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dollslayer · 4 years ago

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Sweeter Endings

Sugar Daddy!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Still reeling from the financial realities of losing your mother you turn to a lucrative website for help and get more than you could have bargained for.

W/C: 5,325

Warnings: Smut (no minors 18+ only), light D/S dynamics, brief mentions of alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, swearing

A/N: NO MINORS, I wrote this for @donutloverxo 's Sugary 4k Challenge (Congrats!!) I love sugar daddy AUs so I was really excited to write this!! If you like it then please like/reblog/comment I'm all ears! Also maybe check out my other stuff if you want! Cheers!

Main Masterlist

____

The saying ‘desperate times call for desperate measures’ was truer than you’d ever imagined and you found out the hard way. Life had hit you hard last year. You had watched your mother succumb very quickly to cancer. A cold that just wouldn’t go away turned into a doctor’s visit turned into three months left to live. Having no one else in her life, the cost of her funeral and medical bills fell to you. The bills outweighing the inheritance you had no choice but to drop out of school.

One year later you were hanging on by threads to keep yourself off the streets without turning to a loan shark or selling yourself. Stocking shelves at a bougie grocery store in Soho by day and bartending in Tribeca by night had you working six days a week. What free time you had you were too exhausted to do anything with. Something had to give or you were going to collapse from the stress, you just didn’t know what.

A couple weeks ago you had been casually venting about how broke you were with a coworker when she jokingly suggested signing up for one of those Sugar Daddy sites. You laughed along with her but it sounded better than getting a third job. You had quietly asked one of your roommates to borrow their laptop saying you needed to look at job postings only half a lie, really and locked yourself in your room.

You were just gonna check out the website, maybe sign up and poke around, it didn’t mean you were committing to anything, just looking. You remembered first looking at the website once your shitty wifi loaded it, promising ‘beautiful and successful people making mutually beneficial connections’. You balked after reading that but you couldn’t look at any profiles without making one yourself so you had set to work.

After making your profile you hadn’t gotten any hits in about a week so you shrugged it off. You couldn’t keep hogging your roommate’s computer anyways so you set off back to work. Your days at the store wore on into endless nights at the bar and you wondered what other options you really had when you had no degree and no experience in any relevant field.

___

6 o’clock on a Thursday night, the typical after work crowd begins to roll in. The bar you work in is upscale, classy. Definitely trying to lure in the businessmen that worked in the area and their wallets. It annoyed you to deal with the same type of customers you did at the store all over again but with the high end crowd came good tips so you couldn't complain too much.

It was busier than usual when a group of men in suits walked in together asking for a booth. You saw a lot of business meetings take place over whiskey sours in this place so you didn’t think much of it. You tried your best to keep tending to your regulars when a pair from the group came over.

One of the men had deep brown eyes and a sly grin that when split gave you the perfect view of the gap between his teeth. He was confident but he had a kind look to him. His friend had dirty blond hair and a beard that clung to his perfect jawline and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t snuck a second look. You turned your back and continued filling orders to distract yourself when one of them cleared their throat behind you.

As you turned to face them you found it was the blond calling after you. His face held a hint of surprise but it was quickly replaced by a look of amusement as he smirked and one brow lifted, like he knew something you didn’t. He was like any other typical customer for you, professional and handsome, probably over-confident in himself. You returned his smirk and prepared your best charming banter. Time to earn those tips.

“Something to drink for you, gentleman?” You offered.

“We’d like a round of scotch for the table over there. You don’t mind bringing it over, do you sweetheart?” the brown-eyed man asked.

“Of course not” you answered. Pricks.

“Good girl” the blond said with a wink. Creep. A hot creep but still. Before you could ask he took his card out of his wallet and put it on the counter for the tab.

____

A round had come and passed, soon they’d asked for another but this time it was just the blond that approached you. You lifted your eyebrows in anticipation of an order.

“You here often?” he asked. Ugh, not even a good pick up line.

“Am I here at my job often?” You retorted with a playful smile.

The man’s shoulders shook as he chuckled. “Sorry you just uh, you look familiar that’s all. What’s your name?”

You supplied him with it and asked him if he wanted another round of scotch. He nodded.

“Smart girl, I’m Steve by the way.” He laid down his business card which you picked up with a look of challenging curiosity. Steve Rogers, CEO of Shield inc.

Oh. You didn’t recognize the name but you definitely knew the company. It felt like a quarter of their employees stopped in for a drink throughout the week and it was prominent enough of a company that you read about it weekly. Play it cool, these types want to feel like an every-man at the bar but still wanna feel important.

You raised your eyebrows again in recognition. “Nice to meet you, Steve, I’ll have your round right out.”

“Good Girl” he winked again at you. Okay so it’s hot, but he’s a total stranger and you don’t even know him. Stay on your game.

___

10 o’clock came around and things were thinning out slightly, regulars made their way out, awkward Tinder dates and rowdy young 20-somethings made their way in. The party of businessmen was still around but they were hopefully wrapping up after the 2 more rounds they’d had. Steve approached the bar once more and you preemptively picked up the bottle of scotch.

“Whoa, easy, girl! I’m here to pick up the tab” He said, taking out his wallet.

“What’s the name on the tab?” You decided to play dumb but based off the grin on his face he knew you were playing with him.

“Steve. Rogers.” He replied, his tone was stern but his eyes told you he was in on the joke.

You cashed him out and left him to sign his receipt so you could make more drinks. You saw him move in your peripheral and turned your head to see his face.

“Have a good night, sweetheart. I’ll be seein’ ya” he promised.

“Take care!” You smiled back.

A few minutes later you circled back to collect his receipt and found three $100 bills staring back at you. You blinked dumbly in disbelief, who the hell leaves a 200% tip? Looking around to see if Steve was still here he was nowhere to be found. You had no choice but to pocket the money.

____

Another week went by and left you wondering how much energy and concentration it would take for you to just evaporate, since that seemed easier than going to work today. Sadly still in solid form, you punched in at the store and stowed your things in your locker.

Your upscale customer base was a mostly pretentious and successful group of yuppies so even though you were grateful to not be on the streets you were constantly reminded of the professional success you couldn’t help but feel that you were missing out on. Stuck instead to listen to incessant whining ‘is this organic? I won’t eat it unless it’s organic’.

The upside of this job was that the time went by quickly because you always had so much to do. Plus with how monotonous the work was it was easy enough to zone out. So much so that you hadn’t heard someone calling your name and approaching you. A hand softly touching your shoulder snapped you into the present.

You looked up, startled to find a pair of blue eyes staring back into yours. You took a step back and processed who it was. “CEO guy?” Steve?

“‘CEO guy?’ I thought I recognized you, ‘barmaid’ or should I say… ‘stock girl?’” He joked using his fingers to make quotations.

Now that you thought about it, the store isn’t that far at all from the bar, it would make sense if he’s in the area. You smiled and tapped your nametag in response.

“I just came in on my lunch to grab a few groceries” looking down at his basket it held some protein powder, some eggs, and one lonely banana. “Clearly, I’m single. But you’d know that already, wouldn’t you?”

Your brows twinged together in confusion. What is that supposed to mean?

“Excuse me?”

He edged a little closer to you and lowered his voice “SeekingConnection.com?”

Your eyes widened in shock. The fucking Sugar Daddy site! I forgot about that! Surprise was quickly replaced with humiliation. You looked down and away as you felt your cheeks heat up.

“I don’t mean to embarrass you” Steve placated, “But I gotta say, I’m pretty hurt you never responded to me. I sent that message weeks ago and let’s just say I’m not used to rejection.” He kept his tone light, letting you know he wasn’t mad.

“I-I um, I’m sorry, I don’t have a computer and they don’t have an app, I was using my roommates’ computer and I guess I forgot about it…” You admitted.

Steve nodded in acknowledgement. Please say something to salvage this conversation. Please.

“Well,” Steve rummaged in his pocket for another business card. “You got a pen on you?”

You dug around in your apron and came up with one. Handing it to him you watched as he wrote on the back of the card. He held the card and the pen out to you.

“That’s my number, I’d ask for yours but I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, you already look like you wanna sink through the floor” Not helping, but I do. You took them from him and tucked them away in the pocket of your apron.

“You do have a phone right?” You only glared at him in response. “Well, if you check your profile, you would’ve seen I asked you out to lunch, offer still stands. Just text me when you’re free”

Should I even say yes? I mean, the winking the other night was weird but he’s good looking and at least somewhat considerate. I mean, it’s not like I had any other intention when I signed up for that site. What the hell. right?

“I… usually work mid shifts so I don’t know if lunch is doable, they only give me half an hour but, maybe we could do coffee? I’ve got tomorrow off from the bar I could meet you” you suggested.

If Steve felt pity for you he hid it well behind the wide smile he made when you offered coffee instead.

“There’s a place around the corner from here, just up a block, you know it? I’m off tomorrow at 6, why don’t you meet me there?”

“Sounds like a plan.” He winked at you again and started walking away. What the hell just happened?

____

You did end up borrowing your roommate’s computer once again when you got home to look up Steve’s DM. Sure enough, there he had been in all his internet glory. ‘Steve, 33, CEO. likes: art, conversation, whiskey. Digging around further on his profile you found that he owned several houses here and in Europe, he had a dog that was cuter than he was, and that he was ‘Seeking deeper connection’. All of these things piqued your interest.

‘Hey, Doll. Saw your profile and I had to ask, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this? Kidding, of course. But maybe you’d care to tell me your story over lunch? Your profile says we’re both in New York. - Steve’ Sent three weeks ago. Fuck.

You had texted him earlier to confirm, which is how you found yourself walking up the sidewalk towards the shop with a mind running rampant with nervous thoughts. What if he just wants to feel big about himself in comparison to me? What would I even really have to offer the relationship? A college dropout working two dead-end jobs with no social life. You needed to snap yourself out of it. You were just meeting for coffee doesn’t mean anything.

Pushing open the door you found Steve waving at you from a quiet corner. He was still in a suit, presumably coming from work himself. Even the buttons on his shirt looked expensive. You were wearing dirty jeans and a worn pair of work boots paired with a flannel. You couldn’t have looked more different if you tried.

“I waited for you to order,” He said. You smiled up at him, only now realizing how tall he was in comparison to you. He ushered you both towards the counter where you both placed your orders. You moved to take your wallet from your purse but he had already beat you there.

“Really? As if I’d let the lady pay, and on the first date no less?” He said playfully.

“Oh, so this is a date now, is it?” You kidded.

Steve shoved his hands in his pockets and gave you that boyish grin and a shrug. The pair of you made your way back to the table and waited for your drinks to be brought over.

“How was work?” You asked, “What exactly is it that your company does?”

“We offer security and surveillance software domestically as well as international. Stadiums, airports, other government buildings. Things of that nature. And work was fine, thank you for asking” Steve said with a genuine smile. “How was your day, doll?”

“Oh, my day was fine, more of the same but y’know,” You answered half-heartedly.

“You know, you never answered me, what’s a funny, pretty gal like you doing on a site like that?”

Embarrassment hit you again, this time maybe accompanied with a hint of shame. You were saved momentarily by your drinks being delivered. He seemed truly interested and since he was paying you supposed you owed him an answer.

“I was going to Columbia and I had a pretty good internship when my mom got diagnosed with cancer. She died three months later and since it was only always just the two of us I ended up footing the bill. I was on partial scholarship but between the hospital and the funeral I can’t really afford the rest of tuition on top of working for free so here I am” you explained, “Oh my god, I’m sorry I’m totally oversharing aren’t I? You probably don’t wanna hear about a bummer like this, sorry”

You tried to laugh to ease the tension you thought you’d created. Braving a look at Steve, he looked thoughtful and only a little bit like he pitied you. You could live with that.

“I’m really sorry about your mom, mine also got really sick before she died, I know it must’ve been hard. What were you in school for?”

___

You and Steve talked for hours, trading anecdotes of childhood and talking about each other’s interests. You had a similar sense in humour so you got on swimmingly. The evening seemed to be coming to a close as the night sky sent in through the window.

Being with Steve was probably the most relaxed you’d felt since before your mom was diagnosed. It became difficult to focus on anything but your financial situation and even though that’s what brought you here in the first place you had managed to forget all about it.

“So look, us getting together wasn’t exactly the most conventional on meet-cutes but to put it bluntly,” He said, “The CEO life makes it hard to meet real people and it gets kinda lonely, I mean, you saw my grocery basket” You both laughed at that. “You need money and I need company, I feel like we could help each other out. Whad’ya say? Think you could put up with me?”

You knew what this was but hearing it put so plainly was a little surprising. At least he was to the point.

“So if I said yes what does that mean, exactly?” you inquired.

“Well,” he started, “We take care of each other. Let me cover some of your bills at the very least, make it so you’d be comfortable quitting at least one of your jobs. And you’d keep me company, we go on dates, maybe you could come over, there’s the occasional work event or charity gala I’d need you on my arm for. Thoughts?”

God I can’t even imagine what it’s like to work only one job anymore. Maybe I could even save up and go back to school. He’s cute and he seems sensible, why not?

“Could we maybe take things slow? What you describe is something I’m down for but I don’t want to make myself completely dependent on you. But I’d love to be there for you, and I have to admit, the thought of only working one full time job is pretty crazy to me” You laughed.

Steve swallowed and placed one of his large, warm hands over yours.

“I can do things the old fashioned way, if that’s what you’d feel good with. I gotta say though, with looks like that it’s not gonna be easy” he jested.

You smiled shyly and looked away. You both stood to leave and he held the door open for you.

“I’ve already got your number from when you texted me earlier but I’ll talk to my assistant about my schedule and maybe I could take you out to dinner this weekend?”

“I um, I’d really like that. It’s a date” You stated.

“Oh, so you think this is a date now?” He jested.

You lightly punched him in the arm and he took the opportunity to pull you closer to him. You looked up to find his face inches from yours. You could smell his aftershave and his deep voice gave you goosebumps when he spoke next.

“I kinda want to kiss you goodnight, would that be okay?”

You could only nod as he shut his eyes and closed in. Your lips met in one perfect, chaste kiss. You sighed and leaned into his hand as it briefly cupped your face.

You broke apart and made promises to see each other soon. You felt like you could’ve floated home as you boarded the subway, caught up in the swarm of newly forming feelings.

_____

You sat in the break room when your phone buzzed to life, ‘Saturday at 7?’

You were about to type out a yes when you forgot you worked closing at the bar. Your thumbs moved quickly to tap out the reply ‘Working, sorry :/ the pitfalls of bartending. Sunday at 7?’

You were nervous telling him no and asking to change plans. You hated not being able to make things work but you only just met the man and the weekend tips were killer, it’s not like you could turn the shift down.

‘Ah yes, almost forgot. Sunday works too, I’ll text you the details. What’s your address? I’ll pick you up’

Oh, God. Steve can’t see my building! His cufflinks probably cost more than my rent!

‘I’ll just meet you there, don’t worry about it’

‘Not a chance, doll. Just tell me where and I’ll come get you’

You let out a worried sigh but knew you had to let it go. You sent him your address and went back to work.

____

Saturday was maybe the longest day in your entire week, in fact you loathed it. Mornings at the store followed by running immediately to the bar. Last call in New York was 4am so it’s a good thing you didn’t try to make brunch plans with Steve for Sunday. But ultimately both your shifts passed without major incident and now it was Sunday and you tried to ready yourself the best you could.

The place Steve mentioned was fancy, you knew that much from a quick search. Panicking instantly upon realizing you don’t really have any nice clothes you turned to your most fashionable roommate for help. She loaned you a cocktail dress that was revealing enough to draw interest without giving everything away. You just hoped Steve would like it.

‘Downstairs, doll. Silver BMW’ you exhaled. Hoo boy, here we go.

____

Steve handed his keys to the valet and rushed around to open your door for you. You held his hand and you clambered onto the sidewalk in your heels. His warm hand on the small of your back as he steered you towards the doors was a comforting weight.

Dinner has been lovely so far, he chose a place that wasn’t completely white-glove but was upscale enough to make you feel only a little underdressed.

You joked back and forth with him over the course of the meal, talked about your lives, and even found out you both have a guilty pleasure for cheesy rom-coms. It wasn’t until dessert and your third glass of wine came that you realized how much time had passed. You frowned slightly thinking of the early morning ahead of you followed by a long night at the bar.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

“Oh, nothing I just didn’t realize how late it was, I’ve got both jobs tomorrow it’ll just be a long day that’s all” you tried to wave it off but Steve frowned in response.

“Quit the bar” he stated.

“What?”

“Quit the bar. This is your card, I’ve already loaded $3000 on there. Put me in touch with your landlord and I’ll get you taken care of.” He slid the card across the table to you. Your name printed on the front. This got real very quickly.

“Steve, that’s.” You were in shock, a loss for words almost “that’s too much, I don’t know what to say.” You felt embarrassed taking the money. You knew that was the essence of your arrangement but actually taking his money had you feeling uneasy.

“Honey, this is what I’m here for. Let me take care of you. Give up your late nights. I wanna take you out on the weekends and you’ll need to be available for events. You can stay at the store if you want but quit the bar, you don’t need it.”

You took a deep sigh. He did say he wanted you to be comfortable quitting one of your jobs; it's just making the change that scares you. But something about Steve felt safe so you nodded and looked up to him.

“I’ll put in my two weeks”

“Good girl” he patted your knee and you involuntarily clenched your thighs. He smirked at that but let it go.

____

A few months had come and gone since that night and your time with Steve had been great. Only working the one job gave you so much more free time. You'd spent a good chunk of it just trying to form a normal sleep schedule but all the time you spent with Steve made it difficult. Not that you minded especially since your allowance was monthly but he’d showered you with gifts here and there.

They started off small, perfume, chocolates and flowers, or a simple pair of white gold hoops that reminded him of you. They gradually became pricier and more elaborate. You’d felt guilty accepting it all at first but he was insistent you deserve the best. He had even mentioned you moving out maybe finding a better place but you reminded him you needed to go slow.

He’d also been nothing short of a gentleman. Out in public at least, you’d learned the hard way that he was an absolute animal in bed. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep your hands off of him.

Something you had appreciated about Steve is that he never made you feel bad or less than for being broke. Never held his money over your head like leverage. You’d felt equal to him in all aspects, understanding you had just as much say as he did.

Still, there was a small nagging voice in the back of your head that reminded you Steve is not your boyfriend. This isn't a relationship and he's looking to get something out of just like you are. But if you were being honest you were catching feelings, it was hard not to when the man was giving you the fantasy. You decided to push that voice aside whenever it came up and let yourself be swept away. Maybe that would bite you in the ass but for now you were happy.

____

You were buzzed into Steve’s building and on the elevator ride up to his penthouse your phone buzzed. ‘I have to make a quick call- I’ve got a present waiting for you in the living room.’ You couldn’t help but feel giddy.

The doors opened and Steve was nowhere in sight but as you entered the living room a bag from Chanel and the Apple Store sat on the table. Oh god, what this time? I swear this man is too much.

You opened the smaller bag from Chanel first and found a beautiful black and white evening bag. It was sleek and simple, very much to your tastes. You were nervous to open the Apple bag, Steve always went overboard. Shakily removing the paper you pulled out the slim case in disbelief. A MacBook Air and a pair of AirPod Pros. The man well and truly spoiled you.

“You said you didn’t have a computer.” His voice came from behind you and startled you.

“Steve, this is too much. You’re too much.” You swung your arms around his neck and kissed him.

“Nothin’s too much for you, doll.” He kissed the top of your head.

“Think you could take a couple days off of work? I just got off the phone and confirmed plans for my house in Nice.”

A trip? France?? Oh my god. How is this my life? You felt so overwhelmed that you grabbed Steve by the collar and brought his face down to meet you in a kiss. His tongue swiped your lips and you granted him entrance. Moaning into his mouth your hands traveled up into his hair, pulling softly and coaxing a groan out of him.

He guided you to sit on the couch and brought you down into his lap. You ground down onto him and felt his hard-on through his slacks. Your hand moved slowly to undo the buttons of his shirt as he kissed down your jaw towards your neck. You sighed softly when he found your sweet spot and started sucking.

He helped you take off his shirt while you got started on his belt and undid his pants. He lifted himself off the couch slightly to move them down to his knees, taking his briefs with them. His cock stood proud and an angry red, leaking at the tip.

“I wanna ride you, I can’t wait.” You pouted as you writhed against him in need.

Steve tutted at you “that’s no way to get what you want. Ask me nicely, baby. Beg to ride my cock,”

You ground down even harder and whined. “Please, sir, please let me ride your cock. I need to feel you, I can’t wait any longer please.”

“Good Girl” Steve's hands flipped up your skirt and found your panties, ripping them to shreds. They were La Perla and had cost a pretty penny but he didn’t care.

He lined himself up and brought you down harshly gripping your hips. You moaned loudly in surprise and satisfaction and wasted no time moving back and forth. Steve made you feel so close and connected to him whenever he fucked you but he still made you feel sordid and dirty. You couldn’t get enough of the feeling, you’d gladly chase it.

His eyes were hooded as watched you chase your own pleasure and giving him some in return. His hands kneaded your ass and smacked it just to get a gasp out of you. He grabbed the back of your head and brought you in for a searing kiss that was all teeth and tongue. He’d nip at you and lick the pain away.

His hips met yours, finding your rhythm and speeding you both up when he gripped your hips.

“Can’t wait to have me, you had to fuck me on the couch huh?” Steve panted, “my dirty girl. So fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You put your forehead against his and went harder, pushing your clit to grind against the muscles of his abs.

“Only yours, sir.” Your orgasm was building. Steve was a pretty relaxed dom but you still needed permission.

“Sir, please let me cum I can’t wait any longer” you tried your best to slow your movements a bit.

“I think you can hold it baby, I wanna enjoy you a little longer”.

You could only whine in response and tried to slow your pace but his grip on your hips and his own movements pushed you further and further towards the edge. You tried to squirm out of his grasp but his hands only tightened. It felt like forever until Steve finally gave you permission.

“Go on baby, cum for me you earned it. Fuck your self on my cock and cum all over me”

Your movements were frantic, desperate to chase your orgasm when finally the perfect angle of his cock inside you and your clit against him set you free. You cried out above him and dug your nails in deep.

Steve held you firmly in place and started slamming into you from below, finally letting himself think about cumming. All you could do was hold on for mercy. Moments later he brought you down onto him one final slam as he came inside of you with a cry.

The only sound in the room was both of you trying to catch your breath. You sighed again and collapsed against him, nuzzling your face into his neck. He kissed the side of your face and let you make yourself at home while he caressed your back.

____

One shower and two more orgasms later you were both clean and made your way to the kitchen. Steve was gathering the ingredients for dinner when you hugged him from behind. Your head resting against his back. Steve twisted around and hugged you in full. You both stayed like that for a moment until you looked up at him.

You were so content. Moments like this where you were just domestic were some of the best between you. It wasn’t about money or material, it was just the two of you making dinner and enjoying each other, no barriers.

“Are you really going to take me to France?” Your voice came out muffled against his chest.

“Of course, doll. After dinner I want you to use your new laptop to buy some outfits for the trip. I left my card in your new purse.”

You lifted onto your tiptoes and kissed his nose.

“You really do think of everything, don’t you?”

“What can I say? I’m a planner” he retorted.

You didn’t know it yet but Steve was going to ask you to become official while you were there. He wasn’t worried in the slightest. In fact he’d never been so sure about something in his life.

#sugary4kchallenge #steve rogers x reader #sugar daddy!Steve rogers x reader #sugar daddy!steve rogers #sugar daddy au #marvel au #marvel fic #marvel x reader #fluff #smut

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wholesomemendes · 4 years ago

Note

Omg congrats on 1k🥳🥳 concept- a blurb about love languages and like ur guys styles are diff lil angst pls heheheh

Author's Note: Hiiiiiii. How are you lovies? I know you probably all hate me cause I just disappeared but hopefully this will kinda make up for it for those of you who are actually still here. Fun fact never used the queue before so we'll see how that goes. Also I vaguely remember the read more thing not working that well with asks, but I don't remember what I used to do to fix that so hopefully this works. Love all of you and miss you *mwah* please interact with me so I get more motivation lol

The second the door shuts to the condo you share with your love, you can already hear his unmistakable voice call out for you, “Baby, come here! I have a surprise for you!” You roll your eyes, knowing that some insanely expensive gift was probably waiting for you around that corner. Shawn wasn’t the type to randomly spend a large portion of his money on things he didn’t need, but when it came to you, there was no limit to his spending. Anytime he saw something that reminded him of you or that he thought you’d look stunning in, he couldn’t stop himself from swiping his card. It wasn’t like you didn’t appreciate the copious amount of gifts he gave you; you knew he meant well and that one of his love languages was giving gifts. However, as someone who was raised to be independent and not accept “handouts” from anyone, you found it hard to be constantly given things you didn’t work for and you didn’t believe you deserved yet. You didn’t find it fair that you weren’t at that stage in your life where you could gift Shawn something as expensive as what he gives you, but you constantly get those things from him. It wouldn’t have phased you as much if it was just for holidays, but this was an almost every other day occurrence and no matter how many times you told him not to buy things for you, he never seemed to listen.

You sighed, putting your purse on the table and making your way towards the bedroom, desperately wishing you could just relax into a warm bath after your hard day at work instead of facing whatever your loving boyfriend had in store for you. Opening the door you were met with Shawn’s smiling face, a large box with the word Gucci written in bold lettering across it. You put on a fake smile as your heart sank. This couldn’t be what you thought it was could it? “Hey,” he put the box next to him in favor of pulling you onto his lap, “How was work today?” He pressed a sweet kiss to your lips and for a moment, you let yourself get pulled into the utter bliss that was Shawn Mendes.

“I won’t lie, not the greatest,” you sighed as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Why, what happened?” he asked, his arm tightening around you to pull you closer.

“It was just insane today and my boss was in a bad mood and...I don’t know it was just bad and I’m exhausted.”

“Well, I think I have something that might cheer you up!”

“Shawn…,” you said in a mix of a whine and a stern tone, “I told you no more.”

“I know, I know,” he rushed out, placing the box in your hands, “I just want to spoil my girl. I can afford to do so and there’s no one else that deserves it more than you do.” It hurt your heart to hear him talk like that when not a single part of you felt you deserved it. You were nowhere close to where you wanted to be in your life career wise and you certainly weren’t near Shawn’s level of success. “Just open it, please?” he gave you his softest puppy dog eyes that always made you cave.

“Ok…” Opening up the box your heart stopped. There lying in the delicate paper was one of the most beautiful handbags you had ever seen; the one you had secretly been saving up for for almost a year now. You thought you had hid it from him so well, always looking at it when he wasn’t there to make sure you could still get it, and even putting together a small envelope of extra money to use towards it. This was supposed to be your first big designer purchase in honor of your huge promotion at work a little under a year ago today, but of course Shawn had to go and ruin it all for you.

Meanwhile, Shawn was oblivious to the disappointment and resentment brewing inside of you. “Do you like it?” he asked with the biggest smile, “I noticed the tab open on your computer last week when I borrowed it for those pictures and thought you liked it!”

“Why would you do this?” you whispered, a crack forming in your voice.

“What?”

“Why would you do this?” you almost snapped at him, looking at him with tears that held mixed emotions.

“B- because I love you,” he stammered, not having prepared to have this reaction. In his head you were going to come home, see the gift, smother him in thank you kisses, and maybe, just maybe, you would make love to him for the rest of the night. Never in his wildest dreams did it end up like this.

“If you loved me you would have listened to me and not bought this, or anything for that matter!” you exclaimed as you stood up off his lap, “I’ve told you so many times I don’t want you buying anything for me but you never listen!”

“I- I’m sorry, I just thought…”

“No that’s the thing, you didn’t think! I just- god, Shawn, this was it, the one thing I was going to do for myself after all these years. I was only $100 away from my goal, I was right there! But you can’t just think with your head for one second and think about how your girlfriend who always tells you that you don’t need to buy things for her might be planning on finally achieving one of her goals of having enough money to spend it on something like this!”

If your eyes weren’t filled with tears and you weren’t so blinded by your emotions you might have been able to see Shawn’s heart visibly breaking on the bed, leaving him looking like a hurt puppy. “I’m so sorry, I’ll do anything to make it up to you. I’ll, I’ll return the bag or or you can pay me back for it so it’s like you bought it yourself!”

“You don’t understand because you’ve never had any problems with money. It’s not the same anymore, Shawn. No matter what, all I’ll be reminded of is that you bought it first and not me.”

“What can I do? I, I swear I’ll do anything,” his voice cracked as his own tears filled his eyes.

“I don’t, I don’t know. I need to go.” You knew you were being dramatic, but after 2 years of the same thing with Shawn over and over again you had reached your breaking point.

“No please, I’ll fix this I promise,” he pleaded, standing up to face you.

You successfully avoided him so you could grab a small bag with your things, “Shawn, I need space for at least one night.”

He reached out for you this time, his large hand grabbing your arm desperately to turn you around, “Please, don’t go. I won’t buy you anything else, I swear!”

“It’s not that I just, I don’t know. I’m upset and I’m tired and my head is all over the place and…” His large hands cupped your jaw and pressed his lips hard against yours, giving you no space to pull away. The slight taste of salt from both of your tears on your lips broke your heart more than it was before. It was hard to explain why you weren’t fighting him on this kiss; it was almost as if he was kissing you so that it was easier to let you go for the night.

His lips released yours reluctantly with a sigh, “I’ll pack my things for the night. You stay here.”

“Shawn…”

“No, I was the one who messed up so I should be the one who has to leave. I still have a backpack I never unpacked from when I got back from LA last week and I can stay with my parents for however long you want. I- ,” he looked down shamefully, his hands finally dropping from your face. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to make you happy, but I wasn’t even thinking of what would really make you happy. Just, just tell me when you’re ready for me to come back home.”

He made his way through the bedroom, grabbing his phone, wallet, backpack and guitar before making his way through the door. Your heart cried out to go after your love, but your feet stayed planted almost in shock of everything that just happened. You were still mad at him, upset with him, and if it was possible, even more upset and mad at yourself. So as much as you wanted to run after him, you let him walk away with half your heart in his hands.

____________________________

“Mom?” you sniffled as you sat on the edge of your bed, the infamous handbag discarded next to you as if it was taunting you.

“Oh honey, what’s wrong?” the soft voice of your mother filled the speaker.

“I messed up,” you confessed, “I really messed up and I don’t...I don’t…”

“Take a deep breath, dear, and tell me what happened. I’m sure it can be fixed.”

“I don’t know if it can. I’m a horrible person!”

“You are not a horrible person. Now tell me exactly what happened.”

She listed carefully as a mother does while you went through moment through moment of your lash out with Shawn, up until the point where he left. “I feel terrible, Mom. This was just the one thing I had planned to do for myself and he never took into account how I would feel about this even though I constantly tell him how I feel about gift giving.”

