#I had to awkwardly wait until my coworker returned to get help

[benevolentbucky]

why is it whenever I have to cover the reference desk the SECOND the other person on desk walks away to do something a patron comes up and I can’t help them

[r0-boat]

May i request some headcannons about larry having some lustful thoughts? Like your a new [young woman] waitress at the treasure eatery and he didn't seem to care. But, these thoughts never leaves his mind. Which affects his work, then realizes his lust for you. Then the deed has been done between them both.

Hopefully this makes sense.

Hhhh this ask has been fucking up my brain chemistry thank you.

Cw: age gap(older man/younger woman)

Nsfw

Fem!reader

Larry pining after the Treasure Eatery waitress.

( sadly no banging just unresolved sexual tension ;) )

Larry knows every single worker at the treasure eatery. Has he sits down in his usual spot, his eyes gaze over at an unfamiliar face. A younger woman, by the looks of it, that eager to please smile and a little notepad in her hand as she jotted down everything she needed to know; he couldn't help but crack a small smile giving out a light, breathy chuckle knowing that the soul-crushing career life has not buried its fangs down on her yet.

Has he waited for the other staff to see him wave and excitedly greet him by his name before saying, "The usual?" he couldn't help but watch the waitress make her rounds, jumbling over her words awkwardly as she gave the customers with their drinks or food. That was when her eyes met his for a split second, cheeks turning pink when she realized she was being watched. On the inside, the new waitress was panicking, hoping to make a good impression on the Elite Four member and gym leader, who is also a regular here. His eyes were on her as if he was testing her internally.

When the waitress returned to the kitchen, the manager excitedly( and to her horror) practically dragged her over to where Larry was sitting. "Larry! This is our new hire!" Shaking like a newborn deerling being in front of practically a celebrity, despite his ordinary appearance. The businessman, his onix trained on her while he took a sip of his water, gave her a nod.

Larry got a closer look at her when the manager brought her over, her shyness was admittedly cute, but he didn't want to scare her more than he already was all night, so all he gave was a nod.

You finally breathe a sigh of relief when the regular leaves the restaurant, the pressure of being your best and impressing the Elite Four member being lifted off your shoulders. A moment that your coworkers will probably tease you for till the end of time. Even though Larry long since left, you couldn't help but think about how piercing those onyx eyes were.

Larry felt like a creep, watching her all night like he did; he was unsure why she held his attention as long as she did. Maybe it was that sweet smile. Maybe it's because she was just entertaining to watch. Hearing her stumble over her words, are practically see the gears turning in her head as she tries to figure out how some of the appliances of work. Or maybe, it was when those eyes met his own so bright and lively, only for her to tear her gaze away from him. He couldn't help but think about the way she was practically falling apart in front of him as the manager introduced her. Did he really intimidate her so much? He wasn't sure whether he liked that idea or not.

Perhaps he should try getting her to feel more comfortable around him...

On your shift like clockwork, the day went on as normal, occasionally messing around with your manager and coworkers. When the day went slower until your heart picked up when you noticed Larry walking into the building, slowly but surely getting the hang of this job, you should be more comfortable, but now you have cold feet. And, of course, since your manager thought it was the funniest shit ever that Larry scared you so much, she had you take his order.

Larry's eyes almost light up when you walk over, his stone face watching an almost amusement as you fumble over your words, trying to remember his name, all your thoughts leaving you the moment you met those deep piercing eyes, trying not to stare at his lips touching the cold glass of his ice water, and how his adam's apple bobbed with each drink. "H-hi uh..." "Larry..." "W-what?" "It's Larry, you can say it. I don't bite." He inhales deeply at the way she sheepishly says his name.

your entire shift has been a blur, distracted by a current someone.

He didn't sleep that night. The moment he knew he was in a little too deep, is when he replayed your voice saying his name in his head, well thinking about that eager-to-please smile when he first saw you, those eyes looking up at him has his fingers Trail through your hair your hands on his thighs his pants unzipped "Larry..." he could feel his boxers getting tighter as he cursed under his breath.

Larry was officially a creep... the hell was he doing?? he was a middle-aged man while you looked like you were in your early to mid-20s. His eyes glazed over, no longer focusing on the screen in front of him, instead of his hand, his thumb rubbing over the place your fingers brushed against an accident when you sit down his usual meal on the table.

you seemed different from the last time he came in. You still had that shyness he always liked, but now it seemed you were more playful, good means he wasn't scaring the hell out of you. Tonight in particular, however, he noticed the changes in your appearance immediately. You could feel his eyes on you; once again, you wondered if he noticed your makeup. He did. In fact, your pretty pink lips were all he could stare at. He felt like he was going to go crazy when he walked by his table, getting with of what smelled like vanilla perfume... as much as he liked what he saw, the nagging feeling in his chest began to bubble up, 'Who are you prettying up for? A boy?' yes, a boy... he was your age once; he knew how they could be.

It's not like he was any different, as he was just thinking about smearing that lipstick on something that was bigger than the pen that was in your mouth. Usually, he avoided thinking these kinds of thoughts, but he was a couple of shots of alcohol in, and work had been stressful for the past few weeks.

He tried to ignore the fact that he would catch you stealing glances. As much as Larry wanted you, and by Arceus he did, he could feel his cock stiring as a scene plays in his mind, bending you over the bed, a hand on your pretty throat rubbing the head of his cock against your tight entrance.

He didn't wanna get his hopes up. Heh, as if a young spark like you would be interested in a boring old man like him.

[imaginecolby]

Friends with Benefits || Part Six - The Scare

"y/n, i cannot believe you are still coming to work." your friend said to you as you were returning to your office after your lunch break.

"i used up so much of my PTO at christmas, i'm trying to accumulate some more so i can have some extra time for my maternity leave." you laughed as you sat back down at your desk.

"you're better than me. i would've been out of here as soon i could." they laughed. they returned to their desk, and you got back to work.

a few hours passed, and you were making your way through the day like normal. returning emails, making phone calls to clients, putting out fires in the department you oversaw. everything was going as well as you would've expected. until it wasn't.

all of a sudden, you felt the beginning of a contraction.

"oh no, mister man. it is too early for you to be coming." you groaned through gritted teeth. you coaxed yourself through the contraction, and is passed after about a minute. you went on about your day for another few hours, before you felt the pain return. you paced your office, which seemed to help contraction go away. after about the third or fourth occurrence, you figured you needed to call your doctor.

"i'd recommend you come in and be seen. i have an open appointment in twenty that you can take." your doctor said to you over the phone.

"perfect. i will be there." you said to them. you luckily were able to get a ride from a friend, and your doctor's office was only a few blocks from your job. you text colby while you were on your way, and let him know what was going on.

"i'm sure they're just braxton hicks, but my doctor just wants me to come in for some monitoring for a little bit. i'm on my way to the hospital now." your message read.

"i will be there as soon as i can." he replied. you pulled into the hospital parking lot, thanking your friend for the ride. you checked in and were immediately taken to a room. you waited just a few minutes before your doctor came in, explaining that they wanted to monitor your vitals, as well as your baby's.

after about twenty minutes, there was a knock on the door. you called for them to come in, and colby fell through the door.

"y/n! is everything okay?" he sighed, falling to the floor next to your bed.

"yes. everything is okay." you said, brushing his hair back from his forehead. "geez, did you run over here?" you teased, wiping his sweat from your hand.

"practically." he laughed awkwardly. just then, your doctor came back into the room.

"alright you two, or should i say three," they paused to take a seat. "everything is still as great as your last check up. baby boy is just getting a little impatient in there."

"are we at the point of bed rest yet?” you asked.

"not quite. i do recommend taking it easy, so you're not overly stressed. but not complete bed rest." they advised.

"okay. i can do that. work isn't too busy at the moment, so fingers crossed it stays that way." you said, rubbing your belly.

"perfect. let's get you set up to head home." your doctor said to you. you collected all of your things, got your discharge paperwork, and headed home. fortunately, your work day was almost done, so you didn't miss to much of your day.

you were in contact with your boss as soon as you got home to work out a plan for a lighter work load, and potentially starting your maternity leave sooner. they were fortunately very accommodating for your needs, it was lucky that you had such a good relationship with them.

once you got back to work, you were mainly working half days for the last month and a half leading up to your maternity leave. on your last day of work, your coworkers threw you a small baby shower for your last day. 

“i cannot believe you all did this for me. this is all too much.” you said through tears, as you continued opening your gifts. 

“you deserve it! we love you and we cant wait to meet your little one. we wish you and colby luck, and are sending you all the congratulations in the world.” one of them said to you.

“did i hear my name?” you heard a familiar voice ask. you turned and saw colby walking into the conference room where your festivities were being held. 

“what are you doing here!?” you asked gleefully, getting up to walk greet him. you gave him a hug and pressed a quick to his lips.

“oh, you know i never miss a good party.” he teased. “no, f/n text me and told me you were gonna need some help carrying things to the car.” he said.

as the shower was winding down, colby began taking things to the car, meticulously packing everything as to not damage any of the gifts. you thanked your friends again, gathering up the leftover food to take home. you made your way out to the parking garage to meet colby, walking with a few of your friends, the ones that actually planned the event. you thanked them profusely again for the shower, and for all the gifts. 

once you got home, you helped colby as much as you could with helping bringing in the gifts. once they were all inside, you began to unpack and clean up, placing them around your home in the places where they would be most used. you had so many blankets, clothes, toys and bottles. your baby was going to be well outfitted for his best life.

you stood in his nursery, which was finally all put together. colby had spent numerous hours in this room, putting together the crib, the dresser, and all the other furniture. he’d arranged it wonderfully, and you couldn’t believe how much this room had changed from your boring guest room. you stood there lost in thought for a while, before they were interrupted by colby’s voice.

“hey, there you are. you okay?” he asked, wiping away a stray tear from your cheek.

“yeah,” you said softly. “now that im out of work, it’s really starting to set in. in a few weeks, we’re gonna have a baby.” you said, rubbing your belly.

“i still can’t wrap my mind around it. seeing you grow every day has been so mind blowing, and seeing how big he’s gotten on his ultrasounds. it’s been kinda crazy.” colby laughed, placing his hand on yours on your belly. “but im excited.”

“me too.” you said, smiling up at him. he kissed you softly before leaning down to press a kiss to your belly. you couldn’t believe you were coming up on the end of your pregnancy, but you really were excited. especially knowing that you had colby on your side. you made a great team, and you knew you were gonna raise a wonderful kid.

[worriedvision]

Committed to the forest - Tighnari

So this is going to be a hanahaki fic, it’s going to be a sad ending lol sorry guys! Gender neutral reader, someone dies. 

--

You had grown up in the forest, your parents being forest rangers that described them meeting as ‘love at first sight’. Your mother had feelings for your father who didn’t realise his feelings were returned until she almost died due to the unfortunate disease.  She had believed that he was simply committed fully to work, but truthfully it was only because your father was so fearful over the idea of making a fool of himself in front of her.

So when a petal shows up, you tell yourself it’ll be just like your parents. 

Tighnari was perfect in your eyes. He was smart, but he didn’t parade his intelligence around like others at the same level as him. He always helped you whenever you requested it - of course, you didn’t just ask him whenever you wanted to talk to him or just see him. The way his ear sometimes twitches when he’s deep in thought, the way his eyes carry a sense of calm determination, it all helped you fall in love with him helplessly. 

Tighnari, however, was a popular person amongst others. He had someone approach him, clasping their hands as they awkwardly confess their feelings for the man. It’s what he responds with that makes you become fearful. 

“I appreciate your feelings.” Tighnari starts, the person llooking up. You find yourself becoming fearful he returns the persons feelings, but what he continues with makes you feel worse. “But I’m afraid my heart lies in the forest.” He smiles softly, the person in front of him seeming to nod slowly, thanking him for letting them down with facts instead of some basic rejection.

You make sure you stay distant from the man, but it was impossible. Working as a ranger, you had to mask your symptoms from him, somehow managing to hold back the things that threatened to choke out. Tighnari seems to look over at you more often, a spark of worry in his eyes when he realises you haven’t approached him for anything in a good while. He brushes it off as you getting better at your work, which wasn’t exactly wrong. 

As your condition got worse, he saw less of you. He wanted to look for you, but he figured you just needed a break after working by yourself for so long. Perhaps he needed to find a coworker to work with you, he thinks to himself. 

He had to walk into the city, thankfully he negotiated it to be a day. Once he returned, he would assign you someone to work alongside.

--

Meanwhile, you had been getting rather poorly. Nobody had visited you, and you were thankful for it. Sitting in your room, you realise that your life was going to end. You knew that if you were to get treatment, you would most likely become disrespectful to the man you had deep feelings for, and that was the last thing you wanted. 

On the day that Tighnari had headed off to the city, Collei became curious after realising that she hadn’t seen you. She runs into your house, forgetting to knock because she wanted to be sure you were fine, only to gasp out of shock at what she saw.

There you were, barely having any strength. Confined to a bed, you realised you wouldn’t be able to run away from the truth. Collei goes to open her mouth, clearly going to shout for Tighnari as he hadn’t left yet, only for you to quietly stop her.

“Collei, please.” You smile sadly.

“But I can’t let you become ill!” She pleads, walking towards you before holding your hand. “Please, I’m sure Tighnari can find a- a good medicine! He can figure out how to save you.” She begs quietly, tearing up.

You shake your head, enveloping her hand comfortingly. 

“It’s too late for me.” You tell her. She waits for you to continue, wanting to bleed as much information out of you as possible. “I have feelings for him, and I’ve come to terms that they won’t be returned.” Collei opens her mouth, attempting to process what the hell unrequited feelings had to do with this. “Nevermind that.”

Collei goes to run out, hoping that maybe Tighnari was still within running distance. Your hand tightens slightly, and she looks down to see you with a sad smile on your face.

“Collei, do not blame yourself for this.” You begin, Collei having to take deep breaths. “Even if you were to get him here, it wouldn’t change the outcome.”

Collei slowly nods, realising it was true. You weren’t going to live, it was clear. 

“Can I do anything to provide comfort for you?” Collei asks, croaking out the last few words.

“I have one request.” You respond eventually. “I can tell by the look in your eyes that you’ll tell Tighnari about this. Please, don’t let anyone else listen in. The last thing I want is for him to feel guilt because of something out of his control.” 

Collei nods, whimpering before she gets up.  Collecting herself before she heads out, she looks back at you, giving you a soft smile before leaving you to pass away as peacefully as possible.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hi! Can I possibly get the promps, 145, 130, 85, and 238 with Bucky please! 😊

I didn't get 85 in there, sorry, but did my best.

Glory Days

Warnings: humiliation, mention of bullying, thigh riding, nonconsent.

🍸

You remember the laughter, the vicious snickers as you ran out of the house in tears, bass pumping in the early fall cool. Several other girls follow in a similar state but you hardly notice as your feet hammer on the pavement. The noise echoes still in your mind, ten years later as you stare at the man just ahead of you.

Bucky Barnes was the most popular guy in his frat a decade before, he seemed like the star of campus. Now he stands just a few feet away at a tall table, giving cheers to the blond across from him with one other man. You recognise the one with the blonde hair, Steve Rogers, ever his stalwart companion, but the other is unfamiliar.

You think at first it isn’t them. You don’t want it to be. You don’t want your rare night out to be ruined by bad memories. You blink and carry on past their table, certain to keep your head straight ahead. You dip into the washroom and to a stall. When you emerge from the small cubicle, you have to take a moment to catch your breath.

It was one night, ten year ago, eleven, maybe. What's worse was he probably doesn’t even remember it. To him, it was just another night, another party.

You go back out and your eyes meet his blue ones as you try to sweep quickly by. He tilts his head and smirks, a little wink as he sips his sparkling pint. You look away quickly and skirt by, heading back to the table with your coworkers, Jessica and Tegan. You sit and lift your empty glass and mope.

“About time for another round,” Tegan offers, “jeez, what a week.”

“God, don’t get me started,” Jessica drains the last of appletini, “it’s not even over.”

“You know the great thing about not fucking your boss is that your day ends at six o’clock,” Tegan teases but it’s well known she had a crush on Karim before Jessica hooked up with him.

“Mmm, it’s really not work,” Tegan giggles as the waitress approaches. You order another round and wait for her to clear the table.

“This place isn’t bad,” Jessica says, “maybe you’ll find a cute guy.”

“Speaking of,” Tegan preens as she flips her curls, “I think he’s heading over right now.”

“Hmm?” you follow Jessica’s gaze as Tegan gives a subtle nod.

You hold in a wince and turn back, hoping he isn’t heading over your way. Bucky Barnes could not be coming to your table. He just couldn’t.

“Hey, ladies,” his deep voice cuts through your prayers, “how are we doing tonight?”

He has the same snakish tone as he did all those years ago. The one that made you think you were the diamond in the rough plucked out by him alone. That you really were beautiful. Well, you changed since then, you weren’t the bookish girl with her goggly glasses and flaky complexion.

“Good,” Tegan smirks, “and you?”

“Well, you know, pretty good,” his hand rests behind your shoulder on the back of the booth, “me and my friends were just celebrating another Friday and we saw you three lovely ladies and there’s three of us, so naturally…”

“Naturally,” Jessica says, “I mean, who can resist a perfect balance?”

“Jess,” you hiss under your breath, “Karim?”

“We’re not exclusive,” she waves you off, “we would love to join you,” she says over your head, “but we did just order another round to the table.”

“I think there might be enough room for us,” he suggests, “we can make it work, huh?”

“Oh I think we can fit you in,” Tegan arches a brow and you hide your face.

“Great,” Bucky hits the seat and you glance at his thick fingers, “be right back.”

“We should let you choose the place more often,” Jessica trills at you and the waitress appears with her tray.

You accept your tropical cocktail and stir it with the little umbrella, “oh, so you didn’t notice the ring?”

“Ring? I don’t know it means anything,” Tegan shrugs, “not my problem.”

“Wow,” you squint at her and her eyes flick past you.

“Pardon us,” Bucky approaches with the two other men, beer glasses in hand, “I didn’t even get your names. I’m Bucky, this is Steve,” he points to the blonde, “and Sam.”

Tegan offers your name as she stands to let Sam sit between her and Jessica and gestures you curtly to shimmy over. You find yourself crowded between Bucky and Jessica on the curved seat. You take a gulp of your drink and try to think of a way out.

“So, you ladies work together?” Steve asks.

“Sure do,” Tegan chimes.

The conversation quickly splits off into pairs but you sit quietly next to Bucky and wish you had more to sip. You didn’t mean to drink that fast, this night is supposed to be stress free. He clears his throat and angles slightly to face you as he rests his elbow on the table, his sleeve rolled just above as it hugs his thick bicep.

“And what do you do in the office?” he asks as he looks you over, “you’re quiet, like a secretary.”

“I’m an accountant, actually, senior,” you purse your lips derisively and wave your fingers above his head for the waitress, you need more alcohol.

“Ah, I’m just another corporate shill,” he says as the waitress approaches, the whole table takes your lead and orders.

“Oh, and a loving husband?” you look at his finger as you return to the stunted conversation.

“Not, actually, divorced,” he spins the ring, “why so shy?”

“Not shy,” you answer bluntly, “the ring kinda puts women off, you know?”

“Bad habit,” he says, “you know, it costs a lot so why not?”

“I guess,” you sigh.

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive,” he sits back as the waitress sets down your drink and then his. The sentence takes you back, the keg, the smell of beer, the jeers of drunken frats, and cruel laughter. You come back and shake your head.

“Sensitive? No, but I think it’s a valid concern,” you take a drink.

“Hmm,” he considers you as he tastes the head of his beer, “you’re sharp. I like it. And damn hot, if I do say so. You wear the hell out of that skirt.”

“Ah,” you put your drink down, “it’s not my favourite.”

“I see,” he leans his chin in his hand, “you like to play hard-to-get.”

You wrinkle your nose and glance over at Tegan. She laughs as she rubs Steve’s arm and leans into him and Jessica is almost halfway in Sam’s lap already. You hide your discomfort and grab your glass again.

“Maybe that will loosen you up,” he taps the bottom of your cup.

“Maybe I’m not interested,” you hiss.

“Oh, no?” he slides closer and his hand goes to your thigh, “you’re shaking.”

You feel the anger spike and you spill your drink down your front. You curse and stand up awkwardly between the seat and the table. You put the glass down and the others look at you in concern. You wave Bucky over as you snap out a blunt ‘excuse me’.

He stands and let you out but says he’ll “help” and follows. You stomp back to the bathrooms as you try to outpace him. You reach the ladies’ room door and spin to face him.

“I don’t need your help,” you snarl, “alright? Can’t you take a hint?”

“Is that an oink I hear?” he mocks as he lifts his hand to cup his ear, “you don’t look like a pig anymore but you sure sound like one.”

Your lips part and you scowl at him. You shake your head and shove his chest as you turn and storm into the bathroom. He remembers. He knows it’s you and he’s all smug because he can see it so plainly. You grab a wad of paper towel and start daubing your blouse.

The stall behind you opens and the only other woman in the room goes to the sink beside you and washes her hand. She smiles tipsily at you in the mirror and you give an awkward grin back. You toss the towel as the door swing behind her only for the hinges to squeak again.

You hear the lock and glance in the mirror. You see the dark hair and the broad shoulders. Bucky turns to you as he leans on the door with one hand, his other on his belt. He bites the tip of his tongue as he eyes you.

“You always were a dramatic bitch,” he sneers as he pushes himself straight,

“Fuck off,” you try to brush past him as he nears and he catches your wrists. He backs you up between the sinks and crushes you against the wall, eyes boring into yours.

“You know, you left so early you missed out on all the fun, can’t have that happen again,” he purrs, “you know, you don’t win at a pig party unless you get the swine’s panties.”

“You’re disgusting,” you try to twist free but he pulls your hands above you and presses his body to yours.

“You’re a fucking prude,” he growls as he pushes his knees between your legs, your skirt rising as he plants his thick thigh there, “can’t just let go of the past and have a little fun.”

“Let me go,” you huff as you bare your teeth.

“Now, little piggy, don’t squeal too loud,” his thigh meets your panties and you flinch, “you just need to relax, let loose. That’s what you girls came for, isn’t it?”

“Get off,” you snap, “I’ll--”

Before you can promise a scream, his hands over your mouth and his other falls to your hip. He tuts and shakes his head. He holds you against the wall as a knock comes at the door and he waits until the heels clack away from the other side. He lifts his legs higher and slowly guides your hips so your cunt rubs against his thigh.

“You need to get some of that tension out,” he hums as his eyes wander down and he watches the way he rocks you. You try to stop him but can’t plant your feet as he has you on your toes, “the only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

You try to shake your head as you latch onto his wrist and hit his chest with your other hand. He doesn’t even flinch as he keeps you moving, his gaze clinging to the motion as he tilts you against him.

“Look at you, piggy,” he taunts, “your legs are shaking… you gonna cum on my leg like a slut, huh?”

You mumble into his palm as your breath flows from your nose and glosses over his hand. You wriggle between his strength and the wall. The tingle flurrying in your core makes your eyes water and your heart race.

You grab onto his tie and yank desperately, trying to get him to stop. He chuckles as it tightens and lets go of your hip. He grabs your hand and pulls the silk tighter until his neck tenses and his face reddens.

“You know what I like, piggy,” he says in a strained voice, “now finish.”

You whimper as he keeps your hand around his tie and his other clamps tighter around your mouth. You close your eyes and move your hips. You just want it to be over with. You want to leave and you can’t see any other way past him. He rasps and groans as he senses the urgency that guides you.

“That’s it,” he breathes, “fuck my leg like a good little piggy. Fuck it.”

You whine into his hand and squeeze his tie as your muscles tighten. Your release swells and spills over as your eyes shoot open and he stares at you as he watches you cum. You feel it soaking through your panties and onto his slacks. You slow as you quiver and he lets your hand fall from his neck.

He reaches down as he slides his leg out and touches the wet spot on his leg. You see the darker patch streaked there as he drops his hand from your mouth and tisks. He snickers as you try to stand straight and he pushes you back.

“Can’t forget these,” you brace the wall as he reaches under your skirt and rips your panties down your legs. He tugs until you step out of them and he folds them before he slips them into his pocket, “I’ll just tell them you spilled some on me, huh?” he rubbed the streak again, “you think they’ll buy it?”

“Get away from me,” you fix your skirt and stand straight on your wobbly legs, “get away--”

“Shhhh,” he puts his finger to your lips, “you keep oinking and I’ll have to really make you squeal.”

[salemorbit]

Do-Over

[Pro Hero!Katsuki Bakugou x Pro Hero!Reader]

