#i love u melting pot server

[pupstim]

okay okay tho no joke the TTS for the signs are just So fucking awesome like I cannot express just how happy they make me. Like it's an amazing feat in my eyes and I just love they put it in there. I think some people said it started for Tubbo and if so that just makes it so much better.

I hope one day they can do where it translates the signs between languages. It would be cool tho if they can continue to just learn one another's language.

[circethegoblin]

STAYING ALIVE MASTERPOST, FROM A BROKE TEEN WITH ADHD

here you go. some down to earth tips on how to not die metally nor physically.

tired of those "drink three liters of water everyday uwu" and "wake up at 5 am" and "buy a bath bomb and a fec mask and some other things you don't have the money for" shit? i'm here for ya.

1. NOT DYING

eat at least three meals a day, one of which m u s t be warm and above 300 kcal (it can be istant ramen with an egg added if you have to)

you technically should shower everyday, but we know how it is. A change of clothes is sometimes enough.

DRY SHAMPOO AND BABY WIPES!!!

keep bottles with water everywhere. On your desk, near that spot on the floor you always end up sitting on, near your bed, basically whenever you know you spend a lot of time. No need to get up and go to the kitchen will help. Obviously change the water in the bottles as often as you can.

Get some form of physical activity. It doesn't have to be much, you can for example replace scrolling on tiktok by walking around your room and scrolling on tiktok! Brilliant, isn't it? Obviously, running or doing those 10 minutes workouts from youtube is better, but you are still getting like an hour of walking.

Buy blankets. Steal blankets. Summon blankets from other dimensions. Just make sure you have a lot of warm, soft blankets in your house. You will thank me when you won't have the anergy to wash your sheets (just take them off and throw some blankets on your bed), or when the power goes out.

If you have pets, ALWAYS keep spare food that'll last for a week for them.

things to always have in the kitchen: milk, eggs, flour, rice, pasta, yeast, cheese, oil, a leafy vegetable, onions, tomatoes, apples, patatoes, some flavourful sauce, sugar, salt, spices and an emergency chocolate bar. You can make a lot of food with those. Just make sure you won't eat the chocolate too fast.

Have a lot of spare batteries. A lot.

Get urself a flashlight, a lighter, and a pocket knife.

Remember the apples? eat one a day. if you don't like apples or you can't eat them for any other reason, you can take a kiwi, banana, orange, basically something that will give you vitamins and non processed sugar.

do the dishes before your sink starts developing it's own ecosystem

drugs from that one guy around the corner = very bad time

2. NOT DYING INSIDE

Open the damn window.

Don't watch so many commentary videos. You are probably not even checking the sources, so you can easily make unjust judgement, and like. did you even hear of half of those people before?

make a discord server just for yourself. get into the habit of writing little things that happened to you there. rant about the fanfics you read. or the movies. vent there if you don't have anyone you can vent to. write your ideas there, write e v e r y t h i n g. make a section for passwords, for quick ideas, for your to do lists. you won't lose it as you do with sticky notes or notebooks. there is no risk anyone will see it. oh, and when you'll have a strong impulse to tell emily that you hate her? write that message in your private server and list all ur arguments. look at tat the next day and decide if you really mean that.

life sucks. come to peace with it.

cuddle ur pets if you have them

1 hour a day without a lot of sensory input. if you have to, reduce to half an hour.

if you find yourself scrolling endlessly through social media, make sure it's pintrest (just don't compare urself to the people here; if you have issues with that, tumblr may be better)

delete. twitter. from. your. phone.

influencers are lying to you; maybe not even intentionally. remember when you were watching that cute-aesthetic-productive morning routine, and you were wondering why your life isn't that pretty? why your room is a mess? why you cannot for the life of god be aesthetic 24/7? its the filter. don't worry about it, their lifes arent that nice either.

realize there's actually nothing stopping you from screaming as loud as you can right now. like there is no physical barrier. think about it. realize there's no actual physical barierr to many other things.

your body is your body. you can decide how it looks like; just remember it's in your greatest interest to keep it healthy.

