#been on this new blog for less than 24 hours and i’m already back into changing my canon. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

berlinbisque · 2 years ago

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Hand looks bigger there, I have not added any filter so you can see the actual colour of the phone, Gold definitely goes with all kinds of transparent collage covers but Silver has an altogether different cult following, there are bloggers who have come up with a new aesthetic it’s Black & Chrome so they obviously take shots of their shiny steel Delonghi machines and chrome edges in completely dark high contrast vignette videos to maintain that black in it, what was once basic has now become a glamorous shade of white.

As for me like I’ve already shared in my blog article, that I liked Black out of all the deeper shades and otherwise Gold cuz it’s still like a Latte but a light & at times “sparkly” latte colour, I’m more into Vanillas and warmer tones like Beiges and Creams as an aesthete even though I don’t have an aesthtic blog yet, I do have a website and blog (www.lilacnights.com/blog) so I would call it a gallery here on Instagram, I don’t have something like that for now. But I’m into those shades so I like Gold. The power button had gone completely inside and it wasn’t coming out I was so scared I panicked… then I removed it from the cover and I tried to see what was wrong then it was working fine like I said two covers were not cutout properly and they were totally bad cuz they were not from my regular site I’ve shared about that on my blog, so I had to use the liquid silicone case’s dupe which was very slippery (hence I was careful with phone) BUT I hated it from day one cuz the images were misleading and this cover had no finishing at all, I realised the buttons were not made in any proper manner and they were boasting about them in the description box, the button is anyway not as tight as my mini and it had become very lose and it had gone inside when I used it with the cover on although the cover was properly fitted and this happened today after 24 hours. I tried launching Siri with another cover and it had no problem the button didn’t go inside this time. Please stay away from Aprozone or liquid silicone covers even if they don’t have any branding or apple’s logo they are still dupes they might look minimalistic and posh but those covers are problematic. I placed an order yesterday for 2 more covers on an urgent basis as I’m always very careful with my stuff, they arrived early today by noon. I got them for around 1450/- approx 700 each, there was a time when I would pay 999 for the classic transparent cover which would come with nothing but a foam stuffing inside, no box luckily this time I paid slightly less but I got a box packed cover fresh piece, it’s a US/UK brand it comes in a matte box and a proper cover for the case, it was actually for 1899/- MRP but I got it for 700 or so. Its important to have one of these it’s a basic transparent silicone case which is completely flexible (not hard base at the back) but this one’s more thicker and resilient that the 999 ones that I’ve used before they were very soft and light, so I’m glad I got a good quality cover this time. It also has lens protection. Next my Starbucks cover hasn’t been dispatched idk if they’d be shipping it at all, it was again from a private website and it’s anyway for 360 bucks so let’s see, I ordered this Starbucks cover as an alternative and it has a barista bear sticker too, I didn’t want that Casetify borders (I’m assuming it’s a dupe) but the black goes with certain stickers which are printed, print quality is okay… cover is good and I love it, I like it more than the actually casetify cuz they don’t have this print and they are stiffer or more bulkier. I immediately changed the case after that button issue and used the Starbucks one, I haven’t tried the other plain cover but I’ve kept it as an extra in spare.

Click on the image for better quality

I’ve had Crocin (paracetamol) for my headache and fever which is due to the right wisdom tooth hopefully and I’m guessing the mental confusion and numbness is because of my flare up and sinus (it’s making me loopy) I’m scared though. Anyway I had to buy a power adapter cuz even after the huge price tag it’s never included and the one which I had been using for years was the old iPhone 7 USB adapter, I realised my new iPhone would require a bigger watts adapter so I had to order it on CC 💳 due to current financial problems but I’ll disperse the amount within the next cycle (had to mention that cuz some people are showing jealousy and it’s just shocking because they believe we are super rich, I have already shared how I even took this phone and it’s my first PRO that too as an adult I’m not a teenager but people compare like anything! I can’t take names it’s someone close, I’m bed ridden I can’t earn for now I feel horrible and my father is the sole bread winner in the family but some people keep asking his profession and taunting us they keep saying with anger that this is how you’ve got so much money 💵 right? He’s a civil engineer 👷 and he’s into construction biz he doesn’t give us anything happily and he would earn only 20k when we were toddlers, today’s teenagers have not seen actual poverty like us, he kept getting promoted that’s all and now he’s freelancing so it’s been very difficult since 2017 but considering how envious people are it’s as if I can’t share any happiness at all, I have covered everything in my iPhone post it says why I got this phone and also how) this adapter is meant for a USB C charger and after taking the Apple one, I had to spend less on the other charger so I got something from a 3rd party brand it’s US based but they’ve started manufacturing in India someone had an issue with their USB C port and they got it exchanged and it’s working now, luckily I found one for 299+45 shipping & disc. with dual USB ports, it has an LED indicator, it’s for my wireless charger (couch one) and my other vanilla coloured silicone night lamp which I had shared in my post and the rest of my fav stuff such as the mini portable speaker, all of them require at least a 5 W adapter and I decided to upgrade from my spoilt iPhone 7 USB adapter (which has even twisted now lol by pushing in different plugs several times) to this dual one which offers 12 watts if used together, for iPhones I have taken Apple’s original adapter like I said.

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sinnoman · 4 years ago

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Letting Diavolo Go To The Human World Is The Same As Letting The Pigeon Drive The Bus… Do Not Do It!

tw: cursing. also, minus luke.

The Demon Prince’s fascination of the human world wasn’t a new thing to you. However, it did surprise you how much he did not know of the customs and cultures humans had. He’s centuries older than you can imagine and he’s never impulsively gone up there before?

When you asked him about it, he gave you wide grin. “I’ve only gone up there for conferences and meetings. I’ve never gone up there simply to have fun. I have so much work and it takes up too much time.”

You frowned a little disheartened that Diavolo hasn’t been able to experience or enjoy a trip to the human world without it being work related. You were about to suggest a proposition as Barbatos added on, “Speaking of conferences, your four o’clock meeting is about to start in ten minutes, Young Master.”

The bright smile on Diavolo’s face fell a little. “I’m sorry, MC, our weekly tea has to be cut a little short.” You reassured him it was no problem as he got up from his seat and walked you to the door. He told Barbatos to escort you to the House of Lamentation. The minute Diavolo was out of earshot, Barbatos leaned towards your ear with a strained smile on his face.

“The Young Master is able to do what he wants. However, no matter what he does, do not let him go to the Human World by himself and with no motive.”

You didn’t understand why Diavolo wasn’t allowed to go up there without being supervised. He was a grown man and the literal Future King of Hell. Surely, he could take care of himself. So a few days later you asked him if the two of you could to the Human World together and he agreed. What could possibly go wrong?

Oh, you were wrong. You were so wrong!

It’s been less than twenty-four hours and now the both of you are sitting in a jail cell. Your left hand was sticky, your clothes were damp with rainwater and you were sure the guard kept eyeing you up and down as if you were insane. Diavolo sat next to you with a guilty look on his face. He mouthed a “sorry” at you, making you giggle while tearing up at the predicament you both were in. He could only laugh with you as you laugh and cry at the same time.

When the guard had told you were allowed one phone call (courtesy to Diavolo for compelling him to do so) you immediately headed towards the jail phone and punched in the number. You were a little surprised that the Devildom phone numbers worked but you didn’t really dwell on the thought.

You just hoped the person you called would bail the both of you out.

LUCIFER

Sigh…

Someone get him five shots.

When you called Lucifer to tell him that you and Diavolo went to the Human World for a day trip, he was hoping you were going to ask him if he wanted anything before the both of you came back.

What he wasn’t expecting was (in less than 24 hours) for you to tell him not only have the both of you created an unnatural phenomenon, you managed to commit three felons, crashed a car that neither of you have a license to drive and managed to get caught of all things.

When you told him that you got arrested he was debating on letting you go to prison so you could learn your lesson. Then he heard Diavolo’s voice in the back and started choking on his wine.

How in the three realms did Diavolo managed to get arrested? And how did you (the one he thought was as responsible as him) allow this to happen? What do you mean you let Diavolo drive the car? He has a butler for a reason, MC, obviously hE DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO DRIVE—

Was about to lecture you about the danger you put yourself (Diavolo) in and what the consequences when he heard Diavolo’s, “I don’t want to go back.”

Immediately gathers everyone to go and pick you both up. Has the bail money ready to go, makes sure he thinks of everything that can go wrong and gives it a solution and prepares to drag Diavolo out that jail cell himself.

When he gets there he gives you a glare that could soil cheese in 2.5 seconds.

When he goes to bail you both and the guard tells him you both can’t be released tonight, he snaps. Immediately threatens the guards with the unholiest torture threats you’ve ever heard. The guard ends up caring a little less about his job and a little more about his life and let’s you both go.

Diavolo doesn’t leave the cell. Father help him, his patience is running thin.

The next two hours is just him, Barbatos and Diavolo arguing.

“Young Master, for the last time. Get out the cell.” “NO!” “Can we just leave him—” “Quiet, Belphegor! We cannot leave him. Lord Diavolo GET OUT THE CELL!”

MAMMON

Impressed but at the same time mostly concerned.

When you told him what happened, his face started to get paler with each word. How did the two of you manage to do all this in less than a day? And here he thought he was a troublemaker…

Then the words finally process in his head. “Ya got in a car crash?! Human what we’re ya thinkin’? What if ya died? I don’t care who was drivin’ I’m never letting ya near a car again!”

Looking and thinking for someway to profit off of this. Then realizes, as the appointed human watcher, if Lucifer found out that he let you get arrested ON TOP of Diavolo being there with you while he made money off of it, his head would be ripped off.

In a state of fear in panic for both his life and yours, he goes to pick you both up alone.

It’s not his first time encountering the police. He’s been arrested before for illegal gambles, dealing, fights and such its not hard to guess what for. He will tell you though that he’s actually not the first brother to get arrested.

When he gets there the first thing he does is rush to you and make sure you’re okay. He doesn’t really care that Diavolo is there too. He just has to make sure that you are okay. All human parts are intact? Okay. Good. Let’s go.

Then the guard tells him that he can’t let you both leave yet because you need to be trialed.

Uh oh. Frustrated Mammon is here.

Immediately starts arguing with the guard. He gets so angry he’s about to start throwing punches. That’s until the guards throws a handcuff on him and shoves him in the cell with you.

He gets a phone call too, though.

You tell him to call Lucifer or Barbatos and then Diavolo tells him not to call either of them because he really doesn’t want to go back. Suddenly, Diavolo and him are best friends.

You command him to call Lucifer though and he bites his lip. The ringing of the jail phone has his heart pounding. When the phone connects, the words spill and he mentally cursing at you.

Long story short, Lucifer is the one that gets you both out and leaves Mammon there.

LEVIATHAN

Immediately asks you why you called him of all people. Doesn’t hesitate to try and refer you to someone else.

Then immediately remembers it’s like that this is exactly like that one anime where the—

When you told him why you got arrested he got extremely nervous, ESPECIALLY when he heard Diavolo’s voice in the back correcting you when you left a detail or two out. Not because he’s of the intensity of the crimes but, because he knew Lucifer would absolutely strangle you.

Is already panicking and looking for a solution. Is trying to remember what his brothers had done when he got arrested. (Spoiler Alert! He was the first brother out of all of them to get arrested. He punched a child in the face at an anime convention. The kid snitched and told his mom, cough cough, little shit, cough cough. Does he regret it? Nope! In his opinion, the kid deserved it.)

He voices his anger when he realizes that he has to use manga money to bail you both out. How could you do this to him? He thought you were his Henry. Turns out you’re just a fish…

He blogs and video records the minute he gets up there. It’s going to go viral, he just knows it. Then he gets a message from Lucifer with a smiley face and a link to his blog and he’s panicking. He has to get you two out of there. NOW!

Simply just throws money at the guard, not really caring if you two can’t leave just yet. He’s getting you two out of there one way or another before Lucifer gets here. Listen MC he doesn’t care that he’s making things worse, he refuses to die without having his 93849281849th Ruri-Chan marathon.

Then the dilemma of Diavolo not wanting to leave hits him and his patience is running thin. Why of all people did you have to get arrested with the person needed most in the Devildom?

It becomes too late when he finally manages to start convincing Diavolo to come back home. Lucifer walks through the door.

And Levi summons Lotan.

SATAN

Mr. Agent of Chaos #1 is so proud and impressed with you.

Don’t get him wrong, he was worried about you. Getting arrested and caught for your crimes is a big deal. Yet, you managed to commit three felonies before you got caught? Love, he’s invested.

He has so many questions for you. What felonies did you commit? What was your favorite felony? How’d you get caught? What do you think was the first mistake you made that got you behind bars? If you could do this all over again do you think you would get caught? Here, let him get a pen and paper so you can tell him every little detail of what happened so he can make it fool proof for you.

Then, he here’s Diavolo say he’d be glad to provide the details of what happened and now he realizes what the big issue is.

Oh he can’t wait to hold this against Lucifer’s head. Wait, let him go tell Belphie!

He has everything prepared and is ready to bail you out. You knew he was reliable.

If you see him take a picture of the two of you curled up together in the cell. It’s for research purposes. Totally not for Belphie and him to hold against Lucifer. You can’t tell him to delete it, his printer is already making hundreds of copies.

Turns out Satan isn’t as reliable as you thought. This is because five minutes and a broken desk later, he’s thrown in cell too.

He knows he should get a call too but the guard doesn’t tell him he gets one. Starts cursing so quickly you can’t even make out the words he’s saying.

When Diavolo tells him it might be better that he doesn’t get a phone call, it clicks in his head. Who needs to be bailed out when you can just escape, duh.

He doesn’t even get to the good part when he sees his brothers, Simeon, Solomon, and Barbatos walk through the door. Turns out Belphie’s sleep talking doesn’t have a filter.

He gets a little upset after this whole ordeal. He didn’t even get to try his escape plan…

ASMODEUS

Honey, he can’t relate. It sucks to suck.

Like Lucifer, he has never been arrested. He’s been close to but whenever that happens he just distracts the police from doing it… wink wink.

He knows and seen how stingy police can be with arresting people so he immediately feels for you. And when you’re telling him why you’re in a jail cell, he immediately starts getting ready to come charm you out of that cell. Then he hears Diavolo’s voice.

On second thought…

He immediately has thoughts on how Lucifer would react if he found out he were some how involved in this. Yeah… no, he rather have skin blemishes for the rest of his life.

No matter how nervous he is, he marches his perky butt up there and goes to get you both.

When he gets there he immediately goes to baby you. Checking for any injuries and makes comments on how you’re wet and such. Then he takes in his surroundings.

You’ve been here for how many hours? Oh no. Honey, look. There’s rust everywhere, unidentifiable liquids on the ground. Ew, is that a dead roach caught in a spiderweb? Why were you sitting on the small bench they had? Do you know how many gross people sit on it too? Don’t even get him started on the smell of this cell. Once the both of you go home, straight to the bath.

He goes to pay the bail but then the guard tells them they can’t leave just yet. He knows it’s time to work his magic.

You owe him. The guard is grimy and smells like he hasn’t showered in months. Not only that they’re very persistent at about their job. Charming them is taking longer than he originally had planned.

And then he realizes that Lord Diavolo does not want to leave. Oh boy.

Explains that Lord Diavolo can go anywhere he wants after this, he doesn’t care. That was until you interrupted him saying neither of you can leave without him. He really starts to stress. Why did this have to happen to him?

Somehow and in someway, the both of you manage to convince the redhead to go home. When you get to the House of Lamentation, he’s pulling you straight to his bathroom.

BEELZEBUB

You made him drop his macaroons… his macaroons. He just got them… :(

He is so confused on how you managed to do all of this in a short amount of time? Then he realizes what you just said and he starts stress eating. Poor baby, you kinda regret calling him because it really stresses him out.

“What do you mean you got into a car crash? Are you okay? Are you sure? Don’t worry I’m coming to get you.”

Then he hears Diavolo’s “take your time” and now he’s really stress eating. Not only does he have to bail you out, he has to bail out Lord Diavolo too? Oh boy, the amount of stress you’ve given him is making him have stomach tremors.

He was thinking about getting the both of you alone. Then he started having thoughts of all the human world food and realizes he wouldn’t be able to go alone without getting distracted. So, he brings Belphie to keep him on track.

His frown grows deeper when he sees the two of you curled into each other in the corner of the cell. He ignores how Belphie’s laughing and taking pictures of you both before walking over to you two.

He didn’t bring any bail money. Like Levi, ignores how the guard is saying that they can’t let the both of you leave. Simply pushes the guard off of him when they try to stop him. He also rips the bars from the ground and throws them aside. C’mon, we’re leaving.

Then Diavolo doesn’t want to leave and that’s where Beel gets upset. He’s hungry, Lord Diavolo. He doesn’t have time to be fooling around. His stomach his about to make earthquakes.

In less than three seconds, he’s now playing tug-a-war with Diavolo. Trying to ignore the empty promises of royal dinners the Prince is throwing at him.

“Lord Diavolo, we’re leaving!” “I will let you have anything you want to eat from the Palace is you let me stay!” “WE ARE LEAVING!”

BELPHEGOR

He knew he should have slept through the phone call.

He was actually wondering where you were. You missed their daily nap session. If he wasn’t too tired, he would have gone looking for you earlier.

When you explain to him what happened there’s two opposing sides to his thought. On one hand he’s like “What do you mean you committed three felonies?” in an amusing way. Lowkey is kinda proud. The most he’s been arrested for is fight with some mom who told him he couldn’t sleep at some park with his pillow.

On the second hand he’s like “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU COMMITTED THREE FELONIES?” He’s stuck on the part on how you could have died in less than 24 hours. He’s more angry at the fact you’re making him worried about you then at the fact he has to go pick you up.

When he went to go get Beel so they could go pick you up, Mammon overheard and started making a whole commotion. You can only guess what happened next when eight demons, a sorcerer, and an angel showed up at the police station.

When he sees not only you behind bars, but Diavolo too, he’s really wishing he slept through your call.

He snaps when the guard tells him he can’t go home with you just yet. Starts picking a fight the guard. It’s a screaming match before it turns into fist fight. He’s not leaving here until he makes a point Lucifer. He’s winning this fight one way or another! You can’t stop him!!

When he hears that Diavolo doesn’t want to leave, he doesn’t care. He drags you out the cell and leaves the Prince there. Lucifer can deal with him. He just wants to go home.

When you guys do finally get to go home, he’s covered in scratches and a couple of bruises. He’s using you as a body pillow tonight whether you like it or not.

DIAVOLO

He’s so happy.

He doesn’t care that he’s committed serious crimes and is now sitting in this jail cell. He also doesn’t really care that it could potentially hurt his reputation as a ruler. He’s so happy he’s got come up here and do things he’s never done before. And he’s most happy that he got to do this with you!

And although it’s mostly his fault, he pretends as if none of it matters and keeps reliving the moments in head. (He’s sorry, truly. But when he gets so excited he just simply forgets about everything else and focuses on what he wants to do. Laws and regulations; out the window. It’s Diavolo time!)