warnings: angst y'all i'm feeling angsty; ends with fluff hehe; it's a LONG one boys!!

~~~~~~~

in which you and bakugou hit a speed bump in your relationship

~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~

You dropped your keys on the table next to your door, slamming it shut with a sigh. You grimaced as you turned awkwardly to strip off your jacket, your shoulder twinging with pain from a minor injury during your recent scuffle.

The apartment was dark, not a soul around to greet you or wait up for you at such an hour. And that was fine, that was how you lived. But deep down inside, at this moment, you felt a pang in your chest that took the shape of a specific blond haired fireball.

Slipping your phone out of your back pocket, you unlocked it and let your thumb glide instinctively to the contact that you talked to the most. You pressed the call button and held the phone to your ear, slipping off your shoes gratefully.

It went to voicemail. Not even his mailbox was set up, just the automated number played in your ear. You let the robotic voice run through its mantra before leaving a message at the tone.

"Hey, it's me. I just got home. I...just wanted to make sure you were okay." You fiddled with your belt. "Call me when you get this."

You clicked end and slid your phone on the counter, leaving it be while you undressed from your work clothes. You cradled your whining shoulder as you slid off your shirt and tossed it aside, mentally making a note to do laundry later.

The past few days at your hero agency had been hard. There were so many hoodlums and villains clogging up your to-do list that you barely had time to call your boyfriend and make sure he was doing all right. It was radio silence from him nearly all week.

But you two had been busy. For some reason, this week was the one time that every baddie wanted to cause chaos. Or at least it felt like it. You slumped down on your dingy couch and stared at the ceiling. Hero work was exhausting, and you didn't even know if it paid off in the long run.

And just a few hours ago you were dealing with a messy explosion of villainy in the middle of your district. It was hard to keep the destruction in check, and you had gotten minorly injured in the process. Your sore shoulder was a scar to boot.

Katsuki had been there, in fact a few of his co-workers had been, too. But he didn't pay you any special attention. You didn't know if that bothered you or not.

Yes, you were both on the job and vowed not to let your relationship get in the way of your hero work as much as possible. On the other hand, you hadn't seen or spoken to Katsuki in a whole week, and the first time you had and he didn't even nod a greeting. What was his issue? It wasn't like you had gotten into an argument or anything.

Shuddering out of thought, you heard your phone buzz once on the counter. You got up and checked it, half expecting it to just be a junk mail message. You were surprised to see that it was a message from Katsuki himself.

I'm home. Goodnight.

You frowned. That was it? You called and left a message, he hadn't spoken to you all week, and all he sent was a three word text?

You didn't know what overcame you, but the frustration inside bubbled up and spilled over in an instant. You turned and activated your quirk out of pure adrenaline, chucking your phone across the room and sending it straight through the apartment wall and soaring into the street below.

That calmed you down quickly. You ran over to your window and threw up the sash, looking down and around for your shattered piece of a phone. But it was gone. You sighed heavily and shut the window, storming into your bedroom and falling into your sheets with a huff.

Now you needed a new phone and, quite possibly, a new boyfriend.

•••

The next day you were off of work, so you took a pain reliever for your shoulder and headed to the nearest phone store to get a new phone. After awkwardly explaining the situation to the clerk, you received a new model and decided to pay a visit to the one man who had gotten you so riled up in the first place.

Katsuki would've been lying if he said he wasn't relieved to see you on the other side of his door that afternoon. He'd had a tiring week, and honestly all he wanted to do was spend time with you and recharge for the most part before doing it all over again.

What he wasn't prepared for, however, was the frown on your face and the angry tapping of your foot as you stood in his doorway.

"You seem unbothered," you said shortly. Katsuki furrowed his eyebrows and let himself get shoved aside as you bustled into his apartment.

"Who pissed in your cornflakes?" Katsuki muttered as he shut the door. You grit your teeth and crossed your arms, obviously unhappy, though Katsuki couldn't figure out why.

"Go look in the mirror and take a guess," you glowered. "What's your issue? Why haven't you returned any of my messages this week?"

"I've been busy, you know that," Katsuki crossed his arms as well, not allowing you to have an intimidation factor in this conversation. "This week was hell."

"It was busy for me, too, but I still made the time."

"What are you going on about, dunceface?"

"Your inability to communicate!" You threw your hands in the air. "I've been trying to check in on you this week, but you haven't responded, if at all. And you didn't call me back last night! Just a text? One? I wanted to make sure you were okay after that fight, and you didn't even humor me."

"So? I'm fine."

"I didn't know that," you stressed. Katsuki let out a breath, still not getting it, and this made you even more angry.

"I don't know where this sudden clinginess is coming from-"

"It's not being clingy!" You erupted. "Are you so dense that you haven't realized how checked-out you've been recently? I've given you multiple opportunities to pick up the slack. I've excused your behaviours, given you space, and respected your silence this entire time. You haven't given me anything to work with. It's called being concerned and trying to keep our relationship going, which you don't seem the least bit interested in doing."

"And what if I'm not?" Katsuki growled, just plain upset you were accusing him of things he wasn't doing, at least in his mind. "What would you do if I didn't want to keep this schtick up, huh?"

"Then I'd be wasting my time standing here," you snapped. "And I'd have wasted the last two years on you."

Katsuki felt something in his chest cry, shattering and splitting through the floor below his feet. He grit his teeth and closed his eyes, trying his best not to set his living room on fire.

You were there. You were right there, somewhere you hadn't been for the last week. And yeah, he'll admit that maybe he's been a bit distant lately, and the sudden influx in hero-work definitely wasn't helping the situation either. But he was trying to deal with things he hadn't quite felt before, one of those things being his feelings for you.

As of recent, something had shifted in his gut. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing, and it wasn't like he was going to consult Kirishima or Kaminari about this. God knows they'd just make fun of him for worrying about your relationship.

Did he feel ashamed? Was it embarrassing him that he felt like this for someone? Katsuki Bakugou didn't get embarrassed, so what was this?

"I think we're done here," you muttered, looking down to hide the tears welling up in your eyes. You slid around Katsuki to reach the door, but you were stopped by Katsuki grabbing your arm gently.

You jerked your arm from his grasp, turning to look at him with your chin held high, keeping your trembling lip from showing itself. Katsuki had something in his eyes that had never been there before, and you hated it. You hated that you couldn't read him anymore.

"I don't know you like I thought I did, Bakugou." He flinched at that one. "This was obviously a mistake. I'll see you around."

And you were out the door and out of his range, leaving Katsuki Bakugou to stand in his living room at a loss for words. Something he hadn't been ever since he first met you.

•••

You took the breakup terribly, to say the least.

Yes, you were technically the one who broke it off, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt to do it. You didn't want to shut things down like that, but Katsuki had left you no choice. He wasn't getting it, and it felt like he was going to continue to not get it. You just couldn't spend your energy like that anymore.

Mina and Momo were there for you from the second you broke down at a bus stop and called them to pick you up. They were there in a split second, not pressuring you for information until you wanted to tell them.

They were more disappointed in Katsuki than mad. They didn't like how he hadn't been communicating things with you about how he felt or why he had been distant. You broke and told them how it had been going on like this for almost a month now, and this last week was just the tipping point. They backed your decision and got you anything you needed for the next few days, until you were able to be on your own and process the emotions you felt.

Katsuki hadn't tried to call you at all. No texts, emails, voicemails. Your phone was a dry desert, except for the concerned text Midoriya sent you after you assumed Mina and Momo had told him about the debacle. He offered to talk to Katsuki about it, but you declined. It was best to just let it be, let it sink in that Katsuki had messed up royally.

Meanwhile, the man in question was quiet for the next few days. His coworkers noticed his lack of remarks, his friends noticed his distant appearances. All Katuski had been doing since you walked out that door was think. He was thinking long and hard about what he wanted, where you fit into his life, and the way he had acted as of recent. This was quite possibly the most Katsuki had ever thought about anything; typically he was so sure on the get-go that he needn't time to stop and reflect.

But this was different. You were different.

It wasn't until the next Saturday after your breakup that Katsuki found himself on the other side of your apartment door, hand poised to knock. He decided he didn't want to do something like this over the phone; it was just too impersonal. So he mustered up the courage to face you again, and prayed you wouldn't throw him out of your four-story high window in the process.

He knocked, waited. No answer. Getting slightly annoyed, he knocked again, louder. Still no answer.

Katuski was now incredibly annoyed, and bent down to take the key from under your doormat and just unlock the damn thing himself. As he lifted the mat, he saw a slip of paper taped to the floor where the key should've been:

Don't try to break in. Calling the police is not below me.

Katsuki huffed, standing up and going to knock on the door again when he was interrupted by the rustling of paper bags. He turned over his shoulder and saw you standing on the opposite end of the hallway, holding some grocery bags in your arms and staring right at the blond standing on your doormat.

There was a tense few moments of silence before you broke it, audibly frustrated.

"Can you get out of the way so I can put these inside?" You frowned. Katsuki blinked, then moved aside to let you fumble your key in the lock dumbly.

"I can-"

"Shut up," was all you said before opening the door and letting it bang against the inside wall. Katuski stood on the threshold, unsure of if he should just walk in or not, before inviting himself in as soon as he figured you wouldn't give him the time of day. He watched from your counter as you passive aggressively slammed things on the counter or into their place in your kitchen.

"Care telling me why you're here?" You asked, flat-toned and not looking at Katsuki in the slightest.

"I wanted to talk."

"About?"

He rolled his eyes. "Us, dimwit."

You stopped and let your head hang, propping yourself on the counter with your hands spread flat. You still didn't look up at him, which was greatly pissing him off.

"We already did. Last week," you said.

"That wasn't a conversation," Katsuki ground out. "That was you coming to me and exploding out of nowhere. I didn't even have the chance to-"

"It wasn't out of nowhere," you interjected.

"Stop interrupting me, damn it, and just let me talk!" Katsuki spat. You looked up at him with a withered look, making his fire simmer down immediately.

"Fine," you said, voice wavering slightly. Katsuki cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" He smiled slightly, bittersweet. You didn't react, so he went on.

"You're an idiot because you've got terrible tunnel vision," he said, glancing at the living room that looked like you had been sleeping in. You had a perfectly tangible bed in the next room, but there were just too many memories in there for you to spend the night in again.

"I can see fine," you grumbled.

"No, you can't," Katsuki looked back at you. "You haven't been able to see how hard I've been trying these last few weeks to figure things out. Figure us out."

"Well how the hell am I supposed to know that if you don't tell me anything?" You asked, trying to keep your voice from rising. The last thing you needed was a fight. You were just too tired.

"That's...something I need to work on," Katsuki muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "And I will admit that. Don't make fun of me for it."

"I never said I would."

"Great, because I gotta whole lotta other things to admit to." His eyes narrowed. "I don't wanna hear shit from you for the next five minutes, got it?"

You sighed, miming zipping your mouth shut as you went back to putting away your groceries. You might as well let him talk, since you knew his stubbornness wouldn't let him leave your kitchen so soon without him getting in his two cents.

"I've been thinking long and hard lately," he began. "On my own. Nothin' from anyone else except my own thoughts. So this is one hundred percent me.

"I screwed up. I did. And it took me a minute to realize it because I was so much in my head about things. I was so focused on trying not to mess us up that I went and did that shit anyway. And all you've been is supportive and caring, and quite honestly I don't know how to handle that since I haven't really been with anyone like that."

He was being honest, you knew from his tone of voice. It was a tone you had heard only a few times before this moment: when he told you he loved you. And you believed it.

Katsuki took in a breath: "So I'm here. And I'm sorry. At first I was mad at you for marchin' into my house the other day and spewing things I knew nothing about, but then I realized that you were spewing those things because you knew nothing about me and where I was at. And that was frustrating for you because you got that whole communication thing you like to do, or whatever."

"Or whatever," you mumbled to yourself, smiling slightly. He picked up on that, his spirits lifting a bit as well.

"I've just been thinking about things and where you are and who I want you to be to me as we live our lives. And I screwed it up by not talking to you about that either. It's a conversation we both should have. So," he sighed, "I'm sorry. And I'll continue to be sorry because you don't deserve to be left in the dark. I love you, and I want to be better."

He finished his little speech and the two of you were quiet. You had paused putting things away about halfway through, really listening to him and what he had to say. He deserved that from you in the least.

You looked up at him and saw that he had already been staring at you, an intent look in his eyes. It was your turn now. He wanted a response to his being vulnerable. You knew it wasn't easy for him to open up like that, despite the last two years of helping him get comfortable, so you didn't torture him with the suspense.

"We'll see," you said. Katsuki did a double take, eyebrows furrowing.

"We'll see?" He repeated. You nodded rounding your counter to stand in front of him.

"If we want to keep doing this for however many more years we keep doing this," the corner of your mouth lifted in a smirk, "then we'll just have to see."

"Great," Katsuki rolled his eyes and sent a seething glare out the window. "I totally lay myself on the train tracks and you just run me over like that. Thanks."

"But," you continued, trying to catch his eye, "I appreciate you coming to me. And I appreciate the apology. However, I won't know if I can accept it until I know you'll actually go through with it."

"Understandable," Katsuki sighed, comprehending this. "I deserve that one."

"Are you ready for a do-over?" You asked, catching his hands in yours. He couldn't help but notice a weight in his chest lift at the presence of your touch after weeks of barely anything. Katsuki still had some work to do, but it was worth it if he could keep you around.

"Always," he kissed you on the forehead and you smiled giddily.

"Awesome because we now have two weekends of cuddle-time to make up for, and my bedroom hasn't been used in a week," you led him to your door.

"Oh no," Katsuki complained sarcastically, "however will we make up for such lost time?"

"Shut up, you big doofus," you grinned. "You know you love me."

"That I do."

~~~~~~~

a teensy tiny bit of OOC bakugou near the end there but like. he'd be a sucker for that and totally willing if it was just the two of you around HAHA

anyways this was cute and i....am forever still in love w bakugou :))))

[viouez]

First Snow | 1

synopsis. introductions are never fun, especially when between the eight of them, one of them is ignorant about the things behind the curtain.

pairing. bts x reader genre. angst au. hybrid!au contents. its only about 6651 words note. i again, like most of these, wrote this a bit ago, rewrote it, fixed small parts, you know? jjk main character type ego

entire masterlist.

all rights reserved © viouez | the reposting, modifying, and/or translating of any kind on any medium is allowed. the reposting, modifying, and translating of my work without explicit permission from me is technically a criminal act under the law but will not be dealt with legal action because i would enjoy my ideas to be distributed.

A slight sigh fell from the female's lips, head tilting to the side as she listened to her coworkers job explanation. She had already been given the rundown by the boss when she was given the job. Though, she wasn’t going to stop him from talking about his passion, a second listen never hurt anybody. 

She smiled widely when she caught her friend turning the corner, clipboard in hand to show her to the work area. He raised a hand in a wave and sent the other worker off, saying something about the boss needing him down in the labs. She wouldn’t question it. He turned towards her once again and gave a warm smile. 

“So, the boss has given you room twenty-nine, I think you’ll want a room explanation before you meet any of the hybrids occupying such a room.” Chanyeol admitted awkwardly, pointing back towards the rooms.

“That’s the newcomers room, Chan, I don’t think I’m educated enough to deal with them yet. I haven’t even finished my schooling.” she almost gasped out, hands gripping onto the boys arm

He only gave her a sympathetic smile, patting the top of head. It was very uncommon for the boss to put someone just hired into the newcomers room. They were some of the most hostile or violent hybrids that were into the facility. He just hoped the boss knew what he was doing by sending her in. 

“Thankfully, your job with the newcomers is simple. You’ll be the one who does checks up. Meaning, you’ll be the one giving medications, ordering their food and delivering from the cafeteria, at least three times a day, since you’ll be working until about six.” He paused, reading over the paperwork one more time

“I’m just the caregiver, then?” hopeful, she stood on her tippy toes to try and read the papers as well.

“If they need absolutely anything, you’ll be the only person they can go to. Its also your job to decide if adopters would be a good fit for them. You get to give the final decision.” finishing his reading, he motioned towards the door, “Let’s get you to the hybrids, shall we?”

She nodded, excited to start her first day, before taking the clipboard from the man. Her eyes raked over the words and tried her best to take in the information as quickly as possible to seem professional. She had this, she just had to start her first day with confidence and authority. This would be easy for her. 

Pushing through the door, she stepped into room twenty-nine. This is where she started her first day. She needed to make a good first impression. 

Without realizing, she stood froze in the door way as her eyes danced around the room. Seven males sat in a circle in the middle of the plain white room. Most of their heads were hanging down and their hands were placed, folded in their laps. This looked more like an AA meeting than a comfortable meeting space for them. 

She parted her lips to question the hybrids on what was happening before a male pushed through a side door holding a tray of medications. Having not noticed the female, the worker stopped in front of a hybrid who curled in on himself. The almost threatening glare of the worker scared the girl as he forced the hybrids lips apart, dumping the array of medications into his mouth. 

“Hey.. hey, what are you doing?” her voice came out, a stuttering mess, goodbye to that good first impression, “Stop that, what do you think you’re doing? Don’t grab them like that.”

This gained the workers attention, hand ripping itself away from the hybrid at the new appearance, “I’m just giving them their medications, what do you think I’m doing? Are you an adopter or something?” 

“I’m the new worker for this station. You can go, I’ll finish up here, thank you.” 

The worker only rolled his eyes and moved to place their medications back onto the tray before leaving through the door they came in from. She was truly shocked at how harshly the worker was treating the hybrids. That was completely unneeded. She was sure the hybrids would take their meds without violence. 

She sighed in relief that the worker was gone before once again sinking into her thoughts. She had just done that little show in front of seven hybrids, the ones she was supposed to be caring for. Her stuttering and lack of confidence probably did not give the best look. 

Trying her best to build up just a tad bit more confidence, she stepped into the circle of hybrids and hurried to the medications tray. She could do this, she knew she could, but now she was anxious that she gave a bad first impression. 

“You got this, don’t even worry about it. So what you got scared? Anyone would be after seeing that.. Right?” she whispered to herself as she glanced over the paperwork one more time, “Don’t chicken out now.”

From what she could tell, the medications they were being given weren’t really hybrid medications. Seemed more like meds you would be giving your actual cat or dog, not a hybrid. What hybrid needs flea medications? Could hybrids even get fleas? 

A lot of the ones she was seeing did differ depending on the hybrid taking them. A wolf hybrid within the group would be taking medications to calm down the alpha effects within their body, seeing as they are being shoved into a group of unknown hybrids. A few were being given anti-anxiety medications. One was being given heat suppressors, which was confusing, wouldn’t they all be receiving them if in a center?

Finally turning towards the hybrids, she swallowed harshly and tried to put a hybrid on the faces. She could tell who the wolf was in the pack, the intimidating aura gave that away very quickly. Some of them were harder to tell from the others, granted, she could just look at the list, but she wouldn’t be able to have them introduce themselves. First impressions. 

Stepping towards the one who she saw being manhandled, she glanced over the hybrids features, sighing when the red marks from the worker came into view.  She bent down a bit to give them the look over, finger trailing over the red marks the workers hand had made. She grimaced at the light whine the figure made at her touching, hand pulling back without a second thought.

“Would you like a drink? I’m sure you’re not feeling too well with what had happened. Taking pills with no drink sounds quite painful.” Y/N smiled lightly, waiting for a reply, hoping that the hybrid wouldn’t be too scared of her. 

Once the hybrid nodded, she returned the gesture and quickly walked over to the door the worker stepped into. When she glanced into the room, she furrowed her eyebrows. With a slight groan, she stepped back into the room and pursed her lips. She did have drinks for herself. 

It wouldn’t be too bad if she skipped out on them today. She’ll make sure to order some for them tomorrow morning. She wonders if they’d be able to give her suggestions for what kind of drinks they would like. Hopefully after this introduction, they’d trust her a little bit more. 

“Seeing as I don’t plan on asking the person from before, I’ll be right back, I need to grab everyone something to drink, okay? Don’t go too far.” She tried to joke around before she exited the room. 

It only took about ten minutes before the female was stepping back into the room, with Chanyeol. All the hybrids bodies stiffened at the sight of the man. She was smiling at him before showing him where to sit down the items she had brought. 

“Thank you so much, Chan, I promise I’ll ask about getting drinks from the cafeteria next time but the worker that was here seemed a bit too hostile towards everyone.” She mumbled, though the hybrids could hear everything she was saying. 

“I’ll have to talk to them about that. I can’t believe they would handle the hybrids like that. Disgusting behavior. But, next time you need anything, write it down and send it over in a text until we can get you a work phone, okay?” Chanyeol added on as they walked back towards the door. 

She nodded quickly and moved to push him out of the room, “Go, go! You’ll be late.”

Happy with everything, she walked back into the hybrid circle. Thankfully, Chanyeol was there to help her with the drinks. She had gone grocery shopping and decided that because it was chilly out, her drinks would be alright in the boot of her car. She was correct and glad she left them. 

She quickly grabbed one of the milks and stepped back towards the skittish hybrid from before. The second she held the drink out, the hybrid hesitantly took the drink. 

“I apologize for taking so long, I had to go out to my car and then Chanyeol stopped me. I hope your throat feels much better. Oh! I also grabbed some cream from my car for your face.” she muttered out, hands shoving into her pocket. 

Pulling out the cream, she put a small dot on her finger before glancing up at the hybrid. Once again, hesitant, the hybrid gave a slight nod and turned his head to the side. Gently, the girl applied the cream to the marks left on his face. 

“I read on your paperwork that you’re a Samoyed? I mean, your ears kind of give it away too.” She smiled as she pulled her hand back, “I used to have a close friend who was a Samoyed, she always had such bright white ears. It didn’t help that she kept dyeing her hair black and left her ears out.”

This caught the hybrids attention, “You’ve met a Samoyed before? I’ve never seen another one-”

“My older brother used to have a close friend who was Samoyed. She was always so active, I could never keep up with her. Always had such amazing stamina, my little chubby legs could never.”

She could only smile at the memories, she missed the hybrid. Her brother wasn’t too happy when it came to the topic, but he would talk about it if needed. She was taken away by a center because she wasn’t actually adopted. She was a stray he had found and decided to keep. When they found out, they took her away. 

“Her name was Mina. She was a lovely person!” happy to be speaking about her, she watched the hybrid sip on his milk, “What’s your name?”

“Oh.. I’m Jimin. They didn’t tell you beforehand?” The hybrid asked, quietly, almost unsure of himself. 

“It’s on the paperwork, but I would like to meet you guys how anyone would normally meet someone new, you know? I don’t care what they write on paper.” 

The hybrid nodded at her words, going back to his drink. She took this as a sign to move along and meet the other hybrids, not sure how long it had been since she started talking to Jimin. He was a very quiet dog hybrid, she wondered if the other canines were the same. 

She turned to grab another milk, glancing over the paperwork to know which pills were for the next hybrid. She knew he was a wolf hybrid, but they did not have the pills ordered correctly. If she knew they were this disorganized, she would’ve grabbed their medication herself. 

“It’s the one with the large red pill.” a voice pulled her from her concentration.

 Trusting the hybrid, she grabbed the cap of pills and stepped towards the wolf hybrid. She was not the best when it came to meeting new people, she had a good reason to speak with Jimin normally. He needed cream for his marks, but, the wolf hybrid was intimidating. 

“Thank you for helping me. The worker seems to really not like his job. He’s made it very confusing for everyone but himself.” she spoke softly, knowing wolf hybrids spoke more confidently when the others were more submissive sounding. 

Granted, it may have been a stereotype that she learned from schooling. She wasn’t too sure but she wasn’t going to test that logic either. Wolves seemed to be the most difficult hybrids to deal with when it came to tempers and aggression. 

The wolf showed no aggression towards her, she felt like she was safe. 

“The names Namjoon,” the wolf started, taking the items from her, “Yeah, he’s not the best worker here, you saw how he treated Jimin.” 

“I’m still really sorry about that. I was in shock or I would’ve spoken up sooner. I did not think that the workers were so.. harsh.” she rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly.

“Don’t worry about it, a lot of us are used to it. Jimin just seems to be his main target most of the time. None of us understand why. Maybe because he’s the smallest, but eh, not much we can do about it.” 

“I promise to try my best and not let that happen again. I’m your new caregiver anyways, he should stay gone. Or I’ll speak to Chanyeol again. He’s my friend, so, he should do something, right?”

She was speaking more to herself at this point, the wolf could tell. Though, he was confused about how she assumed Chanyeol was any better than the worker from before. He’s beaten the hybrids in the room. He’s done a lot worse and yet, she had no idea. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Namjoon. I’m happy to be your new caregiver. I promise to do my best.” she spoke out a minute later, smiling at the wolf. 

The hybrids in the room weren’t in a pack together, but he still appreciated her assuming they were. That means he would be making most of the decisions for the group. He had been here the longest and he knew the most, so this would help the group as a whole. 

Watching her step away to grab the next set of medications, the wolf glanced around the room. He caught eyes with Seokjin, only giving a slight nod his way. The hybrid dropped his shoulders in relief. The eldest was the most worried about the group, sensing that she was a very new employee. Ignorance is bliss.

She hesitated when she had to step towards the next hybrid, him already giving her a nasty look. Swallowing her nerves, she gave a small smile and held the milk out for him. 

“I.. I’m assuming you’re Suga? I think you’re the only feline in the room..” she whispered, the confidence draining from her body. 

The hybrid took the milk and meds, downing them within seconds. He shrugged his shoulders at her words. He wasn’t too sure why she was so terrified of him. He knew he had a resting bitch face, but he couldn’t do anything to her while she was here. 

“It’s Yoongi.” he spoke, licking over his lips, “Do you have anymore milk?”

She quickly nodded, moving to the box to grab another bottle for the cat. Once he got the bottle, he smiled at her to try and ease her nerves. The room was suffocating in them, he could barely breathe. She wasn’t entirely confused about the cat, but, she knew this was going to be quite the relationship between client and worker until they were separated into their own sections for hybrids.

“Yoongi? It’s pretty, means shine, a lovely name” She commented as she stepped over to the next hybrid. 

Taking a break from the hybrids, she slowly walked back towards the medicine tray. She had already met three hybrids who all had very different personalities. Jimin was shy and quiet, not too sure what to say whenever he said anything. It’s almost like he triple checked in his mind before he spoke to her.

Namjoon knew what he was saying and was confident in himself, she was surprised that he was even sent to a center, honestly. Wolf hybrids weren’t entirely rare to see in the hybrid world, but seeing them in a center was a rare sight. They would rather send them in the wild than in a center full of hybrids. Sometimes its too much for them to concentrate or create bonds. 

Though very much intimidated by the feline, Yoongi seemed to be a interesting one. Why did they give him a nickname like Suga? Was he returned from an adopter? He didn’t seem to keen on talking with her. Though, that could be a trauma response as well. Most hybrids go through trauma within just ten years of life. 

“Are you alright?” a voice questioned beside her, scaring her

She pushed away from the new voice, hand slamming over her heart in quick movement. She didn’t mean to freak out over one of the hybrids speaking to her, she was just lost in thought. 

“I am so sorry, I did not mean to freak out like that. I was just in thought. I have a bad memory, so remembering names is a bit hard.” she quickly moved to apologize, bowing slightly towards the hybrid. 

“You were just staring at the table, I assumed you needed a bit of help.” Namjoon sheepishly acknowledged, “It’s okay if you don’t!”

“No, no, please, they’re not labeled and I don’t want to mix any medications up. I appreciate the help, I do. Again, I’m really sorry for getting scared, I should’ve been paying attention.”

Shaking his head, the wolf smiled and quickly went to put the medicines in order for the last four hybrids. He quietly named off the hybrids breeds in order for her not to mix them up. She mentally begged that he did not believe she couldn’t do her job. She was just nervous and trying to remember names. 

“Thank you again, Namjoon, I get overwhelmed when things aren’t in order, I wish I had gotten the meds myself.” she admitted, muttering out a little curse towards the other worker. 

Once again shaking his head, he moved back towards his seat. She appreciated the help, seeing as she almost gave the wrong hybrid the heat suppressant. She was glad she wouldn’t be messing up their medications. God knows how upset Chanyeol would be with her. 

“Hi, uh, I want to assume you’re the fox hybrid?” quietly, she walked over to the male with the more pointed ears.

“Ah, yes, that’s me. My name is Seokjin, by the way, it’s lovely to meet you.” He was happy to take the items from her grasp, thankful for his meds. 

“Its lovely to meet you as well, Seokjin, I hope we have a nice time working together.” 

She couldn’t help the smile from appearing on her face, heart calming down. She was so worried to meet these hybrids and yet they’ve all been kind to her. Hell, Yoongi could’ve reacted a lot worse than he did, but he did introduce himself willingly. 

“I.. I like your hair color.” she whispered, nervous now that she complimented without thinking. 

“Thank you. I had just gotten it done before I was pushed into here. I think it’s a lovely orange shade.” Seokjin laughed at the compliment, thankful at a change in atmosphere. 

“Ah, compliment me next, please? Pretty please?” another voice cut in between the two of them. 

Y/N glanced over and caught the second dog hybrid pouting at the two of them. Nodding at his request, she quickly grabbed his things and came back over to speak with the excited pup.  She was happy that one or two of them were happy to talk with her.

“I’m Taehyung, but you can call me Tae, I don’t mind, I feel like we’ll get close anyways!” He spoke, voice deep but louder than most of the other hybrids she met already. 

“If you want me to call you Tae, I don’t mind at all. It’s a beautiful nickname.” She nodded at his words, opening his milk for him as his tail slapped against another hybrids chair. 

She wanted to question why he sat sideways, but she as not going to do that just yet. He seemed extremely comfortable with her already, she wouldn’t wanna ruin that. 

Grabbing the drink from her, making sure to be calm enough to not drop it, he quickly brought it to his mouth, gulping down the liquid. Without thinking, she tapped his wrist gently, whining at how quickly he drank. 

“Be careful, Tae, you’ll end up with a stomach ache if you keep drinking so fast.” she rushed out, almost thankful when he pulls the drink away from his mouth. 

Whining back at the worker, the pup listened and pulled the bottle from his lips, licking the milk that was strapped above his lip. She held the pill bottle towards him, tilting her head to see if he would be another willing hybrid, only to have the pill bottle pushed back towards her. 

“You don’t want to take your pills? Why not? They’re supposed to make you feel really good and make sure your body is healthy.” She frowned, holding the pills up again.

“You take the pills for me then if that’s what they’re supposed to do. Pills are no no’s, you can’t take them, they’ll hurt you.” He sarcastically commented after her

“Hm, okay, how about we make a deal then? If you can take all your pills, i’ll give you another drink, how does that sound?”

He took a minute to think about the deal. It was obvious she was trying to bribe him into taking the meds, but this is the most fun he’s had in a while with any worker here. Pursing his lips just slightly, he looked over the girls face and hummed. 

Seeing how hopeful she looked, he sighed in defeat and nodded at her words. Taking the cup of pills, he dumped them in his mouth and quickly drank the rest of his milk. Clapping her hands happily, she quickly moved back to grab him another milk, opting to grab a strawberry milk as a treat. 

Taking the drink, he was happy to take little sips this time, wanting to savor the drink. 

“So, I have a quick question to ask you, Tae, you know.. do dogs like to sniff hands like cats do? I know the full animal sniff the rears of their playmates but what do hybrids do?” She questioned with genuine confusion, looking away from the pup

“I do not.. and hybrids sniff as well, we just don’t sniff their asses like the full animals do. Also, Yoongi doesn’t do the whole sniffing thing either, he’s too mean, plus he has a sensitive nose, it always shows when Jimin and I are around him, but he never has an issue with Namjoon!” the pup almost vented to the worker.

She didn’t mind letting the canine to vent to her, she kind of found it cute. He did not mind talking to a stranger about the problems within the hybrid group. Though, she wasn’t surprised that he and Yoongi didn’t get along. Steretypically cats and dogs have never gotten along too well. Especially when they’re much older.

“I wouldn’t think he did, he didn’t seem so pleased with my presence, but it's something I knew was going to happen. And its nice to meet you, Taehyung, it’s a nice name, something unique.” She nodded at his words, stepping back towards the middle so she could move on, but still wanted to talk to the pup

“My owner gave it to me! she’s a really nice person, you know? She always gave me meat, so much meat, but then she stopped coming home, I think that maybe she was just visiting her family and they brought me here to watch after me.” He spoke loud enough so she could hear while she stepped away. 

Turning her back to the hybrid, she frowned lightly. This could only mean two things and both ways, she didn’t like the idea of him finding out one day. The owner either passed away while away from the house or she had given up ownership to the center. Both ways are heartbreaking. 

It wasn’t uncommon for hybrids to be taken from their owners either, it just seemed to more reasonable for someone to give up their ownership than the hybrid just be taken away. By law, it had to be a huge reason for your hybrid to be taken from you. Most places, the law passes over abuse, most mean trafficking or invalid adoptions. It was hard to learn in school, but one day it will change, everyone was sure of it. 

Without speaking another word about the issue, she found herself standing in front of another hybrid, softening when their features formed into worry, probably realizing what the boy next to him had meant by what he said. He looked up at her and frowned, mentally asking if she understood.

“Will they ever tell him what happened? He hasn’t stopped talking about her since he got here and its been weeks. He thinks he’s going back with her when she gets back..” The hybrid started, a low whine falling from their throat. 

“I don’t know when the center thinks would be the best time to tell him. I just know that when he is told, he’ll need some comforting. I know hybrids can read feelings and emotions a lot better than humans can, so, do you think you’d be able to help out?” she questioned softly, not sure how else to approach the situation.

“I could do my best. I’m just not too sure how much the poor thing could take. He’s like.. In love with the girl or something. It’s always Jieun this.. Jieun that. He never stops talking about her. Even Yoongi tried to say something and he just refused to take it as truth. He almost fought with the dude.. Taehyung did. Its weird.”