“Sweetheart, I know you so badly want to be an independent woman and there’s nothing wrong with that. But you’re in a relationship now which means not everything you do can be independent. Think about it from his point of view: all of these things he gets you he gets out of love. He doesn’t do it because he wants you to rely on him for money, he knows you’re not with him for that and it’s probably one of the reasons he loves you so much; you treat him like a regular person. Not someone who is just a pretty face that can buy you whatever you want and get you fame. However, he is someone with money and that means he can afford these things for you. It’s not to belittle any of your accomplishments in your career or financially because we both know how supportive he is of you. It’s simply because he wants to show you he’s thinking about you and spoil you to make you happy. I know gifts aren’t one of your main love languages, but it’s definitely one of his. I bet if you had told him about this bag and how much it meant to you instead of hiding it from him, he would have never dreamed of taking it away from you. I understand your immediate frustration, but maybe think about if you’re truly upset with him about this or if you’re upset with yourself for not being able to reciprocate.”

“You’re right, Mom.”

“Of course I’m right, I’m your mother!” she let out a light hearted laugh, “But seriously, go apologize to that boy. He’s probably beating himself up over this.”

____________________________

“Are you and Dad home right now?”

“Yes, why is something wrong?”

“Can’t I just be coming over to say hello?”

“Of course you can, but I can tell by your voice that something is wrong.”

A sad smile formed on his face at the fact that even over a car speaker, his mom was still able to read him like a book. “Y/n and I got into a fight.”

“Oh no,” his mother gasped, never hearing many difficulties between the two, “What happened?”

“It’s my fault, Mom, I was being selfish,” he replied defeated, his guilty heart weighing down on him, “You know how I love to give gifts right? Well, Y/n isn’t always the biggest fan of it because she loves being independent. But I can’t help it! She’s the first person who hasn’t been overjoyed over every gift I give her and I never understand because I just want her to be happy and I know they’re things she would like so...I just don’t think! I don’t know why I can’t take a hint and just do what she wants me to do! I just want to make her happy, Mom, and feel loved and all I’ve done is annoy her and upset her!”

“Ok, before you keep going on this self-deprecated spiral, I need you to tell me what happened. And no more blaming yourself until I’ve heard everything.” So he did. And just like the conversation unfolding back at his home, his own mother listened to every word he had to say.

“From my understanding,” she began, “And I’m not saying this to try to defend you, but it sounds like she is battling some problems of her own.”

“No, you don’t understand, I wasn’t listening to her…”

“Oh will you hush! I wasn’t finished. Could you lay off the gifts and make them every once in a while? Of course. However, I believe her outburst today had something to do with some financial conflicts she is facing and maybe just an overall bad mood. You’re not perfect, obviously you need to tone down the gifts just a little bit, but you were definitely not in the full wrong here. There was no way she could have expected you to know about her intentions and plans so you can’t blame that on yourself. She definitely felt that she had to hide it from you in fear that you wouldn’t listen, which might be another issue if she believes that you aren’t willing to budge on your point of view. But you should not go beating yourself up over this! She’ll come around to her senses and you two will be fine.”

“Thank you, Mom. I hope so, I miss her already,” Shawn pouted, wishing so desperately that he was driving back home instead of away from it.

“Of course. Now I’ll make sure your room is all ready for whenever you get here and I’ll stay up to give you a big hug. How does that sound?”

“Amazing, I’ll be there in…” the sight of your name popping up on his center console broke him from his thoughts, “Wait, Mom, she’s calling me. I’ll call you back.”

“Good luck honey!”

With shaky hands, he hit answer on the phone, “Shawn?”

Even just hearing his name out of your mouth brought him comfort, “Yes? Are you ok? Did something happen?”

“No, I’m fine. I mean I’m not fine, but physically I’m fine. Anyways, I’m going to ramble so I’ll just try to say this quick before I stray too far away from what I was going to say and before I get myself even more worked up again because who knows how long…”

“Y/n,” he stopped you, knowing you would ramble on forever, “Why did you call me?”

“Please come home.” His heart nearly lept out of his chest at your words, not needing to hear anymore. “I’m so sorry, Shawn. I should never have lashed out at you and…”

“Don’t say anything else. I don’t want to do this over the phone. I love you, please don’t apologize and I’ll be home in half an hour.”

“But, Shawn…”

“I love you and I’ll see you soon.” With that he hung up the phone and sped his way back through the Toronto streets to the girl he loved most.

____________________________

The second you heard the door open you ran to launch your body into his arms, abandoning your previous post of walking holes in the floor. He gladly accepted you against him, holding you tight in his arms. “I’m so sorry,” you pleaded, new tears rimming at your eyes, “Please forgive me.”

“Shushh, we both can apologize in a second. I just want to hold you.” Shawn maneuvered the two of you back onto your bed with you in his lap, still clinging onto him for dear life. He felt your tears wetting his shirt and while it broke his heart to know you were

hurting, he hoped that being close to you for these few more moments would show that he wasn’t mad at you. After a couple minutes passed, he loosened his grasp on you, “Y/n look at me.” You did as told, revealing your tearful eyes to him. “I’m not mad at you,” he promised as he wiped your tears away, “I’m not upset with you in any way. I forgive you for whatever you feel you need to be forgiven for and I hope you can say the same with me.”

“No, you have nothing to apologize for!” you protested, “You did nothing but try to show me love and make me happy and I’m so sorry I couldn’t look past my own selfish issues. Talking with my mom made me realize that the reason I have always been so apprehensive to receiving your gifts is because I’m not at the point in my career that I thought I would be and I'm letting out my resentment at myself on you. I know how wrong that is of me and I am so sorry for it. There’s nothing wrong with you expressing your love through gifts and I can’t express how sorry I am for making you believe that you were the issue.”

“I forgive you. And I’m sorry, too. I should have talked with you about this and taken into account how you didn’t respond the same way as my friends and family when I give them things and should have taken a step back. I realize my gifts are excessive and I will work to tone them back so they are more special. I love you, Y/n. Even being away from you for an hour after a fight was too much for me to bear.”

“I love you, too. I hated being away from you more than anything.” He kissed your lips passionately, transferring every emotion he had for you into that kiss. Hands caressed your body as yours held him tighter in fear of him disappearing and neither of you wanted to relive this night ever again. “Shawn?” you whispered against his lips, receiving a hum in response, “Thank you for the bag. I can’t wait to tell everyone how my loving and thoughtful boyfriend got it for me.”

“You don’t have to, I can return it.”

“Return it? This is my dream bag and the fact that you wanted to get it for me because you could tell I wanted it means a lot even though I had the absolute worst way of showing it.”

“Stop,” he kissed you again, “I don’t want you to worry about it any longer. Let me just love on you how I had planned tonight.” And while it might not have been the way Shawn had planned the night to go, he was ending it exactly how he wanted to.

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daisybeewrites · 3 years ago

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July — d.j.

for @dreamcxtcherr ‘s 3k writing challenge. congrats lena!!

word count: 1.8k

warnings: mention of car crash/death, mention of alcohol consumption, daisy cries, i think thats it lmk if not!!

ship: R x daisy johnson

okay y’all… first ever anggstttttt!!! i’m way too excited about it. if you want a fully immersive experience, i recommend listening to july by noah cyrus slowed + reverb

(gif uncredited on pinterest (ugh, i hate that. credit a gif if you use it!! im trying to find the owner)) update — found owner

It was another mission. Another nightmarish fire-fight where you almost lost a limb, almost lost a friend, almost lost your life. Twenty-four hours later and you’re back home, safe.

Well, as safe as you can be when your engagement is on the verge of breaking off.

You stare at the simple ring on your left hand. White gold band, a tiny amethyst set to the left of a diamond. There was a nearly identical one lying next to the sink, the only difference being the switched places of the glittering gems.

You know she didn’t do it purposefully. You had both been exhausted after what was supposed to be an in-and-out mission turned into a hostage situation. Daisy did what she always did as soon as you were home — take off her gauntlets, wash her hands in the sink, grab a snack, and hop into a steaming shower.

But you still can’t stop yourself from staring at it, eyes fixed, hands shaking, breath held and mind racing.

You used to join her. You would wash each other’s hair, ease each other’s sore muscles with delicate touches on tender purple-black bruises. She would lean into you, letting you braid her hair and falling asleep in your arms, drifting into a deep slumber. It was intimate, lovely; it was normal and perfect.

Taking a sip of your room-temperature beer, you slide off the cool granite of the kitchen island. You had a new routine after missions now, you just had to get used to it.

You hear the shower shut off, bare feet pad into your cosy bedroom, and the door shut with a loud creak. The minute squeak of the mattress tells you that Daisy flopped into bed.

A ghost of a smile lights your face. It looks more like a grimace, you think, as you check your distorted reflection in the green glass of your beer bottle. Chucking the empty bottle in the recycling, you run a hand through your dirty, salty hair. The comfy sweats you changed into an hour ago would need to be washed, the dirt still adorning your skin rubbing off on the black material. You exhale before heading down the hall towards the bathroom.

The tiled room is filled with steam, the mirror fogged up so that only a blurry outline of your silhouette could be seen. You are unrecognizable.

How fitting.

The quick, cold shower you take does nothing to ease your mind or body. You wipe the mirror in a circle, taking out a first aid kit.

With all your cuts bandaged and the proper creams Jemma had snuck to you and Daisy applied to your fresh bruises, you headed into the hallway in your towel.

Daisy is standing in the kitchen, lilac lounge shorts you bought her last Christmas showing off her tanned and scarred legs. She looks warm and soft, a very different Daisy than the superhero who had broken a mob boss’ legs just hours before. Her hair is wet and in braids. You frown. You always braid her hair.

If she hears you, she doesn’t turn around, so you take a moment to admire her. Ten seconds, that’s all you give yourself. It was a stressful mission, if you stare too long she might snap. From the back, you can’t see the dark circles you know are there, but you can see the tension in her shoulders and the slight tilt of her head as she ponders what to eat.

You say nothing as you go to the bedroom to change. You find a black pair of SHIELD sweats and an old, holey t-shirt you vaguely remember stealing from Fitz. A presence at the doorway catches your attention.

“Hi,” Daisy says tentatively. Your breath caught in your throat, your lungs holding the air captive until Daisy spoke again.

“I missed you.”

Your eyes widened. Maybe tonight wouldn’t end with one of you on the couch, clutching a six pack while the other cried as quietly as possible, tucked into cold, lonely sheets.

“Braiding my hair, I mean,” She clarified. Her fingers twisted together, rigid posture giving away her nerves.

The air felt humid, as if the open window had suddenly sucked all the AC out and let the mid-summer heat in. Your memory flashes to the last time you and Daisy had a normal, happy conversation.

The edges are fuzzy, but the pure joy in Daisy’s chocolate eyes is clear. Fairy lights strung haphazardly around the living room, a movie playing in the background, your lips on hers. Blankets make a ceiling over your head that shut out the rest of the world, this moment was only for you two. You played with the thin metal band on her ring finger, she ran her hands through her hair. Her matching ring scratched your scalp lightly. You both smile as you pull away. You whisper childhood stories, laugh at the funny parts and offer melancholic smiles at the not-so-lighthearted parts. You were happy.

That night you got the call — Lincoln Campbell, yours and Daisy’s best friend, had wrapped his car around a telephone pole coming off of a long shift at the hospital. His blood alcohol was almost .40.

Eggshells littered the house from the time you got back from the funeral. One wrong word, Daisy would snap and spend hours punching a bag until her fingers bled. You would fill those hours with whatever was closer — wine or your car keys. You pulled yourself out of your head, realizing you should answer her.

“I missed it, too,” You breathed.

Daisy made a small, unintelligible noise before collapsing against the door frame. You froze for only a second, your mind racing through possibilities. Was she bleeding internally? Was it her back again? Did she get shot and not notice until now?

You leap over to her, catching her as she crumbles to the hardwood floor.

A quiet sob wracks her chest. Your hands hover over her slouched back, unsure how to comfort her. At this moment, Daisy feels foreign. Her sudden vulnerability alerts you to how she’s been holding her emotions in for god knows how long.

“Daisy…” You start, hesitantly.

Daisy hiccups loudly, another wave of tears washing over her.

“Tell me to leave, I’ll pack my bags,” Daisy cried, “But I don’t, I-I don’t want to lose you!”

Burning tears gather on your lash line, threatening to fall at her words. You never could stand to see Daisy cry.

Your brows furrow slightly in confusion before you realize what Daisy is talking about. After Lincoln’s death, you two had fought increasingly more often until Daisy locked herself away or spent the night at May’s, and you went for drives until your car ran on empty. On those nights, bottles of wine disappeared from the cabinet without a trace.

Daisy sits up, stamping down her sobs, seemingly resigning herself to the fact that you aren’t going to say anything. Her trembling lip and red eyes pierce your heart. The astronomical distance between you two seems atomic now. You reach out quicker than lightning, shushing her cries and rubbing her back.

“Do you want to go?” You asked after a while. Your knees dig uncomfortably into the floor, your shoulder hurts from the ridges in the doorframe.

Daisy sniffles, her hair falling into her face as she looks away. You crane your neck down, carefully tucking her hair behind her ear.

“You know I’m afraid of change, I guess that’s why we’ve stayed the same,” You sigh, your chest constricting and squeezing the broken glass pieces of your heart.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself to continue, “But if you want to find a new life, someone who loves you better than I do, darling, I understand.”

Daisy is still frozen, stare burning holes in the floor. You’re glad that the two of you are at home, the poly-tectic adaptive materials hidden between the walls keeping the house from collapsing. By the slight groan of the foundation, you can imagine Daisy could bring down a mountain with the amount of pain she’s in.

Which can only mean one thing.

“I’m not enough,” You stated. It wasn’t a question. You glance down, a glint in the low light cast from the lamp on the bedside table catching your eye. She has her ring on…

Daisy finally, finally shakes her head ‘no’. You let go of a breath, guilt building every second that passes. She isn’t happy. You shouldn’t be happy that she’s staying.

“Feels like a lifetime, we’ve been trying to get by while we’re dying inside,” You say, gently.

Daisy snaps her eyes to yours, a desperation in them you recognize as grief.

“So much of the past year has been consumed by grief. We never took time off, we never talked about it. I’ve done a lot of things wrong, loving you being one,” She whispers.

You nod, there is no denying that you each had a part in getting to where you are now. Delicately, you grab her hand. She squeezes it, a rush of small vibrations traveling up your arm. Your chest flutters at the familiar affection.

“So have I,” You assure her. She gradually falls towards you, exhausted. You let her rest her head on your shoulder, her breath evening out as her arms wrap around you. You feel hot tears flow down your face, fall onto her hair. Slowly, you pull Daisy closer to you.

Hours later, the sun peeks over the top of the mountain range in the distance. You had adjusted the two of you sometime around two a.m., no longer able to feel your legs from how the floor cut off your circulation.

Sometime around three, you had gathered the courage to move Daisy to the bed, trying hard not to wake her. She had only turned over and not let go of your hand.

You haven’t slept at all tonight, thoughts spinning until you force yourself to pause and count to ten, only to repeat the pattern.

You know what you have to do. You know what’s best for the both of you. You’ll leave, pack your bags and find a place to stay until you can scrape up enough money to rent an apartment. You’ll go to therapy, learn to live without Lincoln, without Daisy. Eventually, Daisy will heal, too. You both have the team at your backs, no matter what happens. She would be okay.

But you know you won’t. The fear of losing Daisy, of losing your life, your home, yourself stops you. You can’t move on. You can’t move forward.

You know that the big changes it takes to heal could cost you Daisy. So, you stay the same. You give into fear. You’ll never be enough, never love Daisy right, never quite heal fully — and neither will Daisy. But you still stay.

You’ll always stay the same.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ahhhh how was it? did you love it? any feedback? want more? put any thoughts/feelings/questions/concerns in the comments or my ask box!! i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoyed reading it even more!!

<<3

#daisy johnson x y/n #daisy johnson x reader #marvels aos #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#angst #fic #quake #ashby writes #dousy #lincoln cambell x daisy johnson #lincoln cambell x reader #mcu #bioquake #jemma simmons #gn!reader

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redgillan · 4 years ago

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Under Pastel Skies - 9

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 6,257

Warnings: mention of accident, mention of blood

A/N: I’m sorry this took longer than usual but it’s pretty long so yay! I hope you’ll like this chapter. We’re slowly getting there :’) Thank you for the feedback, I truly appreciate all of you! Also 1 marvel quote and several Bob Ross quotes that I obv don’t own.

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

Good luck on your interview xx

Bucky had just hit ‘send’ when Sam cleared his throat noisily, drawing Bucky’s attention away from his phone. His friends were frowning crossly at him, their glasses raised in a silent toast. He set his phone face-down on the table and picked up his glass.

“Sorry, you were saying?”

Sam shot Steve a ‘see?’ look and Steve replied with a shrug and a little smile. They looked like two sassy grandmothers judging their only grandson. Bucky checked his phone again, and out of his peripheral vision, he could see his grandmothers share another look.

“What?” he barked, annoyed.

“Nothin,” they both answered at the same time before they took a synchronized sip of orange juice.

Smacking his lips together, Sam opened the menu and began to skim through the choices. A waiter suddenly came out of nowhere to take their order. Bucky ordered a cranberry rosemary scone, smoked bacon, an eggplant sandwich, and a plate of lemon-ricotta pancakes.

“Excuse-me,” Sam called out to the waiter. “Could you make his pancakes in the shape of an angel?” he asked, ignoring Bucky who was openly glaring at him.

The waiter, albeit a little surprised, kept a smile on his face. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Bucky told him, handing him the menu. “Thank you.”

Without another look to his friends, he grabbed his phone and checked his messages for the third time in less than two minutes. Steve snatched his phone up and sat back in his seat, waving the phone at Bucky.

“Enough! Live in the moment.” He pocketed the phone and gave Bucky a pointed stare. “You’ll get it back later.”

“What the hell? You’re not my father, give it back!” Bucky snapped, extending his hand, the palm facing up. Steve shook his head. “Give it back, you fucking meatball.”

He got up and tried to reach inside Steve’s pocket for his phone but Steve kept shifting in his seat. They wrestled like that for a minute while Sam watched them, eating a breadstick and looking mildly entertained.

“Okay, fine,” Bucky panted, pushing himself away from Steve. “You leave me no choice, Rogers.” He cleared his throat like an actor about to jump on stage. “Give me back my phone, Steve!” he said, raising his voice. “Do you enjoy stealing from disabled people?”

He nearly shouted the last two words, and to Steve’s horror, the buzz of conversation around them had died. He could feel people staring at him. Cursing softly under his breath, he reached into his pocket and dropped the phone into Bucky’s awaiting hand.

“It’s okay, we’re friends,” Steve said to the people sitting behind him. They looked at him with a disapproving glare. “Jesus, Bucky, you’re making me look like an asshole.”

An amused expression crossed Bucky’s face as he sat back in his seat. “Don’t touch my stuff.”

It was quiet while he checked his messages. Slowly, those around them returned to their own conversations. Sam pointed his half-eaten breadstick at Steve.

“Do you think the waiter will spit in your omelette?” he said the last word with an exaggerated French accent. Steve glared at him.

Their waiter arrived a moment later carrying a large tray with their brunch. Steve poked at his omelet with a suspicious frown, then looked over at Bucky who was still on his phone. Sam stole a slice of bacon from Bucky’s plate and gave it to Steve.

“I hear you’ve got a date tonight,” Sam said, making conversation.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled, embarrassed. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just looking for something casual. I’m leaving in two days.”

“Where’re you going this time?”

“South Africa,” Steve replied, stealing another slice of bacon. “What about you? What’s that big emergency?”

Sam glanced at Bucky who was grinning like an idiot at his phone. “Not now. Let’s eat first.” He took the plate of bacon, took what he wanted then handed it to Steve. “Want another?”

Steve kept looking over at Bucky while they finished his bacon but Bucky didn’t seem to acknowledge their presence. He was in his own little bubble.

“It’s like we don’t even exist,” Steve remarked out loud.

“I know, it’s amazing. Look!” Sam straightened up in his seat and cleared his throat. “Bucky Barnes is the biggest idiot on the planet, and he can eat my farts.” Bucky was hunched over his phone, his thumb typing away. “See?”

“Impressive.”

“That’s the angel effect,” Sam said.

With a happy little sigh, Bucky pocketed his phone and turned his attention to his friends. He frowned at the amused look they shared.

“What are you guys talking about?”

“Steve’s first date in two years.” Sam turned to Steve. “You must be nervous.”

“Strangely, no.” Steve broke off a small piece of omelet with his fork. “I actually know him. He’s an old friend from college.”

“Nice,” Sam said.

“He’s a fashion photographer now.”

“Wait, what?” Bucky’s brows pinched in confusion as he stared at Steve.

Undeterred, Steve continued. “We’ve been facetiming a lot lately.” He shot Bucky a glance. “Why do you think I go to bed at 8?”

“But I thought-”

“You thought I had a date with your girl,” Steve said with a warm smile. “Listen, man, I like her. She’s cute, funny, talented. She’s a real sweetheart. But I like her because she brought back that light in your eyes. You look happy. That’s all I ever wanted for you. You had to go through so much crap, Buck. You deserve this.”

Bucky looked down at his pancakes, feeling tears pool in his eyes. He blinked them back and sniffed quietly. “So you were never going to ask her out.”

“I was until you called her ‘angel’,” Steve replied with a shrug. “You kept saying you were okay with this but, I mean, I’m not that dense.”

“Why do you keep going out with her then?” Bucky grumbled.

“Jeez, Mother Gothel, I didn’t know Rapunzel wasn’t allowed to leave the tower,” Steve exclaimed. “We were bored. You’re in your office all day. It was fun to mess with you though. You’re a grumpy Gus when you’re jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous, okay. I was annoyed. There’s a difference.”

“Uh-huh.”

Bucky looked over at Sam who had been strangely quiet throughout this whole exchange. He loved teasing Bucky, and he always had something to say about Bucky’s love life. Sam wasn’t looking at Bucky, he just pushed his food around with his fork, his lips pinched shut. He met Bucky’s eyes, then lowered his head again.

Bucky had a feeling something bad was about to happen.

“What’s the big emergency?” he asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

Sam set his fork down beside his plate and leaned back against his chair with a sigh. He trained his gaze on the front door, seemingly deep in thought.

“I’m moving to D.C.” He paused to let the information sink in. “They’re transferring me to the D.C. office. I’m their new chief financial officer.”

“Congrats, man!” Steve exclaimed. “You deserve it.”

“Yeah,” Sam replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s what I’ve always wanted.”

“So why the long face?”

“I’m a little anxious to leave New York. What will Barnes do without me? Without his mentor? Without someone to look up to?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I think I’ll be all right.” He hesitated before he asked, “Did you tell her?”

“Tell who?” Steve inquired, polishing off the last of his omelet.

Bucky felt the wave of long-held sadness his Sam’s eyes. “I’ll tell her tonight.”

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look. They weren’t sure how Steve would react.

The word sugar daddy held a pejorative connotation. Every single one of those relationships featured a powerful, rich man and a poor, vulnerable man or woman. There was a clear power imbalance here that never appealed to Bucky, and he was pretty sure it never appealed to Sam either.

Whether it was a no-strings-attached service or an emotional service, it was still a hole in your resume. One that would be hard to explain to your future employers. He was afraid people would call you names, treat you differently or harass you if they knew.

He often wondered if he had unintentionally ruined your life.

Deep down he knew Steve would never call you a whore or treat you differently but he was still trying to protect your reputation. He believed that Sam had Natasha’s best interest at heart too.

Sam told Steve everything. He remembered the day he had met Natasha, their instant chemistry, the subtle flirting, the arrangement, their first night out, their first kiss, their first time together, their new arrangement. Steve listened attentively. When Sam told him that you were Natasha’s best friend, Bucky interrupted him and told his own story.

“Wow,” Steve deadpanned, leaning forward to take one of Sam’s poached egg and avocado toast. Sam slapped his hand away. “Is that a thing now? Sugar daddies, I mean?”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“Yeah.” Steve sipped his mimosa with a bored look on his face. “You’re both not ready for the real conversation, so I’m just making small talk.”

Sam and Bucky exchanged confused looks. “What real conversation?”

“Sam, you just got an amazing promotion, you’re going to be the Prince of D.C. and you’re sitting here like someone kicked your puppy,” Steve replied, then turned to Bucky. “And you, well... I’ve been living with you for the past two weeks and you’ve gone all Alpha male on me, Buck. Cut the shit. You’re both in love with your sugar babies. Companions, or whatever the fuck you want to call them.”

Sam and Bucky sat in silence with their heads hung low. Steve opened his arms wide like a lawyer in a bad TV show saying ‘I rest my case’. When he spoke again, his voice was soft.

“Look, as maybe the world's leading authority on waiting too long, don't,” he said. “What’s the worst that could happen, um?”

It made Bucky think. Best-case scenario, you loved him too and life was a breeze for the next fifty years. Bad-case scenario, you didn’t share his feelings. Worst-case scenario, you shared his feelings but couldn’t make the transition from sugar baby to girlfriend.

Yeah, worst-case scenario sucked...

He came home around three in the afternoon, and smiled when he saw your shoes and coat. Knowing you were home always put him in a good mood, but his heart was heavy. He felt conflicted. He didn’t know if it was better to tell you how he felt now or to just keep living in this little bubble with you until it’d inevitably burst.

And to make things worse, Sam was going to end his contract with Natasha tonight. He made Bucky promise not to tell you about it. Bucky felt sorry for Natasha, he wondered if she had feelings for Sam. He wondered if she had a backup plan.

He found you in your studio, sitting on the floor, huddled against the wall, with one knee drawn up to your chest and your arms loosely wrapped around your leg. You were staring at the painting you’d just made, the still wet paint glistened under the artificial lights.

This painting was different from your usual landscapes and occasional portraits. There were various shades of blue and grey intertwined, and five big splotches of dark red paint layered on top of the canvas.

Bucky knew just by looking at you that something was wrong. You looked defeated, sad, upset. He reasoned that your interview didn’t go as planned. Quietly, he stepped into the room and sat down on the floor next to you, his left shoulder brushing your own.

“I just got home,” he said.

“Where’s Steve?”

“He said he had some errands to run. He’ll be back later.”

You nodded, still staring straight ahead. “Okay. I bet you can’t wait to have some time to yourself. I asked Natasha if I could stay with her, but she’s going out with Sam tonight. I’ll stay in my room, I won’t bother you.”

Bucky felt his heart drop, his breath caught in his throat. He had made the woman he loved feel unwelcome. God, he wanted to kick his own ass.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, tilting his head to look at you but you were stubborn and refused to meet his eye. “I thought you were going out with Steve and I- I didn’t want you to feel like you had to stay with me.”

“I’m not interested in Steve. I told you that.”

“I know.” He moved so that he could see your face. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you, and for the way I treated Steve. It won’t happen again. I promise. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course, Bucky,” you huffed.

He saw your chin quiver slightly and your eyes glaze over with unshed tears. You looked utterly broken. He reached up and wiped a stray tear from your cheek.

“Sorry, I had a difficult day,” you said.

His palm cupped the side of your face, his thumb stroking a caress across your cheek. You met his eyes for the first time and he smiled softly at you.

“My angel.”

His words made you cry even harder, silent tears streaming down your cheeks. With his hand still cupping the side of your face, he leaned closer and pressed his lips against your other cheek. You closed your eyes and basked in his affection.

He could feel the warmth of your tears, could taste the salt on his lips as they streamed down your cheek to his mouth. Slowly, he pulled back and looked at you, a smile forming on his lips when he saw a fleck of dried blue paint above your eyebrows.

“Painter Smurf,” he teased, wiping it off. You let out a huff of air that sounded like a laugh. “I’m here for you, angel, whatever you need.” He pulled you against his side and you rested your head on his chest.

“My interview didn’t go very well,” you said after a long moment of silence. “She said that I’m really talented, that my technique is perfect. But my work is too figurative. It’s not what she’s looking for.” You paused to wipe your nose on your sleeve. “It’s just- It wasn’t my first meeting. They all tell me the same thing: I’m not good enough.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky said, kissing your hair. “Your work is unique. It’s raw and beautiful. If they can’t see that then they’re morons.”

“She told me that if I had been a white man in the nineteenth century, people would still talk about me today.” You sighed. “I don’t know, Bucky. Maybe I should work on something more abstract.”

Bucky tilted his head to one side as he looked at your painting. “Is that why you painted this?”

“Mhhh,” you hummed. “She told me to play with the textures, the forms, the lines, the colours. Suggest rather than show. Let the painting tell its own story.”

“Yeah, I think you did it.”

“You think it’s good?”

“I don’t think those adjectives apply here. Not with modern art. It’s in the eye of the beholder,” he said, running his fingers along your shoulder. “Abstract art isn’t supposed to be beautiful, it’s supposed to make you feel something, right?”

“How does it make you feel?”

“Unsettled, sad.”

You straightened up and sat shoulder to shoulder. “My brother died in a hit-and-run.” You let the information sink in for a minute. “I was with Okoye, we got a call from our mom but by the time we got to the hospital, he was already dead.”

Your voice was surprisingly calm and controlled. Bucky wanted to reach out to you but he was unable to move. He listened attentively, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest.

“He was wearing some kind of compression shirt, grey-blue with two white stripes, and it was covered in blood. When I close my eyes and think of that day, all I remember is that shirt and the blood.” You tilted your head and gave him a little smile. “That’s what I painted.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He just sat there, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. He couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Sorry,” you let out a small laugh. “I had a shitty meeting and then I came home and basically relived one of the worst days of my life to put it on a canvas. Now it’s staring at me and all I want is to shred it to pieces.”

Bucky noticed that your hand was close to one of your palette knives. Your fingers brushed against the handle, debating whether you should pick it up and slash the canvas. He laid his hand on top of yours.

“It won’t help,” he said. “Trust me. I can put the painting somewhere else if you want. You won’t have to look at it again. I promise.”

“Yes, please.”

“C’mon, beautiful, let’s go downstairs. I know someone who can help you.” He got to his feet and extended his hand to you. You frowned up at him, a silent question in your eyes. “His name is Bob and he paints happy little trees.”

A bright, wide smile spread until it lit up your whole face, and Bucky’s heart melted at the sight. He grinned at you and pulled you to your feet.

“I love Bob Ross,” you said, and Bucky gave your hand a little squeeze.

In the living room, you sat down on the sofa, crossing your legs under you and grabbed a blanket while Bucky connected his YouTube account to the TV. He sat down beside you, propping his feet up on the coffee table and adjusting the blanket in his lap.

“Hi, welcome back. Certainly glad you could join me today.” The show started and you melted against Bucky’s chest, pulling the blanket up to your neck. “Thought today we could do a fantastic little painting-”

You were pressed against his bad side, but Bucky didn’t mind. As the show progressed, you slid further into his lap until your head rested on the armrest of the sofa, close to Bucky’s right hand.

“People know when you’re happy. They can look at your paintings and tell how you were happy. They reflect your moods. Paintings are a reflection of your innermost feelings.”

He gave your head a little massage while you both watched Bob Ross create a stunning lake view painting.

“Cuz in your world, you can create any kind of illusion that you want. I spent half my life in the military, and I had to live in somebody else’s world all the time. Painting offered me freedom, I’d come home after all day of playing soldier and I could paint the kind of world that I wanted. It was clean, it was sparkling, shiny, beautiful-”

You shifted a little, and Bucky wondered if those words resonated with what you had been through. Being adopted, losing a brother, taking care of your sick mother when your siblings left, graduating, making ends meet... Those experiences had shaped you into the woman you would be for the rest of your life. A kind and strong woman who never really got to live or enjoy life.