At first you were more than a little upset with him. But then he couldn’t contain himself and started telling you about what happened today as if you weren’t there. The words are coming out his mouth so fast it gets to a point where he gets all tongue tied and he’s barely saying words.

He tells you every single detail all over again and every emotion he felt within that moment and thought he had too. And the more and more he speaks, that anger you felt diminishes. You’re happy that he’s happy and enjoyed himself although this day hadn’t particularly gone to plan.

Even when Barbatos and Lucifer come to pick you both up, he’s smiling through it. Especially when they both are lecturing you, it goes through one ear and out the other. He’s glad he was able to experience this.

Oh and don’t think it’ll stop here. He basically tries to convince you to go with him again.

BARBATOS

Longer sigh…

He warned you.

He told you not to do it and look what happened. He hopes you learned your lesson.

He also knew this was going to happen regardless of his warning. He tried preventing it, really. But no matter what alterations he made to the timeline, you both still ended in a jail cell.

When you told him what chaos the both of you have caused in less than a day, his anxiety spikes. You let Lord Diavolo drive a car? Of course he’s going to tell you he knows how to drive. Just because he tells you doesn’t mean he actually knows MC—

He’s upset with you but at the same time he feels for you too. He knows how his Young Master gets when he’s too excited. There’s nothing stopping him, he’s really the definition of one-track minded.

He tells you to give him a few seconds to gather a few things before hanging up. You thought it was going to take a half hour at most but then Barbatos is walking through the station door three seconds later.

The guard lets the both of you go willingly and with no money. You suspect it’s Barbatos doing and when you ask him about it, he acts as if he knows nothing.

Actually, he covers the entire mess completely by altering time. He can’t have people finding out Lord Diavolo had gotten arrested by human authorities, can he now? Nothing pops up when you search for news reports on the web.

He lets Lucifer deal with your punishment as he deals with Lord Diavolo’s. However, he does lecture you about it the next time he sees you. Oh, and the two of you alone together? Never happening again.

SOLOMON

You don’t get to finish your explanation before he’s laughing in your face.

Mr. Agent of Chaos #2 is so amused by this, he wants to hear exactly how you got yourself in this mess. He’s even more surprised that you allowed yourself to get caught. You have pacts with seven demon lords and you thought to not use any of them?? This is more entertaining than Asmo at a frat house.

WAIT DID HE JUST HEAR LORD DIAVOLO’S VOICE TOO?

He starts laughing even harder. The Demon Prince got arrested too? This is comedy gold. Wait a little while longer, he needs to document it for future references. Quick question: what type of unnatural phenomenon did the two of you create? Describe it to him.

He knows what the police are like but never has had to deal with them himself. He can’t be shady if he hasn’t avoided the police for a decade or so. What? He got tired of paying taxes…

He goes alone. When he sees you and the large demon smiling at you he starts to laugh again. It’s to the point where he’s wheezing and bending over. He wipes tears from his eyes afterwards. This is priceless. Please let him take a selfie with the both of you in the back.

He goes over to magically open the cell until the guard tells him he can’t do that and you guys can’t leave. He looks over at the guard and mumbles a few words in latin. Now the guard’s a duck, great. Nice going, Solomon.

When Diavolo tells him he particularly doesn’t want to go back the Devildom, Solomon doesn’t care. He can do what he wants as long as he can take you back with him. But when you tell him to help you convince the Prince to go back home, he sighs.

He threatens Diavolo about calling Simeon to come get him and the redhead is glaring at him but still walks out the cell. Great! Now everyone can go home!

So about that the phenomenon….

SIMEON

Three words: What the fuck?

How did any of this happen? When did any of this happened? What do you mean it happened today? The day’s barely ended! You got into a car crash? Are you okay?

Voices his concerns, deeply. Makes you feel so guilty about what happened today you start crying while the jail phone is pressed against your ear. Diavolo can only rub your back as he listens to Simeon thoroughly explain to you on why what you did was wrong and that you’re lucky he isn’t Lucifer.

He then hears Diavolo’s “Maybe calling Simeon was a bad idea.” Oh. Now he’s really upset. Doesn’t understand how Lord Diavolo allowed this to happen. You could have died, he’s not ready to see you in the Celestial Realm just yet! He tells you to pass the phone to the Demon Lord and you can’t imagine what Simeon is telling Diavolo that’s making him so pale. It’s your turn to rub his back.

When you get the phone back, Simeon tells you to sit tight and he’s coming to get you.

When he does get there, the frown on his face makes you feel even more guilty than on the phone. You could even Diavolo go stiff beside you.

When the guards tells him that the both of you aren’t allowed to leave, he’s super close on letting the both of you suffer the consequences. Yet, he tries to make the guard more lenient by guilt tripping him too.

When he hears that Diavolo doesn’t want to go back, it doesn’t take much for him to convince the Prince to go back home. All he does is glare at him and the redhead is walking out the cell with nervous chuckles.

When the three of you go back to the Devildom, he makes the both of you explain to Lucifer and Barbatos as to what happened within the last hour and why he had to go and pick you up.

TAGS: (sorry this is really long.. also don’t mind the grammatical errors I wrote this on my phone and actually less than 24 hours)

@beels-burger-babe

@mammonsemptycreditcard

@obeythebutler

@minteyeddevil

#obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?#obey me brothers #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me headcanons #otome game #crack headcanons #crack taken seriously #crimes #diavolo please why can’t you just behave?#diavolo and mc adventure number one #a study of firsts: a series

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crowfootwrites · 4 years ago

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Los Guardianes | Part V [Nestor Oceteva x Fem!Reader]

Ok, I promise there's a comedown from all the adrenaline after this! And very soon we will see characters other than Cristóbal lol.

Warnings: mentions of blood, drugs, and domestic violence; police interactions; language | Words: 1,900+

Taglist: @chibsytelford @megapeacelovemusic-blog @broiderie @est1887 @mveggieburger

Part IV of Los Guardianes

As you thundered down the alley, you glanced over at a wailing Cristóbal, splashes of crimson quickly drying across his arms and t-shirt from where you had carried him.

“It’s gonna be ok, Cristóbal, alright? I promise. Just hang tight,” you shouted over the strained whining of the engine. He quieted, shaking violently in his seat, but you turned your attention back towards the road, quickly reaching the end of the alley. You made a sharp right, having no idea where to go, but hoping to find a main street quickly.

Luck appeared to be on your side. You kept your eye on the rearview, but you didn’t see anyone behind you yet. You came up on a main street, mostly empty of traffic, and made a sharp left, immediately flooring the accelerator again. Your eyes flickered to passing signs, looking for anything you recognized.

“Fuck!” you growled, squeezing the steering wheel as you passed a sign for the Sun Bowl, panic rising in your chest as you realized you were in El Paso, Texas. You had no idea how you were going to get all the way back to California without getting caught, either by your kidnappers or by police, although at this point, you would have preferred the police. But you also had plenty of experience with dirty cops, and if your kidnappers had brought you here, of all places, it seemed likely that the police would be in their pockets.

You whipped past a sign for I-10 northbound and made for the onramp, revving the engine to merge into traffic. You darted immediately into the fast lane. Traffic was relatively light, but you hadn’t yet decided if that was good or bad. Your eyes flicked keenly between the road in front of you, your odometer, and the traffic behind you, watching for signs of a tail. It seemed like you were clear for the time being, but you hesitated to get too comfortable. It wouldn’t be long before the shattered back window drew some kind of attention.

Taking stock of your surroundings, you realized you had an almost full tank of gas. You wouldn’t be able to make it all the way back to Santo Padre on one tank, and you had no idea how you were going to pay for another. But you relegated that to the back of your mind, a concern for later. There was a balled-up hoodie in the backseat, and you stared blankly at the rosary swinging from the rearview. The glove compartment was empty.

Your eyes tracked the nearest freeway sign, realizing I-10 would take you into New Mexico. From there, you could head towards Phoenix. You didn’t love the idea of staying on a major freeway for so long, but it was the quickest way to get where you were going. From just south of Phoenix, you could take smaller highways towards home, and that suited you better. But the feeling of being chased propelled you forward; you were constantly pushing the odometer and scanning of your surroundings.

You reached New Mexico without a problem, but without a solid plan in place, you sped through it. As you careened down the highway towards an empty desert horizon, you heard Cristóbal’s breathing begin to calm. There was no chance of your pulse slowing or your body settling; you sat on the edge of the driver's seat, your thighs and core constantly clenched, ready for hell when it came.

Around two hours after you left El Paso, you were rapidly approaching Deming, New Mexico, and by then your brain was shouting at you to stop. You wanted to try to find a gas station to get yourself and Cristóbal cleaned up, in case you did get pulled over. You also wanted to check the trunk. While you had certainly been making good time, a sneaking suspicion nagged at you, one that questioned why no one had come after you or appeared to have reported the car stolen.

On the far edge of Deming, once you had passed through the center of the city, you followed signs for a gas station that looked, from the highway, to be mostly empty, in the middle of an empty stretch of commercial buildings and vacant lots. You guided the car towards the back of the gas station lot, behind the building, where you breathed a sigh of relief that there were bathrooms on the exterior of the building. You pulled into a parking space and only once you had scanned your surroundings did you get out. You went around to the passenger side door and guided Cristóbal out, grabbing the hoodie from the backseat.

The lock on the bathroom door was broken, so you pushed your way in, gagging a little at the stench. The sink was filthy, but the water ran clear, and you quickly rinsed your skin, watching the pink-tinged water swirl down the drain. Flashes of the man you killed flickered behind your eyes whenever you closed them, bile rising in your throat. The gnawing in your stomach reminded you that you hadn’t eaten in almost 24 hours. The adrenaline had kept the hunger at bay, but suddenly you were so hungry you felt nauseous. You helped Cristóbal wash his face and hands, then pulled the hoodie over your soiled shirt, zipping it all the way up.

Back at the car, you popped the trunk and your mouth fell open.

“Oh, fuck,” you groaned. Six bricks of cocaine were packed into the back of the small trunk, along with a duffel bag. You supposed that was why no one had reported the car stolen. It made you feel a little better that the cops wouldn’t necessarily be looking for you, but if you did get pulled over, you’d be fucked. You dug through the duffel bag, finding it full of clothes, and your heart lifted when your fingers skimmed smooth leather. You pulled out a black leather wallet, flipping it over in your hands. There was no ID, but there was a singular twenty dollar bill in it, and that would have to do.

Cash in hand, you tugged Cristóbal into the gas station store with you, grabbing a couple of protein bars and a large bottle of water, wanting to hang on to enough money for gas down the road.

You planned to dispose of the cocaine out in the middle of the desert, so you hightailed it out of Deming. A little less than an hour later, you took a tiny offramp and followed a deserted road past a dilapidated gas station out into the barren desert. You pulled the car off into the dirt, sending a cloud of dust up around you.

“Wait in the car,” you told Cristóbal gently, who nodded at you with wide eyes.

Pulling the sleeves of the hoodie over your hands, you dumped the clothes out of the duffel bag and packed the drugs into it, zipping it up. Careful not to touch anything with your bare hands, you slung it over your shoulder and hauled it towards a thick patch of scrub brush several yards from the road. Dropping the bag behind a clump of brush and prickly pear cacti, you booked it back towards the car, heading immediately back towards the highway.

You were approaching Gila Bend in Arizona as dusk gathered over the skyline. You had already gotten off of I-10 and onto the smaller highway that would take you to Yuma. From there it would be an easy drive to Santo Padre, one you had even made before. You had every intention of driving through the night, desperation fluttering in your heart at the thought of home. You were hungry again, and you could hear Cristóbal’s stomach grumbling from the passenger seat, but you were dangerously low on gas.

Pulling into a small gas station in Gila Bend, you went inside the store to pay, bringing Cristóbal with you. When you came back out, your breath hitched in your throat and you froze. A police officer was standing beside the car, inspecting the shattered back window. Flashbacks flooded your brain and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force them out. Through the rapid swirling in your mind, you felt Cristóbal squeezing your hand hard, the touch pulling you out of your trance. Immediately, your mind went into overdrive, laying out a plan.

You approached the car, schooling your features into a timid expression.

The burly, dark-haired officer looked up curiously at your approach, and you caught the slightest softening in his eyes as he studied you and the child clinging to you. He looked young and green, fresh on the job, and you wanted to use that to your favor.

“Good evening, ma’am,” he said, hands authoritative on his hips.

“Evening,” you murmured, dropping your gaze meekly.

“You know it’s illegal to drive with a busted window?” he asked sternly.

You let all of the stress of the last couple of days pour into your brain, breaking the dam behind your eyes. Tears tumbled freely over your cheeks as you looked back up at him and he startled slightly at the sight.

“I’m so sorry, officer,” you sniffled. “My son and I, w–we came from El Paso, trying to get away from my husband. He smashed it as we were leaving. I’m just trying to get us to California so we can stay with my brother.” Your voice caught on a sob, cracking on the last syllable.

The officer’s stance softened and your heart lifted just slightly. His inexperience was showing.

“Who is this car registered to?” he asked.

Your chest tightened as you prayed he wouldn’t run plates or ask to see documentation. “It’s mine, sir,” you whispered, meeting his eyes with your most sorrowful look. “He just didn’t like that we were leaving.” You hoped that you looked wretched enough to prevent him from asking too many questions.

The officer pursed his lips, his thumb lightly tapping his utility belt. “Where you headed to in California, ma’am?” he asked.

“Palm Desert,” you lied smoothly, letting your lower lip tremble for good measure. “I have family there, sir.”

The officer hesitated as he considered what to do next. “And you’ll be safe there?” he asked. “Does your husband know where you’re headed?”

“Probably, sir. Th–they’re the only family I have. But they’re going to help me file a protective order against him. And... start the divorce process,” you mumbled, shuffling your feet in the dirt. You felt a quick pang in your heart as you said the words, ones that weren’t too far from true in another time.

Perhaps sensing that it was a good time to lay it on thick, Cristóbal tugged on your hand. As you glanced down at him, he reached his arms up and you pulled his weary form into your arms, depositing him on your hip.

The officer studied the pair of you intently, then sighed. “Alright. I’m not going to write you a ticket, but once you get to Palm Desert, you need to get that window fixed, do you understand me?”

You nodded fervently. “Thank you – officer, thank you so much,” you stammered, hugging Cristóbal tight. The officer tipped his hat and turned on his heel, making his way towards his police cruiser. Your body felt limp as the rush wore off yet again. Your mind reeled, pushing the limits of what you could handle without sleep. You needed to get home, and soon.

You slid into the driver’s side seat and slid Cristóbal over, helping him buckle his seatbelt.

Praying for an uneventful last leg of your journey, you pulled away from the fluorescent lights of the gas station, headed yet again towards the moonlit horizon.

Part VI of Los Guardianes

#mayans fx #mayans mc #mayansmc #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva imagine #nestor oceteva x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans fanfic #mayans mc x reader

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sunmoonandeddie · 4 years ago

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feelings are fatal (17/24)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader

word count: 3,346

summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

chapter warnings: swearing, violence, creepy men

masterlist

a/n: HEYYYYY HAPPY TWO YEAR BLOG BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!!

Bucky’s heart was pounding as he finally shook the last of the Hydra goons that had been chasing him, glancing every which way just to double check.

He didn’t feel good about this.

It hadn’t even been ten minutes since the two of you had gotten separated, and he hated it. Granted, he always hated being away from you, had since you were fifteen.

Back then it was because he didn’t trust the Red Room instructors. Now it was because he was in love with you and being away from you made him feel like a part of his heart was missing.

Speed walking towards the entrance of Coney Island, he dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed Pepper’s number.

“Oh, my god, thank god. What the hell is wrong with you?” Pepper demanded angrily of him. “Do neither of you know how to answer your phones? Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He could hear his blood pumping in his ears. “We had to separate so I could try to lead the bad guys away, but they just… disappeared. I’m heading for our meeting spot now.”

Morgan and a few other kids were babbling in the background about how their day had gotten cut short, but he knew that the littlest Stark would understand better than anyone else once they explained to her.

Pepper was suspiciously quiet for… a long time. A long, long time.

“Pepper?” Bucky whispered, his voice cracking.

There was an unspoken question between them.

What if he’d fucked up?

Should he have stayed with her?

What if they’d gotten to her?

And one that was looming over his head, heavier than ever.

What if he never got to tell you how he felt?

“I’m here,” she said reassuringly.

“What if…” Bucky’s heart cracked inside of his chest. His throat was closing up with each passing second, his flesh palm sweaty. Keeping his grip on his cell phone was becoming a challenge. “What if I n-never g-get to tell her h-how I feel?”

“Don’t think like that.”

“God, I’m so fucking stupid,” he cursed as he made his way to the aquarium. His eyes flickered around the crowd, almost hoping he’d see the two women from earlier. They would’ve recognized you and might’ve seen you.

But there was no sign of them.

“Those fucking special skills or whatever would really come in fucking handy right now,” he cursed. With the way people were parting like the Red Sea in front of him, he knew he probably had his less-than-friendly expression on.

His Murder Face, as you called it.

Or his Resting Bitch Face, according to Sam.

Bucky ran his vibranium hand over his face as he tried not to panic. For one, he hadn’t even gotten to the meeting spot yet. Most likely, you were there waiting for him and he was worrying over nothing. “Tony and Natasha will haunt me forever if I let something happen to her.”

A sigh resounded over the phone. “You didn’t let something happen to her, Bucky. Hell, we don’t even know if something is wrong with her yet. But they both know that you have… you have literally devoted your entire being to taking care of her, protecting her. You did what you thought was the best option in the moment. And maybe… Maybe there was no getting out of that ambush without something happening to one of you.”

Rounding the corner to the tunnel, his heart stopped inside his chest.

You weren’t there.

“Bucky? Bucky? What’s going on? You there? What’s happening?”

It was like the world around him had gone fuzzy, and all he could hear was a ringing in his ears.

You weren’t there.

You weren’t there, and it was all his fault.

He told you to go to the tunnel.

How fucking stupid was he? The tunnel was possibly the worst place he could’ve told you to go to. It’s closed off, a literal tube with water all around you except two very small exits that were easily blocked.

What had he done?

Slumber had come easy for you for once. You were so exhausted, even your bones weary, from dancing all day. And by all day, that meant for over twelve hours because of your sadistic new instructor.

The last one had been… disposed of.

You’d woken at sunrise as usual and gone straight to ballet, only for the instructor to not let you go after the normal three hour class.

The rest of the girls filed out of the dance studio, some glancing back at you in curiosity.

There was no worry in their eyes. It was every girl for themselves these days.

If you thought real hard, you could remember a time when you all looked out for each other. You would braid each other’s hair, give a warning if any of the instructors or Madame B were near. If someone didn’t wake up when they were supposed to, the girls would shake her awake and help her get ready on time.

But that time was no more.

