#cause lately i can barely formulate sentences that make sense

[fisgon-fisgon]

can't wait to go back to being the protagonist in my life

[fridayfirefly]

The Wedding Schemers

Read The Wedding Schemers on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 23 - Enemies to Lovers

Damian Wayne was so annoying, Marinette wanted nothing more than to shoot him. Unfortunately, he was the only person who could help her. If they couldn't work together, everything would be ruined.

But Marinette was getting ahead of herself. To fully explain the situation, she needed to take it back five months. Back to the beginning. Back to the first day they met. It was April, the season of growth and opportunity. And rain. Lots of rain. Marinette normally wouldn't have a problem with rain. However, rain ruined outdoor weddings and as a professional wedding planner, it meant that she always had to have a backup plan.

Marinette had just finished up her biggest wedding yet. The wedding of Adrien Agreste and Chloé Agreste (neé Bourgeoise) went off without a hitch. It was perfect, the most praised wedding of the season. Which meant it brought in new customers. New rich customers.

Timothy Drake and Stephanie Brown hadn't been in attendance at the Agreste wedding, but they had seen pictures and had decided to hire Marinette as their wedding planner. Over the phone, the couple sounded lovely. They had already picked out potential color schemes, potential venues, and a date for the wedding: October 14th. Marinette figured it might be her easiest wedding yet. That is, until she met the bride and groom in person, and they brought along the best man.

Damian Wayne was intolerable. Every idea that Marinette brought up he instantly shot down. He was pickier then either Tim or Stephanie and they were the ones who were getting married in the first place. Marinette was so frustrated she wanted to quit the job. However, she knew that if she wanted to break into the high-profile wedding business, she couldn't have such a major blow to her reputation. So Marinette sucked it up and tried her best not to punch Damian. All Marinette had to do was survive one annoying groomsman, and her career would be set for life.

----------

It was a warm, breezy August morning when Marinette got the phone call. "Hello?" she said as she answered the unknown number, setting her mug of coffee down on her side table.

"Marinette?" Marinette recognized the voice as Stephanie Brown, slightly distorted by the sob that she let out half-way through the word.

"Stephanie, are you okay?"

"The wedding is off," Stephanie cried, barely able to get the words out. "Tim and I aren't getting married."

"What's wrong? I'm sure we can fix this." Marinette tried to reason with Stephanie but was hung up on before she could finish her sentence.

Marinette stared down at her phone, trying to puzzle through what she had just learned. It just didn't make sense. Stephanie, who seemed perfectly in love with Tim just days earlier, was now calling off the wedding. Obviously, there had been some unexpected developments since Marinette last spoke to the couple, but she couldn't imagine a fight that they couldn't work through. Marinette needed to get back in the loop, and she knew who she needed to call. With a long-suffering sigh, Marinette dialed Damian's number.

"Dupain-Cheng," Damian answered the phone with a clipped tone.

"Wayne. Any idea why Stephanie just called me to announce that the wedding is off?"

Damian sighed. "One of Tim's ex-girlfriends met up with him last night. I'm not certain what happened, but I'm certain that Rossi was involved."

"How can you be so certain?"

"Lila Rossi," Damian bit out the name, "Has had her sights on making my brother miserable since the day he broke up with her. She would love nothing more than to ruin his life."

Marinette took in a deep breath, then let it out. "It's clear to me that Tim and Stephanie are both perfect for each other. This is just a minor setback. Someone needs to get them back together. Are you going to help me, or am I on my own?"

"I will help," said Damian succinctly. "I will pick you up in twenty minutes so that we can formulate a plan."

Damian hung up the phone and Marinette was left wondering how in the world she got herself into this position. She now had to spend the day with the most intolerable man she knew, so that she could reunite his recently broken up friends, in order to save their marriage. Marinette sighed. "I might need another coffee."

----------

Damian pulled up to the curb in front of Marinette's house, driving some luxury brand that Marinette would never be able to afford. Marinette climbed into the passenger seat, turning to Damian with an expectant look. "Do we have a plan yet?"

"Not quite a plan, but I do have a handle on the situation as it is now," said Damian, "Tim is refusing to talk to Stephanie. Stephanie is refusing to talk to Tim. Neither will tell my why they've called off the wedding, but it's obvious that there is some degree of miscommunication going on."

Marinette started to do what she did best - formulate an action plan. "We have to get them to meet up and talk things out. I'll take Stephanie, you take Tim. We need to convince them to follow us to a neutral location and we'll have to come up with convincing lies. If either sees through our plan the whole thing is ruined. Then we'll need to find a place to have them meet. I'm thinking a restaurant. We need our location to be somewhere where neither of them would storm out from but it also has to be private enough for them to talk it out."

Damian nodded. "There are plenty of restaurants that would be suited for our needs. The real problem is convincing Tim and Stephanie to follow us."

"I already have an idea for Stephanie. I'm going to ask her if she wants to go to Clement Park and do one of the destroy-the-dress photoshoots. I image that she's upset enough right now to agree to something drastic and dramatic."

Damian looked surprised. "That's a good idea. You're less incompetent than I thought, Dupain-Cheng."

Marinette decided to take his words as a compliment. "Thanks. I am a wedding planner, after all. It's kind of my whole job to be good at plans involving weddings."

"This is more of a scheme than a plan."

"I'll be a wedding schemer for the day, then," joked Marinette. "Now, are there any good restaurants near Clement Park, or should I choose a different location?"

"I know a restaurant a block away from there. I’ll lure Tim there under the premise that we’ll be getting lunch."

Marinette nodded. "I'll try to get Stephanie to the restaurant at noon. I'll also try and make sure the dress stays intact for that long. I have a feeling that Stephanie will still need it after her lunch today."

"Thank you for assisting me. I do not say this often, because it is rarely true, but I do not think I would be able to accomplish this task without your help."

"No problem, Wayne."

----------

Stephanie jumped on the opportunity to destroy her wedding dress.

"I can't believe I ever agreed to marry him," fumed Stephanie as they drove to the park, wedding dress taking up the backseat of Marinette's car.

"What happened between you two?" asked Marinette. "You seemed perfectly happy when I saw you last week."

"He hooked up with one of his ex-girlfriends behind my back. Lila called me last night to confess to the affair, begging me to forgive her because she didn't even know that Tim had a fiancée when she slept with him. I didn't believe her at first, but then she sent me proof. The poor girl kept blaming herself. It wasn't her fault, the only person to blame was Tim."

"That's horrible." Marinette decided not to press the issue any further. She needed Stephanie to trust her.

As the car stopped at the red light, just a block away from the restaurant, Marinette turned to Stephanie. "I just had an idea. We should get some red wine to splash onto the dress."

Stephanie grinned. "Oh that would absolutely ruin it. I'm sure we can pick up a bottle in one of the restaurants down the street."

Marinette pulled the car up in front of the restaurant that Damian had chosen. "Why don't you come in with me, to help pick out the bottle. We can use half of it to destroy the dress and the other half to get drunk afterward."

"You're just full of good ideas today." Stephanie got out of the passenger seat and followed Marinette into the restaurant.

This was the most delicate part of the scheme. If Stephanie caught sight of Tim and Damian too early it would ruin everything. Marinette led Stephanie through the restaurant towards the back, where Tim and Damian sat, under the premise that they were looking for the sommelier.

"Oh no!" Stephanie looked furious as soon as she caught sight of the men, but it was too late. The only way for Stephanie to get away was to make a scene. Marinette grabbed Stephanie's wrist and pulled her over to the table. "Really, Tim?" hissed Stephanie.

"I wasn't involved with this," growled Tim, glaring at Damian.

Damian got out of his seat and pulled it out for Stephanie to sit down in. "I think the two of you need to talk this out. I have no idea what lies Lila Rossi spun to cause this, but her motives have been nefarious since the moment she stepped into Tim's life. Rossi is the untrustworthy one here, not either of you."

Stephanie sighed. "Fine. I'll give Tim twenty minutes to tell his side of the story. But then I'm leaving."

"Thank you," said Damian. He put his hand on Marinette's shoulder and led her away, giving Tim and Stephanie their privacy.

"Do you want to go check out Clement Park?" asked Marinette once they were outside the restaurant.

"Why would we do that?"

Marinette shrugged. "In case Stephanie doesn't forgive Tim, I need to find a good spot to pour wine onto the wedding dress," she teased.

Damian cringed. "That's a twenty-thousand dollar wedding dress. You were just going to let it get ruined?"

Marinette shook her head. "I would have never let Stephanie destroy it. Even if our scheme doesn't work out, I'm going to keep trying to get them back together. Tim and Stephanie love each other. This is just a minor setback."

A thoughtful look passed over Damian. "Thank you, Marinette, for your help today."

"No problem. I was happy to help."

"I suppose you would be. Having your clients cancel after five months of work would no doubt be a career setback."

Before Marinette could protest what he said, she heard a voice call out from behind them. "Marinette! Damian!" It was Stephanie, grinning ear to ear as she ran towards Marinette and Damian, hand in hand with Tim. "We're getting married!" exclaimed Stephanie as soon as she was within earshot of Marinette and Damian.

"That's great!" Marinette replied, feeling the weight of Tim and Stephanie's failing relationship lift off of her chest.

Stephanie looked a bit more nervous. "We're getting married today. This wedding prep - planning the rehearsal dinner menu and picking out flowers for the bouquet - has been driving me crazy. All I want is to get married to Tim."

An elopement was the opposite of what Marinette wanted. It would be a terrible career move, to have her clients get so sick of planning their wedding that they abandoned it entirely. And yet, she carriedfor Tim and Stephanie too much to see them suffer on her account. “You’re wedding dress is in the trunk of my car. You wanted to ceremony to take place in the gardens at Wayne Manor, and that can happen any time. How about six tonight?”

Stephanie let out a sigh of relief. "Marinette, you're the best. Tim, let’s get married.”

Tim nodded. “Let’s get married.”

----------

It was Marinette’s first time planning a wedding in five hours. It might have been stressful, except Stephanie assured Marinette that they didn't want big impressive decorations. And in a very unlikely turn of events, Damian showed up to help Marinette set up.

Marinette wasn't quite sure why Damian was there beside her, tying ribbons and flowers to the walls of the little gazebo on the grounds of Wayne Manor. She got her answer when Damian finally asked the question he had been holding in for hours. "Why didn't you convince them to go through with their original wedding plan? You've put countless hours into their wedding and now all of that work is for nothing."

That was the question of the hour. The response was easy. "If I was in it for the money, I would have chosen a completely different career. I decided to become a wedding planner because I wanted to make people the happiest they could be on their special day. For Tim and Stephanie, this is the happiest they could be on their wedding day - not a big blowout wedding, but a small personal ceremony. It took almost losing everything for them to realize this."

Damian looked guilty. "I'm sorry that I misjudged you, Dupain-Cheng."

"Call me Marinette and I just might forgive you."

"Of course, Marinette. I suppose you may call me Damian, then."

"Thanks, Damian. Now can you pass me the pink ribbons? I want to pair them with the gypsophila and white roses."

As they worked together, slowly but surely turning the gazebo into the perfect wedding centerpiece, Damian kept up the conversation with Marinette. "I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other after this."

"You think?"

"I'm certain that Tim and Stephanie won't forget the help that you gave them.

Marinette shrugged. "It wasn't that big of a deal. Anyone would do what I did."

"Not just anyone. You're special, Marinette."

Marinette blushed. "I think you're pretty special too, Damian."

Her face got dangerously close to Damian's, and she could see the desire in his eyes. Marinette's eyes closed, and she sucked in a small breath of air, ready for what was about to happen.

In what had quickly become a trend for the day, Stephanie chose that moment to interrupt the intimate moment between Marinette and Damian. From across the lawn, she called out, "Quit flirting and finish up with the decorations! The ceremony is about to start and I need help putting my dress on!"

Marinette glanced over at Damian, face still pink with blush. "I've got to go, but I'll see you after the ceremony."

"Goodbye, Marinette."

Marinette fled the gazebo, wondering how in the world she had gone from dreading spending time with Damian to almost kissing him.

----------

The ceremony was beautiful, even if it was entirely under-planned. Tim's vows to Stephanie were only half-written, so he had to improvise. Stephanie's allergies were acting up from all of the pollen in the air. They ran out of napkins ten minutes into dinner. Still, Marinette knew that this was Tim and Stephanie's dream wedding.

"Marinette." Damian caught up to Marinette when she went into the house to get another bottle of wine for the reception.

"Damian. You wouldn't happen to know where the wine is kept?"

"We have a wine cellar."

Marinette rolled her eyes. "Of course you do," she teased.

In the privacy of the wine cellar, Damian finally looked Marinette in the eyes. "I know that our relationship didn't have the best of beginnings, but I've realized now how wrong I was about you. I thought you took on Tim and Stephanie's wedding for the money. I didn't realize that you had grown to care about them as a couple."

"I misjudged you as well. I thought you were so difficult to work with because you didn't like me. I realize now that it was because you wanted the best for your family."

"How about we start over," suggested Damian.

"You've got yourself a deal." Marinette stuck out her hand. "I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng, professional wedding planner."

"I'm Damian Wayne, the brother of the groom."

Marinette grinned. "I've heard that there's a dance floor outside. Maybe you'd like to show me it?"

"Would you give me the pleasure of dancing with you, Miss Dupain-Cheng?"

"Call me Marinette, and you've got yourself a deal." Marinette snagged the right bottle of wine and started making her way out of the cellar. "By the way, Damian, I had a fun time scheming with you today. Maybe we could come up with another scheme for tomorrow. One the involves actually eating at the fancy restaurant."

Damian smiled. "I like the way you think."

"I tend to have good ideas. It's in my job description."

@maribatmarch-2k21

[nightshade-minho]

Halloween Costumes (2) 

💀 Han

[ warnings: public, kind of fear kink but also not? fingering, light degradation ]

You barely noticed Jisung’s fingers sliding between your thighs, your heart still pounding in fear as the ride slowed down in the dark tunnel, the atmosphere eerily quiet.

That is, until you felt his fingers rubbing over your clit, clearly using the fact that you were wearing a skirt to his advantage. You looked up at Jisung’s face with a glare, covered in a ghostly sheen thanks to his make-up. Was it weird that you somehow found him hotter like this? 

“Jisung...this is not the t-time nor the place- fuck-”

He shook his head, leaning in to whisper into your ear. “I don’t agree, babe. You look so delectable dressed like that, how do you expect me to resist this?” He gave you a cheeky grin as he pulled away, his fingers deftly sliding your panties to the side. The rush of cold air made you bite your lip, your mind momentarily forgetting your fear.

However a jumpscare took place at the same time he slid his finger in, making you jolt and scream loudly, voice almost giving out.

Jisung grinned widely at your reaction, the ride starting to move at a fast pace once more. He decided to thrust his digits quicker, loving how your moans were mixed with screams, your heart beating fast. Your brain could barely make sense of all of the different sensations you were feeling.

Meanwhile the man sitting next to you laughed maniacally, grabbing your face to look at him as he pressed his lips to yours.

"Damn, you love this don't you, little slut?" He chuckled against your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth just as he inserted another finger.

He was right, you did. The adrenaline coursing through your veins was only serving to heighten the pleasure Jisung was giving you. He bit your bottom lip as he pulled away, crooking his fingers and fucking them into you roughly. His expression was a stark contrast to the sinful actions his fingers were carrying out down there, a wide smile decorating his face. 

Your orgasm was approaching quickly, and you bit your lip as you felt the beginnings of it spread outward over your entire body. 

The ride was coming to a halt, still speedily hurtling through the tunnel as it was about to reach its end. Soon, it began to slow down.

Jisung pulled his fingers out almost immediately, causing you to let out a pitiful whine, legs still quivering.

Your pussy was still throbbing, frustration filling you at the loss of your orgasm. You turned to Jisung with a frown, ready to berate him when he shut you up with a peck.

"Come on, baby." He held his hand out to you, helping you out of the ride as it stopped.

"If you're going to cum tonight, it will be on my cock."

💀 Felix

[ warnings: unprotected sex, fake gun play, marking kink, for some reason you thought it would be a good idea to wear a horse costume lmao ]

You were supposed to have been at a Halloween party by now. But no, here you were, getting absolutely wrecked by your boyfriend as he took you over the dining table. You knew you should have exhibited some self control...but as soon as you laid your eyes on him in his cowboy attire, gun strapped to his holster, his hair beautiful messed and sporting a jaunty hat - you knew the night would end with his cum in you.

"We're- fuck- going to be so late." You groaned, unable to breathe as Felix's solid length filled you up deliciously, your tight heat welcoming him in with every thrust.

"I don’t give a fuck, kitten. After all, this was how our night was going to end any way, right?"

"Our friends will be waiting for us." You managed to speak, your mouth dropping open as the sheer pleasure took over your weak body, your boyfriend’s aura piercing into you firmly.

"Let them fucking wait." He groaned, leaning down and molding his lips with yours. "I don't care if we're going to miss the party, baby. All I care about right now is your beautiful body, worn out and naked for me."

He slammed his hips into yours repeatedly, making sure his grip on your waist was tight enough to leave marks. Felix loved marking you up. The thought of everyone seeing you and immediately knowing you belonged to him turned him on beyond belief.

"You're mine." He hissed, his lips trailing down to nip just above your nipple, the action drawing out a surprised groan from you. "Mine mine mine mine."

He slowly drew out the fake gun from his holster, smirking as he pressed it above your clit. Your eyes widened impossibly large- your pussy tightening around him as a new wave of arousal gushed out of you.

Moving the top of the gun gently enough to stimulate you without having to hurt you, Felix leaned down to kiss your neck once more.

"You think a cowboy is sexy? Well, I guess I can agree. You know what isn't a good costume, though?"

He pointed to the shreds of fabric on the floor, your horse costume having had been ripped off by him. You followed his gaze, cheeks flushing. You honestly don’t know what you were thinking when you bought that.

"You wouldn't have looked good in that. Hell, no one can pull that shit off." He chuckled deeply, pressing his lips to yours again as you felt him brush against your sweet spot.

"I prefer you in your birthday suit, anyways.”

💀 Seungmin

[ warnings: slave kink, fingering ]

“Please.” You begged.

When you’d agreed to Seungmin’s idea, this wasn’t what you had expected. Sure, you’d thought. If he wanted to plan your activities for Halloween, why not?

And here you were now, completely tied up and naked as the day you were born. You rarely relinquished all your power to him in this manner, rarely let him do these things. He’d sat on the ornate armchair in the corner of your room, leg crossed over the other as he tapped his chin.

His attire was regal, too expensive and luxurious to even be considered a costume. The cherry on top was the opulent crown resting on his head. He really did look majestic, like a true king.

What did that make you?

“Please?” Seungmin scoffed, his lips spreading into a smirk as he glanced you up and down. “You could do a lot better than that, my baby. Can’t you?”

“I...I just-” You sobbed, your pussy throbbing with need. You wanted him inside you, now. Unfortunately, you’re in no place to order him around. No, that’s his job.

“Go on.” His eyes shone as he stood up, walking closer to the bed. “Tell me what you want.”

“I...” You swallowed, unable to hold yourself back. Shedding your dignity, you whimpered, looking up at him helplessly. “I need you so bad, Your Majesty. I want you to ruin me, fuck me until I can’t breathe, treat me like your slave. Cause th-that’s all I am.”

You scrunched your eyes shut, too nervous to see his expression. A few seconds of silence passed, before you felt his long fingers sliding up your folds. The touch you’d long craved made you jolt forward, a long whine leaving your lips. “P-please- more...”

He chuckled, finger poking at your entrance as he pet your head condescendingly. “Don’t worry, my little servant.”

His digits slid in all of a sudden, making you cry out, your eyes opening.

The sight in front of you almost made you wish you’d kept them closed. His lip was held between his teeth, as his eyes took in your entire form, his face closer to yours than you’d expected.

His lips brushed against the shell of your ear as he spoke, in time with a cruel thrust.

“I’ll make sure you serve your lord well.”

💀 I.N

[ warnings: fingering, unprotected sex, degradation ]

You could barely concentrate on mixing the batter, your eyes fluttering as you kept a tight grip on the wooden spoon. How could anyone expect you to think straight when your boyfriend's fingers were running through your swollen folds, collecting your juices and sucking on his digits right after?

You let out an embarrassed moan as Jeongin kissed the back of your neck, his hands spreading your butt cheeks to expose your heat to him clearly.

"God, you're such a dirty girl for me, you know?" He smirked, pressing himself up against you. "I really do love the taste of you right now, princess. Don't even bother dressing up, you look great like this...naked as you bake for me."

You whined and twisted your neck to look at him, pouting. Your boyfriend had gotten dressed way before you, and his costume was impeccably high-end, having borrowed it from an actual film studio. The party wasn't for hours, but you imagined he wanted to live in this fantasy for as long as he could.

You tried your best to focus on the pumpkin cupcakes you were making, your hand shivering. However it was proving to be extremely different, especially when Jeongin slid a finger inside, groaning at the feeling of your tight walls clenching around it.

"Fuck baby, I could take you right here and now.."

You struggled to formulate sentences as he pumped the lone finger in and out of you. "No..." you whimpered. "I have to finish these cupcakes for the party or Felix will kill me-"

"You can continue baking." He mumbled, and you heard a zipper being undone. A second later, his swollen head was pressed against your entrance teasingly, causing you to let out a sound halfway between a groan and whine.

Unable to deny him when he was so tantalizingly close, you nodded, hearing him breathe a sigh of relief as he pushed in all of a sudden, jolting you against the counter.

"Fuck-" You cried out, your hands gripping the edge as you dropped the spoon. There wasn't a point in trying, you'd just mess it up anyway. As if you could focus on something so mundane when your boyfriend was filling you up so deliciously.

He grinned as he saw you give up, pulling you out and lifting you up onto the counter just to slide back in.

You looked down at him and inhaled, panting as he fucked into you. Reaching a hand up, you gripped his horns for support, causing him to raise his eyebrows.

"Cute little girl, getting fucked by a demon. Bet you love this, my little slut.'

"I...do..." You glanced at your abandoned cupcakes momentarily, a tiny flash of guilt in your stomach.

Noticing your gaze, he gripped your chin and made you face him again,

"Oh, fuck the cupcakes. I'm sure you taste better than them anyway..." He kissed you full on the lips, bucking his hips intermittently. "God I fucking love Halloween..."

note: yeah this is kinda late. enjoy, tho <3

[justapurrcat]

A/n: ... there’s still a lot to do, but yeah... here’s a small teaser, hope you like it 💜

You stood there in front of the door, nervously pulling at your clothes, trying to look busy. Like you were actually there for a good reason. The best part of it was that you were. The worst part was that maybe you just needed a bit more time to convince yourself about it.

When your manager Cindy first broke the news to you, it didn’t feel real. You could still remember every single detail of that exact moment like it just happened a few seconds ago.

The way she burst into your room as soon as you opened the door, scaring Lady Yuna to death, and gaining a loud hiss of protest from what was possibly the most peaceful and quiet cat in the whole World. How she had to help you get up from the floor before she could tell you what was going on. The look of excitement on her face and the fact that you just couldn’t believe that the sentences coming out of her mouth were correct and true, and that it wasn’t only your mind playing tricks on you.

But it was real.

A new play, a completely original one, and a role waiting just for you to be brought to life for the very first time. In eighteen years of treading the boards, you’d had the occasion to play many different roles on many different stages all over the Country. Some bigger, some smaller. Some quite important, some barely known.

However, even after all those years, even after literally growing up in that World, the excitement, the sense of wonder, were still there with you, as strong as they had been on that very first day. That was the reason why this was total dream come true.

That, and the fact that you had the chance to forever link your name to a new character, taking the responsibility to lead the way for many other future actresses, maybe even becoming their reference point.

“y/n?”

… assuming things went in the best of ways, of course.

Sure, being associated with a success is a huge responsibility… but success doesn’t hold a candle to failure. Especially when your name is not a big one.

It wasn’t like no one knew who you were – after being in the business for so long, it was objectively impossible –, in fact, you had discovered that you had a quite strong and adorable fan base, and you couldn’t have been more grateful for that. You had never left theatre, though, and this was a double-edged sword.

You had been lucky enough to live your dream, while still getting to lead a private and somehow still grounded life, but your World was much smaller, much more fragile, than the one many of your colleagues – could you call them ‘colleagues’? – lived in.

You were easier to break. Easier to destroy. Easier to forget.

And if I fail, if I’m not good enough, it’ll be entirely my fault…

“You okay?”, a voice, accompanied by a snap of fingers, finally dared to interrupt your train of thoughts.

Your head snapped towards Cindy, who was standing right next to you. She was tall. Much taller than you. Always had been, ever since you could remember. Despite the fact that you were both wearing heels – very high heels, in your case –, you still didn’t even reach her cheekbones. Those beautifully high cheekbones, caressed by those incredibly long lashes.

Remind me again who’s the actress and who’s the manager…

Knowing you like the back of her hand, she wasn’t offended by your answer. Or rather, lack of. “Daydreaming again?”, she simply asked.

“I feel like a fraud”, you blurted out, your voice threatening to break on the last word.

Cindy arched an eyebrow, a sceptical look in her eyes. “Doesn’t sound like daydreaming to me.”

You shook your head, ignoring her teasing. “It’s not too late”, you tried again, your fingers wrapping themselves around her wrist. “We can still leave.”

“Stop it.” She freed her arm with a roll of her eyes. “They’re gonna love you.”

“Or maybe they’re gonna take a look at me, see that I look like a child wearing adult clothes, and kick me out faster than the speed of light as soon as I open my mouth”, you deadpanned, staring down at your restless hands, but immediately raising your head – and voice – when you felt a light pinch on your arm.

“Ouch!” You rubbed the skin through the fabric. “What was that for?”

“First of all”, Cindy began, pointing a finger at you. “You’re twenty-four and that dress looks great on you.” She lowered her hand and narrowed her eyes, a knowing smirk appearing on her face. “Second of all, it would be their loss, not yours.”

You were grateful for her words. But no matter how nice they were, your doubts remained stronger. “I mean it, Cin…”, you replied. “I’m not sure I’m the right person for this.”

“What makes you say that?”

“What makes you not say that?”, you countered, frustration and insecurity clear behind your apparently calm and relaxed tone. “I don’t even know what the script is about”, you started listing, your fingers keeping the count, but your gaze getting more and more lost with every passing word. “I don’t know how many characters the play has. Or the name of the main characters. Are there even main characters? Or is it a one-person-show? Or–”

Cindy simply cut you off with what had become her usual answer. “It’s top secret. They told me I couldn’t tell you anything.”

“Yeah. I know”, you huffed, biting the inside of your cheek. “Because they want to be the ones to introduce me to the story. I get it.”

You knew all too well that there was no point in trying to get any sort of information from her. Cindy was the type of person you could trust to keep a secret even under torture. By no doubt, an amazing and loyal friend. And an absolute nightmare of a manager when you were the one she had to keep things from.