He understood how important painting was to you. He was an artist too. He wasn’t a painter, but writing offered him a kind of freedom he had lost a long time ago.

“We should paint along,” you said, tilting your head up to look at him. “Then I’ll sell yours. I bet people would pay a lot of money to own an original Grant Thomas painting.”

Bucky chuckled. He knew you were teasing him, the slight curl of your lips said as much. “I’ll sign it James Barnes. It’ll be worthless.”

“It’s not worthless to me,” you said.

“Would you hang it in your room?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then, okay, I’ll paint along with you.”

When the episode ended, you decided to eat dinner first and paint later. You were sitting at the kitchen island, eating a bowl of leftover pasta from the night before, when Steve came home.

“Hey guys,” he greeted, throwing a plastic bag on the kitchen island before he made his way to his bedroom.

“I’m so fucking late. I still need to take a shower and get dressed.” Steve came out of his room, shirtless, and working his belt buckle open. “Hey, Buck, can I borrow some clothes?”

“I swear to fuckin’ God, Rogers, if you undress in the middle of the kitchen I’ll make you eat your jeans.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He rushed to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. A minute later, Bucky heard the shower running.

Later, you went upstairs to gather canvases, paint brushes and paint while Bucky helped Steve pick out an outfit.

Steve was too excited about his date to remind Bucky that he was an idiot, and Bucky was happy that for once they didn’t talk about his feelings for you. He teased Steve and watched as Steve squirmed, the tip of his ears bright red. Just like old times.

Then they met you downstairs where you had two easels set up in front of the television. Steve stood in front of you, visibly nervous and agitated, while you looked at him from head to toe.

“How do I look?”

“Like you’re wearing clothes two sizes too small for you, which makes you look even bigger than you normally are so... pretty good.”

“Yeah?”

You chuckled. “You look great, Steve.”

Steve responded with a relieved sigh and a little bashful smile. Bucky liked that look on Steve, it reminded him of their childhood when Steve awkwardly flirted his way through Brooklyn.

Bucky jerked back to the present when Steve turned to him for confirmation. He gave him a firm nod and a thumbs-up, then walked him to the kitchen. They talked about Steve’s plans for the night while Steve gathered up his things.

Bucky was walking back to the living room when Steve called out his name and threw something to him. Bucky caught it in mid-air, then looked down at his hand. A shiny looking condom wrapper was nestled in the palm of his hand. He scowled at Steve.

“Just in case,” Steve said with a shit-eating grin.

“You’re a dead man.”

Steve’s laughter echoed down the corridor as he left the apartment.

Blowing out a breath, Bucky pocketed the foil packet and joined you in the living room. You were sitting at your easel, blobs of paint arranged in a semicircle on a palette. There was another easel next to yours, with a palette resting on a stool to make things easier for him.

You selected the lake view episode you had watched earlier, thinking that it would make things easier. Bucky was in awe of you, you made painting look so effortless and beautiful. You added your own trees and clouds, shifting things around to create your own world.

Bucky followed Bob Ross’ instructions closely but, in his opinion, it looked like someone had made it with their feet. You laughed at his comment and told him that you would still hang it in your room. It boosted his ego a bit.

When you both finished your painting, Bucky looked up at the clock. It was close to midnight which made him do a double take.

“Time for me to hit the hay,” he said, yawning. “This is as good as it’s gonna get.”

“Mhh,” you mused, turning the TV off.

“You okay?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, I- uh, I was kind of hoping we’d do this all night,” you said, playing with a mostly dried paintbrush. You looked at him from under your lashes. “But it’s fine. I understand, you’re tired. I think I’ll wait for Steve.”

Bucky looked at you with a pained expression. He could tell something was bothering you. He placed his index finger under your chin and tilted your head up. “Angel, I don’t think Steve is coming home tonight.” You pinched your lips together and nodded. “Talk to me. I want to help.”

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Your words hit him like a punch in the chest, leaving him momentarily breathless. He pulled you close and pressed a long kiss to your forehead. You clung to him for dear life, your warmth and familiar scent made his heart ache.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled against your skin, then pulled back a little so he could look you in the eye. “Let’s change into something more comfortable, um? Then we’ll catch some shut-eye. I have an idea, the first person to fall asleep has to make breakfast tomorrow.”

“You sure?”

“You’re right. I’m exhausted, I’ll fall asleep first,” he said, shaking his head. “New rule, last person to fall asleep has to make breakfast.”

You snorted. “No, I meant... are we going to sleep in the same bed?”

“I promise I’ll stay on my side. But if it makes you uncomfortable, there’s a bunk bed in Steve’s room.”

“No, it’s fine. I want to wash my face first. I’ll see you in a minute.”

Bucky tried to play it cool but his heart was pounding. He kept seeing flashes of his dreams in his mind: skin against skin, steady puffs of air brushing against his skin, the smell of sweat and something uniquely you surrounding him.

He was absolutely terrified.

He went upstairs, took a quick shower, brushed his teeth and changed into his pyjamas. His night-time regimen took longer than he had anticipated so he wasn’t surprised when he found you sitting cross-legged on his bed, scrolling through your phone, looking so calm and peaceful.

You were wearing your pyjama bottoms and a fluffy sweatshirt stained with blue paint and tomato soup. He felt his stomach flip when you raised your head and smiled at him. A chill ran through his spine, and made the hairs on his arm stand on end. He’d never seen you look more beautiful.

“Hey,” you said, placing your phone on the nightstand. “Which side of the bed do you sleep on?”

“The side you’re sitting on.” You rolled to the other side of the bed and slid under the covers making him laugh. “You didn’t have to move.”

“It’s fine. I prefer this side.” You looked around the room. “I like your room. It’s very you.”

“Ah?”

“Yeah, neat, organized, lots of books, a cosy armchair, stormy blue comforter. It looks intimidating but it’s actually really soft. Like you.”

He suppressed a laugh. “Thanks.”

Bucky climbed into bed beside you, turned off the light and drew the blanket over him trying to get warm. He lay on his back looking up at the ceiling. He was so stiff and nervous, he forced himself to breathe normally. You turned onto your side and slid one of your hands under your pillow.

“Do you usually read before you go to sleep?” you whispered, afraid to disturb the silence.

“Yes,” he whispered back. “Do you?”

“Sometimes.” There was a moment’s silence before you spoke again. “I’ve started reading your book.”

“Oh, Christ,” he let out a small laugh and turned his head to look at you, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. “I hope I didn’t traumatize you.”

“You have a very dark sense of humour,” you said. “But I already knew that.”

“I’ve always had a dark sense of humor, but trust me, when I lost my arm I wasn’t in the mood for jokes. Therapy helped a lot. Besides, laughing is good for your health, right? My books are very personal, I don’t censor myself.”

“I know. I wasn’t expecting it to be so honest.” You shifted a little and looked away from him. “I don’t know if I’ll finish it, I feel like I’m intruding.”

“I understand.” He shifted slightly so he was lying on his left side, facing you. “I wrote it like a diary. Talking isn’t my strong suit. I don’t know, I think I’m trying too hard and I just end up being rude or not making sense. When I write, I take my time, I find the right words. It’s easier when I don’t have to look anyone in the eye.”

He knew his book was a little rough. He focused on his depression, his rehabilitation, relearning basically everything. He talked about rediscovering his body, intimately. He talked about his friends, his family, strangers, therapy, dating.

“Can I ask you a very personal question?”

“Of course.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

He swallowed hard, his throat raw and tight. “Yes.” In fact, he was in love right now. “Once. I don’t trust easily.”

“I know I read what happened between you and your girlfriend.”

She had been his first girlfriend since the accident. She was kind, patient, a little over excited but he found it cute. In a way, she reminded him of himself before the accident. She wasn’t afraid to touch him, and God, he needed to be touched.

Sam had witnessed little things that irked him but Bucky had ignored him, refusing to see the warning signs. He wanted to be happy again. But then he couldn’t bury his head in the sand anymore.

She treated him like a child in front of their friends, and her friends praised her for taking such good care of a man like him. A man who, in their mind, was high maintenance. She cut his meat for him even though he was perfectly capable of doing it himself. She helped him dress, tied his shoes, zipped up his coat, etc... He felt infantilized, humiliated.

He didn’t think she was a bad person though. It was just her personality.

“How’s Natasha?” he asked suddenly.

A puff of air caressed his face as you snorted out a laugh. “Why do you ask? You don’t like her.”

“I like her a lot,” he argued. “She seems wary of me, which I understand, but she’s great.”

“Yeah, she is.” You considered his words. “She’s doing well. She went on work date with Sam.”

Despite his promise to Sam, he couldn’t bear the thought of keeping things from you. “I have to tell you something about Sam and Nat.” You waited for him to continue. “Sam got promoted, he’s moving to D.C. He broke things off with Natasha tonight. I mean, their arrangement.”

“I know,” you said. “She texted me while you were in the bathroom. I’m going to spend the night at her place tomorrow. It’s been a while since we had a girls’ night, and we both really need it.”

“Good.” He cupped the side of your face, let his thumb brush your jaw. “I’m going out with the boys tomorrow. Steve’s leaving soon.” He pulled his hand back. “We should try to get some sleep.”

“No, please,” you said, shifting closer to him. “Not yet.”

“Angel, we can’t stay awake all night.”

“I don’t want to be alone in the dark.”

“I’m right here with you,” he spoke gently.

“But once you fall asleep I’ll be alone.”

Bucky raised his head and kissed your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin. When he pulled back, he rested his hand on your forearm and let his warmth seep into your skin. His thumb caressed the inside of your wrist, stroked over your racing pulse point.

“I’ll wait until you fall asleep,” he said.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You smiled and let your index finger run down the length of his nose. “Does it hurt when you sleep on your left side?”

“Not really,” he replied. “Most of the time it’s just weird. It feels like my phantom limb hangs down through the bed. Like my arm is invisible and just goes through the bed.”

“What do you miss the most?”

He let out a long exhale. “Not much. Hugs. Proper hugs... I guess. Holding someone close and wrapping myself around them. Squeezing someone against my chest, making them feel protected. I used to be a great hugger. Now I give bro hugs.”

“I love bro hugs.”

His chuckled dissolved into a grin, and you both stayed quiet for a moment. He knew you weren’t asleep, he could hear you thinking. “What’s on your mind, beautiful?”

“I was wondering,” you started, then trailed off. “One day we’ll have to end this arrangement. Do you think it’ll end well, or is it going to be messy?”

It took him a minute to respond.

“Y’know, one of the things I learned in therapy was to stop worrying about things I can’t control,” he said. “That’s in the future, for future-you and future-me. I don’t know how it’ll end but I can promise you one thing: I’ll always be there for you. Arrangement or not.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you breathed out. “Right-now-me is a lucky bitch.”

You both laughed softly, then fell into a contemplative silence. There was something so peaceful about lying in bed with you, his hand loosely wrapped around your wrist, sharing warmth. He didn’t want to fall asleep.

For the next hour you talked about your families, your childhood, your friends, your likes and your dislikes. You told him about being an adopted child and living with other adopted kids. He could tell you were holding back when you talked about your siblings.

The only one you gushed about was Okoye. You were evasive when you talked about Scott and Wanda, though you did tell him that you had agreed to meet Wanda.

“What’s your favorite comfort food?”

“Breakfast for dinner.” Your voice was soft and small, he knew you were falling asleep. “When I was a kid, we had breakfast for dinner every Sunday night. We’d grab a bowl of our favourite cereal and eat together in front of the TV. I miss those days.” Your face was half buried in your pillow. “What’s yours?”

“Easy, pancakes.”

You smiled, your eyes were closed. “I like pancakes too.”

He watched you fall asleep and made a mental note to make some pancakes for breakfast. Your breathing evened out, and he waited a few more minutes to make sure you were asleep before he rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.

Bucky woke up to the sound of rain striking against the window. He opened his eyes and noted that the room seemed brighter than usual. A quick glance at the bedside clock told him that it was already a little past eight.

He stretched, sighing contentedly, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his closed fist. He tilted his head to look at you, still sleeping next to him. You lay on your stomach with your face turned away from him and your arms hugging your pillow. He adjusted the covers around your shoulders and stealthy slipped out of bed.

He went to the window and fixed the shades to make sure they didn’t let any light in. Then he made his way downstairs where he found Steve cracking eggs into a bowl. He was still wearing Bucky’s clothes, but his hair was a mess. Still he looked positively glowing.

“Mornin’,” Steve greeted with a wide smile.

“Hey, man.” Bucky took a seat at the kitchen island. “When did you get back?”

“About ten minutes ago. Long enough to notice that your angel hasn’t slept in her room last night. Wanna talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Bucky said with a shrug. “She didn’t want to be alone.”

“So you slept with her.”

“We slept in the same bed. Nuance.”

“I’m gonna nuance your face with my fist if you don’t talk to her soon,” Steve exclaimed. “She’s not going to stay single forever, Buck. Things are gonna change, one way or another.”

“I know.”

Steve set the bowl aside and held the edge of the counter behind him. He sighed, exasperated. “If I were you, I’d talk to her before something happens and takes your choices away from you.”

Bucky pinched his lips together, hard, and looked down at the counter. A muscle in his jaw jumped. “I- I don’t know how to talk to her,” he said, feeling tears gather in his eyes. He met Steve’s eyes. “I physically can’t talk to her. It hurts. It’s stuck here-” he aggressively grabbed his stomach “-all the time. And it hurts, Steve, you have no idea how painful it is.”

“That’s love,” Steve replied, smiling at him like he, too, knew how it felt.

“Well, it fucking sucks.”

Bucky wiped the back of his hand against his runny nose. Steve stood there in silence.

“This book I’m writing,” Bucky said, breaking the silence. “It’s about her. Just her.” He paused. “I can’t back down now, my publicist’s too invested in our story. I know it’s an eccentric way of telling someone you fell in love with them but... writing’s easier than talking.”

Steve nodded, his eyes glued to the floor. “It’s like a long love letter.”

“Something like that.” Bucky climbed off the stool and rounded the kitchen island. “Now, I’m going to make breakfast. I promised her pancakes.”

Steve smiled and watched him move around the kitchen. “I hope it works out for you, Bucky. I really do.”

Part 10

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #marvel imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites

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herstarburststories · 4 years ago

Text

you and me and the devil makes three.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x reader, Demon!Dean Winchester x reader, past Lisa x Dean

Summary: Dean is a demon, he will take whatever he wants.

A/N: This got darker than I expected. I wanna make it clear I don't condone or engage with Dean's acts on this. This is my submission for @jawritter 's Make Me Cry Challenge. Congrats, honey! Hope you like it. Dividers by talesmanic and gif credit here

Prompt: I guess I should have been more like her.

Warnings: non consensual kissing, language, UNHEALTHY BEHAVIOR, non con (kissing and touching but no sex), dirty talk

Dean Winchester was a dreamer.

In the rawest way of the word, the meaning in the dust-collecting dictionaries and not the idealistic form. His eyelids shut close and, just like magic, Dean’s head was as haunted as the home he swore he’d never come back to in Kansas. The ghosts of the past, not ever so very friendly, coming to greet him at least three times per week. Sometimes they were happy films he could never starre in real life, his mom singing or a picnic with a lover saying that they needed to hurry up to get their kid at the baseball. The nightmares were sleepy visions of flesh and blood, mostly about his time underneath, Sam hurting, or his father spilling out his worst fears at his face.

Maybe it was how the eldest Winchester’s brain compensated for the lack of bedtime tales and docile affairs growing up. The own way that his brittle soul discovered and molded not to let him collapse, or to always keep him on red alert.

Good and bad deals are mostly a matter of which side you are betting your money on, really.

Because yeah, Dean did wake up feeling like he had shut his forest eyes briefly for twenty minutes instead of hours when he dreamed, but he also had never spent so long trapped in a better place. The green eyed hunter didn’t know which one was worse: the good dreams or the horrific ones. After all, he had went through all the atrocity and made it out alive, but the engulfed craving for light-hearted scenarios was suffocating. The hunter could never have it all. Trust him, he tried. Then, which is more agonizing: to have everything you ever wanted for a couple hours and have every scrap of it taken from you, or to undergo the calamity that accompanied your breaking point?

Dean didn’t know, he didn’t even know what to tell Sam when he wondered what his brother had dreamt about to wake up sweating and screaming, all the light and stupid apple pie desires and the sharp brutality crawling out of the back of his mind. He made a joke, Megan Fox really liked knives, man. He kept it in, shoved down a good amount of alcohol, and mocked the worry of doing the lawn. Ready for another day.

But now he was a demon, and apparently whatever he was made of - sulfur, cruelty, and black eyes under garden ones - wasn't worthy quiet reliefs in the middle of the night, or even frightening figments of memory. He became his worst dreams and all the dreams slipped beyond his reaches because of that. Demons, those unholy creatures, didn’t get the human peculiarities. You know what? Fine by him.

Who needed dreams when you don't need sleep, anyway? Even better: who needed dreams when you don't care about what you gotta do to put your greedy hands on the prize you had been eyeing for years?

Dean Winchester was finally free. Free for the first time since he was a four years little boy who watched his mother burning with a terrorized expression, ironically mimicking the one Mary wore on the ceiling. His dad’s shouting for him to grab Sammy and run, take your little brother and run, echoing through years and years. There was never time for Dean, for his grief or his questions or whatever the child frozen in time under his rib cage could come up with. They said, stupid psychologists with their fancy degrees and malicious bartenders with a unfriendly grun under the counter who learned a little too much, everybody said that when someone was so traumatized as a kid, that person would tend to get frozen at that age. Therefore, how tremendously alleviating was to kill any reminiscing emotion of the whiny child he used to be.

The kind of freedom that no traveler longed for; when one’s ruined and damaged enough not to care, and just take and take and take like hunger itself. Dean was an evil thing now, what else could he do but act on the figments of the worst intentions?

And feel so fucking good when doing that.

‘’Where do you think he's going?’’ Your eyes raked over the street, darting between the asphalt under Baby’s wheels and Sam’s weary features.

‘’I don't know.’’ He sighed, attempting to organize his thoughts. Even as a demon, his brother wouldn’t just run miles and miles away by himself for no apparent reason. There had to be something you and Sam were missing out, some unseen clue or a hidden meaning. ‘’What the localizator says?’’

At least you had managed to put a tracker in his boots during your last encounter. Whatever Dean was thinking of starting there, you and Sam wouldn’t let him.

‘’Still Cicero, Indiana.’’ You sighed. Sammy furrowed his eyebrows, a long forgotten memory rising. ‘’What?’’

‘’We had a case there once years ago.’’ He explained, opting not to elaborate. Your and Dean’s relationship was troubled enough with his new self. Sam didn’t want to blow it up completely. His brother would need you once he came back to himself. The look on your face, though, reported how you weren’t buying his cheap excuses. The long haired hunter sighed. ‘’Did Dean ever tell you about that?’’

‘’No.’’

He stepped on the accelerator.

To find the woman was excruciatingly easy. The freckled demon couldn't believe he opened his computer many times and gave up before today. He glanced through the glass window and there she was, standing in all her glory with a body that seemed to forget how to grow old. Her tan skin still glowing, as appetizing as ever. Brown eyes shining so bright, tiny hands that always seemed to know where he wanted to be touched. She was laughing like there was no tomorrow, holding a glass of wine with one hand and her cellphone with the other, while her dark hair was falling so perfectly over her shoulder, like waves against the rocks in the sea.

Dean can’t wait to smell her again, to taste her, to prove her. His fingers were tingling, begging to touch what was his as he hopped off the car, walking towards the porch. He had been gone for a long time, but now he was back.

He will destroy that quintessential, sequin woman so good.

The Winchester buckled in front of the white door, graced with the sound of the female giggle. Thin walls, he thought, those will be useful to make sure the neighbors know who’s back home. Her steps on the wood floor growing closer and closer as he heard a goodbye, probably aimed at whoever she was on the phone with. It was almost like the caramel skinned woman knew that whoever was on her doorstep wasn’t gonna be a hustled visitor. Or so the demon’s arranged mind said.

‘’Hey, Lis.’’ Dean’s voice lacked any cherishment as she opened the door, who would know that the absence of a soul wouldn't be gelid, just dry? As for her, Lisa’s face was drained of love. For all she was aware of, he was a stranger who knew her name. The male let out a chuckle empty of joy. She really didn’t remember, huh? ‘’Whoa. Cass really fucked up your head, huh? At least he did one thing right.’’

‘’Excuse me?’’ The man with dirty blonde hair and perfect teeth smelled like alcohol. She wasn’t having any of this tonight. ‘’Listen, I don’t know who you are and--’’

‘’Don’t worry.’’ He tranquilized her, although the lopsided grin on his lips held anything but good intentions. ‘’I’ll make you remember. I have a spell. You won’t believe how much you missed me.’’

The mocking laugh that left her lips utterly aggravated him. ‘’I don’t know you. Please leave or I’ll call the police.’’

Dean didn’t need a crowd for that part, a bratty woman in need of a firm hand should get a particular lesson.

‘’You always liked a little cat and mouse.’’

Speaking of, the demon pushed the door wide open without any effort. Lisa jumped at the sudden move, every instinct inside her deciding that man was a threat and not some harmless wasted guy. Her body was quickly erect, thinking about ways to run and get help, but Dean swiftly pushed her to him and kicked the door closed-- her small figure collided to his chest.

Human savagery was cut in urban ways, molded to civilize the animalistic instincts. Imagine meat. A dead animal on a silver plate, and we couldn’t wait to chew every inch of it. We couldn’t wait to eat it, put that dead thing inside us and hope it’ll be enough to control the predatory hungry. Humans will always be animals, but so will be their rests that constructed the demons.

Dean may not be a hunter anymore, but he’s still a predator who can't wait to taste his prey. He could small it, the fear in Lisa’s sweat making his mouth water. How much she tried to fight against him and scream other names when his was the only one he wanted her to need tonight. The resistance of a poor human barely made the monster shiver.

He closed his hands around her arms, throwing her against the wall like someone tossed an old toy away. There was no space for delicaly. In that moment, Dean Winchester was a tiger, a lion, the big bad wolf attacking the omega. Lis winced, her back hurting as her fibers. She couldn’t believe this was happening, that man was about to do something so terrible and disgusting to her in her own house, the place she was supposed to feel warm and safe. Why did he seem to know her? Why did he say she was gonna remember? Was he crazy, hallucinating, or drugged? Why was he so satisfied with how frightened her tiny body looked? How could she use all that information to somehow push him away?

‘’Let me go!’’ She demanded, her legs kicking the demon with ferocity. ‘’What’s wrong with you? LET ME GO NOW!’’

The brunette’s skilled body moved itself desperately, and the act of resistance only brought a hysterical laugh out of Dean. The wrong kind of goosebumps washed her skin, she had to run away for her life. This man was mad.

‘’FIRE! FIRE!’’ Lisa started to scream. Well-aware that people were most likely to come around and help a woman screaming if she said fire. ‘’THERE’S A FIRE. SOMEONE HELP ME!’’

One of his hands went to her neck, wrapping his fingers around it to shut her up. That was rubbing him off the wrong way. Lisa Braeden used to beg for his touch, how dared her not to want him anymore? Now that he was better, stronger, and thicker.

The brown eyed girl went quiet, probably scared by his brutal behavior. Dean smiled, a blood stained grin that carried mischief and pervertment. He licked the tears savoring the salty horror coming from her. Just like the day he was a vampire who almost gave in to drinking every drop of her luptuos blood. She may not remember but he did and he couldn't wait to get inside her, those tight walls squeezing his hard cock.

‘’You’re gonna do as I say, Lis. And I won't hurt you… Much.’’ He risped, crooked nose stroking her wet cheek. She whined. ‘’Don’t worry, honey. You loved it. Bet you’ll scream so much once I fuck you good.’’

‘’Please, don’t do it.’’ She begged as he coaxed his body against his. That man was stronger than her, she had no other choice but to plead to his human side. If only she knew.

‘’Begging already?’’ Dean lifted his head, smirking at her. Lisa just wanted to cry and close her eyes until everything was done. How could someone do that? ‘’I told you, don’t worry. I’m gonna make a lil’ spell that will give your memories back and you’ll remember everything. And then we’re gonna have so much fun, Lis.’’

His last murmur was finished with a kiss. A harsh, ruthless kiss. Actually, she wasn’t even sure if she could call it a kiss; teeth against each other, his vicious mouth pressed to her weakened lips, his tongue invading her like a robber and showing an unrequited dominance.

‘’Dean!’’ Your voice resonated stridently, louder than the door Sam had stormed open. You couldn’t believe what your eyes witnessed. ‘’Stop it!’’

Dean groaned, as if you and Sam were stepping on his territory. He simply turned his head to you two, not pulling away from Lisa. You couldn’t see her face, your boyfriend’s large shoulder and tall body covering her up. His eyes were still green, which set the scene in an even more atrocious light.

Your thoughts were racing. How could he come to her, crave her so badly that he drove away miles and miles as a demon? He was supposed not to feel a thing. You prepared yourself for a cold man, not an obsessive one. Apparently, a heart hidden under the black smoke. Choose if it's a gift or Pandora's box. Sam told you their history. Of course he would want that and not you. Dean never left Lisa because he fell out of love for her, he was ripped out from her life. You were so pissed at yourself; how could you picture playing the woman in his veins? How stupid were you? He may be a demon guided by wants and not emotions, but what was love but an amount of outrageous desires laced up with some pretty words and flavored with dependency?

‘’Y/N and Sammy--’’

Love was the wrong word here. Anyway. Go head and unwrap it.

‘’Please help me!’’ Lisa’s voice came to life once more through her quiet cry. Dean hardened the hold around her throat, making her cough a little.

Suddenly, your body is frozen. That, whatever that is, whatever he’s doing to Lisa. It wasn’t love. She didn’t want it. When his frame moved to face you and Sam, you caught a glimpse of her face. She was petrified, her delicate features contorted in wrath and fear and beg for help.

‘’Quiet.’’ Dean howled, glancing at her rapidly before his eyes fell on you and Sam again. ‘’You two are such killjoys. I told you to let me go.’’

You couldn’t believe what you were witnessing. You wanted to puke your guts out.

‘’And what? Kill your ex? Or do something even worse to her?’’ You elicited with disgust.

‘’She’ll come around eventually. Just playing hard to get. You know how frisky women are.’’ The corner of his lips curved into a barbaric grim, one of his hands touching Lisa’s cheek. The victim winced at the touch. ‘’Besides, I’m not just gonna take her. I’ll make her remember and she’ll want me.’’ He shrugged, unbothered by the horrified looks of everyone in the room. ‘’Are you really worried about Lis, Y/N? Or are you just jealous that I didn’t go for you?’’

‘’Enough, Dean.’’ Sam groaned, holding the gun up. It felt oily. ‘’Let her go. And come with us.’’

The demon tossed the brunette away with a simple sleight of hand, pulling his sleeves up with a marred beam. His eyes switched from starry green to black, showing his true facette. It was a peculiar relief. It wasn’t Dean. It wasn’t Dean. It wasn’t Dean.

Yet, Dean’s gruff voice said in a twisted playful tone:

‘’Come get me, Sammy.’’

Dean Winchester was cured. For most people, to heal is to let go or to learn with things. In the doctor’s case, healing is leaving a bruise to cover up a wound. Everyone believed the war started and ended, and that was it. But when something so ravaging is gone, you gotta deal with the trauma.

He was a trauma. Cured from a sickness, drowning in sorrow and waves of woe. All the worst things Dean ever did, he knew now, weren’t to himself or to the monster he so proudly killed. His unspoken acts were against the people he cared about.

The hunter never thought his hands, his bruised and tough hands could ever hurt Lis. The woman who was his lifeline when Sam died, who allowed him to be a father and live in his dreamland of suburban life. All she ever did was to love him, and what did she get for it?

He was disgusted with himself. What almost did to her was enough to hunt him and make him sure he was going back to hell, very deserving this time. Threating to do that to a woman, and enjoy it… Dean couldn’t bear driving into memories. He was selfishly glad he didn’t remember about that, only Sam’s explanation was enough: he went to Lisa, he kissed her without her consent, and Sam and you stopped him going any further. Would his unscrupulous, demon self go ahead? He was too scared to wonder, even though his brother said that he apparently had a spell to make Lis remember and wasn’t planning on just taking her. A forced kiss was disgusting enough. He just wished Sam had put a bullet in his black eyes right there.

You walked in the bathroom that you once shared with the eldest Winchester

She was everything he ever wanted, all the suburban dreams and acceptance of hunter reality without being in it. Lisa loved him completely and you could only love him sideways-- you never wanted to be a mom, or to have a family or live in a suburb. Those were valid goals, just not yours. You thought you and Dean were on the same page about it, but this other side, not only the pervert demon but the domestic man, hadn’t been shown to you until a couple days ago. Sam had cured his brother, his dirty nature washed away with holy water, but you couldn’t help the bruises that came from the dog days. Lisa had her memory erased by Cass again, you didn’t have the same unfair luxury.

‘’Dean.’’ You said, making him look up at you. Bags under his eyes and wrinkles more evident than ever. ‘’We need to talk.’’

He sighed and wiped his face. ‘’Y/N, I don’t want to talk right now.’’

‘’You never do.’’ You scoffed, gaining an incredulous glance from him. ‘’I know that what happened was disgusting and sick and the worst thing you could ever do, but we need to talk.’’

He took a deep breath. ‘’What do you wanna talk about?’’

‘’You went to her.’’ You stated as a lawyer in front of a jury. Dean furrowed.

‘’What?’’

‘’Lisa. You went to her.’’ When the arrow hit someone so damaged, it was like an animal with his teeth there that wouldn't let go. Yeah, his human soul wasn't the same brittle glass as before but it lingered in his demon self in the shape of delusion, and it was distorted by whatever he was made of, violence and darkness, and turned into something disgusting. ‘’You love her.’’

‘’Love?’’ The word burned his tongue, Dean didn’t think he had the right to ever use it again. ‘’I was a demon, Y/N. I didn’t love or feel anything. What I did--’’

‘’You didn’t do anything.’’ You interrupted, loyal as a soldier.

‘’I forced a kiss on her and wanted to bring her memories back to have sex with her. That’s disgusting and I did half of that.’’ He pointed out aggitadly, plump lips moving fast and voice deeper. ‘’It wasn’t love. Leaving her years back was love.’’

You didn’t miss how Dean didn’t even dare to say her name. ‘’So you don’t think about her? Not even once?’’

He scoffed humourless. ‘’Are you kidding me?’’

‘’I guess I should have been more like her.’’ You hugged yourself, glancing at the wall. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not again, not for another woman. That wasn’t even your cicatrix to ache.

‘’Y/N, what the fuck are you talking about?’’ The fully green eyed man raised to his feet, glancing at you with disbelief. He couldn’t face how messed up it was. ‘’I can’t believe you are jealous of what happened. I thought I was the broken one here.’’