Those that ran the infamous Red Room didn’t like when their… students banded together. Things were better for them when you all hated each other and sought ways to sabotage the others.

It made you more likely to kill during a sparring session, and they only wanted girls who were willing to go all the way.

“Is there something you needed from me, madam?” You asked, your hands folded behind your back, spine straight, your chin high.

Good posture had been beaten into you within a week of arrival.

You didn’t forget a lesson like that anytime soon.

The instructor was new to you girls, though you had been told she wasn’t new to the Red Room. She’d been one of you, once upon a time.

One of the few who had survived to graduation, and then lived long enough after to be brought back as an instructor.

“I’m told you’re a prodigy,” she drawled as she slowly walked towards you, her platinum blonde hair pulled into a tight ballerina bun much like your own. While all of you girls wore black leotards, hers was a pale lilac, a shimmering rehearsal skirt tied around her waist that swished around her thighs. “That you are Madame B’s new pride and joy… Though, just based on your dancing, there is absolutely nothing to be prideful of. It is a surprise to me that you haven’t been… taken care of.”

The implication was clear.

Just based on that morning’s class, she thought you were bad enough at ballet to be killed.

Was it possible she just wanted you executed now? Was she about to do so?

Even though Madame B would be pissed, there were more girls that they could train. She’d only be upset for so long before she’d have a new prodigy, a new pride and joy.

Before the Soldat would have a new trainee.

Before your Soldat would have a new trainee. All the other Soldats could have all the trainees they wanted, but your Soldat, your Seven… The thought of him training another girl made bile rise up in your throat.

“Do you have pointers for things I could work on, madame?” You asked, shoulders tensing as she circled you. Like a vulture ready to scavenge a dying animal.

“I simply thought I could lend you some extra practice time,” she said, a sickly sweet smile spreading over her lips as she looked you up and down. “And don’t worry about Madame B and your other instructors. I already let them know that I wanted extra time with you today.”

The way she was speaking was setting off alarms in your mind.

“Perfect,” you said clearly, not letting your fear show. The instructors could smell fear and would use it against you until your heart stopped beating.

“Do you know the role of Aurora in the Sleeping Beauty ballet?” She asked, eyes cold. When you nodded, she chuckled. “Good. You’ll be dancing it on pointe, start to finish. Now.”

You were shocked when she then turned and started the music, but you did as she said.

Now, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty is his longest ballet ever, at almost four hours long.

And you danced all of it.

“Below average,” the instructor said, glaring daggers at you. “Again.”

You needed water desperately, your lungs fighting for air as you pretended to be unbothered by having done that by taking slow, even breaths.

But you had to do it again.

And again.

Every time you finished, she gave some comment about how your dancing was shit, how you’d never be good enough.

At this point, you wished she would simply kill you and get it over with. You were exhausted and your muscles felt like they were going to give out at any moment.

“MALEN’KAYA!”

You fell out of your pirouette in your shock, gasping as your ankle twisted and you fell to the ground. “Fuck!”

Your Soldat stormed into the dance studio as you looked up, eyes wide.

When had he gotten back? He’d been on a mission for the past few days, and fuck, you’d missed him something fierce.

“Soldat,” the instructor breathed out as she stopped moving, staring up at him with blue eyes. “Remember me?”

“Yes,” he said, glaring at her like she was a pile of dog shit he’d stepped in.

She moved towards him, her hand coming to rest on his chest. “I was hoping to see—” She was cut off as he raised his hands to hold her face. The harsh woman looked so… soft for him. “I missed you. Did you miss me?”

“No,” he snarled, his voice dropping almost an octave. “You should’ve thought twice before touching my malen’kaya.”

The light that had been in her eyes when she first saw him quickly disappeared as she realized she was totally, and utterly, fucked.

Your heart caught in your throat as he so easily twisted her head, a loud snap ringing through the air. He let her limp, lifeless body fall to the ground with a thump before turning and rushing to you. The darkness that had been in his face was long gone as he pulled you close, his hands running over you to try to find sources of injuries.

It took you a moment to realize he was speaking, your ears ringing as you stared at the dead woman on the ground.

“—you okay? What the hell happened? Who allowed this?” He asked, talking a mile a minute as he checked over you. Once he finally got to your pointe shoes, he took in a shaky breath. “I have to check,” he said as he reached for the pink ribbons tied around your ankles.

In the two years since you’d known him, you’d never seen his hands shake like they were.

Your eyes locked in on his face, his brows furrowed and his cheeks flushed, as he tentatively untied one of your pointe shoes. He slowly slipped it off, his breath catching in his throat as he looked at your foot. It was only when the second one came off that you finally looked at the damage.

Well… You were sure your feet could have looked much worse after dancing for over twelve hours, but… It still wasn’t pretty.

“I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt that bad,” you lied, trying to soothe him.

He was usually much more composed than this, his face harder.

Even when he was feeling a bit nicer, a bit softer, it was nothing like this.

The Soldat shook his head, looking absolutely pissed. “You don’t have to lie. Never lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” you insisted. “But that might be because right now, they’re numb, so I can’t feel anything at all from about my ankles down. But that does mean I didn’t lie.”

You were attempting to joke with him, lighten up the mood a bit. However, he definitely didn’t seem to be taking the bait.

When you glanced over at the windows, for some reason you were surprised to see how late it was. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he drawled as he scooped you up, leaving your pointe shoes behind as he carried you to the locker room. The man was somehow almost completely silent as he set you on a bench and grabbed a first aid kit out of what seemed to be thin air, before gently cleaning away the blood.

Water was dripping somewhere in the locker room, the droplets hitting the tiled floor with soft clinks.

“You were gone,” you whispered, eyes trained on his face. He was still so handsome, even with the frown lines that were starting to appear. Not that you could blame him, everything he’d been through would more than warrant a few wrinkles. “You were gone so long…”

The Soldat’s eyes were soft, despite being the color of the ice that coated the windows. “I know… I can’t stand being away from you, but if I didn’t go… They’d find some way to punish me.” His rough flesh hand cupped your cheek. “And I think they’re starting to catch on that the best way to punish me would be through you, malen’kaya.”

For a second, you thought he was gonna kiss you. From the way his eyes flicked down to your lips and back up again, you could’ve sworn on your life.

But then he took in a deep breath.

And his hand left your cheek.

You tried to push down the disappointment that welled up in your throat, biting your lip.

“Come on, malen’kaya,” he said as he finished wrapping up your poor feet. “Let’s get you to bed.”

The other girls were already sleeping when he carried you into your room, each one of them with a single wrist handcuffed to the bed frame.

“Hate knowing that you’re locked here all night,” Soldat said, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he approached the only empty bed in the room. “It’s like… putting a lark in a cage. I don’t like it.”

“I know,” you said. “But… It’s just how it is.” You looked up at him with bright eyes as he laid you down and tucked the blanket in around you, making sure you were nice and cozy before he took your left wrist and cuffed it to the metal frame.

“Get some sleep,” he murmured, brushing his metal fingers along your cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Oh, God…

Everything hurt…

Why did everything hurt?

It was like your head had been shoved under water, but your eyes were too heavy to open.

“—gotta take the video and send it.”

“How do we know he’ll come?”

“Oh, he’ll come. He’ll always come for her.”

Who was that? The voices sounded vaguely familiar, but not quite.

“His precious malen’kaya.”

You slipped back into unconsciousness even as you fought the darkness coming over you, slumping down again.

The clock ticked obnoxiously loud as you sat in the diner booth, your knee pulled up to your chest. A cold cup of half-drank coffee was sitting on the table in front of you.

You’d been waiting over an hour for him to show.

The lunch rush had come and gone, and the waitresses—in their rockabilly uniforms and roller skates—were shooting you pitying looks.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” you huffed as you got to your feet and slammed a crisp twenty dollar bill on the vinyl table top. “He asks me on a fucking date and then doesn’t fucking show. How fucking typical.”

It had only been two days since the mission where he’d asked you out on a date. Your ankle was wrapped, and you were under strict orders to rest.

So, of course, you’d dragged yourself out to this diner that he insisted on taking you to.

Well, meeting you at since you really, really didn’t want to deal with the awkwardness of riding in the same car.

If you were being honest, it hurt. A lot. You’d gotten your hopes up over the past two days, tossing and turning at night as you dreamed of what would happen on your date. Would it go anywhere? Would he end up being the love of your life?

You hadn’t had a crush on anyone since…

Well… Since your Soldat.

You missed him so fucking much.

And he wouldn’t have stood you up.

“Fuck Steve Rogers.”

Your face was flushed as you headed home, storming through the streets of Manhattan to the Avengers Tower. You needed time to stew, and the subway would be too fast.

“I should’ve just stayed home and taken that fucking bubble bath,” you huffed as you got in the elevator and rode up to the residential floors. Even if it had been meant to be a casual first date, you’d done your hair and stressed over your makeup, wearing your nicest pair of leggings and sneakers that didn’t have mud on the bottoms.

And even if the plan had been for it to be casual, you’d been looking forward to flowers and a kiss on the cheek, stealing a fry from his plate and maybe playing footsie under the table.

Just a little.

Like other girls got to do.

The elevator music was getting into your head, and there was no doubt it’d be haunting your dreams. But when the doors opened onto the common area floor, you were just about ready to burst into tears.

Because Steven Grant Rogers was sitting at the kitchen island and eating a sandwich as he laughed at some joke Rhodey made.

You couldn’t believe him. Was this his plan all along?

Steeling yourself, you straightened your spine and walked with purpose, planning on walking right by without even acknowledging him.

But of course, that wouldn’t be your luck.

As soon as Steve caught sight of you, he froze, his blue eyes going wide. Breathing out your name, he quickly scrambled to his feet. “Wait! Wait! Please! I’m so fucking sorry, I completely forgot!”

“It’s fucking fine, Rogers. It’s clearly a sign that this is was a bad idea in the first place,” you said, your voice cold enough to freeze him again.

“What?! No! Please, I’m just…” He groaned as he followed you onto the elevator that would take you up to the other residential floors. “I just had three meetings before noon and completely forgot! That doesn’t mean I don’t want this date with you!”

Taking a breath, you turned on him, glaring at him like he was a piece of dog shit on your shoe. “You know what the cherry on top of this is?” You asked with a laugh. “My first fucking date of my entire fucking life, and I get stood up. Fuck you, Rogers. Fuck. You.”

You’d successfully shocked him, and left him looking like a guppy, his mouth hanging open as he watched you leave him standing there.

When you came to again, you actually found the strength to open your eyes.

The room around you was like every stereotypical hostage room you’d ever seen in real life, and in movies.

Almost like the one Olivia Pope had been in on Scandal.

Though, you had a feeling that this one was real and wasn’t just a fancy set in a warehouse.

“Where am I?” You asked yourself, trying to take stock of everything. “Okay. Head hurts. Expected that. Don’t feel any sharp pains… so he probably shot me with a tranquilizer and not a bullet… Which is probably better for my chances of escape.” It was so fucking cold, your entire body was trembling. “No phone, so no way for the others to track me. Same clothing I was in… so at least there’s that.”

Your voice died as you heard movement beyond the black steel door in front of you, watching as it slowly opened. Your heart sank as you realized who was standing in front of you.

“It’s been too long, malen’kaya.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

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Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby. Day 24: That’s A Wrap

Warnings: Bad Language words

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: And here we are, the final instalment of our Ransom advent. I have had an absolute ball writing these, although this one was a struggle as I’m a little down at the moment about my other blog and losing all my previous works. However, it’s Christmas Eve so I’ve got some prosecco, gingerbread and I’m ready for Santa.

Huge thank you to @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @ohthankevans13 for their amazing chapters to, and thank you all for reading.

Merry Christmas everyone.

The credits to National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation started, signalling the end to the film and you stretched and looked at Ransom, grinning.

“That was nothing like what happened to me with the lights.” He drawled as he turned his head to look at you, blue eyes locking onto yours.

“You’re lying to yourself, Ran.” You shrugged with a giggle. “You know, I think Hugh Griswold has a ring to it.”

“Eat shit, Y/N”

At that you laughed and swung your legs down to the floor from where they has been resting over his as you lay on the couch. “Think I’m gonna take a bath and get in my new jammies.”

“What’s the point?” Ransom turned to you. “I’m only going to strip you out of them later.”

You completely ignored his suggestive comment, because really, who were you trying to kid? It was as much a forgone conclusion he’d have you naked and crying his name later that evening, as it was that he was going to end up arguing with his parents over dinner tomorrow. Yeah, that wasn’t exactly something you were looking forward to but thankfully your parents were going to be there to help you play peacemaker.

“The point, dearest hubs of mine, is that it’s Christmas Eve and it’s a tradition as you well know that we get new jammies.”

“Mine better be tasteful.” Ransom looked at you and at that you simply shrugged and stood up. “I’ll call you if I get stuck in the tub.”

“How long you gonna be?” Ransom asked

“Does it matter?”

“In a word, yes. I need to wrap your presents.”

You blinked and then snorted “I thought after last year you were going to use a gift wrapping service at the Mall?”

“I did for some.” He shrugged. “But there’s a something that only arrived yesterday and-“

“I knew it!” You shook your head. “That package was for me!”

“No, it was for me. To give to you. Now go, piss off for your bath.” *****

Once you were out of the way Ransom, knowing you would be at least an hour, grabbed himself a scotch and sat down in the living room, flicking through some news from the Country Club about the New Year’s Eve gala, and a few other emails on his phone. Once he had finished, he refilled his glass and headed to the spare room where he had hidden your gifts in a locked suitcase. You were a pain in the ass for finding them and then trying to pick at the corners to see what they were and after last year, when you’d totally ruined the surprise of the new pair of Louboutins he had spent ages agonising over, not to mention the fact you’d blatantly been expecting the La Perle bra and panties, nor were you overly surprised at the three piece Louis Vuitton luggage set.

Nope, he was taking no chances. He was excited this year, too. He’d bought you a gorgeous Tiffany necklace and bangle set, one you’d been eyeing up in the Mall a few months back, along with some high end make up only available in two stores in the entire of Boston, a huge bottle of Chanel perfume and a stupidly expensive espresso machine which had caught his eye. It matched the colour scheme in your kitchen and eliminated the need for stupid filter papers as it operated off pods and he’d even had a demonstration from the spotty assed teenager in the shop so he was perfectly geared up and fully aware of how to use it. But all that was wrapped already, it was what had arrived yesterday that he was most excited about. It was an order all the way from a little tea shop in Covent Garden you had dragged him to earlier in the year, on the trip to London during which you had fallen pregnant. It was a custom made wooden box full of specialists teas which, try as you might, you had failed to find anywhere back home once you had run out of the ones you had bought back with you. Yup, He’d come a long way from the days of buying you crotch-less underwear, sex toys and lube. Making his way back into the living room he placed the gift wrapped items under the tree and then grabbed the sheets of paper, tape and scissors and dropped onto the floor by the fire. Some other shitty movie was playing on the TV now so he changed the channel over to a replay of the Christmas Special for the Great British Baking Show that you’d gotten him hooked on, before tossing the remote aside. Placing the box on the paper he began to wrap. It should have been easy. It was a fucking box but after four attempts the only think he’d managed to wrap were his fingers together with tape about sixty times and the box was no closer to being wrapped than before. In a huge bout of frustration he grabbed the paper, scrunched it round the box and taped round it about twenty times. It looked like it had been wrapped by Edward Scissorhands during an epileptic fit, but whatever. With a final groan of frustration he tossed the box under the tree, and then frowned as the TV turned off. Ransom glanced round for the remote but it was nowhere to be found. Cursing he stood up, checked behind all the cushions and even retraced his steps through the house but nothing. “For fucks sake!” He growled, hands on his hips as he stared round the living room. He had definitely had it before as he changed that shitty movie off before he wrapped... Oh, hell no! “Fuck my mother fucking life!” He spat out as he stalked towards the package he had just tossed under the tree and grabbed it. ***** By the time you came back downstairs Ransom was lounging back on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table, drink in hand. He looked up at you and snorted, taking in your fluffy Christmas themed Mini-Mouse pyjamas as they stretched over your now rather huge bump. “Do you want a drink or something, Princess?” “Erm, you know, I think I��ll grab a chamomile tea.” You nodded after a while and Ransom smiled and stood up. “I got something for you.” You snorted. “I’m not falling for that again.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t mean my dick, Y/N.” He took your hand and led you to the kitchen where you spotted a shiny, deep brown box. Frowning you looked at your husband before you walked over to it and gave a gasp when you saw the Nelson and Norfolk Tea Company logo carved into the wood. “How did you get these?” You managed to stutter as you opened the clasp and pulled up the lid to reveal four rows which were then split further into three, each square of different flavoured, individually packed tea bags, lined with a deep purple velvet. “You know how. I had them shipped over.” “Ransom, these...” You struggled for words as you turned to face him, blinking back the tears that had sprung forth from his thoughtfulness. “I love them, thank you.” “You’re welcome, baby.” He smiled genuinely as you moved and wrapped your arms around him and stood on your toes to give him a soft kiss. “Wait.” You cocked your head as you pulled away. “Were you wrapping these?”

“Yup.” He nodded “But I had an incident involving the remote and no spare paper so you get them tonight instead.” You gave a chuckle. “Just another in a long list of real life tasks you have taken on and spectacularly failed at, huh?” “Hey, some of them I’ve managed.” He huffed and you smiled, running your hand up through his hair. “I know, and I never said this before but I’m so touched you actually tried, even when you failed, it shows you care.” “Of course I care.” His face grew serious as he looked at you. “You’re my wife and you’re carrying my kid. I’ll always care about you both, Y/N, even if I’m not the best at showing it.” “You show it in your own way.” You smiled gently, leaning up to kiss him again. “Merry Christmas, Ransom.” “Merry Christmas, baby girl.” He smiled, his lips capturing yours in a deep kiss, both of you stood in the kitchen as the snow fell outside. He might be a huge man baby, but he’s your huge man baby. And you wouldn’t change him for the world

#real life tasks with ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader

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pynkhues · 4 years ago

Note

.... any succession fic recs? 👀

Yes!! I haven't read a lot for it yet, but some of the stuff I've read has been staggeringly good. I'm generally more into gen fic in this particular fandom, but have enjoyed some Stewy x Kendall, Gerri x Roman and Naomi x Tabitha too.

A few recs under the cut!

“I wanted to get out. From under all this. Take the money and run.”

Kendall tells Stewy even though he knows he’ll never get it, not like Naomi does. He’ll never understand the crush of it, the heart-stopping head-fucking fear of failing a tyrant. Kendall’s been ignoring the shape of it for a long time, putting pieces of it together in the back of his mind in total darkness like a blindfolded man. It doesn’t matter that one day his dad will die. It doesn’t matter about the money or the hostile takeover or the stolen files or any of it. There’s no running. Kendall’s Logan Roy lives inside his head.

Stewy laughs. Stewy laughs for a long time.