She leaned her head towards yours a bit, as her voice was reduced to a whisper. “If it makes you feel better, I know a couple of things.”

“Please”, you scoffed. “Every time you say that, it means you already know life, death and miracles of every single character that’s gonna appear in the story.”

That sentence caused her to chuckle. “And that is why you should trust me when I tell you that this role is already yours”, she said, matter-of-factly, making it clear that nothing you could say or do would change her mind. “So, stop questioning my abilities.”

“I’m not questioning your abilities, Cin”, you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. You hated this. To sound like an ungrateful, untrusting brat was the last thing you wanted, and yet, there you were, doing just that because, hey, God forbid you might actually formulate some positive thoughts about you and your situation…

This time, you didn’t receive a pinch on your arm, but a gentle, yet firm squeeze on your elbow. “Just trust me, kid.”

“Don’t call me ‘kid’.”

“Don’t call me ‘baby’.”

Of course. She knew exactly where and how to hit.

“Don’t you dare use Taylor against me.” You stopped your lips from curling up into a smile, and instead forced them into a pout, pretending to look offended.

Cindy let go of your elbow, not even attempting to mask her satisfaction. “Then stop being a pain in the ass and be the actress I know you are.”

You were about to reply when you heard noises coming from the other side of the door. Your heart jumped into your throat, but you managed to stay still and to keep your face neutral. To an outside eye, you would’ve looked like someone with no worries, who was simply waiting to be received. Yes, you were dying on the inside, but you were an actress, after all.

And Cindy was right, it was the moment to show it.

Then, a sudden feeling appeared inside of you. One that you knew very well. It started in your chest, buzzing like a swarm of bees, getting stronger by the second, spreading from your stomach to your toes, from your knees to the back of your head. It was the same feeling you got every time you were about to hold a script in your hands, every time you were about to get into character, every time you were about to walk on stage.

And, just like that, fear vanished, getting lost like a distant memory, completely replaced by that excitement. That sense of wonder.

“There you are”, Cindy smirked, immediately sensing the change in you.

You raised your chin and straightened your back, finally putting an end to your nervous fidgeting as you watched the door open.

Easier to break. Easier to destroy. Easier to forget.

Well, y/n l/n, do your absolute best to make sure none of that happens.

Tagging: @isory @spideyspeaches @onewithnomightypowers

[flora-jimin]

𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔

Pairing: Ot7 (Jimin Centric)

Genre: Angst, Smut, PWP

Word Count: 6.7k

Rating: 18+

Summary:  Jimin starts to feel a little out of place and left out in their relationship.The boys make sure he knows he's just as important to them as they are to him.

Tags: Still Standing Verse, Sense8 Au, Jimin-centric, Poly Relationship, Self Loathing, Hurt/Comfort, Humiliation Kink, Makeup Sex, Overstimulation, Aftercare, Superpowers, Oral, Threesomse, Frotting, Voyeurism, Overstimulation, Crying During Sex, Superpowers During Sex

A/n: This oneshot was written months ago for a fic called Still Standing that I’ve been writing for over a year. It is a sense8 au where all the boys also have superpowers. If you’d like to read that, the link is in my bio on my blog, as it’s not a net approved fic, but for clarity’s sake, the superpower being used during sex is Yoongi’s umbrakinesis, or shadow manipulation.

AO3 Link

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been feeling left out lately.

Like today, with Jungkook and Taehyung going to the movies without him. Both of them eagerly holding hands and laughing as they were off to see a movie he had told them all months ago he was eager to see, it hurt.

“Oh, hyung, we figured you’d be at work during that time!”

It felt like a stab to the chest, but he only smiled and told them it was okay. He’d see it with Ji-Woo or he’d see it when the DVD came out.

When Hoseok and Yoongi paired up and disappeared into Yoongi’s studio to make music, he didn’t bother asking to join. Those two were often off in their own world when Yoongi let Hoseok into Genius Lab. It was a rule amongst their cluster not to go into Genius Lab unless Yoongi invited you in. The second oldest sensate took his personal space very seriously. So, Jimin only smiled and told them he hoped they came up with something good when he saw Yoongi take Hoseok’s hand and disappear behind the door.

Besides, he couldn’t rap like they did. He’d probably just be in the way.

When Jin was making lunch for Namjoon and talking about how the two were going to head out to Han River for a date, Jimin only bit back a smile and handed Jin the condiments and utensils the oldest had asked him for as he helped out.

He helped make the lunch, why wasn’t he invited too? Why couldn’t he go to Han River and be with them, too?

Jimin clenched his fists as he sat at the dinner table. Everyone was out. He was alone.

Again.

His head whirred as he felt all six men, all of them having the time of their lives. He felt them, didn’t they feel him? Did they care? Jimin felt a creeping sense of dread start to eat at him. Maybe they all didn’t need him anymore.

He put his head down, tears stinging his eyes as that inner voice got louder, belittling him and dragging him further into the pit of self loathing he’d found himself in.

“What do you even do? What do you have to bring to the table?” It sneered at him and Jimin squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

“You’re just some barista with a mediocre grip on your powers, you’re the weakest link out of all of the cluster and you know it. You’re a joke, Park Jimin, everyone’s laughing.”

He clutched his head, his chest heaving as he tried to ignore that voice. It was his own inner thoughts betraying him, and this wasn’t the first time he’d heard it insult him.

It never hurt this bad, though.

“-im? Chim? Fuck! Hyung, he’s crying!”

Jimin only barely registered Hoseok’s voice in his ears. He curled up tighter, biting his lip. The Busan boy didn’t want to bother anyone. They were having so much fun without him anyway and-

Yoongi’s face came into his view as those big hands picked his head up from the cocoon he’d made with his arms. He could barely see the second oldest, but he felt a strong pulse of concern through their link and he couldn’t help himself from breaking down and sobbing in his hands.

Hoseok startled from behind him and Yoongi’s lips pursed as he pulled him into his arms, letting the smallest man cry against his neck. He looked to Hoseok and nodded towards the bedroom.

“Pick him up. We should get him somewhere more comfortable.” He instructed as Jimin sobbed louder. Hoseok nodded, one arm sliding under the barista’s legs before he nudged Jimin’s head with his lips.

“C’mon baby boy, arms around my neck. We’re gonna take care of you.” He cooed, nearly missing a step when Jimin clung suddenly to his neck. He could feel the tears rolling down his neck as he walked him to the other room, biting his lip in worry.

Yoongi followed right behind him, lips a thin line as he felt Jimin’s flared up emotions vibrating through the link from all the boys. It overrode everyone else’s emotions and Yoongi could feel the worry and confusion coming from the four missing boys at the sudden fever pitch of negative emotions.

Hoseok sat down with Jimin in his lap, rocking him slightly to calm him, even a fraction. Yoongi crawled onto the bed right after him, gently prying Jimin’s hands away from Hoseok’s neck and moving his face so he looked him in the eyes. Jimin’s lip wobbled, his eyes bloodshot as snot rolled down his nose.

“You poor thing...what happened? Why are you crying?” Hoseok inquired, reaching into the bedside table to fish out a box of tissues. He gently wiped Jimin’s cheeks before pressing the tissues to his nose. Jimin held his wrist and blew weakly, feeling a slight relief from the congestion of his nose as Yoongi’s cat-like eyes watched his every move, concern shining in his face.

He looked away from Yoongi, guilt pulsing through their link.

He’d made them stop their fun to humor his little breakdown. He really was the worst.

Yoongi and Hoseok felt the second pulse of guilt get overridden with the feeling of self loathing, and without sharing a word, both men sandwiched Jimin in between them from a group hug.

The smallest man tensed, tears springing up in his eyes again. He wanted more attention from them, yes, but the doubt of his own self worth kept him from enjoying the sensation. He hated this feeling.

“Talk to us, baby. What happened?” Hoseok tried again and Jimin clenched his fists before burying his face in Yoongi’s shoulder.

“Do...do you all still love me? Am I in the way?” He inquired softly. Both men tensed and the other four stood around him, eyes wide.

“Jimin-”

“No one wants to spend time with me anymore. The movies, the music, the dates...why is everyone avoiding me?” Jimin’s voice quivered as he spoke and he did his best to formulate actual sentences.

“I...I feel like a third wheel to this relationship. Is everyone ignoring my emotions? I know you can feel them and-”

“No, no baby it’s not like that.” Namjoon was at his side in a moment, kissing his cheeks as he cupped his cheeks. Jimin looked up at him and Namjoon felt his heart break.

God, they fucked up.

“I’m not going to make any excuses for any of us. We should have noticed. You’re not a third wheel, baby. We love you.” Their leader continued with his soothing tone. Jimin lowered his eyes to Yoongi’s shoulder, unable to meet any of their gazes.

The other men all exchanged looks, but none of them said a word until the fatigue of the day caused Jimin to pass out slowly.

Once they all felt he was completely asleep, all eyes turned to their leader as they all visited from their respective locations.

Namjoon was driving back to their shared home, jaw set while Jungkook leaned up from the back seat.

“What are we going to do? We really messed up bad.” He voiced what they were all thinking and they shared a collective harsh sigh.

“We have to make it up to him. It was our own negligence that lead to this. Apologize properly when he’s awake and make sure he feels loved. Jimin is an important part of our cluster and our lives and I don’t want him-or any of you-to ever feel like this. We’re gonna let him rest and start tomorrow.” He told them, the determination to fix this problem shining in his eyes. Jungkook relaxed back into the seat and nodded with the rest of them.

-The Next Morning-

When Jimin woke up, the first thing he noticed was his inability to move. He was wedged between Namjoon and Taehyung and when he lifted his head to locate the other men, he saw he was the one who had taken the middle spot, with the other five (Jin seemed to be missing from the pile) men keeping him warm. He blushed and wiggled, trying to free himself from the pile.

It was a difficult task, but eventually he managed to do so, shuffling carefully out of the center so he wouldn’t step on any of his slumbering boyfriends. He looked back at them, a bittersweet smile on his face when he saw them all.

They all looked so perfect, even without him there.

He felt a twinge of that self loathing come back, so he ducked his head and left the room, not noticing Namjoon peeking at him through one of his cracked open eyes.

Jimin made his way to the kitchen, seeing Jin had started cooking breakfast. He placed a hand against the doorway, knocking gently to get his attention. Jin smiled at him and he responded with a soft smile of his own.

“‘Mornin, hyung.” he greeted.

“Good morning, Chim. I’ll be making your favorite pancakes, too. Have a seat, alright?” Jin instructed, turning back to the stove. Jimin hesitated before he moved to sit, playing with his fingers as he waited.

He stared at Jin’s back as he cooked, watching the oldest glide around the kitchen, plucking seasonings and foods from cabinets, the fridge, and the freezer effortlessly as he made their large breakfast.

“Hyung, do you need any help?” Jimin inquired after five minutes had gone by. Jin slid the breakfast sausages into the oven and nodded.

“If you could, could you come over here and mix the batter for the pancakes? We’ll need a lot.” Jin told him, offering him a large mixing bowl. Jimin smiled, grateful Jin was giving him the opportunity to help. He was hoping they wouldn’t be mad at him after his outburst yesterday.

He chewed on his lip as Jin began washing out some fruits in the sink.

“Hyung...about last night...can we forget it? Can we pretend I didn’t say those things? I didn’t mean to accuse you all of not loving me and ignoring me…”He trailed off. The kitchen fell into a silence as Jin kept his eyes on the strawberries in his palm. The oldest sighed and tapped the back of the faucet to shut the water off. He picked up the strainer the fruit was in, letting the water drain out of it before he moved to Jimin’s side, slicing some of the red berries.

“You shouldn’t apologize for telling us how you feel. If we made you feel like this, you should say it. That way we can make sure we don’t ever let it get this bad again. You’re important to us.” Jin hummed, taking the cut berries in his hands and walking behind Jimin, who had slowed his stirring as he thoughtfully looked into the white mix.

Jin dropped the berries into the bowl, pressing Jimin against the counter as he wrapped his arms around his back. The smaller man nearly dropped the bowl, had Jin not have closed his larger hands over Jimin’s.

“We’re sorry. The only ones who should be apologizing is us.” Jin spoke directly into his ear and Jimin felt his knees buckle slightly. He had a weak spot for being pinned down, but now wasn’t the time for him to be getting excited over nothing.

“But I-”

“Shh. We have to make breakfast.” Jin teased, placing his hand over Jimin’s as they stirred the batter. The younger man nodded and complied, trying not to think about how close Jin was to him.

Or how many times the members of the cluster had fooled around in the kitchen.

Jin noticed the pulse of embarrassment and arousal radiating off of the smaller man and he grinned, setting the bowl down and placing his palms down on the counter by either side of Jimin’s hips.

He peppered Jimin’s neck in kisses, smiling when the smaller man tried to suppress his giggles. Jimin blushed to the tips of his ears, breath hitching up when he felt Jin palming the front of his quickly tenting boxers.

“H-hyung, the breakfast…”Jimin protested, though he pressed closer to Jin’s hand. The older man smiled against the pale skin of his neck.

“The oven is on low. I can be quick, just keep stirring.” Jin gave his ass a slap and sunk to his knees and Jimin gasped when he felt the cool air of the kitchen hit his ass as Jin tugged his boxers down as he went.

“Turn around for me, Chim.” Jin purred and Jimin obeyed, flustered. His hands shook as he held onto the mixing bowl, his cock twitching as Jin teasingly blew along the length. He took Jimin’s cock in his hand and ran his tongue up the underside from base to tip, reveling in the full-body shiver that went through the younger sensate.

Jin made a point to watch every expression on Jimin’s face as he bobbed his head, taking a bit more each time. Jimin’s grip on the spoon and bowl tightened as he let out a shaky breath, resisting the urge to roll his hips up into the warm sensation of Jin’s mouth. The oldest used one of his hands to stroke whatever wasn’t in his mouth, pulling Jimin closer with his other hand.

“H-Hyung! Please…” Jimin whined, biting his lip when Jin rolled his tongue over his sensitive head. He made a point to sound as sloppy as he could, enjoying the way Jimin’s resolve broke. He set the bowl aside without another moment’s hesitation, one hand shakily on the back of Jin’s head.

Jin could tell he was holding back, probably afraid he would choke the older man if he thrusted up. In response, he removed his own hand from Jimin’s dick, eyes sliding closed as he took the entirety of Jimin’s cock in his mouth.

The smaller man was far from the biggest or thickest out of the seven men, but Jin still enjoyed giving him blowjobs as much as he did the others.

Mostly because Jimin was the most responsive one.

“H-Hyung, more. Oh my god…” Jimin tilted his head back, giving Jin an experimental few thrusts to make sure he didn’t catch him off-guard. Jin took it in stride, placing a hand on his thigh. They often used signals during sex to make sure they were all on the same page in case it wasn’t clear through their connection.

Jimin could feel that Jin was relaxed and eager, and the light tap on his thigh was a sign from the oldest to do what he wanted.

Fingers shaking, Jimin ran his fingers into Jin’s hair, gripping firmly as he thrusted forward, shaky mewls leaving his lips as he fucked his hyung’s mouth. Jin was painfully hard himself from the treatment and teasing as he shifted on his knees, dipping his hand into his own pajama pants to stroke his aching cock.

“W-We’re gonna wake the others if you stay so loud, Jiminie~” Jin teased as he popped his mouth off for a moment, knowing full well the other men wouldn’t be able to ignore the dual sense of arousal rolling off the two men in waves. Jin pulled his sleep pants down more so he could stroke himself more freely while Jimin blushed, his bottom lip plumper than usual from him biting it to keep his moans down.

It was a fruitless effort since they were all connected, but that made it all that much cuter, in Jin’s opinion.

“Fuuck fuck fuck I’m close. Hyung!” Jimin’s hips began to stutter, so Jin pressed hum flush against the counter, taking over by bobbing his head quicker than he was before. Jimin’s grip in his hair tightened to the point that it was borderline painful, but Jin wasn’t at all opposed to the jolt that came from the action. He stroked himself at the same pace as his head movements, his thumb smearing precum over his head as he watched Jimin unravel before him.

“G-Gonna cum gonna cum, please please please-” Jimin pulled harder, this time trying to yank Jin off before he came in his mouth, but the oldest wouldn’t budge, swallowing around Jimin’s twitching cock.

All it took was a few more bobs before Jimin came with a cry, rope after rope of cum filling Jin’s mouth. He swallowed most of it, pulling off of Jimin’s cock as he continued stroking himself, feeling his own release quickly approaching.

He glanced up, seeing Jimin stare down at him with lust-blown eyes, cheeks red and sweat rolling down his temple as he held his gaze. The older Sensate’s eyes moved to his lips as Jimin weakly called to him.

“H-Hyung…”

Jin came nearly on the spot, the milky drops landing on the dark tile of the kitchen between his knees.

They all had a soft spot for Jimin’s lips. Honestly, who wouldn’t?

Jimin blushed and moved to get paper towels as Jin tucked himself back into his pants. The older man took them as soon as he returned, refusing to let Jimin clean up the mess. Jimin pouted at him as he watched the older man clean. Jin ignored him and stood to dispose of the soiled tissues, moving to go to the sink to wash his hands.

“You came a lot. Have you been pent up, baby?” Jin teased after a moment of silence, hands soapy. Jimin blushed hard and went to swat at him when he noticed Jin still had a bit of his cum at the corner of his lips.

Blushing, he leaned up to lick it off, shying when Jin sent him a coy look.

Later, when the rest of the boys filed into the kitchen one by one, Yoongi took note of the difference in the piles of pancakes between the boys.

“Didn’t you want more food, Jin? You barely have any on your plate.” He mused.

Jin only smiled as he drank his coffee.

“I had some breakfast earlier, actually.” He chirped, and Jimin choked from across the table.

-2 Days Later, Cafe Thief’s Heart-

Jimin sighed as he brewed the next batch of coffee. There was a customer outside that had been giving him trouble for a while now, but he did his best not to let it get to him. Ji-Woo would no doubt cause a scene and both Taehyung and Jungkook were usually busy helping out somewhere else in the cafe to come to his aid.

He shook his head, slapping his cheeks. He had to focus.

There’s no way he should need the younger men to run to his aid, anyway.

He exhaled and brought the ice coffee to the man with a slice of cake, shuddering at the way the middle-aged man eyed him when he set the food down. He stood and politely bowed and went to leave when the man leaned up and sent him a flirtatious smile.

“Y’know, I think you’re pretty cute, Jimin. Maybe we could get this to go, hm?” He winked and Jimin felt physically ill. Despite that, he sent him his best customer service smile and shook his head.

“No thank you, sir. If you’d like, I could put your things in to-go containers.” He offered. The man’s face turned and he rolled his eyes.

“Think you’re too good to go out with me? Pathetic. It would be your honor to date someone with as much wealth as I have.” He grunted, clearly annoyed he had been rejected. Jimin’s brow twitched in annoyance. Though he didn’t have the most highest of paying jobs working for Ji-Woo’s cafe, but he enjoyed working with his best friend more than anything.

Plus, several of his partners had more than enough wealth that even if that was the defining factor in whether he went out with someone (it wasn’t. How shallow is that?), they had that more than covered.

“That’s too bad you feel like that. Enjoy your order, sir.” Jimin muttered through gritted teeth as he spun on his heel. He had gotten around four steps away before he heard the sound of glass breaking.

Closing his eyes and collecting himself, he turned, rage bubbling up when he saw the cake slice on the floor and the man faking a shocked expression.

“Oh no, my cake fell! Could you clean this up, Jimin? Someone could fall on this.” He informed him, taking a sip of his iced coffee. Jimin gritted his teeth and went to grab a small bag they kept in their aprons, kneeling down to pick up the large glass pieces first. The man swirled the iced coffee for a moment before he popped the cap off, looking into the cup.

“I think you should check this out too, Jim-Jim. It doesn’t taste right. You agree, right?” The man sneered, pouring the iced coffee on Jimin’s head. The small man leapt up, a startled gasp leaving his lips as the cold drink rolled down the back of his neck and down his shirt. He shook, tears sprouting up in the corners of his eyes as the other customers turned their attention to the scene.

“I told you I wanted a double shot of vanilla syrup in it. Couldn’t get that right either?” The man chuckled. Jimin clenched his fists, body shaking as he felt the fresh embarrassment roll over him.

Before anyone could see him cry, a towel fell over his head and he was pulled against a warm body. Blinking, he looked up to see Taehyung standing protectively over him while Jungkook yanked the man up by his shirt. The youngest man sent him a dangerous smile, ignoring all the complaining about harassment from the man as he began dragging him outside.

“You all see this! This is assault and harassment! I’ll ruin you!” He barked,

Ji-Woo stood at the counter, arms crossed.

“Get this trash out of my shop. I absolutely don’t condone customers treating my employees and friends like shit.”

“Don’t worry, dude. You’re free to try that slick shit with me.” Jungkook threatened as he pulled him outside. The other customers began chattering, but not a single one looked like they would call the police on them, so Jimin was relieved. Tae frowned and looked down at him.

“Hyung...you’re shaking. C’mon, lets get you out of that. Woo-Ya, Kook and I are gonna take him home when he gets changed. Is that okay?” He inquired. Ji-Woo smiled and nodded.

“It’s fine. Minjun and I can hold down the fort. It’s almost closing time anyway.” She waved them off and Tae bowed in gratitude, pulling Jimin into the back room.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he pulled the uniform shirt off. Jimin nodded, coffee still dripping from his hair. His shirt was no doubt ruined, but he couldn’t help the warm feeling of relief that filled him. He felt more appreciated each day and although he would much rather do without the altercation moments ago, he still felt his heart swell two sizes from Tae and Jungkook coming to his aid.

“Hyung, you’re spacing out.” Tae teased. Jimin blushed and both of them startled when Jungkook slammed the door to the room, storming in as he marched up to the shorter Busan native. He took Jimin’s face in his hands, checking for injuries before he made eye contact.

“I beat his ass.”

“I know. Thank you, Kook.” He cooed, pressing his cold hands on top of Jungkook’s. The maknae sent him a smile and gave him his jacket. Jimin noticed Taehyung and Jungkook kept him firmly wedged between them as they walked home.

He blushed and smiled, inhaling Jungkook’s scent.

-30 Minutes Later-

Y’know, he didn’t mean this when he said they had him wedged between them, but he wouldn’t complain.

Currently, Jimin was straddling Taehyung’s waist, both of their cocks slick with cum as they rutted against one another while Jungkook had a near bruising grip on the older man’s waist, hips slapping against Jimin’s plump ass as he rocked into him.

Shortly after he took a shower (with both of them insisting they join), the three youngest sensates stumbled into the bedroom, soaked bodies falling to the sheets. It was a flurry of hands groping at whatever they could (“We’ve got to make sure to warm you up real good, hyung”) and lips on skin (“You still taste like coffee, Jiminie. Delicious.”)

Taehyung had fucked him first, kissing the back of his neck while Jungkook stroked both his and Jimin’s cocks in unison, groaning against his lips as they kissed. He’d barely had a chance to rest before the two switched positions, with Jungkook fucking him much faster than Tae did, leaving Jimin a babbling mess as each thrust sent his cock sliding against Taehyung’s.

He leaned down to kiss him sloppily, the desperate growls leaving Jungkook’s lips behind him telling them both that he was close. The youngest leaned down, effectively sandwiching Jimin between them both.

“So pretty, hyung. You gonna cum? You wanna show Tae Tae that beautiful face when you do?” He teased, pulling Jimin’s hair so he arched up. Taehyung looked up, groaning when he saw how far gone Jimin was.

He lifted his own hips, thrusting against Jimin’s cock faster while Jungkook fucked him hard. It wasn’t much longer until all three of them came, sweat and cum running down their bodies as they collapsed on top of one another.

“Aigoo, you’re both heavy! Get off!” Tae complained half heartedly. Jungkook sent him a crooked smile and Jimin kissed his nose to appease him. They all broke out into comfortable laughter and laid together until they had enough energy to drag themselves out of bed and take another shower, making sure to change the sheets before any of their hyungs got home.

The other four came home to them cuddling in a pile together.

-3 Days Later, Genius Lab-

“Nnng….”

“Ah, you wanted to make music, Jimine. The recording won’t pick it up if you hold back.”

“T-This isn’t what I-ohh fuck yes yes-this isn’t what I meant!”

“If audio doesn’t work, we could always shoot a ‘music video’.”

Jimin was about to come up with a retort, but Hoseok picked up his pace, rolling his hips expertly as he rocked into the smaller man. Yoongi had been calmly teasing him the whole time, lazily stroking his dick from across the room as he watched the two fuck like rabbits on the couch he had in his studio.

Hmph. Voyeur.

“Hobi fuck! Right there right there yes!” He gasped, nails running down Hoseok’s back as the pyromancer hit him just right. Hoseok licked his lips and sat up, hooking his hands under the back of Jimin’s knees, holding them apart as he rocked into him.

“O-Ohh fuck fuck fuck!” Jimin threw his head back, cock leaking against his abs as his balls drew up, feeling another orgasm creeping closer.

“He’s gonna cum again, Yoongs. Look at him.” Hoseok purred affectionately, thumbs rubbing the back of Jimin’s thighs. Jimin trembled, looking over at Yoongi and whining pathetically.

“I-I want to make you feel good too, hyung. Ahh, fuck!” Jimin closed his eyes, moments away from his orgasm when it suddenly…..stopped.

He gasped in surprise, eyes flying open as Hoseok spilled inside of him again, but his own orgasm was prevented by the shadow wrapped around his cock, effectively preventing him from cumming. He panted, looking over at Yoongi as the oldest man in the room sent him a coy smile.

“H-Hyung-”

“You said you wanted to make me feel good. I would never deny my baby boy that. What kind of mean hyung do you think I am?” The DJ cooed, sending him a sly smile. Hoseok laughed tiredly, gently sliding out of Jimin. He could tell Yoongi was about to take over and he didn’t want to miss a moment.

They all loved when he got like this.

“C’mon then, Jimin. Come make me feel better, then.” Yoongi beckoned him over in a tone that told Jimin there was something more to it. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited. He slid off the couch, still feeling weak from the several times he and Hoseok had fucked previously. He panted, blushing as he felt mentioned man’s cum start to leak down his thighs.

Yoongi noticed and smirked, raising his hand.

A shadow shaped like a hand scooped up some of the cum, lifting it to Jimin’s lips. The barista didn’t hesitate, flicking his tongue to lick it off immediately. Yoongi’s chest rumbled in satisfaction and he propped his head up on his chin, lips quirking as he saw Jimin’s knees buckle again as he tried to continue walking.

“Maybe you should crawl. Wouldn’t want you to fall, baby.” Yoongi offered, still stroking his cock with his free hand. Jimin nodded and got on his hands and knees, biting his lip as he felt his still-restricted cock bob from the motion.

“Oh, hyung you're a real sadist.” Hoseok chuckled, eyes trained on Jimin’s ass as he made his way to Yoongi slowly. The DJ didn’t respond verbally, but the look of satisfaction on his face told them both all that they needed to know.

He really did love using his powers during sex.