‘’I’m not her.’’ You two shared it, the glance that only two women who were hurt by the same man could. You both understood that when he got inside you, it was like the syringe in an eutanasia. Once you were happy because you loved him, now you were scared and not so sure this was what you wanted. ‘’I’m not her and you knew it. When you became just instincts and selfish and did whatever you wanted, you didn’t come to me. You came to her.’’

‘’I hurt her.’’

The next words fly out of your mouth, as weak and totaled as you felt: ‘’Why didn’t you hurt me?’’

‘’This is the most unhealthy shit we ever went through.’’ Dean’s right. You have her expression mesmerized on your brain. Dean was the man on top of her, teaching her how to hate. How to fear. You can’t trust yourself. ‘’I can’t believe you.’’

‘’Neither can I.’’ You were so sick. How ravaged and annihilated one had to be to wish to be a demon's object of obsession? To get jealous that another woman almost died in the arms of a beast that cried his blood out once he came back to being a man and saw what he had done? ‘’I hate it. I hate feeling like this. I was there and I saw how scared of you she was, how all she wanted was to push you away and run because she was so disgusted--’’

‘’Stop.’’ He groaned, but it came out more like a whine than anything. ‘’It wasn’t me. I would never hurt Lis. I would never force her to do anything! I--’’

You gave him a sad smile. ‘’You love her.’’

‘’I love you.’’ Dean approached you, fumbling in despair to fix yet another thing his hands destroyed. If Rome was built in ruins, he was a kingdom. You pulled away before his tough hands landed on you.

‘’But you love her too.’’ The hunter stopped on his spot, unable to answer. ‘’I ruined myself for you, Dean. I can’t-- I won’t do that again. You are right. This is unhealthy. The fact that you’ve been pining for her for so long, pushing down those feelings to the point they are twisted into something so cruel and disgusting. You need help.’’ What kind of ugly you have to have inside you for a monster to love you? And, even worse, what kind of sickness you have trapped, written in your blood to want it to be spilled out in his name? ‘’You really are venom. If this is how you love, it’s scary as fuck.’’ When you loved a broken man, you were never sure if his shattered pieces would glisten or cut your hand once the light came in. Here’s your answer. His parts crawled inside you through pulled up scars, scraping your insides to make into ruins, but you never liked Rome much. You had to be better than that. ‘’Goodbye, Dean.’’

He couldn’t bring himself to go after your steps.

Once again, it’s the kind of freedom no traveler wants. When you lost it all and didn't have any person or place to cling to, when you had to leave because you were becoming the girl you swore you’d never leave, when you walked away willingly without a map.

Still, it was all you had. You’d make a good use of it. You’d be okay. No more ugly emotions or sentiments that made you unrecognizable. No more knives that cut both ways, or situations so complicated you weren’t sure where your morals could rely on.

You’d be okay, healthy, and happy.

You’d be okay.

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Soulmarks, Part 12

First part

~~~

Tim was separated from the only two people in the country he knew within seconds of the lunch bell ringing.

Marinette had been called up by the teacher. Apparently, she was class president last year and she held the duties until the next election. She gave a tiny sigh as she released Tim’s hand and gave both him and Adrien kisses on the cheek before heading out with Mme. Bustier.

Adrien, at least, was still in the room. Unfortunately, though, he was completely surrounded by his classmates, who were all clamoring for pictures of his notes.

He crossed his arms over his chest awkwardly as he stood outside the door, waiting for either of his friends to appear.

The door swung open and out walked Lila.

Damn it, he’d held Marinette’s hand too long and her bad luck had rubbed off on him.

He sighed. “What do you want?”

She smiled sweetly at him, twirling a lock of her hair in her fingers. “I just wanted to show the new kid around some.”

“Wouldn’t that be Marinette’s job as class rep?”

Lila sighed and shook her head slowly. “Oh, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but… I wouldn’t get too close to Mari.”

He raised his eyebrows. A little late for that, but he supposed he may as well ask: “Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, she’s a bit of a bully.” She looked at the ground. “Did she ever tell you about all the times she tried to ‘prove’ that I wasn’t actually disabled? Just because she didn’t like me? We hadn’t even talked, she was just mad I was talking to Adrien!”

A frown made its way across his face. Sure, it wasn’t at all like the Marinette he knew, but how well did he know her? He’d never seen how she interacted with people she didn’t like… and hadn’t he seen just how ruthless she could be when she wanted to that first day with ‘bowling’? In the way her expression hardened when Joker or Harley were mentioned?

He leaned against the wall. “There are other things?”

Lila’s head jerked up in surprise. “Huh?”

“You said ‘for one thing’. That implies more.”

“You’d think bullying would be enough…” Said Lila with a frown, but she continued: “Secondly, I think she’s a gold digger.”

His mind wandered to the few times Bruce had tried to buy something for her. How she’d ended up hiding money around for him to find so he couldn’t force it back into her hands. He gave a soft laugh. No, he wasn’t concerned about that. “Well, I can say she isn’t.”

Besides, if anyone here was a gold digger, it was probably Lila. Her eyes had lit up at the Wayne name. Projecting much?

She didn't seem all that convinced. “I just think it’s a little suspicious that she goes after you, Kagami, and Adrien. The girl has a pattern, and it’s money.”

He snickered. “Okay, and what about Chloe Bourgeois?”

“Chloe?” Said Lila slowly. “How do you know about Chloe?”

He frowned. “She’s in our class, right?”

“Well, yes, but they don’t talk or anything. How’d you know about her?”

“Simple: I’m her soulmate.”

Lila blanked. There was a few moments where she apparently rebooted, and then she scoffed. “Are you sure about that? Marinette likes to lie. A lot.”

“Pretty sure. Unless you know some other designers, who live in France, who bakes a lot, who carries a yoyo in their pocket, who also happens to love her parents.”

She finally stopped twirling her hair, shoving her hands in her pockets as she mulled this over. “Congrats on finding your soulmate,” she said in the same begrudging tone that siblings use when their parents make them apologize to each other. “But…”

“But…?”

Lila leaned forward conspiratorially. “I think she might be working for Hawkmoth.”

Don’t. Laugh.

He shook his head, pursing his lips together tightly to stop himself from laughing. When he was sure that he could keep a straight face, he mumbled a “yeah, no.”

She shrugged. “Don’t believe me? She disappears during every akuma and she’s never been akumatized. I’m telling you, she’s working with him!”

He couldn’t help it anymore, he snickered. Sure, the girl had gathered some pretty good evidence, but she’d come to the complete wrong conclusion. Before he could really come up with a reason for why he was so convinced that she couldn’t be working with him, he spotted Marinette running back to the classroom.

Tim watched her eyes narrow when she spotted Lila and raised his eyebrows. Sure, three out of four of Lila’s points were wrong, but the first one still concerned him.

Marinette gave a forced smile as she came to a stop beside him. “Ready for your tour? I even got special permission to take you out of school for lunch today,” she chirped, holding up two tiny slips of paper.

He smiled faintly. “How’d you manage that?”

“I let it slip to the principal that I was showing around Tim Drake-Wayne. They practically begged me to keep the school food away from you.” She winked, then her eyes found their way to Lila. Her smile lessened. “Lunch is almost over for you, Lila, you should get something to eat. What with your weak immune system and all, we wouldn’t want you to get sick, would we?”

He narrowed his eyes slightly and glanced at Lila, who sighed like this was a regular occurrence.

“Fine, Mari, I’ll leave. I know when I’m not wanted.” She leaned up and kissed Tim on the cheek before he could really react. “A presto,” she said, sending a grin over her shoulder as she walked off.

He gave a tiny wave and then glanced at Marinette.

“You’re crumpling the papers.”

She snapped out of it and frowned, looking down at the passes. She loosened her grip and started smoothing them out with her fingers. “Right. Sorry. Let’s go.”

She should have warned him about Lila. She had no clue what the liar had said about her, but it clearly was affecting Tim. Earlier he’d been holding her hand and now he would barely even look her in the eyes.

She stared at the empty cup of coffee in front of her as they waited for the waiter to come back with their food in silence.

A tiny part of her was tempted to just let Lila have him. She’d managed to get everyone else, had picked off all her friends one by one. Even Adrien would usually eat with Nino. At this point, she was starting to think it would be easier to just let go of the hope that she could really have friends while she lived in Paris. It would certainly feel better than grasping onto him desperately only to lose him…

She pulled her yoyo from her pocket and started messing with it.

One attempt. She’d give herself one attempt.

“What did she tell you?”

He looked at her. Finally.

“She obviously told you something. What was it?”

He finished off his coffee and set down his cup. “She said you’re a bully.”

“Well, she’s a compulsive liar.”

“She said the same about you.”

She cursed as her yoyo tangled itself and started fixing the string. “And you’re going to believe her over me?”

He reached across the table and gently pulled the yoyo from her fingers and started working the knots out. “Normally, I wouldn’t, but…” He sighed lightly. “Would she really have a reason to fake an illness?”

Marinette blinked, then shook her head. “That wasn’t the first lie I figured out. The first one was --.” She cut herself off and gave the waiter an awkward smile as he set down a plate of waffles.

The teens mumbled their thanks and he left.

She switched to English for her next sentence: “She lied about being friends with Ladybug.”

He raised his eyebrows.

She frowned. He didn’t trust her. Great. She had proof, at least. She scrolled through the Ladyblog for a while before handing over the video of Lila claiming to be Ladybug’s best friend.

“So... she lied once to seem cool to her new classmates and you decided that was enough to never trust her again?”

She wanted to kick something. Seriously? She pulled her yoyo back from him and started pulling on the string as hard as she could. She needed her yoyo back. She needed to calm down. She needed --.

Her eyes spotted a black and purple speck on the horizon and she squeaked.

Fuck. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t get akumatized. She wouldn’t be able to fix things if she was akumatized. She couldn’t let someone die because of her --.

Tim followed her gaze and cursed quietly. “Listen, Nette, I’m sorry! I believe you!”

“I’m not stupid, Tim! I know you’re just saying that!” She hissed.

Angry tears formed behind her eyes. All the emotions she’d been holding back since Hawkmoth had begun his reign of terror were threatening to fall through and she couldn’t let that happen. God, she was feeling so much and she couldn’t handle it and she couldn’t allow herself to even try and someone was letting the akuma in and --.

She shut down.

Her emotions went from feeling like they were suffocating her to being practically nonexistent. She sunk in her seat, barely even paying attention to all the people scrambling for cover as fast as they could. She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything at all.

The akuma paused inches away from her yoyo and she watched with a blank face as it slowly turned around and fluttered out the way it had come.

“Nette?” Said Tim quietly, his eyes not leaving the akuma.

She closed her eyes.

One attempt, she told herself. One last attempt.

“I’ll admit, I definitely didn’t like that Lila was getting close to Adrien and it made me more bitter and skeptical about everything she said than I should have been… but I still caught her in actual lies. About who she knows, about the things she’s done, about her illnesses, about everything. And I called her out on it every time, it’s why she’s so determined to keep everyone away from me. With more lies, of course, but they always have just enough truth that everyone believes her and nothing I do ever seems to be enough to convince them.”

Tim said nothing for a moment…

And then she felt his hand rest over hers.

“I believe you… but --.”

She groaned. “Great. I tried. Want a tour before we stop talking to each other forever?”

“Not like that. I’m just saying… for all of her lies, she was projecting: bullying, gold digging, lying…”

She nodded slightly. “Sure. So?”

“She also accused you of working for Hawkmoth.”

Her eyes snapped open.

~~~

Next part

“I can’t wait to see what Lila does”

Me, staring at my outline, which just says “Lila but better but also stupid”: yeah me too buddy

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@pawsitivelymiraculous @golden-promises @salty-fang @kitsunebell @sassakitty @octobitch @glastwime859 @miyla-lokidottir @onlyabatfan @ira-sairain @2confused-2doanything @ultimatetornshipper @ladybug-182 @laurcad123 @we-want-mini-mini @roguishredaxion @just-reblogs-by-h @futursworld @magic-miraculous @nathleigh @smolplantmum @vroomtaka @emimar7 @toodaloo-kangaroo @charme-de-malchan @spicybelladonna @fusser90 @indecisive-mess-named-me

#timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin #tim drake #soulmarks #maribat #adribat

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shoichee · 4 years ago

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Hello❤️❤️❤️ congrats with 100 followers🥳🥳🥳 hope the audience will expand😍 and can I repeat myself again? I love your works😍

So, can I request 5 with Himuro?

hihihihihi!! ty sm for your support squeeeeee, sure you can repeat again, think of it as a thank you for being there since the beginning <333 i actually have so much requests now it’s kind of crazy!

Himuro x Reader

5. “Well. Yell, scream, say something. Anything”

Word Count: 2255

prompt list here

TW: attempted assault and stalking, nothing graphic, but these are the main subjects for this scenario, so PLEASE PLEASE take care of yourself first if these topics trigger you and avoid them!

»»—————　☼　—————««

Himuro felt helpless.

The Winter Cup that year when Seirin rightfully won was over months ago, but even still, there is still a part of him that gnaws at him from the inside of his consciousness. Ever since he failed to stop Haizaki from making unwanted advances on his mentor.

No matter how much Alex assured him that it wasn’t a big deal, no matter how easily she shrugged the incident off, there is still a festering guilt that eats him away at how useless he was in protecting the people he cared about. He couldn’t even protect Kagami as an “elder brother,” and he couldn’t even protect Alex as a “male” against another male. Still, no matter how much he chastises himself for having such immature thoughts, they’ve continued to overstay their welcome. What kind of traits does an “elder brother” or a capable “male” even entail?

Someone who wouldn’t be beaten and swatted like a fly…

Someone who wouldn’t just sit idly by when someone is being wronged…

Someone who wouldn’t hesitate to fight back to protect someone, even despite the consequences…

But if that’s the case… that’s just the definition of a person with human decency, isn’t it? Yes, perhaps that is why he still mulls over the encounter to this day. First he split off his brotherhood with Kagami over a one-track goal of an equal rivalry, and then he talked down to his mentor before his Winter Cup game that evening… In the end, he was absolutely pathetic, losing to Kagami’s inborn talent and getting beat down while watching his teacher getting harassed and choked. He easily accepted the fact that Kagami surpassed him with his basketball… The latter? Not so much.

He hasn’t really talked about his inner turmoil with anyone. Atsushi is someone who would not care too much about the complex emotions that he’s currently harboring, much less help deal with them. His other teammates are graduating and too occupied with final exams. He could speak with Alex, but by now, she’s moved back to America, and a part of him doesn’t want to call her out of his self-consciousness and humiliation. You?… He could confide his troubles with you… but a part of him whispers that you’d think less of him if you knew how incapable he really was.

After all, if he couldn’t even protect you as your boyfriend… no, he’d rather not go too far into that thought.

He smiles at the thought of you openly complimenting everything of him every time he subconsciously downplays himself, whether it was his basketball skills or his looks or even his habits. He always thought about how cute you were when you always made exaggerated hand movements to express your sincerity when you shower him with compliments, even if he always told you that you never had to go that far in saying such things. (You always insisted that they’re true and he was the best boyfriend anyone could ask for anyways.)

To someone like Himuro who had always hid their inferiority complex and other entangling insecurities behind a mask of a genial smile, your words always reassured him that he wasn’t treating you horribly or neglecting you or just being downright selfish. Just like what happened with Kagami. Just like what happened with Alex. He just hopes he doesn’t fuck this up somehow with you too.

He had always apologized for how he couldn’t spend as much time with you as he wanted to; basketball practice doesn’t spare anyone, after all. Still, you would smack his arm and push him to the gym as you scolded him to focus on what he loved to do best. Ah, he really didn’t deserve you… how you were so understanding he would never know.

But dusk fell at another early-February weekday; it was still quite chilly, cold enough to see his own puffs of warm exhales. His hands are cold, but the rest of his body burns from running laps and repeating shooting drills moments earlier. His ears grow hotter still when he remembers that you two had planned a simple outing near the coffee shop around the corner.

“Atsushi!” Himuro turns back to call out to the center player. “I need to be going now.”

“Hmph,” Murasakibara huffs in reply. “I was gonna ask you to take me to that new booth to try out new samples.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughs, noting the faint mist escaping his lips. “I’ll take you there next time, Atsushi. I have a date planned with (y/n)-san right now.”

“Tch, I’m leaving before you get too mushy on me. Buh-bye~” the giant drawls, casually strolling down the opposite path. Himuro manages to hold back a mild snort before he makes his way to head to the shop you two agreed to meet up at. Propping up his phone to look for your name to send a text, his eyes widen as he registers your name popping up on his screen as an incoming call. What a coincidence. You must’ve been anticipating this too. He smiles as he envisioned your anticipation at the table before he picks up on your call.

“Tatsuya?…” your voice rang.

“(y/n)-san,” he teased. “I didn’t think of you as an impatient person. Can’t wait to see me?”

“Yeah,” you said, but something about your voice was overly cheerful.

“Don’t worry,” Himuro hummed. “I’ll be there really soon. Give me 5 minutes.” He assumed it was just your excitement taking over that made you sound different than usual. He was about to hang up before you spoke again.

“A-Anywho!” you say. “How was practice, Tatsuya?”

“Hmm, the same it has always been,” he replies. “Just drills and laps before running a few practice games. Why do you ask?”

“No reason! C-Can’t I check up on you sometimes?”

“Of course you can, (y/n)-san,” he reassures you. There was a silence from your end, but he can hear how your breaths quickened over the line. He then registered some footsteps and maneuvers on the concrete and furrowed his brows in mild confusion. “… Hey, is there something wrong?”

“A-Ah yes! I’m at the laundromat right a-around the corner!” Your voice slightly peaks at the end. “Y-Yeah, yeah! I can’t wait to… s-see you soon! Uh, huh, m-mhm! You’re near right now, right? Yeah! You-you’re almost there!…” By now, your voice has taken on an almost hysterical tone.

“(y/n)?… (y/n)!” he half-shouts into his phone. “(y/n)! Can you still hear me! Where are you?!… Laundromat, right?” He breaks into a brisk run, ignoring the disapproving stares of other pedestrians on the sidewalk.

“I-I-I’m near the alley adjacent to the laundromat!… Yeah! C-Can’t wait to see you! O-Oh, don’t forget… um, to bring your wallet. S-Silly, you always forget to bring money, so… s-so…” You completely break your facade with a faint voice crack and a sniffle at the end. “Please… please hurry…”

Himuro pushes himself to a full sprint, completely disregarding etiquette as he pushes a few people to the side. His cold hands struggle to cease from shaking as he clutches his phone harder, as if he was holding onto you for dear life. Something terrible might happen to you, and if something happened to you on his watch…

Please, please, please, fucking god, please—please make it on time—

He grits his teeth and screams at his legs to move faster when he hears a stifled sob and a cry from your end.

“A-ah please…” you whisper. “They’re coming—they’re, Himuro, I don’t know where to ru—” All he heard after was a terrified scream before the line cut off.

Fuck, hurry up, hurry the fuck up—

———

Your phone was completely shattered on the floor, and you swore you had a few broken shards embedded in your skin somewhere from the harsh impact. That didn’t matter though. Not when there were two men grabbing you and trying to muffle your cries for help.

You try to use your elbow to hit their weakest parts, their joints, to loosen their grip. It worked, but as soon as you took a few steps, the other just tackled you to the floor to completely immobilize you.

You screamed, you kicked, you slapped, you elbowed, you punched, you flailed, but nothing seemed effective against two bodies, twice the size and twice the strength of your own.

You pitifully wail as a last desperate attempt, but in the quiet corner of the neighborhood, nobody seems to heed your cries for help. The sun had completely set by now, the year still experiencing the darkness of a winter night; by now, most are already at home relaxing. Their weight on your body was suffocating and you don’t know whether the pain was from the rough concrete, the shards, their weight, or all of the above.

You register them heaving you up with a firm hold on you still and shoving you to walk to the nearest vehicle they owned, and your legs are absolutely trembling from the shallow wounds you accumulated from the roughing and from the fear of the uncertainty of what would happen to you.

———

When Himuro lays eyes on your roughed-up state and the two men restraining you, all his fury and guilt and fear comes rushing back from his encounter with Haizaki.

He is not a rational man right now. He is not thinking of being the “bigger person.” He is not thinking about being a model athlete nor proper sportsmanship nor disqualification. There are no such thoughts of consequences, not when your life is being jeopardized.

He does not fucking care that he looks like the aggressor when he throws a left hook at the first man. He does not fucking care that the second man looks like his shoulder got dislocated. For once, he does not fucking care how his violent actions might cost him his prospective basketball career.

When he pulls your trembling body into his arms and feels how warm you are against his body in the night chills of an early-February weekday, he breathes out a long cloud of air, slowly calming himself as he hugs you more firmly against his side and pulls up to dial the local police.

He feels a slight sense of relief when he can feel you instinctively snuggling into his side for solace.

———

The local officers immediately got the gist once they saw the scene of two sprawled men, a terrified you, and a protective Himuro. After checking the nearby CTE cameras, their suspicions were confirmed. They still ask Himuro a few basic questions before they haul them off to the station; Himuro mostly answers for you.

Once the quiet fills the neighborhood again, you release a shuddering breath; Himuro knows because he can see your own mist from the corner of his eye. Still, you haven’t spoken a word since then.

“(y/n)…” he murmurs, bending down to your level to survey the scratches and bruises on your body before he hesitantly looks at your eyes. “Well… yell, scream, say something—anything… please.”

“… Can you… hug me again?”

“… Of course.”

And you both embrace tightly, Himuro tucking your head into his chest as you nuzzle as much as you could into his body.

“… Did they do anything to you?”

“They roughed me up and all, but… thank god you came…”

“They still put their hands on you—I couldn’t protect you—”

“… Why do you look so much more distraught than me, Tatsuya?”

“Because, I—I can’t do anything for the people I love and care about, and I… never mind, do you… want me to walk you home?”

“Wait, Tatsuya…” you whispered. “Let’s talk for a bit, please talk to me.”

“Our date—”

“Which we can always reschedule,” you said, bringing Himuro’s head down to nuzzle against your shoulders.

“If I was there faster—if I was there, this wouldn’t have…”

“Because you were there,” you corrected him. “I am able to experience another day, another tomorrow… especially by your side, where I’m happiest.”

“You must’ve been so scared—damn it, I—”

“Yeah… I’m still shaken up from that, to be honest,” you sighed. “I’m… just a bit paranoid about being alone in the dark now, but you saved me from the worst case scenario—Tatsuya, what’s wrong?! Are you crying—?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, quickly separating from you to rub his stray tears away before attempting to smile. “I should be the one comforting you, not the other way around. Please don’t mind me.”

“Oh silly,” you mused. “I’m dating you too. I want to be able to protect and care for you in my own way, too.”

“It’s getting dark, though. We should really start walking.”

“And we can talk while we do. I demand you to snuggle while we walk, too.”

“Haha… how could I ever say no to you, (y/n)?” He feels that gnawing sense of guilt and patheticness rearing up its head again, but when he looks at your earnest eyes even despite what transpired a few moments ago, the fact that you were safe and in his arms was more than enough to quell those feelings away.

In the lulls of a chilly early-February night, Himuro wraps a comforting arm over your figure as he draws a shuddering breath before he hesitantly begins. You look up at his face expectantly to show that you were giving him undivided attention as encouragement.

“It was during the Winter Cup a few months ago…”

———

End Note: being stalked by a dude in a CAR was NOT FUN. IT WAS NOT A FUN TIME !! 😭 unlike this y/n here, I had no one to “call” and pretend that I was meeting up with them because my walk route home comprised of only houses and streets, so that was something else OOF I was thinking of the worst case scenarios at the time;;;

#submission #kagummypack #knb #knb scenarios #kuroko no basket #himuro tatsuya #knb himuro #himuro x reader #himuro tatsuya x reader #knb fics #knb x reader #100 followers #100 follower milestone

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hannie-dul-set · 4 years ago

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who in svt would agree to back you up in a fight

we're talking about fist fights here, folks. blood, bruises, bones cracking, men crying. the works. if this was an argument things would go different. remember that some of our boys are himbos and would start malfunctioning during a verbal face off. please be considerate.

seungcheol: the first thing he would would do is ask why the FUCK are you getting into a fight?? are you crazy?? you could get HURT jesus christ kids these days (that's the point, cheol) even though he reprimanded you, he'd still show up to pummel your opponents with one arm only. how DARE they try to fight you what kind of savages. super cheol to the rescue <3 | rating: 9/10 because your ears will fall off from his scolding afterwards.

jeonghan: with how sly and sneaky this bastard is, you might think it would be a good idea to get him as your backup. an instant win, you won't even lift a finger. but no. he'd say sure let's go punch some dick or whatever but oh god your blood runs cold because fuck. he didn't show up. will only help if you agree to become his lifelong slave but uh, is it worth it? | rating: 4/10 because making deals with the devil is only a good idea if you're stupid and/ or a lunatic.

joshua: will show up, no doubts about that. shua is a man of his words. but then when you actually start fighting you immediately regret your decisions because apparently his muscles are only for show, not for use. these babies are for flexing not hurting smh. you end up losing because the only thing pretty boy knows how to do is stand there like a fucking dumbass joshua we had our hopes up, dammit | rating: 3/10 cause hey, at least he's nice to look at.

junhui: lmao did you think he'd answer you if you call him for help? did you really think he knows how to answer his phone? you'd be in the middle of fighting, desperately calling him for him because you're about to die, but oops junhui's busy playing kartrider, try again later. dude will ghost you until the day after the fight and he sees your broken nose, black eye and he'd ask "damn, had a rough night?" and you weren't able to stop yourself from jumping at him | rating: 0/10 the only thing you're getting from him is anger.

soonyoung: oh man he is DOWN for a fucking fight. he doesn't need a reason why. the moment you say "hey soon, i'm abt to get into a fight and—" "FIGHT?? COUNT ME IN" he has a taekwondo blackbelt, and you're SURE you're gonna win oh man. but when he shows up you're like yes baby but then you squint a little. hearing the shouts from behind him and you're like fuck. he brought a fucking mob. | rating: not sure how to rate this because the small 2v2 fight you planned turned into an underground fighting ring. oops.

wonwoo: all it takes for wonwoo to swoop in to the rescue is if you mention that you're in danger. he'd arrive mid battle, realizing that you had planned this entire thing and he's mad. he'd still beat them up for you, obviously. breadstick wonwoo is no more. the only downside is that after he's done with your opponents, he'd also bet you up because you're a fucking dumbass | rating: 7/10 because yes you won, but you also won a trip to the hospital (you deserve it, says wonwoo).

jihoon: one of your best bets. but only if he's not busy. i mean, do i even have to elaborate??? to explain?? one look at his tiny, compressed body building baby frame you'd be running. fuck that shit, i ain't signing up for an early acces to death— your opponents. "fight them, hoonie" "but they're already running away" "fight them" he sighs and he's like did you just arrange this to watch me fight someone and you're like yes precisely | rating: 10/10 plus bonus points for entertainment value.

minghao: first of all, why would you even ask him? minghao is a busy man, do you think he has time for childish fights? pathetic. he may be a martial arts king but these alley fights are horrid. you could have at least made an effort to actually sign up to an illegal fighting club. he'd ignore all your calls, leave all your messaged on read, and let you get beat up. he'd ask you the next day "so how was the fight?" and you're like fuck off | rating: 1/10 one point because minghao.

mingyu: well. uh. this one is a complicated case. he has the physical capabilities to win a fist fight. this is mingyu we're talking about. but he's nervous. he's scared. he only agreed because he can't just leave you to fend off for yourself alone awh. the fight starts, the other guy attempts a right hook to his face and mingyu PANICS and OH MY GOD he's fallen to the floor— dragging you with him. he's trying his best he really is and somehow you win the fight, but you end up just as battered, or even worse than your opponents | rating: -7/10 he did more harm than good rip.

seokmin: the fuck he can't hurt an ant why the fuck would you want him involved in a fight what is wrong with you. but this is sweet seokmin, he'd still show up if you ask. NOT to participate, of course. he'll be your own cute cheerleader and maybe nurse later on if you end up getting destroyed. "NOOO Y/N GET BACK UP YOU CAN DO IT" "YES TO THE RIGHT THAT'S IT!!" he'd cry whenever you got hit, and the end results looks he was the one who got in the fight instead of you | rating: 5/10 because he gave you a hello kitty band aid afterwards.

seungkwan: he would FREAK OUT because jesus christ you're getting into a fight?? UNPREPARED??? wow you're unbelievable. he'd agree to help you, of course with equal compensation. the day of the fight comes and you're face to face with your opponent. kwan was taking a while to show up and you were starting to get worried but then he pulls up with am entire fucking posse of big scary men and you're like oh my fucking god. insant win. rating: 8/10 because the emotional trauma wasn't worth the victory.

vernon: nonie is a pacifist. no fighting!! no violence!! why would you want to fight, that's not good :( he doesn't want you to fight and holy fuck, sudden turn of events, he manages to CONVINCE you not to. and so you don't show up to the place, and your opponents got angry and stormed to find you but oh?? he managed to convince them to stop as well??? wow you go vernon show them to the path of righteousness | rating: 100/10 vernon is the peace fairy we all need.

chan: "fight??? did you say fight??? oh my god PLEASE tell me there's a fight let me fucking FIGHT" chan has been waiting for this moment oh my god. the day that he'd be able to release his pent up frustrations from because of his hyungs. he's unhinged. unstoppable. oh my god what have you done you've just caused an irreversible awakening. please tell me you have the money for a bail and for a funeral because those guys aren't coming out alive | rating: 10/10 you won. yeah you did. congrats. the next problem is how to hide a dead body.

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a-solitary-marshmallow · 5 years ago

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Do No Harm Take No Shit Chapter 5 - Home(room) Coming

They discussed how best to break the news to everyone, while feeding each other ice cream. (call Adrien a sap, he didn’t care, this was the best day of his fucking life) It seemed a bit obtrusive to walk into class and announce, ‘Hello Marinette is my girlfriend now, any questions?’

On the other hand, Lila would probably take advantage of any ambiguity. Not to mention Adrien’s fans – they would throw a tantrum when he and Marinette went public.

In the end, the simple approach was taken. Adrien took a selfie of them sharing their couples’ cone, one in which Marinette’s face was scrunched up adorably as he dabbed strawberry ice cream on the tip of her nose. Her hair was out and tumbling in the breeze, slapping Adrien on the cheek while he laughed and held the camera up blindly. It was his favourite shot – he was almost loathe to share it with the world. A quick caption. Magical ice cream with my magical girlfriend – best day of my life. Adrien posted it on Monday morning while the Gorilla drove them to school.

“Aaaaand… done.” He leaned his head against Marinette’s shoulder and watched the comments start to filter in.

“That was fast.” Marinette said.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’ve got a few stalkers on here.”

“You don’t say.” She teased.

Paris flashed by, and then they had arrived. They walked into the school hand in hand – Marinette’s hand was an honour Adrien held with pride. In the hallway Mylène glanced at them, glanced away casually, and then her gaze snapped back, accompanied by unashamed jaw-dropping. She elbowed Ivan, who looked around and blinked at the two, before grinning excitedly. They started to whisper between themselves. Adrien stifled a laugh.