“There is no out, Ken, what the fuck are you talking about? You were born this and you’ll die this. You are what you are, and what you are is a fucking Roy.”

Kendall hates him, for a moment. Lightning-strike furious. What the fuck does he know about any of it, about his dad’s swinging dinner plate-sized hands, about getting 24% name recognition in reliable international polling, about puking every time you think about a car swerving off the road in the rain. About finding out that you can do something unthinkably, unimaginably terrible, and it doesn’t matter to anyone you know but you. There’s a scar on his arm that no one else who hasn’t already been told how it got there can ever know about, and he’s sick of it, and it’s not fair. He hates Stewy for a moment because Stewy’s right.

“I wanted to do the right thing, Stewy, for once in my fucking life.”

Stewy laughs again, more briefly, and the predator flash of his eyes in the neon of the motel sign is a torture all its own.

‘There is no right and wrong, Ken. How the fuck do you not know that yet? Not for people like you. Like us. There’s shit you get caught doing and there’s shit you don’t.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You really, really fucking don’t,” says Ken, and fuck, there it is. The road less travelled, that only he has ever driven on. The path he’s down where Stewy can’t follow. That place beyond Stewy Hosseini where he never thought he could go.

“You’re not telling me something, and when I find out what that is, and I will find out what it is, Kendall, don’t you think I won’t, so I am warning you that when I do find out I am going to be righteously fucking pissed,” says Stewy, and if Kendall thought those were a predator’s eyes before—

“Yeah, you will,” says Kendall, because he knows exactly how perceptive Stewy is. Exactly how weak he is. Exactly, precisely what both of them are.

And treat this night like it’ll happen again by postcardmystery. 8k words. Kendall x Stewy. Post s2. (CW: internalised homophobia, some homophobic language)

I tried to pick a shorter excerpt, but I literally couldn’t, this fic is so. good. The voices are pitch perfect, and it’s got this incredible build to it overall that goes back and forth between time and point of views and just rips your heart out. The premise itself is pretty simple – after the press conference at the end of 2.10, Kendall calls Stewy, and they drive through rural America while Kendall has a breakdown, and it’s just - - unspeakably good. I love it so so so much, I have no words.

r/roysucks Connor’s gf just posted on Instagram (instagram.com) submitted two months ago by webbedscrum_2279 23 comments share save hide report

[–] DM_ME_SAMESMAIL 40 points two months ago I too like to escape to my yacht in the Mediterranean when my family and I are on trial for covering up rape and murder. permalink embed save report reply

AITA for accusing my father of multiple crimes on his own news station? By amleth 3k words. Gen fic. Post s2.

And now for something completely different – epistolary fic which is just reddit news threads of the Roy family drama. I love an epistolary fic and this is just totally charming, and made me laugh a lot out loud.

“You’re quiet,” she observes. “That’s a first.”

“Yeah, well, the Turks beat it out of me. Gave you a run for their money.” He waggles his eyebrows. “So what is this? Whips and chains? Are we doing the whole boat-sex thing? I heard Shiv and Tom are looking for a third —“

Gerri finds what she’s looking for: a black leather binder. She drops it on the bed and begins paging through it, and Roman cranes his neck enough to recognize that it’s just full of documents, not like, dick pics. “I’ve given some thought to what you proposed a few weeks ago, and I agree that we should make things official in some way,” she says, and he blinks.

“Uh,” he says. “Which — what part of it?”

“Take a look.”

Gerri closes the folio and hands it over. It’s deceptively heavy, and the print on these pages is way too fucking fine, he thinks, paging through it. “Is this some kind of, like, Fifty Shades of Roy sex contract? Because it’s not that I’m not into it, but I think there’s a strong argument for going paperless —”

“Strictly speaking, this isn’t legally binding,” Gerri says. “Just something I threw together with regard to our business arrangement going forward. But with no respect to the family — the past few weeks have really illustrated that no one should take anyone at their word right now. Give me a little more than your word.”

Evacuation strategies for a yacht on fire by devourthemoon. 11k words. Gerri x Roman. Post s2. Explicit.

After the events of s2, Roman and Gerri fake being married as a professional alliance, only, y’know, maybe it’s not so fake. This fic is just so, so much fun, and messy in the best possible way. The author nails all the character voices, and the sex scenes are just the right amount of hot and ridiculous, and I just love it all a lot too.

Kendall estimates it will take an hour for the first articles to go up. Some rapid-fire blog without oversight—the New York Post, maybe, or wherever those Vaulter hippies have skulked off to—will slap a catchy headline on it and report his words verbatim. Give or take a gif of his face when he switches to script number two. New York Times, Washington Post, AP, those fuckers take longer. They like to bleed the story like Middle Ages plague doctors for its marrow, fact-check and add context and analysis and as many backlinks as their servers can handle. Still, a couple of hours, and his face will be plastered on every major news outlet. His voice will play over the nightly talk shows. He’ll trend on Twitter. A few more days, and he’ll be the star of analysis segments, podcasts, weekly briefings. Maybe, fuck it, maybe he’ll trend on Twitter again.

It’s been years since Kendall read Shakespeare. But that shit sticks with you, gets under your skin and emerges when you least expect it, like eczema or Keynesian economics. He knows how the media will spin this. Kendall Roy Attacks CEO Logan for Years of Corruption. Prodigal Son Disrupts Family Legacy to Restore Credibility. That’s how Hamlet ends, right? And Macbeth, Lear, Othello, Romeo and Juliet, even Titus fucking Andronicus. The spilled blood sinks into the ground, the seedlings sprout forth from the soil, and a new castle is built on the bones. Order out of chaos, or at least close enough an approximation that the tabloids will buy it.

Legacy for profit by owlinaminor Post-2.10. Kendall Roy. Kendall through Shakespeare analogies – just - - ooooof. It's a beautiful, lyrical character study that weaves through Roy family history and teases at a future none of them are even sure they want. It's gorgeous writing.

For the next few days Shiv would have to keep the pressure on Kira like an open wound because there were other women, victims that Nate’s people were going to find one by one as soon as that phone call disconnected. Mo was her father’s friend, good friend, for a long, long time. Nate and Gil, Sandy and Stewy, too many sharks in the water and the share price probably dipped to a new low but she would never check a stock ticker. Her husband’s nerves fraying at the edges on national television. She had promised a woman she’d never met before that she would kill roughly one third of the top male executives of her family’s company. Her company.

The last look Rhea gave her before she shut the car door was concern close to fear—no longer the same woman who heard their pitch in the safe room, who laughed with her at Argestes. Rhea had only looked into the abyss; she got cold feet and she didn’t even know what it’s like to grow up in it.

Her family’s company is hers, will be hers. Even from a whale fall, new life would spring.

Feed his flesh to wayward daughters by reogulus. 2k words. Shiv Roy. Set during 2.09.

This entire fic is set around Shiv bribing Kira not to testify, and god, it is so good. It’s bleak and rough, and really hones in on the complex ground Shiv walks as a character. It's another brilliant study of what it takes to be a Roy, and the way they make the awful choices in order to fulfill this legacy that they don't even know they want.

Kendall sets down his fork. “So. Tell me. Is it everything you wanted? Is it what you thought it would be?”

Roman stills. He never does that. He’s constantly a menace in motion, slouching and fidgeting, worse even than Kendall at his amphetamine peak. “What? The view from the tippy-tippy-top?”

“His regard.” Kendall wipes his mouth with the edge of the white cloth napkin. It comes away pink from the steak. “Dad. He’s all yours now.”

Roman still hasn’t moved. Finally, he lurches, like corroded machinery come uncertainly to life. “Yeah, man. It’s fucking tight as hell. I love every beautiful daddy and me moment I was a good enough little boy to earn.” He snorts. “Fuck you.” His face goes curiously slack then, like something Kendall’s own face would do. An intermission in the performance, an energy cut. Something genuine finding its way to the surface. “Why don’t you tell me. When you got everything you wanted, how the fuck did that make you feel?”

Nauseous, is the first word that springs to mind. Sick. Scared. I’ve never had everything I wanted, there’s that. I’ve never once had a single fucking thing I wanted. There’s that, too.

Interim leadership by arbitrarily 2k words. Roman + Kendall. Post s2.

I love Roman and Kendall scenes generally, but this one which features Kendall and Roman meeting for the first time a few months after the press conference in 2.10 is just a bit magic. The push pull dynamic that's just inherent to them mixed with the genuine affection and brotherly love is really special, and arbitrarily embraces both in equal measure. It's a great little fic.

There are lots more of course, and I'd also recommend checking out other works by these authors, but I hope this is a good place to start! :-)

#hbo succession #succession fic #fic recs #welcome to my ama #kendall x stewy #gerri x roman

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mca-attack21 · 4 years ago

Text

The Case of the Killer Lightbulbs

Hi guys! This mini-series is based off an episode of criminal minds called ‘Amplification’. You can find more of my writing on my Masterlist here.

Working alongside Sherlock and John had put you in numerous compromising and even dangerous situations. It was not a rare occurrence to find yourself in harm’s way, but that never discouraged you. The way you had always viewed it was that John and Sherlock had gotten on fine before you, and they would continue in that fashion if for some reason you were incapacitated. Furthermore, you felt that there was no nobler way to die than saving/protecting the lives of others, especially those you cared about. This mindset of yours never faltered, even during “The Case of the Killer Lightbulbs” as John named it on his blog.

You were at the market when you got the call informing you to stop what you were doing and go outside where a car would be waiting for you. You were used to it by now, Mycroft was known to be the dramatic type. The ride was long and you wondered what the nature if thus case would be: Murder? Blackmail? Theft? National Security? Or, was it just Mycroft trying to get information on his little brother again? Whatever your thought process was during that car ride, it did not prepare you for what was coming next.

You were taken to Scotland yard which was swarming with various officials from detectives, to the military, to the CDC. You were led through to a room where Mycroft, John, and Sherlock sat.

“Okay, you may go now, shut the door on the way out,” Mycroft said to your escort.

As she did, he passed a folder to you, Sherlock, and John and began debriefing, “Yesterday 24 people checked into local area hospitals, all of them with the same symptoms, all of them had been at the same park around 4 pm yesterday. Now at just after 8 am, 14 of the 24 are dead. Lung failure and black legions among a myriad of other symptoms.”

“Anthrax?” John asked.

“Anthrax doesn’t kill this fast,” you replied.

“Unless it has been genetically altered,” Sherlock surmised, “What do we know about this strain?”

“The spores are weaponized, reduced to a spiral ideal that attacks deep in the lungs. They are both odorless and invisible. The normal antidote is not effective against this strain,” Mycroft explained.

“Why exactly are we here?” John asked.

“We believe that this was a trial run, but don’t know what for. An outbreak in London would be detrimental, so we’ve called you lot in,” Mycroft replied, “You have full access to any resources you deem necessary,” he added handed you special badges, “Finally, here is Cipro, we don’t know if it’s effective against this strain, but it’s worth a shot. I wish you the best of luck.”

You, Sherlock, and John downed the pills and were left alone in the office as Mycroft had to step out.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you said, still trying to get your head around the idea.

“It isn’t the first time, and most definitely won’t be the last,” Sherlock replied.

“So, where do we even start?” John asked.

Over the next two days, the three of you visited the hospital and spoke with remaining victims, analyzed the strain in the lab, located a second but smaller attack that happened weeks ago but only affected 4 people, and started to narrow in on a suspect list. You also created a list of possible targets, however it was too large to do any good. The three of you had come to realize that you were looking for someone with a significant background concerning biological agents. You knew that the person you were looking for most likely was in cohorts with the military or CDC and had a relation with the bookstore that was the target of the first attack. It wasn’t long before Sherlock had discovered who was behind it all.

This led you and Sherlock along with a team from the CDC to the home of Alfred Wilson to further investigate. John was at the hospital lending his medical assistance. And Mycroft and his men went to Wilson’s workplace and other known frequented locations. You and Sherlock stood outside as you waited for the all-clear.

“While they are doing that we should probably take a look around,” Sherlock decided.

The two of you walked towards the back of the house looking for anything out of the ordinary. Sherlock was distracted by a phone call from Mycroft explaining that the lab was clean and Wilson was still MIA. Sherlock turned to inform you of this news but realized that you had wandered off.

“Y/n?” he called and looked for you. He found the path that you must have followed. “Y/n,” he called again. He saw the shack and darted towards it, “Y/n!”

That is when you came into his line of vision, “Sherlock get back! Get back, get out of here!” you shouted frantically locking the door.

“Y/n? What are you doing? I don’t-” he started, but then he saw the broken container of white powder and the ventilation system. This was where Wilson had developed and even tested the strains. And you had already been exposed, which meant that if the Cipros was ineffective as it most likely would be against this mutated strain, you had less than 24 hours.

He called Mycroft who got the necessary people there. They wanted to get you out and to the hospital as soon as possible, that was not your plan though.

“Y/n, the CDC is here, they are preparing to extract you,” Sherlock explained through the phone.

“There’s no point, I’ve already been infected, I might as well work to solve the case,” you argued.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mycroft interjected.

“Sherlock, take me off of speakerphone,” you ordered.

“Alright, tell me what you see,” Sherlock humored you.

“Alright, well first off Dr. Wilson is dead, so we can rule him out. There are two workspaces and two sets of handwriting on the papers. So he either had a partner or protege,” you paused as a fit of coughing took over, “I’ve read through everything in here, the cure isn’t here. But maybe they can take the spores and reverse engineer them.”

“Okay, Y/n. Is there anything else that sticks out to you?” he asked.

You were going to continue but the coughing took over again. You hung up the phone to spare Sherlock. By the time you caught your breath John was entering in an orange hazmat suit.

“Orange is not your color,” you joked, “On a serious note how are the patients at the hospital?”

“Right now, let’s focus on you,” he redirected, “how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” you replied.

“Are you sure? I could give you something to ease the pain,” he explained.

“I’m fine and I don’t want to take any narcotics,” you snapped.

“Okay, no narcotics, got it,” he confirmed, “how can I help?” he asked.

“I read through all of the papers and none of them talk about the cure, but I think that it has to be in here somewhere. Probably hidden considering that Dr. Wilson was a former military scientist. He was paranoid and most likely tried to protect the cure from his partner. So look for something innocuous, something that you wouldn’t expect,” you explained, starting to feel slightly light-headed. That is when your phone rang again.

“Yes Sherlock?” you answered.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“That is irrelevant, why’d you call?”

“Mycroft said that Wilson’s co-workers were unaware of him having a partner. Is there anything else you can tell me about him?”

You went over to the desk again scanning for what you missed. It was like it was on the tip of your tongue, but your brain was too foggy to see it.

“Just list off everything that is on their desks,” Sherlock said wishing that he was in there with you.

“Wait, I’ve got it,” you replied, “Dr. Wilson was a professor. He has syllabi and a framed picture of him teaching. I even read a paper that he graded, or so I thought. He wouldn’t let just anyone into his lab but clearly,” you started before being interrupted by a wave of painful coughing, “he valued himself as an educator. What if the second desk wasn’t a partner, but a student? And the paper, it was formatted like a thesis. See if Mycroft can crossmatch the list of Wilson’s students and/or students at the university that Wilson taught at with past employees or customers of the bookstore.”

“Okay, will do,” he said hanging up.

“Y/n, you did good, now we need to get you to the hospital,” John tried.

“Okay,” you conceded knowing that there wasn’t anything else you could do there. A couple of CDC workers came and took you to a decontamination shower that they had set up, with John close behind.

“John, go help Sherlock,” you instructed.

“I’m gonna stay here and see you off to the hospital,” he insisted.

“I am about to be stripped down and bathed, my pride can’t take the thought of you witnessing that. Besides the way I see it, you can either stay here and watch me die or go out and prevent it from happening.”

“If you’re sure,” John replied, feeling torn.

“Go on,” you reassured him.

———————

Tags: @fanfictionsilove @delightfulheartdream

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list :)

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #sherlock imagine #sherlock imagines #bbc sherlock imagines #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock #sherlock fic #sherlock holmes imagine

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ddaenghoney · 4 years ago

Photo

Series: Flora

Part 24

masterlist link in blog description

After spending more than a decade establishing a career as an acclaimed actress, you decide to go on a sudden hiatus while also discreetly moving to a new townhome, renting out the second room to your old friend from high school: Kim Taehyung

Pairing(s):

Kim Taehyung x Y/N

ft. Lim Jaebeom x Y/N

disclaimer: any character depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respective idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Social media/Fake Text AU, Roommates au, somewhat Slow Burn relationship (or is it more oblivious to lovers ?), Actress!Y/N, Flower shop owner and model!Taehyung, fluff, drama(bc it’s me), romance, angst (updated as needed)

Necessary story written piece beneath the cut!

wc: 4017

Chapter warning(s): Heavy themes of loneliness and quite a bit of angst. Emotional breakdown by means of a lot of crying and a small moment of nearly hyperventilating. Optimistic ending.

You look down at the ended conversation displayed on your phone, thumbs hovering over the device but you know you have nothing more to say. Sighing, you let it fall to your phone and glance your head out at the grey outside that the car travels through. The clouds took a break from the constant showers that covered the city, but you do not doubt they will continue again, probably the second you step out of the vehicle.

“You can just take me home instead of stopping by that food place.” You speak up to your manager’s assistant who has recently been driving you around for scheduled activities. When Manager Yang is not able to attend things with you, the assistant is definitely there instead. You wager to make sure you don’t do anything more to grind the nerves of the company, but you never have asked the question directly.

“Are you sure? The weather doesn’t seem as bad as a few minutes ago.”

“Yeah, I have some leftovers at home I’ll eat instead.” The explanation exists only to pacify his confusion, because after that conversation you really have no interest in eating anytime soon. Without conviction your eyes search between passing buildings for signs of the sun breaking through any of the clouds, but as you expected there is no such light. If there had been any hope of the storm ending, the production team would not have called off shooting for today.

You don’t mind the weather for that fact, but at the same time it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth that you can only rely on unruly weather to give you a dent of the day back to yourself. If you try to think about how long it’s been this way, your mind would skim back years and years. Early on when you were still in high school and quickly garnering all of the roles in films you could, you didn’t mind the workload at all. Everything was still new, and admittedly going through that part of your life with fame attached to it felt like a grandiose thing.

The glittering of it all wore off a while ago, and letting your head fall back against your seat cushion, you realize just how exhausting it all is. But what else is there?

“Thanks for the ride.” You wave to the assistant as you exit the vehicle in front of the small gate that surrounds the townhome. Your company may know the address somehow, but you certainly are not willing to give out the gate code, much less a key, so you get out on the curbside. You’re relieved when he doesn’t loiter to make sure you get in safely, because the sooner you can stop thinking about everything the sooner you can have a semblance of a clear head.

To your surprise the rain comes again after you’re under the cover of your entryway instead of starting to pour directly on your head. Standing there for a moment, you watch the droplets fall in a humid frenzy that is familiar for this time of the year. This odd hour of the day is much earlier than people head home from jobs, so the neighborhood is quiet with inactivity, only seeming to be populated by you and the millions of droplets that see only a moment of you before they’re gone from your sight into puddles on the ground.