Not sure what else to say to the poor hybrid, she gently handed over the milk and pills. Maybe she’ll talk to Chanyeol about the situation and see what he thinks about it all. Hopefully when she gets close enough to the hybrid, she’ll be able to talk to him about it.

Taehyung seemed to be an extremely hopeful hybrid. It’s not something rare to see, but in a center it is. He seemed to be around her age as well in human years, meaning that he was old enough to forget all about child-like hopes and dreams. She’s curious about who his last owner happened to be. 

Unlike Taehyung though, Seokjin seemed to be a very calm hybrid. He didn’t seem to mind talking to her like they were old friends. He was nice to speak with, very well educated and talked as if he had been with a high-class family. She wonders why they would give up such a delightful hybrid. 

Feeling the atmosphere change, the hybrid in front of her pat her arm and got her attention, only giving a small smile, holding the cup back up towards her. They both knew the pup would be told sometime while here and they both knew that it wouldn’t be a pretty picture the minute he actually realized he had been abandoned.

“We’ll try and let him know slowly, so it doesn’t hurt him too much as he realizes. It’ll be a lot for him, but I think he’ll come out fine with a bunch of friends around him, you know?” she smiles, glancing over the canine one last time. 

“I hope so, he’s a lovely kid, just has a childlike way of thinking. He’s hopeful,” the hybrid shrugged, turning back towards the girl with a nod, “I’m Hoseok, by the way, It’s nice to meet you finally, I’ve been waiting so long.” 

She blushed, realizing she had been taking her time with meeting most of the hybrids, having talked to the five before him for over two hours. She hadn’t even realized how long it had taken her to introduce herself to them all. This is probably why she was a good fit for the job. She can have time pass really easily. 

“You’re a red panda, right? A rare sight to see.” She admitted, trying to change topics.

“I am! I’m quite rare on this side of the world, yes, I’m not originally from here.” Hoseok nods,

“They really don’t teach us about red pandas in school, you know? We learn the very basics about pandas. I don’t think I learned anything about red pandas.” 

Laughing at her comment, the hybrid shook his head. Of course it was rare to see red pandas talked about in schooling, they’re mostly only learned about when it came to natural habitat. Most of the time, they were taught in places like India and China, where you could actually find them. Not here. 

“I guess we’ll both be teaching each other something. If you don’t mind.. I would like to learn about hybrid things as well! We can be each others teachers.”  Hoseok smiled, hopeful.

“I would love that, actually. I would love to learn about red pandas. You are someone I take care of, I’d like to know more about you and your hybrid side. I’m sure there’s so much to learn as well. I’m excited.” She bounced on the balls of her feet.

Making plans with the hybrids was nice, she felt like she was getting along with mostly everybody. Standing back at the medicine table, she realized she only had one more pill cup left. 

Glancing over at the last hybrid, she swallowed. She could tell why the hybrid was sent into a center. It broke her heart, but she knew how people and hybrids were. If they didn’t fit the usual stereotype of the hybrid, they weren’t wanted or cared about.

Most bunnies had small figures, shorter in height, smaller in size, most were grey or white colored, and they had more feminine features as well. This bunny seemed to be quite the opposite. His shoulders weren’t the broadest, but he definitely looked more masculine than feminine besides maybe his facial features. He was built larger than most as well, seemed about a few inches from six foot, larger thighs and biceps, he looked more like a man than a boy. 

If she were seeing them from far away, ears hidden, she would assume the Samoyed and bunny were the opposite species. The pup had a figure closer to a stereotypical bunny while the bunny had the stereotypical body of a dog, she thought the stereotype breaking of both species was adorable. She loved the idea that you would be surprised seeing their species.

“The most rare breed of rabbit..” she spoke quietly as she red over the paperwork, glancing back over to the boy. 

How in the world did one of the most rare breeds of rabbit end up in a center? 

“Blanc De Hotot.. You are the most rare rabbit to exist. How are you here?” her voice came out weak, now that she was standing closer to the hybrid. 

No, she did not realize how harsh the comment came out or how wrong it could sound to any of the hybrids in the room. She was completely shocked that someone willingly got rid of him. He was the most rare. 

“When you aren’t sought after in sex work, they don’t want you anymore.” the hybrid spit, rolling his eyes are her comment, though, he was confused on how he was a rare breed.

“I’m sorry to hear that, I’m glad you refused such terrible work, I would rather be on the streets than to be forced to sleep with people I didn’t know. It’s a harsh business to work in, especially for hybrids.” her voice was barely audible by the human ear. 

He tensed at her words but kept his eyes down as he grabbed the items from her hands, allowing himself to take the medications. It wasn’t the fact that he hated the sex work, it gave him a place to stay while also relieving himself of anger or frustration. But once he couldn’t take the work, he was shoved into the streets, a bunny who had only known labs and then sex work from a young age.

“At least while you’re here, you can take care of yourself and then get an owner who will take you in with care and not with ideas of slaving you around.” She smiled happily, completely confusing the poor bunny.

He was going to be sold off to someone else? He had no idea they they took in animals just to sell them off when they felt like it. He left for a reason. He wanted to live on his own and become his own person. He didn’t want to just be sold off to someone else. He’d rather staying this room with the people he had gotten used to being around, people who would become his friends or family, people he trusted to leave him in his own room without bothering him. 

Anger built inside the bunny, fingers squeezing the milk bottle until the liquid exploded on both him and the worker, resulting in a small squeal falling from her lips as the cold liquid soaked into her clothing. He pushed up from his seat before slamming the bottle against the females chest, hearing the side doors shove open.

“Jungkook.. Please don’t.” her small voice came out, hands wiping at the wet feeling on her chest. 

“They plan on reselling us? They plan on taking us in and then shipping us off to some new owner?” He snapped towards the male, ears twitching at the anger radiating from him

“No, no that’s not what i meant, that’s not what i meant at all.” The female tried to calm the hybrid down as well, letting the milk drop to the floor.

His hands raised before she was shoved to the side, hands gripping onto the medicine tray as the bunny stormed his way towards a side door. She whipped around and faced the fox hybrid, eyes widened before she realized exactly why the bunny stopped being forced into sexual work, he had a temper, a bad temper. 

  The same worker from before found his way next to the girl, smirk filling his lips as he watched her realized she had to actually be strong around the hybrids. She only rolled her eyes, wiping her clothes with her free hand, smiling sadly at the fox, hoping his body would relax from what happened.

“You can leave. I’ll clean up here and try speaking with the hybrid.” The girl muttered, grabbing the milk bottle from the floor.

“There’s not way you’ll make it a week. Chanyeol was an idiot for thinking you were a good fit with this group. They’re a group of unwanted hybrids with bad tempers. You’ll figure it out. Ones already shown his true colors. Just wait.” the man spoke, smirk only widening as the girl stared at him.

‘I do not care who you are or who you think you are to be speaking to me like that. These are my hybrids now. I want you out of this room or I will be calling Chanyeol. Do you think he’ll take sides with his friend or some rude worker who attacked a hybrid and threw milk on his friend before trying to scare her off?” 

  She knew what she said was manipulative or against her own morals but she refused to let some man sit here and tell her she wasn’t strong enough for this job. She would not back down. This is the job she wanted and the job she fought years of school for. 

“Get out of my room.” her voice cracked as she spoke, but the fear now crawling up her legs was something she or the hybrids couldn’t ignore. 

The male instantly went for the door after her threats, leaving the girl to bend over to try and calm her anxiety down. How the hell she had the balls to say that, she will never know. It scared her thinking on it. 

“I’ll check on Jungkook and when I get back, I would like to know what you guys would like to eat or drink from now on. I’ll be ordering food from the cafeteria now and I would like for it to be something you guys will actually like.” she spoke, now quiet, scared she would sound too harsh.

Without giving any of them time to answer her or say anything, she made her way towards the door that Jungkook stormed off into. She took a deep breath, thinking about what to say when she’s in front of him. She hopes it’ll work out. 

“I’ll go in and try to speak with him, if you hear any commotion, please do come in after me, you have every right to manhandle me if anything is happening as well, I get I'm not strong looking, but I do kick shins really well.” she spoke to the other hybrids.

Knocking gently, she pushed her way into the room when she hear a grunt in reply. When she closed the door, she gently backed up so her body was pressed into the cold metal. This is her time to try and make amends with the hybrid. If he forgave her or not was not up to her, this would take time. 

  Now that she looks around, it looks like a casual college kids room. posters rested against the walls here and there, a laptop even sat on a nightstand. How he was able to have one, she wouldn’t question. Weirdly enough, the room almost reminded her of her older brothers college dorm when he was still in college.

“Why are you in here?” the bunny snapped from his bed, hands bunched up in his lap.

“Jungkook, I want to apologize for what I said,” she bent her head down, trying to seem less intimidating, “I don’t think you’ll be sold off if you don’t want it. I make all final decisions, If you don’t want adopted, I can refuse any offers made until you know what you want. I can’t promise you that the others wont want to leave though, that’s up to them.” 

The boy stayed quiet, watching the female as she waited for his reply. He wouldn’t be so forgiving, he couldn’t. He’s seen how horrible humans were. How horrible they would treat others and then how quick they would be to manipulate them into liking them after all of it. He couldn’t trust humans. He could trust Namjoon. Only Namjoon was trustworthy. 

“I do not want to be sold off into another family. It’s bad enough being treated like another slave here, I don’t want to be owned by anyone. If you ever sell me off, I don’t know what I’ll do, but It will not be pretty.” The rabbit snapped out, standing from his bed to try and look big.

He didn’t need to try and look anything when the female was shaking like a leaf in front of him. How little was she told when she decided to take the job offer? How little does she know about this place?

“When things come out of the dark, I don’t want you to change your mind about this. If you’re here to be a caregiver, you stay. You are not allowed to leave, you hear me? Chanyeol can make you think what you want.. but when you see the truth.. you cant leave.” 

hi <3

[kingliam2019]

I Know You're Out There Somewhere     3 a

( Still one year ago flashback)

“Thanks for meeting me, Daniel,” Riley smiled at her former coworker. 

“Of course, Ri. What’s up?”

She and Daniel sat in a booth at her old restaurant. Riley had called him as soon as she had stepped foot on New York soil. 

Riley smiled sadly. “I needed to get away from Cordonia. Permanently. I was wondering if I could crash with you until I found a job and place on my own.”

Daniel’s face lit up. “Of course, Ri! That would be awesome!”

Riley couldn’t help but feel Daniel’s infectious joy. 

“Thank you!” She squealed. 

The two hammered out details. She had money from selling the gowns she wore from the Social Season and leftover savings in her bank account— she paid Daniel two month’s rent and he gave her a key. 

He had a studio apartment. The two put up a wall of curtains in the middle of the “bedroom” to create privacy. They had fun making the space their own. Riley really did want to stay with Daniel for longer than a few weeks, but she was worried that Liam would find her. She was also worried that Liam would find Daniel, so when she decided to leave, she didn’t even tell him.

Riley didn’t tell Daniel that she was pregnant; the fewer people who knew, the better. She just hoped that Maxwell hadn’t told Liam like he had promised. 

The day after she talked to Daniel, she called an old friend who could help her change her name, documents, etc,  all under the table. There would be no record of this name change. No forwarding addresses for Liam to find. 

Riley tried to get her job back at her old bar, but the manager had already disliked Riley before she quit with no notice. Riley searched for two weeks nonstop, before she gave up. She only had enough money to pay one more month’s  worth of rent in her savings account, and sometimes it took a good three weeks before seeing a solid check. 

Three weeks after stepping foot in New York, the woman formerly known as Riley Brooks decided to leave. Riley Brooks stayed in New York and Gabrielle Young left for California. 

Daniel came home from work one day to a note on his bed:

Thank you for everything, Daniel. But I have to leave. I love you. I’ll call you when I know I’m safe.

When Daniel read that note, his blood turned cold. He hoped that Riley was okay. 

******

Gabby stood in front of a rather remarkable building. She blinked at the at least 10-story building. It was massive, must be sitting on 40 Acres of land. This building supposedly held one of the most powerful women in California. This woman promised riches and parties for the social elite. 

Gabby gathered her courage and knocked three times on the front door. She was greeted by a big, burly, and scary looking man. His voice was gruff. “Can I help you?”

Gabby swallowed hard. “I’m here to meet Clara.” She held out Clara’s card that was given to women with nothing turning them into something. Her key to riches and parties. Gabby’s hand shook as the man appraised her. 

“This way.” The man opened the door and indicated for Gabby to come inside.

The interior was far superior. The flooring was dark-stained oak. The walls were a gorgeous blue green and were decorated with tasteful paintings. Riley could see the kitchen from the front door. It was all white fixtures with stainless steel appliances. There were also doors in her sight, as well. One was glass French doors; they sat open. 

The seating area near the front door had contemporary furniture, all white, including the end tables and coffee table. 

“Wait here,” the burly man instructed. 

He disappeared with a confirmation from Gabby.. She awkwardly sat on the couch. Her heart pounded. Could she really do this? She had to. She had to save up for her baby. Her hand hovered over her stomach momentarily. 

“Gabrielle,” A woman called out. 

Showtime, Gabby thought. She plastered a smile on her face before standing and facing her new boss. 

“ Clara?, ”Gabby returned. 

Clara approached Gabby and gave her a warm hug. Gabby hugged her back. She couldn’t help but feel welcomed by Clara.

Clara Barton was a gorgeous redhead who stood at 5’8” and was always in charge. Her presence was commanding; nobody could help but follow her instructions. 

“I’m glad you decided to call. Please, let’s go to my office.” Carla smiled at Gabby and waved toward the French doors. 

Gabby and Clara entered the room and shut the doors. 

“Sit, sit!” Clara gestured to the chair in front of the large dark oak desk.

Gabby sat on one of the chairs in front of Clara’s desk. Carla walked around and sat behind her desk. Carla sized Gabby up and down. 

“You’re very pretty,” she stated matter-of-factly. 

Gabby chuckled awkwardly. “Thank You.”

“I mean it, Gabby You’re gorgeous.” 

“Ah, thank you.” Gabby was squirming under this attention. 

Clara cleared her throat. “First things first. Do you think you have what it takes to do this job? People flock here because they see dollar signs. They don’t realize how much actually goes into this business. It can also be soul-sucking.”

More soul-sucking than being a suitor for a Crown Prince? 

Gabby smiled brightly. “I waited tables for six years. My customer service is second to none.”

“Good,” Clara said thoughtfully. She squinted at Gabby. “Tell me, Gabby Why California?”

Gabby was taken aback, but only for a second. She clicked her tongue thoughtfully. “I needed to get away. California, especially here, is a good place to reinvent yourself.”

Clara seemed pleased with Gabby’s answer. “Well then, Gabby, let me tell you more about this job and you can decide if you want to get started.”

Gabby nodded.

“All of our clients must meet certain standards. They must make a certain amount of money.” Clara saw the confusion on Gabby’s face. “You see,I run a High- end Hotel for the Elite”.

Gabby nodded again, trying to absorb all of this.

“Now, most of our clients are mostly millionaires who are looking to get away from the daily grind of their lives to just come and relax in the quiet mountain side, we give them free range of the place but, we keep them within the grounds, that’s why we have 40 Acres for them to relax, they can go on walks around the place, swim, play games or do nothing if they wish. This is more like a home away from the grind of their work. As you get more comfortable with being here you’ll see what there is for them to do. Any questions so far?”

Gabby’s head swam. “No, not really.”

Clara smiled. “I saw you on that street corner, looking sad and I saw something in your eye’s that said you are not one to be out on the streets, you have a certain look of higher class. You see Gabby I’m looking for someone who can run this business, I want to retire and I want a fresh face here to take over, don’t get me wrong the staff I have is great I trust them with everything, but everything is so rutine  and I feel like you can be the one to bring new ideas and to oversee the running of this High -End resort”

Gabby plastered another smile on her face.” Can I really do this? I was a front runner for Queen. How much harder can this be from running a Country? Yes I can do this, show them that I AM GOOD ENOUGH” She thought to herself.

Gabby sat a lot straighter and more confident in her chair and gave Clara a genuine smile.

 “When can you start?” Clara asked as she saw the shift in Gabby’s confidence.

“Tonight,” Gabby beamed. She was anxious to get off the street. 

“Wonderful!” Clara cooed. “Do you have any belongings?”

Gabby nodded. “Just one suitcase.”

“Great, we'll set you up tonight in your room, get you settled, have a meal, relax and we’ll start in the Morning.”

“Sound’s great Clara, thank you.”

Clara took her suitcase and led her to the elevator to the top floor where her office and room’s were. Once getting to the floor Clara gave Gabby her key to her room and showed her where everything is and told her to get rest. It's going to be a full day tomorrow. For the first time in since boarding that flight to Cordonia  and coming to California she finally felt relaxed and safe.

@ao719 @bebepac @bbrandy2002 @dcbbw @texaskitten30 @txemrn @kingliamandriley  @persaphone13 @queenrileyrose   

sorry if i missed anyone

[just-a-creep-babe]

Work Pest

(Habit x Reader)

Commissioned again by @selfshippinglover thank you so much bby, I love this mans 💖👄💖 I hope you like it <3

This ended up having a lot more plot than I initially planned, so I hope that's alright :”) Also I’ve never worked at a grocery store so I hope this isn’t too inaccurate 😅

~Requests are closed~

Masterlist: x

“Hey, (y/n). Hope you’re ready to work a lot today—we just got a shipment twice as big as we’re used to”

You hold back a groan as you set your things down at your spot in the employee’s room

You haven’t even started your shift yet and you’re already dreading the monotonous, repetitive work you’ll be doing for the next eight hours

“And the new person we hired just bailed on us, so you’ll be on your own for a while…” she reluctantly continues

This time, you don’t bother quieting your disapproval

“Crap, really? I thought they liked it here”

“Yeah, well, apparently they didn’t… They said something about the boss being too demanding before leaving”

You sigh

While it is true that your manager orders you around a lot, you don’t think he‘s too overbearing

It is his job, after all—he does what he has to in order to keep things working

“Alright, well, any more problems I should be made aware of?”

You give your coworker a teasing smile, trying to lighten the mood

Despite being the bearer of bad news, you know none of this is her fault, and she’s just trying to make end’s meet

In fact, between the two of you, even though she does have a higher position, you’re probably in a better financial situation than she is, thanks to a certain powerful entity that’s on your side 

“I think that’s it,” she answers, clearly relieved that you’re not upset with her

“And, hey, after our shift is over,” she adds, “how ‘bout we go out for some fast food? On me”

“That sounds good,” you hum, “I could go for some curly fries”

“Great! It’s a date,” she giggles

And before you can pipe in again, she’s gathering her things and heading out to the front

You shake your head, chuckling

She knows you have a boyfriend—and a very possessive one at that—but it never stops her from being flirty

If anything, she finds it funny

If only she knew what she was messing with…

Releasing another sigh, you shake the thought away and ready yourself for the day’s plentiful work

•••

The first half of your shift flies by without a hitch

You lose yourself in your work, mind zoning off to the familiar daydreams that always keep you company

It’s only when you finish stocking the fourth aisle that you realize you might not get everything done today

You hate knowing your boss will ask you to stay overtime, but you tell yourself it’s not your fault

You’re doing everything you can with the time you have—this just wasn’t meant to be a one-person job

Still, you try not to let it get to you as you stack cans of food together in neat little rows

Just as you begin pushing your trolley of now empty shipment boxes back to the storage room, you’re suddenly forced to a halt as you bump into a shopper you hadn’t noticed

“Oh, shoot! I’m so sorry, I didn’t—Habit?”

Surely enough, your one and only possessive lover is standing in front of your cart, his hand outstretched to stop you from hitting him, with that damn grin on his face

He tuts playfully

“You should watch where you’re going, little rabbit~ You could’ve seriously injured little ol’ me”

He flashes his pearly white canines, his lips playfully curling back

“H-habit, what’re you doing here? I have a ton of stuff to do today, I can’t get distracted”

His smile falters, but only for a second before quickly returning

“Aww, c’mon, little rabbit, don’t be like that”

He makes his way around the cart, casually sauntering up to you

You’re forced to step back a few paces as he presses closer into you—all the way until your back’s hitting the shelves and he’s got you cornered

Two strong, thick arms cage you in

You pray to god that no one—especially not your boss or coworker, walk in on you in such a predicament

“Don’t try to tell me your work isn’t boring. I’m just trying to help out by spicing things up a bit~” he practically purrs as he leans in even closer

“Besides, I’ve missed my little rabbit,” he admits, “I haven’t had nearly enough time to spend with you recently. I’m just trying to make up for that”

He’s so close

The distance between the two of you is nearly nonexistent

His eyes keep flickering to your mouth and you can tell he wants you to kiss him

You want to kiss him too

You really, really do

But just as you’re about to lean in, you manage to snap yourself out of it

There’s no way you’ll be able to resist giving in if you press your lips to his

He’ll have you wrapped around his finger if you slip up and you both know it

So, you press your hands to his broad chest and gently push him away, despite already missing his closeness as soon as you do so

“H-Habit, no—stop-stop trying to distract me,” you stutter

He “hmphs,” narrowing his eyes, almost challenging you to change your mind

But you don’t back down—you won’t

You cross your arms and quirk your brow, trying to look as set and confident in your decision as you possibly can

And, surely enough, a few moments of staring each other down, he gives up, sighing grumpily

“Fine. Can you at least finish early today? The house feels so empty without you,” he pouts, and you have to stifle your laughter because here he is, this all-powerful being, acting like a spoiled child because he wants to spend time with you

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” you apologize, “I think I’ll have to work overtime tonight”

You intentionally leave out the part where your coworker asked you out on a date, because even though it is platonic, you know damn well he wouldn’t react too kindly to the news

He groans

“You’re gonna be the death of me, (y/n)”

•••

After Habit leaves, you’re left to return your focus and attention back to your work without any more distractions

Or at least, for the moment, anyways

You fill out more shelves, meticulously restocking every product so that they look as appealing as possible for customers to buy

Back and forth, you move between the back room and the open aisles more times than you care to count, lugging box after box full of fresh, new supplies to place in their designated spots

You’re a little over halfway through the shipment when you get to the breakfast section

Half empty shelves of granola bars, oatmeals and cereals attract a few customers that absent-mindedly compare labels

Maneuvering through them, you spot what needs to be refilled and begin getting to work

You push the few boxes that remain to side to make room for the new ones

And, lo and behold, when you look back through the now open space in the shelves, you’re met with a signature grin from the other side

“Who’s this little cutie? Fancy meeting you here~”

“Habit!” you cry out his name, voice escaping much louder than you expected

You can feel the customers simultaneously all turn their attention to you—like you’re a madwoman for exclaiming his name to yourself

Your face flushes beneath their inquisitive gazes

You lean in, trying to ignore them to talk to the man on the other side

“Why are you still here?” you urge, torn between wanting to keep your voice down and being too surprised to control your volume

“Awh, you aren’t happy to see me again, bunny?~” he teases

Seeing him again does lift your spirits, but you know if you admit it, he won’t let it go

“You know that’s not the case,” you sigh, “I just have a lot to get done today”

A customer passes by behind you, and you watch as Habit’s face tenses and he almost snarls when they linger to give you a strange look

But then they move away, and his eyes snap back to you, carefree grin returning like nothing happened in the first place

“Well, don’t let me distract you. I’m just doing some grocery shopping. Why else would I be here? Certainly not because the enchantingly beautiful employee won’t get out of my head…”

You almost want to look mad at him for tempting you away from your work—again—but his grinning is contagious

And he looks so charming with that playful, mischievous look in his eyes that you’re utterly powerless to stop the smile from spreading to your face

You shake your head, and it seems like his demeanor relaxes a little, seeing that he’s made you smile

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Before he can say anything else and further distract you, you replace the hole in the shelf with a box of cereal, effectively cutting off your opening for conversation

Hearing him grunt from the other side has you snickering

You don’t know what’s gotten into him today, but you do know he’s not gonna make this shift easy for you

Admittedly, can’t say you aren’t thankful for it, though

Finishing the shelf you’re currently on, you move onto the next portion of work ahead of you

You manage to finish up the whole aisle with relative speed and ease, thinking about Habit the whole time and how he‘s probably still lurking around the corner, waiting to surprise you

You bring your cart back to the storage room, unpack the empty boxes, heave on some loaded ones, and return to the front once more

You’re about to finish stocking up the next aisle when you feel a tap on your shoulder

You shake your head, smiling

“Habit, at least let me finish these boxes…”

When you turn around, instead of being faced with who you expect, you find your coworker, her brow quirked expectantly with her lips tugging into a smile

“Crap, I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else,” you laugh awkwardly, your face warming

How many times are you going to embarrass yourself today?

She laughs along

“Yeah, no kidding. I saw your boyfriend, though. He was chatting up the boss... more like threatening, actually. Just figured I should let you know,” she explains with a shrug

“Crap. I shouldn’t have told him I’d have to stay behind tonight,” you groan, smacking your face into your palm

“Hey, it’s no big. Maybe the boss will stop understaffing us if he scares him good enough. Here, why don’t you go check up on them?” she suggests, gently nudging you in the direction of his office, “I’ll finish this up for you real quick”

“Thanks. Really, you’re a lifesaver”

“Oh stop, it’s nothing,” she reassures you, laughing again

“We can reschedule our date, too. I don’t wanna face your guard dog’s wrath,” she teases

If you could sweat-drop like an anime character, you’d be doing that just about now

As much as you love her, she really has no idea what she’s messing with when it comes to Habit

“R-right, thanks again. I’ll try not to be too long. I’ll be back to pick up on the next section!” you call back over your shoulder, already heading to your boss’ rescue

But right as you’re turning around a corner, you bump into something hard and solid

The impact would have knocked you on your ass, if it wasn’t for the warm pair of hands wrapping around your hips to keep you upright

“Easy now, little rabbit. Didn’t I say you should watch where you’re going? You could’ve hurt yourself”

“J-jesus fuck, you’re gonna give me a heart attack one day!”

You press your hand to your chest, trying to calm your frantically beating heart

He chuckles, the sound smooth and husky, as he pulls you in closer

“Relax, bunny. You know I’d never let anything bad ever happen to you~”

You groan, stuffing your face into the crook of his neck as he rocks you back and forth

“You’re an absolute pest today, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know,” he snickers, “But, hey, on the bright side, your manager just had a sudden change of heart and he won’t be making you work overtime. I think he might even let you leave early. Isn’t that great news?”

He’s not even trying to hide the fact that he just threatened the person you work for

You groan and push away from him

“Habit, what did I say about threatening people?” you ask, admonishing him like you’re disciplining a new puppy

His smirk falls

“Not to,” he begrudgingly grumbles

Your mouth quirks into a smile

He’s so adorable, you can’t possibly stay mad at him

“Alright, it’s ok. All is forgiven. But I’m still finishing my shift for the day, m’kay?”

You gently pat him on the cheek, hoping he’ll agree without further argument

But, of course, him being him, he doesn’t drop the matter so quickly

“Why?” he huffs, “You don’t even have to work. I can give you all the money—all the crap you could possibly ever want. Why don’t you let me spoil you?”

He purrs out that last part, his voice splitting

You look off to the side, contemplating how you should word your next sentence

“Habit…” you hesitate, not wanting to hurt his feelings, “I just… I feel like I need to do this. It makes me feel productive, like I’m helping out. I don’t wanna sit around and just do nothing all the time, you know?”

“You wouldn’t be doing nothing all the time, bunny. You’d be keeping me entertained~”

He croons the last word in his true voice again, gently taking both your hands in his and pressing them to his chest, that playful expression never leaving his face

You roll your eyes, fighting off a smile for the umpteenth time today

“I have to get back to work, Habit. My coworker can’t cover me forever”

He groans when you pull away—again

“My shift’s almost done, I’ll see you in a few hours, m’kay?”

Without waiting for his reply, you turn the other way and start making a beeline to the next portion of stock that needs to be refilled

You feel his eyes on you the whole time that you’re walking away

•••

Finally

Finally

After what feels like way too long, you reach the second to last section you need to refill

You’ve skipped over a quarter of the work you’ve had to do, telling yourself you’ll just have to suck it up and do it on your next shift

But, for now, you have about an hour and a half to finish whatever you can

You think for sure Habit’s left the store by now

There’s no way he’d stick around that long just to mess with you

But you’re quick to realize you’re deeply mistaken as a familiar voice croons “missed a spot~” right near your ear as you’re stacking cans of soup

“F-fuck!” you swear loudly, jumping in surprise, hands fumbling with the can you’re holding until it slips from your grasp and onto the floor

But before it can hit the ground, with reflexes faster than you can keep up with, Habit snatches it back up like it’s nothing

Your whirl around to face him, only to find him inches away from you

His mouth, curled up into that same damn smirk, is unbearably tantalizingly close

“Careful, little rabbit,” he chuckles, “you almost made a mess. This could’ve burst open”

He throws the can up in the air as he speaks, then catches it back into his hands, toying with it

He’s so smug

“You scared the shit out of me! What’re you still doing here?”