3. BEING A LITTLE BETTER THAN JUST ALIVE

If you wear make up, take it off before you go to sleep.

moisturize your body; everything is better when your skin doesn't feel dry

have a one brand of cosmetics that you love and buy things mainly from it. they often have sets of products that complete each other. i like ziaja. it's a polish brand, it's surprisingly cheap and has nice quality

cleanser, moisturizer, face mist

of you can, change your sheets once every two weeks

do the dishes before your sink starts developing it's own ecosystem

do a deep house clean once a month (don't beat yourself up when you don't tho)

keep your workspace organized (it doesn't have to look organized to other people, remember)

sunscreen

cook your own food

keep a calendar

no money for scented candles? got ya. make a simmer pot: throw some apple peel, a couple of cinnamon sticks and whatever spices that smell good you have into a pot, add some water and simmer. boom. your house smells good, and you haven't spend 20 dollars.

If you really like candles, buy scented wax melts. it's cheaper.

Buy urself scented mists. they're pretty cheap and will make you feel A LOT better.

keep your clothes clean. if you aren't sure if that shirt thats on your chair is dirty or not, throw it in the washing mashine anyway. better be sure.

if you can, make your bed right when you get up

wear clothes that make you feel good. put some effort into your outfits. really.

4. OTHER PEOPLE

be nice to essential workers.

if you have money, give tips.

remember, you do not owe anyone love; it is not something you can force. even if they saved your life. even when they helped you in your darkest time. if you don't love them, you don't.

you don't have to be in a romantic relationship to be happy.

if you want to, date! date everyone! date girls, date boys, date nonbinary people! date people completly different than you, date people from different countries, date them!!! just make sure they're kind and won't kill you. even if you don't end up in a relationship, you can learn a lot.

don't be afraid to piss off people that deserve it

smile to strangers :)

5. NOT FAILING SCHOOL

heard of dark academia? check it out

romanticize the heck out of studying

do not let your studying be just reading the same partagraph over and over again. it won't work. believe me.

seterra for geography, quizlet for everything else

try to make yourself intrestet in whatever you are studying (watch veritasium, listen to podcasts about weird history facts)

notes are for you and you only; don't worry about them looking pretty. doodle on margins, make weird metaphors, squeeze in as much info as you can.

when you're studying, listen to music without words/in a language you don't understand.

chew gum while you study

get the forest app, get attached to the trees, focus.

don't feel guilty for taking breaks

grades aren't everything, but they are important.

eat something in school

don't just use the cheapest pens. invest a couple dollars in something that will make writing enjoyable and smooth

those study with me videos? they're great

if you like to argue with the teachers, take care of your grades becouse. they may not like you afterwards.

be nice to your classmates and help them with homework. if you don't do your homework they'll help you

executive dysfunction won't let you study? been there. sometimes it's better to wake up ealier tommorow and do that homework then.

don't feel guilty for failing a test

go to the goddamn class

don't pull all nighters oh my god don't especially on weekdays

6. OTHER LIFEHACKS

don't get involved in the crime, and if you do always have a believable explanation why you were doing it

have different alarm sounds for every day of the week

set a daily limit of money that you spend

great hobbies that don't require a lot of money; urban exploration, writing, hiking and learning other languages

thrift stores

don't eat grapefruits while on meds

nail polish removers dissolve most strong glues.

if you have a cut on your skin, desinfect it. do it. please just do it.

always have pads with you. even if you don't get periods, at least one of your friends probably does

sign up in your local library. its free

[jaskiersvalley]

I love your centaur au!!! So much ashcjeicbd would u be open to fawn ciri? Maybe the little white fawn suddenly transforms into a centaur one day. From magic? Or smt? Who knows. Lots of love 💕 💕

So many centaur requests! I did not realise a corner of the fandom was so into it. I have a chat with @afraidofliving1213 who came up with the best idea for Ciri and for Cahir (I couldn’t not include him...I’m not even sorry). This also doubles as the Melting Pot prompt fill for my favourite Discord server. My prompt for this week was: “You heard that noise?”