You stretch out your arm to breach into the shower, feeling the water collide with your skin as you continue watching the spectacle of it all. Almost, you’re able to enjoy it completely; take in the beauty of nature, and the serenity of your tiny front yard that’s enclosed in its own bubble. But as your eyes scan the area, your arm tenses when you catch the well-tended to flower beds that line the front gate.

You remember everything you wish is not reality.

Pulling your arm back, you turn on your heel and type the code to your door, entering in haste. The lights inside are off, and the space is quiet, almost without the sound of the showers outside. Without consideration you simply allow your bag to fall beside you on the floor while you flick your shoes haphazardly in the same general direction. It’s not unusual for no one to be home in the middle of the day, but as you step deeper the space feels uncharacteristically empty.

Miscellaneous items are decorated in their little mess around the area, but they’re all your own things that clutter. In your moment of recollection, you glance back to the front door as you realize you didn’t trip over any of Taehyung’s shoes on the way inside. Your lips part at the knowledge and your hand clutches against your top as you turn to walk into the kitchen.

Your line of sight wanders over the countertops, then to the small table beside the door out to the back, but you find nothing. You turn back and stalk into the living room once more, eyes searching quickly to the coffee table, then end tables-- any surface of space you could.

In that instant of finding nothing your eyelids grow hot, and your throat hitches, but you hold back any noise by biting your lip. You don’t have the right to be this upset if he’s already gone without a word of goodbye. You made your choices-- you’re living the consequences.

Air nonetheless escapes your mouth in a high, choppy gasp. You thought there would be more time than the four days it's been since you told him he should leave, since you typed all of those things you didn’t mean and left tears all over your phone screen. You shake your head, forcing everything back again, because you don’t have the right to feel upset about this. You don’t, and you keep repeating that to yourself, but what difference would it make if you started bawling about it here anyways?

You put your hand to your face, rubbing your eyes to stop tears from beginning, but when the sentence plays in your head you’re unable to stop them when you inevitably mumble to yourself,

“I’m all alone now.”

Only a couple escape your ducts, before you take in a deep inhale and remind yourself that this is for the best. If Taehyung has nothing to do with you, then his reputation will not be bothered further, his flower shop won’t run the risk of being singled out on a gossip form, and his life will continue in its peaceful path just like he wants.

You rub the tears from the corner of your eyes, finding sight of his mug in its usual spot beside the couch. As you take a step towards it, your eyebrows knit wondering if he forgot it but you find a beverage still within it, though mostly gone.

The front door’s entry alert causes your shoulders to jolt in surprise, and your body to turn as it opens wide to let the melody of the rain flood your ears once more. From the cloudy outside that’s a lighter blue than the inside of your house, Taehyung’s figure seems enveloped by a dull brightness.

The hollow feeling in your chest fills with the thrum of your heartbeat. You watch as his lips pout while he looks down at your discarded items, then his head lifts up upon the recognition, startling with a sound of surprise when he sees you.

“I didn’t know you were home,” His words stumble out while his hand searches on the wall and successfully presses on the light switch. “What are you doing?” He asks, frowning in confusion of the certainly odd situation he wandered into.

Taehyung knows that you are not the most organized person on the planet, but your shoes finding their way to the designated closet is the example for him that he never manages to follow. So to see them in a mess on the floor beside your bag, Taehyung thought the placement to be abnormal and maybe somewhere in the back of his mind before he looked up he even felt worry.

“Ah, I just,” You start in a small voice, before dipping your head away from his view. Taehyung takes notice of the aversion, then latches onto the remembrance of your last text conversation. “I got off work because of the weather, so I’m here. Forgot to turn the lights on.”

“I see.” He responds simply, with the slightest nod of his head. Taehyung slips off his shoes finally, and enters deeper into the house, trying his best not to let questions in his head breed into a field that will be left unanswered by you and filled in with guesses by himself.

“What about you?” Your words come making him stop just beyond where you remained as he followed the path to his bedroom. Taehyung can’t help glancing towards you, just a couple feet from him, but appearing so far away as your head faces at a downward angle to the couch beside you.

“I closed the shop early today.” He explains in a low voice, because he does not want to say why he’s come home. He still doesn’t want to think about everything falling apart. And for a moment that fact causes him a burst of frustration because of all of those unanswered questions so his tone shifts coarsely when he gives a curt reply, “Going to sign a new lease.”

Taehyung expects nothing from the sentence, but watching your hand tighten atop the couch makes him hesitate from going to his room. It’s the smallest action, and nonverbal at that. He knows everything you said about distrusting him and about his importance being nothing more than an irrational measurement you never meant, so why does he still cling on to the smallest sign. One that means nothing.

He shakes his head softly, feeling consumed by the tension. He walks down the hall to his room, leaving you there. Turning away just in time for the sparse rain drops in your eyes to drip in silence onto the leather your hand clings to.

Rather than reaching to wipe them away, you simply let the tears fall, thinking it better to ignore them so they altogether stop. For all of the relief that built in your chest at seeing him again, it ripped back away at his statement. You want to tell him he still has two weeks that he could stay, but you know that would only serve unnecessary confusion, and that it’s better if he leaves now while you’re still able to hold yourself back from confessing the insincerity of all the hurtful things you messaged him.

“Do-” Your shoulders tense at the pet name he stopped himself from uttering. Your lips tighten into a line, forcing away a frown as he continues after a moment, “Y/N, are you okay?”

Considering everything, you wonder how Taehyung even asked you that, knowing well that you’ve given him every reason to stop caring about you to even the smallest extent. But he’s sweet and gentle like the flowers he tends to. You muster a smile at this thought, and nod your head even though you’re facing away from him still.

Taehyung’s hand curls in response to your demeanor, wondering if you really have to look away from him. Does it bother you that much to even be around him? Because things were different only a week ago, it is nearly impossible for him to accept the situation at hand, but ultimately he just sighs, and starts a walk back to the front door, wearing a fresh shirt that’s different from the type he typically wears to work in the flower shop.

As he heads to the door, you recall the countless times he’s walked in and out, wandered around the house familiarly, like a necessary puzzle piece to the space. You can think of the many failed recipes created in the kitchen that led to races to the front door to get the food deliveries afterwards. And you can remember the time you held the door open for him when he struggled with his arms full of little flower starts that would bloom soon if they are maintained after he leaves.

He’s leaving.

“Tae,” Your voice barely sounds like anything but a weak squeak because of the emotions clogging up your throat. He stops to turn back towards you like a habit-- his eyes focusing on your person easily, though the irises are admittedly not as cheerful as all the times of the past. “You-” Your nails dig into the leather of the couch, like the logic you’ve taped up in your mind tries desperately to stay together. But the throbbing pain in your heart wins over your mouth, “I’m so sorry.”

“What-” Taehyung’s sentence drops away as he notices the glittering on your cheeks, and he turns completely. With every nerve on his body beginning to prickle in worry, he takes a step in your direction on impulse, pausing only when you shake your head, releasing more tears down your skin.

“I’m sorry. I’m so selfish-- I really can’t do this.” The words dribble out in a frantic mumble as you finally begin to wipe away at the tears. “I know I need to let you leave-- I know you should; I can’t do this though. I don’t want you to go, I really don’t-”

Your breath hitches as you’re all the sudden pulled into a strong embrace. Without hesitation your arms cling to his shirt, while a sob muffles into the fabric. Taehyung’s arms encompass you with the same feeling that living with him gives you: safety.

“Calm down, Y/N.” Taehyung soothes your trembling frame with his fingertips clutching tightly on your shoulder blades, fastening you to this space that was stable. Giving you a place to belong again.

“I didn’t mean any of it, Tae,” You croak between gasps as your lungs fight for air amidst your sobs. “I trust you more than anyone-- you’re the most important person to me, Taehyung. Please don’t go.”

“Then why,” He starts the question, but then your rushed sentences finally register to him properly. The fact that you said you know he needs to leave. Taehyung breathes in as the realization of it sets in. You were trying to get him away so he wouldn’t be involved anymore. For his benefit, not because you ever wanted that.

“I-,” You cough, clutching onto him tighter as the sobbing leaves your throat thick. You want to explain everything, and make sure that he hears your apologies as many times as necessary, so desperately you try to speak up again only for Taehyung to hush them away.

“Stop for a bit, dove.” He tells you, causing you to find a grasp at peace just from him addressing you with endearment once again. “I’m not going to walk away-- you don’t need to rush. Let’s sit down, okay?”

As you sit on the couch with your fingers rubbing onto your temples, Taehyung stands in the kitchen fiddling with objects that you hear clatter around. You think little of it, simply counting seconds with the inhales and exhales of your breaths, elongating them so as to ease away the rampant swarm of tears and emotions. The prickling in your head must be from a mixture of shock and embarrassment, you decide, becoming increasingly aware of how vividly everything came flooding out.

When Jaeboem texted you days earlier, you had to stop replying. You feel bad still for leaving his series of texts pleading with you out of worries for being left on read, but when he verbally acknowledged how alone you must be, you couldn’t look at the words any longer. That aspect of your lifestyle needs to be kept in check or else you would have to look at everything that’s hollow in the world that you made for yourself.

For following a dream that you were passionate about, in the past you anticipated a cover of happiness washed over your life once you reached the level of notoriety that would keep acting jobs flooding in. But for years of your work and efforts to simply amount to you walking into a lifeless house, with the few people around you about to walk out, you couldn’t let yourself see that because it would be the one thing too much to bear. Even if you enjoy acting, the present gives you no sense of fulfillment outside of your job, which in itself is starting to be cracked with holes as well.

“Here.” Your eyes break from their lack of concentration to watch Taehyung settle a mug that matches his on a coaster in front of you. The steam filled with the warm scent of honey and tea leaves. “Does your head hurt?”

Meagerly and barely do you nod, finally removing your hands from putting pressure on your temples to take hold of the mug. Careful to keep your skin from directly touching the hot ceramic, you balance it inches from your lips to blow gently.

“Thank you.” You mumble, taking small sips so as not to burn your taste buds. The drink is light, but soothing to your throat that is ravaged from your outburst. “I,” Your head jolts as you recall, nearly sloshing around the scalding tea, but Taehyung’s hand aids you in steadying the mug as you speak in worry. “I stopped you from meeting the leasing office-- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Taehyung shakes his head, very slightly nudging the mug so that you drink more. As you finally give in despite your frown, he continues in a quiet voice. “It’s not like I really wanted to go anyways.”

As you glance towards him with an uncertain hope glinting in your eyes, Taehyung smiles gently and is unable to stop his thumb to graze over your cheek where tear treks remain. In the void of words, the shower outside rages on with a hum of thunder only relaxing the tension in your shoulders. As his hand leaves your skin, you break eye contact to again sip at the beverage while Taehyung eases more into his seat beside you.

Without speaking, he simply rests his head on the cushion, letting you revitalize yourself with the drink. He arranges his thoughts with his newfound information, and is almost upset that he never contemplated any of it before. His friends too had commented repeatedly how strange and out of character all of the texts you sent him were, especially Jeongguk who was fully convinced the connection between you and Taehyung could only be genuine. Taehyung thought the same, and he could blame the surprise of it all for letting his rationality falter, but ultimately he feels disappointed in himself for not considering that this was the only way you found yourself able to protect him.

It’s true that if he continued to believe your words, the hurt would have been enough to start a gap of separation from you, and perhaps even if he reconsidered later down the line he may have pushed the thoughts aside to keep you from having to bother with the whole thing again. Or perhaps it is more accurate, he decides, that he may have not been willing to risk hearing you say everything to him all over again.

“Now you don’t want me to leave?” Taehyung breaks the silence with the small question, the corner of his lips quirking as the empty mug clatters on the coaster from your surprise from the bluntness. With furrowed eyebrows you turn to look at him, so clearly upset with yourself, that Taehyung doesn’t have the heart to tease you any further. His lips part to speak but in a small ramble you beat him to it,

“I never wanted you to. I just didn’t know how else to keep you from getting dragged into anything more than you have been. I know you don’t want anything to do with fame, and,” You shake your head as once again those texts replay through your head.

“Dove.” Taehyung’s hand covers over the top of yours as they fiddle on your lap, bringing you back down. “I understand now.”

Your frown remains, and your chest feels heavy once more because you know you really did hurt him, and yet he’s sitting beside you still and giving you a chance at explanation. You don’t deserve that.

“I should have let you go though.” Your eyes fall to your lap, watching as his hand squeezes over top of yours. You’re sure he doesn’t like your sentence. “Taehyung, I know you say that you don’t mind any of the baggage that comes along with getting linked to me in rumors, but you don’t know what it’s actually like to go through any of that. To have thousands of people you don’t know critique all the choices you make and constantly put their judgement on you just because they don’t like you or are bored-- it’s exhausting. Especially if you’re not even gaining anything from it. You don’t want to get into this lifestyle--and that’s fine, but it’s even more of a reason for you to distance yourself from me. I can’t control any of this as much as I want to, and you’ll just end up dealing with trouble because of it all.”

Without thinking, one of your hands turns upwards, taking a grasp of his gently.

“I do gain something from it all.” Taehyung says, ready for his eyes to meet yours when your head turns in confusion. “I’ll still be in your life.”

Your jaw clenches; heart beating too happily at his affirmation of it all. It’s idyllic and frankly all you would want to hear from him. Such a simple thing, yet the implication causes new, touched tears to collect in the corner of your eyes. Warmly Taehyung smiles at you, tugging you towards him so he can hug you, which you allow without hesitation.

“I know that you’re worried about me, dove, but what you’re telling me I’ve considered too. I may not have been that involved when I was a trainee, but I know the media can be ruthless and cruel, but I’d still choose dealing with that than not being with you anymore.”

“But why,” You pull a bit from him to look up at his face, frowning. “No one’s ever wanted to go through all of this crap just for me-- I don’t understand why you always pick to stay.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I care about you before you believe me?” He asks with a smile, cutting off any of your uncertain remarks by simply hugging you tighter and chuckling as you make a noise of surprise from the action. “Dove, I’m happiest living here with you. You mean so much to me, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. No matter how many times you ask me, you’re going to get this for an answer. You’re my friend, Y/N. You’re dear to me.”

Your hands meddle their way from between your torsos so that you can wrap your arms around him tightly. Taehyung smiles at the reciprocation, settling his forehead atop your head when he feels your body rumble from some muffled cries that somehow have an air of happiness to them.

You’re willing to accept his answer, no longer frightened of all the repercussions as you cling onto Taehyung as if he’ll drift away. Now you realize how content the world becomes with even one person willing to stay. Without the attachment of jobs, or the necessity to save face in front of cameras, Taehyung wants to remain where he is. You’re so thankful for the fact, but can’t properly express the gratitude through words, but he hums in response anyways, keeping you enveloped in his arms as he tells you peacefully,

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. Don’t worry.”

If you enjoy, PLEASE let me know!!

Tag(s): @atulipandarosee @jaienn @lemonteacyst@swanboysuga @kennedaddy00 @cribabieee@betysotelo18 @sherizaraiyah (if you would like to be tagged send me an ask to let me know!)

#taehyung #taehyung smau.taehyung fic #taehyung aangst #taehyung fluff #taehyung series #bts #bts imagines #bts fake texts #bts angst #bts smau #bts fluff #bts series #all #series flora

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redheadedteatotaler · 4 years ago

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3/24/21

So today Ryan at RK Outpost is finally giving us his input on the Forbes article, Doomcock is back with more gossip, our moment of the day is a rather lengthy Q & A with Gina and Soderbergh about Haywire, the gallery is very moving, and for our fan fic writers, a little something everyone can relate to. Also, there’s a brand new section I would love to hear everyone’s input on!

Now, onto your daily dose of Conviction...

Ryan with RK Outpost takes a look at the Forbes article, and points out, among other things, that this is proof that things are bad at Disney, now that MSM is starting to notice and point things out. He also has a moment when he clicks on the latest Star Wars video...and realizes that Gina’s supporters have changed their chant. And I agreed, might not be what you’re expecting to see, but it’s actually better.

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Doomcock is back with another look at how Disney’s doing in the wake of cutting Gina free. As one commenter put it, Darth Kennedy the Hypocritical is used to bullying her way around Hollyweird, as the actors are known for backing down because they’re too afraid of being blacklisted. She expected a fighter to be the same way, and is finding out the hard way that the worst thing you can do to someone like Gina, is back them into a corner.

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Things that writers know:

My words sound better coming from my hands, than my mouth

Writing was never a choice, it was an irresistible compulsion.

The hardest part is often sitting down to actually write.

Writing is zipping along through six pages in less than an hour, and then getting stuck for weeks on a single transition sentence.

Characters often start out as your own, but quickly tell you that isn’t how the story goes.

Sometimes your characters do the exact opposite of what you want, and you have no idea how to make them behave.

Being a good writer is 3% writing, 97% not getting distracted by the internet.

There’s also a new piece from @name1name1 out today!

Like Us by Name 1

Boska

Younger Boba

Kids Are Annoying in Any Galaxy

So yesterday I posted this gorgeous piece, from Mishi-Yana. I didn’t provide anything other than the name that appears on the artwork, because when I used the @ symbol in hopes it was their tumblr name, nothing came up. Today, I got contacted by the artist with their tumblr name, so I am rerunning the piece today with the tumblr’s name attached so that they can recieve proper credit. To see more of their work, check out their blog, here: @amaralanegra

This one will clock in as the longest moment I’ve shared so far at just over half an hour long.

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So today’s eyecandy (if the video wasn’t enough) is very moving shall we say...

So, I’ve been kinda toying around with adding some additional categories/sections. As well as some additional content to certain existing sections. I would love to know what people think....as it’ll be a way to judge whether or not I should focus on adding them to the newsletter. I’m also gonna be using this particular section on the occasion, when I have changes in store for the newsletter.

Social Media | I know not everyone follows all of Gina’s accounts, it would be a way to see a lot of her updates all in one spot.

Conviction Crew | This would be a weekly thing, like I’m already doing with the CaraDin writers, but would spotlight a Gina fan, instead of a writer.

Bi-Weekly Writing Challenges | Just something to keep everyone’s creative mojo going.

I am also looking into adding content to a subcategory for specific days of the week....like featuring writer resources on Monday’s for example.

Again, any input would be deeply appreciated!

Til Our Paths Cross...

#gina carano #the carano files

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raschuuuu · 4 years ago

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WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME BACK? // M.YG angst (Suga)

Summary: You finally had your debut with your girl group with Big Hit entertainment. That was your absolute biggest dream but what happens when you have to decide now? Do you want to live your idol life and let the love of your life go for it? Or do you decide for the life of your life?