He steps back, holding his free hand to his heart in mock offence

“I stay with you at your work, trying to make your day brighter, and this is the thanks I get? Unbelievable,” he shakes his head, tsking

As silly as it is, knowing he’s stuck around such a boring place for this long—just for you—has you feeling all kinds of warm and fuzzy

"Come on, you know I didn’t mean it like that,” you laugh, trying to bargain with him

It’s all it takes for him to drop the act

“I know,” he winks, “besides, I knew I had to keep an eye on you. You’re so clumsy~”

You decide it’s your turn to fake offence

“Oh yeah? And who’s fault is that?” you ask, sassily placing your hands on your hips

“Mine,” he proudly admits, voice splitting for a moment

You’re torn between wanting to smack that smug grin off of him and wanting to kiss him

Deciding the latter is probably better, you lean in

But just as your lips are ghosting over his, you hear a surprised “oh!” from down the alley

You pull apart immediately to find your coworker standing a few feet away

Her face cracks into a huge grin as you make eye contact

“My bad, didn’t mean to bother you! Carry on, lovebirds~”

“W-wait—!”

Before you can stop her, she’s turning on her heels and speed walking into the opposite direction

You’re mortified

You’re about to chase after her, but Habit wraps his arms around you and pulls you flush to him once more

“Ah ah ah,” he chastises, “no you don’t. I’ve been waiting all damn day for a kiss and I’m not letting you go until I’ve had it”

“B-but Habit—“ you whine, squirming in his hold

Unsurprisingly, you’re helpless to escape him

He’s so much stronger than you; he doesn’t even budge

“No buts! Only kisses,” he insists

You still want to head after your coworker, but how could you possibly resist that lopsided grin?

With an exaggerated defeated sigh, you give in

“Well… I suppose if I don’t have any other choice…”

“You don’t~”

He takes your hands and wraps them around his neck, making you hold onto him so that you can press your nose to his

“In 47 minutes and 56 seconds, I’m gonna get you out of this place and we can go watch some cheesy movie—your pick,” he hums

Your lips twitch into a smile

“I’d like that. But you’re still gonna owe me for distracting me so much today. My shift isn’t even over and you’re making me slack off as if I’m not on the clock”

“Yeah, well, about that…”

His grin widens, and you immediately recognize that look; he’s done something you wouldn’t approve of

“Oh no,” you groan, pulling away, “what did you do?”

He shrugs, snickering to himself

“Your boss thought you were working so damn hard lately that you deserve a break. So he’s been so generous as to give you the day off tomorrow”

“What!? But there’s so much work to be done!”

“Yeah, well, I managed to convince the fucker to hire someone else—someone who won’t bail on you and who’ll actually help out from now on. Tomorrow’s their first day, so you’ve no need to come in”

You look at him, beyond incredulous

“What? How did you manage to get him to do that on such short notice?”

“I have my ways~ Now. If I’m not mistaken, I believe I’m still owed a kiss. Two now, I’d say, since I saved your ass from having to do all this work by yourself”

You roll your eyes

Quickly leaning in, you give him a peck on the cheek

He quirks his brow, expecting more

And when you go to kiss his other cheek, he turns his head and your lips finally connect

You hum against him, savoring his warmth pressing against you, lingering for a moment before parting

“You’re an absolute pest,” you remind him again

“Don’t worry, little rabbit, I know~” he chuckles, “and you love it”

“You’re right, I do,” you agree, as you move back in to connect your lips to his one more time

[cinnaminsvga]

A Boy Like You | Yoongi

→ summary: for whenever you are feeling low, always remember that there is a boy you know who would lift the sky for you.

{or alternatively: Min Yoongi loves you, though he never says it. He’s always been a firm believer in that actions speak louder than any words ever could.}

→ genre: coworker!au, f2l, fluff → warnings: an overabundance of shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to squish his cheeks; kinda ooc but it is what it is → words: 11.5K → a/n: whaddup kids it’s ya girl... back from the dead after months of not writing shit, and what’s this owo... it’s a fluff fic?? miracles do happen... anyway i wrote this bc i just thot “man, wouldn’t it be super epic if i wrote a super self-indulgent fic where yoongi fulfills every single one of my deepest desires?” well... here is THIS!! pls feel free to scream into a pillow bc i certainly did!! enjoy!!

There is a boy you know who likes to show his kindness quietly. It would go something like this:

The air is thick with static; your hair stands up on end: a warning. The scent of raindrops hitting hot pavement graces your nostrils as a waterfall drops from the sky. You see the sea of heads begin to disappear under a canopy of multi-colored umbrellas. You, the lone ranger, rush back into the building from whence you came, dragging puddles and annoyance with you.

You should have anticipated it, should have thought to check the weather app before scrolling through dull social media posts when you left your house that morning. Instead, your fingers are left cold and umbrella-less.

You tilt your head upwards, watching as gallon upon gallon fell from the sky in an endless cycle. The watch on your wrist reads 5 PM, but the sky says it is 9 PM. The dark, swirling mass of clouds above you will continue on its thunderous parade, pausing for no one, especially not for you.

Your work bag is practically weightless, devoid of anything that might protect you from the onslaught of rain. The only thing inside is a small wallet that holds nothing more than dust and a loose promise of a paycheck. There is no way you can call a taxi like this, and the nearest bus stop is at least two blocks away. You are starting to think that your childhood dreams of becoming a mermaid hadn’t been so ridiculous after all.

Then comes the hand of God. It touches your shoulder gently, hesitantly. You turn around to face a stranger, a boy with shaggy black hair and pale moonlight skin. It is not God, but he comes close.

In his other hand is your salvation wrapped in Kumamon print nylon. It is proffered to you with a silent nod, his gaze fixed somewhere behind you as he waits for you to take it. The tips of his ears begin to redden the longer it takes for you to respond. Eventually, your brain connects with your muscles as you robotically pluck the umbrella from his grasp, a stuttered “thanks” leaving your lips.

He nods stiffly once more, removing his palm from your shoulder as though he had been burned. He shuffles for a moment, mouth opening and closing as he struggles to find the words to say. You wait, patience never waning for the strange boy that you have come to know as your salvation.

He doesn’t find the words after all. You aren’t too offended by his silence, but he appears to be mortified. And so, he leaves just as quickly as he had appeared, like a whirlwind dressed in an oversized blazer flapping behind him like wings. He runs through the rain without another thought, an arm raised above his head in a futile attempt to avoid getting wet.

You try calling out to him, wanting to thank him once more and maybe to ask how you can return his umbrella, but he is long gone. A speck of black dashing through the gray.

You clutch the umbrella closer to you, a feeling of something new growing inside of you. It is too small to call anything, but it is warm.

x x x x x

Umbrella boy has a name, and he happens to work on the same floor as you. You know this because he is standing right in front of you in all his bespectacled glory.

He ducks out of view the moment your eyes meet his. There is a stack of folders in his arms, and he bows his head until his nose touches manila. It’s too late––he knows you caught him staring. He scurries behind walls of filing cabinets and desk cubicles, desperate to get back to his desk where he hopes you’ll never find him.

The office floor is large, but it is not large enough to hide in. It takes only a few minutes until you find him hunched over his desk, every inch of space taken by enough towers of paper to cover a forest. It is no wonder that you never encountered your mysterious umbrella boy; he does a wonderful job of blending in.

Your eyes trail his form, not out of any perverse intent, but just out of curiosity. You never would have guessed from his unassuming and meek nature, but the boy is devastatingly beautiful. The devil is in the details: you admire the soft slope of his nose to the adorable pout of his lips. His eyelids are charmingly mismatched and his cheeks are begging to be pinched. It takes a year’s worth of self-restraint to keep your hands at your sides, if only so you don’t scare him away before you can even introduce yourself.

(You can already imagine your HR department contacting you about nonconsensual manhandling… You admit that you tend to get overzealous with your affection, especially when confronted with cute things. This boy would definitely need to watch out for you if he knows what’s best for him.)

((Also note to self: Stop having these psychopathic conversations with yourself. Being stuck inside the cage which is your brain is torture enough, so let’s not encourage it to get worse.))

There is a lanyard laced around his neck, the gaudy orange color of your company’s logo emblazoned across the thin material. And just out of your line of sight, you catch a glimpse of his ID. His name is––

“Y-Y/N?” He stutters out–no–he squeaks. Ah, so he’s noticed you. The folder in his hand slips out of his grasp, an avalanche of white tumbling all over his lap. He curses loudly, frantically sweeping away the mess under his desk, as if he could somehow magically make them disappear if he just kicked them hard enough. Unfortunately, the papers stay stubbornly tangible, and he is left with a halo of accounting reports around his workspace as a result.

“Are you… umm…” You hesitate with your words, fearing that any sudden movement on your part might cause umbrella boy to combust on the spot. “Do you need help… picking those up?”

“I–Well, no–Yes, but–” His sentences are stilted, his brain struggling to catch up with his tongue. He clamps his mouth shut, then shakes his head like he’s trying to reboot himself. Finally, after a few more deep breaths, he goes, “No. I’m fine. Thank you for offering.” He says that, but he appears awfully content with staring holes into the keyboard of his laptop when he is speaking to you though.

“Still… I’m terribly sorry for startling you,” you say, lips tugging downwards into a frown. You should have guessed he was skittish from how he had acted yesterday, but it’s quite a surprise to see one man so… disastrous, for lack of a better term. It’s awfully cute. “I just wanted to properly introduce myself and thank you for lending me your umbrella yesterday, but it seems like you already knew who I was.”

His face does a weird thing then and there. It almost appears like he was caught in a time loop, like someone was manually reversing and replaying his facial expressions like a video. It takes a few minutes for his little stroke to settle down, but even then, his cheeks remain a rosy pink. “I–I just… remembered your name during the company retreat the other month. I’m not weird or anything, I swear!”

“Well luckily, I was never going to accuse you of being weird anyway!” You laugh, trying to ease the perpetual look of anxiety on his face. However, it only seems to worsen his nerves with how quickly his skin starts to redden. “In fact, I should be apologizing for not remembering your name, Mister..?”

“Min Yoongi,” he replies, pausing for a second too long. He must have realized his delay because he coughs awkwardly into his forearm, averting his gaze away from you in a futile attempt to become nothing more than an abstract thought.

He must be equipped with some sort of superpower, because you’re starting to feel his secondhand embarrassment flood through you like a tsunami. Are you that difficult to converse with? Does he want to be left alone so badly that he’s trying to subtlely tell you to fuck off?

You’re about to start apologizing and scurry off back to your desk in barely concealed mortification when Yoongi clears his throat, his gaze fixed somewhere to your right. Whatever caught his attention must have been revolutionary with how large his eyes are, although last you remember is that the wall behind you is the same dull jailcell gray that you have come to know and hate.

“I just… I’m sorry if I’m acting odd right now. I just wasn’t expecting you to come to my cubicle and I would’ve… I don’t know, tidied up? If I knew you were coming,” he mutters, propping his glasses back up when they start sliding down his nose. They make their slow descent back down immediately after, forever on an endless cycle of up and down his face.

“You don’t have to clean up just for me! I’m not your manager or anything,” you say, surveying the absolute disaster zone that is his workspace. For his benefit, you sure hope that he has a map of his desk and filing cabinets, as it would have been a miracle otherwise if he memorized where anything was located in his personal office sty. “Though, it would be nice if you could see the bottom of your desk every once in a while.”

To your immense surprise, Yoongi lets out a resounding laugh at your quip. Though Yoongi isn’t a mute by any means, it isn’t like he spoke with much volume either. You hadn’t even thought your joke was funny enough to deserve a strained Caucasian™️ smile, so you appreciate that he had considered that you were even slightly funny. You love the pleasant tinkling of his laughter, so genuinely joyous that you can’t help but want to make a fool of yourself just so you can hear it again and again.

When Yoongi stops, the familiar reddish hue that has made a home on his cheeks resurfaces, though it’s less from embarrassment now. His shoulders are more relaxed, and he doesn’t look like he wants to crawl out of his skin as much. He still has eyes averted away from you, however. “Sorry. I don’t know why I laughed too hard at that. I’m normally not this weird… I think it’s just the nerves.”

You cock your head to the side. “Nerves? From what?”

Yoongi freezes, mouth gaping open slightly. “I, umm…” He coughs into his white button-up sleeve, pupils shaking as he formulates a response. “Just from… work. Yeah, I just have a lot of paperwork to do this week and I’ve been, er, having difficulty relaxing.”

Yoongi visibly breathes a sigh of relief when you accept his flimsy excuse, not really lingering on the validity of his statement. “Oh, sure! Don’t overwork yourself too much, okay?” you say, smiling sweetly back at him. He stares, wide-eyed, not really sure how to go on with his life after he’d been blasted by the full force of your grin.

God, you hope you remembered to use a toothpick during lunch. Was there spinach in your teeth? Oh fuck.

“Gah,” he intones, his brain not fully cooperating with his mouth just yet. If you were any more socially inept, you’d probably be doing the same. Eventually, he clears his throat and tries again. “Uh. Yes. I’ll try to do better next time.”

Feeling like you’ve overstayed your visit, you decide that it might be best for you to leave him be before either of you do or say anything more awkward and stupid. Before you turn to leave however, you decide to extend your hand forward, hoping to erase all the previous awkwardness between the both of you and hopefully start afresh. Even though you’ve only just met, you can’t help but feel drawn to him, wanting to see him again and somehow gain his friendship. “Hey, no sweat. It was really nice meeting you, Yoongi-ssi.”

“Just Yoongi is fine,” he says, almost like an afterthought. He’s so busy staring at your proffered hand that you are afraid that you might have offended him unknowingly or something. Does he think you don’t wash your hands? Given by the fact that your office’s manager refuses to restock the soap dispensers at the washrooms, that isn’t that much of a stretch. Or maybe he was weirded out by your random handshake? Have handshakes become antiquated these days? Are the kids no longer doing it? Are you supposed to do those awful brohugs like the fresh-out-of-college interns do in the breakroom? Oh God, does Yoongi think you’re old?!

While you were in the midst of your mental breakdown, you soon begin to realize why Yoongi had contemplated returning your handshake for so long. Instead of taking your hand immediately, Yoongi rubs his own two palms together first, much like how one would when warming their hands in front of a fire. He takes care to blow on them slightly before grasping your hand firmly in his, finally bestowing you with your much awaited handshake.

“Umm..?” You stare at your intertwined hands, a little confused about the previous series of events that just happened five seconds ago. Yoongi, in all his adorable and flustered glory, releases your hand much too quickly like he’s been shocked, most likely realizing (belatedly) that what he had done might not be as clear to an observer as it is to himself.

“Oh, I – I’m so sorry about that, again.” Yoongi stutters, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s just – my hands are really cold so I was trying to warm them up before I held your hands. I’m – I only just realized how odd that must have looked. Sorry.”

A rush of endearment and warmth surges through you as you behold this high strung boy, your heart flooded with a mix of emotions that make you feel gooey and blissful in one perfect package. No, this boy is the perfect package, all soft edges and blushy cheeks. It’s going to take a mountain and a room of vengeful deities to stop you from walking past his desk to catch a glimpse of him at this rate.

Oh God, you’re whipped already and it’s only been a few minutes since you said hello. He warmed his hand for you for heaven’s sake! Surely your enthusiasm can be excused in this one instance.

“That’s, uhh…” Now it seems that it is your turn to be at a loss of words, your throat clogged with a clump of newly discovered feelings that you don’t have enough time to sort through at the moment. The hamster running circles inside your brain has long since ground to a halt, and if Yoongi is going to keep staring at you with those charming cat eyes for any longer, you aren’t sure you’ll be able to convince the little vermin inside your skull to puppet your body again. “That’s… really sweet. Thank you.”

Thank you? Really, Y/N?

“It’s, uh, no problem. Really.” And with that, Yoongi presents to you his most deadly smile to date: blinding whites coupled his prominent pink gums, with his cheeks stretched like proofed dough that make his dark eyes disappear. Is there a pencil wedged inside your chest cavity, or were you just spontaneously having a heart attack? It’s hard to say; all you know is that your organs have turned to slush, and you make a mental note to send the imminent hospital bill to a certain Min Yoongi.

Cause of hemorrhage: being too fucking cute.

With your daily dose of embarrassment fulfilled, you turn to leave with short stilted steps, as if you have to force yourself away from him like those stubborn souvenir shop magnets that never come off the fridge. “I guess I’ll see you around?” you say more like a question, unsure if he’ll even want to ever see you after that disaster of an interaction. Kim Namjoon from Accounting would be entirely too delighted if he ever found out that he wasn’t the most awkward human being in the office.

“Sure? I’ll just be here. As always,” Yoongi replies kindly, same gummy grin on his face, albeit a little more hesitant. “It was nice speaking to you, Y/N.”

When he returns his attention to his workspace, it serves as a signal to you that you really should be going. Before you leave, you take note of the subtle red tint of his ears that reaches the back of his neck, the gentle tremor of his hands as he reorganizes the files that he had previously dropped. It makes you feel odd for relishing in the fact that you hadn’t been the only one feeling the tension between the two of you, though that doesn’t help lessen the confusion that soon follows anyway.

Why are you so drawn to him? You have never felt so strongly for someone this quickly, and frankly it sort of frightened you. You’re too afraid to confront that blossoming curiosity inside of you. No, it’s much too soon for that. For now, however…

“Oh shit. I totally forgot to give him back his umbrella,” you curse yourself once you return to your desk. The smiling face of Kumamon looks at you knowingly, as if this had been planned all along.

Well. Now you have an excuse to see him again tomorrow, at least.

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his tenderness quietly. It would go something like this:

Company dinners shouldn’t feel like as much as a punishment as it does, but that’s just how social gatherings with semi-professional coworkers are like. No one here really wants to be there, but the carefully worded e-mail sent to the entire company clearly suggests that this was more of a “go to the party or risk getting fired” type of deal than anything remotely enjoyable. As much as free food and booze are often harbingers of a good time, it hardly makes any difference when your inebriated boss spends the entire time chatting you up in front of the presence of a dozen or so indifferent associates.

“Oh, Y/N! Good job securing that deal with Mister Park the other day. It’s all thanks to my valuable tutelage, is it not?” your manager guffaws, slapping your back with misplaced camaraderie. He leaves his warm, sweaty palm there, feeling it slide an inch lower than you were comfortable with anyone being. The smell of cheap wine on his breath is making you feel nauseous, and the tacky black and white tiled flooring isn’t doing anything to lessen the incoming migraine.

“Right,” you say with a tight-lipped smile, unable to say anything else lest you lose your job over something silly like establishing boundaries. It’s no wonder that the number of female employees on your floor has significantly dropped over the years, especially with rumors attaching themselves like maggots all over your stupid manager’s name. You wouldn’t be surprised if his stomach exploded ala Alien (1979) style with how much bullshit resides in his body and soul.

You’ve long since given up on anyone saving you, not when everyone was either too busy taking advantage of the free food or too scared to confront your shitty boss. You resign to your fate, ready to scrub yourself clean with a brick once you get home in a futile attempt to rid yourself of the feeling of his hands on you.

That is, until someone clears their throat from behind you.

Salvation comes to you wrapped in a crisp white button-up, thick-rimmed glasses, and cat-like eyes. You almost want to start breaking into Gregorian chant just then to fully express your gratitude to the deities of above for sending an angel in your time of tribulation.

“Excuse me,” the (welcome) intruder says, voice quiet but clear even amidst the cacophonous music and chatter. Min Yoongi steps forward until he is to your right, and you don’t miss the way his shoulder “accidentally” bumps your manager hard enough for him to drop his hand from your back. When Yoongi smiles at your manager, it is all teeth and no mirth, his eyes carefully blank.

Thankfully, your manager isn’t quite as fortunate in his brains department as he is in his stomach. “Oh, Yoongi! It is so nice to finally see you attend one of our social functions. You are enjoying yourself, I hope?” your manager asks, guffawing loudly despite no joke being said. You never did quite understand how some men think they are the most hilarious thing to ever exist since clowns, though you suppose your manager was only missing the red nose to complete the look.

“Thrilled, Mister Lee. Absolutely thrilled,” Yoongi says in a dead monotone voice. You can’t help but giggle at his sarcasm, and Yoongi points a wicked grin back at you before returning to his neutral and passive “work” face.

The sarcasm flies over your managers head like you expected, though you can hardly blame the alcohol for his lack of cognizance. You wouldn’t be half surprised if you knocked lightly on his head, only to hear a resounding echo following thereafter.

“I have never seen you at any of our parties before, Yoongi. What’s with the sudden change of heart?” your manager asks.

“Sir, I’ve attended every single social gathering since I was hired,” Yoongi says plainly, his composure never faltering. He must have better control than you, because you’re sure you would’ve barely held yourself back from smacking your manager had it been you. Though in fairness, you aren’t sure if you’ve ever noticed Yoongi at any of the other parties before this one either.

“Oh really? Well then, you mustn’t have said hello before then!” your manager laughs, patting Yoongi on the shoulder. “Always so enigmatic, our dear Yoongi! Well, keep up the good work.” When your manager turns his attention to speak to another one of your poor coworkers, Yoongi visibly gags from behind your manager’s back, grimacing as he pats away all traces of that foul man’s hand germs away from his dress shirt.

“Gross. Now my sleeve is damp,” he mutters, just audible enough so that only you could hear. You laugh out loud at that, nodding in understanding.

“Same here. There’s probably a gross sweaty handprint on my back now,” you say, wincing when you do feel a noticeable damp spot near the small of your back. “Ugh, what a pig.”

“Tell me about it,” Yoongi shakes his head, making a move to get away from your awful manager. He gestures for you to follow him, and you are more than happy to oblige.

“Thanks for saving me, by the way,” you add, keeping in step with him. He leads you out of the disorienting ballroom, though he doesn’t head towards the exit like you had expected. He appears to know the building much more than you do, given by how assuredly he walks. Either that, or he could be leading you to a deadend, but confidently.

“No problem. You honestly looked like you were about to punt him across the room, though I doubt anyone would be opposed to that magnificent spectacle,” Yoongi jokes, same mischievous grin from before decorating his face. He is so different from the taciturn man you had met two weeks ago, back when he had half-hidden behind his desk like an animal being cornered. Though, that might not be the best analogy to think of, as it only painted you as some sort of predator who came after meek and soft-looking men. Which you aren’t. Hopefully.

“Oh, I would’ve done more than just that, so really he should be thanking you for saving him,” you snort, and Yoongi chuckles lightly in response. Like before, his laughter is just as pleasant as you remember. Your greedy heart yearns to elicit the same sound from him once more, for as many times as you can muster before the night ends.

You had been so immersed in trying to keep up with his quick strides that you don’t notice where exactly he has taken you. The two of you haven’t gone too far away from the ballroom before he stops right in front of a metal double door, the neon green exit sign about it glowing conspicuously in the otherwise dimly lit corridor. He pushes it open, allowing the cool evening air to blow across you and your hand-me-down dress.

“Are we… at the balcony?” you ask, though the view that greets you is answer enough. How Yoongi could have known where the balcony is, you can’t say for certain. But any sort of question dies on your lips when you see how beautiful the skyline is: the stars and city lights twinkling indiscriminately, the sound of nightlife and traffic sounding loud despite the streets being so far away, the smell of ozone signalling an oncoming storm.

This, of course, is what you imagine the view to be like. You know, if the ever reliable Seoul smog wasn’t there to obstruct any sort of magical, romantic view that you should have been privy to.

“Oh damn. I forgot the smog forecast today was especially bad,” Yoongi groans from beside you, quickly shuffling through his pant pockets for a face mask. He procurs two black masks, still in their plastic packaging, and hands one of them to you. “Jesus. Sorry about this. Didn’t expect the smog to be so bad… We can just go back inside, if you want?”

Then, you are reminded of your manager, who is basically pollution incarnate with how terrible his breath is. So, you accept Yoongi’s proffered mask and promptly put it on. “Yeah, no thanks,” you say, voice muffled slightly by the fabric. The implication of your acceptance makes Yoongi grin cheekily back at you (or so you think, guessing by how his eyes crinkle cutely above his mask.)

Now properly equipped to not inhale disgusting air matter into your lungs, you step out farther across the balcony, enjoying the way the cool night breeze feels against your alcohol flushed face. (Though, if you were being honest, the heat on your cheeks has less to do with the meager flute of champagne you had earlier and more to do with the company you currently find yourself with.)

“I fucking hate these company dinners,” you whine a little bit too petulantly, complete with the jutted lip of a child who has been forced to wait as her mother engages in an eternity long conversation with an acquaintance. You lean against the railings near the edge of the building, watching idly as Yoongi does the same. “Don’t you think that if they wanted us to get ‘closer’ with one another, they’d first want to address the fact that some of our coworkers happen to be pigs dressed in white collared shirts?”

Yoongi snorts at that, his right hand immediately coming up to his mouth to silence the unflattering sound. Not that it wasn’t completely charming to you, but you do enjoy the slight abashment that blooms across his face shortly thereafter. “Sorry, didn’t mean to laugh like that. But, I do agree with you… I can’t say that anyone in our department is especially fond of that Habsburg motherfucker.”

Maybe it was the little bit of alcohol in your system, or perhaps it was the sudden rush of realizing that Yoongi is strangely attractive when he swears, but the laugh that exits your mouth sounds a touch too crazed for your liking. Either that, or perhaps you’re finally dying from the pollution.

Luckily for the both of you, it seems that Yoongi likes your weird laugh just as much as you like his. He tries to hide a smile before continuing, “Like, come on! I’m sorry for saying that because attacks on physical appearance is always a low blow, but why the fuck does that dude look like he’s been compressed and flattened on Photoshop? He’s got perpetual flat-face syndrome. You could -  you could land a damn plane on his face or some shit.”

The cork inside of your bursts, and you let out the most ungodly guffaw in your life. You don’t even have the time to be embarrassed by how loud your howls are, not when every word he says hits the mark a little bit too close to home. There’s nothing quite as pleasing than sharing mutual dislike for the same person, and it fills you with the utmost glee that Yoongi is no exception to that rule.

“Oh god… You’re right. You are absolutely right. I seriously can’t believe anyone can put up with him. I mean, the damned bastard couldn’t even remember my name until two weeks ago,” you say, shaking your head in disgust. The first few times he had forgotten, you had been gracious enough to laugh away his mistakes as little more than that: mistakes. But when five years pass and peanuts-for-a-brain still hasn’t deemed that remembering your name to be as important as when the “next big Game™” is, then it’s easy to understand the depth of your resentment towards your manager.

“Are you for real?” Yoongi asks, brows raised in shock. “How could anyone ever forget you – I mean, shit, uh,” Yoongi coughs suddenly, red-faced. You tilt your head in confusion, waiting for him to finish. He’s still kind of spluttering when he continues, “What I meant to say is… H-how could anyone forget their employees name after working here for so long?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I have no idea. Honestly, I think he’s trying to purposefully forget everything I tell him. One time, he had asked me what plans I had for Christmas, and I mentioned to him how I was going to be visiting my parents back home, and he has the gall to ask what country I’m from. Like???” Your face contorts as if you had eaten an entire lemon, so wracked with disbelief that Yoongi can see the hypothetical question marks floating above your head. “Bitch, do I look foreign to that bastard? I’ve lived here all my life!”

Yoongi hums, thoughtful. “Your parents live just an hour away from here, right?”

“I… Yeah, they do,” you reply. You eye Yoongi curiously, watching his all-too familiar flush resurfacing on his neck once more. “Wait… How do you know that?”

“You… You were talking about them, once. To Seulgi? Yea, you were, um…” Yoongi coughs unassuredly, rubbing the back of his neck. A nervous tick of his, you suppose. “It was a year ago? Something about visiting them during the weekend… Not that I was eavesdropping on purpose! I would never, er, do that…”

You don’t even register his embarrassment as you are mostly shell shocked that he had even remembered that little tidbit from over a year ago. Hell, you didn’t even remember going to your parent’s house until he mentioned it. “No it’s fine, I get it. I’m just surprised that you even bothered to remember that.”

Now it’s his turn to look at you strangely. “Of course I remember. Why wouldn’t I?”

You stare at him in disbelief. Fluttering of wings begin to erupt in your stomach, but you hardly have the peace of mind to fully grasp why you were even feeling so flustered in the first place. It was just that he had said it so… matter-of-fact, like there was no possible way he could’ve forgotten even if he tried. It was kind of disconcerting, but flattering all the same. But more importantly--

“Wait, you’ve been working at the company since last year? How have I never seen you before this month?!”

“Oh,” Yoongi coughs out a laugh, scratching the end of his nose. He turns his gaze away, looking anywhere but you. “I was just, umm… Really quiet? I don’t really talk to anyone unless I need to. I’m more of a listener.”

“Oh my God, now I feel even more terrible for not knowing your name! I must look like an egotistic bitch to you,” you despair lowly, cupping your face into your hands in shame. You feel another pair of cold hands clasp your wrists, and you watch in shock as he pulls your palms away with a determined expression.

“What? Of course not. You are definitely not an egotistic bitch, Y/N. In fact, you’re the complete opposite,” Yoongi whispers, so quiet that you might have imagined it. He grasps your hands tightly, like he’s desperate for you to believe him.