They were out in the forest, a fair distance from the keep under the pretence of getting wood for the burners but really, Vesemir just wanted a bit of peace and quiet. But turfing out the young ones, he actually have a bit of hope for relaxing. He was quite right, Jaskier had been bouncing through the undergrowth, lute in hand and trilling to the birds. Meanwhile, the other three were lazily pretending to cut some wood but really, they were mostly lounging around and listening to Jaskier sing. It was nice, the birds were joining in and everyone was relaxed. Until Jaskier fell silent and bounded back to the trio.

“What’s the matter?” Lambert asked, tail twitching, the skin on his back jerking as if a fly had landed on him.

“I could have sworn I heard someone,” Jaskier was looking around, trying to find the source of the noise. All of them fell silent, listening avidly. There was a crack of a twig and Jaskier tensed. “You heard that noise?”

Geralt was about to dismiss it as just the forest being its usual self when there was another crack, closer. All three of them were up on their feet, scanning the undergrowth. A shadow moved in the distance, approaching slowly.

“I mean no harm!” A voice called and a centaur slowly approached, hands up and open. His coat was all black, broad and scarred, at a guess a destrier, definitely war class centaur. Everything screamed danger about him despite his word. It didn’t help that he was in worn armour that was so very distinctive.

“Nilfgaardian,” Geralt growled and aimed a swift kick to the shoulder of a foreleg. The intruder crumpled with a pained grunt. There was no question about heritage or breed now, dangerous and definitely not one who was welcomed at Kaer Morhen. His kind only ever brought war and destruction.

A scream of “Cahir!” went up, young and full of panic. Another centaur burst into view, pure white and so very young. Probably a thoroughbred Arabian.

Even as Geralt’s hooves stood on a black chest, Cahir tried to twist to look at the girl.

“Ciri! Run!”

The young centaur didn’t turn to run though, she charged at Geralt with a fierce scream, hands smacking his forelegs where he stood on her protector.

“Stop hurting him!” She demanded. “He’s already hurt!”

On second glance, Geralt could see where there were gashes along Cahir’s flank and down his rump. Probably a warg had tried to take him down. The fact that there were no injuries on Ciri meant he’d thrown himself in the warg’s way probably. And even now he was trying to get her to leave, to flee to safety as he was pinned. Chances were, he was too exhausted to fight, if the bags under his eyes and general condition was actually taken into account. His fur didn’t shine, skin pallid and pale.

“Please.” It seemed he wasn’t above begging now, voice weak as Geralt’s hooves pressed down on his ribs. “We’ve been on the run for almost a month. Ciri is meant for Kaer Morhen. Take her even if you kill me.”

It was Lambert who peered down at him curiously before looking up at Eskel. He smacked Geralt in the flank.

“Off.”

Even as Geralt was moving, Jaskier was coming closer and he gasped.

“Princess Cirilla?”

To which there was a delighted “Jaskier!” and Ciri was flinging herself into Jaskier’s arms. “News was that’s you’d died in an attack!”

Jaws clenched, Geralt looked at Ciri, nostrils flaring. The other two knew exactly what was going on, having heard the story over a decade ago.

“Cirilla,” he called, “my Child Surprise. Calanthe didn’t want me anywhere near you.”

Eskel was pulling Cahir up, pressing against him to help take weight off the leg that Geralt had kicked. He tried to limp closer to Ciri but even the slightest pressure had the leg buckling under him.

“Queen Calanthe is dead. Nilfgaard want her granddaughter. I was meant to take her back to the Emperor.”

Stating the obvious, Geralt snorted. “But you didn’t.”

“Sounds like Jaskier and Geralt have this in hand,” Lambert drawled as he looked over Cahir and Eskel. “I think we can have you in hand.”

Geralt sent them a glare which went ignored. Instead, Lambert happily trotted to Cahir’s other side and pressed bodily against him. “I’m Lambert, this is Eskel, we’ll be your escorts and nurses for your stay.”