Word count: 5k

Genre: angst

warnings: established relationship / swearing / soft yoongi / mentioning of breakups / mentioning of suicide/death

Pairing: Yoongi!idol x female idol!reader

A/N: Hello guuuuys! Today I hope very much that you will like this one here! I didn't get any requests so I want to say it again one more time: FEEL FREE TO SEND ME YOUR REQUESTS!!! 😟🥺It’s my second fanfic on this blog I worked very hard on it so I really really hope you guys will enjoy it. If you guys think I could do anything better or you have another preferences please let me know. I’d be very happy if you guys leave a like so I know you read it and liked it. Another note: English is not my first language I’m very sorry if you guys find any mistakes.. 💔

_____________________________________________________________________________

5th December 2020

What could be better than having a debut just before the year ends? My group and I were supposed to have our debut much earlier but that was postponed due to the COVID pandemic so it was complicated to have a debut this year but nevertheless our company managed to give us a debut before the year ends and I really have to say it's the best thing that could ever happen to me!

My dream has finally come true. How long was I a trainee? Exactly. Six years. Six freaking years I was hidden behind the scenes of my big and famous company. It feels really shitty to be in the shadow of two famous groups in South Korea. Don't get me wrong I'm a really big fan of BTS and TXT but we got tired of being told that we're going to make our debut but at the end we didn’t. I know the guys from BTS and TXT personally and we all get along super well even the other members of my group. But to be honest BTS and TXT couldn't wait for our debut to happen and finally it's here (y/g/n) finally gets the recognition.

31st December 2020

Of course our lives have changed dramatically since we made our debut. Of course it's much harder to go out alone now than before. Before I was a nobody. No one knew me but now I don't even dare to go alone to the convenient store that is just around the corner of our dorm. You might think I'm exaggerating a bit but no, unfortunately it's the truth. Nevertheless, I don't want to spoil my idol life. After our debut we had a lot of promotions and interviews. But even before that we didn't have much time because we had to shoot our music video and photo shoots and we were all sent to the hairdresser because our old look was officially bye bye. I’m happy with my new look I think I look so beautiful I can't believe what a haircut and a nice makeup can do to a person.

Today is the 31st of December. New Year's Eve! New year takes place in less than 24 hours! Where am I? I'm at this year's MBC Gayo DaeJeon. My first new year's eve without my family and officially my first new year's eve as an idol. I'm so excited I can't believe it I'm going to be on stage with my girls and I'm meeting other idols how exciting is that. I'm sitting in the makeup room getting my makeup done by our makeup artist and on the side our hairstylist is making me a high ponytail. I hope I'll look good. Dabi, the oldest of our group and therefore our Unni, has just finished and looks adorable. Miso sits to my left and is also getting her make-up and hair done. Hyemi is getting ready after me because she doesn't take up much time. She has the shortest hair of all of us. I’m sitting with my mobile phone in my hand and texting with my mother. Sometimes I wish I could be with her and with my father and my siblings. I miss them all like hell. I haven't seen them since before our debut. I can't wait to hold them all in my arms next time.

(eomma):

y/n we miss you! New year's eve isn't the same without you but hopefully you'll have fun on stage today. We'll all be watching you! Your dad and I your grandparents and your siblings so don't worry we're always with you! Good luck my child fighting! 🎉🎆

I notice how i get tears in my eyes but no I mustn't cry my makeup gets ruined. Just as I want to answer my mother i get a new text on my phone.

(yoongi):

I'm excited to see you tonight! You'll be great I believe in you.

By the way... I guess I didn't tell you that I'm dating Min Yoongi. That's right, Min Yoongi.

flashback

2014

"Y/n! We're about to meet BTS!" says Hyemi as I just walked into the dance practice room. What BTS? The group that made their debut last year? "Really why?" I ask looking at her confused. Apparently all new trainee male or female, are introduced to BTS because they want to give us some nice words and encouragement on our way as trainees. Just as I was about to sit down, the seven men came in the door. One after the other, they passed us by. Wow, these guys can count themselves lucky that their time is up. But one boy in particular stands out to me. He has red hair. Not too light and not too dark, a red that almost goes brown. He is beautiful.

I haven't really informed myself about who BTS is, of course I still have difficulties to remember their names, I just became a trainee before I didn't care who was a trainee here... but this man is beautiful!

Oh crap he looks at me. Why is he looking at me. Someone tell him to look the other way please I’m so awkward I don't know how to act when someone looks at me I better look the other way. The leader said some nice words to us they all wished us luck and said that they can't wait for us to make our debut and that when the day comes they're all gonna be happy and supportive! Really nice of them I never thought that they would do something like that. We all got up and bowed and said thank you, while BTS was about to walk out I saw the red haired boy looking at me one last time before he went out. Crazy man do I have something on my face stop staring!

2015

I started to get to know them better each and every one of them. I get along best with Hoseok and Taehyung. Every now and then we run into each other in the building and talk for a few minutes. We trainees also got to meet all the guys in person, they are all so nice and down to earth I don't regret it one bit that I joined this company! Jungkook is about my age and every now and then we have a few laughs together. Once you are in the company you are like one big family whether it is with the trainees or the staff. However I have not been able to get close to one person and that is Min Yoongi. I don't know what it is but every time he and I are in a room with other people it just gets awkward. I don't know what it is but every time he is near me I feel intimidated and just want to get out of there. We've never spoken a word to be honest maybe it's because he feels awkward around me too? I can't understand why he feels this way I always try to get along with everyone even if i don't want to and make everyone feel comfortable around me because I want it to be mutual. So what's his problem?

2016

I have heard from his members that he has a crush on me and gets shy around me which I totally don't understand because how can anyone be into me? Especially back then! I don't want to go into too much detail but I can tell you that after a while and with the help of Hoseok and Taehyung he and I started texting at some point. We had been friends for a long time but only online. We were both too nervous to meet in person and to be honest that had been impossible because he was busy as fuck and no one was supposed to find out that we were texting. BTS recognition grew more and more each year and he became busier and busier each day. I was of course very happy for everyone and one rainy day in the evening Yoongi appeared out of nowhere on my doorstep and confessed his love to me. I am still overwhelmed by it and it all feels so unreal and like it just happened yesterday, but I went for it and agreed to be his girlfriend.

back to December 31st 2020

For four years we have been hiding our relationship. Nobody knows about it the whole Big Hit staff doesn't know about it and neither do our managers the only ones who know about it are his members and recently my members. I didn't want to tell them until we made our debut together because I was too scared of being told off during my trainee time. But I have to say that the girls stand behind me and accept our relationship and they all swore they would take it to the grave with them.

I quickly turn down the brightness of my screen because there's too much danger of my hairstylist and makeup artist reading the text. I close my phone and put it on my lap. How much I want to answer him but I don't dare I can't answer him when there are too many people around me. After a while we were called and it was finally our turn I'm so nervous but we managed it all with flying colors and we were the topic of the evening.

In a few minutes it's already new year I'm ready and let 2021 come to me. At midnight Yoongi calls me and I answer the phone with joy.

"Happy new year y/n! I love you and I hope we will spend more time together this year even though it will be harder now." I smile to myself and say "Happy new year Yoongi... how is your shoulder? Are you resting enough? Are you eating enough? Are you sleeping enough? Are you in pain? If you are in pain then take a painkiller and go back to the doctor!" I can't see it but I can tell he is grinning and shaking his head. I don't let him get a word in edgewise.

"Don't worry I’m fine I just miss you you're the only painkiller I can take" - "Hahaha yah! You're so corny! I miss you too sweetheart I wish we had spent this new year together... I’m sorry it turned out like this!" I feel really bad because I know he won't be able to spend new year with his boys or me... To be honest we have never had a new year together except on the phone but this time it could have worked out! He is at home with his injury and if we wouldn't have had our debut then we would have had a first new year together after four years of relationship!

January 10th 2021

At the beginning of the new year our manager gave us our schedule plan at it looked hella busy! This whole January we would be completely busy we don't even have one weekend off! I can’t believe it how will I able to see my family or even Yoongi? I saw him at the first weekend of January we spent it together at his family’s house in Daegu behause to be honest that is actually the only place that we can go to a little far away from Seoul without having to worry that any of the staff could know or see us. My family also knows and loves him to death but with my family living in Seoul it’s complicated to take him there. Our manager left the room and I looked at Dabi with the ‘You and I bathroom NOW!’ look she understood and got up from her place and she followed me to the bathroom. We checked if any other person was inside when there wasn’t I said “What the fuck I’m I gonna do now Unni? How am I able to see Yoongi? How will I be able to even go out. I won’t even have time to take the fucking trash out from our dorm when it’s my turn to clean!” I yell. She stands there giving me a confused look. “What do you expect y/n? You chose to have this idol life you know its busy and complicated to have a boyfriend especially as a fresh debuted idol! Why do you think they won't let us have a relationship? I wish I could help you but I can’t. We’re gonna be busy as fuck!” she yelled back. “Psh shut your volume down unni!” she opened the door to see if there was anyone outside but there wasn’t.

I feel bad I really do. I don't want my members to be in trouble because of me that's the last thing I want. I hug her and apologize to her. I have to think of something I don't know what to do. I don't want us to be away from each other for too long what happens when he stops loving me all of a sudden? What do I do when he goes back to work then it will all be worse! Before I became an idol we could always see each other at the end of the day but now it will be impossible. I have to talk to him about it because one thing we promised each other is that we talk about everything because that's the only way a healthy relationship can work and such a complicated relationship we both have. I take out my phone and write him a message.

(me):

Yoongi. Tonight FaceTime date you and me?

In less than two minutes I already get my answer.

(yoongi):

of course!

evening

I turn on my MacBook and call him on FaceTime. After three rings he answers the phone and turns it off too so he doesn't have to hold it in his hand. He still has his bandage on and his hair is wet he must have been in the shower. He wears cute pyjamas and fight me or not but black haired Yoongi is the most beautiful Yoongi. I always fall in love again when I see him. Hard to believe we were so awkward with each other back then but this year is already approaching 5 years together. I could never imagine my life without him.

"Hey my darling" he says happily and smiles at me. I smile back and ask him how he is. He tells me that he is getting better every day and that during his time off he has found a lot of time for himself and his music and how much he misses the others. And me too, of course. "What's wrong with you?" he asks me when he notices that my mind is somewhere else. I think he took the Facetime date too seriously. He be sitting there with his cup of ramen. I just laugh. "Yoongi... I'm going to be busy all of January and manager oppa said that February might not be any better," I say and wait for his answer. He swallows his noodles and drinks a glass of water. "Does that mean we won't see each other this month?" he asks. I think he's a little disappointed I know him and I know his tones and his looks and I can hear my heart breaking by now. And how much I'd like to see you Yoongi. Every second every day. "No," I say, and then an uncomfortable silence descends.

“You know what baby it’s fine don't worry. I mean I wasn’t any better back then do you remember when I always used to be so busy? I never had time for you and I felt so bad. But you were there for me and you stayed by my side and you were and still are the most supportive girlfriend I could ever ask for. I think it would be unfair to be mad at you. I’m happy for you forever and always” well that was unexpected. I start getting tears in my eyes. I didn't think of this reaction not at all! I smile at him and say “Thank you baby... I will appreciate it I really do. But still I feel bad because especially in this period where you're sick I wish I could be there for you and take care of you. This debut was so unexpected I’m really sorry” - “Yah don't be sorry y/n. You worked your goddamn fine ass off to be where you're at right now be proud of you this is just the beginning. And it’s not like that we won't see each other ever again right?” he says. He’s right. He’s totally right. It’s not like we won't see each other ever again.

January 17th 2020

Well... seven days passed and we still haven't seen each other and we haven't talked since one week. We text every now and then cause I really only get to use my phone when it's night and we go back home but every night I'm so damn exhausted and tired that I forget to answer to his texts. I don't even have time to text my parents back or my siblings. I feel so bad I'm such a bad person. I miss them all so much. I miss my parents. I miss my sister and my brother. I miss my grandparents. I miss my boyfriend. I miss my boyfriend so damn much. I really didn't think this life is gonna be so hard for me. I feel like I've been put in the middle of a scale with my career on one side and my relationship on the other side and I have to choose one side or the other. I've never thought about breaking up with Yoongi ever in my life. Never. I just can't. I need this man too much. Even though we never have the most beautiful and perfect relationship and see each other very rarely, it's just the thought that I know there's someone in my life who loves me and accepts me for who I am that counts. He took me with my imperfections he put his career what he loves most in his life in risk to be with me and now that we are both in this situation I don't know what to do I feel bad and selfish for even thinking about it I don't want to make him feel like my career is more important than him or our relationship he doesn't deserve that he deserves the world and he deserves to be happy. But I love my career I love my job I love my members I love our staff I love our fans. Our biggest fear was not being accepted by the society outside especially now in this period when BTS is one of the biggest groups in the whole world and have a very big influence in the KPOP industry. We were afraid that society would think that since we are the first girl group to make a Big Hit debut in a very long time that people would think that we would mess with the boys heads or that there would be any rumors started between us and the other groups. But on the contrary people have been happy for us and love our music and us individually. I feel like Hannah Montana I feel like I am living a double life.

20th January 2021

"I know you are overwhelmed with the situation my child, I can imagine that it is very hard for you but you have to know what is best for you. You can't tell anyone from your company, you are a rookie, if they find out you had a boyfriend during your trainee time then it is even worse. I wish I was with you and could help you or just be there for you. I love Yoongi very much but I love you even more and I am happy with any decision you make. Just make the right one" my mother says on the phone. Tears have been flowing since she got on the phone but I don't want to tell her and I try not to sob but I know she can tell by my tone that I am crying. She is right. I have to make a decision. Yoongi is getting better day by day and soon he will be busy too he will go back to his daily routine and the other members. He will have comebacks he will have dance practices he will have to go to the recording studio he will have photo shoots he will do interviews and when the corona situation allows he will have to go to other countries and I have to do the same.

I love him to death and I will never love anyone as much as I love him but I am just not happy like this and you can tell me what you want he is not either but he doesn't let it show. Yesterday on the phone there was such an awkward tension between us it felt like I was making small talk with a stranger. Even though I might be the bad guy but one of us has to make the first move. I have wished and hoped that this day will never come but I have to do it.

23 January 2021

Yoongi told me that he is back in his flat in Seoul with his mother. Unfortunately he still can't travel alone so his dear mum went with him. I missed her too, she's the nicest and sweetest woman ever. When I imagine that I won't see her again either, tears well up in my eyes. But today I have to do it. Who would have thought that our reunion would be like this? Who would have thought that I would break up with him. He won't expect it but I have to do it. I’m cold and sick and I just want to go to bed and get the day over with. It's 11pm at night and we've come home after a long hard day. I look out the window and wait until our manager is out of sight.

My members know about my plans and of course have asked me a million times if I am sure and if there is no other way out. I am very happy that they are worried about me but I also feel bad towards them. I have been hiding it from them all our trainee years and when I told them they were all so good about it and even want me not to do it. But no I will do it I am young and want to concentrate on my career and what is coming up for us.

I told Yoongi that I would come, of course he doesn't want to because it's way too late but I said it was important and that we had to talk about something. When I said we had to talk about something he was quiet and then just said he would wait for me. I put on a hat and a thick jacket and the hood of the jacket and a mask and a scarf and go out into the high snow that has covered Seoul. His flat is not far from mine but still I have to take a taxi. I ask the driver to wait for me because I don't want to stay there long I want to get it over with quickly and go.

(me):

can you come down?

(yoongi):

why don't you come up?

(me):

I think its better when you come down Yoongi I don't want your mom to be worried or hears any of that were gonna talk.

He doesn't text back instead I just see the lights turning on from his window. A few minutes later he comes down. Oh my fucking lord he is so handsome. I want to run up to him and kiss him from head to toe. I want to be in his arms. I want us to go upstairs together and fall asleep together. I want to build a snowman with him. I want to be with him forever I love him he is the love of my life.

He comes up to me and smiles at me. He stands in front of me and we both don't say a word. His smile turns into a confused look he notices something is wrong. "Don't I get a kiss or a hug?" he asks me. My heart breaks into a thousand pieces. I would love to rip your clothes off Min Yoongi.

"I want to break up." Silence. Silence. Silence. Silence. "Yoongi say something?" I ask him. He says nothing. He looks at me with a blank look he is sad he is disappointed he is devastated just like me. "Yoongi please?". He does not speak.

"Yoongi, I'm sorry. I-i-I really love you I love you more than anything but I know that I can't give 100% in our relationship now. I just want us to be happy but I see that we are not. It could have been great during your time off but I can't be there for you... sooner or later it should have happened. I want to be with you but I can't anymore it was okay then but it's not okay now we're both famous you're in the biggest boy group in the world if anyone finds out we're together we'll be screwed. Especially me Yoongi. Female idols have it harder than male idols you know that. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time and I think this will be the best thing for us I-" he interrupts me.

"How dare you to tell me what's best for me? Do you have any idea what you're talking about y/n? Stop trying to tell me what's best for me when you know you're the best thing that's ever happened to me in my life god damn. I was going through a difficult time in my life and you were the only one who was there for me! And now you're telling me let’s break up because you're afraid people are gonna find out? And that they are gonna blame you? The fuck? Theres always two fucking persons in a relationship y/n! I also wanted that. I wanted you. Don’t you love me anymore? Why don’t you love me anymore? We hid our relationship for four fucking years why can't we hide it now?" he said yelling at me.

I am shocked and sad I want to die. I don't want to live in this life without Min Yoongi. But I know it's best for us I do it for him and his career too.

"Yes I don't love you anymore" were my last words before I left.

________________________________________________________________________________

A/N: damn y/n!!! did you just break up with the mf min yoongi? you better save your relationship! guys if you want a part two (with maybe a happy ending?) let me know! love you bye 🎀

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cuddlepilefics · 4 years ago

Text

Every step of the way

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Hyunjin

Caregivers: Stray Kids

TW: cancer (remember this blog is about fluff and comfort, we don’t do sad here....)

No one’s POV.:

It had been almost half a year since that fateful day, the day a doctor told Hyunjin he wasn’t as fine as he always thought. The dancer had pushed the thoughts as far away from himself as possible, maybe if he didn’t acknowledge it, it wouldn’t be true. His mom was the first one who learned about his diagnosis, urging her son to get treatment immediately. The doctor had advised to try chemotherapy first, prescribing a bunch of pills the dancer would have to take for three days in a row, wait for three months and repeat. Planned were four two six cycles, depending on how well the boy would respond to the treatment. Hyunjin’s day to day life now included frequent doctor visits, which he somehow managed to go to in secrecy. He had done two cycles so far and both had left him throwing up for days afterwards. Both times his friends had been there, comforting him and holding his hair out of the way as they tried to help the dancer get over his ‘stomach bug’ quickly. His hyungs prepared him light meals while the youngers cuddled him, not getting tired of the dancer’s movie requests as they watched the same few dramas over and over again with him. Little did they know.