You stammer in embarrassment, staring wide-eyed at Yoongi as you try to regrasp your comprehension skills. It’s especially hard to concentrate with how close Yoongi is to you, the latter unaware of his own proximity. He had stepped closer towards you to hold your hand, and normally you hated it when people touched you without permission, but somehow… This was alright.

(Unbeknownst to you, this will not be the first time that Yoongi becomes your secret little exception. It’s only the first of many.)

“I-I don’t really know what to say?” Your gaze is locked on his firm grip on your hands, the only thing flitting through your mind: damn, this dude’s hands really are fucking freezing!

It takes another few seconds for Yoongi to calm down, and you know when it happens because the realization of what he had said makes itself apparent on his expression. He turns beet red in a second, stepping away from you with his arms flying off of you like those inflatable tube men outside car dealerships.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, taking two steps away from you. You almost take two steps forward to keep the distance closer, but you have a feeling that he would keep walking away from you until you both inevitably fall off the balcony, so you smartly choose to stay away (even if it pains you to do so). You wait for his breathing to settle, all the while still reeling from his blatant confession just moments ago.

Could you even consider it a confession? Were you being delulu, or is there some sort of connection that you and Yoongi were both feeling?

“Yoongi, it’s fine! Really,” you smile wryly, raising your hands towards him open-faced, much like how you would do when approaching an agitated animal. Like a nervous kitty, you think privately to yourself. “I’m really flattered that you feel so… strongly?”

“I’m… I’m really not like this normally. Honest,” Yoongi says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I… I never… do that. Whatever that was. Umm.”

Because you’re a freak of nature and enjoy exacerbating awkward social interactions, you decide to respond to him like this: “No worries, I’m flattered, honest! But hey, maybe next time you try to give me a compliment, you could look me in the eye?” You know, like an asshole. Who points out people’s social anxieties like that? You bitch!

On cue, Yoongi’s cheeks bloom into cherry blossoms once more. “I––I, I didn’t mean to––uh!” he stammers.

“No, no, I’m sorry for even saying that!” You apologize profusely, bowing so low that he could probably see the top of your spine. “I didn’t mean to tease you like that! I’m sorry! That was seriously out of line!”

What a pair the two of you were… Like two trains crashing into each other at mach speed, continuously and eternally. A constant and ongoing catastrophe!

(The little gremlin living inside your brain is knocking at your empty skull, whispering deviously, “But doesn’t that make the two of you the perfect pair?”)

When he doesn’t respond back immediately, you have to wrack up enough courage to look back at him. You gasp audibly when you do, and you have to forcibly grip the insides of your bicep to keep yourself from squealing in pure anguish.

Because there, right before your very eyes, is a blushing Min Yoongi looking you straight in the eye with his face squished between his hands, as if he’s forcibly keeping his head locked in place. His pupils are noticeably shaking and his brows are furrowed in concentration, but he’s looking at you. Like you asked.

He’s… He’s too…

“Okay, let me try this again.” Yoongi takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what may be the most embarrassing thing he has ever done in his life. “Y… You’re a great person, Y/N. I hope you know that,” he whispers, voice trailing off by the end of his sentence.

He’s dry heaving like he’s just finished a marathon, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. You’re worried if he even remembers how to blink with how intensely he’s staring you down, but you can’t bring yourself to ask him when your heart is quite literally beating out of your chest like a cartoon character from the 80’s.

“I…” You’re at a loss of words. If Min Yoongi can capture you like this with just a look, then think of how much more powerful he would be if he just learned how to use it. You’re slipping into real dangerous waters, and you don’t know if you’re just a frog in boiling water or if this is where you were meant to be all along.

“Yoongi, I didn’t mean for you to… force yourself like that, really…”

The moment breaks, finally, when Yoongi begins to cry.

“Shit!” you both exclaim, but for two different reasons. “Are you okay? Oh my god!” you reach out for him, not even thinking when you cup his cheeks in your hands. He gently pushes you away with one hand, while the other goes to scrub at his tears.

“Yes, I’m fine! A piece of dust got caught in my eye and I was too slow to blink it away,” he explains, still wiping at his cheeks. He pulls his mask down to his chin, pouting cutely at you. “Sorry. I’m not used to looking people in the eye yet. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Oh my god. At this point, you’d be surprised if your heart was located anywhere near your body. You were running purely on autopilot, so enamored by the boy in front of you that you could almost faint. He was entirely too unreal, unbelievably so. Perhaps, if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to find your heart again, and you know the first place where you’d look.

“Give it back,” you mumble, and Yoongi tilts his head at you in confusion.

“Sorry? Did you say something?”

“Nothing,” you reply, reaching over him and snapping his mask back on his face. You laugh as he splutters in surprise, floundering about overdramatically as if the elastic on the mask had done any damage to him at all. “Oh, stop it. You’re just being silly now.”

“Hey, I have delicate skin! You never know,” he jokes, but stops when you give him an unimpressed look.

“Sorry,” he laughs again. “And well, since I keep saying sorry today, and you look like you could use a little warming up, do you wanna leave this place and get some coffee? My treat.”

And really, who were you to say no to that?

And really, who were you to say no to Min Yoongi?

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his thoughtfulness quietly. It would go something like this:

A steaming hot coffee cup from the nearby cafe manifests itself on your desk one Monday morning. In your sleep-deprived haze, you had originally failed to realize that there was a hand connected to that cup and that it hadn’t actually just materialized from thin air like you had thought. After much blinking and staring, you crane your head up to see Jesus standing in front of you, his glasses still fogged from the outside chill.

“I got you a drink. I hope I remembered your order right,” Yoongi says in lieu of a greeting, a small smile gracing his lips as he watches you lethargically reach over for the cup to lift the lid open. His grin widens when he sees your eyes light up at the sight of little marshmallows bobbing up and down in your hot chocolate, bits of whipped cream already melting away from the heat. When you take a sip, you breathe a content sigh, your eyelids fluttering shut.

“Yoongi, I’m going to kiss your feet right now and you can’t stop me,” you say, upper lip lined with cream and sugar. Yoongi’s hand twitches by his side, but he doesn’t move.

“Even if I have toe fungus?”

“Especially if you have toe fungus,” you say, downing as much hot chocolate down your throat without choking and barfing all over him.

From the rim of your cup, you can see that Yoongi still has his parka on, his signature black mask pulled down his chin indicating that he’s only just arrived at the office. It makes your heart jump a little, knowing that he went straight to you first before anyone else that day.

“I still don’t understand how you hate coffee. Like, I don’t think I’d be able to be conversing with you right now if I didn’t have caffeine running through my veins,” he says, staring at you(r lips) as you chew a marshmallow thoughtfully.

You want to tell him that Yoongi doesn’t talk a lot anyway in the first place, though you have begun to notice that he’s becoming more talkative the more you hang out with him. However, you aren’t quite sure if you’re imagining it, but it seems like Yoongi’s change in personality doesn’t really apply when he’s with anyone else. On the days where you’d pass by his cubicle on the way to the water coolers, he’d still have his usual stoic expression on his face as he goes through his paperwork with the grace of a robot. When he’s with you, however…

“Says the guy who’s started drinking frappes after I suggested them to you. Don’t lie to me, Min Yoongi.” You’re giggling softly, and you can tell Yoongi’s seams are already breaking. Pink gums and straight teeth are seconds away from peaking through. You wink cheekily at him.  “You’re just as sweet as your personality is.”

“Stop, that’s so embarrassing!” he exclaims, hiding behind his hands. He’s already smiling. “I’m not as sweet as you think! I’m a mean guy!”

“Yoongi, you literally just bought me hot chocolate with marshmallows because you remembered what I like. I don’t think there’s a mean bone in your body,” you retort, rolling your eyes at the prominent pout on his face.

“Not true! I stole an extra coupon booklet when I was at the grocery store the other day.”

“Ooooh, I do love a bad boy,” you say, but the two of you are already laughing hysterically. “Seriously, thanks. I really needed this today.”

“Dang, bad morning already?” he winces, having noticed the purple moons under your eyes when he had approached you. He didn’t want to mention it without you bringing it up first, but he had been worried about you since last Friday when you had left the workplace with a slammed door.

“Try bad weekend. Mr. Lee has been pushing my buttons for months now, but I seriously didn’t think he thought it was a challenge. He’s been giving me shitty filing jobs to complete like I’m some overworked intern!”

Yoongi cocks his head, confused. “Aren’t you, like… In the advertising department? Why would he make you file things?”

“Exactly!” You’re all but roaring now, but Yoongi can’t help smirking at the stray dollop of whipped cream that had somehow found its way on your nose. He pulls his sleeve over his wrist, swiping it away with the fabric as nonchalantly as possible (which is to say, he’s as red as a spanked ass when he does it.)

You don’t even notice his actions, still deep in the abyss of your rage. “And also! My shitty phone ran out of storage space the other day so I’ve had to delete all the songs on my library and I can’t find any good playlists on Spotify to help me dissociate on the train!”

“Wow, that’s a mood,” Yoongi says, chuckling. He clears his throat, an idea popping into his head. He turns bashful all of a sudden, gaze diverting upwards as he musters the courage to say, “I-I mean, I think I can help you with that last problem, if you want…”

You stop huffing and puffing long enough to appear intrigued. “Oh? Are you gonna send me a playlist?”

Yoongi splutters. “I mean! If you want it, I do have some songs that I like listening to.”

Yoongi squeaks when you smile at that, radiant and all-encompassing. He wonders how he’s not dead right now.

“Oh god, that would be great actually! Text me the link, would you?” you say, already making grabby hands for his phone. “Here, lemme put my phone number in your phone.”

Yoongi almost drops his phone as he takes it out of his pocket, staring in awe as he watches you type in your number into his phone. He has to keep himself from outright howling when he sees you place a sunflower emoji beside your name. How fitting, he thinks to himself.

When you return the phone back to him, he immediately texts you the link to his playlist. You have to keep yourself from screaming to the heavens when you see the very Yoongi-esque title, “Songs for the Sleepless,” complete with the grainy-noir-film-type playlist art to complete the look. It was just so… personal, so Yoongi, and it’s making you clench organs that you didn’t know were clenchable.

You whistle at the sheer number of songs on the playlist, with the first song being—“Didn’t peg you as a Lana Del Rey fan,” you pipe up, scrolling through his playlist with acute interest. “Kendrick Lamar and Epik High, I understand. But Lana?”

To his credit, the playlist did seem like it had a narrative of sorts, despite the eclectic range of artists and genres. You only recognize maybe ten of the songs from his five hundred song playlist, and you’re very curious to see what type of songs he connects to.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he shrugs his shoulders, though a little bit embarrassed. “Lana Del Rey could sing my obituary and I’d jump out of my grave in an instant.”

“Bit morbid but okay,” you laugh, finger ready to close your music player app when you catch sight of a song with an artist you didn’t expect to see. You reach over to tug on his sleeve, your sly smile already causing Yoongi to break out in hives. “Hey… I didn’t know you shared your name with a singer, unless, of course…”

Yoongi doesn’t even let you finish your sentence when he yelps in surprise, snatching your phone out of your grip as his eyes bug out of his sockets. His ears redden, words tumbling out of his mouth like a waterfall as he tries to explain himself despite your raucous giggling.

“I––You weren’t supposed to––I forgot about! That was––I was just––Ugh,” he groans despairingly, smacking himself in the forehead with your phone. You’re still giggling madly, enjoying the spectacle before you as Yoongi’s ears are practically shooting out steam.

“You’re so cute.” It slips out of your mouth with such ease that you almost don’t notice saying it at all; you’re still smiling dreamily at Yoongi as he stares at you in shock, mouth still agape from his earlier rambling. You gasp loudly when your brain cells finally catch up, but by then it’s already too late. Now, the two of you were a matching pair, with your fire engine red ears standing at attention.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I just said that,” you mutter into your hands. You wish the earth would swallow you whole right now.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you just said that,” Yoongi wails beside you, but you don’t notice the small satisfied smile he’s sporting on his reddened face. “Y-You can’t just say things and not expect me to…”

You look up, wondering why he’d suddenly trailed off at the end. “Expect you to what?”

Yoongi, once again, defies the laws of the universe by somehow turning even redder than humanly possible. “N-nothing. Ignore me. Let’s just admit we’re both embarrassing and carry on, can we?”

“Sure,” you agree, nodding enthusiastically. “But, does that mean I can listen to your songs, Mister Min ‘I’m-a-superstar-singer-in-my-spare-time’ Yoongi?”

“I’m not a superstar! I just record songs in my free time, that’s all,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Says the guy who apparently raps as a hobby! Seriously, I can tell I’m gonna love it already.”

His gaze is turned upwards, cheeks puffed up in embarrassment. He looks like he wants to say something else, however, and you wait for him as he tries to gather the courage to say what else is on his mind. “S-say, I was wondering… Since I’m already here and all, do you want to maybe go out wi—”

“Yo! Hyung!”

A deep voice from across the office floor snaps the two of you out of your little bubble in an instant. It doesn’t take a genius to tell who it is, not when there’s only one person in the entire company who would dare wear a sushi-print tie to work at one of the most lucrative companies in the country.

Kim Namjoon hobbles over to your little cubicle space in all his sushi-print tie glory, knocking over a coworker’s potted plant in the process. Between you and Yoongi, you had been more surprised by Namjoon’s sudden exclamation, mostly because you’d never been particularly close with the eccentric man. Yoongi probably can’t say the same since he had briefly mentioned that he and Namjoon go way back, though you’re starting to have some doubts about that due to the dirty glare Yoongi was currently pointing at the sentient noodles-for-legs.

Namjoon waves cheerily at you before cutting to the chase as he envelops Yoongi in a not-too-gentle hug. “Hyung! I’ve been looking for you. You weren’t at your desk this morning so I was wondering where you’d wandered off, but of course I’d find you here at Y/N’s de––”

Yoongi promptly stomps on Namjoon’s feet, causing the younger to yelp out in pain. “Namjoon. I told you I’d talk to you later.” Yoongi smiles sweetly, but you can see the aura of danger radiating off of him in waves. “Emphasis on later.”

Namjoon pouts petulantly, but he doesn’t look all that offended. “I was just gonna remind you to ask Y/N if she wanted to join us for lunch la––OUCH! WILL YOU STOP STEPPING ON MY FEET!”

Yoongi appears unbothered, not even looking back at Namjoon’s shouts of betrayal. All the while, he still has his gaze trained on you, never wavering for one second.

“Please ignore my colleague. He can a bit… Unnecessarily loud,” Yoongi says, accompanied by Namjoon’s splutters of indignation.

“Umm?? I’m right here?? Your actual best friend?? Geez!” Namjoon huffs, looking at the both of you incredulously. You just shrug your shoulders, completely dumbfounded by the last five minutes of human interaction.

“As Namjoon was saying before we were so rudely interrupted… I was going to ask if you wanted to have lunch with me? Namjoon can join too, but only if he behaves,” Yoongi jokes, smirking at Namjoon’s ireful glares.

You giggle quietly at the unlikely pair, amused beyond belief at this new side of Yoongi that you hadn’t been aware of. So this is how he is with his friends… Cocky Yoongi is definitely someone you wouldn’t mind talking to occasionally, you admit.

“Sure, I’d love to. Just let me finish all this filing crap for Mr. Lee, then I’ll head over to your desk at around 12?” If you work at a breakneck pace, then you could probably finish sooner if you didn’t let anything else distract you. “Oh! And I should probably return your umbrella before you leave. I keep forgetting to give it back to you.”

“No worries,” Yoongi says. “You should keep the umbrella. I’ve got a spare anyway.”

Namjoon’s head whips toward Yoongi at that, staring at him skeptically. “Dude. Ain’t that your favorite Kumamon umbrella though? Didn’t you almost murder me that one time I forgot it at the McDonald’s last mo––WILL YOU STOP STEPPING ON MY FEET! I’M GONNA GET FLATFOOT SYNDROME!”

“Not my problem,” Yoongi replies, pinching Namjoon’s nose for good measure. He turns to you, waving goodbye. “See you in a few?”

You stretch your back, psyching yourself up to get back to work. “Right. I’ll text you when I’m done okay? See you at 12-ish!”

The boys make their leave, bickering all the while. You catch wind of a bit of their conversation as they turn the corner, their voices echoing down the hall.

“Hey, I noticed that you were looking Y/N in the eye when you were speaking. Why don’t you ever look me in the eye when we talk!”

Yoongi snorts, flipping him off. “It’s because you’re not as nice to look at. Simple as that.”

In your seat, you smile secretly to yourself, butterflies erupting in your chest. Filled with newly found fervor, you chip away at the pile of work on your desk until it starts to vanish from view.

Before you know it, you’re off to see Yoongi once more.

x x x x x 

There is a boy you know who likes to show his vulnerability quietly. It would go something like this:

x x x x x 

There is a boy you know who likes to show his love quietly. It would go something like this:

Your day begins with a phone call: a warning. Your boss tells you to come into work as soon as possible, not a note of enthusiasm or friendliness in his tone. He ends the call just as abruptly as it had come, the silence following soon after deafening your ears. Your heart races marathons in your chest, and your brain goes to the worst place it can go.

Your hands are sweating gallons upon gallons as you shrug your coat on, fumbling with your keys as you struggle to place them in your pocket. For a brief moment, you think about calling Yoongi for moral support, but think better of it. You don’t want to bother anyone, especially not him.

You, the lone ranger, walk out of your apartment and into the murky urban outdoors, the first pitter-patters of rain making their descent the moment your foot meets the pavement. You don’t have quite the energy to go back inside to grab your umbrella, not when you’re unsure if you’ll be courageous enough to leave your bedroom once more if you did.

You’d always been a coward, a soft-hearted fool. Content with shouldering the consequences of your actions without another word: a sufferer in silence. For the past few weeks, you thought you might have changed. You’d been smiling a lot more, laughing a lot more. Your cheeks were often more red than any other color these days, and it was all thanks to a boy you know.

He was shy, but brave. Quiet, but talkative. Mysterious, but vulnerable.

He made you realize that there was no need to settle for one side of a coin, not when you could have both. The longer you stuck around him, the stronger your desire was to become… more.

You wanted to be open; you wanted to be known. You wanted to be able to ask for what you want, and never feel the crushing sense of guilt that usually came afterwards. You wanted to be unapologetic, wanted to keep your hands open, waiting for good things to come your way. To never cower in the face of a gift being handed to you. You wanted to have all that life has to offer––

(Him. Him. Him.)

But there is something pitiful about being unable to keep your own promises. The embarrassment of returning to the state where you once were, of turning meek at the first sign of adversity. The dreams of a happier life drifts away from you like mist under the morning sun, and the pressing weight of the world once again makes its home on your shoulders.

And so, you do not cry when your boss tells you to pack up your things within the hour.

You do not cry when you cut your finger on the corner of your desk that had never been replaced during your five-year stay at this company.

You do not cry when one of your potted plants smash to the floor when you try to carry too many things at once.

You do not cry when co-workers you’d only barely spoken to come over to your desk with showers of condolences, as if you’d already died.

You do not cry when Kim Namjoon walks over to you, quietly bending down to help you carry your boxes down to the lobby.

And when all is said and done, you most especially do not cry when Min Yoongi runs to you with his lungs burning in his chest, glasses still fogged up from the morning cold outside. His hair is in disarray and his shirt is on backwards, as if he’d jumped out of bed the moment he knew something was wrong. When he skids to a halt right in front of you, the pain etched on his face is as plain as day.

Wordlessly, he takes the last box out of your hands, placing his car keys on top when he can’t hold onto them both. His eyes flit towards your clenched fists for a second, but looks away the moment you notice. Instead, he walks out to the elevator, and you follow soon after.

You do not cry when Min Yoongi helps you load his car with your things. You do not cry when he takes a first-aid kit out of his glovebox and puts a band-aid on your finger. You do not cry when he offers to pass by the local home depot to pick up a new plant when he notices yours is gone. You do not cry when he doesn’t treat you like your life has ended.

(But you feel it. Pricking along your eyes like a dam about to break. He is doing this to you. He’s making you feel again, and it fucking hurts.)

And so, he drives you home.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Yoongi starts after a while, tapping a rhythm away on his steering wheel as he waits for the morning rush traffic to subside. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, worried when you don’t respond. You keep your head pressed against the cool car window, staring blankly at the gray skyline.

“I… I hope you don’t mind if I play you something. Just… Just listen to it, okay?”

You don’t see him, but you hear his fingers switch their tapping to his phone as he unlocks it, searching for the song he wants you to hear. It takes a moment or two for him to find it, soft curses tumbling from his lips as he goes through his Google Drive for the unfinished draft that he hadn’t meant to show you until it was complete, but well––

You were always an exception to him, weren’t you?

The first notes come creeping up from behind you, and it reminds you of the way Yoongi would speak to you. All soft whispers and gummy smiles, like he’s restraining himself. Slowly but surely, the music grows louder, more confident with its sound. You can picture Yoongi standing upright, hand outstretched towards you as he asks you to follow him.

The song is unfamiliar, but there’s something about it that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand at attention. You’re trying to go through your memories, sorting through the hundreds of songs that Yoongi has made you listen to but none of them seem to ring a bell. You’re still trying to figure out if you’d heard this before when the lyrics finally start.

“Lost in the sea of my regrets, you became my polaris.”

Yoongi’s voice comes from the radio speaker, jolting you from your seat. Your spine straightens, and you stare bullets at Yoongi’s phone as the song continues to play. When you look towards him, Yoongi’s face is a statue; the only thing giving away the fact that he was with you at all was the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“The shadows, which had been my haven, no longer feel as good as they once did. You, my light, have changed all of that.”

You gasp, and Yoongi’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. It seems like the two of you stop moving at that moment, neither of you daring to breathe. Even the outside traffic sounds muted compared to the sound of your hearts hammering inside your chests.

“I’ve long since forgotten to pray, but I will remember for you. I only dream of happiness for you, my morning light, my northern star. And I’d give it all up for you.”

Yoongi notices your tears fall before you even do; he’s quick to fluster, scrambling through his car side door for a tissue to hand to you, but he stops the moment he feels your hand fist the elbow of his sleeve. He turns to look at you, all blotchy and tear-stained, but beautiful all the same. And even through your tears, you smile just as radiantly as when he had first seen you.

“Thank you,” you mouth, fingers trembling as you fight to keep more tears from falling, but nothing can stop a dam from breaking. Not when you’re sitting beside the hurricane who broke it in the first place; it was the boy with feelings that never did quite fit in his body the way other people’s did.

Luckily, they fit right in with you.

When the song comes to the end, you’re sniffling up a storm, but you still haven’t let go of him. When you’re only a few minutes away from your apartment, Yoongi parks a little bit far off from your doorstep, so you have to walk the rest of the way home. But you’re still unwilling to let go, not yet.

Gently, Yoongi pries your hand away from his sleeve and you’re about to protest, but the words die on your lips the moment they form when Yoongi rubs his hands along the side of his slacks before placing them in yours. His hands are still cold, but comforting all the same.

“Let me walk you home?” he whispers.

You nod. Of course, you want to say. But he knows what you mean, anyway.

When he goes to unpack your things from the trunk, you shake your head, stopping him from moving any further. “I… I don’t feel like sorting through those things right now. Is it fine with you if I just… Go home for now? Please?” Your brain feels like lead in your skull after all the bottled up tears had finally escaped from years of constant pressure, and you don’t think you’re quite ready to go through all those emotions again. You feel deflated, but better. He always makes you feel better.

Yoongi closes the trunk, locking his car before stretching out his hands for you. You stare at the proffered hand for a moment.

“Oh, right.” Yoongi goes to rub his hands to warm them, but you stop him once more in his ministrations. He looks at you, confused, as you grab his hand from him. You rub circles into his palm, staring at the ground in embarrassment.

“You’re always warming your hands for me… So this time, I’ll warm them for you, okay?”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything in response to that. Instead, he tugs you along towards the sidewalk and keeps you close to him. As he walks with you, you notice the way he leans slightly to the left, like he’s drawn to you––like he can’t help be more than an inch further from you.

You keep glancing back down at your linked hands; he’s shaking, but then again, that could also be you.

You arrive at the gate of your apartment quicker than you would have liked. Neither of you move to separate; when you look back at Yoongi, you see that his eyes are trained on you. He doesn’t even flinch away like he used to. His lips are pursed, like he wants to say something but he’s still too afraid to.

So you say it for him instead.

“Do you have… somewhere to be?” Unlike you, he still has a job. He still has commitments. He still has a life outside of you. You’re hit with fear, once again, at the sudden change in your circumstances.

You might never get to see him again. Is this where your paths cross, never to intersect again? Your stomach drops at the thought, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“No, I don’t. I could…” Yoongi trails off, glancing at your apartment with soft hesitance. “If… If you want me to…”

Yes. Please. I’d love it. I love yo–– ”Yes. Stay with me?” you mumble.

“Always,” he promises.

The pair of you trudge up to your apartment, passing by the prying eyes of housewives with your heads bowed in embarrassment. They don’t miss your pinkies linked behind your backs, nor the subtle blushes on the apples of your cheeks. Thankfully, they don’t comment when Yoongi enters your apartment after you, but they do giggle when his coat gets caught on the door handle in his rush.

When the two of you are finally alone, the air isn’t as awkward as you had feared. You work like two cogs in a machine; he readies your TV and scrolls through your Netflix for a movie, while you go to your kitchen and have a small mental breakdown (while also microwaving some popcorn). Soon, the two of you are snuggled into your small couch, elbows barely brushing against each other.

You’re only half paying attention to the generic action movie that Yoongi had put on; you were still deep in your thoughts. You’re picking away at your hangnail, worrying your lip as you try to enjoy what might be the last time you’ll ever get to hang out with Yoongi again. You’re so deep in your musings that you don’t immediately feel when Yoongi wraps his arms around your shoulder, nestling your head into his chest.

“W… What?” You crane your head and stare at Yoongi in shock, but he’s already returned his attention back to the movie. His cheeks are burning.

You’re still stiff with tension despite his comforting caresses against your hair, so he changes tactics and brings your hand up to his.

You think he’s just going to hold your hand, but he keeps bringing your hand up until it gently caresses his face. Just as you’re about to ask him what he’s doing, he curls your fingers until only your pointer is left unfurled, and casually uses it to poke himself in the cheek.

He leaves it there for a second or two, and when you finally turn to face him, he’s smiling so sweetly at you that you almost feel compelled to cry again. His eyes and nose are all scrunched up, rose petal gums on full display. Your finger is still pressed gently into his soft cheeks.

“You said you liked to dream about poking my bread cheeks. Well, here’s your chance,” he says, like it’s nothing at all. As if what he has done was as simple as breathing.

Yoongi’s smile brightens when he feels your form relax against him, giggling softly when you go to pinch his cheek for good measure.

“Bread cheekies,” you say, like you’re in a trance.

Yoongi nods. “Bread cheekies,” he repeats. “And it’s all yours.”

There’s a promise in there, you know. Somehow, he had sensed your worry and had thought of the perfect way to calm you. Like always, he never has to say it. He’s never needed words, anyway.

The two of you stay like that for hours. The sun sets as surely as the moon rises, and Min Yoongi stays with you through the night. When your mind drifts off and only your steady breathing fills the room, Min Yoongi brushes a small kiss against your forehead.

“Dream of happiness, my love,” he whispers into your skin, just when he thinks you’re asleep, “I’ll dream of you, too.”

It’s a promise that he keeps.

There is a boy you know who never learned how to say he loves you, but it never mattered all that much to you––not when he’s willing to show you over and over again. It goes something like this––

[the-witty-pen-name]

Dive Bar

Bucky x F!Reader 

Prompt: “Call me / her that again, and you will find my steel somewhere uncomfortable”

Warnings: drinking, harassment, violence, cursing 

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Thank you so much to @everyhowlmarksthedead for the suggestion! I loved this prompt and this was so fun to write!!

If anyone thinks I should write a part 2 to this, let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in! 

My tag list and requests are both open!

Thank you all so much for reading!!

There was a hole in the wall dive bar Bucky would frequent. He’d been dragged all over New York by Sam now that it was just them and he hated every place Sam would force him to go except this bar. It was a place that besides his apartment, Bucky found comfortable. For the most part it was a relatively relaxed atmosphere and even though he couldn’t get drunk, it was one of his favorite places to go. Sam went with him a few times, but for the most part Bucky went on his own. He liked having a place that was like his go-to. He’d been working on collecting a lot of his own regular places- coffee shop, news stand, bar… It was helping him find some sense of stability in recent times.

It was a little busier in the bar than normal, probably because there was a football on tonight. It still wasn’t too much, he enjoyed just nursing a beer and sitting in a rounded booth in the back just people watching or just enjoying the atmosphere. All the employees knew him by now, and he was comfortable taking off his jacket and gloves. He’s sure everyone knew who he was just by the arm alone, but he appreciated that people here didn’t normally bother him. The only people who have approached him, hadn’t recognized him and ask if he served in the military. He’d smile and say he did, and they’d thank him for his service.

Since it was a busier night, Bucky noticed they had two people who usually bartended were brought in to run drinks and take orders while two other people were bartending. Almost every seat at the bar was taken, and all of the booths were filled. Couples filled the three high top tables that were on top of the small makeshift dance floor, obviously extra tables brought in to accommodate for the busy night. Most of the people there were very preoccupied by the tv behind the bar, expect for the two servers who were running back and forth from the bar with trays of drinks.