Ignoring the blatant flirting, Geralt turned back to Jaskier and Ciri. It seemed that destiny had caught up with them all, exacted revenge on Calanthe for denying the way things should have gone, brought Ciri to him after all these years.

“Princess,” Jaskier was talking enough for the both of them, “you and you knight will fit right in. Please don’t worry about how brutish these witchers seem. I though they were going to kill me when I first met them. But, instead, I am the happiest I have ever been. Hopefully you will be too. Geralt is a snuggly grump when you get to know him. Just give his back a good scritch.” He looked between Ciri and Geralt and frowned. “Maybe when you’re older and you can reach. Until then, just bite his legs if he’s a boorish barbarian, he’ll understand.”

Rolling his eyes, Geralt wondered just what he was getting tangled up in. Behind him, Lambert was already chatting up Cahir, no doubt Eskel was a perfect counterpoint of gentle charm. Next to him, Jaskier and Ciri were ganging up on him. The only thing he could really think of though was poor Vesemir and the headache he was going to have when they all got back to the keep and introduced two more stowaways who were going to wind up as family all too soon.

[luxekook]

love bites | ksj

*written for the FWL luv library project*

⇥ pairing: kim seokjin x reader

⇥ genre: non-idol au, co-workers to lovers, smut, fluff

⇥ summary: you’re stuck working the evening shift on valentine’s day at bangtan bistro. as the city’s most expensive and exclusive restaurant, the bistro draws in couples both old and new with partners looking to propose or to impress. your tolerance for PDA and cringey lovebirds has never been lower. throw a flirty chef into the mix and you’re in for a bumpy ride that might just conclude with a happy ending.

⇥ word count: 5.4k

⇥ warnings: 18+, smut, cursing, bad puns from jin, numerous health-code violations (from fraternizing all up in that kitchen), oral (m + f receiving), protected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it, folks), workplace romance, threats of violence from yoongi

⇥ beta'd by the amazing @shadowsremedy​ (thank you, heath! could not have done this without you, your feedback, and your general support!)

“Will you marry me?”

I screech to a halt, completely astounded at the goddamned audacity of the man kneeling before me. Did he really just ask that? At a time like this?

I shift my weight from one foot to the other as I try not to outwardly show my disgust over the scene unfolding before my very eyes.

“Oh my god, Chad!” The date of this Chad finally launches herself from her seat and into his arms, “Yes!”

The restaurant breaks into applause. My forehead breaks into a sweat.

My left arm feels like it might snap at any moment under the weight of the tray of food that I’m meant to be serving this goddamn theatrical couple. The thought of quitting crosses my mind for the umpteenth time that evening.

A camera flash temporarily stuns me, and I feel a tiny twinge of satisfaction. My looming presence in that commemorative photo will hopefully be a reminder to let servers do their damn job before launching into a whole ordeal.

God, I must have been off my fucking rocker when I agreed to work the Valentine’s Day dinner shift. At least the tip money would be worth it.

Gritting my teeth, I flash my best fake smile and offer words of congratulations to the sniffling couple who finally reclaimed their seats.

“Enjoy your meal,” my mouth says with a smile.

“I wish I could sear you like that filet mignon you ordered, Chad,” my glare says with promise.

Thirty seconds later, I’m in full whisper-rant mode at the corner server station. My friend and fellow server Tabby half-listens as she punches in an order at the kiosk.

“And then this Chad in his fucking khaki suit flails to the ground to pop the question like he didn’t see me walking towards them with all seven entrees they ordered. So then I’m stuck hovering over their table with a giant-ass tray of food while they cry and hug and kiss until, finally, finally, they park it back in their seats so I can serve them.”

I groan, hitting my head against the wall, “What did I do in a past life to deserve this?”

“Kill someone, probably,” a voice pipes up from behind the station’s kitchen window, “Oh wait, you would do that in this life, too.”

Kim Seokjin, head chef of Bangtan Bistro and my partial employer, is leaning over the window’s counter, eyes full of mischief as he watches me.

“Oh, what’s this? Are you volunteering to be my very first victim?” I mirror his position leaning over the window’s counter and give him my best side-eye, “I’ll send you my application for victims on Google Docs.”