Jimin was around a foot or two away from the chair Yoongi was sitting in when the older man decided he hadn’t teased him enough. He sat up, flicking the hand that wasn’t on his cock. In moments, Jimin’s knees almost failed him as he felt something slide into his slick hole.

His cheeks went red as he watched Yoongi’s hand move, the shadow fucking him hard. He groaned, forehead dropping to the floor as he let himself be taken.

“What’s wrong, Jimin? If you wanted to please me, you should be able to crawl over here still, yes? Or does it feel too good?” He taunted, spreading his fingers apart.

Jimin’s eyes nearly rolled back as he felt it expand, growing thicker than it was before. Each thrust was a deliberate, hard jab that always got so close to his spot but never went deep enough to satisfy him. The ring around his cock was a reminder that he wouldn’t be feeling any release until Yoongi was satisfied, either.

“C’mon baby. Don’t you want your Hyung’s cock?” Yoongi teased, licking his own precum off of his fingers. Jimin nodded, slowly resuming his crawling. His mewls and moans filled the soundproofed room as he god closer and closer, body shuddering as he felt oh so close to orgasm.

It took two and a half minutes before Jimin reached Yoongi, panting as he rested his head on Yoongi’s leg, rocking his ass back against the shadow still fucking him. The man had came dry at least once and Yoongi smiled down at him, petting his head.

“Good boy, Jimin. You got enough energy to ride my cock?”

“Mmmnm.”

“Words, baby.”

“Y-Yes, Yoongi.”

Satisfied, Yoongi dispelled the shadow, chuckling when he heard Jimin whine in disapproval. He kissed his cheek and picked him up, seating Jimin in his lap as he held his cock up for him.

“C’mon baby. Show me how much you want this dick.” He ordered, slapping his ass. Jimin gasped and nodded, sinking down on Yoongi’s thick dick. His eyes nearly rolled back in pleasure as he felt himself being filled again. He leaned closer to Yoongi, pressing loving kisses to his face as he let his hips rise and fall.

Yoongi kissed and bit at his neck, hands on his hips as he growled sweet nothings into his ear, the wet sound of their fucking turning Hoseok on. He noticed the irony in the situation, with him and Yoongi switching places as he now watched the older man fuck their boyfriend.

Jimin was already sensitive from several other rounds, so Yoongi didn’t tease him for too long. He could feel the man already start to float away from the sheer amount of pleasure he’d gotten that night.

Pale arms wrapped around Jimin’s body and Yoongi took over, rocking hard and fast into him as the shadow around Jimin’s cock released. The older man kept him grounded as Jimin cried out, cumming hard against Yoongi’s stomach, nearly passing out from the stimulation. Yoongi kept him tight against his chest, cumming himself once he felt Jimin’s slick walls clench around him. The strong pulse of ecstasy from Jimin pushed Hoseok into another orgasm and all of them took a minute or two to collect themselves.

Yoongi could feel Jimin crying in his arms, still not quite down from the high of sex. He cooed gently, kissing him as he picked him up. Hoseok smiled tiredly and followed him, all three of them washing off by taking a bath.

Jimin was sat between Yoongi’s legs, sleepily nuzzling his chest as Hoseok sat behind him, washing his hair. Both men kissed him periodically, telling him how much of a good job he did and he was out like a light before he even knew it.

Hoseok and Yoongi exchanged a fond smile before they carried Jimin to bed.

-3 Nights Later-

Jimin squirmed as Namjoon’s hands ran over his back. The older man had offered to give the younger man a massage, and Jimin couldn’t turn down an opportunity to spend time with him.

Plus, if this was anything like the others, he knew where this was going.

“The others really did a number on you, hm? You’ve got hickies and bruises.” Namjoon hummed, looking at the bruises over Jimin’s hips and the slight discoloration of his ass from spanking. He’d noticed the circles littering Jimin’s neck and chest when he massaged his front.

None of them would admit it, but they all had little competitions to leave as many hickies as they could and with how adamant they all were to make sure Jimin never felt excluded again, he had a few more love bites than usual.

“It wasn’t anything I didn’t like. I really appreciate everyone.” Jimin muttered, groaning in relief when Namjoon started to work a particularly tense knot out of his lower back. He hummed in delight.

“I’m glad. We really are sorry we made you feel like that. I’ve been paying extra careful attention to the links, too. I want to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Namjoon told him, hands moving down to squeeze and knead at his ass.

Jimin blushed and bit his lip.

“I-I appreciate it.” He murmured, twitching when Namjoon pressed a kiss to his spine.

“I didn’t offer to give you a massage with the intent to fuck you, but feel free to tell me if that’s what you want.” He teased, fingers running closer to Jimin’s crack. He spread them for a moment before moving further down.

Jimin sighed shakily, feeling Namjoon’s breath on the back of his thighs. He felt bold today, so he lifted his ass, shaking slightly.

“Are you gonna deliver if it is what I want?” He inquired. Namjoon flashed him a dimpled smirk before he continued massaging the back of his thighs.

“You know I will. Just say so.”

“I want it.”

Immediately, those hands were off of his thighs and back on his ass, long fingers sliding between his cheeks to tease his asshole, chuckling when Jimin took it upon himself to spread his cheek apart, fully exposing his eager hole to the other man.

“We’ve really made you shameless, huh?” Namjoon chuckled, sliding two of his fingers into him. Jimin sighed and pressed his cheek to the pillow.

“Y-You can say that.” He murmured, his cock stirring to life as Namjoon pumped his fingers in and out, slowly scissoring them apart. Jimin didn’t need much prep since he had been so active recently, but Namjoon prefered to slowly pick his boyfriends apart before he fucked them. It was something that drove the more impatient ones mad, but they never complained seriously about his methods.

He pulled his fingers free when Jimin began rocking back, replacing them with his tongue, flicking deviously at his rim before he slid it right inside. Jimin’s fists tightened in the sheets as Namjoon’s tongue worked in and out of him. The ex-nurse raked his fingers down Jimin’s thighs lightly, humming when he felt the goosebumps rise up on his skin immediately afterwards.

Jimin’s small mewls turned into pants as minutes went by and Namjoon didn’t let up until Jimin was practically begging him to do more.

He gave his ass a playful slap as he sat up, tapping Jimin’s leg to get his attention as he unbuckled his pants.

“Turn around, baby. I want to watch your face.” He told him and Jimin blushed, hesitantly rolling onto his back. Namjoon looked down at him, his big hand wrapping around Jimin’s cock, giving him a few strokes as he lined his head up to his ass with his free hand.

“You ready?”

“Yes, Joon.” Jimin nodded, love and adoration shining in his eyes. Namjoon leaned down to kiss him, distracting him from the momentary discomfort from the initial penetration. Jimin gasped against his lips and Namjoon slid his tongue into his mouth, kissing him deeper.

Jimin realized Namjoon was letting him set the pace of the kiss as he slowly rocked into him and he teasingly nibbled his bottom lip, wrapping his arms around the older man’s neck. Namjoon chuckled arily and responded with a deep thrust before returning to his sensual pace.

When he broke the kiss, Jimin was panting. Namjoon kissed at his throat, and he waited for the familiar sting of a bite or nibble, but was instead met with more kisses as Namjoon made his way down until he flicked his tongue over one of his nipples. Jimin shuddered and Namjoon chuckled against the hardened bud, rolling the other one between his fingers as he relished every small gasp and moan that tumbled out of the smaller man.

“J-Joonie...Ahh please faster.”

Ah, there was the begging.

Namjoon would normally tease him for much longer, but instead, he pushed both of Jimin’s hands above his head, pinning them there as he increased his pace dramatically. The barista cried out in delight, arching his back as Namjoon fucked him. There were lips against his face, his cheeks, and even his chest and Jimin could feel he wouldn’t last as long as usual if this kept up this way.

“Look at you, baby, You’re so handsome when you fall apart for me. Look at me,” Namjoon nudged him, rolling his hips so the tip of his cock brushed against Jimin’s sweet spot with each thrust. Moaning louder and struggling to focus, Jimin looked up, finding Namjoon staring lovingly at him. The others were around him on the bed and in his lust-hazed mind, he couldn’t tell if they were actually there or visiting him through their connection.

“We love you baby. Don’t forget that.”

It didn’t matter which one said it. It could’ve been one of them, or all of them, but Jimin just closed his eyes. His voice cracked as he cried out, cumming with Namjoon. He felt the aftershocks of sex and trembled, pressing close to Namjoon when the larger man hugged him.

He rocked Jimin, kissing his head as he reached into their bedside table. They always kept tissues and wipes there for obvious reasons. Jimin shivered when Namjoon wiped the cum off his stomach and the cum from between his legs, smiling tiredly at their leader after he tossed it in the bedside trash can.

Namjoon pulled him in close, tucking Jimin’s head under his chin. Jimin happily hugged him back, the sound of Namjoon’s heartbeat being comforting. Namjoon rubbed soothing circles against his back, kissing the top of his head as he started to drift off.

“I love you guys.” Jimin murmured sleepily, eyes heavy. Namjoon chuckle and closed his eyes.

“And we love you, Jimin.” Namjoon responded, and the strong pulse of love and contentedness was something they all felt through their connections.

[heartbeatan]

No Expectations (Chapter 1)

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Chapter 1

You weren’t quite sure you had heard Taehyung’s words clearly so you couldn’t help but stare blankly back at him as your brain tried to process the declaration. You couldn’t have possibly heard what you thought you heard. It didn’t make any sense.

It had been three years since you met Jae, who you thought was the love of your life; 18 months since you two had gotten married; 15 months since you got pregnant; 6 months since you had your baby; 4 months since you were diagnosed with postpartum depression; and, 12 weeks since your husband walked out on you.

Walked out was putting it lightly. He ran and you didn’t even hear the starter pistol. One day, after he refused, once again, to join you on your routine check-up with the pediatrician, you returned home to find him waiting for you with a short stack of documents. Legal documents. One executing a divorce; one signing over his parental rights; and, another agreeing to transfer you enough money to buy out his portion of the mortgage and four years worth of his son’s college tuition – an impressive feat given that the man barely lasted a year in any job and wouldn’t have the job he was in now if it wasn’t for you who had been editorializing his resume and sending it out to prospective employers. Since you also managed the household expenses, you weren’t sure how he had managed to secretly shell away so much money, or if he had perhaps come by it by some other means. Regardless, it was a monumental enough sum that proved he wanted nothing to do with you or with his child and that he was willing to put himself on skid row in order to get out of it. Perhaps, if you had a clearer head, you would have refused to sign the agreement and at least taken it to a lawyer. The amount was a lot for him in the short term, but it certainly wasn’t enough to account for everything he legally would have owed you and your son for. However, you were so furious, hurt, and offended that you signed your name then and there and swore that he’d never be allowed to recant if he ever wanted to have a relationship with Woori. Unphased, he left, with his copy of the documents, a single suitcase which couldn’t have possibly accounted for everything he owned but again, his desire to leave meant he was fine with abandoning his non-essential belongings… except for the Play Station.

In hindsight, perhaps you should have seen the signs, but you had been so focused on preparing to bring a life into the world that his late nights, passive aggressive undertones and general disinterest in you or your impending offspring went unnoticed. Perhaps you chose not to notice. Perhaps you rationalized that his attitude would change once he finally laid eyes on his child, and he and your relationship would return to some level of normalcy. But that sadly wasn’t the case.

Instead, he became even more distant and more unavailable. You blamed yourself for causing the rift and took pity on him that he had to put up with you, on top of work and the stresses of being a new parent. You thought daily if you could just hold on and just survive a little bit longer then everything would be fine. You would become the woman he fell in love with, you would shower him with all the passion and affection you once did, and life would become blissful once again. He didn’t hold on though. You found out days after he left that he had moved in with his new girlfriend, so chances were he hadn’t been fighting for your marriage for a long time.  

After the anger had passed and you began to accept your new life as a single mother, you came face-to-face with the reality that you were lonely. You had moved to this city for work without intention of staying, but, after you met Jae you decided making a life with him was worth living permanently 10,000 kilometres away from your family and close friends. Most of your friends here were through Jae’s friends so you felt especially awkward to hang out with them, nonetheless risk Jae finding out you were a mess without him.

The only people you had really remained in contact with were Jae’s parents. They were disappointed and embarrassed by how their son treated you and how he could abandon their grandson; last you heard they had only started speaking to him recently. Mostly they desperately wanted to have a relationship with Woori and you were happy to allow that – they weren’t the culprits after all. You were pretty sure they were also the ones dropping grocery gift cards in your mailbox – a God send since between Jae leaving and your maternity pay, the household income had been cut so heavily. Despite them making you feel welcome, it still wasn’t a perfect support system; they were still Jae’s parents after all.

You were tired, broke, alone, poorly nourished on takeout food, and the house and yard was a mess. You still hadn’t lost the baby weight which made you feel like a failure and also made you say “what’s the point” to your regular personal hygiene routine. The more and more you sunk deeper into your lonely and dark routine of “just survive” the more and more anxious you became and the more you isolated yourself from the world.

That’s why when Kim Taehyung, one of Jae’s childhood best friends, arrived out-of-the blue at your door, you were trying your best to keep him occupied in the kitchen; it was a means to keep him away from the shambled living room, your form hidden behind the kitchen island, and a way to send him the message that he wasn’t to stay too long.

Nonetheless, you offered him some water and you two chatted for a while about the news, weather, and friend gossip – of course avoiding the topic of Jae. It was nice to have an adult conversation again and you were finding his company to lift your spirits. But why was he here? Taehyung definitely knew Jae didn’t live there anymore, and he had never stopped into see just you before – you were never that close. When you mustered up the courage to ask why he had come, his answer hit you like an anvil.

“Sorry,” you shook your head. “I don’t think I heard you right.”

“I’m in love with you,” he replied awkwardly as if he wasn’t sure of the answer; perhaps his insecurity is what made you misunderstand him the first time – or that fact that this news came out of absolutely nowhere.

“I--- are you sure?”

“I’m pretty sure.”

“Oh… since when?”

“Since basically the beginning,” he replied as if he was answering a question about how long he’s been able to ride a bike.

“Oh…” you couldn’t believe you were having this conversation so casually. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do with this information. You certainly weren’t in love with him and you certainly weren’t ready to start dating again. But you liked Taehyung and wanted to let him down as gently as possible. Before you could formulate how to do that, he stopped you.

“Listen, before you say anything, I have no expectations. I didn’t come here to ask you to be my girlfriend. I know you’ve got way more important things than dating on your mind right now, I just…” he paused to collect his thoughts before he continued. “I just know a little bit about how difficult a time this can be for you. My sister went through the same thing and I saw how she struggled – and she still had a full-time husband at home.” You realize then that Taehyung was referring to your postpartum. “I also know you don’t have any family here and that you haven’t seen the women in a while. It’s difficult to feel alone…”

A crash interrupted Taehyung’s monologue as Woori chucked his toy car off the highchair and onto the floor. Unphased, Taehyung picked it up and cooed at Woori before returning it. Of all “the men” in your group, Taehyung had always been the best with children, despite not having any of his own. The scene made you smile a little.

“Anyway,” he continued as Woori began smashing his car against the tray again, “I worry about you and I just couldn’t let you go on thinking that you were alone and unloved. So, I came here because… I wanted you to know that… I love you.”

He shrugged his shoulders. His last statement made your chest tighten and tears threaten to form in your eyes. Even though you knew the love he was talking about was more than the kind of love you were looking for, it was true that it was something you didn’t even know you desperately needed to hear. Someone was on your side through all this.

“I’m not the only one, you know. The girls are all worried about you,’ he continued. “You should call them. They’re your friends too. None of us see Jae that much anymore anyway.”

The mention of his name instantly brought a bad taste to your mouth. Anger may have passed, but it had been replaced by disgust. The only saving grace was that it was coming out of the mouth of one of Jae’s best friends who had just declared his love for you…

“I also have something else,” Taehyung straightened his shoulders and spoke confidently. “I want to help you. Anything you need… cut the lawn, some fix it stuff around the house, babysitting… whatever. I’m at your service. Like I said, I have no expectations, I’m not trying to swindle you into anything, I just want to help.”

The statement instantly made you giddy. Taehyung was a good worker and the prospect of having help to complete all the projects and chores Jae “never got to” made you instantly feel as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

Jae. That name came up again.

“I really appreciate the offer, Taehyung, but I can’t accept that. Does Jae know about…” you began but were uncomfortable finishing the sentence. What would Jae think if he knew Taehyung was in love with you? “What would Jae think about you around here all the time. I can’t come between you two like that.”

With a sigh, he responded. “You don’t need to worry about that. I don’t think Jae and I are friends anymore.”

“Did something happen between you?” you asked.

He shook his head no. “Nothing specific. I think the thing is he and I are really only friends today because we’ve been friends since we were kids. We are different people now. I don’t think nostalgia is enough anymore. So, don’t worry, you weren't what came between us.”

Even though you knew Jae didn’t deserve to have a friend as good as Taehyung, you still felt a sense of sadness for him at the loss. You wondered how the rest of the group felt about him. Perhaps Jae wasn’t doing that much better than you were; the thought was satisfying.

“I’m sorry anyway. Losing a friend is still tough,” you said softly. Taehyung shrugged his shoulders and the two of you sat in silence for a few moments.

“Anyway,” he broke first. “Like I said, I want to help. No expectations I’m just here if you need me.”

“Thank-you, Taehyung, I really appreciate it.”

“So, what are we doing today? Put me to work.”

You were a bit shocked. When he said he wanted to help you didn’t expect him to jump in so immediately. “Oh, no, no Taehyung, you don’t have to do anything. I’m fine really! I’ll call you if something comes up!”

“Would you really call though?” he raised his eyebrow.

You couldn’t lie. “Nooo…” you replied sheepishly.

“Well then, now is my only chance. If you’re not going to do it for yourself at least do it for me once. What were you planning on doing today?”

You paused for a bit as you considered whether or how you should shuffle him out of your house. But, despite the odd and somewhat uncomfortable declaration of love, the thought of having a work horse for the day became all to attractive and in a weak moment you answered.

“Well… I was thinking about weeding the gardens…”

“Done,” he interrupted you before you could recant.

“You really don’t need to do this. It’s a lot of work!”

“Don’t worry about it. I like to keep busy.”

“Well, Woori is going to sleep soon so at least let me help you,” you bargained.

“Nope. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it and you worry about yourselves. Why don’t you take a nap too, I’m sure you haven’t gotten much sleep lately?”

You almost scoffed at the idea. “A nap? I don’t know that life,” you quipped. Taehyung’s face pulled in amusement.

“I’ll show you a whole new world, Y/N, where adults take naps sometimes because they need one.” You too smiled at his banter. He stood up and headed towards the door to get to work. Once again, the guilt of having an acquaintance doing free manual labour for you washed over.

“Taehyung…” you called after him. He turned around to face you. “Are you sure about this?”

“Positive,” he smiled. “Don’t worry. I want to be here. No expectations.”

“At least let me make you dinner? The least I could do is feed you… Don’t say no,” you finished sternly when you saw him open his mouth to protest. He shut his mouth and smiled.

“Sure,” he said before he exited and headed off towards the backyard shed.

The smash of Woori’s car hitting the floor knocked you out of your stupor.

Did that really just happen? You asked yourself. Did Kim Taehyung, one of Jae’s best friends really confess his love for you and is now kneeling in your flower bed?

It was true. You peered out the back window to confirm it. There he was bent over the patch of grassy dirt that currently resembled the unmanicured side of the highway rather than a garden. A small pile of waste had already begun to pile up at his side.

Woori began to fuss. Like clockwork he was ready for his meal and a big afternoon nap, so you tried to put any thoughts of what was happening outside away until he was taken care of and fast asleep. For the first time in a while you felt a sense of relief.

Forty minutes later, Woori was fast asleep. You had walked out to bring Taehyung some lawn waste disposal bags and some water. You were preparing to help him out but he shuffled you away and back into the house insisting you couldn’t bribe him with water. Back in the house, however, you couldn’t sit still. Something about having Taehyung’s energy around the property had made you restless, and you felt a motivation you hadn’t felt in a while to do something. You started out with the overdue laundry, and while the wash machine did its job, you moved onto wiping down the kitchen surfaces and sweeping the floors.

Normally you would have thrown the washed clothes in the dryer, but today, in the spirit of accomplishing more, you decided to hang out a load on the clothesline as well. Taehyung waved to you from the distance and you waved back. It was nice. Just the way you had always imagined yourself and Jae to be like on a sunny chore filled Saturday. You pushed the thought aside as you headed back into the house. Today you didn’t need to waste time thinking about him. Today you were feeling motivated. Today you thought was the day you’d be able to get everything done you had been pushing off. You could wake up tomorrow as if you had pressed a reset button. The thought alone was a huge weight off your shoulders.

A while later, exhausted, you decided to take a shower before Woori woke up. For, yet another, first time in a while, you actually enjoyed showering. There was no stress that Woori would need you or that it had to be over quickly so you could try to tackle another task you’d never get to anyway. You took your time and even used the near expired luxury shower items that used to be apart of your beauty routine.

Out of the shower, you felt relax and your body was a little sore from all the things you accomplished so far that morning, but the pain was satisfying; it was the ache of achievement. You decided to lay down for just a minute before you powered on through the afternoon.

You opened your eyes to the sound of Woori’s car hitting the floor. You snapped up in bed upset at yourself for leaving it in his crib. That’s when you noticed the room had darkened slightly. You must’ve fallen asleep. You were sure you had because you hadn’t felt this rejuvenated in months. You jumped out of bed and pulled your robe tight around you as you headed off in the direction of Woori’s room.

When you entered the hall, you heard his little laugh, but it wasn’t coming from the direction of the nursery. You followed the sound and when you entered the kitchen you found Woori sitting happily in his highchair and Taehyung seated in front of him playing.

“Hey! Sorry if we scared you!” he said noticing the astonishment on your face. “I came in an he was crying so when you didn’t wake up, I brought him out here. I figured you probably needed the sleep.”

“Shoot!” you exclaimed. “I didn’t even mean to fall asleep, so I didn’t bring the monitor with me!” you felt complete embarrassment. Taehyung must be thinking you’re a terrible mother. How could you not wake up when your child was crying? “When did he wake up?”

“Maybe ten minutes ago?”

“What time is it?”

“Quarter after five.”

“Oh my god, I slept that long!” your voice raised an octave.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t be taking naps, there is so much to do around here; I’ll never catch up; I can’t…” your pitch raised again as the anxiety that greeted you each day had come back for a visit. Woori let out a little whimper and his face contorted as he sensed something was wrong.

You began listing off everything you had wanted to accomplish that afternoon. You moved frantically around the kitchen, not sure of which direction you needed to be heading in and soon enough your eyes began to sting.

Taehyung stood up and clasped his hands around your shoulders. “Hey, hey,” he said soothingly. “It’s ok. A lot got done today, there’s no need to beat yourself up.”

You looked up to the ceiling and tried to blink away the tears. “I’m terrible at this, Taehyung,” you sobbed. “I don’t know what I’m doing, I can’t keep up. They’re going to take my son away.” The flood gates opened; another first. You hadn’t ever let anyone see how terrified you were by your new situation, but somehow here in front of someone you hardly knew, it all came falling out.

“Hey, no one is going to take your son away. You are doing a wonderful job. Look,” he encouraged you to look at Woori. “He’s happy, he’s healthy, he’s loved. You are doing a great job.”

“I’m just so overwhelmed,” you covered your face with your hands. “I never expected to be doing this all alone.”

“Look at me,” he pulled at your hands. “You’re not alone anymore. I’m here to help, remember? Anything you need. No expectations.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” you sniffed.

“You didn’t ask, I offered. I want to. Please let me.” He didn’t look at you as if you were crazy, nor that he pitied you. He looked at you with empathy and it felt genuine. It felt safe and warm. What you really wanted to do at that moment was nestle into his chest and ask him to hug you; not in a romantic way - in a way that you needed to feel a friend, or a family member show you affection. You didn’t though. His declaration of love still hung in the back of your thoughts and even though he said he had “no expectations” you didn’t want to flirt with them. To your own surprise though, you nodded your head yes. Yes, he offered to help you, and yes, you were going to take him up on that offer.

“Good,” he smiled. “Woori and I are good out here for a bit. How about I start making dinner?”

“I said I’d cook.”

“I can do it,” he gave you a quick look up and down. “Go ahead and do whatever else you need to do.”

You weren’t sure what he was referring to, until you followed where his eyes had darted and realized that you were still in your bathrobe. Even though nothing had accidentally been exposed, you self-consciously tugged the neckline a little to be sure. That’s when…

“Oh, shit!” you made Taehyung jump a little. “I have laundry on the line!”

“Do you want me to go get it?”

“No,” you replied. “Nooo,” you replied again when you remembered you had your granny panties and nursing bras hanging out there.

Taehyung chuckled as you did. “I figured. Laundry is a private business. Now get out of here. We’re fine.”

A short time later, the three of you were seated around the kitchen table eating dinner. You were impressed Taehyung had managed to actually pull something that resembled a meal out of your cupboards.

I really need to go grocery shopping, you thought to yourself, but the instant you did you felt the anxiety swell at the prospect of braving crowds alone with an infant.

“Huh?” you asked. Taehyung had said something that knocked you out of your thoughts.

“I asked if you wanted to go for a walk,” he said again.

“Oh? Where are we going?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “No where in particular. Just around the neighbourhood. I like to walk after eating, it makes me feel better.”

“I don’t know. Woori usually gets a little fussy around this time.”

“We won’t go far then. Let’s do it. We could all probably use the fresh air.”

You considered saying “no” but after everything he had done for you today, and since you didn’t end up the chef of the night as promised, the least you could do was entertain a walk around the block.

Taehyung had been right. You did need the fresh air. The mucky part of spring was ending and the world was beginning to warm up and turn green again. Woori was perfect the whole time. He cooed and awed at the big, bright world around him; in fact it made you feel a little guilty that you kept him and yourself so cooped up all the time. He needed to be stimulated and you needed to start engaging with the world again. Having Taehyung around was nice too. You had someone to speak to and not just about how you were doing, but about the small things that you didn’t realize you missed talking about.

“I think I should do this every night. This is nice,” you thought out loud. Taehyung smiled.

“Anytime you want a walking buddy just give me a call.” A small silence fell upon you both. Not an uncomfortable one. But out of your fit before dinner, when in a weak moment you agreed to let him help you, you were unsure once again if you were comfortable doing that. Taehyung picked up on the mood shift. “Sooo… you have a lot of free space now that the weeds are gone. Are you planning on planting anything new?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it. I always envied people who had beautiful gardens, but I don’t know if I could keep up with one.”

“Well, we can find some plants that don’t need a lot of maintenance. How about I’ll pick you up tomorrow and we can go check out the big greenhouse? We can take a look, maybe pick some stuff up and we can plant them when we get back.”

The thought was lovely, but once again the idea of braving a Sunday crowd made you panic.