“So,” He murmured as they walked, “How many people know about your huge crush on me, exactly?”

Marinette groaned. “No.”

“Because if Alya and Nino were shipping us…”

“Please, there are too many names to remember. You are the one person who didn’t know.”

“Was everyone on team Marinette-Adrien?”

“Adrienette.”

“What?”

Marinette looked away, face blushing a lovely shade of red. “Nothing.”

Adrien hummed and swung their joined hands. After a moment, Marinette gathered her courage and spoke again.

“Most people were on the team. Except for Chloe, of course.”

“Chloe’s always the exception.” Adrien noted.

They stepped inside the class, and Rose began to squeal. Adrien jumped at the pitch of it – all eyes were on them suddenly. He smiled nervously at the wide-mouthed stares.

“Uh, hi?”

“Congratulations!” Rose squealed. She rushed down from her chair to hug Marinette and Adrien in turn, swiftly followed by a grinning Alya who slung an arm around her best friend’s shoulder.

“Mari! Why didn’t you say something earlier? Congrats you two!”

The class was loud with cheers and excited voices. Kim laughed from his seat, “Adrien, bro! We thought you were gonna be oblivious forever.”

“Well, what can I say?” Adrien shrugged, fingers still tangled with Marinette’s. “I saw the light.”

“Oh, this is wonderful!” Rose cried. She glanced back to the very stiff figure sitting at her desk, “Lila, I told you they would figure it out!”

“Yes, you did.” Lila’s voice dripped with saccharine contempt. Adrien could feel her glare drilling into him from across the classroom. He suppressed the animalistic urge to bristle and hiss, instead sending a sweet smile towards the teeth-gritting girl. ‘Look out. You have no idea who you’re messing with.’

“So, when did this happen?” Alya urged. Marinette shrugged.

“This weekend. We went out, and talked, and… well.” She slightly lifted their joined hands, and the girls cooed. Marinette’s cheeks were flushed with happiness – even Lila’s presence didn’t seem to impact her. Adrien wished she could be this happy all the time. Damn it if he wasn’t going to try and make it so. “I’m expecting some rabid fangirl lashback though.”

Alya crinkled her nose. “Ew. Don’t worry Mari, we’ve got your back.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“Soooo,” Alya leaned in towards the new couple, “I was wondering, would you guys object to a slight seat change today? I really want to sit next to my boyfriend, and – gosh – that leaves you two together in the front row!”

“Real smooth, Alya.” Alix elbowed her with a snort. Marinette laughed.

“I’d like that. Adrien?”

“Definitely.” He said fervently.

“Oh, and do you guys want to have lunch at my house?” Marinette offered Nino and Alya. Nino sighed happily.

“Ah, Dupain-Cheng pastries. It’s been too long.”

“So that’s a yes.” Alya clarified.

The classes went quickly, with Marinette by Adrien’s side. When she was waiting for the other students to finish up with their note taking, she would doodle in the corners of her sketchbook. Adrien picked up her pen to draw a little love heart on her cast. She returned the favour on the back of his hand. At lunch time he, Marinette, Alya and Nino met outside the classroom to walk to Marinette’s house. They were about to start off when a voice called out.

“Oh! Would you mind if I joined you?” Lila’s sickeningly sweet cry made Adrien stiffen. Marinette bit her lip, hard, as Alya and Nino turned to see the brunette hurrying over. Alya tipped her head with a confused smile.

“Of course, girl, but I thought you were busy? You said you were having lunch with… a special someone?” Alya pointed surreptitiously to her earrings. Lila sighed, an impressive show of disappointment.

“Oh, I was so looking forward to having lunch together, but she had to cancel! Her partner got into trouble and she had to go and bail him out again. Honestly, cats can be so troublesome can’t they?”

Oh. Cats, earrings. Was Lila really talking about Ladybug? Having lunch with Ladybug? Not only was that an incredibly stupid thing to brag about, given the whole being-targeted-by-a-supervillain thing, but Lila had picked the wrong people to boast to. Adrien was almost ready to give her a cataclysm to the face.

But he wasn’t suited up right now, and Alya had already invited Lila along with a smile and a reassurance that she was sure it wasn’t personal, Lila’s bestie was a very busy person after all. A quick glance at Marinette’s uninjured arm revealed the way her fists were clenched. Adrien threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed her hand. I know. It’s bullshit.

“Are you guys coming?” Nino called from up ahead. The others had already started off. Adrien pasted on his model smile.

“Yep! We’ll catch up to you in a sec.”

“Adrien.” Marinette whispered. He turned to her, allowed his smile to drop into a scowl that mirrored hers. “I don’t want Lila in my house.”

He shuddered. “Ugh, I know, I’ve already had that experience. She’s creepy.”

“No, you don’t understand.” She whispered desperately. “Lila hates me. What if she gets her hands on something important? What if she finds the miracle box? Or lies to my parents? Or spills paint on my ball gown commission? She knows I’m being commissioned by Clara Nightingale, she asked Alya about it the other day. I’ve been working on it for weeks, if she ruins it I’ll have to start again and buy all the fabrics with my own money and the bakery will go broke and Maman and Papa will have to sell and I’ll never get a job in fashion and I’ll live on the streets and get stabbed in a mugging and-”

Adrien squeezed her hand, and Marinette trailed off.

“It’ll be fine.” He promised. “We won’t go to your house.”

Marinette looked up at him with such desperation, that Adrien felt his heart break. Had he really made her feel like this? That no one was here for her? Adrien lifted her hand to kiss it before turning to call after the three students on the footpath ahead of them.

“Guys, hold up! Marinette forgot about a huge order her parents have at the bakery, if we go there we’ll just be in the way. There’s a cool café down the road we can go to instead.”

Lila’s eyes widened like a kicked puppy’s. “I-I don’t have any money with me, I gave it all to Prince’s Ali’s charity for disabled orphans.” She put on a pained smile. “It’s okay, though. I don’t need to get anything – my diabetes won’t be a huge problem if I skip a meal or two. It’s enough to just spend time with my favourite people.”

Alya ‘awww’ed and slung an arm around Lila’s shoulder. “Mari, are you sure we can’t just stop by your place? Your folks have plenty of food they don’t sell, right?”

Marinette squeaked. Adrien spoke over her smoothly. “Don’t worry, Lila! I’ll pay for your lunch. It’s the least I can do, after how good you are to those disabled orphans.”

He could feel Lila’s glare, and it was hilarious. She said sweetly, “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly take your money!”

“I’m literally rich. Besides, wouldn’t it be the same if you took Marinette’s food?” He smiled at the fuming girl. “Please, let me treat you. I’d do the same for any friend.”

He was really laying it on thick now, he could tell from Marinette’s stifled giggle. At Lila’s side, however, Alya hadn’t picked up on the passive aggressive note. She was beaming as she linked arms with Nino and Lila. “Great! Let’s go, before lunch time runs out.”

Marinette and Adrien followed behind. As they walked Marinette leaned in to murmur, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Adrien whispered back. “Your knight in shining leather is always here to help.”

She snorted and bumped him. Adrien grinned.

“It’s a tail as old as time. Fur as long as I can remember, it’s always been the princess and her alley cat against the world.” Marinette groaned, but the sparkle in her eye betrayed her. “What’s wrong, Milady? Are you feline okay? You didn’t catch a cold or something, did you?”

“What secrets are you two whispering about?” Nino joked. Adrien sent him an innocent smile.

“I have no idea what you mean. I’m just complimenting my beautiful girlfriend.” He leaned in to Marinette to add, “Let me know if all the whiskering is bugging you.”

Marinette laughed out loud. “Please, Adrien. Please get some new material.”

“Why would I, when I have the purrfect puns already?” He lowered his voice again. “Seriously though, if I am annoying you or if Lila’s making you feel uncomfortable, just let me know.”

“I will, kitty.” Marinette smiled. Adrien was thrilled that he could make her smile like that. He would tell awful puns every day for the rest of his life if it would make Marinette smile.

They walked together, with a liar, to go get lunch.

Two months later

“Are you sure about this?” Adrien asked for what seemed like the umpteenth time as Marinette shoved her bag into her locker. She still held her newly-uncasted arm carefully against her body, out of habit. “I can do it instead, it doesn’t have to be you.”

“Yes it does.” Marinette closed her locker firmly. “I have to do this. You just make sure to get it all, okay? You have an important part.”

“Of course, Milady.” Adrien wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her hair. Marinette hummed happily and buried her face in his jacket. And everything was wonderful for a short, blissful moment.

There was a faint zipping sound, and then Plagg stuck his head through the wall of the deserted locker room and barked, “She’s alone in the courtyard. Now’s the time, Pigtails.”

Adrien wished this moment would never end. Alas, he could not hold the love of his life forever. Marinette proved that when she lifted her head.

“Okay.” She pulled in a deep breath and smiled up at Adrien.

“You’ve got this.” He told her. She nodded.

“Yeah. Okay. Tikki, spots on.”

When it was over Adrien rushed to meet Marinette in the garden behind the school, tucked away between trees and bundles of flowers. She had beaten him there and had already detransformed, Tikki sitting on a nearby branch and munching on a cookie. When Adrien arrived she looked up at him with tear-filled eyes and lifted her arms.

“Hey, hey.” Adrien ran into her embrace and hugged her tightly. She was shaking. “It’s okay. You did it. You were amazing Marinette, and now it’s all over.”

“I know.” Marinette mumbled again him. “I just can’t believe…”

“I know.” He held her firmly and Marinette returned the gesture, clutching at his back. “You’re done. You can relax now.”

Marinette made a muffled sound. Adrien stroked her hair.

“Do you wanna go home?”

She nodded, not lifting her face from his chest.

“Do you wanna be alone?”

She shook her head.

“Do you wanna cuddle and watch cartoons?”

Marinette nodded again.

“Do you wanna watch the Ladybug and Chat Noir movie and laugh at all the stuff that they got wrong?”

Another nod. Adrien kissed the top of her head.

“Then that can be arranged. And we’ll deal with tomorrow when it comes.”

“When it comes.” Marinette mumbled.

Adrien walked to the front of the class the next morning just before school was due to start. Most of the students were already in their seats – including Marinette, who Adrien had insisted was due for a break. She had already done the heavy lifting of the plan, now Adrien could see it through. Besides, she didn’t need Lila targeting her even more for this. Speaking of Lila, Adrien could feel the girl’s suspicious glare drilling into his back as he spoke to Ms. Bustier.

“Excuse me miss, is it alright if I show the class something before the lesson starts? It’s urgent.”

She frowned from her desk. “Can it wait? We have a lot of important information to cover this lesson.”

“Ms. Bustier, this is very important information. I think everyone should see it as soon as possible – including you and the other teachers.”

She shook her head. “Mister Agreste, I really don’t see what could be so important that you must interrupt my lesson. Why don’t you go and sit down, and talk to the principal at lunch?”

“Because it concerns my classmates and-”

“All the more reason for it to be dealt with discreetly – we don’t need a spectacle.”

“You didn’t give Marinette that luxury.” Chloe called mildly from the front seat. Adrien turned to stare at her in disbelief. “You called her out in front of everyone during that whole cheating scandal. Why not give Adrien the same luxury? Or do I need to bring my daddy into this?” She pulled out her phone threateningly and Miss Bustier whitened.

“That will not be necessary, Chloe. I’m sure a… a few minutes is fine.”

“It won’t take long.” Adrien assured, sending Chloe a grateful look. She smiled smugly. Adrien quickly plugged in his USB and opened the document, taking a breath to raise his voice to the whole class.

“Thank you all for your time. At first I wasn’t sure if I should share this – but after doing a bit of research, I’ve found some worrying things that I think everyone here should know about.” Adrien could feel Lila’s glare searing through his forehead. He resisted the urge to smirk at her, instead schooling his expression into hesitance and worry. He had a part to play – the innocent bystander. After all, a malicious witness wasn’t very trustworthy. “I sent a copy to Mr. Damocles and the Ladyblog – Alya, you probably haven’t seen it yet – but I think it’s important that you all watch it before anyone else.”

Marinette met his eye, and nodded. Adrien smiled at her and pressed play.

#fic #my writing #ladybug #miraculous ladybug #chat noir #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #lila #lila gets exposed #dnhtns

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chick-from-nz · 4 years ago

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Paper, Scissors, Rank (Ch: 5)

CHARACTER/PAIRING: Modern!Carrillo x Army!OC (eventually)

WARNINGS: maybe some swearing, military slang, more military talk, spelling and grammatical errors. Flippy floppy points of view and tenses. Could be very OOC/AU for some. Carrillo may not be narcos accurate as this is an AU. Some OC x OC

AUTHORS NOTE: bit of backstory in this chapter, warning if you don't like blood, theres some but its not overly descriptive. Other than that, bit of Carrillo, bit of OC. bit of everything really. shorter chapter

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

CHAPTER: 5 OF ?

TAG LIST(OPEN): @girlpornparadise @1zashreena1 @xxidontwikeitxx @nicke0115 @allalngthewtchtower @lettherebrelight

Greyson stayed slumped against the wall longer than necessary, hopelessly trying to bring her heart rate back to normal after the frankly, overwhelmingly hot, interaction with the Colonel. Yes she was ecstatic that she had been chosen for his team, but she wasn’t really able to process that information after the mess he had left her in. She was panting like a dog in heat, unbearably turned on, and sticky in places she hadn’t been in a very long time. Whatever he had just done to her, she wanted more of it. Lots more of it. He had opened a gateway into all things filthy and it frustrated her to no end.

Pushing herself into the upright position was no easy feat, but she knew she needed to work out her frustration even more after that interaction with the Colonel. No, she thought, maybe from now on I should call him Carrillo, since he is now my boss and all. The thrill of that settled low in her stomach and had her heart jumping at the thought. Grunting she pushed herself towards the gym with haste, before she could follow the mounting temptation to follow the Colo--- Carrillo, down the hallway to finish what he started.

Glancing around the gym she made note of the equipment. A few boxing bags, a couple of dumb bells, a bench press and other various things she could not name. Not the best of gyms but it would do. Stripping out of her long sleeve camo shirt she was left in her army issue green t-shirt, a shirt that was usually reserved for occasions such as this. She made the hasty decision to shuck off her boots and socks leaving her barefoot, before rolling her pants legs up a few inches to rest a rough inch below her knee. A much more practical workout attire.

Forgoing the weights as they weren’t her style, Greyson focused on the bags hanging in the middle of the room. Now this is where she would have fun. Coming from a generational military family had meant that her father had wanted her ‘fighting fit’ as soon as she was able to walk. By the time she was five years old she had been enrolled in martial arts and kids cadets. By age twelve she had won three championships in the sport and taken home the drill trophy at the cadet school. She couldn’t have made her father prouder, until the moment she won nationals for kickboxing, taking home the trophy and quite substantial prize money. That was the moment she knew she wanted to fight for a living, not as a pro kickboxer but as a soldier like her father was, she was only fifteen at the time.

At age seventeen she enlisted in the army, only to be denied on medical grounds and put on a two year stand down. From then on out, her father didn’t pay her any notice, always stealing himself away from the ‘disappointment’ of the family and being deployed for months at a time on purpose. Being the only child, and being denied access into the only service her family thought fit to serve in, made her feel like a useless waste of space.

Even while feeling like the worlds biggest disappointment she still pushed herself to her limits, training seven days a week for up to four hours a day, trying oh so desperately to make her father proud of her. At nineteen she didn’t want to become a regular soldier, she wanted to become an officer, but that would require her to wait another two years to be the minimum age to enlist. So she waited, kept training hard. She took shooting lessons at the local range, would do weighted pack runs three times a week and spend hours out in the bush at night teaching herself survival techniques. All the things she could hope would help her when she finally made the cut.

When she enlisted again at twenty-one, they denied her on the grounds that ‘she didn’t have enough life experience’, so this time, instead of letting it get to her, she doubled down on the training. And finally, when she reapplied again at twenty two years of age, she was accepted and began her first day of training a mere week after her twenty third birthday. Yet, she was still one of the youngest of the cadets she enlisted with, the eldest, Cadet Monroe, being thirty two years of age. It baffled her why someone would join as a cadet at that age when she knew the LT. Colonel, and possibly the Colonel himself, was younger than the cadet.

Pushing those thought from her mind Greyson began her workout, spending a small amount of time to warm up, before jumping straight into combination drills on the bag that she had learnt many years ago. She was able to switch off at this point, the years of doing the same routines over and over had drilled this into her muscle memory. She was all fluid motion and hard calculated strikes at her age. Briefly her thoughts return to the situation that had occurred mere minutes ago in the hallway. The way the Colonel’s body had been so tightly pushed against her had her breathing increasing, far from being exhausted she threw more weight into her strikes.

Damn that handsome bastard of an officer for working me up like this. This is the kind of shit that shouldn’t be getting to me anymore! , and with one last frustrated huff Greyson threw her hardest punch yet, yelping from the force of landing on the bag. She pulled her hand towards her chest to examine it. From the look of it, there was no damage done other than a few bruises covering her knuckles, not an unusual feeling for the cadet. She just wish she had been quick enough to land a hit of that smug face that was now haunting her thoughts more so than ever.

-------

Carrillo had finally made it to his intended destination, Lt. Colonel Sinclair's’ office. There was small doubt in his mind that the man residing within the office had been playing upon His cadets’ emotions during the course of her training. He wasn’t a stupid man by any means, he had put two and two together after witnessing the moment that occurred between himself and Greyson at the training yards. The smug smirk the Lt. had sported while walking past him that day had planted a seed of disrespect towards the man.

Carrillo didn't bother to knock on the man's door before barging in, he was in fact the senior officer in this situation so the LT. could suck it up.

Sinclair stood up in a hell of a rush, not really sure as to who would be bursting into his office at this time of day, he had half expected to see Cadet Greyson standing there waiting to apologize and finally accept his attention, instead he was greeted with the stone faced Colonel from Columbia. “Ah Sir, good to see you again, I gather that your time on the base has been productive, congrats on forming your team. Now, what can I help you with, Sir ?”

“It has been brought to my attention that you were not forthcoming about the information regarding the cadet that I have selected, rather you lied to the cadets while claiming you had not yet been informed yourself, is this true Lieutenant?”

“I... uh... what Sir. I don’t know where you got that bullshit from but that is not the case, I held Greyson behind to give her the good news but she stormed off before I could tell her” The lieutenant cleared his throat to cover his mounting embarrassment at the situation before him. He definitely wasn’t above lying to cover his tracks and throw the Colonel in front of him off the scent of his essentially illegal advances at the cadet mentioned. He was greeted with a raised eyebrow and a knowing look on the Columbians face.

“I think it's safe to say you can cut the shit, Sinclair. I know all about your advances toward Cadet Greyson. I fail to see why you would lie about it considering the rumors' brewing in the Cadets barracks tonight. That and might I mention the encounter I witnessed between you and Greyson just a few days ago. There was nothing professional about that!”

“Look, Sir” The Lt. Colonel spat, making his way around his desk to make himself look bigger, “Frankly it's none of your damn business which cadets I chose to associate with or not. Greyson can make up her own mind about what and WHO, she wants. And let's face it, they graduate in a little over a week now. The cadets are fair game to the rest of the corps now” The borderline insubordination coupled with the hungry grin cemented exactly what the Lt. Colonel was trying to obtain. The realization had Colonel Carrillo’s stomach turning at the thought. If he was this open and honest about his intentions then HIS cadet was in a very rocky situation.

Clearing his throat and taking a rather large step toward the lower ranked officer before him, the Colonel fought off the need to punch the smug man in the face. But there was no point in doing that, lest he chase off the Cadet from his team, he still was unsure of her exact feelings for the man currently before him. He tilted his head back to stare down his nose at the perverse man before him. Crowding just ever so close to the man to make him uncomfortable.

“I suggest you stay the fuck away from that recruit, Lieutenant. She is part of MY team which now makes her, MY responsibility and henceforth, MY cadet. Keep your filthy hands off her or I'll have you charged for unwanted advances, then it will be goodbye senior rank and back to junior officer you go. Understood?” The Colonel declared, fully expecting the man before him to back down, except defeat and allow him to carry on with his evening. The exact opposite occurred.

“I think there is something you just don’t quite get, Sir” the Lt. Colonel scoffed, “That girl out there, that stupid young cadet, will believe anything that is fed to her. How do you think I got her wrapped around my finger in the first place” He laughed off the end of his sentence, pushing at the Colonels’ shoulders in order to get past him to sit back down behind his desk. “As far as I'm concerned, you don’t have a single claim on that cadet until she accepts your proposal to join your team..” he trailed off before delivering the most sarcastic “SIR!” he could muster. Shoulder shaking as he chuckled away to himself.

-------

Greyson had pushed herself to the point of over exertion. Working out at a hundred percent capacity would do that to a person, even if she was used to endurance training. Combining the work out with her mental and previous physical exertion had been enough for her to drop to the mats after a solid hour of hammering the training bag. Her knuckles of her left hand were thoroughly bruised but the knuckles of her right hand were a bit more worse for wear. A deep gash had formed over the knuckle of her index finger, the bloody pouring steadily from the gash, the rest of her knuckles on that hand were marked with much smaller gashes, a minimal amount of blood coming from the cuts. It looked like she’d killed someone.

Cradling her hand to her chest she made her way to the bathroom adjacent to the gym. She turned the tap on, waiting for the water to run clear before thrusting her hands under it to clean off the blood, barely flinching at the sting that came from cleaning out the gash. The sink turned a faded crimson from the amount of blood being washed from her hands. She felt numb, unbearingly so, it seemed the week had finally caught up with her, she felt as though she could curl up in a ball right now and wake up a week later. So lost in her own thoughts and mesmerized by the blood flowing from her hands and into the sink, she failed to notice the presence behind her until it was too late. One minute the cadet is watching her blood flow down the sink, the next her vision is fading to black.

-------

Carrillo was fuming, muscles taught, hands curled tight and ready to release upon the man before him. His jaw was clenched so tight he could hear his teeth grinding together. He took a step towards the man with the full intent of knocking his flat onto the floor, black out cold. And he would have too, if it wasn’t for the frantic knocking followed closely by Cadet Calliope all but throwing himself into the room.

“Sir, come quick, it's Greyson” Calliope exclaimed. There was a frantic tone in his voice that snapped both men out of their grudge match.

Carrillo spun to give the young man his full attention, before nodding at the recruit, “Lead the way Cadet” . They followed the cadet through the twists and turns of the hallways leading towards the medics bay. Upon seeing both officers the nurses rushed them through to her room. And there, laying almost deathly still, was Cadet Greyson. Gash above her eyebrow being stitched together as Carrillo watched on from the door. She looked nothing like the strong cadet he had seen perform all week. She looked fragile, too fragile. Not wanting to watch any further he pushed past Sinclair who was standing directly behind him, mouth agape, hands shaking and look like he might collapse himself.

Carrillo grabbed Calliope by the arm, pulling him down the hallway and into a spare room. He rounded on the cadet, finger pointed and eyes ablaze, as he hissed, “Explain to me exactly what you know Cadet, and don’t you dare leave anything out”

Cadet Calliope gulped, mouth suddenly dry. Well here goes nothing, he thought

#horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo x oc #horacio carrillo x reader #narcos fanfic #modern au #paper scissors rank #chapter 5 #narcos

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roguesandsaviors · 5 years ago

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Cover Story Needed

Fandom: The Walking Dead Characters: Negan, Reader Pairing: Negan x Reader Summary: In a moment of desperation, you lie to one of your coworkers about having a boyfriend, needing to avoid his skeevy pick up attempts for the next company dinner. The only one who might be able to help is your friend and neighbor, Negan. Word Count: 4,521 Rating: SFW Warning: Cursing, Negan being Negan, some violence, threatening behavior Author’s Note: This is for Meg’s 11K Follower challenge. Thanks to @thranduilsperkybutt for hosting it. The prompts were Au and trope based, which was an absolute blast. This is the first of a few fics (three but possibly more) I signed up for. Fake dating/pretend couple and Negan? How could I possibly pass that up. I haven’t done a lot of reader insert fics because I find I often struggle with them. So I hope this came out okay. Not Beta-ed so all mistakes are my own.

********************************************************************

Another social event, a plea for money in disguise, and another chance for that prick of a coworker to annoy the shit out of you. You weren’t sure that you could stomach it but there was no real way to back out of the obligation. The company was requiring your presence, asking you to give a presentation on the latest research that was coming out of your department.

The word got out about the event and in no time, Charles had made his way over to you, a grin on his face that made you want to smack him. He had no reason to be that cocky about anything. He was a subpar scientist at best and in no way was he God’s gift to women like he thought that he was.

“Hey, Y/N. I was hoping that we could talk about the dinner coming up. I know that they are having you give a presentation. But, I thought that we could go together. You know, have someone nice on your arm and make the evening even better. Maybe we could even have our own little presentation afterwards.” The thought made you want to gag. How he had not gotten fired for sexual harassment was beyond you. A tight smile came to your face and you shook your head.

“I’m sorry Charles. I already have someone that I will be going with.” He frowned and leaned in closer, causing you to lean back more.

“We just found out about it. How can you possibly have someone to go with.”

“It’s my boyfriend.” You were going to owe Negan big time for this one. Whatever he asked for, he was going to get it.

“Boyfriend? Since when do you have a boyfriend?” His displeasure was growing more obvious by the moment, which was only causing your discomfort to grow worse.

“That’s frankly none of your business. Now, I would appreciate it if you would leave me to my work.” It had been a long time since you had shoved your foot in your mouth that badly but there was no one that he had been ready to accept no for an answer. You just prayed that Negan was free and willing to go along with the plan.

You and Negan had been neighbors for close to five years and friends for a little over half of that time. A grill incident in your backyard had led to some shared take out and a couple of beers. It had been a Friday night ritual since. It was a nice way for him to unwind after his week and served as a pick me up for any pending crises that could arise over the weekend for you.

You settled your bag down on the table, keys tossed into their bowl before toeing off your shoes. It was better to get a hold of the man in question now than delay things and perseverate on them. It was just a matter of figuring out whether to go over to his place and ask or call him. Embarrassment was going to happen either way and you were trying to figure out which method was going to save a little more face.

The decision was taken out of your hands when you heard his voice calling through an open window.

“About fucking time you got home, Y/N.” He grumbled, though the grin on his face spoke a different story. “It was a fucking shit day at the office. Picked a bottle of that stuff that you like along with a bottle of whiskey for myself. Figured we could settle in, watch some horrible b rated action movie and get shit faced.” Nothing really sounded better at that moment.

“The doors unlocked. Come on in.” Maybe you could wait until you were a little drunk before springing the question on him. Then you could at least blame any awkwardness on the alcohol. That seemed like a good plan.

Negan pushed open the back door and the clinging of bottles could be heard.

“How was your day?”

“I got pegged to give a presentation of the latest research at the dinner that is planned Saturday night.”

“That’s awesome. Congrats doll.”

“Actually, I was hoping that I could talk to you about that.”

“All fucking ears.” You had been hoping that he would push it off but as you moved to the kitchen, you could see that he was pouring drinks for the both of you.

“Uh, well you see, Charles asked to go with me.”

“That asshole still bothering you?” It wasn’t the first time that you had brought up the other man’s name. Negan knew that he made you feel uncomfortable. “Wait, you aren’t going with him are you?” He stopped what he was doing and looked up, something passing over his face that you couldn’t read.

“Oh god no. I haven’t been on a date in months but that is a level of desperation that I will never reach.” He laughed and relaxed a bit, moving to hand you the glass that he had poured.

“Good. Prick like that doesn’t need anyone giving into that pressure bullshit. He’s lucky that he doesn’t run into me.” That was going to change if he agreed to your request.

“Actually, you might. See, I told him that I had a boyfriend and couldn't’ go with him since I was going with someone else.”

“Fucker should have just taken no for an answer.”

“I know Negan. The excuse came out before I could help it. I didn’t mean to lie about it.”

“So you want me to go with you?” Not much escaped the man, that was certain.

“I was hoping you weren’t busy on Saturday. You’re the only one I trust enough to do this.”

“Well, I’m flattered, doll. And you just so happen to be in luck that my Saturday is clear.” He smirked and took a sip of his glass. “This mean I have to behave? Or can I knock the fuckers teeth down his throat if he causes any issue.” It was a work function and you would prefer not to have to deal with any fallout of an altercation. At the same time, the thought of watching Negan put Charles into his place was more than appealing.

“You know what, I don’t care. He’ll have it coming if he does something stupid.”

“That’s the spirit. I didn’t even need to get you drunk for that.” He teased as he threw an arm around your shoulders. “Think I’m rubbing off on you, Y/N.” He led you to the couch, where you both plopped down. After having spent so much time panicking about what he would say and what you would have to do if he said no, you were feeling more than ready to unwind and drink away the stress of the day. The burn in your throat was welcomed as you took a long drink from the glass, hearing the snicker from the man beside you. Blindly, you reached out and smacked him on the arm, already knowing where he was going to go with a comment.

“Pick out a movie already.” You mumbled and kicked your feet up.

“Yes ma’am.” He teased, earning himself another smack. He flicked through a few channels before finding something that looked God awful, just the sort of movie that you both needed to forget the days that you had. *************************** The night had come and you were feeling nervous about it all over again. Negan had put up a little bit of a stink when he had learned that he would need to get dressed up for it. The entire event was being held at a rather high end hotel and there would be plenty of potential donors and other important members of the board present.

“I didn’t think it was possible for you to clean up that nice.” You looked towards Negan, surprised to see just how sharp he looked in his suit. You weren’t ever one to deny that he was good looking but the thoughts had not gone any further than that. He was your friend and that was a relationship that you didn’t want to lose.

“Ain’t the only looking fine doll.” He winked as he whistled, a low sound, taking in the outfit you had chosen for the evening. It was nothing over the top but it suited the fact that you would be standing behind a podium talking to a large room full of fellow scientists. A flowing blouse and skirt that dropped to halfway down your calves made up your outfit. You looked down at yourself, not wanting to blush in front of the man. “I’ll have the best looking lady on my arm tonight.”

“Alright mister smooth talker. Are you ready to go?”

“Easy Y/N. I’m just playing with you. Come on.” He led you over to his Camaro. It was a pet project of his, something that you had watched him work on and restore piece by piece over the past year.

“I didn’t realize that you finished her up.” He opened the door for you.

“Got her done a couple weeks ago but was saving giving her the first drive for a special occasion.” Some heat came to your cheeks as he spoke about it being a special occasion. It was nothing more than a friend helping a friend. Negan was being kind and offering to pretend to be your boyfriend for the evening. There wasn’t much that was special about that. Though, he was also trying to show up Charlies and that was a reason enough to pull this beauty out for a proper drive.

The drive over was enjoyable, filled with the usual back and forth banter that had come to be the norm between you two. You found some comfort in that, a solid footing that was familiar when there was going to be so many off kilter moments coming up.

“You ready doll?” He asked as he pulled the car to a stop.

“Not like I can back out of it.” You stared at the building in front of you, knowing that no matter how much you would have liked to head back home and spend the evening lounging with Negan, there was no chance of that happening. Giving the presentation wasn’t the problem. It was the evening surrounding it that had you nervous.