Hyunjin knew he had lost weight, which was a miracle since he didn’t even weigh much to begin with. Dancing which was one of the things he used to enjoy most, suddenly didn’t sound as appealing anymore. His stamina was decreasing and he felt fatigued most of the time, dancing just seemed way too tiresome to be fun. Minho and Felix were the first two to notice their friend not being himself. The dance-line often practiced alone and Hyunjin’s lack of drive soon showed. His dance was lacking the usual energy and he called for water-breaks more frequently. Their concerns were often brushed of with simple statements like ‘I should have gone to bed earlier last night’ or ‘I’ve already practiced earlier’. Changbin had gotten concerned when they were fooling around backstage and he had picked the younger up, noticing how shockingly easy it was. Was the dancer on a diet? He certainly didn’t need to.

With the next cycle of his therapy approaching, Hyunjin knew he needed to talk to his members. Their schedule was packed and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up. The dancer had dreaded the conversation with his group, having to tell them he wasn’t ok and that he needed a break. He didn’t even know how to do it, the thought of calling a group-meeting making his heart beat loudly and his hands shake. Pulling out his phone, he quickly typed a short message and asked if they could all talk after dinner. That way he wouldn’t be able to chicken out again. It was only a few hours till the other members would come back from their individual practices. Hyunjin had settled for memorizing his lyrics and practicing his rap in the safety and comfort of their dorm. Rubbing at his face and patting his cheeks a few times, he tried to get himself to focus on the lyric sheets in his lap, the letters and words muddling together and losing their meaning as his thoughts were everywhere but on the task on hand.

The time passed a lot faster than expected, and soon there was a knock on the door before Seungmin poked his head in to tell Hyunjin dinner was ready. The dancer sighed, putting his lyric sheets away. He had been less productive than he had hoped he’d be. Sitting down between Seungmin and Changbin, he accepted the plate Chan handed him. The leader had meant well, piling up a generous amount of food. Hyunjin frowned, he didn’t feel too hungry to begin with and the anxious knot twisting in his stomach certainly didn’t help his appetite. Mainly pushing the food around with his chopsticks, the dancer rearranged the words in his head and tried to figure out how he’d start the conversation later. The members noticed him spacing out but left him be, knowing their friend would talk to them later. The majority of the group was already done eating when Hyunjin hadn’t even finished half of his meal. He simply helped clear the table when the others were done, dumping the rest of his food into the trash since he didn’t feel like eating anymore than he had already forced down. “You really didn’t want to eat any more?”, Chan frowned, he didn’t want his dongsaeng getting even skinnier than he already was. The younger shook his head and walked over to the living room couch, sitting down while he waited for the others to join him.

They were all gathered and Chan sensed the nervousness radiating off of his dongsaeng, so as the leader he decided to start: “You wanted to talk to us, Jinnie? Go ahead, you have our attention.” The dancer cleared his throat a few times, scrubbing his sweaty hands against his pants to dry them. “I-I have cancer”, he blurted out, his mind blank and the carefully prepared speech forgotten. There was no reply, just eerie silence. His friends had heard him but were unable to grasp the meaning behind his words. Minho was the first to shake off the shock, patting the younger’s shoulder: “Not too bad, you got me there for a second.” A tear rolled down Hyunjin’s cheek and he shook his head. “Damn, you weren’t joking”, Minho cursed, pulling his dongsaeng into a tight hug. He didn’t want to let go any time soon, so he didn’t. Chan bit his lip, he knew something was up but he didn’t expect this. “We kinda figure something was off about you, just… ohh well. How long has it been?”, he sighed, slowly letting the news sink in. Avoiding the leader’s gaze, the dancer admitted: “’bout half a year. Those last two times I got sick were actually the side effects of the treatment.” Minho let go of him and settled for sitting on the floor against Hyunjin’s legs, which cleared the space for Jisung to come over and cling to his youngest hyung. “I had to tell you now because I’ll have to take the medication again in a few days and it will obviously take me down again for a while like the last times”, he hummed quietly, shuddering at the thought. Chan knelt down next to Minho and squeezed Hyunjin’s hand, assuring: “It’s okay, I’ll talk to our managers. We’ll clear your schedule and you just focus on resting and riding it out, yeah?”, the younger nodded, sniffling quietly as the leader continued, “Should you ever need to go on a hiatus, talk to me, okay? I know our livestyle is stressful and doesn’t allow much time to rest, so if you need a break, we’ll get you one.”

After a long silence, Hyunjin admitted with tears in his eyes: “I’ll probably need to at some point. It’s getting so hard to keep up with you when dancing but what if Stay will think Stray Kids is as good or even better without me?” – “That is not going to happen! Stray Kids is not Stray Kids without you hyung. Stay would want you to take care of yourself, just like we want you to. Do you remember what you told me when my anxiety got really bad? You said ‘there’s no shame in taking a rest, you come first, your job comes second’. Same goes for you too, hyung”, Jisung reminded, “We just want you to be well.” – “It’s j-just, I really loved dancing and now I can barely do it anymore. What if I’m not as good as before when all of this is over”, the older mumbled, playing with his sleeve. Tapping the dancer’s knee from where he was sitting on the ground, Minho spoke up with a firm expression: “Look at me, Jinnie. I’m good at dancing, so I can judge. You have so much natural talent as a dancer, that’s nothing that just suddenly vanishes. Yeah, you might forget about some of the moves but we are all here to remind you again.” Felix nodded along promising: “We’re the dance-line, we work on our dancing together, always have and always will. How many nights have you stayed behind with me to help me get it right, don’t you think I’m willing to do the same for you?” – “Thank you, Lixxie”, he smiled, drying his eyes with his sleeve.

“You got this, Jinnie”, Changbin smiled, ruffling his dongsaeng’s hair. The younger cringed at the touch, pleading: “Please don’t do this, it’s falling out quick enough as it is”, twirling a long strand around his finger he whimpered, “I don’t want to lose it all, I’d be so ugly being bald.” – “Jinnie, look at Chan, for now he has less hair than you. Is he ugly?”, Changbin asked. “Of course, he is!”, Hyunjin joked, snorting and earning an irritated “Excuse me???” from the leader. Changbin just continued, ignoring his hyung: “We’ll simply make sure he’ll dye his hair again for the next comeback, so he’ll lose it faster”, he winked, “and if you feel self-conscious, wear a beanie. We always do. It won’t be so much different and you can also borrow some of mine if you get tired of your own collection. We all know I have an endless number of them, you will always find one that goes with your outfit.” The dancer nodded gratefully while Jisung removed himself from his side, dashing to his room. He was slightly out of breath when he jogged back to the living room, with a black beanie in his hands. Upon further inspection, the older could make out a pair of cat ears on top of it. “Here, I haven’t worn it in an eternity but I thought it would look really good on you”, the rapper announced with sparkling eyes, “Try it on!” Hyunjin complied earning a bush of squeals, while Jisung pinched his cheek exclaiming: “Cute!” The younger fixed it a bit, so it was facing straight, beaming at his hyung: “You should keep it, it looks so much better on you anyways.” – “Thanks, Sungie. But what if I don’t want to walk around the dorm wearing a beanie 24/7?”, the dancer worried. Frowning at his hyung’s insecurity, Jeongin spoke up: “Hyung, you don’t have to hide from us. You are so handsome, you know, there’s a reason you are called prince. What’s on your head won’t change that, plus we care about you, not your hair. To us it doesn’t matter what’s on your head, if you’d walk around with a chicken living up there, we wouldn’t care.” – “Well, I would be mildly concerned if there was a chicken on his head”, Felix’ deep voice cut in. Seungmin tapped his lips, thinking deeply before considering: “I mean, a raven or a snow owl would be fine but a chicken, come on Jeongin, Hyunjin has more style than that.” – “Guys, you don’t get the point”, the maknae whined. “I do, Innie”, Hyunjin chuckled at the heated discussion that broke out about the bird bread that would fit him best, “Thank you.”

It took a few minutes for Chan to calm the maknae-line down, without agreeing on a certain bread. “How long is it till your next treatment?”, the leader asked. Counting in his head, the younger replied: “Four more days or considering today is mostly over, three days.” – “Well, how about we go for sushi during lunch tomorrow? My treat. It’s you favorite, so you can enjoy some delicious food while you can still stomach it”, the oldest offered. An excited smile spread on Hyunjin’s face and he nodded, as it had been a while since he had sushi. “Good, you need to eat well to give your body the energy it needs. You’ve been losing too much weight lately”, Minho approved, nudging his dongsaeng’s knee. Wordlessly walking over, Jeongin dropped himself on Hyunjin’s lap before announcing: “Well, now that that’s settled, as the maknae I call dips on cuddles.” – “Yah! I do not agree with this line of argument!”, Felix yelled frustrated. Soon the entire group was piled up together cuddling their sick dancer. “Thank you, guys. I wouldn’t know what to do without you”, he sniffled getting emotional from all the affection he was receiving. Chan just squeezed him a bit tighter and whispered: “You don’t have to think about that because you will always have us by your side.” – “Promise?” – “Promise! Every step of the way.”

#stray kids #fanfiction #fanfic #sickfic #sick #whump #fluff #comfort #hwang hyunjin #skz

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rainy-day-gracie · 4 years ago

Text

America’s Sweetheart 6

hola bonjour hello:)

Read previous chapter here <-

(finally) finished! The stalker is taken into custody, but Reader can’t help but feel uneasy. Spencer and Reader spend the night together, and confessions spill over onto the surface. Reader invites Spencer to be her date at the Oscars.

This chapter is 💋spicy 💋 (for my writing at least lol)

MASTERLIST __

My instincts kicked in, and I dropped to my knees. The man slipped with the sudden movement, and I brought my elbow up to his teeth. I spun around to face him, looking into the eyes of a ski mask.

He was knocked backwards by my elbow, recovering by slamming my head into the side of the kitchen cabinet. I was dazed for a moment, and he wrapped his hands around my throat. Black spots danced across my vision, and I reached my arms to his shoulders, not to push him off, but to make sure I get the position exactly right.

My back hit the floor, the ski mask leaning over me menacingly. I snapped my arms towards each other, listening to the crunch of bone as his elbows bent towards each other. He let go of me, screaming out in pain while hitting his head on the cabinet.

I rushed to my feet, stumbling towards my phone and dialing 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Yes, s-someone broke into my house, um, I’m fine but he has two broken elbows,” I stammered, keeping my eye on the man writhing on the floor.

“What’s your name and address?”

“YFN YLN, 325 Willman Street.”

“Oh, YFN YLN! Help is on the way, miss,” the receiver said sweetly, recognizing my name immediately.

The ambulance arrived in a matter of minutes, and I kept my head low as the paramedics checked me out. The intruder was strapped to a gurney, shouting profanities and curses at me. Police and press alike showed up at the scene, reporters shouting questions at me from behind the police line.

“You need to get out of here,” an officer said to me, eyeing the pack of news channels.

“I need to call my boyfriend,” I breathed, not wanting Spencer to see this mess on the 11 o’clock news.

Spencer was at the hospital in a matter of hours, arguing with the officer posted outside of my hospital room.

“Just let him in, he won’t go away until he sees me,” I told the nurse tending to the injury on my head. She frowned, begrudgingly opening the door to the room. Spencer rushed in immediately, his gun still attached to his hip.

“Did you fly in straight from your case? Spencer, I’m fine-”

“No, baby, you’re not okay, come here,” he gently took my head in his hands, examining my injuries carefully. Despite the situation, my heart fluttered at his pet name.

He stayed with me as the nurse finished her exam, holding my hand the entire time.

“Miss YLN, you have a minor concussion, but we think you should maybe stay the night here... there’s at least 24 reporters waiting just outside the hospital,” the nurse said, looking between Spencer and I sympathetically.

Spencer and I curled up onto the small hospital bed, both of us completely and utterly exhausted.

When we were both half asleep and alone, I mumbled just loud enough for him to hear me.

“There have been other notes that I didn’t tell you about... the creeper threatened you,” I whispered, nuzzling my head gently into his shoulder.

“The police already got a confession out of the attacker, his name is Alan Bradley, and he confessed to all of the love letters and photos left for you,” he replied, kissing me sweetly on the forehead.

As I drifted off to sleep, I should’ve felt comfort knowing my stalker was going down, but I couldn’t make myself believe it. __

My agent called me two weeks after the attack while I was waiting at Spencer’s, dressed in less than modest clothes. Spencer was coming home from a case, and I decided to surprise him.

“Hey, Cathy, what’s up?”

“So, you do know that the Oscars are in a month, right?”

Spencer walked into his apartment, stunned when he saw me sitting on his couch in... very unholy attire. He cocked his head, a blush coming to his face.

“Wow, um... I didn’t realize they were so soon,” I said, trying not to laugh at Spencer’s slack jawed face. “I’m going to have to present right? Tradition for the previous Best Actress to present this year’s Best Actor?”

“Yes, but this year they’re limited on seats so you’re only permitted one partner of your choosing to attend with you,” Cathy explained very matter of factly.

Spencer stepped forward cautiously, as though if he moved too fast I might run away. He looked down, tracing his fingers over the fabric on my shoulder while a sly smile fell easily on his lips.

“Hey, Cathy, can I call you back? I’m, um... busy, right now,” I mumbled, trying not to giggle as Spencer began playing with little strands of my hair.

“Sure, just communicate with me about scheduling,” she replied, hanging up the phone promptly.

I tossed the phone to the side on the couch, Spencer’s hands wasting no time getting tangled in my hair. He crashed his lips onto mine, leaving me momentarily breathless.

“That was an important phone call,” I huffed as his lips moved onto my neck, lifting me up to move towards the bedroom.

“You’re the one that got all dressed up,” he smirked against my collarbone, and I wrapped my legs around his hips as he carried me down the hall.

He practically threw me on the bed, and I laid myself out before him, his eyes never leaving me as he fumbled with his belt buckle.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” Spencer whispered a few minutes later from between my legs.

“Ever since you landed,” I replied, barely able to get the words out.

He chuckled, making me gasp aloud, my fingers buried in his messy, curly, beautiful, perfect hair. __

Spencer’s eyes were half open, looking at me in the dark like I was the most beautiful creature in the world.

“Spencer,” I mumbled, a small smile gracing my slightly swollen lips.

“Yes?”

“Will you be my date to the Oscars?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Me? You want me to go with you to the Oscars?”

“Of course I do. You’re my man, and I love you,” I muttered without thinking.

I love you. The words were so easy, so comfortable on my lips.

I sat up, holding the bed sheet against my bare chest. “I’m sorry, that just slipped out-”

“I love you too.”

Spencer looked at me so intently, I knew he was nothing but genuine. He smiled sweetly, propping himself up on his hands. “I love you, YFN.”

I grinned, giddiness washing over me. My lips met his, not hungry or needy, but gently, both of us giggling and smiling while the kiss died.

We fell asleep together, smiles still on both of our faces.

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Let me know if you wanna be added ! (i’m real bad at tag lists lol)

as always, requests are open:)

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #dr reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid imagines #criminal minds imagine #america's sweetheart

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agentofscifi · 5 years ago

Text

Super Genius Ch. 3

I march my way through the complex, ignoring the stares off all of the Avengers. My Dad is biting into a bagel as I stop next to him. He swallows quickly. “Happy Birthday Kiddo!”

I feel my eye twitch. “Peter, Peni, Miles, Anya, and Gwen have all been bitten by radioactive spiders. MJ and Ned seem to be some sort of Superhero backup. Riri and Harley recreated your tech in garages. Are any of these kids normal?”

My Dad flushes. “How’s you find out?”

“Peter got surprised, jumped, landed on the ceiling and then stayed there! This is not normal!”

My Dad opens and closes his mouth. “I can explain!”

I raise an eyebrow. “Explain what? How every one of your new interns is either helping a superhero, is a superhero, or is on their way to being a Superhero? What is this, the Junior Avengers?”

My Dad rolls his eyes. “I haven’t coined a name yet, and don’t you mean everyone but you?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Maybe.” It didn’t matter as much now. My parents in France were told about me being Ladybug after I became the Guardian. The kids all already knew. Harley had looked in my bag for my charging cord last night only to find Tikki. This would be when Peter freaked out and got stuck on the ceiling. Giant talking bugs were not normal in New York, according to Peter. Either way, my superhero ID had already known to the rest of the kids.

My Dad does a double take. “What does “maybe” mean?”

I shrug. “Maybe means that I was given a pair of magical earrings with a tiny goddess that’s attached to them when I was 12 and that I’ve been fighting a magical terrorist for the past 3 years while in Paris.”

Everyone is looking at me once again. My Father is blinking rapidly. “This is a joke, right?”

Tikki suddenly pops up in the air next to me. “Hi, I’m Tikki! I’m the Ladybug Kawami.”

A disheveled Clint looks up from his cup of coffee before slowly grabbing a newspaper and rolling it up. “Stark, don’t move. There’s a giant floating bug.”

I reach forward and snatch the newspaper from his hand. “She’s a goddess.”

Clint closes his eyes slowly. “So, no huge bug bites from the giant floating bug goddess?”

I resist the urge to facepalm. “No, there won’t be any bug bites. Drink your coffee.” Clint nods and slowly starts to sip on his coffee again.

My Dad clears his throat. “Magical terrorist?”

“Who uses evil butterflies to possess people.”

My Dad stares at me then looks to the ceiling. “FRIDAY? Is my daughter on drugs?”

“No, Mr. Stark. Further research has turned up a few blogs and news articles speaking of Ladybug, Chat Noir, and several other heroes fighting a Hawkmoth and Mayura.”

My Dad furrows his brow. “Is Paris on drugs?”

I roll my eyes. “No, Dad. This is not the point. Are you, or are you not, starting some kind of Junior Justice League?”

My father gives me a playful glare. “Mari, you know me. I’m just mentoring.”

“So you are starting a Junior Justice League.” I throw my hands into the air. “You have got to be kidding me!”

“Marinette!” My Dad is whining now, like a child.

I roll my eyes and decide to skip out on the rest of my questions involving my Father’s collection of teenage superheroes. “Dinner with Pepper, Rodney, and Happy tonight?”

He smiles. “Of course, at your favorite restaurant!”

I peak him on the cheek. “Love you Dad!” I twist around on my heels and hit the button for the elevator.

Sam blinks as I step into the elevator. Tikki waves at Sam, who hesitantly waves back. “What’s with the floating giant bug in the elevator?”

“The tiny goddess attached to Tony’s kid’s earrings that she used to fight a magical terrorist in France that’s possessing people with butterflies.” Natasha leans back in her seat, sipping on a cup of coffee.

Sam rubs his eyes and looks back at Tikki, who is still waving cheekily. “I’m going back to bed.”

The elevator door closes as Sam turns back around to go to bed.

A few seconds later I end up back in the Teen living room. Harley looks up as I walk back in. “So, are we the Junior Justice League?”

“Yup. You guys ready for today?”

Ned briefly throws his hands up in the air. “5 Days of Star Wars in less than 24 hours!”

MJ rolls her eyes as she finishes up the shopping list. “It’s 7 days Ned. We need to sleep.”

“Sleep is for the weak!” Peni sitting on top of her robot, her spider resting on her shoulder.