“Don’t ask me again if I’m sure. I’m sure,” Taehyung jumped in anticipating you’d try to get out of your new agreement.

“It’s not that, I’m just worried about taking Woori out. If he has a fussy day – I just don’t know if I can concentrate on him and shopping. I’m still haunted by the first time I took him to get groceries.”

“I’m going to be with you the whole time. Between the two of us we’ll manage. If he gets too much then one of us can take him outside or we can just leave and try again another day. No big deal.”

No big deal. How could three small words near relieve you of all your trepidation. He was right. No big deal. And he would be there with you. It wouldn’t be like before with a baby developing a fever while you try to muscle your way through a long line at the cash. You would have help if you needed it.

“Yeah, OK. Let’s do it,” you finally responded.

“Yeah?” he sounded almost surprised.

“Yes… if you’re sure you want to waste your Sunday, of course.”

“What do I have to do to get you to stop that?” he laughed. You laughed too. It may be unconventional, but whatever was happening between the two of you now you were realizing might not be such a bad thing. Friends help friends when they need them; and the one thing you really needed right now was a friend.

[yourfaceislikeabluemoon]

Monsta X Reaction - Crush Confessions

Anonymous asked: Reaction? to how mx acts when they find out you like a member and they try to get you to confess cause they know the member likes you also.

Words: 410-530 each

Warning: Just a few cuss words but it’s really just fluff!

A/N: Oof, idk how great this is but I tried. My brain has not been working enough to write lately so I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to post something new. I hope this has been worth the wait. Probably not, I’m sorry! Anywho, here you go!

Shownu

This cutie would be so shy and giggly about it. He really wouldn’t have any idea how to get the point across without actually just coming out and saying it. But he would find it adorable and would want the both of you to be as happy as possible.

~

“Oh, so you like Jooheon.” Hyunwoo giggled quietly. “Well, um, that’s really...good. Yeah, it’s good. Because...um...”

“Why are you acting so weird? Are you uncomfortable now that I...?” You trailed off your sentence.

He quickly shook his head, “No, it’s not that at all! I just want you to be happy and so I...think you...I think you should tell him.”

You rolled your eyes, “And what makes you think that would be a good idea? I’m not really into the idea of being rejected.” Hyunwoo giggled again and you noticed his cheeks start to redden slightly. “Hey,” you shouted, “Are you laughing at the thought of me getting rejected? You ass, some friend you are!”

He waved his hands dramatically, “No, no! You won’t get rejected. I promise. You have to tell him. Please?”

You left his request hanging in silence for a while. “I can tell you’re keeping something from me, you know.”

He started to panic slightly and you could see his resolve slowly drain away, “Pfft, what makes you think that? I’m not. I don’t have. I...um…” You smiled and shook your head, amused at his inability to keep a secret without being completely obvious.

“Alright,” you sighed and Hyunwoo couldn’t help but grin widely. “Hey,” you pointed at Hyunwoo, causing the dorky smile to fall from his face just as fast as it appeared. “I didn’t mean I was gonna tell him. I mean I don’t know what you’re trying to keep from me, but I won’t bother you about it.” He knitted his brows together in confusion. You laughed lightly, “It’s just I can tell that if I say anything else, you’re gonna bust and spill everything. And I’m guessing it’s pretty important.”

He nodded slowly, “Yeah, but can you just talk to him about it?” You could tell he was choosing his words carefully.

Sighing as multiple thoughts ran through your head, you considered actually telling Jooheon. “Do you really think I should?”

Hyunwoo smiled warmly, eyes forming crescent moons and the cute pink tinge returning to his plump cheeks. You couldn’t imagine the secret he was so desperately trying to hold in. “Yes, I really think so.”

You chuckled, “Fine. I trust you, no matter how awful you are at not showing you have a secret. I know you’re trying your best. But I guess I should tell Jooheon now before you spill to him.” A brief look of hurt flashed over his features, but his expression quickly reverted back to eager happiness. You laughed again, patting his shoulder and pushing yourself off the couch to go find Jooheon.

Wonho

Poor thing would try his absolute best to be serious and he’d probably have some decently wise things to say. But, for the most part, he’d just end up laughing about it. Because why are you telling him and not the guy you’re crushing on? He’d listen but he’d end up telling you to stop wasting time and go tell the guy.

~

“I’m sorry. That probably made no sense at all.” You glanced nervously at Hoseok’s stern expression, waiting for some type of response to you suddenly unloading all your feelings on him at once.

He pursed his lips, “Hyungwon. Interesting.” You looked at him questioningly but stayed silent. “It made sense so don’t worry about that. It’s just…” His face contorted slightly and you started to get worried.

“You’re making that face again,” you stared at him, disappointed that he was clearly trying to hold in a laugh.

“What face?” The corner of his mouth twitched and he raised an eyebrow.

You sighed heavily, “The one you make when you’re trying not to laugh. That face.”

Hoseok’s lips quivered in an effort to hold back his chuckle but he failed and ended up basically laughing in your face, “OK, I’m sorry. It’s just, why are you telling me this?”

Knitting your brows together in embarrassment, your gaze fell to the floor, “I needed to tell someone! I thought maybe you’d understand. Guess I was wrong.”

“Hey, look at me,” he sighed and touched your arm, urging you to make eye contact again. “I do understand. I know what it feels like to be really interested in someone but afraid to admit it.”

Growing more annoyed, you pulled away from his reach, “Then what’s so funny? Is it because I have feelings for one of the members? Because you really can’t help who you fall for you know!”

“I know that. That’s not…” Hoseok sighed again in frustration, “I just find it funny that your telling me and not actually talking to Hyungwon about it. I mean you worked up the courage to tell me. You should’ve just used that courage to tell him!”

You slouched in aversion, “Dammit, why do you have to be right, right now?”

He grinned, “It’s just logic. Don’t overthink it. Just open your mouth and say whatever you feel like saying. Get everything off your chest even if he looks angry, because that’s just his face,” he paused, chuckling softly and glancing off to the side. You could tell he was thinking about something. “He won’t actually be angry, though,” Hoseok held up his hands, making eye contact again. “Trust me. In fact, I think he’ll be very excited to hear what you have to say. On the inside, of course.” He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled smugly.

“Alright, it’s now or never.” You nodded as if that would somehow motivate you to search out Hyungwon and spill all your feelings to him.

Hoseok chuckled again, “You’ll be fine.” He reached over to shove you slightly, “Go on.”

Minhyuk

This hopeless romantic would do everything in his power to make the situation as lovey dovey as possible. He’s the one off to the side giggling and squealing “Now kiss!” He would try to play matchmaker and get the two of you in some goofy situation where you just had to admit your feelings for each other. Setting you two up would be his absolute dream.

~

“I don’t want you to react weird.” You fiddled with a loose string on the pillow in your lap.

Minhyuk cocked his head, “React weird to what? I don’t react weird to things. Do I?”

You shot him a pointed look before returning your gaze to the fabric in front of you. “I’ve been trying to convince myself that it’s just a crush and not anything more.”

“You’re being cryptic.” He squinted in suspicion. “But,” Minhyuk squealed and wriggled in his seat, “A crush? On who? Tell me everything!”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, “You’re already acting weird and I’ve barely said anything!”

“Am not!” He protested, “Tell me!”

Throwing your hands up in frustration, you gave in, “Fine! It’s Kihyun. I have feelings for Kihyun. Happy?”

Minhyuk’s eyes widened, “I knew it!”

“What?” You squirmed nervously, “Did I make it that obvious?”

He grinned and rubbed his hands together maniacally, “Probably not to everyone else, and definitely not to Kihyun, but I always see these things.”

“OK, you’re acting weird like I said you would, but it’s not the weird I expected.” You stared at him, worried for more than one reason. “I thought you’d be freaked out that I like one of your group mates.”

He shook his head, still smiling, “Not at all! I’ve seen it for a while anyway. Honestly, I couldn’t be surprised if I tried. Now’s the fun part!”

You slouched in disappointment, immediately regretting telling Minhyuk of all people. “What terrible idea could you possibly have?”

He giggled and gestured vaguely, “I’m obligated to set this up. It’s my job as matchmaker.” You sighed loudly, trying to express your annoyance and disapproval without using words. “It’ll be great, don’t worry!”

“Oh, I’m worried!” You side-eyed him, “Don’t do anything stupid. This really isn’t something I want to admit to his face anyway. At least not right now.” You could almost see the gears turning in Minhyuk’s head as he formulated his plan.

He jolted suddenly, “Oh my god, I need to go to the store.” Minhyuk started to list off the things he needed for his plan, “I gotta pick up some wine and probably some rose petals. Maybe a nice table cloth. And-”

“Minnie, no!” You cut him off, panicked that he was going to make a big deal out of this when you felt that it would all end up horribly. “Please don’t make this a thing.”

He grinned, “Too late!”

Kihyun

Staying silent most of the time, it would probably seem like he either didn’t care or wasn’t listening. But really, he’d just be taking everything in and trying to formulate the best words for the situation. He’d be very caring and reassuring but also try to keep your spirits up and encourage you in the best way he knows how.

~

“Are you even listening to anything I’m telling you?” Kihyun’s expression had been completely blank and he stayed silent the entire time you explained your feelings for Hoseok, making you wonder if he was actually paying attention.

His features softened into a gentle smile, “Of course I am.”

You tilted your head, “Then why do you look like your brain is somewhere else?”

Kihyun chuckled, shaking his head slightly and folding his hands across his lap. “I was concentrating on what you were saying. And I didn’t say anything because I wanted you to get everything off your chest first before I made any comments.” He studied your face intently. Your cheeks warmed under his gaze and you broke eye contact to stare at the floor, embarrassed that you had just assumed he didn’t care. “Like I told you before, anytime you need to talk about anything, I’m here and I will listen to everything you have to say. I was just keeping the promise I made to you. I’m sorry if-”

“No!” You cut him off, “Please don’t apologize. You don’t have anything to apologize for. I was the one that just assumed. I’m sorry.”

He smiled again, leaning back in his seat. “It’s OK. My face just does that, looking totally blank, I don’t know.”

You laughed, recalling many of the times Kihyun looked far off, “It does that a lot!”

He let a puff of air out his nose, “I know. Did you say everything you needed to?” You nodded and he rubbed his chin, still in and out of his thoughts. “You really don’t have to tell Wonho everything right now. But it would be easier to say things now than to let the feelings eat away at you for too long. It’ll be harder the stronger your feelings are,” he paused and tilted his head. “You know you don’t have to be afraid of this, right?” You knit your brows together, questioning him without words. Kihyun smiled slightly, “This is all perfectly normal. You two are pretty close. Feelings are usually bound to form, no matter the person. Friends first, lovers second--I’ve always felt things work out better that way.”

A blush crept onto your cheeks at the word ‘lovers’, “Kihyun! Don’t say stuff like that!”

His eyes sparkled in that unique way that always gave his teasing nature away, “Say what?” You swatted at him, silently hoping he wouldn’t stray off topic causing you to leave because of embarrassment. Kihyun shook his head, “This is a sit down kind of thing. It’s a situation where you both need to talk out all your thoughts and feelings about your relationship, no matter what they are.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, voice barely above a whisper.

Kihyun nodded and rose to his feet, “Like I said, it’s up to you when you tell him.” He winked, smiling brightly before heading off and leaving you with your thoughts.

Hyungwon

He’d be both serious and teasing about the situation. He would probably get irritated at your hesitation and would try to rush you into admitting your feelings. But he’d do it out of love, obviously. Just in his own weird, slightly uncomfortable and awkward way.

~

“Why is your home screen a photo of Changkyun?” Hyungwon’s voice startled you out of your trance your phone screen had put you in. You whipped around to look at him, quickly locking your phone and slipping it under your leg. He had his arms crossed over his chest and a very smug look on his face, standing behind the couch your were sitting on. “Hiding your phone doesn’t get rid of the fact that I already discovered your secret.” Your eyes widened at the thought that he knew more than just about the phone screen. “Are you ok?” Hyungwon noticed your fearful expression and came around to sit next to you.

“Sure, I’m fine. I-wait, you know my secret? Who told you?”

He squinted, lips parted slightly, “I just saw your phone two seconds ago. What do you mean who told me?” Countenance softening into realization, he smiled slyly, “Or do you have another secret I don’t know about?”

You avoided his gaze nervously, “Well, yeah, I guess I do.”

“And?” He leaned closer, prodding you for more information.

“I’m kinda, umm, I have...feelings for him. For Changkyun,” you mumbled slowly, unsure of his response.

“You can’t be serious.” Hyungwon looked at you pointedly but you noticed an unusual sparkle in his eye when you looked up at him.

You frowned, “Would you hate me if I was?”

“Of course not!” He huffed, “I just don’t understand how you fell for him. Changkyun’s kinda…you know what, I don’t even know. He’s just Changkyun I guess. But really, him out of all the guys? That’s a weird coincidence if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you,” you eyed him suspiciously, “and I don’t know what that means. But I’m sorry, I guess?”

Hyungwon sighed and shook his head, “No, don’t apologize. It’s a good thing. But it’s not really my place to tell you what I know.”

Looking at him out of the corner of your eye, you couldn’t help but to slowly become more and more confused. “Hyungwon, what are you talking about?”

He sighed more dramatically, “Look, it’s not my admission to make. You need to talk to Changkyun about this. He should be back any minute. You can tell him when he gets home.”

Your mouth fell open and you leapt to your feet in panic, “Like hell! Now is most certainly not the time to have this conversation! And I most certainly am not emotionally or mentally capable to admitting this to his face!”

“Admitting what to who’s face?” Changkyun’s voice came from the doorway.

You whipped around, fear painted all over your face, “How long have you been standing there?”

He chuckled, “Since ‘Like hell!’. What’s wrong?”

Standing motionless and trying to compose yourself enough to explain things, Hyungwon pushed himself off the couch and muttered in your ear, “You better actually tell him. You don’t wanna know what I’ll do if you don’t!” His voice was eerily singsongy and it made you almost as uncomfortable as his weird grin did.

“Asshole!” You called after him through gritted teeth as he rushed off and left you to fend for yourself.

Jooheon

He’d be so smiley and blush so much, you’d think it was him you had admitted having feelings for. But he’d hear you out and probably get emotional right along with you. And he’d help you think up a plan of admission instead of telling you to just jump in head first. He would be supportive but still giggle about the cute factor.

~

Jooheon was hiding his face behind his hand. His eyes were peeking over his fingers, sparkling with laughter. “Why are you blushing so much? I said I was interested in Minhyuk, not-” you trailed off, uncertain if it would upset him to admit that it wasn’t him you had feelings for since you knew he’d always had a bit of a crush on you himself.

“No, I know that.” He spoke between giggles, “That doesn’t bother me. It’s just cute because, well, I don’t know, it’s cute!”

His smile being quite contagious, you couldn’t help but to laugh a little with him, “Why is it so cute to you? It’s a normal thing.”

Jooheon shrugged, deep dimples framing his grin, “Lots of normal things are cute. This just happens to be one of them.” You rolled your eyes playfully as he shifted in his seat and hugged the pillow in his lap tighter to his chest, setting his chin on it and looking at you intently. “So, do you have any idea how you’re actually gonna talk to him about this?”

Groaning and sighing deeply, you dragged your hands down your face dramatically. “No clue.”

He nodded slightly, “He’s really romantic, so any way you tell him, he’s gonna love it.”

You smiled softly to yourself, dropping your head on the back of the couch, “I know.”

“Yeah, so I don’t think you have to make a big deal out of it. How elaborate it is won’t have an effect on his answer.” You raised an eyebrow at him, silently wondering if he already knew what Minhyuk’s answer would be. Deciding against prodding him for information, you just nodded in response. “If you just sit him down, like we are right now, it should be easy enough. He feels so comfortable with you and I know the same goes for you, so you don’t have to worry about it being awkward.” Jooheon smiled reassuringly, twinkle still present in his eyes.

You furrowed your brow, “But don’t you think it at least has to be a bit more than just a “normal” conversation?”

He broke eye contact and stared off into space for a few seconds, thinking. “I mean, you could play 20 questions and maneuver them in your favor to get out what you want to say without straight up saying ‘I’m in love with you’ or whatever. If you’re gonna play a game or something, ‘Truth or Dare’ seems too obvious. Mainly because Minhyuk has a tendency to always choose dare and so he’ll probably end up making a fool out of himself.”

You chuckled, imagining the many ridiculous things Minhyuk has done in the past, “You’re probably right. And it’s not a bad idea. It would probably work.”

Jooheon sat up straighter, “OK, I’ll get him to invite you over for drinks and a movie in the next couple days. That should give you a bit of time to work out the details. I’ll help you with whatever!”

You leaned over to punch his arm, “This is why you’re my best friend. And the brains of the friendship, too.” He just chuckled and shook his head.

Changkyun

He’d be very mellow about it. He would listen to everything you need to get off your chest. And he would probably think it’s really adorable but he definitely wouldn’t tell you that. As long as he didn’t actually spill the information he was supposed to keep secret, he’d be a good friend about the whole thing and push you in the most gentle way to tell your crush your feelings.

~

“Kyunnie, I’m worried. I don’t feel like I’m ready to actually tell him this face to face.” You bowed your head, avoiding eye contact, “Man, you don’t even know how much courage I had to muster up just to talk to you about this.”

He chuckled, “Honestly, you fell for the one out of all of us that would be the easiest to admit to.”

You knit your brows together in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“Well, for one, Shownu’s so calm about everything. He wouldn’t overreact and he’d listen to everything you had to say. He’d try to make you feel comfortable about it because if you weren’t, he’d be really awkward.” Changkyun paused to laugh, “He would stare at you blankly for a while though. Which would be really funny to see, you admitting your feelings and him just standing there emotionless, silently absorbing everything you said.”

You slouched into the couch and threw your head back against it, “Is that supposed to make me feel better? ‘Cause it’s not working.”

You could see him smile out of the corner of your eye, “No, seriously. You shouldn’t worry too much about it. He might clam up but nothing would go wrong or end badly.”

“How do you know?” You crossed your arms over your chest, bad thoughts and outcomes whirling through your head. “For all we know, he might hate me for the rest of my existence if I told him I have feelings for him.”

Changkyun shook his head, “Not ‘for all we know’. For all you know.”

You looked at him, slightly shocked but mainly annoyed, “Are you still trying to make me feel better? Because you’re really failing miserably right now!”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” he sighed, dragging his hand down his face. “Look, he’s gonna be really shy about it when you tell him. And he probably won’t say everything he should.” Changkyun trailed off like he was about to say something he shouldn’t.

You scoffed, “‘When you tell him’. You actually think I’m gonna tell someone else about this, especially him? You’re insane.”

He nodded, laughing softly, “I know I don’t always have the best ideas, but trust me on this. You need to talk with him. It will not end badly. No matter what you’re imagining. I promise.”

You stayed silent for a while, pondering the situation. “Fine, but if things do end badly like I think they will, I’m taking the opportunity to kick your ass.”

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

Addicted Michael Langdon (Rock Star AU) x Reader

Warnings: drug use, overdose, death, smut

A/N: I don't remember right off hand exactly which blog in this fandom started the rockstar Michael concept but decided to give this type of an idea a shot. Note that yes there is drug use and overdose involved resulting in death because of an action taken on reader. This could be triggering to some, might want tissues handy cause it is sad boy hours on this one folks. As always send feedback much love and thanks for reading my fics guys! Note the lyrics used are from Learning To Fly by Pink Floyd.

undefined

//Into the distance a ribbon of black

Stretched to the point of no turning back

A flight of fancy on a windswept field

Standing alone my senses reeled

A fatal attraction is holding me fast how

How can I escape this irresistible grasp?//

Y/N looked on in mute horror. Horror was something she had not felt before in her life. There he was, almost catatonic, a look of aloof disinterest on his otherwise flawless and beautiful face. In his left hand a small bottle was loosely clutched, open, contents scattered upon the ground below. His hair was dishevelled, his upper body unclothed, a trail of saliva dripping from his slightly-parted mouth onto his chest. His unblinking gaze stared at something beyond focus, something only he was seeing.

What what happened? She asked in a cautious whisper. She gently plucked the small bottle out of his hand, realising he had overdosed. Purposely overdosed. What could have happened to drive Michael to such reckless, illogical behaviour? What drove this normally calm and deliberate person to such an abrupt, impromptu act? What demanded such drastic and permanent release?

It was too late. She knew it was too late. Not knowing what to do for such circumstances normally, Y/N only looked on helplessly, slowly crouching down by his side. She tentatively reached out and touched his bare shoulder.

Cold  both her fingertips and his skin. The two of them were both abnormally cool-blooded, he had penetrating and yet distant blue eyes,  fair skin and fine features. And yet he was colder than was normal for the two of them.He gave her no response, didn’t register her presence.

Taking a firmer grip, she shook him gently, knowing he wouldn’t respond. He lost the balance from his precarious position, haphazardly propped against a fallen chair. His right arm, previously draped across a side of the chair, smacked the ground with a sickeningly final thud. She caught his head against her chest, his head lolling down and to the side as if he wanted to suck on her breast. He was heavier than she remembered. She couldn’t think of why this could be.

She cradled him, rocking back and forth slightly. A tightness grew in her stomach and throat, a cold shiver ran down her spine. Her breath was suddenly shaky and her mouth grew dry. A tear froze as it formed at the corner of her eye, falling and shattering upon impacting against the colder-still floor. “Michael… please please wake up,” she stated desperately.

She closed her mind thinking back to the first time they had met, both of them were junkies it seemed to be one of the few things that kept them together asides from the sex. They may have a toxic relationship but like a moth to a flame she was drawn to him and she kept coming back for more.

2 years ago...

‘I need it so badly, and I need to see him, be near him.’

I want to find another dealer, but I can't bring myself to look. I just keep coming back.

I love him. I don't know if he knows it, but I do. With all of my heart.

I took my first fix to impress him. I don't care that I’m an addict; it gives me an excuse to see him.

And I do see him. Almost every day.

I let myself fall into the delusion that he loved me too, at first. When we met, in a bar, he gave me some crack. I liked it, of course, and he told me where I could see him and get more.

At first he just scared me, but gradually I started to look forward to going to see him to see him, as well as to get my fix.

I was a virgin. One night I gave that to him, and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. But when I woke up the next morning, he handed me about three weeks worth and told me I’d earned it all. I slapped him, but he just laughed and said he’d see me soon.

I held off the stuff for about a week, and then I couldn't do it anymore. It was even better than it had been the first time around.

When I ran out I went back to him, same as I always had before, with my money in my backpack.

He smirked, and told me I didn't need to give him any money, looking my body over knowingly. I was so tempted to do it. “Are you brave Y/N?” He asked me not taking his eyes off of mine. I looked at him nervously “why do you ask?” My stomach was tied in knots an excited feeling rushed through my veins.

“You want some of this?" He held up the small baggie to my eyes, which contained a fairly sized black hunk of something. I didn't have to ask him to know what it was.He had the sexiest face when he was offering you drugs, a straight, poker face, with a little smirk that just screamed "Come on, you know you want to,". I chewed at my bottom lip contemplating it for a moment. "Come on, it's the greatest feeling ever. I'll shoot it for you and everything, I guarantee you won't be able to move for the next hour, I swear. It's the best, no lie." Michael urged me.

I hesitated slightly, my heart thundering against my ribs. Everything in my brain was screaming 'NO! You idiot! Remember health class?' "Awh hell, off to the races!" I said, laughing, and instantly feeling a rush of anxiety. Michael laughed, "Yeah, you want this," and then he pulled out a spoon from his pocket, breaking off a chunk of the black tar heroin and setting it in the spoon to melt it down. He was always so cocky, but it suited his personality.

My stomach was starting to feel funny from all the adrenaline pumping though my body as he patiently turned the black mass into a liquid; I hadn't felt this antsy since the last time we were tweaking out on shards. I couldn't believe I was about to do this; one hit and I could be addicted.

Before I knew it, Michael had taken a hold of my left wrist and was holding my arm out straight, tapping against the main vein in my elbow until it was raised and throbbing.

"You're gonna want to look away for this," he said, as he held up a small syringe he'd filled with the drug. "This is gonna be like nothing you've ever felt before."

I smiled, and said "Hell yes," before I looked up into his eyes. He met my gaze, his blue eyes distracting me from where the needle was going. I felt the pinch, and winced slightly.

“You're ok, you will be ok Y/N," he said, he smiled, still staring into my eyes. "Eyes right here."

I stared back, smiled, and felt the needle being withdrawn from my arm. I exhaled slowly, wondering when it was supposed to take effect--

The rush of euphoria you get from shooting up heroin is unlike anything else. You could be going through horrible withdrawals, but after you see that red cloud of blood erupt in the syringe, you’ll feel like you're on top of the world in seconds. You feel weightless, and warm, and safe.

“How you feeling Y/N?" Michael asked, getting down to my level to look me in the eye, his smirk setting my nerve endings on fire. ‘fuck why is it that his smirk damn near destroys me?’ I thought to myself. I tried to speak, but my mouth wasn't working with my brain...or, my brain wasn't working with my mouth. Actually, I don't think my brain was working at this point at all, it was all just too slow. Even my tongue felt heavy.

It seemed like a long time passed, I heard Michael opening up the small baggie once again, heard the lighter click to life, closed my eyes and felt my breathing, watching the colors dance past my eyes as I heard him hiss from the needle, heard the THUMP as he hit the floor.

A few moments had passed then I saw Michael get up from the floor, and plop down onto the end of the bed, smiling and looking down at me. I looked back up at him, and in my mind a vague feeling was starting to swim around, to spark to roaring life amidst the haze that I was feeling everywhere else.

“You feelin' good?" He asked, tilting his head and grinning at me in the way he always did after witnessing me getting fucked up in some way or another. A grin that said, 'Now that's what I'm talking about', before always asking the same question; You feeling good?

I tried to wrap my mind around how I was feeling, to grasp at how hot it was starting to feel between my legs, how when I arched my back upward I wanted something to be there, to be in the space between my legs, in the heat and the wet, to fill me up, make me moan.

And without really meaning to, I did moan. I let out a low, hungry growl, closing my eyes and allowing my head to fall backward.

Michael chuckled, a low, almost animalistic sound. “Y/N...you want to fuck don't you?" I didn't respond, merely laid there, eyes still closed, feeling my head fall to the side, my nose against my right bicep. It was so hot, I could hear myself panting, feel it in my breasts as they rose and fell with my breath.

"Yeeeeeaaaaahh, you wanna fuck," I heard Michael  say, his words long and drawn out. "You're so horny right now it's driving you out of your Goddamn mind, isn't it?"

I heard myself moan again, still unable to think my way out of the warm cloud that had settled over my body. All I knew was that I wanted a dick, a hard, long, thick dick, shoved into my pussy, and I wanted it now. I gave a small growl of frustration, arching my back upward again.

Michael takes hold of my wrist all of a sudden, forcing me to still. Then he lowers my arm, meeting my stare in the dimness of lamplight shining from a table. “You look like you have somethin’ you wanna say, Miss Y/N.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “Do I?” “Yeah. Do you?” “I – I.” I was unable to formulate a complete sentence. God he’s beautiful. I’m mesmerized. Enthralled. Captivated. Whatever this emotion of want is.