“How you doing Bucky?” You ask with a grin as you walk by, balancing a tray of tall drafts and a pitcher. You bring the tray to the booth right next to his and then return to briefly chat with him. You knew him pretty well as you were usually the bartender on the nights he comes by. Bucky hadn’t admitted to himself yet, but you were one of the main reasons he kept coming back. He most definitely was developing a crush on you.

“Hey (Y/N),” he smiled looking up at you returning your grin. “Much better now,” he said playfully, feeling relaxed just seeing you. “How’s your night going?” He asks.

“Busy,” you chuckle, gesturing to the atmosphere, “Great night for tips though.”

“Yeah, definitely,” he agreed.

“You’re surprisingly sober,” you comment with a smirk, as you grab the several empty bottles in front of him.

“Oh…,” He says awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “I can’t get drunk.”

“So, you drink beer for the taste? Weird,” you laugh. It makes him smile, and the nervousness that had risen subsides again.

“You don’t like beer?” He asks.

“I like the affects of it,” you joke, “I wouldn’t choose to drink it for the taste alone. But that’s just me. I don’t judge you, Buck.”

He opens his mouth to respond but you are pulled away from him by a loud voice rudely trying to get your attention. A guy a few booths down has an empty glass and his refill is clearly the most important thing to ever happen. You roll your eyes playfully and Bucky laughs before you head over to deal with the rude customer.

The night continues on and as the game ends, people stagger out. There’re a few stragglers at the bar and the high tops have been moved so some couples can sway to some slow songs playing on the jukebox. Bucky has moved from his seat at a booth to the bar now that your fellow coworkers have left for the night and you’ve taken over as bartender. The night is definitely coming to an end and the atmosphere has become much more mellow.

You were cleaning off the counters behind the bar, getting a head start on cleaning up for the night, as Bucky just watched you intently. The place had mellowed out to a comfortable silence despite the few people that you knew would linger until you ushered them out.

Bucky was thinking back to one of the first times he came here with Sam and how immediately Sam was able to pick up Bucky’s interest in you. Sam had teased him when Bucky would fumble over his words when you would talk to him. Sam would insist Bucky hurry up and ask you out before someone else would. At the time, he hadn’t felt ready to open himself up to someone else. He wanted to take some time for himself. How could he even possibly think of bringing someone else into this equation before taking care of himself first? It wouldn’t be fair to either person in that equation. But now, it finally felt like he was ready. He knew now he was ready to let someone in, but now his fear he battled with was the possibility of rejection.

Now, with the calmness of the night and the low, romantic song playing from the jukebox as the last two couples sway to the music, it started to feel like it could be the right moment. Maybe Sam was right, and he waited to long to say something. Fear of rejection made him also worried about not being able to ever show his face here again. He asks you out, you say no, and then suddenly one of his places he loses forever. He loses seeing you and he loses this place where he can allow himself to just… be. He wasn’t ready to open himself up to new bars or new spots, he found comfort in these little things as ridiculous as he knew he was being.

“You hanging around for a while?” you ask, snapping him out of his thoughts. You leaned on the bar, leaning in close to him so he was the only one to hear you. He caught the worry in your voice and he saw the way your eyes were widened slightly.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts and day dreams he hadn’t noticed another man sitting at the bar who was making you clearly uncomfortable. The man absolutely reeked from the amount of alcohol he consumed. You hadn’t been working the bar when he first arrived and you’re mad at your coworkers for not cutting him off sooner. He had been making you uneasy most of the night, and now his stares were becoming more obvious the drunker he becomes, and his comments becoming more and more crass.

“Yeah, of course,” Bucky said comfortingly. You sigh relieved, feeling safe with the promise Bucky would be there at the end of the night. You smile showing your appreciation, and tilt your head discreetly to just let him know the man at the end of the bar was the source of your discomfort. Bucky takes a look at him and immediately able to sum him up.

“I’ll stay and walk you to your car,” he offers without you needing to ask, and touches your hand in a comforting way. You sigh relieved.

“Thank you so much, Buck,” you say with a sigh, immediately feeling a little better. You smile at him and his heart just completely skips a beat. You check the time and you just had to make it through another 15 minutes before you get to go home. You start putting the liquors away and just continuing to lock up.

“Honey, what are you doing wasting your pretty self with a guy like that,” the guy said obnoxiously, slurring his words, “Can’t expect a man with one arm to be able to satisfy a woman.” You rolled your eyes and ignored him, while Bucky’s jaw tightened and his flesh hand made a fist on the bar. You shoot a sympathizing look to Bucky silently apologizing for having to put up with this and silently asking him to not take his words to heart. “If you gave me a chance, I could show you how a real man uses both his hands,” he slurs. He clearly was too drunk to recognize Bucky and you look at Bucky again, and the man looks like he’s one more comment away from killing this guy. “Fucking bitch,” the guy spits, reaching over the bar to grab your arm and force you to face him, “You know it’s rude to ignore people when they speak to you, sweetheart,” he continues, the atmosphere Bucky had been enjoying has entirely vanished and the air hangs heavy at his words.

Before you could even process anything, Bucky had the guy pushed against the wall with his metal arm holding his throat in a chokehold and his flash hand punching the guy in the stomach. You gasp and back away, the sting of his grip still hurting your arm.

“Call her that again, and you will find my steel somewhere uncomfortable,” Bucky says as he lets the guy go and lets him collapse on the floor. The guy gasps for air, and scurries out of the bar as fast as he could, not even able to stand up properly yet- not wanting to stick around to see if Bucky was a man of his word.

You stare back at Bucky in silence for a moment, as he tries to calm his breathing. You cross your arms over your chest, cowering- not at Bucky but just how you small you felt from the man’s words and forceful grip. You see the painting from the wall is tilted from how aggressively Bucky pushed him. You were breathless and still in shock of what just happened.

“Are you okay, doll?” he asks, walking behind the bar and gently looking at your arm.

“I’m so sorry you had to put up with that,” you whisper, unable to meet his eye yet. “But thank you,” you say looking up to meet his gaze. “I don’t even want to think about if you hadn’t been here.”

“As long as you’re okay that’s all I care about,” he says, his eyes scanning yours.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say with a soft chuckle, “Kind of shaken up but I’ll be fine.”

You both didn’t say much as you closed up, Bucky giving you a hand and bringing the extra tables back to storage. Then you both worked together to put all the chairs on top of the bar’s few permanent tables. He offered to sweep up for you while you took the cash from the register to the safe and grabbed your jacket from the back. Then he walked you to your car just as he promised.

The night air outside was incredibly cold, and you walked with your hands buried deep in the pockets of your coat. Your car was the only one left in the lot because Bucky walked like he usually did. “Well, this is me,” you joke awkwardly when the two of you reach your car. You turn to look up at him. “Again, Bucky,” you say a little breathless from the cold air, “Thank you so much.”

“It was nothing I mean…,” he says, blushing, rubbing the back of his neck again, nervously.

“Can I give you a ride home?” You ask, “It’s the least I can do.”

“You don’t have to, doll,” he mumbles shyly, like he wasn’t the same man who just knocked a creep onto the floor for you. “I only live a couple blocks that way.”

“Coffee tomorrow maybe?” You offer with a smile as an alternative. “There’s like this place I go all the time that’s right near here- the one with the green awnings.”

“I go there every day,” he beams excitedly.

“Me too,” you grin stupidly, “I guess we go at different times.”

“I’m always up really early,” he shrugs. It’s more accurate to say that he never is able to fall back asleep.

“I’m always sleeping in working nights,” you admit, pulling your keys out of your pocket.

There’s a quiet moment, exchanged between the two of you. The awkwardness arises because neither of you actually want to bid your goodbyes or want the moment to end. Bucky desperately wishes he could take back his rejection of your offer for a ride home so he could spend more time with you and wouldn’t have to wait hours before seeing you again tomorrow.

“Oh,” you say, suddenly, your voice echoing through the night’s still silence. “I should give you my number.”

Bucky feels like he might fall over. He nods pulling his phone out of his pocket and unlocking it for you. He hands it over to you and he tries to ignores the butterflies when your fingers graze his own when you take the phone. You smile, biting your lip slightly as you type away, the glow from the screen lighting up your face in the darkness. He was longing to just kiss you. But the thought is fleeting when you hand his phone back to him. After everything that happened tonight, he thought of you first and how he just wanted you to feel comfortable.

“Well, um,” you say with a shy smile, “I guess I should head home. Are you sure about not needing a ride…?”

“Um,” he starts, wanting desperately to change his answer to spend more time with you. He decides against it, even though he can’t give a reason as to why except his own nervousness. “Yeah, I’m sure,” he smiles.

“Call me tomorrow?” you ask, unlocking your car and he nods.

“Absolutely,” he says with a shy grin. You smile once more and then get in your car. Bucky gives you a short wave before walking towards the direction of his apartment building. As he walks, he stares at his phone with your contact open. He knows it’s outdated, but he still memorizes your number until he knows it by heart.

He gets back to his apartment and hangs his coat on the hook, dropping his keys in the bowl and kicking his shoes off at the door. Alpine stirs from the cat bed that was in the living room and begins to affectionately rub at Bucky’s legs. He scoops up the cat, scratching behind the ears and holding them close to his chest. He takes a seat on his couch, Alpine snuggling into a ball on his lap. Bucky stares at his phone, and he wonders if you made it home safely.

Is it too clingy to call? Or should he text you? He despises texting. There are so many unspoken rules that he didn’t understand and it often got him into trouble. Why did he have to respond to texts that don’t have a question but are shown as read? He hated the guess work that went along with it and he would be too worried to mess anything up with you. It wouldn’t be weird to see if you got home safe, surely, considering everything that happened. Or maybe he could call Sam? No. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Alpine picked up on his stress and purred comfortingly. Bucky let out a sigh and looked at the clock on his tv box. Under normal circumstances he’d never think about calling someone so early in the morning. Actually, it was the first time in years he had someone to call. And you said call, not text, he remembers distinctly. His mind is racing with thoughts of you.

“Fuck it,” he mutters, pressing the call button before he chickens out again. The line rings and his breathing is quick, the poor man was a nervous wreck.

“I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon,” your voice on the other end immediately calming him down. “Miss me already?”

“Yeah,” he says with a chuckle, being able to hear your smile over the phone. “I really do.”

Taglist:

@blackirisposts​

[spenciegoob]

Unfolded (Request)

A/N: hey hey hey... I’m gonna be honest this was super hard for me to write I absolutely hate the idea of being outed/outing someone, but I just channeled that anger into writing how much of a douche reader’s ex is... so enjoy and THANK U FOR THE REQUEST I LOVE GETTING REQUESTS I LOVE YOU <3

Summary: When an ex comes back to reveal a secret about Reader to Spencer, Reader prays it’s not the final straw in their relationship. (Requested) 

Pairing: Spencer x Gender Neutral Ace!Reader

Category: Angst/fluff

Content Warnings: being outed, acephobia, bad break up, coming out

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.4K

____

When I agreed to go out with the team for drinks after a rather gruesome case, I didn’t also agree to hiding out in the bathroom while a particularly awful ex ruined my brand new relationship.

Doctor Spencer Reid wasn’t quite like anyone else the world had to offer. He was brilliant in a way that made other people jealous, and while his mind was filled with statistics and the hard facts of the universe, his heart was soft. Spencer was kind, laying a blanket of serenity across the people he came in contact with, and I was lucky enough to be gifted his love.

Spencer Reid was mine, and in turn, I was his.

But that also meant that along the way to finding him, there had been some mistakes. I gave my heart to people who didn’t deserve it, watched from the sidelines as they smashed it to bits all because I was “a freak,” “weird.”

“Different.” I was once called different like it didn’t hurt as much as the others, but it did. The man who said those horrible things to me as he stormed out of my apartment as if I did something wrong was out there, sitting at the bar, telling my lover just how different I am.

“Hey, if you don’t want to go out, we can go back home and watch a movie. I’ll let you pick this time,” Spencer whispered in my ear as we approached the doors of the bar that held our friends. I couldn’t help but smile at the simple gesture. Spencer cared.

“As tempting as making you watch A Clockwork Orange again is, we’re already here. Let’s just have a good time.” I laughed along with him as he held the door open for me, the smell of cigarettes and booze immediately overwhelming my senses.

“You sure do have a weird taste in movies.” We deposited our coats on the backs of chairs to reserve our spots at the table with our friends before moving through sweaty bodies to the bar.

I ordered my usual rum and coke, and a water for Spencer knowing he wouldn’t be drinking tonight. As I went to continue our conversation from earlier however, a voice I wish I could forget came from behind me.

“Isn’t this a sight for sore eyes.” John, a man not worth the time or energy it takes to deal with his immaturity. The kind of man who only wants one thing, and wreaks havoc when he doesn’t get it.

“Hi, John.” I would’ve said more, but what could I have possibly said? It’s good to see you? It’s not, and I’m not lying to boost the man’s ego.

Spencer must have felt the discomfort practically screaming out at anyone who looked at the interaction between me and my ex, because he came to stand next to me, the height added from me sitting on the bar stool enough for Spencer to rest his arm around my shoulder.

“I didn’t expect to see you here. It never really was your kind of scene.” You didn’t know me at all, John.

“Yeah, well, uh, I’m... my friends-”

“I’m Spencer, and you are?” Oh thank god.

“John. One of (Y/N)’s exes.” I want to slap that god damn stupid smile right off his face and watch the way he- “You’re Spencer, the coworker, right?”

“Boyfriend, actually.” He said it with such pride, happiness about the 9 letter word evident in his tone that I couldn’t help but rest my head on his shoulder with a small smile of my own.

“Oh, wow. I guess you know then, right?” My blood ran cold. No, no no no this can’t be happening. Not now, not ever.

I have to get out of here.

“What?” Spencer asked. He looked down at me with pure confusion before returning his attention back to John. Rookie mistake.

“I’ll be right back.” It was stupid of me, I know. I got up and left Spencer all alone with no defenses against the army that was John’s condescending tone, but I couldn’t stay there. I knew what was coming, and I knew I couldn’t stop it.

So I ran, crashing into drunk 20 something year olds and bodies grinding on the dance floor until I reached the bathroom. By the time I made it inside, the music dulled so I could hear my own thoughts, I was already hyperventilating.

I don’t know how long I stayed in there when there was a knock at the door. All I know was that my eyes were red and puffy, and whoever was at the door would just have to wait.

“(Y/N)? It’s me, Spencer.” I didn’t reply, just held my breath hoping that he believed I was somewhere else. Where the hell else could I go?

“Can you open the door? Please?” No part of me wanted to face the man on the other side of the door. I knew what was waiting for me.

Disgust, and anger for lying to him for so long, for roping Spencer into a relationship without sharing a key component of myself as if I could keep it a secret for so long.

What did I expect in two months from now when Spencer wanted to take the next step? Was I just going to run and hide the way I did tonight? It was stupid, and cruel, and-

“Come on, let’s go watch A Clockwork Orange again.” Spencer Reid knew how to get my feet moving. I didn’t care how crazy I must look right now. If tonight was the last night I’ll be able to love him, what’s the point of trying to hide my distress?

But when I opened the door and fully expected Spencer to be red in the face, eyebrows furrowed over raging eyes, I was surprised to find a very different expression.

There he was, with that soft, awkward smile that made him look like the most adorable frog, handing me my coat like everything was right in the world.

I guess it was, because there he was, just being so authentically Spencer Reid.

“Let’s go home.” One obstacle: out of the way.

No matter how hard Spencer tried, the ride home was still awkwardly silent with the exception of the soft, classical music coming from the radio. I could feel the way my restless leg shook the car at stop lights, but he had the decency to pretend my anxious tendencies weren't so vicious.

It didn’t stop him from asking. “Are you okay?”

“What did he say to you?” I questioned right back. I wanted to know, needed to know, because if John’s sick smile wasn’t indicator enough, Spencer Reid just listened to my ex air out my dirty laundry.

“It’s not important what he said to me. I will wait an eternity for you to be ready to tell me. Now answer me, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think I am.” And it was the truth. I was okay, because Spencer wasn’t like John, he wasn’t like any other man, really.

Spencer Reid was gentle, pulling my flower from the ground with careful hands to make sure my roots came with it instead of selfishly breaking my stem, and watching me wither.

I knew he would never let me wither away, not alone at least.

“I’m asexual.” Spencer was silent for a moment, not taking his eyes off the road, until finally, after enough time for my leg to start bouncing again had passed, he spoke.

“Okay.” It was so authentically Spencer Reid, yet, I couldn’t stop my shocked expression. 

“You- you’re not... mad?” At this point, Spencer had reached our apartment and as he was parking, he slammed the breaks harder than necessary, jolting me forward. I don’t know if he was trying to knock the thought out of my head, or if I finally struck a nerve, but he turned to look at me like I was preposterous.

“Why would I ever be mad about that? I’m not in this relationship expecting you to, uh, you know. You’re you, and that’s more than enough.” I didn’t realize I was crying until he reached over to brush away a tear with his thumb.

“I love you so much, and that includes everything about you.”

“I love you too, Spencer.” And it was the truth. I was so deeply in love with him that everything else in the world seemed so dull.

“A Clockwork Orange?” Spencer Reid knew just the thing to get me smiling again.

___

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[lovelylogans]

puppy love

roger: do you want another cup of marriage? anita: excuse me? roger: tea? another cup of tea? anita: you said marriage. roger: uh, marriage? anita: yes, that’s what you said. i—i mean, you meant to say tea... but it—it came out marriage. roger: oh, i’m sorry. uh—do you want another cup of... tea?

—101 dalmatians

warnings: misbehaving dog, misunderstanding that might cause secondhand embarrassment, please let me know if i’ve missed any!

pairing: virgil/logan, offscreen patton/janus

word count: 2,732

notes: this is for day four of @analogicalweek! the prompt of the day is “alternate universe” and i have decided to write a "i think my dog likes your dog” au, based off the introduction of anita and roger in 101 dalmatians! please enjoy!

⁂

Logan would have named his dog Tesla if the name had not already become popular due to the brand and if he did not have a deep-seated dislike of Elon Musk, but as it has, and as he does, his dog’s name is Nikola instead. He had finally given in and adopted her after his brother, Patton, had been wheedling him to adopt or foster one of the animals for years from the shelter he serves as veterinarian.

Nikola is a very intelligent dog. In the two-and-a-half years he has had her since she was a puppy, he has taught her a variety of tricks—the usual things, like sit, shake, stay, but also more unusual tricks like fetching him water bottles or tissues or any number of things that she knows the name of and is within her reach. She is a mix of two intelligent breeds—rottweiler and German shepherd—and as such learning and practicing tricks helps keep her from being bored. 

She has a surplus of enrichment toys. She never rips up shoes or furniture. She keeps an obedient trot at his side on hikes and runs ahead if he tells her to. She waits after he throws something for her to fetch until he says to run, and she has learned to sit before they cross the street. She is a very well-trained dog. 

Which is why it is so surprising when, as soon as he crouches to unleash her at the dog park they go to on Sundays, weather permitting, she snatches his baseball cap meant to keep the spring sun out of his eyes, and goes running off as if he has told her to fetch a tennis ball.

“Nikola!” He calls, out of being startled more than anything, before he starts to jog after her.

Nikola runs, just a black-and-brown streak of fur with the navy blue of his cap clamped between her teeth, and Logan is really quite fortunate that he spends most Saturdays, weather permitting, hiking, and weekday mornings on jogs besides. This habit has kept him in shape, however, it has also contributed to keeping Nikola in shape, and as such she is a very fast and athletic dog. He wonders briefly if he’ll catch her before he makes too much a fool of himself.

But just as suddenly as she’d started running, she stops at one of the benches installed around the dog park, dropping his cap on the bench and then immediately moving to the dog sitting beside her owner, Nikola wagging her tail and panting and looking quite pleased with herself, with eyes only for the other dog. The other dog, all black excepting the white splotch on her chest, looks at Nikola curiously, but does not crouch in a playful posture or otherwise react.

“Nikola, really,” he scolds, picking up his cap and jamming it back on his head. Then he looks to the man sitting on the bench with the dog that Nikola now seems enamored with, intent on apologizing for disturbing him or his dog, but his mouth goes dry almost immediately.

The man with the dog sitting calmly at his side is very handsome. 

He’s brown-skinned and black-haired—he’s Latino, Logan thinks—and in the middle of reading a book. Logan isn’t sure what book, based on the way his hands are placed, his long, elegant fingers covering the title. He’s also listening to music, as evidenced by the white wireless earbuds placed in his ears.

It’s likely that Nikola’s tomfoolery hasn’t disturbed him at all. The man only gives Logan a look—his eyes, which are a stunning shade of brown so dark they’re practically black—and returns his attention to his novel.

Logan clears his throat awkwardly, jams his cap back on his head, and turns to Nikola, who is still trotting around them, seeming very pleased with herself, wagging her tail, looking every inch a pompous showdog.

Sometime in the middle of watching Nikola, the exceptionally handsome man has closed his book and stood up, and Logan tries his best not to pay him any mind as he walks away.

“Helena, come,” he says, with a deep, lovely voice that hits Logan somewhere in the sternum. He has an accent—Spanish, maybe? Portuguese? Logan isn’t very familiar with romantic languages outside of English, other than the Latin he took throughout high school and college. Nikola is still looking very excited, but the black dog—Helena—stands and follows after the man.

“Nikola, really,” he repeats weakly, and crouches before her, gathering her leash in hand and preparing to let her loose so they can, perhaps, play a game of fetch, or something that does not involve Logan running after her like a madman.

But of course not. Whatever mood Nikola’s in persists, as she suddenly pulls forward, forcing Logan to get up off the ground lest he be dragged in her wake, and he really does not want to be dragged along the ground at the dog park, so he does, scrambling after her and trying to regain his balance.

He doesn’t notice she’s looping her leash around the man’s knees until it’s too late.

Which brings him to notice that she is also backtracking to loop around his knees.

He cannot help but notice when Nikola pulls tight and it brings Logan and the man colliding forcefully, chest-to-chest.

“Oh!” The man grunts. His chest is warm and broad. Logan would quite like to curl up under a nearby rock and never come out and also, if Nikola understood human terms, she would be so grounded. As it is he is absolutely revoking treats for her behavior today, even if the man is now putting a hand on Logan’s shoulder and it radiates warmth through his shirt.

“I beg your pardon,” Logan splutters, “I’m so sorry, please excuse me, I’ve no idea what’s gotten into her—”

At the same time, the man is saying “What the hell, oh my God, what—” and trying to push them apart, Logan stumbling with it.

Which makes the man stumble, which makes Logan stumble a little more, and very suddenly, they’re overbalancing, and Logan lands on top of him, the man wheezing as his back meets the ground, surely knocking the wind out of him. Even with that, he puts a hand at Logan’s waist to keep him from falling off of him into the dirt.

“I’m so sorry,” Logan gasps, and looks over—Nikola and Helena are side by side, Helena still haughty, Nikola still seeming very self-congratulatory.

“Nikola, bad girl,” he scolds. She doesn’t even have the decency to look chastened. “I swear she’s never like this, I really am so sorry—”

Logan manages to loosen the leash from around their knees and rolls off the man, apologizing all the while.

The man manages to sit up, eyes wide, and promptly Helena comes trotting over to him, leaning heavily into his side. 

“Uh, that’s,” the man coughs, “that’s okay. It—it wasn’t your fault. Um.”

He threads his fingers throughout Helena’s long fur, and Logan whistles sharply. Nikola at least has the good sense to return to his side.

“I am very sorry,” he repeats and stands, offering a hand to the man. The man hesitates before he releases Helena and takes it, allowing Logan to pull him to his feet.

Logan picks up the book—oh, he’s handsome and he has good taste, too, he’s reading On Beauty by Zaydie Smith, of course he had to go and look like an absolute buffoon in front of him—and holding it out for him.

The man takes his book back, eyes wide, before he looks to the dogs.

And then, of all the things to do, he starts to laugh.

Logan looks, too, and he feels his face crack into a grin.

Nikola is wagging her tail eagerly, staring at Helena, and Helena, at last, seems to look back at her. Her tail, almost grudgingly, starts to wag, too.

“I think your dog has a crush on my dog,” the man says, amused.

“I can’t deny that observation,” Logan admits. Sure, Nikola will play with other dogs, but she’s never been so sweet to another dog before. Even if he is irritated with her for running off, he can’t quite hold onto his sense of annoyance as Nikola makes doe-eyes at Helena.

“Like a regular Romeo,” the man says, then makes a face. “No, scratch that. Um—”

“She’d be a Juliet, regardless,” Logan interrupts.

He relaxes his shoulders. “Good. Romeo’s overused.”

He catches Logan’s confused eye, and explains, “My brother’s name is Roman. He crushes on people a lot. It was an easy joke growing up.”

“Ah,” Logan says, waits a beat, before he says, “It’s odd I know your dog’s name and your brother’s name before I know yours?”

“I have another brother named Remus,” he offers. “And, now that you know my family tree except me, I’m Virgil.”

“Well, I have a brother named Patton, and a brother-in-law named Janus,” Logan says. “I’m Logan.”

Virgil’s brow crinkles up. “Not Janus Ophidian?”

“The same,” Logan says.

“Small world,” Virgil says thoughtfully. “He’s a pain in my ass.”

He immediately blushes, as if he did not mean to say that, but Logan laughs before he can stop himself. Virgil blushes deeper.

“Uh, sorry,” Virgil says. “Sorry, he’s your—”

“No, you’re quite right,” Logan says affably. “He is a pain in the ass, he’d be proud to hear you say it. How do you know him?”

“Coworkers, of a sort,” Virgil says.

“So you’re a lawyer?” Logan says curiously.

“No,” Virgil says. “He’s in immigration law, right?”

“Correct.”

“I’m a translator,” Virgil says. “They hire me on retainer, sometimes, for clients who speak Spanish or Portuguese and not as much English. Or Catalan, or Aromanian, or Asturian, but those are way less common.”

“Interesting,” Logan says. “You’re a polyglot?”

“Six languages fluently, and three enough to make conversation,” Virgil says, then, “Aw, look at that.”

Nikola is nosing at Helena, and, after waiting a moment, Helena noses her back, their muzzles pressing together in a facsimile of a kiss.

“Well,” Logan says, unsure of what to really say to that, because it really is quite adorable. Then, “I suppose they’d like to spend time together. Would you like to sit back down on the bench to talk?”

Virgil smiles at him, more a quirk of his mouth than anything, and Logan’s heart flutters in his chest.

Please be single, please be single, he prays to no one in particular as they sit down together.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Virgil asks, ensuring that he has marked the page (his bookmark advertises for a small, local independent bookshop) and closing it, setting it aside.

“Oh,” Logan says, then, because his actual job title is quite long and unwieldy, he says, “I’m an astrochemist.”

“An astrochemist,” Virgil repeats, sounding intrigued. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that. What do you do all day?”

Logan brightens. “Well,” he begins, and off he goes.

He knows he can be something of a rambler, especially when it comes to topics he’s passionate about, and especially when it comes to astrochemistry, a combination of his two most favorite scientific disciplines of study. It only takes someone five minutes of listening to him ramble to discover he’s passionate about his work and the discoveries they make.

But he can’t help it. It’s the best thing in the universe, what he gets to do—use radio telescopes to detect the electromagnetic radiation that’s given off by objects in space, establishing what substances are in space and in what quantities, which can potentially come to tell the story of how the universe was made. 

He gestures frequently with his hands, his voice rising in volume as he talks about the significance of his work, the knowledge he’s helped discover, the theories they have. He sweeps a wide, expansive gesture to the sky, and points in the approximate direction of the various planets and stars of study. All the while, Helena and Nikola move to chase each other in circles, and all the while, Virgil alternates between watching the dogs with a soft look, and then looking back to Logan with genuine interest shining in his eyes, along with something Logan can’t quite name—well, he did just meet this man, he supposes that isn’t unreasonable.

Whatever the look is, though, it increases the excitement of lecturing about something he loves to someone who wants to learn, something in his stomach fluttering, his heart beating loud in his ears.

He’s about to start explaining the use use theoretical models as well as computer visualizations to help them explain their observations in terms of known physical and chemical principles, and how it helps them study the origins of extraterrestrial bodies and the chemical processes that have shaped their present forms when he stops, abruptly aware of how long he has been talking.

“Goodness,” Logan says, suddenly shy, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I’m so sorry, I’ve just talked away a good portion of your afternoon. Um. That’s the—that’s the sum of what I do on a daily basis. Which is what you asked.”

Virgil has that same quirk to his mouth as before, and that look in his eyes that had made Logan so eager in the first place.

“I don’t mind,” he says, and scratches at the back of his neck. “Um, I don’t drink coffee, ‘cause I have anxiety—Helena’s my emotional support dog, actually—”

Her stillness and calmness at the start of the whole debacle makes sense, then.

“—but, um. There’s a café nearby with outdoor seating, would you wanna maybe go... get a cup of marriage?”

Logan blinks at him, mouth agape.

“Excuse me?” He manages to squeak out.