Anya sighs and runs a hand over her face. “I cannot believe I am doing this.”

My mouth splits wide open. “Doing what Anya? Adding an AI to the Avengers Tower, freeing ourselves of the Baby Monitors, and rebelling form the man upstairs.”

Gwen looks over the back of the couch with a raised eyebrow. “Is the man your father?”

“Yes and if he was in my shoes, he’d be doing the exact same thing.”

Gwen shrugs. “Probably.”

“I’m sorry!” Peter looks around at all of us. “Are we all just going to go with the tiny goddess living in our...apartment, the girl with magical earrings, and the terrorist in Paris with magical butterflies possessing people?”

“Peter,” Miles looks up from the sketch book in his hand. “There's a wizard with a semi-sentiate cape living in New York. The tiny goddess makes more sense than the cape. The evil butterflies, I’ll give you that. That’s just weird.”

I click my tongue. “Says the kid who developed invisibility after being bitten by a spider. That’s weird.”

Miles holds his hands up. “Agree to disagree.” He reaches down and holds up his paper. It was done in colored pencil, but was drawn as if it was spray painted. It was a large yin-yang symbol, however, a spider sat in the Yin circle of the Yang side and the arc reactor symbol sat in the Yang circle of the Yin side. “What do you think?”

“I think we need to add spray paint to the shopping list. We have our symbol of rebellion.”

Harley shrugs again. “Or the symbol of our Junior Avengers?”

Riri glares up at Harley. “Way to ruin the moment, country boy.”

Back in Paris

Lila’s POV

Alya squeals as Miss. Bustier smiles before the collection of students. Technically, Lycée was out for the year, but after months of fundraising and paperwork, the Akuma Class of Lycée Françoise Dupont was attending the International Technology Showcase in Washington D.C. in 2 months. A sizable anonymous donation was sent to the school. I had already spun a story telling all of my sheep that Tony Stark sent the money so that we could see the Showcase in D.C.

Max had already planned on attending the showcase this summer, as he was showing off a computer program of his. With the announcement that the school would be covering the rest of the trip, several other students in the class were considering adding their own inventions to the showcase. I would have to whip something up and then maybe I’d be able to catch the eye of someone at the showcase. Science wasn’t where I wanted to end up, but winning some award at a huge competition for a bunch of nerds would look great on my portfolio.

I give a loud sigh. “This sounds great, but unfortunately, my designs went missing. I had this amazing idea that I worked out with Tony Stark. The equations and blueprints disappeared out of my bag on the last day of school.” 3, 2, 1, and!

Alya gasps. “I bet it was Marinette, just like your laptop Lila!”

“Did you ever go to the police, Lila?” Rose is giving me one of those obnoxious smiles.

“I tried, but since I didn’t have any proof, they said they couldn’t do much. Marinette must have reset the tablet.” I give a few sniffs as the class tries to comfort me.

“You know, I bet if we told Marinette’s parents they’d believe us!” Alya stands up from the benches just outside the school. “I bet they’ll force Marientte to give back Lila’s laptop.”

A brief wave of shock rolls over me. That was something I hadn’t considered yet, turning Ms. Goodie-Tooshoe’s parents against her. The iPad idea might not work alone, but with all the other stories I had made up, I could probably convince them. “Well, if you think it’s the best thing to do.”

The whole class makes their way over to the bakery, Alya at the lead. I let the class escort me over, as if I didn’t want to be bothering the two bakers.

Alya slams open the front door, the bell’s ring catching the attention of the two people behind the register, as well as the woman attempting to order. Both of Marientte’s parents give the class smiles, however, they seem hesitant. “Hello kids,” Marinette’s mother waves to us. “I’ll be with you in a second.”

Alya, instead, marches her way towards the counter and pushes the woman aside. “Mrs. Dupain-Cheng, we have something important to talk to you about!”

Said woman’s smile falls instantly as the other woman rubs her side. I immediately knew this wouldn’t go to plan. I’d have to adapt to get things my way. “Alya, I’m with a customer. It will have to wait a few minutes.”

Alya rolls her eyes. “This is more important. Where’s Marinette?”

Mrs. Dupain-Cheng crosses her arms over her chest. “Marinette isn’t here. What is this all about?”

“Mari’s been bullying Lila!” Alya points back to me and I give a small wave. “She’s stolen things from her, called her a liar, has sent mean texts, and just a few days ago, she took Lila’s iPad and some tech plans Lila worked out with Tony Stark.”

Marinette’s parents share a look before her mother bursts out laughing. Alya rears back her head in shock and I can’t even hide my surprise. Mrs. Dupain-Cheng looks back at us. “Marinette didn’t steal any tech plans. She doesn’t need to.”

Alya opens and closes her mouth a few times. “What! Of course she does! She’s a complete scatterbrain.”

Mrs. Dupain-Cheng’s eyes darken. “My daughter skipped a year of school and still had the best grades in your class, hell, in your year. She managed to have these top grades while juggling her class’ work, class representative duties and all of your outrageous requests that were usual last minute and always free.”

Several of my classmates are red or pale after those words. This was not going my way at all. I give Marinette’s mother a big smile. “Well, that’s what friends do, they help each other.”

Mrs. Dupain-Cheng raises an eyebrow. “Right. I suppose this is why my daughter spent countless nights and hundreds of euros on fabrics for commission she was never paid for. Or, why Marinette was told she’d be babysitting three little kids for free while their older siblings went on dates with the money their parents gave them for babysitting. Or why she was told she was being selfish everytime she tried to ask for help.”

I let my smile fall. This was not going to plan at all. “She stole things from Lila!” Alya has a look of disbelief on her face. “She stole important work. So what if Marinette’s a year ahead. Max still has way better grades than her. You’ll see next year when we restart classes.”

Max’s chest puffs out in pride. I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Mrs. Dupain-Cheng just raises an eyebrow. “Go to the police then, if my daughter has stolen something. As for next year, Marinette graduated Lycée last week after years of working ahead. She’s attending MIT in the fall.”

This could not be happening. Adrien looks at Marinette’s mother with shocked eyes. “Why didn’t she tell us?”

At the same time Alya screams. “What!”

The eyebrow is raised even high. “Because you told my daughter that you weren’t friends with her anymore. Now, you had barged into my shop, pushed a client, and rudely interrupted a sale. Please leave!”

“But-”

“Now!” The class scurried out the door, me along with them. Marinette’s mother looked truly angry.

We all stand outside the shop, several of my sheep looking completely confused. Since when was Ms. Goodie-Goodie smart enough to graduate two years early?

I huff and I slowly make my way up the staircase of the Dupain-Cheng home. I need something for this showcase and if Marientte is as smart as her mother says she is, then she’d have something. I managed to pick the lock of the bakery and make my way up to the attic that Marinette called a room.

It was bare. That was the best way to describe the room. All of the walls were empty of decorations. The desk had nothing on it either. All that was left was the basic furniture and the sheets on the bed. I try all of the desk drawers and even under the bed, nothing. Then, I remember it the board Alya told me about. The schedule of Adrien’s that Marinette had kept.

I rooted around at the edge of the bed until I found it. The edge of the board. Smiling, I pull it all the way down. It was several layers of plans on top of each other. There were details about several apps, some green projects and well as some super resistant fabric for firefighters. What really caught my eye was the equations and blue prints for a small device that would wirelessly charge any device in a 50 radius. I snap photos of all layers of plans. If I could get this stuff out there, I could make thousands, and all with the help of Marinette. The only issue would be if Marinette came after me for stealing her work. Who was I kidding, that wouldn’t be an issue. I’d just shed some tears and tell everyone about Marinette’s bullying. I had school records to back me up. It’s not like anyone would believe her if she said she did the work.

New York City

Marinette’s POV

I click my tongue as a notification pops up on my phone. After Chloe had broken into my room I’d set up security cameras and motion sensor alerts in case anyone else tried something. A good idea seeing as Lila was currently picking at things in my room. I raise an eyebrow as she pulls down my chart and starts to take photos of my inventions on there.

“Everything alright?” Riri stops at shoulder and looks over at the phone. “What is she doing?”

“She is taking photos of my ideas. The coding for a few apps, blueprints for some green energy things, the information required for my super resistant firefighter fabric and an invention I got a patent back on last week. It goes on sale in a month with Stark Industries.”

“Cool. How does she expect to get away with this?”

“Didn’t you hear!” I pick up an overly fake fangirl tone of voice. “It’s Lila Rossi! She’s Ladybug’s best friend, she saved Jagged Stone’s kitten, she does all kinds of environmental charities with Prince Ali, she helps the Avengers and all while having arthritis, sprained ankles and wrists, and tinnitus that switches ears every few hours.”

Peter stops in the middle of the living room, a look of complete confusion on his face. “I thought Jagged Stone had a crocodile?”

“He does Peter.”

“Since when does Tinnitus switch ears?” Peter is still confused.

“Since she saved Jagged Stone’s cat from an airplane.”

Harley snorts from the edge of the kitchen. “This sounds like fantasy.”

I groan. “You’d think, but my class all believes her. Max made a freaking A.I robot, with emotions, but believes that a paper napkin could cut his eye. He wears glasses.”

“What did Hawkmoth lower your class’ IQs or something?” Anya settles down into the nest we had made in the past hour.

“A leading theory.”

The phone rings with a facetime request. I hit the accept button and my father’s face pops up with a stack of papers in his hands. “What is this?”

I raise an eyebrow. “You got our declaration of independence.”

My father looks unimpressed. “What is this?”

Riri is grinning next to me. “Our declaration of independence.”

“What does that mean?” I can’t but laugh at the confused expression on my Dad’s face.

Harley pops up on my other shoulder. “No baby monitoring protocols!”

“Junk food all day!” Miles yells from his spot.

“No bedtime!” Peni is cheering. Sometimes I forget how young she is.

There’s laughing in the background from my father’s end. “Tony, are the kids beating you up?” I recognize Bucky’s voice in the background.

My father ignores the comment. “How did you block FRIDAY?”

“Simple, I added in my own AI. I left the backdoor open years ago.”

“You have an AI?” My father’s face is torn between confusion and pride.

“JADA. Junior Avengers Defying Adults.”

“Mari!” My Dad is whining again.

“You have 5-6 days to review our Declaration, we will be occupied during this time. We have a lawyer, for the record.”

“Do I want to know what you’ll be doing?”

“Star Wars marathon. All 12 movies, along with all 7 seasons of Clone Wars, the first season of the Bad Batch, all 4 seasons of Rebels, and the two seasons of The Mandalorian. If we don’t sleep, it’s roughly 7711 minutes of Star Wars, which is 128 hours and 31 minutes or 5 days and eight hours. So, when you see us again is entirely dependent on how long we can go without sleep.”

“I worry about you sometimes.”

“ I’ve got to go. Ned just put in the first film.”

“Just one question. What is on the floor behind you?”

I looked over my shoulder at the nest that had been put together over the past hour. Riri was settling into her spot. “That’s 6 mattresses, 19 blankets, and about a dozen pillows.”

“Why?”

“Couches are boring.”

“Ok, now I’m worried about all of you.”

“Goodbye Dad!”

Before ~~~~~~ Next

#lila salt #alya salt #miraculous ladybug #avengers #marinette deserves better #Tony Stark #class salt #bustier salt #Marinete is Tony Stark's Kid #peter parker #super genius marinette

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detectivecarlosreyes · 4 years ago

Text

Only the pure in heart can make a good soup

Ao3

Day 1: “Are you warm enough?” + fluff - Athena asks Buck to check on May when she stops answering her phone after staying home from school with the stomach flu that had been going around.

@evanbuckleyweek

One thing Buck didn’t expect on his day off was getting a call from Athena. He’d just finished a load of washing and had the now clean pile tipped it out on his bed to be folded when the call came through.

He wedges the phone between his ear and shoulder as he goes about folding each item and stacking them in their specific piles to be put away in the right drawer. “Athena! This is a surprise, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

“Hey there Buckaroo. I was actually wondering if you could do me a favour, if you’re not busy.” He surveys what was left of his clothes.

“Nope not busy at all, what do you need?” Buck moves the phone to his hand as he settles on the end of his bed, giving Athena his undivided attention.

“May stayed home sick from school today and I was going to swing by at lunchtime to check on her, but I’ve been held up with an incident on the other side of town. Would you mind checking on her, she hasn’t answered her phone in the last few hours.”

“Yeah, of course, I can do that.”

“Normally I wouldn’t ask but Bobby has gone to the station to sort out a backlog of paperwork that he missed while he was sick, and Michael has gone on a 3-day weekend away with his new beau and as you know everyone else is out of commission with the flu.”

Yeah, he did know, it was something that was going around at the moment, a 24- hour stomach bug. It started with one of the guys at the station who passed it onto Bobby who then passed it onto most of the team, except him and Athena, who went down all at once. It wouldn’t surprise him if May was struck down with the same thing.

Hearing the concern in her voice, Buck gets up and plan of action already forming in his head, “Don’t worry about it ‘Thena, I’ll drop by now and I’ll let you know how she is.”

“Thank you Buck, I’ve got to go but I’ll talk to you later,” she was gone after that and Buck was on the move, collecting his shoes from his room before heading to the kitchen.

Pulling open the fridge, he gathers what was left of the chicken soup batch he’d made the night Bobby had fallen ill and thanked his foresight to make a large enough batch to deliver to the rest of the team the morning when they went down too.

It was a patented recipe that his grandmother swore by that was both nourishing and easy on the stomach lest it be unsettled, and in all his years of using it, it hadn’t steered him wrong yet.

Throwing on his shoes, Buck gathers everything, grabbing one last thing from the fridge as an afterthought, and heads out for the nice, short drive that it takes to get to the Grant-Nash household. He easily finds the spare key that he knew was carefully hidden in the front garden.

Stepping inside, Buck heads to the kitchen to drop everything off before seeking out May who he assumed was probably in her bedroom, trying to sleep off the sickness. Finding the bedroom door closed, he knocks gently and announces his presence out of deference to her privacy.

Hearing what he thinks is the sound of her stirring, Buck opens the door a crack, “May? You awake?”

“…Buck? What are you doing here?” Swinging the door wider, he finds her lying on her side buried under her blanket and looking half-awake, squinting at the door in confusion.

“Your mom asked me to check on you when you weren’t answering your phone.”

Seeing a slight flush of her cheeks Buck steps inside and crouches at her bedside, touching the back of his hand to her forehead and frowns when he feels what he thinks might be a low-grade fever radiating from it.

“I’m guessing you probably have what Bobby had the other day, how are you feeling?” He asks as he looks down at the thankfully empty bucket sitting beside the head of the bed. He sits back on his heels, giving her some room as she props herself up on her pillows considering the question.

“I can’t tell if I feel hungry or still feel like my stomach is still upset. Breakfast didn’t stay down for long, it came back up not long after mom left.” She ends up answering with a grimace, wrapping an arm around her belly.

“I brought some soup. How about I just warm up a little bit and we see how we go.” He offers and gets a considering nod in response. Buck gives her a pleased smile and heads back down to the kitchen to warm the soup in a small saucepan.

He puts a slice of bread in the toaster before turning his attention to his phone, letting Athena know how things were. He moves easily around the kitchen, finding what he needs and plates everything up on a tray to take up to May. Before he has the chance to bring to food to her, he’s surprised, however, to hear her coming down the stairs.

“Is that the same soup you made for Bobby? It smells good.” She says, appearing around the corner, looking more alert and dressed snugly in a thick looking hoodie and track pants.

“Yep, grandma’s secret recipe. Why don’t you take a seat on the couch and I’ll bring it over to you,” Buck answers over his shoulder as he picks up the tray.

He brings it over to the living area and set it down on the coffee table before passing the bowl to May. “Want to watch something together?”

“You’re staying?” she asked, confused.

Buck shrugs and takes a seat next to her on the couch, picking up the remote, “Yeah, I have nowhere else to be today and I don’t see a better way to spend my day than keeping you company.”

He pauses realising that he might be overstepping, “…If you don’t mind that is.”

May smiles at him, “I wouldn’t mind some company.”

Buck grins back at her before turning his attention back to the tv, “So, what would you like to watch.”

They end up settling on The Great British Bake-off which neither of them had watched. While they watch, Buck tries to subtly pay attention to how much May ends up eating, hoping that she gets at least some nutrition after losing her breakfast, and finds himself pleased to find that she managed at least half the bowl and a few bites of toast.

Almost an hour had passed, and they had just started on the next episode when May got up abruptly, rushing out of the room in the direction of the bathroom. He follows in concern and finds her kneeling by the toilet bowl, throwing up what she’d just eaten.

He goes to fetch a glass of water before returning and joining her in the bathroom. He squats beside her and rubs her back comfortingly until the heaving subsides before offering the glass. She takes it gratefully and washes out her mouth before getting up and moving gingerly back to the couch.

Buck diverts to the kitchen, getting the sports drink he remembered last minute to bring before re-joining her on the couch and offers the bottle, gently reminding her to keep up the fluids.

“Thanks,” May says with a small smile before resting her head on his shoulder with a frustrated sigh, “Guess my stomach wasn’t ready for food yet.”

Buck gives her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze, “We can always try again later.”

Feeling her shiver against him, Buck pulls the throw from the back of the couch and May tucks her feet up.

“Are you warm enough?” He asks and May nods into his shoulder.

They both fall quiet after that, tuning back into the show even though they’d already missed half the episode but neither really minding. They slowly get back into it by the end of the episode, commenting on what they think the judges will say about the dishes.

And that how the rest of their afternoon went, building up their own running commentary on the show, throwing in their own opinions and laughing at each other’s criticisms. At some point Harry joins them, having been dropped off from school from the neighbouring carpool.

That’s what Athena walks in to find when she gets home from work, the three of them looking at home with each other as her children quietly bickered with Buck as if they were siblings, over who they thought were the better bakers, and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of fondness over it.

Buck sticks around a little longer after Athena’s return, letting her know how the day went and confirming what she assumed May was sick with; And then he heads home, leaving behind the soup that he’d brought over and promising May that he’d try not to watch any more of the show without her.

The next day, however, he wakes to find himself flushed with a fever and with an intense need to throw up. It doesn’t take him much to put two and two together to know how he caught the bug. It doesn’t him bother though, feeling it was worth hanging out with May because it meant that he got to know her better and learned pretty quickly how easily they got along.

May must have found out from Bobby that he had called in sick because she sent him a number of British Bake-off memes which he saw after his second round of vomiting, making his day feel less awful. She explained that she was having another day from school to be sure that the virus had passed.

The memes ended up sparking a day-long event with the two of them live blogging to each other what was left of the first season from the comfort of their own homes.

It was one of the best sick days he’s had in quite some time probably since he was a kid.

#if you didn't know the title is a Beethoven quote #ew2020 #evanweek2020 #jess writes #my fic #Evan Buckley #may grant #athena grant #Harry grant #sick fic #911 fic #userkourt #userkimmy

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