Long, blonde hair dusts him all over. Glazed in a sheen of sweat.“Oh…” I’m at a loss for words, so awestruck. He begins undressing himself,His hands are on his belt, undoing the buckle. His trousers sag some, slipping down his waist.I close the distance between us, pushing aside his trembling hands to use mine. I undo his belt then unfasten the button of his trousers, letting them fall around his ankles.

Michael looks at me he holds my face in his big, calloused hands. “You can’t be real.” “No?” “No. You have to just be some illusion I’ve thought of. You’ll disappear soon.” “I don’t think I’m leaving, Michael,” I confess, voice breathless. His touch is like fire, letting me feel that more than I desire.

I flush with heat, taking in the truth that he’s naked now. Naked. In front of me.“You wanna join, darlin’?” “J – Join?” He gently traces his fingertips across my arm I can't help but shiver “yeah you look cold  guess even angels need warmth, huh?” he narrowed his gaze on me, he stretches out an arm to grab my wrist. He pulls me into him, sitting up to hold me in his strong arms. Heat blooms all over my skin as he embraces me from behind, sensations I had thought I lost or maybe never realized I had.

He makes it seem like I have nothing to be afraid of. Nothing to do but relent, to surrender and release the tension I’ve been holding in. His breath warms my ear, tousling strands of hair. He moves closer, pinning me to the wall. I hold in all the breath I can as his scent overwhelms me, musk and oil and smoke. He has one arm over my head, bracing his position over me. His other hand rests near my abdomen, hovering over his shirt that I have on. His blue gaze doesn’t leave mine. “Can I touch you?” I blink, dark lashes fanning out tears. “I – I’ve never been touched like this.” “Never?” “No.” 'sure we had had sex before but this moment seemed different electrified. This was the first time he even really touched me at least like this… so soft, so sensual.

“You – You don’t have to.” I managed to stutter out awkwardly. “I can. You look like you want me to. You have for a while. It doesn’t have to be more than this, and I don’t mind doin’ it for you.” His touch is like fire, as before. That tingling that I hunger for. The licks of heat over my skin sets my nerve endings on fire. His rough fingers slither over my slit, forcing me to let out a muffled noise as I shudder. “Want me to stop?” “No. No. More… do more.”

He pushes closer, leaving no space amid us. His teeth sink into my throat, biting sensitive areas I didn’t know I wanted to be bitten. I arch my back, bending a little as he presses a knee between my thighs.He rubs, for a few minutes. Stroking. Caressing.He nibbles my neck, the muscle that runs down to my shoulder. His shirt falls off of me some, slipping off the shoulder his mouth is on. I rest my palms on his chest, nails scratching over his skin. He hisses then sucks beneath my ear, licking his tongue back and forth. “Oh, Michael,” I moan my breath becoming more rapid making me almost dizzy.

He parts me with his fingers, rubbing the warm slick that’s dripping out of me. “God, Y/N. You moan like an angel.” He pushes one thick digit into me, then another. Stretching me, he thrusts in and out at a slow pace. I fall into a haze of bliss, drowned in the blazing sensations that wash over me. I move my hips in time with his hand, finding a tempo with him. A blinding crescendo rises and rises. Hotter. Brighter. ”I’m so close, so close –”  Then the flat of his thumb circles over my clit and I scream, coming undone.

This was an all new heightened sensation, and throughout our relationship it seemed the more we experimented with different drugs the more the sexual connection we had seemed to get more and more intense. Hell we were just as addicted to the sex as much as the drugs. To be honest I think we tried just about everything, Crystal meth, shrooms, coke, mollies you name it then most likely we had tried it. But it seemed like nothing was enough, another fix needed to keep the euphoric rush going. Each time more and more it seemed like he needed, like a junkie he couldn't seem to get enough. But it seemed heroin was always his vice, his ultimate fix of choice.

Being on heroin is akin to being in a toxic relationship. You start off knowing you're playing with fire, but you tell yourself it’ll be casual and you have more will power than to let yourself fall into addiction. Unfortunately, the pull of heroin is stronger than you, and by the time you realize you’ve lost control, you already lost it a long time ago. This kind of end was not for the likes of him. In one long continuous movement she eased him to the ground, laying him on his back and lovingly straddled him. She had one hand pressed against his cold chest, the other gripping the handle of the blade. Her hand wavered a little as it hovered above his chest. She glanced away, eyes a little misted by tears that were unaccustomed to forming, and thus shy of coming out.

Die by the blade, she whispered barely audibly. He never was much of a fighter she was the warrior of unparalleled potential of the two of them and yet she believed, she knew, that he wouldn't want it any other way either.

With one efficient movement, she plunged the blade neatly into his heart. She opened her eyes with a start, sharply glancing down at him as she felt a tensing beneath her and the slightest of hitched gasps. His eyes, free of the madness, clear of the haze, looked back at her with such a whirlpool of emotions and questions she nearly choked on a gasp of her own. She felt a new horror. A new kind of chill. She couldn't find her voice, and wouldn't have known what to say anyway. She looked back into his eyes, silently pleading.

“Michael Langdon?”

Questioning turned to acceptant understanding, forgiveness, and finally to a slightly guilty apology. The corner of his lips twitched into the briefest of smiles, as if trying to reassure her that everything would be fine.

“L-love,you.”

His eyes glazed over again. This time he wouldn’t be waking up for her again. The crimson trickled over his skin and stained her sleeves and her skirts. Never had she made such a costly error of judgement.

Michael Langdon died of an overdose. A plaque in his memory was put up, reading, “There is no substitute” Unfortunately for music fans, as well as the family and friends of the victims, too many singers have died before their time either directly or indirectly because of drug use and abuse.

Michael Langdon

The raspy voiced rocker died at the age of 27,  from a heroin overdose. Born Michael Reese Langdon, but known as “Mick” to his friends and family, Joplin is famous for some of his hit singles such as “Tear Me To Pieces,”Come Undone With Me” “Cry,” “ Asphixiate, “Bring Me To My Knees,” and his personal  favorite, “Sex Goddess.” In 2017, Rolling Stone magazine ranked him #46 on their list of the 100 Greatest Artists of All Time.

[ombreecha]

The Uchiha’s Wife

FF.NET Fandom: Naruto Pairing: SasuSaku Rated: M Summary: She was an otherworldly being of healing. An absolute nymph of spring. He was an otherworldly being of destruction. An absolute god of war. In a world where war makes him death, and chaos she will be the life, and love his people will talk of for years to come. AU x Warring States Period.

C1-C2-C3

Chapter 3 The Kindness

The late summer heat was thick among them when her voice takes him off guard as she speaks across from him nibbling her food. Dinner was a quiet activity that she previously chose not to interrupt, “I hear the Uchiha love deeply.”

She says it in such a way that he does not know if she is truly expecting an answer to the underlying question. He realizes he should say something in return but he does not. He questions what reason he should give a response to such a random statement. Yes. He was proclaiming it a statement now—he would ignore the underlying question.

Sasuke was many things, and stubborn was one of them—he would not dare humor her with a response that he did not feel was worth his time. He would only lend his voice to what he felt was important, and she was not important.

The sound of her chopsticks settling on her bowl comes to his ears making him glance ever so slightly at her. He realizes she was looking his way as if still thinking he would formulate a sentence for her ears alone.

“Do you love deeply?” her patience had seemed to end as the underlying question comes into play.

The clash of viridian to ebony begins, and yet stubbornly he did not, again, humor her—he left her hanging on silence as he gave his thanks for the food and left her with her brows pinched in frustration at his disregard for her curiosity. His spring incarnation of a wife had been changing before him and yet it was only in these moments that he found himself truly seeing a difference in her actions. The fear, and disdain is faint but still present in those glowing viridian in moments like this.

Disdain and fear were changing and in their change the briefest of interest was present to see what they would evolve into. Sasuke could only give an agitated grunt as he looked down the hall at where he had left her with that interest probing his thoughts.

Did she not comprehend this was not a union of love? Compassion? Was she hoping with such comments to get one from him? To get a promise of love and affection?

Shaking his head he cleared himself from the irritation that threatened to come. The fear was there still and so he found himself questioning what he thought she had wanted for him. Fingers found their way to his long locks of ebony running through the strands.

This woman was a mystery and otherworldly being who seemed to be forever changing before him. She was an absolute paradox.

None of it matter. Whatever she sought to obtain she would never gain.

She would receive nothing.

He would hold the Senju believer at arms length. It was these behaviors and these questions that only served to confuse and annoy him beyond what he thought possible.

He will keep her where she sits in his world as the wife he had never wanted nor asked for. He is heading for the door now. Sasuke can only hope for peace among the training grounds. Training would relieve him from her probing, and antics. It would provide a space before having to see the glowing viridian that held determination, and sought him out as they had in the recent of days.

Word had been sent days in advance of her mother longing to see her. There was equal longing in her to see her mother after such time away. Fingers dance across the fabric of a cheongsam deep in rich red hue, and light gold patterns that the maid has rushed to her hands. The fabric is soft and silky under her fingertips and she feels an absolute pride behind this single dress. There is a feeling of completeness within this dress. It is the merge of her culture and her new family as the emblem of the Uchiha has been stitched with care onto the back.

The handmaid is gentle and assists her with dressing. They take care in her hair as the wave of excitement is pouring out of her being in anticipation. It seems they have begun to expect no surprise in her in moments like this. Smiles are gentle between the two gazing back and forth in the mirror in front of her.

It is only after she has finished with her ritual of gracing her deceased in-laws with proper prayers, and traditions she has finally learned that she is greeting her mother at the entry way.

There is silence between them as she brings her mother to gaze upon their garden from the engawa. The maids have assisted in placing zabuton for them before her mother's arrival and follow closely behind them with tea to serve.

She raises her hand delicately taking the kettle and cups from her handmaid, “Please give us alone time. I wish to speak to my mother privately.”

The maid does not question her giving a bow before leaving her mistress to serve, and entertain. The soft sigh her mother gives brings her back to serving tea.

There is an odd silence that hangs in the air. Her mother was a kind soul, but strict all the same. This was not the life she would have chosen for her, and Sakura knows this without the words ever hitting her ears.

A click of a tongue and moments later her mother's voice is as strong as she remembers, “That cruel man has treated you properly I hope?”

Sakura can only nod her head at her question as her lips work to cool the hot liquid she has poured into her own cup. The viridian gaze she shares due to the kindness of her mother has fallen on her at her nod, and she knows she is preparing herself.

“You should have fought this.” her mother's words are hardened.

“I would have been slaughter. You know the tales that come from Uchiha-sama.”

“Would you be discussing that husband of yours or Madara-sama?”

The hiss and clip that fell from her mother's lips finally make her gaze back with her own viridian gaze. Her brows have come together to show her distaste for the way her mother is speaking, “What would you have had me do? Have our entire family slaughtered for selfishness?”

“I expected my stubborn daughter to fight as she has always done.”

“You expected wrong.” her voice shakes at that moment and pushes her mother to continue her fit of frustration that is displayed only for her.

“I can only pray to the gods they have not brainwashed you. You believed in the Senju, and you will die with the inability to follow with that belief.”

“I am an Uchiha now, mama. You are by association an Uchiha.”

“I will never be an Uchiha. You will never truly be an Uchiha. What have they done to bring you to this belief that just because you married a hate driven man who fights for a man thirsting for power you are to follow them blindly? Have I not always taught you to think for yourself, Sakura?”

Venomous is the only way she could describe her mother's tone, and it only cause her milky complexion to turn red in hue at the lecture she is receiving. It makes her place her cup to the side as she steps into the garden feet bare to feel warmth of the earth.

“I have never changed my views even as I work hard to be a proper wife to him. Do not lower me so far, Mama!” her tone has raised and she cannot contain the frustration that has risen in her, “He is not a bad man. He is unbelievably kind, so, so, so unbelievably kind!”

“What have you become to spout such nonsense? He is a creature who feels nothing for those he has slaughtered in the name of war!”

Her head whips to those words, the urge to defend her husband strong in her heart, “You cannot—will not say that. You do not know him. You know nothing of him, and the Uchiha. You haven’t even tried, Mama! The kindness I speak of, and see is there. His efforts for his people make them adore him, and have such deep faith in him to bring about the world they think is right! The children in this village long to become useful to him, and seek his appro—”

“May god stop any child from following that man's steps.”

It is at that moment Sakura cannot believe the words that fall from her mother's mouth with absolute steel and hatred lacing each letter “To speak poorly of him is to speak poorly of me, mama.” her eyes have glassed over and the words that come are coated in a thick layer of hurt.

This has stopped her mother from spilling more words, and catch them in her throat. There is a moment where her mother's gaze drops from her to the cup her daughter has abandoned, “We miss you, Sakura.”

Fists curl at hearing the vulnerable words escape from her mother. This woman had been her rock growing up. This unbelievable woman before her was her role model. Hearing the vulnerable voice she utters vice grips Sakura’s heart tightly. This woman was her pillar of strength, the essence of kindness when it was needed most, and the voice of reason in fits of emotion. Yet, here was that same role model spitting venom, speaking with hurt, and flush with regret at not finding a way out for her daughter. It only brought about heartache and desire to become half the woman sitting before her.

The steps she takes are shaky as she comes to kneel before her mother. Fingers dance across her mother's lap gripping the fabric of the signature white cheongsam her mother wore for outings she deemed important, “Mama, I promise you, he has not been cruel to me.”

Those are the words that produce a reassuring squeeze as her mother's hand takes her own.

The rest of their visit is held with light pleasantries, and giggles fill the air between them. A sense of calm so unlike their argument has come around them. She is giving her mother farewells just as her husband returns home for the day. Sakura can only watch as her mother and her husband share a fleeting look between them that holds a mixture of indifference on his end, and disgust on her mother's.

He found himself confused days later when she was not there to greet him—she was nowhere within his, no their, home. He calls forth a maid who comes rushing to his side.

“Where is she?” his voice held a gruff lining

“I’m not sure, Uchiha-sama.” the maid played with her hands hoping to avoid his stare and wrath at not knowing where his wife had gone off too.

He merely cast her a glance as he makes his way through the house taking a moment to stop within their kitchen. The maid had followed him quickly, “You’re dismissed.” he spoke languidly.

The ebony haired male found himself perplexed. She had bewitched him he was certain. At some point he had never expected her to not be ready to greet him as he came home from meetings, battles, and training sessions.

His meeting had not been long. He was sure she knew when he would be back just as she had known he was leaving—what was he falling into? What difference did it make if his wife had been home. At what point had he grown accustomed to her being in the walls of his home?

It wasn’t but an hour later that she would return. He could hear the door and the greeting of one of the maids as she made her way into his home. He did not move from his spot having made his way to the garden standing among the flowers that held their bloom as his cherry tree did not.

Nightfall had taken place in his wait and the chilled air graced with the subtle fall season making it’s way into their land was settling in over his skin. Her feet had made the smallest of noises as she made her way to him. He dared not—refused—to look at her. Frustration with her swirling in the pit of his stomach. He could smell the medicinal odor that hung thickly on her even within this distance.

So she had gone to help at the clinic today.

“Uchiha-sama.”

His focus came back upon the lone cherry tree. He can hear her lips pressed in a line, and then when he thinks she has left and he has missed the soft thud of her feet against the wood he hears her again.

“Welcome home.”

There is the slightest warmth with her call, and it makes him look to her finally as if pulling him in to wrap him into the world of spring she seemed forever a part of.

His ebony trailed up her form. A deep rich green cheongsam her choice for the day. He did not understand her desire to hold onto parts of her family's culture when she had many to learn from his own. They found their way past the rose-colored strands up to those ever glowing viridian.

Regret—he regretted looking to them.

He cast his own away from her with brows pinched in outward annoyance.

Where was the disdain? At what point had she stopped giving them to him? At what point did she begin to give such warmth when welcoming him?

He felt the desire to berate her—scold her—give her real reason to show such disdain toward him as she should. It was in these moments he could not comprehend what she was doing and why. It was in these moments he felt the need to grab her and ask her why she had allowed her life to come down this path.

They spoke so formally, they gazed as if strangers, and he was sure she did not truly support him, and his clansmen in this war—she was probably always a Senju supporter as with that mother of her's—All this marriage was, was a sham of unfulfilled, and never given promises. It was a lie.

Could you truly call this. . . this union a marriage?

“Sakura.”

His voice had not been expected. He could hear it in the subtle shift she made at his voice. Fingers twitched slightly as he tried to swallow down this sudden growing irritation towards the nymph of spring.

“Yes?”

There was that subtle warmth that was completely her. It forced him to push the irritation further down his being, “You’re to call me by my first name.”

The pause between them was long, and loud. He had no idea why he had spilled the words from his mouth. It held no importance, and it held no rhyme or reason for being spoken. It did not truly matter what she called him. He had wanted to yell at her, scream at her, force her to explain what she had planned for this godforsaken life together.

“Sasuke-kun.”

He wondered if it tasted bitter in her mouth as he felt the need to control the shock that wished to decorate his features. He was not one to give anyone the upper hand—including his wife—when it came to his emotional spectrum. Those days had long since passed with his brothers betrayal.

“Mm. . .” she hummed as if pleased with herself, “Sasuke-kun.”

He dared not respond at her second vocalization of his name. His feet carry him passed her and into the bedroom. His fingers began shutting the bedroom door behind him and leaving her behind as he was prone to do so, but he felt his mouth form words he was sure were becoming a reflex with her.

“You really are annoying.”

There is the oddest satisfaction she feels when he grants her permission to use his first name, and the thrill it has provided lasts for weeks after it has occurred.

He is still absent in his day to day comings and goings and yet she hopes the closeness he has provided in that moment will remain even with the increased pace of missions that carries him from home.

Sasuke Uchiha still did not write in his time away from her, and their home. There was never a moment she realizes that she would have thought he would. It is only through the word of others such as Hikaku’s wife that she has received word on when they will return that makes it so she can welcome him home properly each time.

As her fingers work their magic and she assists at the clinic today she can only smile at the children and the kindhearted civilians that come and go. The reputation she has built and the trust she has gained only continues to grow and it gives her a sense of pride that this is something she has built and fixed since her husband's public display of punishment to those who would dare to not treat her properly.

It was finally entirely her own. The closeness she feels in these moments warm her and continue to push her to do her best. Giving was something that came naturally to her, and it was something she wished to provide forever.

Sakura can only glance briefly at her fingers as she begins a routine check up on the shinobi in front of her. His voice is kind as he chats with her asking how she has been. Through him she learns that he will be leaving for a new mission within the days to come.

These small fingers are what the shinobi in her village have come to rely on. They could bring the floor out from under him, and yet that was not her purpose in this war. War was cruel, and war was chaos. There was enough cruelty and chaos on both sides and she would not lend her hands to create more of the same. She was given the opportunity to provide something far less in supply.

The hours at the clinic are long and she stretches as she prepares to leave giving her farewells to the lingering medics who are there for the night shift.

The air at night is chilly and the wind brings forth a sense of calm over her. The village has quieted for the night but is not dead, and the nods, and bows that are given as she walks brings forth a glowing smile. This was when she truly felt her most successful. It made her wonder of how success felt to her husband.

The moon that shines her path with help from the ever present lanterns makes her stop in her walk home taking in the sight of the sky above her. Thoughts of him had begun to create a sense of longing.

So long as she lived under the same sky as him she silently, but strongly would continue to wait for him.

She does so gladly.

Missions had come and gone in the last few weeks. Unsure of how to take the sudden slow pace that had come to his days he could only become restless. He had barely been home and when he had it was only to be mended, rested, and then back out to his next mission.

She did not give complaints for his absences but then when was he really here with her? He had decided long ago that even when in the same room the two of them couldn’t be further from each other.  He felt re-grounded in his separation from her. He no longer felt irritated, and found himself frustrated by the woman. Soft feet stopped beside him a tray coming down with her. The smell of tea finds its way into his nose as she prepares him a cup. He followed her fingers as they danced among the kettles handle.

“Your hair has gotten long Sasuke-kun.” you could hear the smile within her idle chatter.

He graced her with no response as usual as he watched her bring his cup to her lips giving soft blows to cool the liquid for him. Her delicate fingers cradled the cup in such a soft manner. The action is entirely her.

She wasn’t wrong. His hair gotten longer than he had intended. It no longer could maintain it’s usual curled back, and bangs had finally come past his chin. It lingered upon his shoulders, and held a similarity close to that of his traitor of a sibling. Thought of such things make him finally give way to a soft exhale.

Those doe-eyes of hers widened for a moment at the sudden expression as she hands him his cup. She found her way to her feet as she left him briefly to sip. He noted the sounds coming from their bedroom before the soft thuds made their way back to him. He could hear her as she pressed the kimono evenly under her legs behind him. Her fingers pressed upon his shoulder and he fights the urge to rip her fingers from him.

The stiffness in his shoulders alerted her and yet did not hold her back from creating this closeness. He found her hand making it’s way from his shoulder through his hair. It sent an odd sensation through his body and the hair on his arms stand at such a feeling.

He spoke no words as she followed in his silence. There was understanding of what she intended to do, and he decided there was no reason to stop her from cutting the dark strands. He kept his focus out among the withering garden as her delicate fingers danced across his scalp. The sound of the razor dragging through his hair dances within his ears. He questioned just briefly if she even knew was she was doing.

Sasuke dismissed the question only to have another take it’s place. She had fallen into rhythm with him almost as if it was second nature. He wants to know at what point she had managed to do that.

At that moment maybe they weren’t so far apart he muses within his mind.

A meeting only weeks later has her pulling her hood forward as she follows him out the door. Their journey is not far and yet the weather has made them take shelter from it’s chill earlier than expected. She is expected as simply a sight, and no other part.

The trip is not one of words with only slight breaths. Those that follow behind them march quietly. None making move to make conversation among themselves in front of her presence.

He muses at the solitude she commands unknowingly.

The smirk that had graced his features seems to elicit a response from her as she pauses only in the slightest before regaining her pace. The viridian eyes leave his form shortly, and he finds himself wanting to smirk again as he’s sure she is questioning if she had even seen the first one.

He does not though. They are heading into a meeting with Madara and that poses the seriousness of what is truly going on around them all.

The cold no longer feels fresh upon their faces as hours fall into place, greetings are held, and they sit among Madara’s table. Loss and, specific achievements the topics. He establishes the latest of updates among those he has invited, and those his higher ups have placed their trust in.

His focus does not leave the war, or those they have lost. He finds the hair on the back of his neck stand at the mention of his brother being involved in one of the battles they had lost. His fists curl under the low table on his knees in frustration, and yet a soft hand finds it’s way onto his. She seems to feel the vexation and trouble radiating off him without even glancing a look.

He wants to throw her hand off his but that would cause a scene within this public place. That is what forces him to let her leave it there, and dig her fingers into the closed fist enveloping what she can with such petite hands.

As the meeting ends they are standing conversing of more trivial topics before preparing for travel home. They know it will be long before the next meeting of this magnitude. The faces sitting in this room are here now, and yet they may not be there for the next.

That was the reality of war.

“He is unbelievably kind.”

Sasuke’s head whips to her form hearing her voice. Ebony eyes note the individual she is conversing with lowly. He feels the need to separate them, and make her apologize. Tajima was not one you simply conversed with. Direct bloodline of his or not, she should not speak so casually.

Taking solid steps towards them they turn their attention to him.

“Ah, Sasuke-san, your wife is quite charming.” his voice was even as his eyes flickered onto the young Uchiha.

“Ah, she is, Tajima-sama.”

“She claims you’re kind. It seems she knows of a you we do not.” he seemed almost amused at this comment. His eyes grace upon his wife before flickering back to him.

“I’m honored by her praise.” he wants the conversation to end.

He’s desperate to get her away from the man, and reprimand her for her ridiculous comments.

What part of him had been kind to her?

It’s not hard to remove themselves with the excuse of travel making sure to apologize for the shortness, and disruption of his wife. Tajima had waved him off. It made his teeth grind in irritation. The quiet that comes forth on the travels back are no longer brought by her presence but instead the tense feeling that radiates from his being.

They speak no words until he slides their bedroom door shut. She is taking her cloak off and before she even has time to start to fold it his voice finds its way out of his throat, “Never speak to him again.”

The otherworldly creature that is his wife has given her full attention at the sudden sound of his voice. There’s a look of shock decorating her features as she gazes at him. Her viridian wide with unease at his tone with her.

“Know your place.” he is seething with vexation at her in this one statement.

She has taken a step back at the venom that has dripped from his mouth, “Ah—Sasuke-kun”

Her attempts to calm him are thrown carelessly from her as he is now marching towards her gripping her wrist in his, “Tajima-sama is Madara-sama’s father. You are in no position to speak to either.”

He can see her milky complexion warming into a red tint. He has angered her it seems.

Oh? So the spring nymph can feel anger?

He cared little for the development. He can hear her swallow thickly as if trying to swallow down the words begging to drop from her own. Pushing her wrist back to her makes her take several steps back as he turns from her and out the room. Cooling his head was necessary or he’d lose himself in his vexation.

Sasuke does not come back for hours. She does not greet him upon his return with the hour so late, and the light to his bedroom is off. He finds himself sleeping with his back to her. Her breath not the least bit even as he had expected them to be. The shuffle of the comforter above them comes with her movements. She is looking at him, and he can feel it. He feels a part of her reach out into the short distance between them as if to touch his back. He does not move.

There is a pause in her movement and a retraction of her hand.

Where is this kindness she had proclaimed he held to Tajima?

The anger she feels towards him clings to her. That behavior of his. That tone he had carried with her. Never had he spoken to her in such a way. The frustration, vexation, and venom she felt sitting in her stomach had no release.

Sakura felt no guilt in what she had done.

What was it exactly her husband had expected from her? When spoken to she spoke. When asked for things she provided, and yet he had told her to know her place.

The spring wife fully knew her place. The agitation this had stirred in her had pulled her from her routine. There would be no apology when he returned. He would receive the same treatment he had received when he had walked out from their home for his latest mission.

In these times she was truly alone. She had nowhere to turn, and nowhere to run. To give way that they had held a fight was not something she could speak of even to Hikaku’s wife.

Replaying the meeting and conversations that had taken place circulated her memory often. It was as if she was stuck in a forever loop of that time analyzing and searching for what more she could have done.

No matter what she had come to the same conclusions. It’s only in front of her deceased in-laws that she clears her mind to give proper prayer, and light the incense in her husband's absence, and then all at once she is fluttering her eyes open.

Sakura calls for her handmaid as she exits and the maid comes quickly to come to her side. The pace is set and they are walking down the halls and into her bedroom. Turning to the maid has caused her to take a step back not prepared for her mistress to turn to her so abruptly.

“Who is Itachi Uchiha?” she is filled with determination.

Her husband’s vexation plays center stage for her as she recalls taking his hand in hers to quell what it was that had caused such a private display of emotion he so very little showed.