“Of course you fucking can. I can turn this car around right now.” You offered him a smile, appreciating what he was willing to do for you. He was a good friend.

“No.” You shook your head. “Thank you though.”

“Well then, let’s get this fucking show on the road. You just gotta get through this presentation, we’ll eat a little, and head home so you can get shit faced and forget about all this bullshit.” The comment finally got a small laugh out of you.

“Thank you Negan.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” You both got out of the car and Negan moved over, offering his hand. Taking it, you let out a slow breath to keep all the nerves as reigned in as possible. The warmth of his hand was comforting and after a nod, the two of you made your way to the conference room.

There were already a lot of bodies milling about, most having drinks in hand. That didn’t seem like a bad idea but you couldn’t get away with drinking too much. Being drunk, giving the presentation would make things easier in that moment but had some horrible long term consequences. You pushed off the feeling and found yourself giving Negan’s hand a squeeze. He hadn’t moved from your side and was observing the room around you.

Before you had the chance to say anything to him, Charles and Richard, your boss came up to the two of you. Charles was already eyeing Negan while Richard was all smiles. That was odd. Your boss was a cheery person, and thankfully someone who believed in the work that you did. You had come against your fair share of men who still thought that science belonged to them and women had no place.

“Good evening Miss Y/L/N. And who do you have with you.” He held out his hand to Negan, who shook it with a smile but it was hard to miss the look that he was giving Charles. He already knew who the man was.

“Good evening Richard. This is my significant other, Negan.” Boyfriend felt a little childish but in this setting. You settled on the more adult sounding title, though it still felt odd coming from your mouth.

“Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise.” He offered before it became obvious that you were going to have to introduce Charles.

“My coworker Charles.” You offered as your hand tightened in his again. The stare down was tense and even Richard seemed to pick up on it as the smile faltered. The handshake between the two men was stiff at best. There were no words exchanged between them and you rocked on your heels for a moment, just waiting for the fight to break out. Negan didn’t have great self control at times but you hoped that given the setting, he would be behaved.

“Gotta admit, I thought Y/N was pulling my leg when she said that she had a boyfriend.” You swallowed, hoping that he wouldn’t poke and prod too much. It wasn’t like you and Negan didn’t know each other well but surely someone who decided to look into it enough would find holes in whatever story you had come up with.

“Now why would she do something like that?” His hand left yours, instead sliding around your waist and keeping you close to his side. It was a more intimate touch than the hand holding for sure. You found yourself relaxing into the touch though instead of tensing. It wasn’t like being pressed against him was new, you often fell asleep on him during drunk movie nights, but this was in public, in front of people that thought you were a couple.

“How did you two meet?”

“We are neighbors actually.” Negan started before you could. “She ended up having a fire, trying to grill something. I don’t even remember what at this point. I had to hop the fence to put the fucker out. Shared a couple of drinks and it went from there. She couldn’t resist my charms.” He winked down at you, and you swore you felt your cheeks heat up. That was easy enough, since he went with the event that started your friendship. It wasn’t what you had discussed but it was easier and more believable.

“Bit embarrassing but he seemed to find it endearing enough.” You finally found your voice and gave him a smile before looking back at the other two. Richard was easy about but Charles still didn’t look convinced. Warm lips met your cheek and you were definitely blushing now. Negan’s soft chuckle was close to your ear but the action just sold the story further.

“We have you giving your presentation after a small speech from Frank. Are you ready?” Richard was able to turn back to the matter at hand and you were grateful.

“Yeah, I have everything put together.” You reached into your purse and produced a USB drive. “Everything is on there.” He took the device from you.

“I’ll go get everything set up. I’m sure that it will be fantastic.” He didn’t need to remind you who was here. You could see several important faces in the crowd over his shoulder. All you had to do was give the presentation, eat, kiss some ass, and you and Negan could get out of there. You were left in an awkward position with Charles. He wasn’t walking off to mingle like he should have been. He was standing there, watching the two of you with a critical eye.

“Excuse us, but I think we both need a drink.” Instead of leaving you on your own with him, he pulled you along towards the small bar that had been set up.

“Thank you.” You mumbled.

“Prick was begging for me to knock him the fuck out.” He grumbled right back before ordering you both something to ease the nerves.

“We shouldn’t have to put up with too much of him. Hopefully he will be kissing too much ass to get his project more funding. That is what normally happens here. After we eat, I have to do a little bit of the same and we can get out of here.”

“Whatever you gotta do. I got free booze and food out of it. I’m in it for the long haul.” He winked again as he handed you the cool glass. You wanted to guzzle it down but that would just cause more problems. You sipped it slowly, savoring the high end liquor.

“I’ll have to remember that for future events.” You found yourself teasing.

“I’m a cheap fucking date.” He sipped his drink before glancing around. “Who would have thought that science is all this shit?”

“Mainly this shit. Can’t happen without money. And most aren’t willing to give it up easily. Though I suppose it’s better than having to beg in front of a grant committee.”

“Shit, sounds like having to stand in front of the school board.” You laughed again.

“Yeah, I guess they are probably like one another. Come on, let’s go find somewhere to sit.” He led you towards a table that seemed decently full, something that surprised you until you realized that Charles was hovering again. He was trying to find a spot that the man wouldn’t be able to join them at. It was a smart decision.

Negan pulled your chair out with a smile.

“Can have some manners when the moment calls for it.” He teased as you sat down. You would only get a few minutes before having to give your presentation. This was a way to relax though before that. Another sip of your drink and you ignored the fact that Charles was lingering.

“Color me shocked.” He made sure no one was looking as he flipped your off subtly. It brought another laugh from you and had him smiling. That was more like it. There were a few smiles sent in your direction but no one offered more conversation at the moment.

*********************************** The presentation had gone well enough and from the sounds of it, you had impressed several of the donors. All in all, it was a fairly successful night for you. Finally though, it was over and you were grateful. Negan had an arm around your shoulders as he led you out. It had started to rain so he paused at the entrance.

“Let me grab the car, doll. Wait right here. I’ll be right back.”

“I don’t mind walking in the rain Negan.”

“Just fucking wait.” He laughed a bit and moved out into the downpour. You shook your head, feeling the smile pulling at your lips despite trying to hold back.

“Impressive.” You tensed immediately at hearing Charles so close. “I am surprised that everyone bought the story.” You looked at him out of the corner of your eye.

“What do you mean story?” You asked innocently, hoping that he would buy it. If tonight hadn’t worked though, the likelihood was low that he would buy anything now. You tightened your arms over your chest and hoped that he wouldn’t press too hard, or that someone would come up and save you from the conversation. It would be best if Negan appeared with the car.

“Don’t feed me that bullshit. There is no way that you two are actually dating.”

“And why is that Charles?” You asked, unable to hold back on some of the frustration that you were feeling. The whole point of this thing with Negan was to keep the man from talking to you or bugging you about this whole thing. You had thought that you had played the evening well.

“His eyes wandered half the evening. You two are friends at best. I mean the body language between the two of you screams friends but nothing more.” You could have started screaming. No one was coming to your rescue and Negan had yet to appear with the car. You were stuck dealing with this prick until one of those two things happened. You could step outside but if you made it to where you parked and Negan wasn’t there, it could cause trouble. Who knew if Charles would bother to leave it be even then. He could follow you outside and then you could be in real trouble. No, it was safer to stay where you were and wait it out the best that you could. “Come on Y/N, give it up. Why won’t you go out with me.”

“I don’t want to, Charles.” You replied firmly, though the hair on the back of your neck was beginning to stand up. A pit was forming in your gut as the man shifted closer before he had a hand on the small of your back and at your elbow. “Get off of me.”

“I just want to talk. Why don’t we head back?”

“Because I don’t want to. I thought that I made that clear enough. Get your hands off of me.” You squirmed and attempted to pull away but his hold just tightened. Your brain was screaming right now. You had to get away from him. No matter what. You could cause enough of a scene that he would have to let go of you.

Just as you were about to start screaming, Negan pulled and his smile dropped as soon as he saw the position that you were in. You were silently pleading for help, still trying to pull away from Charles.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” That was a tone that you weren’t used to hearing from Negan. He was pissed and he was marching right towards the both of you. If the situation had been different, maybe you would have been intimidated by the posture and the fire in his eyes. Right now, you were thankful that he was willing to intervene. “Get your fucking hands off of her right now.” He was standing next to you in the blink of an eye. He reached out, shoving Charles in the shoulder while his other hand gently encompassed your wrist and pulled you behind him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Charles responded, pissed that Negan had laid hands on him.

“Oh, can dish it out but can’t fucking take it huh? You don’t like it when someone lays hands on you without permission.” Negan snarled. “You don’t fucking touch a woman after she has said no. It’s a lesson you better fucking learn quick asshole. Or I’ll be glad to make sure you remember it for the rest of your life.” He stepped closer and you could see the tension in his shoulders. If you didn’t do something about it, there was going to be a full blown fight.

“You aren’t going to do anything.” You looked towards the ceiling, knowing that Charles was signing his own fate.

“Come on Negan, let’s just go, please.” You softly begged, hoping that it was enough to pull the man out of his anger. If you could just get him to focus on you long enough, maybe you could convince him to just leave it be and head home.

“You’re just a nobody and aren’t good enough for someone like Y/N. The only way you can get close is pretending to date her.” Charles goaded, not letting the subject rest, allowing you to pull Negan away. It was apparently the last bit of pushing that Negan needed. You watched his arm cock back and before you could do anything, the punch had landed. Charles stumbled back, blood already falling down his face. There was something satisfying about the whole incident. He had been such a thorn in your side for so long that seeing some justice served was overdue. That didn’t change the fact that you were still in the hotel and the scene had attracted plenty of attention.

“You might be right. I’m not fucking good enough. But at least I respect her and don’t force myself on Y/N unlike you. It’s no wonder that you can’t find a girl.” He rolled his shoulders and turned to look at you, looking apologetic. “Come on doll, let’s get out of here.” He wrapped an arm around you and ignored everyone that was closing in. He led you to the car, opening the door once more to let you in before running to his side of the car.

“Shit, Y/N. I’m sorry.” He huffed as he took off, not looking at you.

“There isn’t anything for you to be sorry about Negan.” You offered softly. Sure, he had made a scene and there would be fallout to deal with at work. You could handle that. “Thank you for putting him in his place.”

“I caused a fucking scene with your coworkers and who the fuck knows what the fuck is going to happen when you have to go back on Monday.” He shook his head before finally looking in your direction. “I wasn’t going to let him keep his hands on you when you were uncomfortable and clearly didn’t want it. No man has that right with a woman and I have no problem reminding them of it.” You reached out and squeezed his arm. It was more than anyone else had done. Everyone at work let him get away with the behavior, or just flat out didn’t see it.

“I can handle whatever fallout comes my way. That isn’t a problem.” You didn’t want him feeling bad about that, or worrying that he had just made you lose your job. Richard wasn’t going to fire you over that sort of incident. You hadn’t been the one to be physical. You were confident on that front. The rest of the drive was quiet, Negan seemingly not wanting to talk about it anymore. It wasn’t like you could push him for more so you let it be and played the events over again. In the rush of it all, hoping that Charles wouldn’t lash out in response, you had missed the fact that he had thought himself not good enough for you. That was far from the truth. He was an attractive man but you hadn’t let yourself think about it any more than the occasional passing thought. You were friends and you valued that. His interest in women always seemed to be passing anyway. That sort of behavior had been worked out of your system in college and you weren’t interested in warming a bed for a night every now and then. It would never work out between you two. Right?

#thranduilsperkybutt #megs11kchallenge #negan fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #Negan #Reader #my writing #my fic #fake dating trope #nervous about this one

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chaoticneutralwriter · 5 years ago

Text

The Extent of Happiness

Jimin thinks he’s a perfect demon, given the centuries of work he’s done and now he dare say he makes for a pretty decent temp-guardian too — he even has the papers to prove it. So with a good clean record, he’s well on his way to getting into the good graces of heaven again to pardon his mischief, only he never realized in his long years of living until now that there is one short-coming he had — as both a demon and a guardian.

guardian demon!Jimin x reader

word count: 18.6k (lord)

genre: slow-burn, supernatural, comedy, fluff, romance, a little angst, slice of life

warning: brief talk of some ill-intentions towards another character

Related works: see masterlist under guardian demon! Jimin

A/N: THIS TOOK FOREVERR.... ;_; tfw the chapter is pretty straight forward but didn’t realize the scenes would take so much planning XD Lots of time skips-ish but it at least takes over the course of two days. Hope you enjoy it, thank you so much for all the patience and love once again! 😚😚💖💖

It’s over.

It’s finally over.

You collapse onto your bed, exhausted but victorious in a way. You’ve just finished your last exam, gone in with a fuck-all attitude that made it go by in a blur and now that it’s out of your hands, you’re finally allowed to be numb to it all. The stress of it is over and though you would be elated if you passed with a pretty good grade, you honestly don’t care if you scraped by or even fail one (you’ve done the math, that's how much you've given up). All you want to do now is to sleep for three years….and maybe have a glass of wine, or a whole bottle you’re not sure.

You’ll have to think on that. But right now, you just want to do nothing for a while.

Unfortunately, your body interpreted ‘do nothing’ as straight up passing out. You’re disoriented by the time you wake up, having not realized you fell into a coma-like sleep in the first place. Jaehee’s the one who knocks on your door to come check on you.

“Fam, you good?” She asks, half-jokingly but you can still hear the tinge of worry slipping through her tone.

You only let out a low, half-dying groan, shifting so that your face is not entirely smushed into your mattress.

“I don’t even remember falling asleep….”

If you had turned over more, you would’ve seen Jaehee giving you a wry smile. “Yeah…. You were out cold when I got home and I didn’t have the heart to wake you, but then I got really worried because you were seriously like out.”

That got a snort out of you, however groggy you might feel as your mind takes its time to become more alert.

“But congrats on finishing your last exam today!” Jaehee cheers, coming over to sit at the end of your bed where your body is draped over in a horizontal fashion. “We should celebrate.”

You let out a whining noise of protest because although you do want to go celebrate (read: drink yourself into an oblivion while stuffing your face with the fattiest, greasiest foods you could find), you also really don’t feel like moving yet. Jaehee laughs, patting your head in a very motherly way that has you nearly dozing off again.

“Okay, okay how about we order pizza and we crack open some cold ones over Netflix?”

That gets a short bark of laughter from you and that’s all that Jaehee needs before she’s getting up again to place the order. During that time, you roll around on your bed some more, scroll through your social media for a while before finally mustering up the strength to get up with a stretch. You loudly let out a drawn out groan as your joints pop and your muscles unwind from being in the same position for so long before you stand, grabbing a new set of PJs as you head to the bathroom.

After a refreshing shower that leaves you more awake now and ready to devour some serious carbs, you saunter into the living room where Jaehee is setting up the extra large pizza box on the coffee table. Your mouth instantly waters at the smell of melted cheese, pepperoni, bacon and mushrooms. Beside the box is a case of Somersby cider, the cans still chilled with condensation so when you crack it open to take a sip, it sends a pleasant chill down your throat.

Taking a seat next to Jaehee on the couch, you reach for a slice of pizza and the first bite has you moaning loudly. “Let me stay like this forever.”

Your friend giggles at your overdramatic comment but nevertheless starts scrolling through the Netflix account to find a series to watch.

“Well, you can now that you’re done for the semester.”

“Thank God for that.”

As Jaehee settles on a show, she reaches for her own can of alcohol, bringing it up towards you and you instantly respond by grabbing yours.

“Cheers to finishing that semester.”

You clink cans, grinning as you take a hefty sip, sighing out contently as you already feel your nerves dissipate with the sweet promise of long restful days of sleeping, eating, and lounging.

Yeah right.

It’s like the universe had decided for you that you’ve had your fill of living out your best life as a human sloth and now you need to get back to being a useful member of society. And since you’re always in need for those few extra dollars, it’s no surprise you find yourself taking on more work shifts, no matter how soul draining it all is.

Do it for the money, you tell yourself, just do it for the money.

Besides, you further reason, you need a distraction or you’ll just find yourself perusing your social media threads which would lead to you being caught up in the hype for BTS’ first day of their North American leg of the tour. It’s fast approaching but at this point, you feel like you’ve gone through your stages of grief and had reached the inevitable acceptance — you’re not going to any of the stops and your only hope rests in the four small words at the very bottom of the official touring website.

You cash out the last of the customer standing in line, grateful to have a moment of peace where you can do something other than force a smile on your face and be overly polite and friendly. You walk over to the end of the cash counter where off to the side is a cart full of items that needed to be ticketed for clearance. It’s not the most exciting job, but after spending majority of your shifts on cash and nothing but cash you’re willing to take any job. So with a label gun in hand, you set to work on scanning the items and adjusting the numbers appropriately to make the correct price tags.

You’re halfway through the cart when you feel a sudden chill, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand and automatically you already know who this is. Your gaze whips around, trying to be subtle about it until a voice calls out to you from above.

“Right over here poppet.”

Your eyes land on the shelves behind you and situated at the very top on a sewing machine box, you find Jungkook peering down at you with his signature bunny grin. His mop of brown hair is a little unruly, leaving his front bangs to sweep over his forehead and he’s still dressed like one of the international students at your college — comfy but bougie as hell. Sighing, you continue with the task at hand, pretending he’s not there just so you won’t look crazy on camera.

“Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” He rebuttals, jumping down gracefully next to you despite those clumpy looking Balenciaga shoes he’s wearing (you swear you could kill someone if you threw it at them hard enough). You roll your eyes, already knowing what he’s insinuating when he says that.

“For the billionth time I’m not going; I thought we had this conversation already.”

“Well you can’t blame me for thinking you’ve got such a weak will.”

That causes you to shoot a glare his way and all he does is raise an eyebrow back at you, almost challengingly. It makes you let out a huff of frustration, going back to slapping the items with their pricing stickers a little too aggressively.

“Then what do you suggest I do? Summon another demon so they could be my doppleganger?”

“What? Oh no, that won’t do. Your soul is bound to Jimin so there’s possibly nothing you could offer in exchange for another demon’s service.” Jungkook brushes off your sarcastic rhetorical as if you had seriously asked. “Although you possibly could ask an incubus in exchange for sex….but I don’t think Jimin would be too happy with that…”

Jungkook successfully makes you blush at his offhanded comment, mind reeling and going off in places that they most definitely shouldn’t be going. You have to shake your head to rid of those thoughts, but that doesn’t stop your cheeks from burning still. Forcefully, you think about puppies and kittens and BT— No, no, the one time to not think of them.

Your hand pauses briefly and you turn to pin the brunette sitting on the counter beside you a hard stare. He’s lost in thought, actually considering all the ways that can possibly help you play hooky with your job. You’re a slight bit touched that he seems to care so much but at the same time, you think this is all completely unnecessary. Finally, after a few more minutes of pondering, he sighs out in a defeated manner.

“The only other option I can think of is finding a witch to clone you. But I heard their methods are highly unstable, usually a fifty-fifty chance in death or your clone going on a rampage to actually steal your identity so I don’t know if you’d be down with those odds.” Turning to you, he nods in serious affirmation. “I think the sex demon is your best bet, even if it’ll make Jimin a little mad.”

You choke on the air you harshly inhale, hand coming up to try and smother your coughing fit. By the time you’re able to breathe again without losing a lung, you have tears in your eyes from the exertion but that doesn’t stop you from throwing a narrowed eyed glare at Jungkook who’s watching on with an obviously amused smile.

“I am not doing that.” You wheeze.

“Why not? If it’s because of Jimin, then I’ll handle him for you.”

“No Jungkook, it’s not— “ You pause to kiss your teeth, agitated. “I’m not that desperate. Besides, I’ve already put my money on them adding additional dates after their first leg is over.”

It’s true, you’re not about to resort to shadier means to get what you want; point proven when you turned down even Jimin when he offered (and his method had way less strings attached than the one Jungkook is suggesting). Furthermore, what logic would that be if you refuse help from your own guardian demon only to turn around and accept help from someone else, much less another demon? He’s insufferable, the bane of your existence at times sure, but you can never imagine doing something like that to him, especially after all he’s done. The very suggestion makes your stomach churn unpleasantly — he doesn’t deserve that.

The young demon doesn’t say anything afterwards, just quietly stares at you in utter disbelief for what you think is an uncomfortably long amount of time before —

“You seriously would rather subject yourself to this capitalist slavery than take the chance of getting good demon di—“

The package you’re holding goes flying out of your hand before you can think about it (you think it’s a Disney Princess pink foam crown from the kids section). Jungkook narrowly dodges it with a swift lean of his head, impeccably wide eyes indicating that even he was caught off guard from your sudden display of speed. The item merely smacks against the edge of the computer monitor of the register, lightweight enough that you didn’t need to worry about getting fired for property damage but it didn’t go unnoticed by your manager on duty as not even a minute passes before your headset crackles with her concerned voice.

“Woah what happened there, Y/N? You okay?”

You fumble with your mic, face a raging inferno as you press down on the button to laugh nervously into. “Y-Yeah, no I just saw a spider and it freaked me out. That’s all!”

You get a laugh in return, “Oh yikes. Okay, understandable. Carry on!”

Jungkook’s snickering brings your attention back to him and you could only petulantly glare at him. Luckily, you didn’t have to continue bickering uselessly with him as over his shoulder, you see a few customers begin to stream into the queue line. With one last pointed look, you mutter quickly through gritted teeth.

“I am not going to the concert and I don’t need any of your scheming ways to make it happen otherwise.”

You see him roll his eyes before swiftly, you turn on your heels and scurry back over to your designated register to wave down the approaching customer to ring them up.

It’s just past three o’clock and noticeably the cafe starts to pick up with an influx of patrons. Evidently, being situated near the downtown area didn’t help either as every which street, the establishment is surrounded by towering office buildings. Whether it be just a single elevator trip down or just a walk across the street, everyone flocked to this cafe to get their caffeine fix or a quick bite to eat. The place drew in all sorts of people, which made for a very interesting place to people watch.

Now normally, Jimin wouldn’t be out so early in the day, preferring to wander the streets at night. That’s when all the greatest likes of people come out — well, ‘great’ in demon standards; the perfect hunting ground to secure more poor souls doomed to hell with all their scheming, ill-intent, self-destructive ways.

But, he thinks, a slow smile barely contained behind the rim of his coffee cup, it doesn’t take much to spot a potential victim, even with the rose-tinted glasses of daylight on. All you had to do was stop and look.

His dark eyes lock onto the figure seated in the far corner of the cafe, hunched over the laptop in front of her. From his vantage point, he could make out her features clearly — long dark hair falling in loose curls around her shoulders, framing a heart-shaped face, straight nose, full lips with a dainty cupid’s bow, and porcelain skin all make up this young face. She looked to be mid-twenties if Jimin had to guess and by the way she dressed so casually amongst the sea of business suits and blazers suggests she might possibly be a student or someone who just got out of school. At first glance, this girl was like any other face in the crowd — unassuming and made an effort to sticking to themselves, just like everybody else in this cafe.

Except Jimin can spot something shady going on a mile away, and this one was only a few tables.

Now as to exactly what, he’ll have to get a closer look to find out. So with one last sip from his cup, he uncrosses his legs and gets up to make his way over to the young lady’s table. He approaches with just a few long strides and though it takes her a moment to notice his presence, she still had to do a double take once her wide eyes landed on his face. It makes him smile, eyes creasing and when he sees her face flush pink, he knows he’s got her.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin starts, coming off bashful as he brings a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “This might seem really creepy but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around this cafe before and I’m a regular here.”

The girl barely recovers from her flustered state, shaky hands also coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She’s having a hard time maintaining eye contact with him and it only goads him on further, keeping his eyes on her and the ever sweet smile still present in an almost purposefully teasing way.

“O-Oh, uh, um yeah. I usually like to hang out in this other place but, I had errands to do around here so I just stopped here for a bit….” Her voice wavers with nerves but she clears her throat, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

“Ah, I see.” Jimin replies, feigning interest as he idly runs a hand through his new ash brown hair. “I’m glad you did, it’s a really nice place to come by — amazing coffee and in-house pastry. Have you tried them?”

The small talk continues with Jimin effortlessly getting her to let her guard down more and more until after an empty pastry plate and a latte later, he’s managed to settle himself comfortably in the seat in front of her sharing chuckles and names (Kim), her laptop long forgotten. Here, Jimin can really take in the details of her person; the Chanel t-shirt peeking out from underneath her windbreaker that’s definitely not a knockoff, the Cartier necklace with it’s dainty charm sitting at the base of her throat, the Hermes bangle that gives off a lustrous shine whenever she brings her slender hand up to cover her mouth as she laughs along with the rose gold diamond Rolex watch.

Either she’s got a nice honest paying job, or she’s getting her funds by….other means.

“That’s a really nice watch you have there; Rolex?” Jimin asks, smoothly taking Kim’s hand into his to inspect the watch clasped onto her wrist. He pretends to admire it, completely ignoring the way she blushes.

“Yeah, got it not too long ago.”

“Lovely taste.” He lets go, making sure to linger in his touch. Kim appreciates the gesture, smiling coyly as she slowly takes her hand back. Amidst the chatter of the cafe, a chime followed by a buzz draws the girl’s attention to her phone placed off on the side. Kim takes it into her hand, unlocking before scrolling through it with hasty fingers. She looks up after a few moments later, regret reflecting in her brown irises.

“Hey, I gotta get going. Maybe we could grab coffee again some other time….?”

Jimin hears the way she lets the question hang and it only makes him grin. Regardless, he takes out his phone and Kim eagerly exchanges numbers with him (even sending him a text to make sure it goes through correctly). Once she’s satisfied, she packs her laptop into a sleeve and puts on her Gucci crossbody over her shoulder.

“I’ll see you around Julien.” Kim beams, walking off with a noticeable pep in her step. He watches her go with an easy smile and to onlookers, they might’ve pinned him for a poor sap who’s become infatuated by the girl he’s just met in his favourite coffee shop — a plot straight out of a romance novel. Oh, if only they knew; how funny would it be when they realize that this angelic smile hid a demon who’s just found his next prey.

Glancing down at his phone, his eyes read over the name of the poor girl who’s about to have karma bite her in the ass. Kim, he thinks with a dark chuckle, just what kind of dark secret are you hiding behind your own innocent smile?

He’ll look forward to finding out.

“Hey, are you working tomorrow?”

You’re in the break room, pulled out from your reveries (what you actually mean is dissociating) by the small chime of your phone signalling a text message. It’s Jaehee and you take a pause on reading her question to think of your answer, mentally going through your work schedule that you’ve gleaned over earlier today before coming into your shift. You don’t remember much but you do know you are working, just not sure whether it would be a short early shift or a closing one again. You hope that it’s not the latter. The very thought makes you shudder.

“Yeah I am. Why what’s up?” You shoot back and no sooner had the message been sent, you get one in return.

“Uhh? Your birthday….??”

Oh shit really? You think to yourself, shocked. You pull up the calendar on your phone and see that yes, your birthday is indeed tomorrow. The revelation has you dazed for a second, wondering where the time went.

“Oh wow, LOL. I didn’t even realize….”

“Girl…. We need to do something for your birthday!

We could do something like head out for dinner and a couple of drinks.”

“That sounds good, but I can’t remember if I’m closing or not :|

I’ll have to double check to make sure.”

“Okay, either way, let me know what the plan is and we work something out!”

“Yeah, will do :)” 

You say that but honestly, planning something for your birthday was the last thing on your mind. You would even go as far as to say that you don’t really care anymore. It sounds a lot more depressing than it really is because you think that most people reach that point about certain ages don’t they? When all of your friends’ schedules match up only once in a blue moon, too busy with the grind or other commitments that meeting up at all, let alone for someone’s birthday, is good enough.

Ugh.

You unconsciously frown, wanting to shake your thoughts off on the topic by pulling up your social media apps. Out of instincts, your thumb taps onto Twitter and you’re only greeted by your feed being filled up by huge banners and pictures of the BTS tour and how tickets for their next stop will promptly go on sale tomorrow at 3PM.

Wow.

It’s like the universe just said ‘fuck you’ to your face; tickets are going on sale on your birthday and you can’t even go. You must be the most unluckiest fan alive right now. What’s worse is that it’s for the next neighbouring city to you, and theoretically, your last chance to cave in.

No, no, you shake your head. You need to stop doing that — you’ve made your peace with this already, and the wanting feeling just resurfaced because you’ve been smacked in the face with it. You exit out of the app quickly and stand, shoving your mobile into your back pocket as you start to head back out of the break room to continue your shift. You dread every step of the way because today, you’re part of the closing team and with the warming weekend weather, people tend to want to hang out longer.

Which is, much to you and your co-workers chagrin, what ends up happening. You spend the next five to ten precious minutes past closing urging straggler shoppers to get the fuck out in the most politest way so that you could all finally start cleaning. So of course by the time you’re done and with no mischievous demon by the name of Jungkook around this time to cause any excuse to leaving early otherwise, you all get out way past the appointed end shift time.

You hurry to the bus stop after a hasty goodnight, eager to get home. Thankfully, you only wait around five minutes before the bus shows up and you get on, not bothering to take a seat for the short three stop ride even though there were plenty of empty seats for your picking. You can’t deny that you’re a little bit antsy, commuting at night alone always manages to do that for you even when you make it to your stop without any incident.

It’s okay, you think as you hastily make your way down the street, you’re nearly there and it’ll be fine the rest of the way.

You don’t stop to think about the logic of your thought just now because by no means are you anywhere near your house yet, let alone your street. You still had about a block left before you meet —

Oh.

You slow your power walking down to let out a huff of disbelief at yourself. You did not just seriously….

You sigh deeply, too tired to mentally battle it out with yourself about denying the fact that you find Jimin’s routine meet up on your night shifts gave you comfort and security on the trip home — that extra peace of mind. Not saying that you’d be completely crippled if he wasn’t there but… It's nice to have him walking beside you like a shadow that shielded you from any creeps way scarier than any demon you’ve met so far and… he makes the night a lot more enjoyable to be in.

Holy shit, you must be tired as hell because you did not just think that into existence. Your cheeks are heating up on their own and you had to give yourself a light smack to dispel any further thoughts of that nature from developing. At least there was one saving grace about it all; no one was around to witness any of this.

With that, you focus back on trucking along, heart hammering from your exertion or your anticipation, you’re not quite sure. Either way, your pace picks up when you see the beginnings of your street corner come into view. Usually, Jimin would be there just before you make the turn and from there, you’d both walk back the rest of the way, past the convenience store with the dumpster and flickering street light.

So when you round the corner —

Your feet falter, finding no one.

You slow until you stop completely, more concentrated on trying to spot his familiar lean figure that’s always dressed to the nines but somehow always look effortless but after double checking (triple checking, in case your eyes are really that bad) you find no one; not a single soul.

A weight suddenly drops into the pit of your stomach and for a moment, you’re at a loss of what to do. Should you wait around to see if he shows up with the off chance that he's late today? Or should you just power on through? Your gaze shifts to the street ahead of you and it’s like the darkness and the scattering of lights elongate to an endless pathway leading into an inky abyss. You lick your lips that had gone dry, taking in a shaky breath in an attempts to gather yourself but with one glance around your surroundings, you decide firmly that there was no way you were gonna hang around here longer than you need to, not when you know how notorious the store corner could get with its less-than-savoury visitors. You feel a bubble of irritation begin to swell inside you but you crush it in favour of wanting to get home as fast as you can.