Virgil blinks right back.

“Tea?” He clarifies, as if he was unsure if Logan heard him over the sound of other dogs and humans in the park. Goodness, there’s other dogs and people in the park, when did that happen? When did it get so crowded? “Would you want to maybe go get a cup of tea?”

“You,” Logan says, certain that his face is flaming red. “You said marriage.”

Virgil blushes then. He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, and at last he says, “Marriage?”

“Yes,” Logan says. “You—you said marriage. I mean, you meant to say tea, but it—it came out marriage.”

Virgil’s brow furrows. He thinks for a few moments. Then it seems to click, and he buries his face into his hands.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” Virgil groans. “It was nice to meet you and you’re very attractive and also you were so excited about your work so I have started liking you in a friendly way but also in a I’d like to date you way but I just proposed marriage barely an hour after we met, so I’m going to go fling myself into the creek so I never have to see you again, I can’t believe I said that.”

Helena has untangled herself from Nikola and is currently butting up against Virgil’s shins, seemingly in an attempt to get him to calm down.

“No! No,” Logan says hastily. “No. Oh, please don’t do that, um. Tea sounds great. Tea sounds lovely. I also think you’re very attractive and like you in both a friendly and romantic sense!”

Virgil peeks out from between his fingers. “Really?”

“Really,” Logan promises. “In fact, would you like to go get a cup of tea with me? Right now? As a date?”

Virgil grins at him weakly. “I guess a date sounds more reasonable than marriage right off the bat, doesn’t it?”

Logan smiles back at him, as encouragingly as he can. “It does. I’d like to go on a date with you.”

Virgil’s grin strengthens. “Great! Okay. Okay. Um—follow me, then?”

They both pause to leash their dogs, sharing a bashful smile with each other, and Logan follows Virgil and Helena to the gate of the dog park.

Nikola’s strange sense of mischief has worn off; she’s trotting obediently at his side again. To think, he’d thought Nikola had just caused all this trouble for nothing, and now he’s going on a date with a handsome, intelligent man. 

He sneaks her a treat as they exit the park, on the way to the café just down the street.

⁂

logan’s dog, nikola virgil’s dog, helena

[leighistired]

Out Loud

A Martin character study AO3 Link

“G’night mum, love you.”

“Make sure you put the trash out, don’t want it stinking up the house.”

At 12 it occurs to Martin, he can’t recall the last time his mother said “I love you” to him. She must have. He knows she loves him, so why can’t he remember her saying it? Was it before dad left? It can’t have been that long ago. He knows if he brings it up she’ll just tell him off for being silly so he just decides to not say it unless she says it first. She doesn’t say it.

“Look how nice our neighbor’s garden is,” she says instead. “If only we could have such a nice garden.”

“The neighbors hire a man-” Martin tries to explain. He had just done law maintenance over the weekend; he would have to bring up memory issues next time they saw a doctor.

“Aren’t you happy with how I provide for you?” She snaps. “Ever since your lousy father left us I have done my best even with my health and all you can talk about is getting a bloody gardener.”

“Sorry, mum,” he says. It’s better not to argue when she gets like this.

“Forget it. Just get me my tea.”

He goes and brews her a cup of Oolong tea. It’s far too bitter for his tastes but it’s all he buys when he does the shopping. Perhaps that was it, instead of saying she loved him she just provided for him.

Martin tells himself that until she gets too sick to work and begins needling him to get a job at 14. Suddenly he’s providing for her on top of school and everything else but that didn’t mean she didn’t love him. She was just sick and the medication she was on made her tired most of the time so it wasn’t like he could expect her to be excited to see him; especially not when he’s the one bringing it to her.

“Is soup the only thing you buy?” She asks one evening when he brings her dinner.

“You didn’t have soup last night,” he reminds her patiently after a long day of school and work.

“Oh, so you think I’m ungrateful? I am your mother! I gave birth to you! You should be happy to take care of me!”

“It would be nice if you acted like a mum for once!” Martin snaps back. He regrets it as soon as he says it and doesn’t wait to hear her response. He leaves the house and sits in the park near his house for a long time and cries. Of course she loves him. It must be so hard on her to be stuck at home all day with no one to talk to and there he went snapping at her. She’s asleep by the time he comes home and neither of them mentions it in the morning.

Martin doesn’t know what he expects when he starts to transition. He hadn’t even called it a transition at first, he just likes how he looks with short hair, baggy clothes, and a sports bra. His mother disagrees. There are days she won’t even look at him and when she does it’s usually even worse.

“You cut your hair again,” she mentions one morning over breakfast. “Just when you were starting to look like a girl.”

“Yup,” Martin replies tight-lipped. He had been thinking it over for a while and he’s slowly coming to terms with the fact that he isn’t a girl. The way she says it hits him sharply. If she was never going to say “I love you” to a daughter, why would she say it to a son? He doesn’t bother coming out to her properly because he can already see the disgust on her face when he gets a proper binder.

When she decides to move into a full-time care facility, it’s almost a relief. He feels foolish for expecting her to say it when she leaves. He feels even more foolish when he says it in goodbye. The receptionist gives him a sympathetic look when she doesn’t say it back but the receptionist probably assumes his mother has memory issues and forgot who he was. She doesn’t. Still, he appreciates the gesture.

Dating is nearly impossible for most of his life. It’s easiest to blame his busy schedule; he doesn’t even have time for friends outside of school. The fact that no one even asks him out isn’t something he wants to think about. After he drops out of school and his mother leaves, dating and friendship don’t get any easier. He can’t let anyone he works with get close enough or they’ll find out his real age and utter lack of qualifications. Online dating is also out of the question for similar reasons. If one of his coworkers saw him with the age 19 in his profile they would either know he wasn’t actually 25 or they would think he was a creep and he didn’t exactly feel comfortable lying about his age to potential dates. Meeting people organically isn’t the worst thing in the world but it’s difficult. He makes a few passing friends at a local trans support group but even then, he can’t get close to anyone without risking someone discovering his falsified CV.

He doesn’t have his first real boyfriend until he’s 23 years old. They meet at a Holloween party thrown by a mutual acquaintance and date for almost five months before Martin ruins it.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dominick, I love you,” Martin says as he serves dinner.

“Oh, uh, it’s a little fast to say that, don’t you think?” Dominick had stammered awkwardly. Was it? It didn’t seem like it to Martin and even if it was, it was true. He loved Dominick.

“I-I don’t think so,” Martin replies nervously. Some distant part of himself starts to berate him for being so needy.

“It kind of is. Let’s just pretend you never said it and we’ll see how we feel in a few more months, ok?”

“You mean we’ll see how you feel,” Martin says a little bitterly.

“Why can’t you just relax and enjoy the holiday?”

Martin had sighed in resignation and picked at the rest of his plate. They broke up a week later because Dominick felt like they were “looking for different things.”

Martin doesn’t have another serious boyfriend after that. He goes on a few more dates over the years but nothing that lasts longer than five months. Nothing that lasts long enough to say “I love you.” In some deep dark part of him, he wonders if he was ever meant for love. His father hadn’t loved him enough to stay, his mother hadn’t said she loved him in over a decade, and he’s not even sure he was in love with Dominick. He gets crushes, sure, but he just throws himself into his work at the Magnus Institute instead.

Working in the library isn’t bad. He gets along with his coworkers well enough but he can never get close to them. Not close enough to love them as friends or be loved in return.

Then he gets transferred to the Archives.

Jonathan Sims is not the first asshole boss Martin has ever had. He doesn’t understand why Mr. Bouchard sent him down to work in the Archive in the first place and his first impression with his new boss is less than stellar when a dog follows him into the building. It doesn’t help that Jon is good-looking and every once in a while Martin catches glimpses of a version of the Archivist without a stick up his ass. Like when he spends Martin’s ice cream birthday talking about emulsifiers. If only he would be clearer about what he actually wants from Martin. No report or follow-up seems to be good enough, even with the help of Tim and Sasha.

Martin works hard for Jon’s approval. He doesn’t know why he wants the recognition but it’s either this or quit and he really, really can’t quit. So he spends three full days looking for every woman named Angela over fifty in Bexley only to be berated for actually talking to one of them and then he offers to look into a case about spiders that clearly upsets Jon only to get trapped in his flat by a zombie worm woman.

When he finally escapes, he takes a few worm corpses with him and he dumps them on Jon’s desk while he’s in the middle of a statement. Let Jon try and disprove that When he gives his own statement he makes special emphasis on reminding Jon how hard he worked to meet his exacting standards. He refuses to be yelled at for this.

Except Jon believes him. More than believes him, in fact. He offers Martin a place to stay. Of course that would be enough to ignite a crush in Martin.

As soon as they get to document storage Martin sits on the cot and begins to cry with exhaustion. He expects Jon to leave but again he surprises him.

“I-it’s alright, Martin,” he says awkwardly as he pats Martin’s shoulder. “You’ll be safe here and I’m certain Elias will respond promptly to my request for extra security.”

“Thanks,” Martin sniffs. He can’t remember the last time he cried in front of another person.

“Would...would you like me to stay until you fall asleep? If- if you think it will help.”

“Oh, er...no...I’ll be fine, thank you. You should be getting home, anyway. It’s Saturday, Jon.”

Martin blacks out as soon as Jon shuts the door to document storage. When he wakes up he finds his crush on Jon stubbornly still in place.

He can’t help himself after that. He starts taking special care of Jon in hopes of encouraging the kind man he saw that night into emerging. At the very least Jon doesn’t yell at him as much and he even thanks Martin for the tea he brings. It’s then that he notices other things about Jon, like how rattled he gets by certain statements and how he’ll often go an entire day without eating or drinking anything unless someone brings him something. That someone being Martin. He also notices how late Jon leaves, if he leaves at all.

It’s on one such night of Jon still being in his office at 11 o’clock that Martin knocks on Jon’s office door.

“Jon?” He calls gently.

“Hzzmt! Martin?” Jon responds, having been startled awake from dozing at his desk. “You should be asleep.”

“And you should be home.”

“I see your point,” Jon sighs. “I’ll finish up here and head home. Unless you need something?”

“Actually….I-I was thinking,” Martin beings. “Since I sort of kicked you off your cot...D’you want to come back to document storage with me? You know, get some sleep?”

“What?”

“Er...forget I-”

“The cot would be rather cramped with both of us,” Jon warns as he gets up from his desk. “If...if you’re sure you want me to join you.”

“Yeah...I thought you had work to do?”

“It can wait until morning, no use keeping you up longer than necessary.”

Martin only half regrets offering to share a bed with his crush. Jon was right, the only way to fit both of them on the cot is for both of them to sleep on their sides (or for Jon to sleep on top of Martin but even the thought has his face burning) and it’s difficult for him to fall asleep with Jon’s back pressed against his. It’s good to hear Jon fall asleep, though, and as time wears on it’s easier for Martin to goad Jon away from work to sleep a few hours.

The more of himself Jon reveals the harder Martin falls for him. Especially after Jon accuses him of being a ghost during the Prentiss attack. Even with the guilt Martin feels every time he looks at Jon mummified in bandages. That was Martin’s fault. If he had just paid more attention then he wouldn’t have lost Jon and Tim in the tunnels. He does everything he can to try and make up for it; despite Jon becoming more and more closed off by the day. Intellectually, Martin knows that Jon has gotten like that with everyone, but something deep down makes Martin feel like it’s his fault Jon’s gotten so cold. It doesn’t help that Jon seems to have gotten friendly with the policewoman investigating the murder of the previous Archivist. Tim even seems to think they’re having an affair which does wonders for Martin’s self-esteem. Jon wouldn’t be the first straight man Martin has ever had a crush on but Martin was pretty sure Jon wasn’t straight. Again, he wonders if he’s done something wrong to push Jon away.

After Jon stumbles out of his office covered in blood claiming to have had an accident with a bread knife Martin finds all the excuse he needs to regularly drag Jon to the canteen to make sure he eats something. The silences during those lunches are hard. They had eaten together before but now Jon wasn’t talking to him. The most Martin could get out of him were a few one-word answers. He tries not to think about how it reminds him of his mum.

“So,” he tries for the millionth time while Jon picks at his sandwich. “Did I tell you what happened while you were at physical therapy the other day?”

Jon doesn’t say anything but he looks up with a gaze that bores into Martin.

“Uh...A little girl came in alone with a statement, she must’ve only been eight years old,” Martin says. Jon looks at him with an expression that almost seems afraid. “Don’t worry, it recorded fine on digital. She walked right down into the Archive, walked up to my desk, and said ‘Excuse me. My name is Beatrice Walker and I’d like to make a statement about a supernatural occurrence.’ She sounded so grown up and she refused to leave until I had recorded her statement. Turns out her dad was using the library for research and she had just wandered off.”

“What was her statement about?” Jon asks to Martin’s surprise.

“Oh, a hamster with mysteriously changing spots.”

“Ah,” Jon replies thoughtfully. “Not much need for follow-up there, I suppose.”

“Not unless you really need me to track down the shop where her parents picked up the new hamster.”

He catches the briefest of smirks from Jon before the conversation dies again.

After that Jon’s coldness and paranoia comes out in the form of a screaming accusation over letters Jon found in the trash. Martin barely manages to make it to the bathroom before he bursts into tears after coming clean about his CV. Tim thankfully doesn’t check on him while he silently curses his taste in men. Jon doesn’t meet his eye for the next week in what he bitterly hopes is guilt. He does seem slightly more willing to talk with Martin at lunch, though.

Then Jon goes missing. After trying to get Martin and Tim to go home early because Jon was feeling under the weather; he disappears. Not before apparently bludgeoning someone with a pipe and isn’t that exactly what he and Tim need to see as soon as they get back from a two-week kidnapping by a spooky door monster?

With Sasha gone, Jon missing, and Melanie King being suddenly hired by Elias, whatever’s left of Martin’s relationship with Tim deteriorates. More so when Martin becomes the only one in the world to believe Jon could be innocent. It’s probably that that makes the police detective “investigating” Jon so actively hostile toward him. Apparently, people say he and Jon are “close” and that probably only means the lunch thing but he wants to imagine it’s something more. Like people are somehow picking up that Jon likes him back.

When Jon comes back to confront Elias it’s all Martin can think to do to fall back on his tea-making. He ducks into Jon’s office with a piping cup of the overly sweet tea he spent months perfecting to Jon’s taste and finds him with his face buried in his one non-bandaged hand.

“Jon?” He calls as gently as he can while he closes the door behind him. “I brought you some tea.”

It’s when Jon looks up that Martin notices the bloody mess down the front of his shirt.

“You’re hurt. Let me go get the first aid-”

“No!” Jon interrupts frantically. “Just...Could you just stay with me for a moment?”

Martin acquiesces and they sit side by side on the sofa in Jon’s office in silence until Jon starts sniffling into his tea. He offers Jon a hug and Jon all but dives into his chest to cry. It’s the saddest most broken thing Martin has ever heard and it’s all he can do not to pull Jon into his lap and curl around him protectively.

“Martin...I-I...I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “For everything. For Sasha and Prentiss and...and for the way I treated you. You didn’t….no one deserves that.”

“None of that was your fault and I sort of deserved it. I didn’t actually know what I was doing.”

“You didn’t deserve it,” Jon insists before going back to quietly crying into Martin’s jumper. Martin doesn’t respond. He can’t recall the last time someone’s apologized to him. At least not like that. He’d been told off most of his life for not doing things up to people’s standards. A few people over the years had told him he didn’t deserve it but Jon was the first person to apologize. No wonder Martin was falling in love with him.

Damn it.

Cuddling doesn’t become a regular occurrence for them by any means but Jon begins doing more to seek Martin out after that. They eat lunch together more often and Martin stays up late to talk to Jon while he’s abroad. It drives home how deeply buried into Martin’s heart Jon has become. Especially after he comes back after going missing for a month and has the audacity to joke about being moisturized by a clown mannequin for a month.

He wonders if Jon feels the same way. Sometimes Jon will smile shyly at him, and he can almost believe that Jon would be interested in a relationship if the world wasn’t ending. The last time they speak before the Unknowing they’re in document storage.

“Are you ready?” Jon asks as he shifts nervously.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Martin signs. He heard what happened to Melanie. He knows what’s likely to happen to him. Some small part of him is screaming to just tell Jon his feelings like it’s the climax of an action movie.

“Stay safe,” Jon says.

“Come back,” Martin replies. Jon offers him a hug. It’s no movie kiss but it allows Martin to hold Jon as close as possible. Jon himself is hanging off of Martin’s neck and it feels like a final goodbye.

Then Elias confirms what Martin has always suspected deep down. That his mother never loved him or if there was a time when she did, she stopped when his father left. Even after everything. After he spent years taking care of her. After he had to quit school to care for her. All she ever saw was his father. All his transition did was to remind her further of how much he looked like his father’s son. At least it was worth it. To distract Elias so Melanie could find evidence to arrest him.

Then Peter Lukas shows up and reveals that Elias planned to get arrested. Worse than that, he offers Martin a promotion of sorts.

Then they get the news from Yarmouth. Tim’s body is found in a charred heap, Daisy is missing, and Jon is dead in all but brain activity. At least Basira is physically alive.

Martin spends as much time as he can next to Jon. He’s used to loving someone who can’t love him back. Maybe this is all he’s destined for. Love unrequited. He talks to Jon’s dreaming corpse. Tells him about his day, reads him poetry, even a statement, but nothing draws Jon out of his coma.

Then his mother dies. He barely has the emotional strength to mourn her. Instead, he scatters her ashes and mourns his childhood lost to trying impossibly to earn her love.

After the Flesh attacks, Martin makes a decision. He’ll join Lukas. It’ll probably lead to his death but what did that matter? His mother was gone and didn’t care about him anyway. Tim and Sasha were gone. Jon was basically gone. Basira and Melanie were the only people left that he vaguely cared about and by doing this he could at least protect them.

He visits Jon one last time in the hospital. He’s still covered in wires and his eyes still flit around violently behind his lids as Martin sits down next to him and takes his hand.

“Hey Jon,” he says quietly. “I...This is the last time I’m going to see you...Probably ever. I know, I know old dramatic Martin surely he’s exaggerating. I’m not. The Institute is in danger and...I have a way to keep Melanie and Basira a little safer, so I’m doing it. I just came by one last time to say...Jon, I...I love you. Goodbye.”

He gets up and presses a kiss on a part of Jon’s forehead not covered in wires before leaving. It’s alright that he doesn’t say it back. No one ever says it back to Martin.

When Jon wakes up everything becomes that much harder. Suddenly he had a reason to live and the way Jon pursues him makes him almost believe...No, even completing the thought would be dangerous for all of them. Jon trusts him enough not to be constantly badgering and that makes it worse. When Jon is there the Lonely makes Martin resent his presence and when Jon’s gone Martin resents his absence.

The final, most excruciating pain is when Jon comes after him in the Lonely. He’s excepted his fate in the chilling numbness of the Lonely. Maybe that’s why he says it. The certain, inevitable rejection would be numbed utterly. So he says it.

“I really loved you, you know?”

And Jon looks broken. Even after he rips Peter’s statement from him. Even when he reaches for Martin’s face with hands that seem far too warm and makes him See. Knowing Jon loves him isn’t like “knowing” his mother loves him. Instead of a lie born in Martin’s mind to stamp down the fear of rejection, it’s a reality pouring from Jon’s mind mingled with Jon’s fears of rejection.

Jon’s hands still feel too warm compared to the icy chill of the Lonely as he leads Martin out. Still, he refuses to let go all the way through the tunnels, the Institute, talking to Basira, packing at each other’s flats, and on to the train. The way to Daisy’s safe house feels like a blur and when they finally arrive it’s all Martin can do to remember to take off his binder before collapsing into bed with Jon’s warm arms around him.

He wakes to Jon’s quiet crying. The awful, stifled thing that breaks Martin’s heart.

“Jon,” he whispers.

“Martin? Did I wake you? I’m sorry, I’ll-”

“It’s alright, Jon,” he assures as he swaps their positions so Jon is tucked firmly against him. Jon makes another broken noise and Martin can’t stop himself from crying, too.

“I-I’m here, Martin. You aren’t on your own,” Jon soothes and Martin almost has to laugh. They lay crying and comforting each other until they both fall back asleep.

When they wake up properly they take stock of the safe house’s pantry and make a list of things to pick up in the village after breakfast. Martin gives in to the temptation to buy a new notebook to try and write poetry in. They have enough canned food to survive to the next ice age so they pick up perishable items like milk, bread, butter, and eggs. Jon also picks up fresh peaches and a box of Martin’s preferred tea. It’s easy to pretend like they going on a normal shopping trip as they walk up and down the aisles to check things off their list.

They return to the cabin and settle in. Martin sits on the sofa and tries to write out a poem while Jon tries to read a book from Daisy’s personal collection. After a while, Martin beings to feel Jon’s gaze on him.

“Is there something on my face?” He tries casually as he’s met with an expression he’s never been on the receiving end of.

“I was just thinking about how much I love you,” Jon sighs. Martin can’t stop the noise that comes out of him. All his life trying to earn love and Jon just says it while Martin’s thinking of a synonym for ‘yellow.’

“I-I don’t expect you to reciprocate,” Jon says quickly, his soft expression suddenly turning worried.

“But I do.”

“Oh…Oh!”

“Yeah.”

Jon starts giggling and it’s impossible for Martin not to follow suit until happy tears stream down both of their faces.

[adonis-koo]

Blue Spring

| 2 |

↳ Summary: Jeon Jungkook, only well known as the youngest (and hottest) dad at the daycare, he’s got it all, the looks, the sweetheart personality, the body, but here’s what gets everyone- he doesn’t wear a wedding ring. The only problem lies in his fickle one year old daughter that hates just about every daycare worker out there…Well…besides you that is. Which of course leads to Jungkook liking you just as much as his daughter…if not maybe a little too much.

Or in other words…You and Jungkook are secretly crushing on one another but too shy to admit it.

↳ Pairing: Single dad!Jungkook/Reader

↳ Genre: Daycare AU, Slice of life, copious amounts of fluff, a hair of angst, future smut

Word count: 4k

Previous | Next

“Oh my god, he asked you out?” Lisa gasped as she raised her brows, both shock and delight on her face as Chloe clapped her hands together. Pressing your hands to your cheeks you felt them flush as you glanced down at the kids table, everyone working on their finger paintings you had chosen as the creative activity for the day.

“I…” You nibbled against your lip before rubbing the back of your neck, “I wouldn’t necessarily call it that...He just um-! He just asked if we could hang out sometime with Mina...” They both groaned as you sunk in as best you could in the child's chair.

Chloe clacked her lips as she huffed, “Girl that’s his pathetic excuse to ask you out on a date. He just used his child to reel you in, and it worked didn’t it?” You crossed your arms, face still flushed despite your scoff.

Sure he might have added that in but you were sure if it came down to it you both would be fine without Mina there, right? Wait...you had no reason to be together if Mina wouldn’t be there...You swallowed thickly as you glanced at the table that had been covered in tarp to keep from getting messy, “...I would have said yes regardless…” It was the truth, you felt a certain amount of shame admitting that, was there a rule against dating one of your daycares dads? It had been well over a year since you signed on and you couldn’t even remember half the regulations and policies that pertained to workers, as it really didn’t matter when you actually began working.

Until now…

Mina had made a noise of complaint at your attention not being on her, her little fingers painted blue as she pointed at her splattered picture that looked more like a blob of color then anything else, you mustered a smile as you nodded, “Oh it looks so good Mina! Oh, can you add a little pink over here?” She had dipped her fingers into the yellow paint but she had spirit as she began to work on where you pointed.

“So you admit, you wanna bang him?” You scowled at Chloe as she held her hands up in defense, sure the kids had no clue what that meant but that didn’t mean you should just go around casually saying it!

Lisa puckered her lips before she and Chloe both started cackling, “Hey I’m not judging! If Seokjin wasn’t married i’d-”

“Shut up!” You covered your ears as you groaned, you could understand from an outside perspective, Jungkook was in your age range, he was obviously single given his passive comments about his...ex girlfriend? Ex wife? Partner? Not only that but he was insanely attractive, thick brows and fluffy dark hair, his jawline was both strong and sharp and his physic.

Jungkook had dropped her off one time for only a short few hours, picking her up after he had finished at the gym, where his hair was still damp with sweat and muscle bulging from his fitted shirt, your heart was ready to combust that day all while he kneeled down letting his little girl sit in his lap while inspecting her picture she had scribbled.

If one wasn’t interested in dating him they’d definitely want to sleep with him at least once. But this wasn’t your intention, no matter how much the idea made your body and face both warm to think about, “Guys, I’m not…! It’s not like that,” You lowered your voice as you sighed, clasping your hands on your lap as you glanced down at them, “I just wanna see where things go, and if things go well then awesome, and if not then no harm done…”

“Well babe you do you,” Lisa patted your shoulder, “I’m just glad Jisoo could cover for you so you can go out with lover boy when he picks up Mina,” Your face flushed once more as you sighed, choosing to ignore their laughs as you began to talk to Mina once more, even drawing a little heart on her paper with your own finger covered in pink paint to which she gurgled in excitement at.

Jisoo had eventually bounced through the door as she excitedly waved, “Hey guys,” You held your sigh at her brows wiggling your way as you all greeted her, taking a seat at the table as they immediately jumped into the gossip. Jisoo was the only other coworker filled in on all the juice besides your other two friends.

If any of the other workers heard, well...you’d rather not hear all of the older ladies' opinions.

You had a difficult time not flushing at the sight of Jungkook when he had came around two PM, Mina excited at his early arrival, “Hey babygirl,” He cooed softly at her as she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, picking her up he laughed softly, bouncing her a little before his eyes flickered on you, “Are you sure it’s okay to come?” He seemed concerned but also...excited? His eyes had a boyish gleam as he squeezed Mina making her giggle.

You nodded rapidly, “Yeah, one of my coworkers said she’d cover the rest of my shift so everything is good here! Are you ready to go?” You gave a tiny smile, rubbing your arms as you wrapped them around yourself. Jungkook nodded as he grabbed Mina’s backpack leading you out to his car which was surprisingly clean, had you not noticed how organized Mina’s backpack usually is you would have assumed he did it just for you.

But you had a feeling Jungkook was just a very organized and clean person, which was rather appreciated given your messy nature, “Oh here I can help, those buckles seem really tricky,” You laughed at Jungkook’s long fingers fumbling with Mina’s car seat buckles, you suddenly felt like it was a bad idea when you squeezed through the car door, your body pressed against Jungkook’s as you both awkwardly laughed as you grabbed the farther end buckle.

Mina gurgled in delight at the realization you were still with them as she bounced in her seat making it more difficult to buckle up, Jungkook shook his head roughly to try and get his hair out of his eyes as he pressed his brows together, “Ah this thing is always so difficult, I should really just get a new one, she’s almost too big for it anyways.”

“Oh here!” You tugged the buckle further just enough for Jungkook to click in as you both cheered in victory, before you suddenly cried, “Ow! Mina! Please let go,” Mina had grabbed a fist full of your hair before harshly tugging on it, rubbing your scalp as you gently pulled the hair from her grip.

You felt like you could breath when you and Jungkook squeezed out of the door, making a respectable amount of space as you both laughed a little, Jungkook opening the passenger door for you as you sat down, shifting in your seat a little nervously as you clicked in your seat belt.

“We’re not going anywhere fancy by the way,” Jungkook gave you a sheepish smile as he began driving, “There’s a really cool pizza place with a kids play area that Mina likes so I figured we’d go there, if you don’t mind…!”

Relaxing into your seat a little you gave a nod as you folded your hands into your lap, “Of course I don’t mind Jungkook!” You gave a small meek smile, “I’m sure it’s a great place.” Jungkook’s cheeks looked a little pink as he offered you a brief smile before returning his eyes to the road. He had admittedly been waiting so long for this moment, to finally pluck the courage to just ask you out.

You were nearly perfect, soft, sweet and most importantly, Mina loved you. He had just begun to give up finding someone due to how picky Mina was, and then he met you.

Sure things seemed a bit, awkward at first, but just like last time you both quickly fell into a rhythm of easy conversation, sitting at the table that was in the play area while Mina toddled around exploring, “Oh god I don’t know,” You both were laughing as you bashfully rubbed your face, smiling at your glass of soda as you shrugged meekly, “I mean, don’t get me wrong I love kids! I wouldn’t work with them if I didn’t but I mean, having kids of my own…? Does it count if my mom wants me to have kids?”

Jungkook nearly choked on his drink as he snorted, laughing softly as he shook his head, “You wanting kids and your mom wanting you to have kids is two totally different things. It’s okay to not want them, I didn’t think I’d ever want any either, then Mina came along and now she’s my whole world,” Jungkook’s eyes were soft as he gazed at the toddler fondly, “Mina was...a surprise baby,”

He admitted much to your surprise, you didn’t think he’d divulge such...sensitive information, he gave a sheepish smile at your expression, “You don’t have to look like that, it’s something that’s already been worked out. Like I said, Mina is my whole world and I’d never change a thing that happened, but she’s part of the reason we got a divorce…Oh jesus- am I making you uncomfortable?” Jungkook suddenly stumbled as if fully realizing what he was saying.