The maid’s face is painted in surprised not prepared for the request of information. There is hesitance and yet she knows she will tell what she has been asked. Fingers slide the door closed as if those working could not hear the contents of what she would dare say within this bedroom.

The tale is long, and it is now that the sibling she recalled mention of is finally given a name. The sibling is adored and a prodigy. This sibling is the role model for her husband and undeniably someone he loved deeply.

So he has loved deeply.

This sibling of her husband was cherished, and loved on such a deep level by many. The maid's voice does not hide this. The words are covered in what she can only assume is longing and hurt. The betrayal and how it had occurred is made clear under a hushed tone seconds later, and the emotions her handmaid gives way to are present and decorating her as it turns to grief. It all comes with the ideal that they felt he had died when he had betrayed them all.

Sakura does not know at what point she has dismissed handmaid, and thanked her for the new found knowledge. Light steps have taken her from the dark of her bedroom and out to the garden. The flicker of her eyes to the lone cherry tree her husband seems so fond of stands before her. The feelings of vexation, and frustration have washed themselves out of her system as she places her digits across her mouth.  Curling into herself she lets the sadness decorate her milky face. Rose-colored hair shields the sadness from any worker who might witness this moment within their garden.

This man has lost too much.

His mother and father gone from this Earth. They were gone from his side never to return. His brother whom he had adored glowingly from the words spoken now fights him a war that seems to last forever. He too was gone from his side unable to return when he chose to side with the Senju.

This man truly has been given nothing to hold onto.

She can see him literally doing all that he can to protect whatever remains within his grasp.

When this washes off she knows the earlier vexation felt towards Sasuke will be there, but she would swallow it all. There would be no release because she could not burden him with her temper. She will hide this side of her.

No matter what it takes she will welcome him home with a smile. She will be the one to stand by his side in a world where he had lost those deeply apart of him.

[tenscupcake]

electrostatic potential (30/?)

ten/rose. adult this ch. another one down guys! more notes on ao3. thanks a million to amber for the literal HOURS of her time she dedicated to helping me with this and making it better. summary: as the doctor and rose traverse time and space looking for adventure, they slowly fall victim to a mysterious energy that can manipulate their emotions. though confused and unnerved by the cerebral affliction, neither of them understands its cause, or realizes that it could jeopardize their friendship. what will it take for them to discover the truth? this chapter on ao3 | back to chapter 1 on ao3

The Doctor is quite familiar with the concept of adaptation. Living creatures adapt to their environments, even when surrounded by distressing stimuli. Desert dwellers learn to survive sweltering summer days; the metabolic rate of most species slows in response to a scarcity of food; a person with chronic disability learns to live with it.

So, too, the Doctor has learned to live with the unrelenting threat of mortality.

Until this moment, he hadn’t realized that all his previous memories with Rose were tinged with dread. Even in the most enjoyable, intimate moments, the burden of certainty that she was a temporary presence in his life tormented him. That persistent, unsettling feeling in his gut that he’s making a mistake. The incessant whispers from the dark depths of his mind, warning him that he’ll suffer for succumbing to something as human as romance.

This burden has been so constant in his life, he hadn’t realized how heavy it had become. The double-edged sword of adaptation: it facilitates survival, but over time it can cause one to forget what it’s like not to need it. Forget there’s a better way to live.

Only now that it’s been lifted does the Doctor finally realize what he’s been missing. For the first time, he’s able to pour all of himself into a kiss and savor each moment just because it’s wonderful, not because he doesn’t know when it will be his last. Not because he’s trying to engrave the memory of her lips in his mind to sustain him once she’s gone and he’s forced to carry on. He’s never known what it feels like to experience a touch from her without wondering in the back of his mind how much longer it will last.

He doesn’t even attempt to hide any of these revelations from Rose, too inflated with the sense of relief to do anything but trust her with all of them.

With her legs wrapped around him the way they are, her soft moans and the way their minds are intertwining so easily, the Doctor can’t help imagining what it’d be like to shag right here on this exam table. Why bother moving? He has every capability of keeping her artificially comfortable despite the less-than-ideal cushioning.

Now that the potential threat to her life has vanished, the adrenaline rush from mere minutes earlier suddenly finds a new outlet. Rose’s enthusiasm for his idea quickly manifests as intense arousal that winds its way into his mind. Potent as ever, it seeps into his bloodstream, circulates through his system until he’s flushed and dizzy from it.

He still finds it unfair that she knows how to get him hot and bothered and helpless in a matter of seconds now. Especially now, when she is not nearly as affected. Obviously turned on, yes, but her focus is not nearly as singular as his. Other subjects are competing for attention in her mind. Questions about the nature of her new existence are interrupting her fantasies, and the curiosity starts to put a damper on her passion.

The Doctor gently and wordlessly tries to convince her to let the questions wait until after, letting his hand wander under her shirt, tempting her with promises of things he’ll do to her, but it doesn’t have as much effect as it normally does. Instead, he starts to wonder about the answers to some of her questions, too. It becomes rather distracting, and not at all conducive to setting a sensual mood.

He supposes there will be plenty of time for shagging later. Centuries of it, if they’re lucky.

Still, she has to shove his chest with a fair amount of force to break their kiss.

“Will I still have to sleep like a human?” she pants out. He huffs out a chuckle against her cheek at her first choice of question.

“I imagine so.” He nods gently. He takes a moment to dampen their connection. It’ll be easier on her to be able to formulate her questions properly before she asks them, and easier for him to focus without the overload of hormones. “Like I said, you’re still 100% human. Just… enhanced. So I think your brain will function basically the same, including the need for a nightly recharge.”

She’s quiet for a moment, and without thinking he lowers his mouth to her neck, still inebriated from the effects of her aroused mind. The hand beneath her shirt climbs a bit higher, grazing her breast. She sighs and clutches a fistful of his hair, but the distraction is short-lived.

“Will I still get sick?” she asks, tugging back on his head.

He pulls back again somewhat reluctantly.

“You’re still susceptible to human diseases, if that’s what you mean. But you’re not likely to contract much while you’re traveling with me. You’re always up to date on immunizations.”

“Will I have to do anything differently?”

He can hardly hear her thoughts anymore, but it almost sounds like she’s disappointed. Like she wants a reason to separate herself from humanity, for some tangible proof that she’s different from the rest now.

“Like what?” he asks, puzzled.

“I dunno.” She shrugs.

“I don’t think you have to change a thing. You’re just gonna age a lot slower.” He hopes this affirmation will reassure her that she is different, but it does the opposite. She frowns a little, cogs visibly turning in her mind.

“Can I regenerate?”

This question is sufficient to completely snap him out of the aroused haze she so easily put him in. He pulls back a bit more, taking his hand out from beneath her shirt. Placing his hands on the table on either side of her, he hums and gives it a moment of thought.

“I don’t think so.”

There’s a moment of silence as her forehead scrunches up.

“Why d’you look unsure about that?”

He exhales slowly. Damn, she can read him even better than she used to.

“You can’t regenerate,” he clarifies. “But… something similar is technically possible.”

“What? Seriously? What’s similar to regeneration?” She sounds more surprised than he would have thought. And a little frightened.

“I never told you this but…” He reaches behind his head, pulling on the collar of his shirt. He didn’t tell her about this for a reason, and doesn’t know if it’s a good idea to spill the beans now.

“What?” she pressures him.

He sighs again, dropping his arm.

“Jack Harkness is basically immortal.”

“What!?” she spits out, bringing her hands up to her head in disbelief.

“He died. You brought him back. Well, Bad Wolf did. I sensed it as soon as he was created. He was a fixed point in time. He can’t regenerate, exactly, but… he can’t die. Even if he’s killed, he’ll come right back. It’s why I ran away from him.”

“Doctor, how could you do that? He probably needs us! What kind of curse is that, living forever surrounded by a bunch of mortals?”

Biting his tongue, he gives her a pointed look.

“Right.” She catches her mistake and softens her harsh tone. “Sorry. But not anymore, right? I mean, I’m not totally mortal anymore.”

He brushes both past the accusation and her apology.

“I think his immortality was an accident. You couldn’t control the power you held, and when it was unleashed on him, it completely hijacked his biology. But this is different. I’m not sensing you’re a fixed point the way he is. Something is preserving your life, not eternalizing it.”

“So what does that mean?”

“Well, I don’t think you’d pop back up if you…” He leaves the end of the sentence hanging, for fear of completely ruining the nice mood they’d built up.

“So, still gotta be careful, then?”

He half-grins at her attempt to lighten the mood, but doesn’t answer. He can already feel himself deflating from the inside now that they’ve inadvertently brought up death again. He can’t let that happen. He simply can’t. Especially not now.

It was barely a few minutes that lasted, his naïve bubble of imagining Rose was safe from death now. His – their – lifestyle is dangerous, full stop. He’s living proof of that: exactly zero of his nine deaths have been due to old age.

“But I mean, if I’m not murdered or anythin’, will I just live forever?” she asks, and he’s relieved to keep talking. Talking keeps his brain at least partially occupied.

“Not forever. I can’t even live forever. I’m not literally immortal. But compared to a human lifespan, it’s just easier to think of myself that way, sometimes. And it’s like I said, I can usually sense that kind of permanence.”

“So, how long then? I mean, am I gonna outlive you?”

So many morbid questions. Can’t they go back to being carefree and snogging? He realizes how sentimental and hormonal she making him lately, and how ridiculous it is to think such a thing at a time like this. But he felt a lot better about their prospects a few minutes ago. Is simply celebrating the moment too much to ask?

But it’s selfish to deny her answers. This is her life, her mortality they’re talking about. She deserves to know, and on her own terms.

He considers what happened, that Bad Wolf’s power was essentially drawn directly from the heart of the TARDIS.

 “I think your mortality is probably connected with the TARDIS’,” he answers slowly.

Rose considers that for a moment, biting the inside of her cheek.

“An’ how long does she live?”

The Doctor rarely entertains such questions, but he does know the answer to this one. His and the TARDIS’ connection is uniquely powerful. He knows that whenever he passes on for good, the TARDIS won’t survive much longer. He’s the only one who can operate her, keep her healthy, and their lives are intertwined. If he were ever separated from the TARDIS, it would crush him, but if she were ever separated from him, it would kill her.

“Her life is connected to mine. We’ve been together so long, if I died, she would too. Fairly quickly. So, in essence…”

“Mine’s connected to yours, too.”

He nods bleakly in affirmation.

“What’s that look for? Isn’t that a good thing? It’s perfect.”

He sighs.

“It’s just like you said, Rose. Immortality, even quasi-immortality, is a curse. I never wanted to lose you, but I also never wanted to bring something like that down on you.”

“But you didn’t. I did. It was me, making the decisions when I was Bad Wolf. I must have decided this, way back then, even if I couldn’t remember.”

“I suppose so.”

“I did promise I’d never leave you. This is the only way I can keep my promise.”

His hearts swell despite the guilt.

“But I can’t regenerate.” It’s not a question, but he responds anyway.

“You won’t need to.” He’s resolute. “I’ll protect you, no matter what.”

“But what if…”

“Don’t,” he bites back, fury bubbling up inside him. “I will. The same way I have up until this point. If something is that dangerous, I’ll go alone.”

She doesn’t bring up the times he couldn’t save her, and he’s glad for it. He won’t make such a mistake again. There’s no way any Dalek scum is going to take her from him now. He won’t allow it.

But Rose also doesn’t try to fight him on his insistence he’ll take some missions alone, which is glaringly out of character. He knows she won’t be likely to take a decision like that lying down, she never has. She must not think he means it.

“I’m serious, Rose.” His fists clench with his jaw.

“You’re not gonna ditch me anymore.” She crosses her arms, just as resolved as he is. Apparently, she was just humoring him by staying quiet, never planned to let him go through with such a thing. “I thought we established that.”

“You can’t regenerate, Rose!” he lashes out, nearly shouting despite being so close. “Isn’t risking your life selfish to the people who love you?”

Oops.

He takes a step back, mortified.

Rose gasps softly, and he stifles down one of his own.

Swallowing hard, he backpedals as fast as he can.

“Your mother?” he manages to choke out. “Your friends?” Hearts in his throat, he gulps down another breath and stares at her, waiting to see if she’ll let his slip-up slide for the millionth time or if she’ll finally call him on it.

She does look undeniably disappointed, but miraculously, she lets it drop.

“It’s not about me bein’ selfish, though. It’s just about doing what’s right. You of all people should know that. Aren’t you doin’ the same, after all, risking your life even though you’ve got loads of people who care about you?”

“I can regenerate,” he insists. But knowing that fact doesn’t make much difference to her, he knows that. So he changes course quickly. “Just, don’t go throwing yourself in front of bullets. Please. I can’t lose you. Especially not now.” He can hear how desperate he sounds, but right now he doesn’t care.

She’s quiet, waiting for him to say more.

He closes the distance he put between them, and takes both her hands in his. Stares down at them, trying to keep his voice steady as he says his next piece.

“I once told you you could spend the rest of your life with me, but I couldn’t spend the rest of mine with you.”

“I remember.”

“I meant that. Because I really never thought it’d be possible. And… I just don’t want to squander this one chance I’ve got. You’re it. You’re the only one. I mean, you were… before, but… now…” He closes his eyes with a grimace, cringing at the words coming out of his mouth. All this hope is properly bad for his eloquence. And his dignity.

It’s a good thing Rose is the no-nonsense type. This would be so much worse if they had to play traditional human courtship games; if he had to play it cool now so he wouldn’t seem desperate, like losing her wouldn’t totally destroy him.

“I know.” She’s somber. “It’s not exactly easy for me, either, though, you know. When you go changin’ everything about yourself.”

Oh.

His hands fall away from hers.

“You mean… That is, if I… you’ll stay with me if I change again, though, won’t you?”

Panic suddenly bubbles up in his chest. It was exceptionally hard on her last time. He was born arse over elbow for her; if she had snogged him the very moment the regenerative fires subsided he would not have protested. But it took her days to accept that he was the same man. Weeks to stop acting like he was a stranger when they were alone. Months before she had the regained the level of trust and fondness in her eyes when she looked at him.

Is she unwilling to put herself through that again?

“Of course I’ll stay.” She wraps her hands around his back and tugs him closer. But she looks down at his shirt, as though she’s still withholding half the truth.

“I’ll be the same man, up here.” He tries to reassure her. She looks up, and he taps his temple.

“You’re right. Just not easy to get used to, y’know.”

“I know. And honestly, Rose, I do my best not to die. It’s a defining character trait of mine, believe it or not. But, it’s sort of…” He hates that he’s thinking it, and doesn’t want to bring it up at all, but he knows it will come out soon anyway. Whether because Rose considers it herself, or he accidentally leaks it while they’re connected, it’s bound to come out. “Inevitable that we will have to even the odds at some point. I do have two regenerations left.”

Rose’s face falls substantially at this idea, and he wants to kick himself for it.

A couple of things cross his mind, though. First, the deal he made with himself a few days ago: if need be, he can cancel his remaining regenerations. Second, the fact that he knows damn well why this is his youngest-looking incarnation yet. Without much deliberation, he decides to go with the second point to try to lift her spirits.

“But, you should know…”

“What?” She perks up at the potential.

“Well, when I changed last time, I did it for you. I turned out like this,” he from his head to his toes “because my subconscious thought it was what you wanted.”

“Did you get struck by lightning too?” she asks, scrunching up her face like she doesn’t believe him. “You’re sounding loopy.”

“No! I’m just saying that… it isn’t purely a lottery, though I like to pretend it is sometimes. I can’t really come out with two heads, or no head.”

“Great time to have a lark, when I’m watchin’ you die.” Her sarcasm is made more evident by her glare.

“Sorry,” he says, unconvincingly. “But… the truth is, there are certain factors that can affect the outcome. Like, in the early days of the Time War, for example. I needed strength, and resilience, and less empathy. So that’s the sort of man I became. The version of me you met. I can change into whatever I need to be, based on the life I’ve had preceding the change, the circumstances I’m in at the time of my death. And sometimes, that can include certain… strong emotional factors.”

He doesn’t say love again, doesn’t even think it. He’s careful not to, even though it’s so clear when they’re in each other’s heads he’s starting to forget why.

She hasn’t said it, either, though. Not in that context.

But the way she looks at him then, eyes bright and glassy, lips parted but holding back a gasp, he knows she’s thinking it.

“I was only thinking about you, while I was dying,” he continues, blowing past the moment. “I really, really wanted you to like me when I came out the other side. And you know what I was like before, I was…” he trails off, hesitant to slander his previous incarnation. Without him, he’d have never met Rose. He owes him everything. “But… you made me who I am now. And it could happen again. I can change into whatever you need me to be. That could even mean staying the same.”

“Really?” she cracks a little smile, encouraged.

“It’s never happened to me before, but I wouldn’t say it’s unprecedented in the universe at large. And even if I don’t stay the same, I promise you, I’ll make sure you’ll still like me.” He offers a gentle smile, and she returns it easily, pondering the possibility for a moment. She does seem uplifted at the idea.

“I’d never leave you, though,” she says. “You know that. Even if you do change. You’ll still be the Doctor.”

“Always.”

Waiting a long moment to ensure she’s depleted of questions for the time being, he leans down to capture her lips again. He intends it to be brief, chaste, even, but before they know it, hands are wandering and soft sighs are echoing through the infirmary.

Though he still thinks it would be brilliant fun to shag on the exam table, he really should be taking better care of her than that today. She deserves the best.

“Mh, want to head back?” he asks, breaking away.

“Really?” she asks, not bothering to hide her disappointment.

He chuckles against her lips.

“You were ready to have your way with me on this table a few minutes ago, what’s stoppin’ you now?”

“Nothing. I am certain it’d be lovely. It’s only that… I think you’ve been battered around enough for one day. And this table seems, er… conducive to bruises.” He taps his palm on it, and it gives just the unpleasant thump he predicted.

“I’m not as fragile as you think, y’know.” She narrows her eyes, derisive.

He only wants her to be as comfortable – no, more than that: spoiled – as possible, but he expected such a reaction. He continues with hardly a pause, trying a different avenue.

“No, you’re right.” He nods. “You’re not fragile at all. Tough as nails, you are.” Though he’s making a joke of it in this moment, he knows it to be entirely true; he’s seen just how resilient and capable Rose is. “But…” he lowers his voice. “It’ll be so much more comfortable there. It’s warmer… there’s a real bed. With real sheets. Soft ones, too.”

She does look enticed, but still hasn’t recovered from his jab at her fragility.

“Also, I just thought, since it’ll probably be our last night here, you might like to stay in our room for it.”

“Last night, really?”

She sounds disappointed, and her uncertainty gives him pause. They’ve done what needed to be done here, haven’t they? The fish are bouncing back. By the looks of it, Kairi’s project doesn’t need further input from him. Usually, Rose is ready to move on precisely when he is.

“Well, the problems are solved. Nothing left to see I haven’t shown you. Time we moved on, isn’t it?”

“Suppose so,” she shrugs, running her hand down his shirt. “It’s just been so lovely here…” she trails off, lost in thought. Silently toying with a button on his shirt. After a few moments, he begins to wonder whether she’s actually thinking about the island anymore or just imagining tearing off his shirt. He hopes the latter.

Suddenly, she shakes herself out of the trance.

“Where to next?” she asks, looking up.

After a moment of thought, he realizes he doesn’t know.

“I haven’t thought about it much, actually.” He frowns a little. He only just now realizes how odd that is. Before today’s cataclysm, he hadn’t given any thought to their subsequent destination. Despite the fact that this trip has been (romantic snafus aside) rather uneventful compared to other of their adventures, he’s been so wrapped up in everything with Rose he hasn’t been yearning to leave.

He always grows bored of any environment, eventually, becomes antsy to refresh his senses. Without the constant stimulation of fresh scenery and people, his mind crawls back to the past. Old demons and persistent fears wear down his psyche. So he avoids such circumstances whenever he can. He may have been forced into a nomadic existence initially, but now his wanderlust has become his most reliable coping mechanism.

But these past several days with Rose, he hasn’t once felt that urge. The deep tug to flee to greener grass. He’d be content to stay here several more weeks, years even. It was mere habit that made him suggest it was time to go.

But at the same time, the fact that Rose is going along with it so easily reinforces that line of thinking. Even if they’d both be content to stay, they’re more than content when they keep traveling.

“Oh?” she asks to break him out of his reverie. She sounds like she doesn’t quite believe him, and he can’t blame her.

“Off the top of my head, though…” He squints up at the ceiling to concentrate on potential locations, knowing looking anywhere on her body would distract him too much. “The golden mountains of Sbardha, perhaps? Orrrrr…. the infamous hypernova of the Taraka galaxy? Or, oh! I never did take you to Fentonillo. The aromatic planet. Even the dirt beneath your feet is vanilla scented.”

“What, seriously?” she sounds intrigued, but skeptical.

“Oh, yeah,” he nods, grinning. “You thought apple grass was nice, wait’ll you smell that.”

Rose giggles, and pushes him gently so she can jump off the table.

“We’ll figure it out later, hm? C’mon.”

She tugs on the front of his shirt and leads the way towards the hall.

When he carefully pulls open the front door and peers outside, it’s raining again. There’s a crash of thunder, but it’s muted and distant, perhaps a neighboring island taking the brunt of it now. Still, it’s easy not to feel threatened by the sound from within the safety of the TARDIS. He has his reservations about letting Rose anywhere near a storm again.

But then he remembers something.

“Not to worry,” he says, taking off back towards the hall. “I’ve got just the thing!”

He implores the TARDIS to move the storage room closer, and once the ship realizes why they’re in a rush, the Doctor is able to retrieve what he’s looking for and return to the console in a matter of seconds.

“An umbrella, really?” Rose asks when he brandishes the object upon his return.

“Not just any umbrella. An electricity-resistant rubber umbrella.” He sidles up to her and hands it over for her to inspect.

“Why do you even have this?” Rose asks, turning it over in her hands. “Go walking through storms often?”

“They’re commonplace on Karabijali. Essential, actually. Electrical storms are a daily occurrence there. Everyone’s got one. This particular model was a gift from an acquaintance of mine. Well, friend, I suppose. Well, ex-friend. We didn’t leave things on the best terms.”

Rose rolls her eyes at his anecdote, and pulls open the door, opening the umbrella as she steps out.

The Doctor follows closely behind and takes over responsibility of holding onto it. Though it’s plenty big enough for them to both be covered, he errs strongly on Rose’s side.

The walk is fairly short, and they don’t fill it with conversation. They would have to shout to hear each other over the rain, anyway, and watching the distant flashes of lightning has both their minds busy.

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever see lightning again without it eliciting hair-raising terror. He should be happy; it gave Rose a lifespan to match his. But each distant strike forces his mind to relive every harrowing detail: the light swallowing her fleeing silhouette, her lifeless body crumpling to the wood.

He’s anxious to get her back inside. Not just out of the storm, but bare in his arms. Maybe it’s vain, or naïve, to think that physically covering her body with his will do anything to protect her from any real dangers, but he can’t help it. When their minds and bodies are intertwined so closely, it feels like she’s safer. The universe can’t take her without going through him first.

As soon as they’re inside, he’s determined to waste no more time. He tosses the umbrella to the floor with a splash of water, and guides her over to the bed. She sits down on the edge, and he kneels in front of her, grazing his fingertips over the branching scars on her arms, still in disbelief at everything that’s happened in the last half day. He brings his hands up to her face, touching her temples to reunite them mentally. He’s had enough of talking and tests and numeric data; he needs to quantify her vitality with his own hands.

Her lips crash down against his, her hands are working off his shirt as soon as he’s suggested it. All their teasing from this morning and the infirmary table comes rushing back to them both. With the head start, their minds swirl together with a heat and desire that quickly translates to desperation for Rose. He has to slow her down with his hands tied around her wrists. Exude a sense of patience into her mind. Once he’s helped her undress, he invites her to lie back on the bed, stepping out of his shorts before he kneels down again.

He wants to take his time for this. Their first time united in this new, impossible timeline. His first time touching her since he thought he would lose her forever. To see for himself that she’s real and alive and his, and savor every moment. Every inch of skin. He can’t shake the feeling words will never suffice again; but he can at least begin to show her how grateful he is that she’s here. How beautiful and cherished she is.

His hands comfortably resting on her skin to maintain their link, he lowers his mouth to her ankles, which gave way too easily on the boardwalk. Willing strength into them with each kiss. He climbs up onto the bed as his lips ascend, showering her calves, knees, and thighs with tender kisses.

He’s then drawn to the scars on her arms, the only physical evidence of the transformation she’s undergone. He almost wants her to keep them as battle scars, reminders of how resilient she is. She silently agrees, but wishes his lips were elsewhere. Pleads with him to speed things up.

Want to take it slow, he says her through their link. I thought I lost you today.

She doesn’t respond with words, but their connection alights with understanding and reassurance. Her sense of urgency fades as she surrenders to his pace.

He’s gentle around her ribs, where faint bruises are forming from his own hands. Seeing the blue and purple blotches sends him straight back to the boardwalk, to an earsplitting crack and her heart stagnant in her chest. But Rose brushes her fingers through his hair tenderly as her mind quietly chases the memories away. He lets his lips linger on her chest as the sense of calm overrides the guilt and anxiety, savoring the way her heart is thudding against her ribs now. Grateful for her extraordinary ability to calm him, he spends some time tending to her breasts before continuing his exploration. The way it makes her squirm, clench her fists in his hair, gasp out his name, it nearly does him in.

He shifts his mouth up to her neck, where he can feel her racing pulse again. He can’t get enough of it. And when he finally touches her lips, it’s almost like kissing her for the first time again. Mere hours ago they were cold and still and her life was about to slip away forever as he touched them. But now they’re soft and warm as she fervently kisses him back, and he wants to go on kissing her forever.

Rose promises he’ll never have to feel them that way again.

Unexpectedly, a pulse of anger sizzles through him.

Don’t make promises you can’t keep, he commands, his eyes welling with tears.

I never have.

It’s not a tough act or a way to push her away. His default state is assuming everyone either leaves or dies. Because they always have. Every single one.

Rose knows that, but she’s trying to make him understand this is different.

And as much as his subconscious is fighting it, he can’t deny there’s an ember of hope inside him now that they may be able to spend forever together. And not only does Rose see that hope, she encourages it. Stokes it with every intoxicating stroke of her hands, every brush of her mind against his, until it’s a raging fire in his mind. For a moment, he’s even angrier that she would do this to him, because though it’s a possibility now, it’s far from a certainty. And the more hope he has, the more devastated he will be if those hopes are ever crushed.

Fueled by his anger and her determination, their kiss grows passionate. Before long, messy and uncoordinated. He rolls them over until he’s settled on top of her, pinning her arms to the sheets. His patience dwindles with hers, and he starts to grind slowly against her thigh until they both let out a groan.

He always knew she would slip away from him. Was convinced of it. It was only a matter of time.

But now… the test results flash through his mind. It’s more than possible. It’s likely.