So with a swallow, you take off in a power walk, shoulders hunched and legs burning with the strain you put with how quick of a pace you’ve set for yourself. Your hammering heart only accelerates once you come upon the twenty-four hour convenience store, the same one you got harassed by before Jimin showed up in the nick of time. The grip you have on your bag strap tightens as with a quick flit of your eyes, you find that the corner with the dumpster just behind the store is not occupied for once by anyone, at least from what you can see. You don’t bother to confirm if it’s true or not, taking full advantage of this bit of luck as you practically barrel past it, almost breaking out into a run just to get by. Once you do, you race the rest of the way up your front door steps and with a few fumbles of the keys in shaky, adrenaline-filled hands you fall through the doorway, the breath you didn’t realize you were holding comes out in one big whoosh.

You take a moment to stand there, breathing in deeply to calm yourself before eventually, move away from your threshold, locking the door and slipping off your shoes. Trudging to your bedroom, you don’t bother to flick the lights on as you blindly move about to grab your pyjamas, flinging your bag and heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

You hit the bed with a thump, thankful to be in its warm sheets but still feeling slightly miffed, mind racing to try and come up with some logical reason as to why Jimin wasn’t there tonight. You toss and turn for a bit but then come to a screeching halt halfway through it; he never explicitly said he would walk you home whenever you had a night shift, he sort of…started doing it on his own and you just never questioned it. Then somewhere along the way, you assumed it became an unspoken promise between you two — something that didn’t need an explanation and something that you grew to look forward to so to have it come to an abrupt stop…

You sigh out, flipping to your side and curling up on yourself, feeling ridiculous and still very much restless; guess you’re not going to sleep tonight and you hate how it’s because of how fixated you are on your guardian demon. Since when did you become someone who got so hung up on stupid small things like this? He’s his own being, a demon who roams the night freely and without fear doing what he does best; get people to make stupid decisions.

But he could’ve at least sent you a text.

You actually grab your own mobile, the light blinding you for a second as you pull up his message thread. The last text you sent each other was during your house viewing with Jaehee. Confronted with the option now, your fingers itch to send off a passive-aggressive text to him, letting him know that you made it home safely without his help thanks for asking—

You blink and suddenly the message is typed out in the box, ready for you to hit send. It takes you a second to register what you had done and it makes you backspace immediately in horror. No, you won’t be like this, can’t be like this, because does it even make sense for you to?

You grab the calico plushie with more strength than you mean to and smash your face against its soft body to drown a groan and the sinking feeling in your chest. That’s it, you’re stopping right there and you are going to sleep and forget about this all because if you don’t you’ll just give yourself a headache and lose out on sleep needlessly. You fling your phone to the ends of your bed for good measures.

Who cares about Jimin, you certainly don’t.

The girl in front of him throws her head back to laugh, hand covering her mouth to retain some modesty and keep up her appearances as being a ‘proper lady’. He doesn’t entirely care in that, nor the high spun tale he’s conjured up that caused her to laugh; it’s all pretences to him. Still, he plays his part, smiling behind the rim of his whiskey glass as he watches her with twinkling eyes full of mischief until she calms down, fanning herself lightly.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe that happened to you — on your first trip to Bali too.”

Jimin could only offer her a bemused shrug, placing his glass down on the table to cross his legs. “Guess that’s what you call life huh?”

Kim giggles, taking a sip of her own drink as well too before reclining back into the plush black leather booth seat. When she had suggested that they grab coffee again some time, this wasn’t exactly the first thing that Jimin had in mind. Though to be fair, he should’ve figured with the text she sent him, asking if he was free two days later from their initial meeting to come out at a time that’s way too late to be having coffee and at an establishment he swears didn’t exactly serve coffee. A ritzy place, dimly lit by warm lights from the crystal chandeliers hanging above each round table with a colour scheme of black, white and dark cherry wood. Not exactly a place your average Joe would pick for a date, not unless he wanted his wallet to bleed dry but luckily neither of them need to bother looking at the menu in the first place.

She makes show of that by refilling her glass of expensive wine, not caring how her dulled senses manhandles the bottle slightly, putting it down with a little too much added force. It makes her giggle sheepishly, ducking her head because the noise seems to rattle the entirety of the upscale bar, the soft jazz music no way helping to mask it. Jimin chortles and Kim flushes pinker than she already is under her foundation.

“So,” Jimin starts coolly, “How about yourself? Got any juicy stories you wanna share?”

Kim places her glass after sip down gently this time, licking her painted lips that had the slightest tinge of the darker berry colour to them now. She tilts her head to ponder, pouting but then smiles with a shrug.

“I don’t think any of mine would top yours to be honest.”

“Oh really? Nothing at all?”

“I’m positive.” She laughs, “I feel like all I do on trips is lay around, sun bathe, and eat and drink expensive wine.”

Jimin nods in understanding, reaching out to take a swig of his whiskey again. Throughout the night, he and Kim had talked about things that one typical does during a ‘date’ — work, hobbies, friends, families, the likes. Very mundane and nothing to be too concerned about, only what Kim doesn’t know is that the more she talks about herself, the more Jimin is beginning to get a good idea as to what sort of secret life she’s hiding. From what he gathered, she’s a recent college graduate majoring in marketing, lived alone in an apartment, and worked for a company that was getting their big break-through in expanding.

Doesn’t seem at all suspicious but considering the state of the economy, either Kim is one lucky girl or she’s obviously getting her funds somewhere else. No student straight out of college would be able to afford the luxury items Kim seems to so whole-heartedly indulge in, even with a decent paying job. Perhaps a sugar daddy? No, she’s out here seeing him isn’t she? A wealthy family then who funds everything for her?

There are still pieces missing to this puzzle and Jimin needs to find out more. Unfortunately for him, Kim downs the rest of her wine with a sense of finality and he already knows before she opens her mouth that she was planning on calling it a night.

“I think I’m done with my fill of merlot. Any more and I feel like you would have to carry me out and that’s not exactly how I want to end my night with you.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” Jimin grins wolfishly and that causes a bout of giggles to bubble from Kim’s lips. As she’s distracted, Jimin waves down the waiter to pay the bill, swiping his card and signing off the receipt before getting up from his seat. He waits patiently as Kim gathers her things but as she gets up, she tips a little too heavily to one side that Jimin had to steady her by the shoulder. The brunette laughs breathlessly, leaning into him as Jimin smiles while guiding her out of the upscale bar with a hand on the small of her back.

The night is a lot warmer compared to the last few, but of course that doesn’t stop Kim from clinging to Jimin’s arms like there was a biting breeze nipping at her skin, heeled footsteps echoing loudly against the asphalt. She also takes the liberty to direct him to round the side of the building where a small space reserved for parking was. Jimin’s quick to catch on as he glances down at Kim’s still flushed and smiley face with a quirked eyebrow.

“Do you intend to drive home like this?”

Immediately, she whips her glazed eyes upwards, widened in shock and pouts petulantly at him, seemingly offended by his assumptions. “Julien! I’m not that stupid. I just wanna make sure I didn’t leave anything important in there before I call an Uber.”

Jimin chuckles good-heartedly, bringing up a hand in a placating manner. “Sorry, sorry. People tend to be a poor of judge under the influence but it’s good to see that you’re one of the smarter ones.”

Unfortunately.

It would be so easy for Jimin to just whisper into her ear and convince her that she’s totally fine to drive home. Then, all he had to do was watch her drive off and not even a block down, she’d run a red light, get T-boned and he can dust his hands off with another job well done. The idea is tantalizing but no, he’s long since been tired of a successful hunt that lacked any thrill. Which is why when they both reach Kim’s car (a sleek black BMW M5), Jimin turns to her with a well-placed charming smile.

“How about I make it up to you on that last comment? I’ll drive you home.”

Kim pauses mid-push of unlocking her car, throwing a rather dubious look over her shoulder at him. Jimin holds his ground, steadfast in keeping up the non-threatening facade, posture relaxed even as she turns to face him squarely, leaning back heavily against her ride with an impressive piercing gaze. He senses the cogs in her head working, no doubt weighing the pros and cons of accepting his offer. Before he could let the doubts fester, Jimin speaks, voice lilting with an irresistibly smooth velvet finish.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to say yes. I just wanted to make sure you got home safe is all.”

His eyes flare a deep crimson so quickly that to Kim’s slightly muddled mind, it appeared to only be the trick of the light. Jimin sees the effects of his words take hold of her, and after a few minutes, Kim loses the tenseness of her shoulders, looking at him in a new light.

“I mean, if it won’t be too much trouble for you…”

And like that, she’s entangled herself more into his spider’s web. Jimin smiles, eyes creasing up in a very pleased way. It makes Kim smile in return for all the wrong reasons as she her keys off to him. He strides towards her, taking it from her grasp before unlocking the doors and opening the passenger one for her. She ducks into her seat and Jimin shuts it firmly once she’s settled in before rounding around the car to get into the driver’s seat.

As expected, the interior of the car was black, crisp leather interlaid with dark burgundy polished wood for the dashboard and for a second, he could pick up the faintest whiff of the new car smell still lingering around. The smile widens on Jimin’s lips as he glances over at the owner who’s buckling in her seatbelt. She feels his eyes on her and when she turns, she grins coquettishly.

“What?”

“It’s a very nice car.”

Kim preens at the compliment, leaning over to whisper, “I know.”

It makes Jimin chuckle, adjusting his seat and the steering wheel before fastening his own seatbelt. Once he’s comfortable, he hits the start-push button and the car hums to life.

The drive to Kim’s place was filled with more small talk about the passing neighbourhoods and other fancy eating places she hints at for potential future ‘dates’ — none of which interests Jimin. What does however, is the directions she’s giving him albeit in her now drunken sleepy state. She leads him out of the upscale part of the city where all the new high-rises and penthouse suite condos were gathered in favour of an older looking neighbourhood. The apartment buildings begin to look visibly aged, the colour scheme falling into the more rustic ash brown and not as lustrous or modern as the others they had just passed. It reminds him of where you live; modest, not-as-flashy but still well kept neighbourhood. They’re still in way better shape than some of the neighbourhoods Jimin has seen that’s for sure but in this case, it was not a place Jimin had pictured a someone like Kim who seems to live and breathe luxury to be living in.

But Kim only confirms her residencies here when she directs Jimin to an underground parking garage that was connected to one of these bricked apartment buildings. He can’t help quirking an eyebrow at her as he pulls up to the yellow plastic gate right next to the security speaker box.

“We’re at the right place right?” The teasing overtone of his question hides the backhandedness of it (but he thinks Kim wouldn’t notice anyways, given her state).

“Hm?” Kim turns from staring out her window, dazed for a moment at his remark before she seems to realize where she is. She flushes pink, clearly flustered as she stutters. “O-Oh! It’s just temporary….I’m actually moving soon.”

Jimin hums noncommittally, rolling down the window in order to speak to the building security to let them through the gate with Kim telling him that all he needs to say is that he’s a visitor, her full name and floor she’s living on. It works because the yellow gate lifts and he’s allowed to drive the rest of the way in, entering the garage as it opens and after more instructions, finds her designated parking spot. Jimin parks the car, shutting the engine off as he unfastens himself to exit, making quick work of rounding to Kim’s side to open her door. He even offers her his hand.

She smiles at the gesture, gladly taking it to haul herself up and out of her seat.

“And here I thought chivalry was dead.”

Jimin shrugs, “Guess I’m pretty old-fashioned.”

Kim tilts back with a bubbly laugh, swaying too much to where Jimin had to hold her hand a little more firmly to keep her from tipping back and falling over. In doing so though, Kim laces her fingers through his and brings herself closer, pressing up against his chest and forcing him to tilt his head down in order to look her in the face.

“I had a really great time tonight Julien.” Her voice rasps, the proximity lets her lips brush slightly against his own whenever she speaks. “And thank you so much for driving me home when you didn’t have to….”

Ah, here it comes.

“Is there anything I can do? Get you an Uber or maybe….?”

Jimin can’t stifle the smirk that creeps up on his lips, amusement dancing in his dark eyes as he slowly turns the tables on Kim. He brings up their joined hands, only to release himself from her grip to press her back against her car, letting his freed hand cage her instead. She doesn’t resist, so pliant under Jimin’s manipulation that he swears she’s enjoying the attention she’s getting from him. Does she think that she’s got him right where she wanted?

Cute….but not quite.

No, right now, Jimin’s motives are far from aligning with Kim’s despite her thinking otherwise. His plan is simple; get her to invite him up to her apartment, maybe let her have her way for a bit before he puts her out, snoop around to his heart’s content and when he’s found what he needs, disappear like a shadow in the night and let a demon’s karma do its part.

So he takes the bait.

“I think that whiskey is starting to get into my head a little….”

And that’s all Kim needs.

In a fitting whirlwind romance (Jimin uses that term very ironically), the steps of his plans were enacted and Kim is out like a light before she could even finish unbuttoning his shirt — using pressure points is one way to spice things up in the bedroom he supposes. A lot of other demons would give Jimin flak for not indulging in some added bonus fun while on a ‘hunt’ but he’s a demon of taste, and there’s something else hot and steamy that he’s after.

With Kim knocked out into a deep sleep, it makes for rifling through her stuff easy as pie. In the darkness of her room, he spies numerous amounts of name brand clothing strewn about on her dresser and floor. On the handle of her door and even by the foot of her bed, there were bags of different sizes, shapes and colour. Everything seems so disorganized and just thrown about that Jimin thinks the only clean space is her queen size bed and to a certain degree, vanity table which is where he heads towards as he spots her MacBook. It sits asleep on the counter surrounded by various bottles of perfume and lipsticks, organized by colour and brand.

He wastes no time opening the laptop, bypassing her password with ease, immediately diving into the most recent folders. It doesn’t take long for Jimin to start finding some….interesting things. First off was a folder, simply named ‘E-Pics’ that was dedicated to, of all things, concert e-tickets. There were around five of them, all from two shows that had played recently in the city. Jimin doesn’t recognize the names of the artist but he thinks it’s rather strange for someone to have saved pictures of e-tickets when there’s an app for that. Was Kim a secretly sentimental type of person….?

Highly unlikely, Jimin thinks so he continues digging, clicking away until….

A slow smile hooks at the corner of his mouth as his eyes scan over these newly discovered files. At a glance, they look exactly like the tickets in the previous folder but when Jimin fiddles around with the image a bit more, he spots the alterations in them, hidden in plain sight.

Forgery, and good enough that Jimin’s mildly impressed. If they had a course in college for that, he would’ve believed Kim would graduate at the top of her class.

This new information sends a newfound thrum of giddiness running through him and he wonders gleefully what other incriminating things Kim is hiding in other places. Perhaps her phone? Without a second thought, he closes the laptop and then heads out of her room.

He slinks out into Kim’s open space apartment with soundless footsteps. It’s on the small side and not much goes into these spaces other than her bedroom. There was an attempt though, hints of times Jimin could imagine the young woman would spontaneously have in trying to decorate her home from the colour coordinated throw cushions. It’s like she tried to go for a colour scheme but then quickly realized that she’d rather invest in her money in name brand handbags and shoes.

He picks one of them up on the couch; her clutch from tonight tossed aside carelessly in favour of trying to ravish him as soon as they made it through the doorway. Pretty thing, but the worth of the clutch doesn’t interest him so much as what’s inside it and reaching in, he easily pulls out her mobile phone. It lights up as soon as he hits the home button but when he goes to bypass her lock, he hesitates.

Blaring in his face is the time — 2:43AM.

Was it really that late already? The phone lays momentarily forgotten in his hand as he wonders how he hadn’t noticed the time flying by so fast. Unconsciously, he furrows his brows as another thought crosses his mind.

You should be home by now….right? Wait, you had a closing shift today didn’t you?

Shit.

Jimin reaches a hand into his pocket to pull out his own phone, bringing up your message thread to not find a single peep from you since your open house visit with Jaehee. Of course you wouldn’t, he knows you — stubborn as a mule and he swears if you had gotten stabbed, you would convince yourself that it’s not that serious only because you wouldn’t want to trouble anyone.

….Shit.

His hand travels to linger over his chest as if it had a mind of its own as his becomes completely lost in thought. Jimin didn’t feel any disturbances or distress that usually comes when your emotions flare, so it should mean that you were okay. But what are the possibilities that you simply didn’t have the time to react, too caught off guard to call out to him if you needed help?

Jimin exhales heavily through his nose in frustration, a hand combing through his hair as he glances down at Kim’s phone to see a few more minutes have passed and that now he had a choice to make; continue his search here for more information to blackmail Kim or abandon that possibility altogether. Fingers tap idly as the demon weighs his options and the more he stares at the phone, the more his mind screams at him to take just one peek, she’s fine.

….

Damn it.

He shoves Kim’s phone and all it’s garish pink glittery case glory back into her clutch before flinging it back onto the couch as if it were a dollar store pencil case. With long strides, he heads to the door but instead of going through it, he feels the familiar tug of apparating to another location and he finds himself at the head of your street. It’s relatively quiet when his senses readjust to his surroundings, the only sounds he picks up are the faint chirps of crickets and the occasional passing of a car way down at the other end of the road. He doesn’t see you nor anyone for that matter and he’s not sure whether that’s a good sign or a bad one. Still, he holds out on the belief that you’ve made it home all right.

So methodically, Jimin stalks forward, dark eyes narrowed to scan even the darkest corners for anything that might seem amiss, things that ordinary human beings don’t see. When he doesn’t pick up anything that raises any concerns, he makes another leap in location and this time, he ends up directly in your bedroom. The soft carpeted floor helps muffle his black Chelsea boots as he lands, but his attention immediately goes to your bed and without meaning to, he sighs, a tenseness he wasn’t even aware of dissipating from within him.

He sees the clear outline of your form under the covers, the rhythmic rise and fall of your breathing as you slumber and as he steps closer, almost feels the warmth of your body. The tops of your head just pokes out from where its rests on your pillow, hair spilling over messily but overall, you do not appear hurt. But as he continues to assess you, he notices the way you’ve curled in on yourself in spite of not having any shortage of room on your mattress, making you appear small and clutched to your chest was your beloved plush cat. Its face is squished by how hard you hold it against yourself but nevertheless, its cartoonish cat smile still peeked through its distorted face.

There’s a twinge that erupts in his chest, so sudden that he exhales sharply out of surprise. He reaches a hand up to his chest again, brows furrowed, where his heart beats and wonders in mild disbelief if something was wrong with it. Its never done something like that before, the only thing coming close was when you felt intense fear or anger. But you’re sound asleep, as quiet as a mouse. He stands there for a good minute trying to decipher this anomaly before he huffs, tearing his gaze away from you as he runs a hand through his hair frustrated.

Maybe he’d just imagined it, or there’s a glitch with this vessel. Either way, he pushes it to the back of his mind, focusing his attention to your discarded phone at the ends of your bed. He chortles under his breath, shaking his head — what is he going to do with you? Grabbing the phone, he gently places it on your bedside table (where it belongs) and settles himself into your desk chair, eyes sliding shut in a semi-meditative state. He’s lost out on one curiosity for the night, but at least the satisfaction of this one has made up for it.

You wake with an ache in your lower back that leaves you taking an extra fifteen minutes just to get out of bed without groaning or joints cracking. Doesn’t help that your phone goes off incessantly with messages from your friends wishing you a happy birthday. You smile to yourself though, thanking them each and even commenting how you woke up with a sore back, really feeling the aging kick in already.

Eventually, you drag yourself to the bathroom in a half daze and even after washing up you feel like you want to lie back down again, the comforter looks so invitingly warm still. But you resist the urge, knowing well that if you do give in, you’ll not get back up and that’s not something you want to do before going to your shift later on in the day.

What you didn’t know when you stepped into the kitchen is that it was already occupied by a certain demon that you had expected to see last night but didn’t. You visibly jerk at his appearance, taken aback at how casual he looks leaning against the counter, a mug of black coffee resting in his hand as he scrolls through his phone, the natural light of the afternoon sun highlighting the strands of hair falling in messy coordination over his forehead in a newly dyed ashen brown colour. The level of nonchalant coolness that he so effortlessly exudes is infuriating the more you stare at him because it’s so not fair for him to look this good, in fact, the only reason why he’s able to look this good is because he’s wearing another attractive person’s face but what’s really bullshit is that he’s still able to make your heart trip over itself when he’s only just pretending!

“You know you’ll see yourself to an early grave if you wake up already stressed like that darling.”

And the nerve!

You scoff, brushing past him to grab your own mug for a morning (technically afternoon now) tea. You move about to get your teabag, sugar and cream, all the while something starts to fester inside of you, instantly souring whatever good mood you had earlier. It leaves you slowly feeling irritated, restless and its not because of your earlier grievances with the demon. No, you know it’s that old wound you’re trying to stubbornly ignore from last night until the early hours of morning and it seems like now, in the presence of its cause, it's begun to itch again. Doesn’t help that when you glance over at your guardian demon, he’s busy once again with his phone, typing away and just the barest hint of a smile on his face. You scowl before you can help yourself, turning away to angrily sip on your tea in hopes of letting the warm liquid calm you down — it doesn’t. So you resort to placing down your mug, deciding on making peanut butter toast in order to distract yourself, even if you weren’t particularly hungry for it.

“Why so quiet cherub?”

You shoot him a look but brush off your underlying annoyance with an indifferent shrug, going back to opening the fridge to grab bread. “Just tired.” He shifts his weight from one hip to the other when you pull out a slice to pop into the toaster and you fight your hardest to ignore his eyes on you.

“Got home late from your shift…?”

The mention of last night pricks a nerve in you and you nearly throw the bag of bread back into the fridge with an unnecessary amount of force, only holding back by opting to grip the handle of the fridge until your hands are straining instead. You draw in a heaving breath under your nose as you slam the fridge door shut, not trusting yourself in speaking because you won’t be able to keep the seething out of your words. So you choose to hum — a short and clipped sound.

You hear the toaster spring up and you’re bustling about again in order to ignore him. In doing so, you miss the way he’s still watching you and the faint curl of his lips. Oh how tempting you look to tease, his natural instincts threatening to overtake him and he actually gives in to some experimental prodding. Jimin sidles up to your side as you’re scraping generous amounts of peanut butter onto your toast and his proximity catches your attention briefly, eyes flitting to him before they stubbornly fixate back onto your task. He cocks his head at you but you refuse to acknowledge him and it makes his smile creep wider. Then, he decides to lean in, past your comfort zone until you’re hunching your shoulders up, no longer able to keep him bay with how he’s literally breathing down your neck.

“What do you want?” You snap, stepping back to distance yourself. He only gives you a Cheshire grin in return, making you bristle.

“Just say you missed me darling and I’ll make it up to you I promise.” His teasing lilt drifts through the small kitchen and you blanche, screwing the lid of the peanut butter jar violently back on.

“I think you need to get your head out of your ass.” You retort through gritted teeth. He throws his head back to laugh, clearly amused and unfazed by your sour mood. When you swiftly turn on your heels away from him to toss the butter knife into the sink, toast shoved into your mouth, he steps in front of you, almost causing you to bump into him. You glower, a passing thought of wanting to smear the excess peanut butter into his stupidly expensive Saint Laurent t-shirt but he’s caught your hand in his like he’s read your mind.

“Don’t be such a sourpuss cherub, you could’ve called me if you wanted to see me that badly.”

Your cheeks redden traitorously at the suggestion, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his pillowy lips and you have no choice but to tear your toast from your mouth with your free hand to chew on a piece unless you wanted to choke, mumbling incoherently and refusing to make eye contact. As you try to pull your other hand away from him, his grip tightens a fraction to hold you in place but at this point, you’re quickly growing tired of this mental game. You honestly don’t know yourself why you’re choosing to be so petty when Jimin didn’t even violate the contract of keeping you out of harms way because there was no harm to begin with. God, what are you doing….

Your shoulders slump, drained as you deflate and your sudden withdrawal takes even Jimin by surprise.

“It’s fine Jimin; I got home alright so just forget it.” This time, your hand slips away from his easily and he lets you slink by him after depositing the dirtied knife into the sink. Even after you’ve pattered off into your room again, Jimin remains in the kitchen, silently watching you go, that peculiar twinge coming back again.

“Julien?….Julien?”

He blinks, knocked out of his stupor but he recovers so seamlessly that it’s as if he hadn’t been spacing out at all. Jimin turns his gaze back to the girl in front of him then, a benign smile gracing his handsome features.

“Sorry, I just had a thought…. You were saying Kim?”

The pretty brunette giggles breathlessly. “I was just saying how you have an impressive….recovery rate but I feel like I might’ve spoken too soon. Anyways,” She places her coffee cup back down on the saucer, “who am I to talk when I passed out on you last night — again, I’m so sorry about that.”

Subtly, Jimin’s jaw ticks though he conceals it with another smile and a carefully placed hand. “Not at all Kim, though at the time it was worrisome…. Like you just died on me.”

That pulls another bout of giggles from Kim, “Oh, it’ll take more than that. I’ll make it up to you I promise.” She throws in a playful wink to which Jimin accepts in feigned interest.

“I look forward to it.”

The rest of the ‘date’ is too boring for Jimin to recall as he spends most of his time drowning Kim’s ramblings and more focused on how he’s going to get her drunk again so he could rifle through her phone, get what he needs and then let karma do its thing. But more over, his thoughts keep straying back to you. You’re probably at work right now, an afternoon shift that had started maybe an hour or so after he’d left the house although he knows for sure you don’t close today which means he doesn’t have to worry about getting too carried away with this little project of his but at this rate, he doesn’t think he can bear a moment longer with this bland, materialistic woman any—

“Oh my God, is it already that time?”

His monotonous hum comes out automatically in response before the words can register but as soon as they do, his eyes finally focus on Kim for the first time in an hour. She’s scrolling through her phone, brows furrowed in concentration and then furiously typing away on it. Jimin’s curiosity piques with a raised eyebrow and he leans over the table in between them.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh no, it’s just…” Kim’s struggles with focusing on Jimin while still trying to do whatever it is on her phone that’s got her so frantic. Her body rises as if to get up and it makes Jimin follow suit. She shoots him an apologetic look, glancing down one last time at her phone and Jimin barely catches a glimpse of a countdown. “There’s something really important I have to do.”

“Oh, what is it if I may ask?”

“There’s a concert happening soon and I really want to get tickets for.”

Oh?

A serpentine smile pulls at the corners of his lips and Jimin’s eyes seem to come to life — now she’s speaking his language. He draws his face in to play the part; concerned and eager to help.

“Oh really? Are they hard to get?”

She takes the bait beautifully, rolling her eyes with a ragged sigh as she settles back into her chair. “Oh my God, you have no idea. It’s like winning the lottery I swear.”

“Wow, sounds impossible….” Jimin comments offhandedly, lowering himself back into his seat again. “Maybe I could…help?”

Kim perks up at the idea, the hopeful gleam in her eyes palpable that it nearly makes Jimin snort. She chews on her bottom lip, conflicted and right when Jimin’s about to sway her into temptation, her eyes meet the ticking timer on her phone browser reaching to t-minus three minutes. It’s enough to make her hasty decision and Kim wastes no time instructing Jimin to take his phone out, download the appropriate app and search for the show that she so desperately wants to get tickets for — enough to seal her fate with a demon out of her own volition at that!

So you could only imagine the surprise Jimin had when her directed search lands on—

“Love Yourself Tour? By BTS?”

“Yes that one.”

Seven hells there was no way.

Oh this was just too good.

The laughter starts bubbling rapidly in his chest, so much so that when he tries to lower his head to quell it it doesn’t work. It ruptures into a chuckle, shoulders shaking and before he knew it, he’s sinking back into his chair, head thrown back and a poor attempt to cover up the sounds of his cackling with his hand over his mouth. No doubt the entire cafe has eyes on their table but Jimin doesn’t care because his sides are killing him and he’s about to cry literal tears from trying to reel himself in — he only succeeds in folding in on himself and emitting occasional squeaks.

When he rights himself finally, wiping away at the corners of his eyes he catches sight of Kim who’s giving him a look that nearly sends him into another fit again. He barely manages by clearing his throat and glancing away, breathing deeply before answering her unspoken question.

“Sorry, just— I’ve actually heard of them before so it explains why it’s so hard to get tickets for their show.”

Kim’s face breaks into a smile, still nonplussed by his outburst but nodding in solidarity. “Yeah, so if you manage to get tickets — good ones — I might just think you’re a God.”

Satan, this girl might actually kill him instead.

He waves her off, cheeks aching and Jimin is actually thankful when the countdown on his phone reaches zero and Kim reverts back into a rather serious demeanour, eyes lasering in on her phone as she furiously taps away at it. She lets out a loud gasp within the next few minutes, causing Jimin to look up.

“I’m behind 105 people! I think I might be able to do this! What about you?”

With a quick glance, Jimin reads, “100.”

The brunette’s eyes alight instantly, mouth falling open. “Oh my God, you might actually get in!”

He shrugs in return, feigning indifference. Secretly, however, Jimin knows very well that his chances of getting these golden tickets were high — way higher than Kim’s and not just because he’s ahead of her by five people but more importantly…..

As the agonizing wait of watching the little man run at a glacier pace, Jimin takes the opportunity to strike up a conversation.

“So, I didn’t think you were a fan of BTS.”

Kim tears her away from her phone momentarily, the wrinkle in her nose is all the answer Jimin needs. “Oh no, I don’t even know them like that — I just heard they were a huge deal, like really popular right now.”

Jimin already figures because Kim would’ve at least recognized him or remarked on how eerily similar he looks to one of the band members but this is just a segue to what Jimin really wants to get at from her. “Oh, then why are you trying to get tickets for their show?”

He catches the way she swallows nervously, eyes flitting to him briefly and there’s that bout of hesitation again. The smile is back on his face, disarming and with just enough sincerity that it convinces Kim that he won't judge. She glances around as if to make sure they weren’t being heard in their little booth corner before leaning towards him, voice coming out in a hush.

“Okay so, me and a friend have been doing this thing on the side where we buy tickets to really high demand shows and reselling them for higher prices. It’s honestly such good money when you come across big name artists that have crazy huge fanbases — like BTS.” She pauses to look down at her phone, keeping track of her little running man. “My friend got two P1 tickets to their show last year for $250 each and she resold them for $1,110, each!”

Jimin leans back as if impressed, throwing in a low whistle for effect. “Wow — that’s…pretty good.”

“I know right? The only problem is is that they’re so hard to get. Even though the average seats will still bring in good money, you get way better profit with GA or P1 seats.”

He nods along, looking contemplative but Kim’s gone back to her phone once again, this time, looking rather excited. It makes Jimin turn back to his own as well too and lo and behold, they’re finally in.

“Okay Julien just pick two tickets and do a run search for best seating until you find a pair. When you do, buy them because literally trying to find anything better would just mean you won’t get tickets at all. I'll owe you back the money afterwards.” Kim says it all in one breath, too into her own operation to notice the way the demon smirks and leisurely taps away as she had instructed him to do.