Coughing you rapidly shook your head, “No! I just...I didn’t want you to feel pressured to say anything, I mean, it’s your business, but if it’s something you don’t mind talking about then feel free to continue. I was just surprised, is all, I can’t imagine you not wanting kids honestly.” It was true, Jungkook treated Mina like she was the best thing in his life, the way he left her with the slight guilt in his expression every morning, the way his eyes lit up when he watched her toddle to him in excitement when he picked her up, it was written all over his face, he absolutely loved and adored her.

Laughing a little Jungkook swirled the ice in his drink around as he shrugged, “Sorry, I just, I don’t know I feel like clarity is probably appreciated on your end, I’d rather you not get involved without knowing all the details. Mina, wasn’t why we got divorced, not directly!” He suddenly swallowed thickly, doe eyes searching yours as if not wanting you to take his previous words the wrong way, “But her mom, she just has a lot of issues,” He gave a more humorless laugh this time as he kept his gaze on the table, “She’d accuse me of cheating anytime I was even slightly late getting home, really possessive and insecure, she lied when she said she was still on pill to try and...I don’t know, ‘secure’ me? And well....Mina came along.”

The frown tugged on your lips as you rested your head against your hand, “No I understand what you mean, about the whole divorce thing at least, I can’t imagine doing that to someone, given from past conversations I’m assuming you share joint custody?” Jungkook had occasionally mentioned in the past about dropping Mina off at her moms, though he always seemed slightly disgruntled at the idea.

Sighing Jungkook shrugged, “For now, nothing is set in paper, we just work a schedule out week to week,” He pucked his lips a little before letting his gaze meet yours, “But I’m hoping for full custody in the future, maybe I sound like an asshole but I don’t want Mina anywhere near her, she’s become really...psychotic since the divorce, always trying to convince me to ‘come back’, or threatening to get full custody herself, tons of crazy shit… So uh,” He ran a hand through his hair, an awkward smile quirking on his lips, “Hope I haven’t scared you off yet, this really isn’t a first date topic is it…?”

“Well taking your daughter out on your first date isn’t norm either but here we are,” You offered a relaxed smile, “I don’t mind, like you said, it is your past, but I’m not easily scared away.” For the first time, he smirked, making your body nearly go into shock and your face to suddenly flush as you glanced down at the table. God give you strength.

The evening outside of that moment was well spent and you had went back to Jungkook’s house to stay in for a movie afterwards before retiring home, Mina however was lounged out on the floor, her blanket spread beneath her while hugging her teddy bear, watching the disney movie in excitement with gurgles of enthusiasm, “Atleast someone is happy to see Mulan save China,” You clacked your tongue before laughing, letting out a yawn as you stretched out, hardly even noticing the way Jungkook’s arm had somehow wrapped around your shoulders. You felt your eyes tiredly begin to shut, god why did you always agree to come in for one of the early morning shifts?

“It’s one of her favorite movies,” Jungkook hummed, his nose crinkling a little at his daughters excitement, “You looked tired, do you want me to take you home?” He asked with a soft murmur, noticing you sleepily rub your eyes.

Waving your hand in dismal you replied, “No- no! I’ll go when the movie is over don’t worry, besides Mina would throw a fit if we paused it now.” There was certainly truth to your words, Mina never liked her TV time interrupted. Especially during Mulan. Chuckling softly Jungkook chose not to reply when you yawned again, your head falling against his shoulder as your eyes began to close. You couldn’t help it, he was just so damn warm.

Everything felt hazy as you hugged tightly against the firm yet warm figure, yawning as you nudged your nose along the odd feel of skin, where were you again? You nearly jumped away at the soft squeeze against your waist.

Your vision opening to the familiar sight of Jungkook’s living room, Mina no longer situated out in front of you and the TV long since turned off, the blinds had been drawn from last night letting the warm light stream in as you stiffened. Letting out a squeak at the bedheaded sight of Jungkook beneath you. Oh my god! You slept with him! Not sleep, slept with him but…!

Your face was throbbing as he let out a yawn, “Morning,” He stretched out, his hand stroking along your back making you squirm. Jungkook took immediate notice as he quickly released his grip on you, “I’m sorry.” You immediately got off him sitting an awkward distance away as he apologized, cheeks pink as you tugged at your hair.

Jungkook had parted his lips once more to speak but you had already stood up, “N-no! I should be the one apologizing! I….I-I um, I better get going! I forgot to tell my roommates I was going out- I'll see you later!” You fumbled before hurriedly making your way out of the living room, you could hear Jungkook sighing yet he didn’t call out for you. God why couldn’t you just play it cool for once?

You didn’t see Lisa and Chloe again until Friday morning where they nearly shouted at you for a ‘missed’ opportunity, “Girl you were sleeping on him!” Chloe tried to stress to you, “That was the perfect moment oh my god!”

They were mourning your loss at potential dick while you were meanwhile squirming in embarrassment, “Guys! This isn't about that! I just… I just wanted to get to know him better! I don’t want him to think that’s all I want.”

“Oh my god.” Lisa whispered under her breath before her attention was pulled to the two boys that had been fighting over who had the batman toy first, she immediately sprang into action as she walked over to deal with it.

Your attention however was drawn to the door that had opened, filtering in the ungodly loud cries that were all too familiar, Mina sobbing as she clung to Jungkook’s tired figure, Chloe clacked her tongue, “Are you just gonna ignore him now…?”

“No…” You swallowed thickly, feeling tension rise in your chest at Jungkook’s gaze immediately finding yours as he cooed to Mina, standing up you meekly walked over, giving a timid smile and feeling slightly guilty for running off on him nearly two days ago without a word since.

“See babygirl? She’s right here,” Jungkook cooed softly, Mina’s little lips trembling as fat tears rolled down her cheeks, peeking out from Jungkook’s shoulder before her sobs bubbled once more, arms stretching out too you as your lips tugged into a sad pout, “She’s missed you,” Jungkook murmured as he passed her off too you, “Extremely clingy since you left,” He gave a breathy chuckle though it sounded a little forced, “I…I really am sorry about what happened Y/n, I should have woken you up but you just looked so peaceful there and I-”

“It’s okay,” Jungkook swallowed thickly, his puppy-like gaze meeting yours with a level of timidness before dropping his gaze once more, “I just...I was a little embarrassed, that’s all Jungkook. It’s not your fault, I should have just gone home when I started getting tired.”

Mina’s tears had finally ceased as she sniffled, snot running down her nose and unto her lips as you felt a tiny smile tug on your lips, grabbing a tissue from the box on the counter as you wiped her nose, “...Did she really miss me?”

“She’s been waterworks since,” Jungkook laughed a little easier this time, rubbing the back of his neck as he continued, “I think she’ll sleep easy during nap time today.” You situated her upright on your hip as you gently brushed the strings of hair from her watery eyes as she dropped her head against your shoulder, she did look a lot more tired as of late, gurgling her eyes were already beginning to droop.

“So um…” Jungkook scratched the back of his neck gaining your attention once more as you noticed his cheeks becoming pink and he couldn’t stop fiddling with his hands, “Does that mean we’re still….erm...can we still see each other..- Not that you have too! I don’t want you to think I’m pushing or that you have too, but- I- I just think-”

“Of course Jungkook,” You gave a breathy laugh, feeling your cheeks begin to warm as well as you rubbed the left over streaks of tears off Mina’s cheeks, feeling a little bashful as you nibbled against your lip, meekily glancing up at his also timid figure, pushing the bangs from his eyes as he gave a blushing smile, “Okay...then I’ll...I’ll see you later then.”

You shuffled a little as you nodded, trying to not let your heart explode as he leaned in, kissing Mina’s forehead as her eyes watered, not crying but looking close too it as she grabbed his shirt with a whine, “No babygirl you’ll stay with Y/n okay?” He whispered encouragingly to her as she gurgled displeased, “I promise I’ll be back soon.” He pressed another kiss against her forehead before taking his departure.

Mina was not the least bit happy to be passed off and still without both of her favorite people causing her to screech and cry, throwing her head against the crook of your neck dramatically as you tutted softly, giving her a little bounce, “Don’t worry honey, he’ll be back soon.”

----

Things had been going surprisingly well after that mortifying hiccup on your part. Jungkook and you would routinely go out every Friday after he picked Mina up and the three of you would eat out together, occasionally on a Monday night you’d all watch a movie together at his house. It was nice and you both had become far more acquainted with one another and casual.

What you hadn’t expected today though, was well...this...”Uh, I’m sorry ma’am but you’ll need to put Jungkook on the phone to verify pick up since you aren’t written off as Mina’s mother on his sign up form.”

This woman, was presumably Mina’s mother, or as she introduced herself as Seo Yeon, and you wouldn’t lie, you were a little intimidated. She was well dressed in a business suit and clutched her Prada bag as if it was a cheap off brand, her sunglasses atop her head showing off her annoyed, irritated expression, “I am Mina’s mother! I shouldn’t have to put up with this shit. I should be allowed to check my own child out.”

You did your best to try to hide your expression that desperately wanting to contort between a cringe- for her swearing loudly in a daycare and irritation for the fact that you just explained why that wasn’t allowed and of course, fear because Seo Yeon was definitely a scary woman when she was angry.

Mina seemed non pulsed in your arms despite being in front of her mom as her head twisted to try and get a glimpse at the TV in the room that was still playing Peppa Pig, one of her new favorites, “Ma’am, I just told you, Jungkook didn’t put you on his sign up form when he registered into First Steps daycare center, meaning you don’t have legal permission to sign Mina out, I’d be breaking policy and could be potentially fired if I let you take her now. Please call Jungkook and we’ll get this sorted out. I can even set you up on the form as long as Jungkook is present for it.”

“What’s going on here?” Just on time Jungkook had opened the door to the main check in room where you stood, the gate behind you closed as all the other kids played, his brows were furrowed at the sight of you with Mina, rather confused at first before his eyes narrowed on Seo Yeon who whipped around, anger twisting on her face as she accusingly pointed a finger at you, “Telling this idiot to let me check our child out Jungkook, we agreed I would be picking Mina up at daycare today- I knew I should’ve picked the daycare this place is so shotty!”

Your lips parted in offence at her words, how presumptuous of her! You were following the policy and even if you wanted to help her out you were to keep Mina here by law until her assigned guardian- Jungkook returned, unless a special permission slip had been signed by him stating otherwise.

“It’s Wednesday Seo Yeon...” Jungkook looked a little embarrassed by his ex wife's actions, rubbing the back of his neck as he sighed, “We changed our plans for you to pick her up tomorrow, I told you I needed to fill out a permission slip today so you’d be able to- remember?” His reminder seemed to jog her memory, her cheeks becoming a little red and embarrassed.

Yet Seo Yeon offered no apology to you, instead she grabbed onto Jungkook’s bicep as her lips tugged into a little pout, a complete one eighty from the demon you just witnessed, “Oh baby I’m sorry, you know how forgetful I can be at times! That worker just made me so mad though! I should be on the form as well so I can pick Mina up at any time in case of an emergency.”

Jungkook’s lips twitched a little and you could sense a little annoyance rising in him before he sighed through his nose, “Yeah I know, look- can we talk about this later? Mina has a doctor's appointment that I need to run her too so I don’t wanna be late.”

“Oh I can come with you! I think it’s important I know Mina’s health,” Seo Yeon butted in as Jungkook already whirled around to check Mina out at the counter where the desk worker was, “Besides I haven’t seen her since Monday, I think she’s missed mommy.” Seo Yeon cooed before abruptly plucking her from your arms.

You found your voice catching in your throat in objection at hearing Mina’s whimper, wiggling in her mom's arm as her mom ignored her and only cooed, suddenly glaring at you before turning to face Jungkook who ran a hand through his hair, not looking like he wanted to say yes but not having a reason to say no, “Alright- then can you go out and get her in her car seat? My cars at the far end in the lot.”

Seo Yeon appeared victorious as she plucked the keys from his hands and trotted outside with Mina who continued fussing, “I’m really sorry Y/n…” Jungkook glanced at the ground, looking embarrassed once again, “She can get a bit rude at times with customer service.”

“It’s okay, really,” You forced a smile from your lips, you wouldn’t lie, the fact that he really let her just hound into you was a bit….off putting. You could clearly see why this woman was his ex-wife, but couldn't he have...? What were you saying? You weren’t even officially a thing with Jungkook, “I- uh…” You let the smile drop all too easily as you sighed running a hand through your hair, unable to stop the annoyance in your voice as you muttered, “I need to get back to the other kids, I’ll see you later Jungkook.”

Jungkook looked a little helpless, eyes in distress at your annoyed figure not even giving him time to try and recover from his previous words as you closed the gate behind you walking back into the room.

On one hand you understood where he was coming from, but she was so blatantly rude to you! After she ripped the poor desk worker a new one she had nearly screamed to be allowed to see her child and given you were the only daycare worker that Mina liked...God what an unpleasant woman.

“Did you finally get the demon under control?” Chloe lowered her voice as she peered behind you, groaning as you nodded your head. Trying to get the image of Seo Yeon clasping Jungkook’s arm like she owned him out of your head, you knew you both weren’t an actual item but still. Rubbing your head you explained to her what had happened as Lisa joined the conversation, both angry in your defense.

But that was his ex wife after all. You couldn’t help but deflate a little at the idea, if you did get involved in Jungkook, that would always be a plague in the back of your mind and you couldn’t put off the question anymore now that you had both a name and a face to an important figure in Jungkook’s life.

God no wonder you never went out on dates anymore.

Note: I hope you guys are enjoying this lil series so far!! It makes my heart uwu! The good news is I may have underestimated the word count so next chapter is going to be a little longer and there might be a fifth part of the series! Anyways let me know what you guys think!! 🖤

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Of something beautiful, but annihilating🚬1

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, violence and abuse, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of death [other warning to be added throughout series]

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader’s husband brings home an unexpected houseguest.

Note: So i just worked my ass off and retail is always crummy this time of year so I’m gonna escape with some sweet Arvin Russell writing. 

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The spring air was warm as the breeze swept over the low fence and fluttered the tails of shirts hung across the line. You grabbed two pegs and a swathe of damp fabric and stretched it over the cord, pinning it in place before moving along. Your old machine had taken much of the day to wrangle and had even received a kick. It was decades old, an heirloom inherited with the old country house and much more clunky than the modern machines. Not many in the county had anything more than the old wringing machines.

Roy would be home soon. Your husband hated to hear about how the wringer jammed so easily and the fear that your fingers might again be bruised by the mechanism. Even so, you were certain it wouldn't last for much longer. It's rattles foretold its imminent fate. You'd be back to a bucket and board soon enough.

As you hung the last piece, Roy's oil stained overalls, you heard the putter of the truck. You picked up the woven basket and headed for the gate along the front of the house. You waved as he pulled up, tires loudly mulching the dirt, and you stopped short as he came to a jagged halt. He wasn't alone and you were stillwearing your grimy and wet apron.

Roy pushed his door open so roughly it creaked. He stepped out and gave an exaggerated stretch as he glanced across the roof of the truck and slammed the door.

"Don't forget your bag, boy," he growled at the other man as he felt around the chest pocket of his overall for his smokes. "Looks like you're too late for laundry day."

"Roy?" You unclasped the gate and opened it as Roy stomped across the gravel and lit up a smoke, "How was your day?" 

You peeked over at the other man who climbed out of the truck. He wore similar overall, though they were unbuttoned over a greasy white shirt, and he was shorter and thinner than your husband. He reached back into the truck and grabbed a long military style duffel before he swung the door shut. 

Your husband grumbled and blew out a mouthful of smoke.

"We have a guest?" You asked as you stayed by the gate.

"Arvin Russell," Roy flicked the ash away, "You remember I was talkin' 'bout renting out the attic."

"Um, yes," you blinked as the other man, Arvin, neared meekly. Roy had mentioned the idea once when he noticed the way his truck had started rumbling.  "It'll need a good dusting."

"So you better get on that." Roy coughed. "What's for dinner?"

"Meatloaf," you answered and turned back to smile at the other man as he bowed his head and passed through the gate.

"Hello, missus," he said kindly, "Nice to meet ya. I work with your husband, says you're a fine cook."

"The one thing she can do," Roy muttered as he ambled up the steps of the porch and dropped onto the bench sat by the window. "You go grab us some bottles."

You closed the gate behind Arvin but he waited for you to precede him before going any further. He was surprisingly polite for any man who worked at the shop. 

"Yes, Roy," you hid your disappointment. Those nights when Roy started drinking before dinner rarely ended well.

"Can I just have some water?" Arvin asked as he followed you onto the porch, "Please. I didn't get to my lunch today so I'm not really feeling like drinking."

"Of course," you said, "If you're hungry, I got a box of crackers and some cheese I can bring out."

"Thank you but I'd hate to spoil dinner." Arvin sat on the end of the bench and kept his bag between his feet as Roy threw away his cigarette. "Thank you both for having me."

You nodded and quickly skirted inside. You were a bit confounded by Roy's sudden burst of generosity. He rarely did anything for anyone else. To think he'd offer a room to a coworker was unlike him.

You went to the old fridge, marked with dings and dents, and wiggled the handle until it opened. You remember the day you Pa had broken the handle, he'd always promised to fix it but had only managed to make it worse. You missed him. It was easy to miss him in this old place. His wedding present to you and Roy. It was too tragic he hadn't lived long enough to see you enjoy it.

You grabbed a brown bottle then filled a tall glass from the tap. You went back to the door and opened it with your elbow. You handed Roy his beer as Arvin stood to accept his glass of water.

"Thank you," he chimed but your husband only popped the cap of his beer with his teeth and glared out at the yard.

"Well dinner is in the oven still. I'll just be finishing that before I get started in the attic." You told Roy but he only shrugged and gulped down the beer. "Let me know if you boys need anything." 

"Peace and quiet," Roy snarled. "S'all I need right now."

Arvin gave a sympathetic look and traced his thumb along the side of the glass. You hid your discomfort and retreated inside. That was just Roy. He was always in a mood after work. An hour or two and he would mellow out. The beer would surely help.

🚬

When you finished supper, you called the men in to eat. Roy started his second beer as Arvin remained quiet and awkward at the table. You didn’t say much as you pondered the work still left to be done. You had to tidy the attic before the night ended and collect the laundry from the line. You would also have to clear the table and clean up the mess of your cooking.

You stood before the men finished. You scraped your untouched scraps into the dish of leftovers and placed the glass lid on it. You scoured the loaf pan as you listened to the clink of cutlery on plates and set the pots on the drying rack. You returned to the men to gather their empty dishes and Arvin thank you as Roy belched and stood with a satisfied but gruff rumble.

Arvin watched you as you tried to ignore the pity in his face. You knew your husband wasn’t the most loving or vocal, but he was yours and he worked hard. You turned away and went back to the kitchen. You finished washing the last of the glassware and dried it before stacking it in the cupboards.

As you passed through the dining room, Arvin was gone and you could hear the buzz of the radio from the front room. Roy always liked to listen to the game after he ate. Sometimes you sat with him and crocheted or read but not often.

You tiptoed upstairs and found the footstool hidden in the bottom of the linen closet. You climbed onto the step and reached up to unhook the cord of the attic door. It dangled down and you pulled it carefully as you backed off the stool and kicked it away. The steps unfolded and you barely stepped out of the way of their descent as the heavy wood thumped against the carpet.

It had been a while since you ventured up to the third floor. There was only dust and forgotten memories up there. You slowly made your way up and sneezed as you reached the top. A wall of boxes blocked the window along the front of the house and shrouded furniture sat beneath grimy sheets.

You started with the boxes. You took one and peeked under the flaps. Some old oil lamps hoarded by your father from his own parents. You awkwardly made your way back down to the second floor and placed the box at the bottom. When you had them all down, you’d take them into your father’s old room to store. Perhaps you should sort through them at last and get rid of the unneeded artifacts.

You were six boxes deep when you were startled by a shadow in the open hatch. You exclaimed and nearly dropped your armful as Arvin poked his head through and peered over at you.

“Arvin,” you gasped. “My apologies, this place is a mess.”

“Not so bad,” he climbed up and stood, “You need some help?”

“Don’t be silly, I can manage--”

“You’re right. It’s a mess,” he insisted, “A lot for just one person.”

You stared at him and gave a small smile. He was funny. He neared you and reached out for the box in your arms.

“How about this, I’ll stay on the ladder and you bring the boxes to me and I’ll take ‘em down.” He took the box gently from you, “It’ll be much quicker.”

You looked into his soft brown eyes and let him. He backed away and cautiously made his way down the ladder. You turned and grabbed another box and he reappeared through the hatch. You handed him the box of figurines and he retreated once more. You carried on and soon, the boxes were stacked high on the lower floor.

“Alright,” Arvin climbed up and dusted off his hands, “Already lookin’ better.”

He neared the old sofa against the wall and pulled off the sheet. He coughed as the dust was kicked up and it soon turned into a chuck as he waved away the cloud.

“We can keep this here,” he draped the sheet over his arm and pulled the next from the tall lamp with the glass shade, “Move this into the corner,” he continued on and peeked under a sheet before unveiling the tall shelf, “If you don’t mind, of course?”

“Not at all. We should’ve sold all this years ago.” You teetered on your heels anxiously. Every piece reminded you of your father. “There’s a cot folded up over there,” you pointed behind a hidden end table, “But that wouldn’t be much better than the floor.”

“It’ll do,” he assured you and turned to sit on the sofa. He bounced as he hugged the sheets. “This isn’t too bad.”

“Well, there’s a bed down in my pa’s room. We could try to bring it up tomorrow. If you don’t mind offerin’ a little more help.” You wrung your hands. You were never very good with strangers and Roy’s friends often weren’t much nicer than him. You were tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I think I could do that,” he stood and wiggled his nose as a sneeze threatened. “You got a broom? Maybe a duster?”

“You’ve done enough, I can finish it--”

“Ma’am, I’m a guest in your home. I might be paying for the room but it doesn’t make you my maid,” he intoned, “You’ve already done more than enough. I don’t think I’ve eaten so well since before my momma died.”

“Oh, I’m… sorry,” you uttered. “I--”

“Now, don’t be sorry,” he cooed, “Nothing to be sorry for. I assume you lost your daddy if his bed is free.” 

You nodded dumbly and blinked.

“Well, at least let me take these,” you reached for the sheets and he hesitated before he let you take them. You struggled to keep them balled up and hugged them against your hip as you turned back to the hatch. “I’ll bring you the broom.”

“Thank you,” he said behind you and you looked back at him as you took your first step down the ladder, “You let me know when you bring that washin’ in and I’ll help you fold.”

“You don’t have to--”

“I want to. Makes me feel a little better about stealin’ your attic,” he assured you.

You looked down and slowly descended. As your feet met the carpet, you sighed and looked around at the boxes. You couldn’t remember a time Roy had ever offered to help with anything. If it wasn’t to do with his truck, he couldn’t be bothered to lift a finger.

🚬

You were completely drained by the time you retired to your bedroom. You were still on edge, your exhaustion laced with anxiety as you unbuttoned your blouse. You sat on the side of the bed as you slowly undressed. It was still absurd to you that another person, barely more than a stranger, was living in your home. In your father’s house.

It changed your whole routine. You couldn’t help but go over it in your mind. That meant three plates, not two, for every meal, that meant the laundry basket would fill up quicker, than meant the shoes tracks in the front entrance would need to be mopped up more often. That mean you had to act like your marriage was truly happy.

You pulled on your night gown, the short sleeves tickled your upper arms as you dropped your clothes in the wicker basket on your chest of drawers. A framed photo of your parents’ wedding day sat beside it and on the shelf beside the door, was your own wedding portrait.

Three years wasn’t so long but it felt an eternity. You couldn’t quite recall when Roy had changed. When the beer had started to taint his kisses and his words. When all pretense fell away and only the man remained. The brutish country boy with the churlish demeanour.

Maybe the first day of your marriage. Maybe. You were so nervous on your wedding night that it angered him. You’d mend your dress one day, hopefully when you had a daughter of your own so you had something to promise her. 

Or maybe a week after the wedding, when you broke the vase gifted to you upon your nuptials and it shattered across the floor. Roy’s booming voice and his boulder-like fists.

Maybe, maybe, maybe, a month in when the world went black with his hand on your throat and you awoke alone on the kitchen floor.

Maybe a year when your finger was dislocated by a slammed door. Maybe the next year when you couldn’t sit for the pain in your hips. Maybe the one after when he’d grown impatient for a child only to find your sheets soaked in blood. 

Maybe it had always been there, from the first date, but you’d simply refused to accept it. Not you. Not Roy. You loved him and he loved you, didn’t he?

The door slammed and shook you from your sombre recollections. You looked up as Roy stumbled in. He snickered darkly as your eyes met his and his legs wobbled beneath him drunkenly.

You slid off the bed and turned to plant your elbows on the mattress. A prayer before bed, as your grandmother had taught you. Another sarcastic chuckle aimed in your direction as Roy’s stained white tee missed the basket.

“On your knees for me already,” he sat beside your elbow as he unbuckled his belt.

You couldn’t focus on your inner recitation. You could smell the alcohol on him, the stench of oil and his sweat. You clutched your hands together and cleared your throat.

“Why didn’t you call me?” You asked calmly.

He frowned and stood to shove his pants past his knees. He kicked the jeans away and fell heavily back to the bed.

“Call you?” He sneered.

“To let me know about our guest?” You wondered innocently. “I could’ve readied for him better.”

“Workin’,” he growled. “I don’t got time to be callin’ you with my head under an engine. Fuckin’ Christ.”

“There isn’t a bed in the attic.” You said.

“So. Arv’s small enough. I’ve seen him sleep on a stool.” Roy spat. 

You hid your chagrin behind your hands as you pressed them to your lips.

“Why’d you bring him?”

Roy’s nostrils flared and a fist formed atop his hairy thigh. “I gotta explain to you?” He snapped. “He paid me outright and he been sleepin’ at the motel since he started.”

“Mr. Dace has a room--”

“Mr. Dace lives twice as far as we do. I did the kid a favour. He saved my ass his first day.” Roy stomped his foot. “Woulda burned down the whole garage if he hadn’t caught that leak.”

“Kid? He that young?”

“Couple years younger than you, I s’pose, maybe less,” Roy rubbed his cheeks and shook his head, “What’s it matter to you?”

“Curious,” you said quietly and closed your eyes as you rested your chin on your knuckles.

Roy was quiet. He let out a long, thick breath and the bed jolted beneath your arms.

“You finished bleeding?” He asked gruffly. 

“I’m praying, Roy,” you insisted.

“How long’s it take you? I’m sure God’s heard it all before.”

“Don’t talk like that, R--”

You squeaked as he grabbed your wrist and wrenched your arms away. He rose and lifted you with him. Always a strong man, he moved you like a puppet to his will. He took your other wrist and pulled you against him.

“You know, I don’t even care if you’re bleeding.” He turned you and shoved you onto the bed. You cried out as you bounced so hard you bit your tongue.

“Roy, please, I’m tired,” you stared up at him fearfully as you pushed yourself up on your elbows. You could taste blood.

“You’re my wife. You do your duty.” He pushed his underwear down as his cock twitched. “You got energy to wash all them clothes, you can lay on your back for your husband.”

“Roy--”

“Shut up!” He shouted. “We got company. I don’t need ya keepin’ him up with your whining.”

You closed your eyes as he fell onto you. He crushed you beneath him as he tugged your skirt up harshly. He pushed your legs apart with his knee and you braced yourself for his painful intrusion. Even so long into the marriage, you had never grown used to his touch.

He retracted his hand and began to touch himself. He stroked his cock as he swore under his breath.

“Fuck. Come on.” He moved his hand quicker and rubbed his soft tip against your folds. “Open up.” 

He forced his dick against your entrance and tried to push inside. He was still half-flaccid and struggled to get further than an inch. You balled your hands and sank your head into the mattress as he thrust. He fell out of you, softer than before.

You opened your eyes sat up on his knees and looked down at his limp dick. He gritted his teeth as you watched him.

“You fuckin’ bitch,” he punched your stomach as hard as he could and you wheezed as you folded in on yourself. “Can’t even keep me hard.”

“Roy--” You hissed. “I’m s--”

“One more word and you’ll be real sorry.” He pushed himself from between your legs, making certain to pinch you as he did.

He stood and turned. You barely moved out of the way before he sprawled over his side of the mattress. You held your stomach, a painful pressure lodge there, and rolled to the edge of the bed. You reached over and pulled the chain on the lamp. 

As you laid back, Roy caught the back of your neck and kept you in a painful limbo.

“On the floor,” he jarred your neck as he tried to throw you off the bed. “Like the dog you are.”

You slid off the side and landed sharply on your knees. You stifled a shameful sob and lowered yourself down onto your side. You bent your knees and cushioned your head on one arm. You stared into the void beneath the bed as the frame groaned beneath Roy’s heavy body.

“Goddamn bitch,” he uttered groggily. “Fuckin’--”

His words turned to snores as he finally drowned in his bellyful of beer. You listened to his jagged, drunken breaths as you shivered on the cold wood. You closed your eyes and recalled the first night you’d slept on the floor. You’d been in much poorer shape and it had been the dead of winter.

At least, you didn’t have to sleep next to him.