Forever, Rose had said on that exam table. Not for the first time.

But this time it means something. It echoes with truth. It carries more weight than it ever would.

To everyone else, forever was an evocative vow; to him, it was hollow. Meaningless.

But the evidence is clear now. The numbers don’t lie.

Forever.

He slips inside of her heat at last, sighing out her name next to her ear.

Rose scrambles for a grip on his back, pulling him further, holding him closer.

But unlike what usually happens, their physical senses quickly fade from their perception as something else beckons their attention. The Doctor’s time sense tingles in the back of his mind, tugging on every thread of his consciousness, screaming for him to pay attention to it. He strives to ignore it, not wanting to interrupt this moment with his untimely ability, but the itch becomes progressively harder not to scratch. He lets down his guard for but a moment, and it quickly overrides their entire connection.

Golden, chaotic threads of time. Fleeting, contradictory visions. Decades of possibilities branch from this moment and wind into the future, the pathways ambiguous and blurry.

He recognizes it instantly.

It’s their newly intertwined timeline.

He can see all that could be, but until a few hours ago, this could never have been.

It would only take an ounce of focus to elucidate one of those paths, and the prospect is painfully tempting.

But he has to restrain himself. As all time travelers should, he has a rule against letting people know their fate prematurely, and he knows that ought to extend to Rose. Besides, if he can help it, he doesn’t want to know either. Whether it’s a future that entices him or one that fills him with dread, he’s better off not knowing.

But he also knows more often than not, he can’t fight these senses. When they have something to show him, he usually ends up seeing it whether he wants to or not.

He tries to steer their minds away from the future, back to pleasure and intimacy, and it almost works. He almost overpowers them.

But now that she’s had a glimpse, Rose is eager to see more. Bolstered by Bad Wolf, her power alone starts to make them a bit clearer.

His only way of fighting back, he starts to move, and tries to concentrate on the sensations it brings to overwhelm the visions away. The way she swallows him whole with every thrust, the way every inch of him fills and stretches her. Rose breathes out his name as the physical world catches up with her, but her desperation to peer into the future doesn’t diminish.

His time senses are too potent to ignore unless they’re both determined to.

The Doctor holds Rose’s hand as they race down a hospital corridor crowded with panicked medical staff. A fresh surge of attraction rushes through Rose when she realizes blue has replaced brown on his pinstriped suit.

He can’t help but smile as pride swells up inside him, and his mental fortitude to resist crumbles even further.

The TARDIS looks recently redecorated as they dance around the console initiating a dematerialization sequence. He can’t imagine doing that anytime soon, and concludes it must be far into the future. Perhaps even following a regeneration. Does this mean he may be able to stay the same for her, after all? A rush of euphoria floods through him at the thought, that translates to a wave of pleasure that brings them both to the brink of a climax.

He stops his hips and they temper themselves, both of them now loath for this to be over too soon.

It’s that moment that the Doctor realizes something: he’d normally see both sides of the coin in a revelation like this. Both the desirable and undesirable potential futures.

He can just barely sense some less enticing potential futures looming in front of them, shadows breathing in the distance. Ominous storms, threatening sheets of stark white.  Screams and zaps of lasers and whips of cold wind.

But inexplicably, the golden light lingering in Rose’s mind chases them away before the Doctor can make out enough details.

Rather than wallow in the knowledge they exist, known to him or not, he clings onto the bright threads of their one and only shot at this, because he never thought he would get one. Gravestones punctuated his lonely timeline before. Definite ends were a perpetual certainty. But for once, a timeline with another person stretches into an indeterminate future. Now that the floodgates have opened, he’s having a hard time closing them. He wants to keep watching.

Rose’s bags and books are scattered around his bedroom; both their clothes hang in his closet; there are two toothbrushes on the counter in the loo.

He’s standing next to an ocean next, wearing a tuxedo he doesn’t yet own, surrounded by familiar lavender sand as the sun sets over the horizon. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, combing a hand through his hair, messing up what was a pristine style. Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, he pulls out a pair of small silver rings inscribed with circular Gallifreyan.

He recognizes the trinkets immediately: they’re customary in Gallifreyan marriage ceremonies.

The Doctor freezes above her again, his breath caught in his lungs.

He suddenly feels a bit less guilty for not stopping this. With or without Rose’s persuasion, he was bound to have an episode like this. A shift in his timeline this critical wouldn’t remain stifled very long before its potential repercussions burst behind his eyes either way.

The events they’ve just seen are not set in stone – they’re in flux. All of them may occur, some, or none. But the mere possibility of some of them is enough to overwhelm their connection with a unique kind of hope.

Tears escape Rose’s eyes as the sprawling timeline shrinks and fades away, and the Doctor catches them with gentle kisses as he starts to carefully move again.

With a gentle nudge to her mind, he turns up the intensity of her physical sensations, and focuses solely on her as he settles into a new rhythm. Her pleasure quickly overflows into his body, too, and the building friction begins to drown out everything else once more.

Rose wraps her arms and legs around him possessively, determined to let nothing interfere with their forever. She begs him not to stop even as she vehemently wishes this could last forever, scrapes her teeth on his neck when she can’t decide which one she wants more. But by then it’s already too late. Soft cries of their names fill the air as they’re finally overwhelmed by it. Stars burst behind their eyes as they succumb to the tremors of pleasure, rocking back and forth in unison until they’re completely spent.

They lie tangled together for a while as they catch their breath, reflecting on everything they’d seen. They don’t talk; they don’t need to. But wordlessly reassure one another they’re ready to pursue the enticing possibilities that lie ahead of them.

When he opens his eyes, can’t help his gaze from drifting down to her figure, still pink and glistening from exertion. But before he can admire the view for long, her eyes open, too. As soon as she catches him staring, he feels her twinge of discomfort.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes.

He can feel her blush.

“Thank you for saving me,” she whispers to change the subject.

“Thank you for saving me.” She’s still so close to his mind, she understands that he’s using the word in a different sense.

She yawns, and her eyes drift closed again.

With one more kiss, he takes one of her hands in his, intertwining their fingers.

“You can sleep,” he whispers, brushing her hair away from her face. “We’ll have more time to talk tomorrow. And the next day. And the next ten thousand after that.”

She smiles, her eyes still firmly closed. He tries to stay strong as the strength of their connection starts to diminish when she slips towards unconsciousness. As much as he doesn’t want her to go, he can’t possibly force her to stay awake after everything she’s been through today.

But before she nods off, something startles her back to alertness. Her eyes open with a soft gasp.

Has she detected their connection is faltering and started to miss him already, too?

“You said a telepathic connection like we have shouldn’t be possible with me. With a human, I mean. It’s possible because of this, because of Bad Wolf, isn’t it?”

Right. Just another question.

“I’m fairly certain, yes. It’s still a mystery to me how I never detected it sooner. Wasn’t looking, I suppose. And I gather the TARDIS helped keep it under wraps for a while. Waiting until the right time.”

“’M glad it’s possible,” she murmurs. Curiosity sated, her fatigue catches up with her again immediately.

“Me too.” He squeezes her hand, and just barely manages to restrain himself from opening up their link fully again.

It’s less than a minute later she’s sound asleep.

He half regrets telling her she should sleep. A part of him (okay, a big part) wants her to stay awake all night so they can keep kissing and talking about their next adventure. Her exponentially greater need for sleep than his has always been annoying, but now that he’s likely to share a bed with her every night, he imagines it will be even worse from here on out.

He’s not at all tired. After everything that happened today, he has a lot to process. And he’s slept so many nights they’ve been here, he’s already overcharged as it is. Lying here yearning to touch her mind again, or worse, lusting after her while she’s trying to sleep, won’t be a productive use of his time.

He suddenly realizes the constant pattering of rain on the roof has stopped, the storm either spent or else raging on somewhere out of earshot. Without the incessant rain drowning it out, he can once again hear the gentle crash of waves against the shore he’s grown accustomed to. It would be comforting white noise if his mind weren’t racing.

Storms, test results, regenerations, marriage proposals… it’s a lot to take in. It was all enough to put Rose out for the night, but it seems to be having the opposite effect on him.

He’s just about to get up and head back to the TARDIS to find a project to keep his mind and hands busy for the night, when there’s a tiny rap at the door.

Confused and mildly alarmed, he leaps up to investigate, fishing his sonic out of his shorts before he heads to the door. But in the process, he realizes both he and Rose are still completely naked, and he’s suddenly gripped with panic.

He throws a blanket over Rose and wriggles his shorts on before he heads to the door.

He opens it cautiously, wielding the sonic in one hand. But he instantly relaxes when he sees it’s Kalei, equally shirtless. It is still a bit warm out from the tropical currents the storm brought in. But he was hardly expecting visitors tonight.

“Hi,” the Doctor says quietly, not hiding his shock.

“Hi,” Kalei sighs, as though with relief. “I just came to check on you guys. I was worried when you didn’t show for dinner.”

Oh. He’d completely forgotten about dinner. Rose really should have eaten, too.  Oh, well. She needs rest. She can catch up on calories tomorrow.

“Dad said not to bother you, but I had a weird feeling earlier. I just wanted to make sure.”

“Sorry we didn’t check in, Kalei,” the Doctor says, trying to ignore what Kalei said about having a weird feeling. “We had a bit of an eventful day. And we didn’t want to get caught in the storm.”

“Eventful?” he asks. “What happened?” His forehead scrunches with concern as he leans over to peer past the Doctor’s head.

The Doctor pulls the door until he’s squeezed between it and the frame, effectively blocking his view.

“Nothing,” he says gruffly, but his body betrays him by sending all his blood into his face.

Suspicious, Kalei’s eyes wander up to his hair, then flicker briefly to the side of his neck. He nods knowingly with a little smirk.

The Doctor slaps a hand over his neck and sighs, blushing even more. He doesn’t even remember that happening.

“Anyway, do you two want anything?” Kalei asks, sensitive to the Doctor’s discomfort. “I can bring back some leftovers.”

“Rose is already asleep,” says the Doctor. “And I can do without. We’ll definitely come round in the morning.”

“Okay,” he shrugs. He turns to go looking slightly disappointed, and the Doctor feels a tug of regret.

“Was there anything else?” the Doctor asks sincerely, and Kalei perks up.

“Well… I did sort of hope, maybe, I could ask for some advice. About Dakota. I never did tell you guys about that date.”

The Doctor’s stomach twists uncomfortably.

“Of course,” the Doctor says with faux enthusiasm. “But I know Rose would want to be a part of it. Can we all three talk in the morning? I’m sure we can sort it out.”

“Yeah,” he smiles genuinely, not discerning the Doctor’s interest is completely fabricated.

“Great.” Knowing Rose will be the only one Kalei needs, the Doctor returns his smile.

“Thanks, Doctor. Good night!” With a small wave, he turns and jogs away. He really has grown a bit fond of Kalei, and he doesn’t want to cause him any grief. By trying to help in this regard, he most certainly would. Rose will be far more helpful.

The Doctor cautiously closes the door. When he climbs back onto the bed, Rose whispers to him.

“Wh’s’at?” she mumbles sleepily, stirring under the blanket.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Rose,” he whispers back as he lies next to her. “I hoped not to wake you. It was Kalei, he came by to check on us. I said we’d see him in the morning.”

“Kay. Good.” She cracks her eyes open, as though to ensure he’s securely back in bed. He suddenly feels guilty for considering leaving to work on other things. It’s what he’s always done when they’ve slept together before. But that was only ever in a platonic context. It feels different now, somehow, especially considering the day’s events. He doesn’t want to be apart from her. But nor can he lie here bored all night, his mind wandering back to her near-death experience or the prescient visions he’d conjured. So what solution is there?

She’s about to drift off again when a thought occurs to him.

“Rose.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles, eyes still closed.

“Since you’re up. I… I hate to ask, but…” His airway constricts before he can finish the sentence.

His hearts clench tightly in his chest. Is this going to be too much? He shouldn’t be asking at all.

“What is it?” she opens her eyes, sensing his acute discomfort.

“Do you think… er… could I stay with you tonight? I mean,” he lightly taps his temple.

“What d’you mean?” she asks, her confusion no doubt worsened by her exhaustion.

“I almost lost you today, and after everything, I… don’t think I’ll be able to sleep. But I don’t want to be apart from you.”

“I don’t have to sleep, Doctor. I can stay up.” Rose opens her eyes wide, and immediately makes an effort to appear perfectly alert.

“You don’t have to.” The Doctor chuckles. “You can sleep while we’re connected, I just need your permission to maintain it. It would mean I’d be able to see your dreams, if you have any, but that’s all. I won’t go snooping for anything else.”

“Yeah,” she nods, looking relieved that she doesn’t have to sacrifice any sleep. “Yeah, of course that’s okay.”

“Okay.” He still feels ashamed for asking, but he’s also flooded with relief that he can stay with her for the night. It’s so much better than tinkering.

“How’s that work, then?” she asks.

“Well…”

With a brief touch to her temple, he takes them to Rose’s garden in a few short seconds. It’s still brilliantly illuminated, and he already feels lighter as he takes in the familiar scenery and breathes in the chlorophyll and sweet pollen.

The blanket is still where they left it in the grass last time. He gestures for her to lie down, and she’s relieved to do so.

“You can just let yourself fall asleep,” he continues his thought as he nestles into the space next to her and holds her hand. “The same way you always would. You’ll be asleep in the real world, too.”

“Mmhm,” she mumbles, snuggling up against him and closing her eyes.

“You might dream of me more than you normally would.”

“S’okay with me.”

She stays awake for a few minutes longer, happy to have him as a guest for the night. Cuddling is great, she says, but this is a whole new level of comfort. She’s never felt more… well, she can’t put a word to the feeling. The opposite of alone. Knowing he’ll be here with her while she sleeps, she feels safe.

Safe.

Knowing she shares the feeling of being safe when she’s close with him, his hearts feel like they could leap right out of his chest. He’s never considered himself very masculine, too geeky and slight to really fit the bill, but she makes him feel like a proper man. And he’s realizing more and more just how much he likes it.

It’s obvious the moment she slips under. The stream of conscious thought abruptly halts, along with the familiar mixture of surface emotions swirling inside her. Her mind instead flits between abstract thoughts and recent memories quickly, processing and storing. And some moments, it’s completely blank. A peaceful stasis. But regardless if her mind is occupied or at simply recharging, it cradles his just the same, like he’s something that was always meant to be there. It’s next to impossible to dwell on negative thoughts while he’s surrounded by her like this, and he doesn’t try.

Though he’s not planning to sleep, he closes his eyes, content to spend the night basking in her presence, letting the golden light of this place warm his soul.

But after about an hour, Rose Tyler does have a dream.

And it is about him.

[cchasing-the-sunn]

Could you write a Trimberly fic where Trini is dyslexic?

Trini stared at the passage in front of her and clenched herfist; not registering the feeling of the broken plastic that was once her pendigging into her palm and fingers, or the feeling of ink coating said palm andfingers. (Damn Ranger strength.) She had read the paragraph at least threetimes by now and just barely understood what the hell it was trying to tellher. She finally noticed her broken pen when ink dripped onto her notebook witha light ‘plip.’

She snapped her head up and looked to her hand, trying toregister when she broke her pen. It could have been five minutes ago, ten,fifteen, hell, even thirty minutes ago, with how tight her fist was clenched,the ink probably leaked out slowly with her fist acting as a tourniquet. Trinifrowned as she dropped her pen into the trash bin by her desk and wiped as muchof the ink off as she could on the edge of the bin coating the brown plasticgrocery bag she used as a can liner in black ink.

Trini grumbled as she stood and made her way down the hallto the bathroom. She washed her hands the best she could and scowled at theremnant ink stain the covered the majority of her hand. She shrugged and headedback to her home; her homework-unfortunately-wouldn’t finish itself.

Trini stared at her homework for fifteen more minutes,agitation growing more and more as she tried to focus and figure out what thehell her Biology book was trying to tell her about…she squinted at the cover,whatever the hell it was going on about; she couldn’t remember. She had an overwhelmingurge to toss her textbook out the window, and another impulse told her to flipthe whole desk. Trini rationalized it for a moment before she sighed and gaveup. She couldn’t throw her textbook out the window while the sun was still out,people would see it; or worse her parents; and she couldn’t flip her deskbecause the noise would bring her parents in without a doubt.

She deserved a break.

Ten minutes, she decided. Enough time to calm down, relax,get a snack, or scroll through Tumblr, or something similar. Trini laid down onher bed and brought her phone up, just a small break.

Except ten minutes turned into fifteen, fifteen turned intotwenty, twenty turned into thirty, and before Trini knew it a whole hour hadpassed and the sun had set.

Trini looked up from her phone and blinked as her eyesadjusted to the darkness of her room.

“Crap.” She grumbled; placing her phone under her pillow,grabbing her textbook and notebook from her desk before sitting on her bed anddragging her backpack up from the floor.

She got comfortable and opened her textbook again, turnedher notebook to a clean sheet, and set off to work.

Thirty minutes later Trini had successfully answered twoquestions that required a paragraph answer and was working on her third when aknock came and her mother stuck her head in.

“Still working on your homework?” She asked in an almost(not almost, it was) accusing tone, like she expected Trini to already haveevery single last assignment for the week done. It was Tuesday.

Trini nodded.

June sighed heavily and shook her head. “Don’t stay up toolate, your school work is important but you still need sleep.” With that sheleft and Trini rolled her eyes once the door was shut.

God, homework was already hard enough without her motherover her shoulder and sleeping was a concept Trini almost didn’t believe inthese days. Sleep was already hard for her to get before Rita decided to breakinto her house.

The nightmares were almost constant and Trini already hadtrouble sleeping, Rita just made it worse.

Trini looked down at her notebook and re-read her answer forthe third question but it didn’t make sense, she had no idea what point she wasmaking. She read the question again and gained some semblance but for the lifeof her she couldn’t formulate it in words.

Damn it!

She clenched her fist and this time she did register thesound of her pen breaking. Anger welled up in her as she stared at the brokenpen in her hand.

She threw it across the room.

Trini had hoped to find some sort of solace in throwing thepen but seeing it impale her wall only brought a whole new wave of frustrationbecause now she had to patch another freaking hole when she and her brothersjust finally finished patching the damage stupid Rita caused!

Acting on impulse, Trini flipped her textbook and notebook.Both flew into the air, almost hitting the ceiling, and landed face down onTrini’s bed in front of her; almost falling off the edge.

Trini was seething now as she glared at the offendingobjects. Her chest heaved with deep, angry breaths, her stomach felt tight, andher nails dug into her palms as she clenched her fists tight, trying to reignin her anger. She didn’t even know what made her so angry.

That’s a lie. She knew.

Trini was mad at herself because she couldn’t get it. Thebook was constant, the words didn’t change (although they did tend to move toher), the content stayed the same; it was her.

She gave up on homework for the night.

She placed everything on the floor, set her alarms to wakeher up with an extra two hours she could dedicate to homework, and went tosleep.

/\/\/\/\/\

She didn’t finish her homework.

She tried; but she got frustrated. She did finish more thanhalf of what was do that day so she called it a win and spent the rest of hertime before she hopped in the shower scrolling through her Tumblr and evenchecking social media feeds on the Rangers.

Trini would argue that the second one was a necessity, theyhad to make sure no one figured them out.

She was halfway through an article about the recentappearance of the Rangers when a text notification appeared at the top of herscreen. She checked the time and cursed softly. Her phone dinged a few moretimes as she received more messages from the Ranger Group chat.

Princessa: Morning.

Pain in my ass: Hey

Boy Blue: Good morningeveryone

Boss: Morning

Trini plugged her phone in and gathered her clothes andtowel. She now had at least forty five minutes before Kimberly and the boysarrive to pick her up.

Kimberly was the only one who had a car at the moment;Jason’s was still being fixed up, with help of Ranger strength to straightenout the body, and Billy’s mom doesn’t trust them with any of her cars since thetrain incident.

Trini showered and quickly got ready before she shovedeverything into her bag and headed downstairs for something for breakfast.

Her mother was already in the kitchen when Trini walked in;her father was sat at the table with a cup of coffee, and her little brotherswere eating cereal next to him. Trini was grateful her brothers weren’t bornidentical, she doubted she’d be able to handle all the shenanigans she’s heardabout identical twins doing.

Trini pressed a kiss to Mateo’s mop of hair and did the sameto Alec’s curly mop of hair before ruffling it. He cried out and swatted at herhands while she just smiled.

Her phone chimed signaling the arrival of Kimberly and theboys. She grabbed an apple and a banana from the fruit bowl on the kitchenisland.

“Bye.”

“Tri-“

Whatever her mother wanted to say was cut off by the frontdoor closing.

Trini smiled when Billy rolled down the window and waved,she gave a small wave back before she climbed into the passenger seat. Trinialways found it comical how the boys practically had to fold themselves just tofit in the backseat of Kim’s parents’ Audi. The backseat wasn’t that small, butthe guys were just tall. Zack used to get the front seat but an incident withthe AC controls got him sentenced to the back. Jason took the front seat afterthat, but Zack kept teasing Trini about sitting in the ‘Bitch’ seat because shewas the tiniest which resulted in Trini trapping Zack in a choke hold sherefused to let up on.

So now, Trini’s designated seat is in the passenger seatnext to Kim. More so now that the two have started dating.

Zack teased both about how both preferred it that way andTrini tripped him when they got to school and Zack was getting out of the car.

Trini got into the passenger seat and leaned over to press akiss to Kim’s cheek before she waved to the boys.

“Hey, sleep okay?” Kim asked and Trini nodded.

It wasn’t a complete lie, she didn’t have a nightmare lastnight so that was a win, but she did spend an hour just tossing and turning.

“Did you finish the Bio homework?” Kim asked and Trinicringed.

“I barely understood half of it but hopefully it’spassable.” Trini answered.

They arrive at school and once they are through the frontdoors they disperse to their designated lockers.

Trini spun the dial to her lock and mouthed the littleriddle she thought up to remember her combination. ‘It spins and clicks at2:36.’ She spun three times, landed on two, spun it counterclockwise to thirty,and clockwise to six.

It was silly, Trini knew that, but she would be damned theday she ever let it slip to Zack or anyone even, that she used little thingslike that to remember some things.

She pulled the lock off her locker and opened the door tograb her things for the day. Yay Ranger strength; she lugged everything aroundwith her during the day now, making it point not to have to stop at her lockeras much as possible during the day. Mostly to avoid the assholes who have beengiving her a hard time since she arrived at Angel Grove. Trini just didn’t carefor them, she didn’t have time to worry about them.

Trini’s day dragged on after sitting down in first period.She hated math with her entire being, she was never going to need to knowAlgebra after high school, like who was the sick son of a bitch who decidedletters and numbers had to go together? As if they weren’t already frustratingon their own!

Second period gym was okay, she stuck to herself, and theperiod passed pretty quickly.

Third and fourth felt like it was moving at a snail pace.

Lunch was some reprieve from her day. She dropped into aseat next to Kim at their lunch table and pulled her apple from her bag.

The boys were talking about their training session afterschool that day and Trini paid attention until the conversation switched tosomething else. She pulled out a worn paperback that she was reading in Englishand did her best to read the last chapter of her required reading from thenight before.

Her day is pretty normal in her opinion.

Until Ms. Johnson her English teacher asks her to stay aftera moment.

“Trini, can I speak to you for a moment?”

Trini stopped just before the door and turned around.

“What’s up?” Trini asked, adjusting her bag strap on hershoulder.

Ms. Johnson gave her a small reassuring smile and Triniwould have rolled her eyes if it wasn’t for the fact that Ms. Johnson was oneof her favorite teachers. She never rushed a lesson, always gave people thetime they needed to take notes, and make sure everyone was on the same pagebefore moving on. Plus, she never called anyone out in a rude way or treatedthem (the class) like they were delinquents.

(Looking at you Mr. Dover. Trini’s ninth grade mathteacher.)

Ms. Johnson walked around her desk so it wasn’t separatingthem and leaned back against it. “Nothing is wrong, I just wanted to speak toyou about your last essay.”

Trini quirked a brow. If nothing was wrong why did she wantto talk about it? “Okay?” She drawled.

“You’re a very intelligent student, Trini; but what caughtmy eye was the number of spelling and punctuation errors.” Ms. Johnson shiftedsome papers on her desk and pulled Trini’s essay from the stack, and handed itto Trini.

Trini looked over the red markings that circled errors andhad little correctional notes next to them, and scowled when she realized sheforgot a word in a few places, didn’t use the plural form of another, she evenrepeated some words right next to each other, and good lord, she really lovedcommas, it’s like she’s never heard of a semi-colon.

She was, however, still surprised at the large red ‘A’ onthe top of the paper.

“I got an ‘A?’” Trini asked.

Ms. Johnson smiled at her surprise. “Like I said, you are avery intelligent student. I just wanted to know if there were any learningdisabilities you never mentioned.”

Trini paused. The last time this subject was brought up hermother almost rented and loaded up a moving van single handedly before herfather managed to calm her down.

Trini was in seventh grade when another teacher brought upTrini’s difficulties in class; Dyslexia, she had called it. June had insistedthat there was nothing wrong with her daughter, that she was perfectly normaland had no problems whatsoever, refusing to hear the teacher out.

That was the last time Trini, no, her parents spoke on thesubject. Trini was a curious child who wanted to know everything, so as soon asshe got the chance Trini googled dyslexia and read all about it and how mostkids with Dyslexia also have ADHD.

Trini shrugged. “If I do, they’re undiagnosed.” Trinianswered.

Ms. Johnson frowned. “Oh, I don’t mean to overstep, it’sjust, I have seen this kind of thing in other students with dyslexia and evenADHD.”

“It’s fine.” Trini cut in. “You didn’t overstep, you’re ateacher, it’s your job or whatever to be observant.” Trini looked up and sawKim waiting just outside the door, giving Trini a bright smile. The corner ofTrini’s mouth twitched with the hint of a smile as she turned back to face Ms.Johnson. “Uh, if that’s all, can I go now?” Trini asked.

Ms. Johnson nodded. “Of course, again, I’m sorry if Ioverstepped or upset you in some way.”

Trini waved her off. “It’s fine, you didn’t, I’ll, uh, I’llsee you tomorrow.”

Trini walked out of the classroom and Kim threw an armaround her shoulders. Trini looked down at the paper in her hand and skimmedover the comments before she folded the paper in half long ways.

“Everything okay?” Kim asked, eyeing the paper in her hand.

Trini shoved the paper into her backpack. “How much of thatdid you hear?” Trini asked.

Kim gave Trini a look that said she was guilty ofeavesdropping. “Not much, I promise.”

Trini nodded and they continued their trek to their biologyclass in silence.

/\/\/\/\/

“That’s great guys!” Jason shouted from his place above thepit. Zack and Trini were down below ducking under and weaving around putties.Kim and Billy were sparring together a bit off to the side.  “Now go left, right, left.”

It was a good tactic, one that would have had Zack and Trinismoothly weaving out of the way of the putties.