After what felt like hours of nail-biting suspense (on Kim’s end, Jimin had ordered himself a cappuccino in between that time), she finally pulls away with an exasperated groan.

“Damn it, I only managed to snag P3 tickets. Did you have any luck?”

He takes the time to uncross his legs, showing her the screen of his phone and grins boyishly when her eyes balks at what she reads.

“Two GA tickets?!” Kim almost screams it before she catches herself, slapping a hand over her mouth and ducking her head. When she’s sure no ones comes over to kick them out of the cafe for being a disturbance, she practically rounds on Jimin with unbidden elation. “Oh my God Julien! You’re amazing!” Her hands moves faster than her own words as she hastily pulls up her email. “You can send them over to me through my email. Honestly thank you so much for your help Julien, I’ll treat you to dinner tonight.”

When he makes no move to do as she says, Kim finally focuses on Jimin and her smile falters slightly. Jimin tilts his head almost too innocently, withdrawing his phone to blink wide, dark eyes at the brunette.

“What, did you think I was really going to hand these tickets over so easily after telling me all of that?”

He sees the way his words were not something Kim expected but she tries to play it off with a forced laugh. “You’re so funny Julien. Okay, how much?”

“$1,120.” A pause. “Each.”

She laughs again, the sound shrill and her face contorts into a mask of hollow mirth. Jimin watches on, only the barest of smiles ghosting his lips but he doesn’t join in on the joke. Well, not like there is one to begin with and Kim quickly realizes that as she calms down, all traces of a smile however fake, gone. Disbelief takes over her and that’s what almost makes Jimin laugh — he can literally see all the preconceptions she had of him disappear from her eyes. But he’s ever so charming; an amalgamation of soft and sharp, boyish and manly, chivalrous and a cunning wickedness underneath it all.

So it’s no surprise that he hasn’t completely lost her yet.

Kim takes the time to regard him, trying to gauge him and what’s going on in that pretty head of his only to come away, stumped. She’s contemplative, arms crossed before suddenly she cocks her head a little to one side, mouth tugging upwards into a half scoff, half smirk like she can’t believe Jimin’s about to try and play her at her own game.

“I’m gonna be honest — I never would’ve thought you would have the guts to do that.” She admits after a while, leaning back into her seat. “Usually all the guys I date would do whatever I ask them because they want to try and impress me.”

Figures.

Jimin didn’t need her to tell him that to know.

“But then again, I don't think you’re not quite like the other guys I’ve ever dated before.” Kim adds, voice dropping into a huskier tone right at the end. He goads her on, his expression darkens with the slightest hints of a promise she can’t refuse.

“Then how about I show what you’re missing out on?”

The sultry way in which he says it sends shivers down her spine, no doubt this new side she’s not aware of that could come from a face like his has her wanting more. With one last bite of her lip, she bites the bullet too.

“$1,000 each.”

“$1,115.”

“$1,100 each — And I’ll pay it in cash, only,” Jimin’s parted mouth stops halfway, his words falling short as Kim stops him with a coy smile. “We split it on some good dinner and Moet to celebrate tonight.”

Slowly, plush lips quirk upwards as an incredulous exhale escapes the demon; he hates to admit it, but Kim’s got spunk and unwittingly she’s been doing a good job at entertaining him. For a second, he considers, toys with the idea — she’s the perfect type to fuck around with, to string along on a wild and impulsive ride that would’ve involved a lot of money, sex, perhaps drugs until it left her breathless, addicted and drained to the very last penny. He would wrap her around his fingers so tightly, she would think it’s him that was under her spell. And right at the peak of it all, he would leave, disappear from her life as if he were nothing more than a self-indulgent dream she’d dreamt up, only for reality to come crashing down on her hard and the rest would’ve been history.

Tempting….

But…

He’s already been down that road, had more than his fair share of leaving women broken in more than one ways, tires of this game because no matter the centuries he’s lived in —

“Alright, how about we meet at The Red Muse later in the evening? You can take the time to go doll yourself up for me and we’ll go to town with this, yes?”

Kim grins, absolutely vibrating from his proposal as she bites her lower lip in an attempt to quell the salacious smile stretching her lips.

“Deal.”

They never learn.

Soon after, Jimin leaves to go off his separate ways with no particular plan in mind. He’s got a lot of time to kill before meeting Kim and he’s not particularly interested in seeking out another easy target to influence — he doesn’t get paid nearly enough to be working overtime. Jimin eventually settles on heading to his favourite upscale bar (one that even with Kim’s caliber couldn’t dream of affording) to do a bit of pregaming. As he was nursing a glass of single malt whiskey, the demon is interrupted by probably the only other thorn on his side.

“I suppose some things don’t end up changing after all.”

“I’m offended you would ever think there’s a time where I’ve lost an ounce of class at all.”

Silence.

Jimin’s gaze whips to the younger demon who’s thin lips are slightly downturned in disagreement, eyes rolled to the far corner with the recalling of some fabricated memory.

“Well there was that one time — “

“Shut it if you don’t want me to singe off that face you’re so proud of.”

Jungkook snickers, eyes crinkling up as if Jimin had just made a joke instead of a threat. The older demon rolls his eyes, waving down the bartender for another refill of his drink in hopes of numbing the headache he feels creeping up on him, only to have the younger obnoxiously steal his glass for a sip once he does.

“Still, I would’ve thought you’d be off lurking around poppet like a shadow right about now.” Jungkook comments offhandedly, wrinkling his nose when the hard liquor rolls down his throat. His momentary distraction lets Jimin swipe his drink back.

“I’m not her personal caretaker, and as long as she’s looking both ways before crossing the street, she’ll be fine.”

“Really?” Jungkook’s skepticism bleeds through. “Last I checked, poppet was pretty down in the dumps about the concert thing — swear she could conjure a cloud above her head at the rate she’s going.”

His statement causes Jimin to straighten up a bit, thoughts spinning for a few seconds before coming to a conclusion. A slow smirk makes its way onto his lips, barely contained over the rim of his glass. Jimin doesn’t need to look over to know that Jungkook’s probably blinking big doe eyes at him, gauging his reaction but Jimin’s onto him, already knows what he’s after, so he’s going to drag this out until the younger is losing his mind.

“She’ll be fine.” He replies indifferently and that already leaves Jungkook feeling miffed.

“Wow…that’s….” The younger starts, struggling to find words for this unexpected blasé attitude. “Surprisingly cold of you.”

Jimin shrugs, unconcerned about it all and as he continues to sip on his whiskey, leaving Jungkook to become visibly more and more antsy. He shifts in his seat, like a little kid who can’t keep still.

“So, you’re just gonna….leave her like that?”

“She’s already accepted that she’s not going so what’s there to do?”

“Well — !” Jungkook doesn’t know how to proceed, face pinched into one of utter confusion and it’s difficult to keep a straight face on when Jimin can literally see him questioning everything he believed up until this point. He continues to flounder for words, on the cusp of saying something but then stopping himself. It goes on for a few more minutes before Jungkook gives up with an exasperated huff. “So much for being a guardian…”

“Exactly; I’m a guardian, not a miracle worker.”

The words slip so easily past his lips and he’s so thankful for Jungkook finally leaving him alone so that he can let out the loud, snorting laugh he’s been keeping in the entire time. He probably looks crazy but he really could care less, muttering under his breath about how he can’t believe the irony of it all. This entire ordeal with Kim turned out to be a way better investment than he had initially thought; it almost made him feel sorry for the poor girl he’s about to drop off at hell’s doorsteps.

Almost.

He downs the rest of his drink in one go, savouring the smokey whiskey taste as it leaves a pleasant burn when he swallows. He wonders idly what the sensation of being drunk is like, trying to compare it to any other feelings he must’ve felt in his lifetime….

Jimin’s thoughts continue to wander for quite some time, thinking about this and that until belatedly, he realizes that the appointed time to meet Kim had passed nearly more than two hours. When he checks his phone, there is no trace of a text from the girl in question, not even one berating him for being stood up. At this point, any sensible person would be rather concerned, alarmed even. They would immediately call to see if everything was alright but for Jimin, the thought never crosses his mind. He merely humphs, like this is all an inconvenience to him, downs the rest of his drink and gets up after paying.

It’s late when he steps out of the bar, the sun having long since set and the city is alight, teeming with people enjoying dinner on patios, heading out for events or just strolling the streets. Instead of joining in on the hubbub, he strides off with the intention of heading to a more…peaceful place. But first, he thinks, he might pay you a visit. After all, he’s got a pair of BTS tickets on hand and now with Kim going MIA, he figured they could be put to better use, like making you admit that you miss him when he’s gone.

Either way, he can’t wait to see the look on your face.

He makes it back to your place faster than he expected, body thrumming with a feeling that he swears can’t be from the alcohol he’s consumed but nonetheless welcomes anyways. He’s in such a good mood that he almost rings your doorbell, catching himself last minute. Jimin laughs to himself, maybe it really is the alcohol after all? He shrugs if off and apparates to your room, only to find that it’s empty of you. He double takes, making sure he hasn’t accidentally overlooked you in the darkness but nope, there’s no signs of you anywhere.

Maybe you were in the living room or kitchen?

Jimin pads on over to your door, carefully listening in case any one other than you might be out there as well. When he hears nothing, he phases through the walls. He’s a bit caught off guard for a moment at how dark everything is, as if no one was home. It wasn’t until he catches sight of the faint warm glow of the living room lamp does he spot you, sitting alone on the couch.

You lock eyes, dazed and blinking in surprise from clearly not expecting him. You think it’s all in your head, an illusion thought up in your inebriated state but then he steps forward into the light and suddenly, you’re overwhelmed by his sheer presence, breath catching in your throat as you swallow. The black jeans he’s wearing hugs the shape of his legs so well and with his shirt tucked in, the silver YSL buckle glinting in the light, it looks as if his legs just go on for days. He’s dressed so simply and you’re appraising him like you’re seeing him for the first time until now instead of earlier today, yet your initial thought doesn’t change at all — it’s not fair that he looks this good.

He stops just short of the couch, head cocking to one side with a subtle shift of the hips to lean his weight on one foot, dainty earrings twinkling as well as his dark eyes as they gaze at you. The mere gesture makes you huff out, agitated.

“Someone’s home early.” Your voice comes out more nasally sounding than Jimin remembers it and he chokes back a snort.

“Someone’s been drinking.” He teases back, nodding to the wine glass in your hand before shifting his sight to the coffee table in front of you, taking in the two bottles and the little 6-inch, half eaten cake. Another tilt of his head, this time he raises one shapely eyebrow too. “That, or you’ve had a really rough day.”

“Har. Har.” You say sarcastically, swirling your wine before taking another hardy sip. “I’m not that bougie or impulsive to get a whole cake to binge on myself — not yet at least.”

“Then….” Jimin stops to think, trying to come up with answers for the sudden appearance of the confectionery treat, only to come up with, “A celebration? Someone’s birthday? Jaehee’s?”

You giggle half-heartedly, downing the rest of your glass and Jimin is quick to pick up your lack of confirmation. Now he’s blinking owlishly in astonishment, stunned into brief silence until the words slip out in an uncharacteristically soft murmur, “It’s your birthday…”

“Ding ding ding.” You sing-song, leaning over to refill your glass. The effort of it makes you nearly tip over but you hold out, retrieving your drink and anchoring yourself back onto the couch again. You should probably stop right about now since the pounding in your head is making you both simultaneously nauseous and sleepy. Or at the very least, go back to pacing yourself better but that would mean risking getting into your feelings and you’d rather die of alcohol poisoning than get in your feelings. So you drink.

“Well,” You hear Jimin huff, “I’m rather hurt you didn’t invite me to the party cherub.”

You snort, letting your head loll onto the back of the couch and shutting your eyes, cradling your glass to your chest like it’s a lifeline. “Don’t worry, you didn’t miss out much — just me and Jaehee, t’s all. Well, Jaehee’s sleeping now….work tomorrow…”

You trail off, the sound of your heartbeat ringing loudly in your ears that it might as well be beating inside your head than in your chest right now. You’re trying really hard to steady it but it only seems to make your breathing sound more laboured and doing no help to subside the killer wine buzz you have. Maybe you really should stop drinking after all, put down the glass you’re holding and call it a night before you do something mortifying, like throw up all the birthday cake you ate in front of Jimin. No, no, that is absolutely not happening. It would be disgusting and totally not cute. But then what are you going to do with the wine you just poured?

So caught up in your own inner ramblings, you failed to notice the quiet, pensive look marring Jimin’s face; eyebrows furrowed and the slightest downturn of his lips as he too becomes lost in his own thoughts. Clearly, he didn’t prepare himself for any of this — not like it would matter because he didn’t think anything would happen when he waltzed into your living room anyways. The most he had expected was to poke his head in, tease you about how obviously mopey you are about not going to the concert even when you had already decided not to go before dramatically brandishing the tickets with the promise of giving it to you after you dance a little for him. Instead, he’s caught in a conundrum of his own emotions, a jumbled mess that of course, only you could cause because you seem to be doing that a lot lately.

You’ve just about made up your mind, convinced to siphon the poured wine back into the bottle and then take your ass to bed when you nearly vault out of your own skin as soon as your eyes open.

“Jesus Jimin! What’re you—“

“Let’s go.”

You sputter, taken aback from the declaration before you blurt out, “Wha- Now? W-Where?” Your voice cracking as you lean away from Jimin’s imposing figure suddenly hovering over you to the point where you’re practically at a ninety-degree angle to the couch. He inhales deeply, one hand tousling through his hair while the other rests on his hip. He turns away from you briefly, allowing you the time to watch him go at war with himself, utterly confused and wondering what brought on such a spontaneous suggestion because, now that you think about it, you don’t think Jimin has ever invited you to go out anywhere before….

He rounds on you again and you’re forced back out of your thoughts to stare wide eyed up at him as he gathers himself.

“It’s just— just somewhere nice….As a…birthday present.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, bewildered at what you hear. If you were any more sober, you’d swear that that was the most you’ve heard Jimin fumble with his words. It’s….cute. Your heart’s still beating too loudly in your ear for your liking, you’ve still got a pulsing headache and your eyes are slowly becoming a little blurred, yet you still had the inkling thought of agreeing to go along with Jimin’s plan because how can you say no when he looks like that?

Well…. He might have to carry you but if he doesn’t mind then why the hell not?

You must’ve been staring for too long because Jimin starts to fidget in his spot, hand scratching the back of his neck. Oh, right; you gotta say yes you’re cool with it but might need some mobility assistance (this could get awkward).

“Uh…Well, that’s….cool. So like….where though?”

“That would ruin the surprise of it.” He laughs breathlessly and the sound itches to pull a smile on your own face.

“Do we gotta drive?”

“No driving cherub, you don’t even have a license.”

“Hey…I resent that.” You huff, limply pointing an accusatory finger at him before dropping your arm with a heavy thump. “So we walkin’? Cuz I’m telling ya now I can’t walk.”

“Clearly.” Jimin gracefully moves over towards your prone form again and with a dramatic sigh, he offers a hand to you. “C’mon get up, I’ll carry you.”

You blink hard, not believing your ears or luck. Here you thought you were gonna have to prostrate yourself to get him to carry you but he’s offering it willingly. Your heart squeezes inappropriately because this is touching you way more than it should and it’s probably showing on your face because Jimin gives you a weird look.

“Don’t make this weird, let’s just go before I change my mind.”

You only respond by holding out both your arms in the same manner a toddler wants to be picked up by their mother. Jimin exhales loudly through his nose, biting his bottom lip in order to school his face. When he’s composed himself again, he grabs onto you and hauls you up with effortless strength. Without meaning to, you fall against his broad chest with a yelp, clutching his biceps for dear life and trying very hard to stop your vision from swimming.

“You good cherub?” You hear him ask and even through your mantra of ‘don’t throw up’, you can still hear the restrained amusement seeping through.

“Just…Give me a sec.”

He gives you that courtesy, patiently waiting while holding you up from your unsteady legs, inhaling and exhaling until you think you’ve got most of your bearings back. You finally straighten, pulling back enough to be able to look up at him but when you do, you start to feel self-conscious. You probably look like a mess as much as you feel like one, or at least standing so close to Jimin you do. You’re still wearing your bare minimum ‘work clothes’ from earlier today that consists of a t-shirt you’ve had since high school and a pair of black yoga pants that has more or less faded to a dark grey from all the washes its been through.

“Ready?” Jimin asks, voice low that it gives off a slightly gravelly tone and pleasantly washes over you. You always liked the sound of his voice, could listen to him talk forever but it’s so soothing that it never fails to lull to sleep every time. When you swallow, mustering a nod of your head, he shifts you in his arms to have you looping yours around his neck and shoulder, startling you and igniting a heat that travels from the ends of your toes all the way up to your face. You immediately avert your gaze to your sock clad feet.

“Just hold onto me and,” He pauses, shooting you a roguish smirk. “You might want to close your eyes.”

That’s all the warning you get before you feel a pull so strong the air gets knocked out of you. All at once, you feel weightless with no sense of what’s up or down and instinctively, you huddle closer to the only other body mass that will indefinitely ensure you won’t fly away but before you can even emit a single shout, the powerful force vanishes and you feel solid ground.

“You can open your eyes now.” You feel Jimin’s chuckle rather than hear it and it takes you a whole hot second to realize you’ve actually had your eyes shut the entire time; when that happened you have no idea. Slowly, your eyes peel open as you release a shuddering breath, your senses having yet to fully catch up with you. They start to when you finally realize you’ve got a faceful of Jimin’s shirt, having practically squished into his chest, so much so that when you inhale you get a whiff of his cologne. It’s so subtle and almost undetectable but with you being this close, it overtakes you with ease. Next, your skin prickles as you feel a gentle breeze pass by, caressing the loose strands of your hair and tickling your cheeks and nose before finally you hear…. The humming of cars driving through the city with the occasional honks and sirens echoing off into the distant.

Wait, why do they sound so far away? Like…you’re above it all?

You flinch, alarmed and when you turn your head to look around you, your legs nearly give out. It’s only thanks to Jimin, who you’re still clutching onto with a vice grip that keeps you upright as you gaze out at the city horizon, illuminated by the multitudes of lights coming from the windows of buildings in front of you that stretch out as far as you can see. You double take, not believing if what you’re seeing is actually real until you feel Jimin move which makes you snap your bleary gaze up to him, searching for answers. He lets out a melodic laugh when he sees your expression.

“Never seen the city at night like this before huh?”

You could only open and close your mouth, gaping like a fish out of water as you look from him to the skyscrapers in front of you. Eventually, you gather enough courage to tentatively step away from Jimin since you’ve stepped foot onto this roof, but at the the first wave of vertigo, you instinctively sink down on your knees and remain fixed there. You must look ridiculous but like hell do you trust yourself right now to walk around on the flat roof of 6-story building with a system full of alcohol. Still, it doesn’t stop you from taking in the sights before you. It’s a clear night, not a single cloud lining the sky which leaves it so much more clear and vast, and with the glow from the lights below, you see the rich deep blues that peek through, reminding you of the depths of the open ocean. The view is beautiful and mesmerizing, like something you’d only see on the back of a postcard or in movies. You hadn’t noticed you’ve been swivelling around in your spot, head craned upwards in an attempt to take everything in until your world tilts once you’ve stopped long enough. You catch yourself on time from tipping over completely, hands shooting out as your heart leaps into your throat and you let out a shaky giggle.

“Slow down cherub, you’ll lose your head that way.” Jimin chides playfully, coming down to sit beside you. “If you think this is a view, wait till you get closer to the edge.”

“Oh ho ho, no, no, no.” You laugh, holding up a finger. “I refuse to go anywhere near it. Here is just fine.”

A snort, “I’ll catch you if that’s what you’re so worried about.”

You smile, “I had expect you to anyways.” And after a brief pause, you add quietly with your eyes fixated onto the city. “It’s still pretty — real pretty.”

You don’t catch the way he smiles softly in turn, the both of you lapsing into a companionable silence as you watch the city life continue to flow along. The ambient noise lets your mind drift freely, almost in a meditative state.

“This is nice.” You think aloud though your voice barely comes above a murmur, “Just watching the world go by like this, not having much to think on. Is this where you usually go off to when you’re not causing trouble?”

You side eye Jimin and hear him release air through his nose. “I’m much less of a menace than you think you know, but yes, I do come out here when I want to get away for a bit.”

You nod in understanding, letting your gaze wander over the landscape in front of you once more. You’re not sure what part of the city you’re in right now but you could imagine it being downtown, the faint bustling of traffic if you listen closely enough carrying over the gentle breeze and it doesn’t take much to picture the people down below, enjoying their night out in town with friends or families over dinner, a drink, or just by themselves, heading out or heading home. From the buildings, sometimes you catch the flicker of a light going out only for another one to come on in a different spot and you begin to wonder the lives these people might have.

“I wish I could stay up here.” You say, suddenly feeling melancholy. “Get away from it all too….”

Tired, you lean back until you’re lying down with your arms behind your head, facing towards the sky. Even from this high up and the sky as clear as it is, you don’t see a single star glimmering and you think it’s a pity; this would’ve been a perfect night to see them.

“It must be nice to be someone like you.” You continue to muse, “Not having to worry about insignificant mortal problems, like time or money…..”

You don’t hear a response from him and for a moment, you think he’s not even listening. It’s only when you think about backtracking do you hear his reply.

“Yeah, it’s kinda great when you start off but when you’ve been doing it for as long as I have….” He sighs, “It’s not what it’s cooked up to be….”

“Is it because it gets lonely?”

“More like boring…”

You laugh quietly under your breath, thinking to yourself that it’s so like him to think that; it’s evidence enough with him being here. Then another thought crosses your mind and you ask, “Do you think God judges you on the time you spend on earth?”

“….What makes you think that?” Jimin asks, sounding genuinely confused but also curious. You shrug, examining your nails listlessly.

“I saw it in a movie once. Apparently, when you die you go through seven levels of hell and each one has a trial you have to pass if you want to get reincarnated. If you fail one of the trials, you spend the rest of eternity getting punished there — one of them being called the Hell of Indolence, where they judge you on how well you’ve spent your time on earth and if they deem you’ve whiled away your life in laziness and inaction, you’ll be punished by running on a spinning disk while a spinning stone windmill chases you.”

“Sounds like a weekend on spring break.”

The wheeze comes out without you meaning to and you throw your hand out to the side to give him a reprimanding smack, trying to subdue your laughter. As usual, it hits his thigh but you’re too caught up in his punchline to care.

“I’m serious Jimin.” You say after collecting yourself. “It might’ve been fiction….Or maybe it really is real at this point who knows, but it really made me think — what if I had to go through those trials, like,” You take a moment, picturing the scene you’ve seen in the movie, imagining yourself before those trials, “how awful would it be to get told by a deity that you’ve basically failed at your life and you don’t deserve to get a second chance? Because you’ve done nothing with it….”

“….Do you think you would be told that?”

He knows it’s a loaded question, could hear the morose way in which you speak about life, death and the beyond, things he’s most familiar with. To him, it all means nothing but to you, it’s something that hangs above your head as a constant reminder that your time here is limited and it’s so precarious that it could end before you know it. He watches you shrug, too caught up in staring at the starless sky to notice.

“….Maybe….A small part of me does, and that’s what scares me.” You admit in a small voice. “Every year I feel like I haven’t moved forward at all with my life, just stuck doing the same thing while everyone else is getting that job they always wanted, traveling the world, getting engaged, doing what they love….” A humourless laugh expels along with the breath you exhale. “I don’t even know what I want to do beyond tomorrow, much less in two years… ten years from now? And it’s like any day, I’ll be left behind….”

The confession spills from you with unadulterated honesty, the most honest you’ve ever been in forever, it surprises even yourself. You think it’s the alcohol talking but you also think it’s mixed in conjunction with the coming of your birthday; another year tacked onto your life and along with it, the painstaking realization that time is passing by you way faster than you had fooled yourself to think otherwise. It’s something you’re not prepared to face.

Or ever will be.

So that’s why you choose to run, push it back to the farthest corners of your mind and even as it festers and grows, you vehemently ignore it. You drown yourself in school and work, meaningless distractions that lead to no self-satisfaction. It’s something to fill your time, nothing more or less. In those time, you yearned for an escape and that’s how you found your way through music, had found voices that called out to you with comforting words and made the uncertainties of the future seem less daunting.

“You won’t be left behind.”

His voice pierces above the white noise of the city below, clear as day even when it comes out no more than a quiet rasp. It rips you out from wallowing in the thoughts that you keep in the darker parts of your mind, almost startling you. Jimin’s eyes are locked on the horizon in front of him, even as you crane your neck up, you can’t discern any expression on his face but it seems you don’t need to as his words were more than enough to make up for it.

“If God judges you on your time spent on earth, then it is time where you’ve truly done nothing in the face of being able to do something.” Jimin says, unwavering. “And you’ve done something — have been doing something, because you’re somewhere different than where you were two years….ten years ago.

Life is many things darling, and everyone is too caught up with other people’s versions of it half the time. So even if you don’t know where you’re going, I think you owe it to yourself to at least make yours about you because no one else will.”

He finally turns his head to face you and if you thought you had trouble suppressing the swell of emotions in your chest before, you sure are screwed now. The lights of the buildings around you cast a warm glow to his profile, letting you see the slope of his nose, the fullness of his lips, the curve of his cheek that has you itching to stroke just to see if they’re as soft as they look, and the wispy way the strands of hair falls over his forehead, shorter than you had remembered; you wonder idly if he had it cut (it looks good). He’s beautiful — heartbreakingly so, like a statue carved in the finest of ivory but in that moment, it’s his eyes that makes your heart ache.

Endless pools of the deepest amber that hold so much history, seen so much history, perhaps the worst of mankind. They know of suffering, of loss, of betrayals and deceit, had even been the cause of them. You see the many emotions that had been reflected in those eyes, like gazing at an iridescent gem — pain, hatred, sadness, regret and at times, simply nothing at all. Time has both wisened and jaded them, but it is not a hardened glare that meets your own.

It’s tenderness.

“I know it may not seem like it, but if it’s worth anything,” Though it is only the two of you on this rooftop, he speaks in a way where he’s about to tell you the secrets to the world, something that only he wants you to hear and no one else. He takes a breath, never breaking your gaze as he says, “I think you’re doing just fine cherub, I really mean it.”

It’s so self-assured, so sincere, like he truly does believe in what he says that you think you don’t deserve this kind of faith, but perhaps it’s because he’s the one who said it that you find yourself believing it too.

A small smile breaks out onto your lips for the first time in a while. “You’re not saying that just because it’s my birthday right?” You tease in hopes to swallow past the lump that’s formed in your throat but your voice comes out sounding tight regardless. If Jimin notices, he doesn’t comment, instead shoots his own smile back at you, lips stretched until the tiniest hints of teeth are showing and eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that I’ve seen some shit as a demon who’s lived way longer than you’ve been on earth. Besides,” He turns back to the city view before him, leisurely reclining back so that he leans his weight on his hands placed behind him. “No place worth going has any shortcuts and those that do would most likely lead to hell.”

You chuff a laugh with a shake of your head, turning your gaze back towards the dark sky that is still void of any stars. This time, you don’t mind that there aren’t because if not tonight, then maybe another night you’ll be able to see one.

And a part of you hopes it’ll be with him too.

“Thank you.” You say softly. “For everything until now…”

“….Don’t mention it cherub.”

It’s a heartfelt thanks that echoes in the quiet night, a rare display of vulnerability from you and shockingly, from himself. Even if your confession was acted upon by liquid courage, he knows that it had been something that weighed heavily on your mind for who knows how long but now, you’ve finally calmed that turmoil that threatens to break you and however temporary it may be, you’re genuinely grateful to have confided in him and walk away with a lighter heart.

It’s gratitude that he’s more than happy to revel in, if only it didn’t sound like this would be the first and last time.

“What time is it?” You ask, voice breaking through Jimin’s troubling thoughts and he belatedly reaches into his pocket to check his phone. You don’t see the way he raises an eyebrow at all the missed calls he’s got.

“Almost four.” He says, swiping away the notifications to clear the screen before his fingers tap away to pull up an app.

“Oh wow,” You breathe, getting up with a stretch. “Think we should head back? I’m definitely ready for bed.”

“When are you not?” Jimin snorts, “Is the age catching up to you already?”

“Stop, my back was killing me when I woke up today too.” You retort through a smile. You give your neck a roll and another stretch of your arms from having laid on a hard surface for a long period. Just when you’re about to muster up the strength to finally stand, Jimin stops you.

“There’s one more thing I have to show you.”

That catches your attention, whipping your eyes to him in mild surprise. He doesn’t have to — whatever it is that he has planned because this was more than enough. And you’re about to express that much when he suddenly shoves his phone into your face, startling you. You have to blink a couple of times in order to adjust to the brightness of the screen but when you do —

“What is this?” You dare to ask, heart beating quicker without meaning to as your eyes scan over the words, reading and then re-reading them but failing to register them all the same. Your eyes dart to Jimin who watches in quiet amusement from beside you, searching for any sort of answers for what you’re seeing.

“What does it look like?”

You’re left speechless and the only thing you could do is glance back and forth between the phone and Jimin, shaking your head in disbelief while trying to formulate words to your mess of thoughts.

“I — I don’t understand. How…?”

“….Guess you can call it a little demonic miracle of my own…” He says it as a light-hearted joke but unconsciously he brings a hand up to run through his hair, suddenly feeling bashful. Well, not like he could help it when you’re staring at him with wide, sparkly eyes. When he can’t handle your Bambi eyes any longer, he hurriedly blurts out the words you dare not speak yourself into existence for fear that it’s all just one hell of a good dream. “I got you tickets to go see BTS in the next city over alright?”

“But what about—?”

“I’ll take care of it all, don't worry about it.”

“Jimin that’s—!”

“Cherub, do you want to go or not?”

“I-I do! It’s just—“

“Then you’re going, no ifs, ands, or buts.” Jimin says it with finality, stern and in a way where you know he’ll ship you in a box if he has to. With no room left for arguing, you’re reduced to an overwhelming mess of emotion that has you struggling to contain it, leaving your hands to shake instead. Your quietness concerns Jimin for a minute before he lets out a grunt in surprise as he abruptly finds himself at the other end of your body slamming hug. He goes rigid, not knowing what to do with his hands as he lets you wrap yourself around him in a rather snug embrace that he thinks he can actually feel how fast your heart is beating against his chest. Or is that perhaps…his own?

“Thank you.” Your voice comes out as a hush warble against his ears. Two words and yet the amount of happiness Jimin hears coming from it is palpable, it makes him think that this is the happiest he’s ever seen you. He softens at that, tentatively wrapping his own arms around your waist to hold you steady and he thinks it’s nice to hold you for once without the context of having escaped a rather sticky situation beforehand.

And there it is again, that wretched twinge in his chest only this time it’s so obtrusive that he can no longer brush it off or ignore it. It comes with a realization of many things, but among them was something that he never would’ve expected to ever come into terms with, shocking him like an ice cold plunge in the middle of winter.

That as both a powerful demon and as a decent but temporary guardian, this is the extent of happiness that he'll ever be able to give you.

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