But Trini went right instead of left first, promptlyknocking into Zack, resulting in both of them stumbling and trying to catchtheir footing but aren’t fast enough, and the rock arms of two putties bat themaside. They both hit the cave wall and fall to the floor with a thud.

Kimberly disengaged with Billy and jumped into the pit,taking out the two putties before they could bring their massive rock fistsdown on top of Zack and Trini. Jason shouted above her calling for the puttiesto disperse.

Kim helped Trini and Zack up before she focused herattention on Trini, dusting her off, and checking for any major injuries.

“Are you ok?” Kim asked, her hand cupped Trini’s face.

Zack dusted himself off and glared. “What was that, Crazygirl?”

Trini glared right back. “He said right!”

“No, he said left then right!” Zack shouted back.

Trini went to shove him but Kim held her back.

“Hey, calm down.” Kim hugged Trini to her, keeping Trini’sarms pinned to her side.

“Jason said right, weren’t you listening?” Zack asked,concerned; Trini was always focused during training, always following Jason’scalls, and letting him know if they were stupid calls.

Trini clenched her jaw and looked at Jason, her questionclear in her eyes even if her face was contorted in a glare.

“I said left, right, left.” Jason repeated.

Trini nodded once and shrugged out of Kim’s hold. She wasfrustrated, But not with Zack or Jason. She was frustrated with herself. Shewas better, she hadn’t had a directional mix up in a long time. She couldn’t.

“I’m gonna go get some air.” Trini said before she stormedoff.

Kim went to follow.

“Alone!”

Kim stopped.

/\/\/\/\

Trini took a deep breath as she balanced on one foot, hands togetherabove her head. She centered herself, her head phones on blast as she loweredher right arm so it was level with her shoulders and then her left. She hadbeen on edge ever since Ms. Johnson gave back her essay.

She was always so careful.

The last thing Trini needed was to add something to the longlist of ‘Abnormalties’ her mother kept.

The fit her mother threw when her seventh grade teacher evenbrought up the thought of Trini being different in even the slightest hasfollowed Trini around ever since; it was one of the reasons she couldn’t talkto her mother, she wouldn’t listen.

Not about that and definitely not about her…her.

Trini knew better, her mother already had so much againsther, Trini was not going to give her more.

She brought her hands together in front of her and releasedher breath.

She went over what happened in the pit. She swore Jason saidright first, but Zack moved left. Trini shook her head and lowered her otherfoot to the ground.

She should get back. Probably apologize to Zack, it wasn’this fault, and definitely apologize to Kim, she shouldn’t have snapped at her.

She jumped off the rock she was standing on and off thecliff into the water below.

[volklana]

I’ll Be There

Steve x Reader

Shout out to the wonderful, amazing and so, so patient @frickin-bats who has had to wait months and months and months for this request and never once complained about having to do so. I am so very sorry you had such a long wait darling all I can do is apologise and hope that this makes up for the wait you had to put in to finally see it- So much love Lana xx

Request: Hi! I saw you were taking request and I was wondering if you could please write one where Steve and a heavily pregnant reader are both avengers and one day Steve gets seriously hurt on a mission and the stress causes the reader to go into labor so the team is there for her? Lot of fluff/angst and maybe a happy ending? Thanks soooo much! 😊

Warnings: A hard labour, that results in reader being under severe stress and needing surgery.

Words: c, 2,100

Steve was rushing around the room packing the last few items in his mission bag and you followed him slowly, hand on your bump, trying to make him slow down.

“Please Steve I’m begging you, sit this one out!”

“Y/n, you know I can’t,” he sighed repeating himself for over the hundredth time, “It has to be me that goes. Besides, Bucky is going to be right here with you and I’ll be home before you even know it.”

A knock on the door signified that Bucky had arrived and when you opened the door, you smiled widely noting that he brought with him all the treats you loved to eat.

Whereas Steve preferred to eat a healthy diet, Bucky was your junkfood friend and his sweet tooth had been one of the things you had first bonded over. You had introduced him to so many sweet things and it had sort of become ‘your thing’ to and try out new treats and desserts with Bucky.

Even if they weren’t new for you, even if you’d eaten them a thousand times you would go with him because it made him excited and back in the early days you would have went to the moon with him if it made him happy.

He placed his collection of treats on the coffee table and came over to stand beside you where you were watching Steve pack his things.

“How is nugget today?” he asked reaching out to rub at your swollen stomach, and smiling when he felt a kick, “She knows her favourite uncle is here,” he smiled and Steve was smart because calling Bucky and having him here was already doing wonders for your nerves. Even if you still wished that Steve didn’t have to go do the Captain-America thing tonight.

 “I’ll call you when I’m on the way home,” he told you kissing you on the forehead, and you pulled him in for a tight hug.

“Look after my girls,” Steve told Bucky in mock warning and Bucky patted him on the back, he didn’t need to be asked, he would lay down his life for you and Steve knew it, as they hugged quickly Nat appeared at the door and Steve was on his way.

 You were halfway through the Prisoner of Azkaban, you and Bucky had decided to have a Harry Potter marathon, when Bucky’s phone rang and you paused the movie for him to answer.

His eyes went wide and he rose from the couch.

“How serious?” he asked in a hushed tone, trying not to panic you, but he knew it was too late as the panic appeared on your face, and he knew he couldn’t mask the terror on his own.

Steve was hurt, and badly and now he was asking to speak to you ‘just in case’ as he’d put it, before he passed you the phone he asked you to try and keep calm, and you nodded as you pressed your ear to the phone.

“Y/n?” it was Steve his breathing was coming out ragged and your heart stopped in your chest.

“Y/n I’ve been injured, back up is on the way and I’m going to be fine,” he paused as he took another ragged breath “I’m not leaving you and our child, I made you a promise and I fully intend to keep it, but sometimes my promises don’t work out quite the way I wanted them to so let me tell you, you are the love of my life, I never thought I could love anyone the way I love you, and you are going to be a fantastic mother to our little girl.”

You were openly crying now and he tried to shush you, “Hold on for us Steve please, we need you. I can’t do this on my own.”

“Listen to me, I’ll come back to you. To both of you. I’ll be there!”

“I love you,” you told him honestly and listened to him repeat the words back to you, as the line went dead you shot up from the couch and Bucky pulled you to him as you sobbed your heart out not even able to formulate a sentence.

Bucky fetched you a glass of water as you were beginning to hyperventilate and you downed it gratefully.

“Listen to me,” he said getting on his hunkers and brushing his fingers through your hair, “I know Steve, better than I ever knew anybody else and he’s strong and stubborn but more than anything he loves you and there’s no way in hell he’s going to leave you. Do you hear me?”

You nodded and placed a hand over your bump, trying to will yourself to calm down, Bucky rose and took his phone out to make a call, trying to find out any information he could.

 You could hear Bucky pacing back and forth outside the hall and you tried to focus on the sounds of his steps, tried to focus your energy on breathing quick shallow breaths. A huge cramp took you over and you cried out in pain, attempting to stand up to ease the pain and feeling horrified when you noticed your waters had broken.

“Not now. Please not now,” you cried out, clutching your stomach and silently willing your little girl to stay put!

You called out for Bucky and he stuck his head around the door worriedly and damn near dropped his phone when he saw the situation in front of him.

“Bucky, I’m not ready. I’m not ready!”

“Shh,” he tried to sooth you as he ran into the room to fetch your delivery bag, and gently guide you out the door.

He buckled you into the car and drove like a madman to the hospital, calling Tony and freaking out over the phone with him, and having Tony try his best to sooth Bucky would have made you smile on a good day, but you were in a mixed state of shock and pain right now and the only voice you wanted to hear was Steve’s telling you that everything was going to be alright.

You called his phone only for it to ring out and his voicemail played. You called it another four times just to hear his voice.

You barely registered the tears falling down your cheek as Bucky led you inside the hospital and you watched the bright lights flashing overhead as you were wheeled down to the delivery room.

Bucky stayed by your side, holding your hand through each painful round of contractions and soon Tony arrived, promising to do everything he could to bring Steve and Nat home.

Machines beeping caused you to lock eyes with Bucky, and soon doctors were flooding into your room, you called out to him, repeating his name as they began to wheel you to surgery, his panicked expression and him struggling against doctors trying to hold him back  the last thing you saw before you rounded the corner.

 The feeling of someone stroking your hair gently pulled you from the depths of slumber, and you opened your eyes. Once. Twice. Three times before they would stay open and Bucky’s blue eyes were the first thing you saw.

“Where is she?” you cried weakly and he smiled gently with tears in his eyes.

“She’s right here, she’s beautiful y/n. She looks just like her mommy.”

You sighed in relief as tears sprung to your eyes and you attempted to sit up, Bucky sprang into action, helping you up and placing your daughter in your arms.

“She’s so beautiful,” you cried kissing her forehead and stroking her tiny hands.

Bucky kissed your forehead, “You scared the hell out of me, I thought I had lost you too.”

Too?

“Steve?” you cried out again, the heart machine beeping with the increase of your heartbeat.

“No word yet,” Bucky said sadly, “Tony is gone to their last point of coordination, he promised to let me know as soon as he knew anything.”

You cradled your little girl to you as your door opened and you looked up to see the concerned faces of all your team as they flooded around your bed.

Wanda climbed carefully onto the bed beside you and cooed over your little girl while Sam pulled Bucky into a long hug that spoke volumes, you watched the slump of Bucky’s shoulders and you couldn’t imagine what the last few hours had been like for him.

Scott and Clint, took it in turns of suggesting names that she looked like when it was their turn to hold her and you couldn’t help but smile when both of them agreed on Peach.

“We are not calling our daughter Peach,” a tired and exhausted voice interrupted from the doorway and you almost ripped the needles out of your arms to get to him.

“Careful y/n. Careful,” Wanda urged as he finally came into view. Battered, bruised and broken, but alive.  

You were crying before he even made it into your arms and he was crying too, you sensed the emptying of your room as your team retreated into the hall to give you guys a moment.

You couldn’t even coherently communicate sentences but you knew exactly what the other meant, and when he kissed you it was like everything was right in the world again. You had been utterly lost without him, but now you felt settled again.

When he finally pulled away, Bucky stepped forward with your little girl and placed her gently into Steve’s arms and Steve actively wept holding the tiny bundle in his arms.

Bucky gently went to leave the room, before you called out his name.

“Don’t go,” you asked but it sounded more like pleading.

“This is a family moment,” he answered gently.

“You are family Buck,” you insisted and urged him to come back over, which he did shyly and with an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“I don’t know what I would have done without you today,” you told him honestly.

“You’re my family too,” he confessed quietly and Steve sniffed loudly, this moment being momentous to him.

“God, we hadn’t even settled on a name,” Steve chuckled as his little girl wrapped her hands around his finger.

You smiled up at him and it was almost like he could read your mind.

“Why don’t we ask her godfather for some suggestions?” you smiled at Steve and he smiled at Bucky.

“Me?” he shrieked “I couldn’t possibly!”

Both you and Steve fixed him with the same stare and he smiled gently.

“Ella?” he suggested shyly.

Steve moved towards you and ducked down so you could both look at her.

“What do you think mama? Does she look like an Ella to you?”

You nodded through tears as you stroked her tiny pink cheek and Steve kissed you on the forehead.

“Hello baby Ella,” he cooed and you pulled her tiny hand to your mouth to press a gentle kiss to it.

Bucky shifted on the end of your bed and you regarded him as he wiped gently at the corners of his eyes, and then the moment was interrupted by Nat storming into the room to pull you into the firmest hug you had ever been in in your life and you couldn’t help but laugh as she almost swiped Ella from Steve.

“Hi baby,” she whispered pressing a kiss to her tiny face and climbing onto the bed beside you.

“Don’t ever scare your aunty Nat like that again,” she whispered to your tiny little girl.

“You mean godmother,” Steve corrected and she whipped her head up to look between both of you.

“As if there was any other option,” you joked “You are the best godmother she could ever have.”

She smiled genuinely, and turned her attention back to Ella, “You are forbidden to date until you are at least 25,” she warned and you laughed loudly, causing everyone to look at you.

“With Steve as her father, and you and Bucky as godparents the poor girl is not going to be able to date anybody.”

“Ah you’re forgetting something,” Tony’s voice interrupted as your team mates began to pour back into the room. “There is a whole line of us that guys have to get through before they even make it to the Bucky and Nat stage.”

You smiled back up at him and couldn’t help but be excited for what the future meant for you and your over-sized dysfunctional family.

You reached out for Steve’s hand and smiled when he clasped yours in his much larger one, eternally grateful that he kept his promise to you. He was here and that was all that mattered. 

Tagging: @creideamhgradochas @sydsyd1874 @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x @markandjackaremysuperheros @ravens-2nd-blog @knittingknerdy @shamvictoria11 @buckysberrie @assembletheimagines @jennifers-bread @dearthofequanimity @sneakingpixiejutsu @bovaria @fvckingavengers @angryschnauzer @beccaanne814-blog @wellthatsrandomkek @3brosangel @palaiasaurus64​ @hellomissmabel ​​ @mitra-k-w @nikkitia7​ @fantasticimpaladoctor @angel34jolly-blog @feelmyroarrrr @marvelingatthewonder @james-bionic-barnes @fabulous-dani @voidjillybean @candyrogers @sebseyesandbuckysthighs @pimpaladestiel @tinaferraldo @andhiseyesweregreen @frickin-bats @alwayssmilepretty @buckyywiththegoodhair  @pandarosita @iiharu-kunii  @givemethatgold @fandom-hoe101 @moreinfinite @lilasiannerd @buckyb-avengers @avengerofyourheart​ @flowercrownsandmetallicarms​ @littlemissglassgirl​ @mytasterpeculiar​ @angel34jolly-blog​ @movingonto-betterthings​ @captain-amelia-bradley​@mizzzpink @dryerpet @puffedchoco @bigbadwolfhale @marvelgoateecollection @janvdyne @jaegers-and-kaijus @peoniesinmyhair @violeata @xxmusic13luverxx @pegausustheepic @itsagentromanoff @bellenuit45 @perrychastain @harrisbn @challenge-accep-ted @0lockandload0 @bbogi1999 @s-acafst @fandom-writes @redroomproperty

Again some tags id not work so apologies for that. If you would like to be added to/or removed from this list please just let me know.

[peetabreadgirl]

Writer’s Block 4.237

I intended to get this churned out in little blocks and post every 2k words. This is actually 3k, so consider the extra 1,000 words my apology. It seems even a little bit takes two weeks these days! But it’s getting closer. This is all cheese and fluff. And unedited! Please don’t point out my mistakes :) lol. I will crawl into a hole and die! 4.1 is here and you can find the first 3 here. 

I’m warm, and comfortable. And flat on my stomach with my face in the mattress. The sun is peeking through the tiny slits in the blinds over my bed. There’s a soft snore next to me and I open one eye, letting a slow smile take over my face. Blonde bed hair sticks up from beneath arms as Peeta lays face down with his head buried in a pillow, elbows jutting out from underneath it. I normally enjoy sleeping alone, but that’s obviously because I have no idea what I’m missing.

 Oddly, I’m not alarmed in the slightest by his presence on my couch - bed. I’m also not ready to remove myself from this scenario, so I roll towards him and lift his arm, burrowing into him. He releases a soft groan and repositions himself on his side so we fit together better, then tightens his hold on me. I don’t want to disturb our peace, so I say nothing. Neither does he.

 I must fall back asleep because I’m jolted awake by a surprised Peeta sitting straight up, and I almost tumble off the side of the bed and onto the floor. He grabs my waist and when we lock eyes my stomach falls. His eyes are wide and wild, like he doesn’t know where he is. I hope it’s not regret I see there.

“Wh-what time is it?” he asks, pushing his hair back with his hands before glancing at the watch on his wrist. “Shit,” he mutters, climbing from the bed and grabbing his things. I sit up slowly, unsure of what I should say. I was content just moments ago, but now I’m beginning to wish he hadn’t stayed last night, even though we did nothing but sleep.

 “Can I use your bathroom real quick?” he asks. I nod and point, unable to find my voice even for such a simple word as ‘yes’.

 While he’s in the restroom I quickly plait my hair into a side braid, then start a cup of coffee in a to-go cup. Moments later he emerges from the small space, hair tidier-looking, eyes less groggy. His clothes are rumpled but he’s still handsome as ever. We stand still, staring at each other awkwardly, both of us clearly struggling for something to say.

 “I hope you don’t mind. I, um, borrowed some toothpaste,” he says first.

 “Uh, no. No that’s fine,” I tell him. The coffee maker gurgles and spits behind me, signaling that it’s finished. As I look at it I get an idea to give it to him, hoping it might erase some of this weirdness between us. Surely he could use a pick me up, and I have time to make another cup anyway. I reach for it and turn back towards him, extending my meager offering. If anyone would have told me that my senior year of college I’d fall for Peeta Mellark and be begging the universe not to let things get strange between us, I would have laughed in their face. And then spit on their shoes. But here I am.

 “Coffee?” I meet his eyes every few seconds, relieved when an easy smile lifts his lips. Our fingers brush when he accepts it, but instead of retreating he steps closer to me.

 “Thank you.” My breathing halts as he reaches up and runs his fingers over my hair, down my braid that curls around my neck and ends just above my left breast. He leans in slowly and I’m rooted in place as he brushes his lips across mine. It’s the faintest touch, but the desire it flares inside me is unmistakable. “I’ll see you in class?” His whisper tingles against my lips.

 My senses are so skewed I can barely afford him a nod. He lays his forehead against mine and sighs. “If I didn’t have class in ten minutes…” he trails off, leaving me guessing as to how he would have finished that sentence. I want to ask him, but before I can he kisses me. Just a press of lips together, nothing that should feel as intriguing as it does. It’s innocent and pure, yet the feeling it elicits in me is anything but.

 “See you soon,” he says, releasing me. And then he’s closing my door with a soft click, leaving me alone. Something I used to appreciate but at the moment I have a distinct disdain for.

 I collapse back on the bed and groan into the emptiness. When I roll over I can smell him on my pillow. If I wrap an arm around it, close my eyes I can almost pretend it’s him. Almost. If it weren’t for the downy fluff where Peeta is solid, and the cooling material no substitute for the warmth he provides.

 I have two hours until my first class so instead of wishing he would come back, which will do nothing but make my day drag on, I pull out my laptop and begin to write. The words are sweeter than I’ve managed before, flowing straight from the experience I’ve recently had. There’s nothing sexual and everything sensual about the scene with Julia and Adam as they fall asleep together. The affection he shows is comforting to her and the feelings surrounding this part of the story are pulling her into a game she’s never played before. A game with rules she’s not familiar with. I feel her butterflies as acutely as if we are sharing the same stomach, and for the first time, I’m excited to see what happens with these two.

 I slip into class a little late, which is still early compared to most people’s definition of being on time. The room is already filling up with students. I try not to find Peeta with my eyes  but it’s futile. He’s there, planted in the seat next to mine with his laptop already out and his bag on the desk I always sit at, saving my place.

 His smile lights up the room as I near and he reaches for his bag so I can sit down.

 “Hi,” I say, proud that I spoke first. Or that I was able to speak at all with him looking at me like that. The sunshine pouring out of him that once caused me misery now beckons me like a seedling breaking the Earth’s surface for the first time, desperately in need of vitamin D.

 “Hey.”

 We share a few glances at each other and an awkward smile, or at least mine feels awkward. Peeta looks like he could be a smile model. Straight white teeth, pink lips and a dimple that punctuates the joviality he always seems to exude. But before we can have any kind of conversation Effie greets the class and begins the day’s lecture.

 Our laptops are open and my fingers are flying across the keyboard, trying to keep up with Effie’s speaking pace. when the tab of my open story doc starts blinking. Curious, I switch screens and see a message from Peeta in the chat box.

 This is shaping up really nice. ;)

 A quick glance at his screen shows he’s taking notes as well, but I can see several open tabs there. He must have been reading while I was taking notes. I reply ‘thanks’ and send it, staring at the lonely word that conveys very little of what I’m feeling. I may be the one putting the words down, but he’s been a fundamental part of the tone and the direction, not to mention some of the experience I’ve been given. Just thinking about it warms my cheeks, so I touch them with cool hands, stopping short of fanning myself lest Peeta look over and read my face for the open book it seems to be.

 I’m about to go back to writing notes when three dots begin to dance in the corner of the chat, signaling Peeta typing.

 What are you doing tonight? is the message he sends through. I reply that I’m going to write the date scene.

 P - I have plans to help with that…

 K - Don’t you have to work on your art project?

 P - It can wait a few hours.

 It warms me to know that he’s not just leaving me to write the rest of our project, that he cares enough to put his other project on hold, even if I am willing to finish it on my own.

 K - Cool. Your place or mine?

 P - We’ll start at your place. ;) I’ll be there at 6.

 His icon closes out and he’s gone, leaving me to wonder what he’s planning. Start at my place?

 I spend the rest of class unable to pay attention to the lecture, and more than a little annoyed that Peeta can have that effect on me. What is happening? I used to be so focused on school and my goals. Now all my senses seem to be sharpened in his direction.

 We’re finally dismissed and I gather my things, ignoring Peeta as he packs up beside me. I’m determined to get my wandering mind and eyes back under control.

 “So I’ll see you tonight?” he asks.

 “Sure,” I answer. Even though I’m avoiding his gaze I can feel the warm smile radiating from him.

 Don’t look.

 I can see his jean-covered legs out of the corner of my eye. As I’m bent over my backpack I realize I’m eye level with his… that. A barrage of words describing it come to mind thanks to my recent project research. I’m glad for my embarrassment, even though he can’t read my thoughts - I hope - because now nothing can make me look him in the eyes. Though I’m no less distracted than if I were looking at him.

 I throw my pack over my shoulder and start to walk towards the exit. I can feel Peeta behind me, his hand hovering at my lower back, but he doesn’t touch me. His scent wraps around me as we move with the crowd. It’s mildly sweet and extremely intoxicating. At one point, the students in front of me stop abruptly, bottlenecked into the doorway and Peeta is so close he bumps into me, throwing me off balance. But his arms are there to steady me, coiling around my waist and he doesn’t let go. It reminds me of last night and this morning, and I’m tempted to lay my head back on his shoulder, but the crowd surges forward again and Peeta’s arms fall away. I’m wondering how I can get us back into a crowded area when he stops me.

 “I’m this way,” he says, angling his head in the direction opposite of my next class.

 “Okay. Bye, Peeta.” It’s a lame reply, but it’s all I’ve got. Everything he does or says catches me off guard. I should be getting used to it by now. Able to formulate a response in the face of utter charm and those beguiling grins of his. I can’t tell if the blinders fell away when our mutual animosity faded, or if they’ve just been replaced by rose colored goggles, but I know I’ve never looked at Peeta Mellark this way in the entire time I’ve known him.

 He smiles again and waves, then takes off. I glance at my watch and sigh as I mentally calculate the time between now and 6:00 PM. It’s going to be a long afternoon.

  I’m lounging in my room doing some literary research for the sex scene while I wait for Peeta to come over. I changed from jeans to yoga pants back to jeans before I made myself stop and do something that would actually help our story along. I shouldn’t care what he or anyone else thinks of how I look. I never have before.

 The kissing is turning to petting when a knock startles me and I shove the trashy novel underneath my pillow and hop from the bed like I’ve been caught. It take a few seconds for my breath to even out, but then I swing open the door to see Peeta on the other side holding a handful of wildflowers and the slow excitement that was building in me moments ago while reading the sensual words goes to warp speed. He’s so handsome it physically hurts. The red checkered button down he’s wearing is a stark, but beautiful contrast to his blue eyes and his dark wash jeans mold to his thighs perfectly.

 “For you,” he says, holding out the flowers. I stare at them too long without taking them and he pulls them back. “You don’t like them?”

 I realize my mistake too late, but I reach for them anyway. “No, that’s not it. I just, no one has ever brought me flowers before.” My voice trails off at the end with embarrassment. The girls in high school used to get them on Valentine’s and birthdays. I always rolled my eyes and told myself it was frivolous and stupid, but the way my stomach is dipping and soaring is a study in contrast to those beliefs.

 “You didn’t have to do this, you know,” I tell him, mostly because an awkward silence has fallen between us.

 “I wanted to,” he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Pretty girls should be given flowers.” He blushes and it seems as contagious as if he’d yawned. I feel my own heating up.

 “Are you coming in?” I ask and stand aside. He stays put and shakes his head.

 “No can do. I’ve got a hot date.” My bottom jaw is suddenly so heavy I can’t stop it from dropping open and my gut seizes up with dread. A date? He got a date since mid-morning when he promised to help me with our story?

 “Oh,” is all I can croak out. I’m frozen. I want to slam the door in his face and throw myself on the bed - couch! - but my appendages don’t seem capable of receiving communication from my brain right now.

 “Well, okay,” I force out before I burst into tears as it dawns on me that I’ve been fooled by my nemesis. A flash of anger hits me like lightning, and I know I won’t be able to stand being in his presence. Ever again. “You know, I bet I can finish up this story while you concentrate on art. No need for us to meet up again.” Like a horror movie set in a cemetery, the bitterness I thought I’d buried suddenly rises from the dead and before I can stop myself I bite out, “Tell your date I say hello.”

 The door is almost closed when a booted foot wedges between it and the frame. I’m growing agitated and swing it back open growling “What?” at him.

 He has the nerve to smile. That cocky, lopsided smile that makes his eyes twinkle and forms a stupid dimple in his left cheek. A dimple I feel like poking hard with my finger. I begin smacking the weeds against my thigh and envision the satisfaction I’ll feel when I drop them into the wastebasket.

 “Hello.”

 “You mean goodbye?” I say, growing more impatient for his absence. His grin widens and he  fucking laughs! I should probably tell him to leave because I’m two seconds from losing all self control and he has no idea the danger he’s in.

 “You said to tell my date ‘hello’, so I did.”

 Wait, what? His eyes search my face and he clamps his lips together, which still turn up in a grin despite his efforts.

 “You’re my date, Katniss,” he explains, clearly clued into my confusion by the look I’m wearing. “And if I weren’t convinced that you’d deck me right now, I’d kiss that scowl off your face.” His pulls his hands out of his pockets and pushed his sleeves up, revealing his forearms. Have they always been so muscular? And why am I so easily distracted by that?

 “We’re going on a…”

 “Date,” he finishes for me. “Come on, I’m starved.” He winks and extends a hand to me, which is like a magnet for my own as it joins his without hesitation. His touch is like a balm that soothes away the anxiety of the last few minutes and I instantly feel like I can breathe again.

 I look at the flowers in my hand, a little less full than they were when he handed them to me, but still pretty enough to salvage, and tell him to wait before he can pull me out of the apartment. My hand screams it’s disapproval as he releases me and I scurry to set the flowers in a plastic cup I use to rinse my mouth when I brush my teeth, then grab the key to my room. My legs can’t seem to carry me back to his side fast enough. I only hope I don’t seem as anxious as I feel.

I can’t help it, though. Peeta Mellark is taking me on my first date.