“Sounds kinky,” Seokjin grins, “Count me in. My Gmail username is Hugh Chefner. No capitals or spaces.”

“I despise you,” I say biting back a smile.

“You lo-o-ove me!” He sings, heading back into the depths of the hectic kitchen.

And, unfortunately, he’s right. Damn Kim Seokjin and his insane level of gorgeousness, charisma, and dramatics.

Against my better judgment, Seokjin has shimmied his chaotic self right into my well-guarded heart. Despite all of the prickliness my typical demeanor displays, I can’t help but melt under the warm gaze of such a handsome man.

Seokjin is the first person that has ever been able to pique my interest lately and keep it. Yes, it might have something to do with his extreme attractiveness; but, it more-so has everything to do with his genuine kindness and weird sense of humor.

Shit, I’ve gone soft. If we’re arguing Nature vs. Nurture here, this is totally Nurture’s fault.

Bangtan Bistro is co-owned by seven men - each as fine as the next. Being surrounded by good-looking and kind-hearted men day in and day out will definitely fuck with your brain, your body, and eventually even your fucking heart.

Kim Namjoon, a tall, dimpled sweetheart of a man, acts as general manager. Namjoon typically resides in the back office of the restaurant running numbers and going over other business ventures. He used to frequent the front of the restaurant to check on customers, but Jimin has since banned him from that activity after the infamous Spaghetti Incident of 2019.

Park Jimin, as the overseer of staff and servers, commands the restaurant floor with a crinkly-eyed smile and a ferocious temper. Fortunately for his direct subordinates (READ: me), his temper is most likely to be focused on rude customers and his messy business partners. Jimin honestly is the ideal boss because he has our backs and will never hesitate to help anyone out.

Late one Saturday evening, a man refused to leave the restaurant after being cut off from his bar tab. Jimin full-on squared up with him in defense of the poor server who had to break the news to the drunk patron. Luckily, the Bistro’s head of security, Jeon Jungkook, took over before Jimin actually popped off.

Jungkook, as the youngest partner, is shockingly tall and muscular. He definitely provides the intimidation needed for those types of escalating incidents. Despite his tough exterior, Jungkook is a complete softie.

I once caught Jungkook in the kitchen after close attempting to make cookies for a girl he had a crush on. I walked in to see Jungkook standing over a tray of the unidentifiable charred monstrosities and pouting in the most ridiculous way. Needless to say, I helped him bake a new batch with the oven not turned up to 500 degrees so that “they would cook faster”.

Min Yoongi had found the pair of us bickering and had just rolled his eyes and scooped a mouthful of raw cookie dough. As the head bartender, Yoongi is the absolute best at mixing drinks and the absolute worst at customer service. I swear the man gets far too much pleasure from getting people thrown out. He’s also notorious for watering down the drinks of customers he doesn’t like. He’s petty like that. I live for it.

Once, Jung Hoseok tried to take a picture of Yoongi for the restaurant’s website, and Yoongi threatened to shove a sharpened cocktail umbrella through Hoseok’s eye. I had never seen the Bistro’s head of marketing and resident sunshine flee so fast. Hoseok later ended up using an old picture of Yoongi in retaliation; rumor has it Yoongi is still plotting his revenge to this day.

Kim Taehyung often grumbles about how he’s going to be put out of a job since the restaurant naturally provides daily entertainment. As the head of entertainment and events, Taehyung helps to secure live music and special guests. He’s also the most handsome man I have ever seen - with the exception of one Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin, as head chef, is responsible for planning the seasonal menus, overseeing the kitchen staff, and preparing the more challenging dishes. He’s even taken it upon himself to be the resident comedian, which the other six partners vehemently and openly detest. Still, that backlash has not stopped him from naming each evening special with puns. His last Seokjin Special was called “Chicken Pot Bye Felicia”. It had resulted in Yoongi banning Seokjin from the restaurant for a full week. He still hasn’t dared to make another pun, but I can tell it will only be a matter of time.

Basically, Seokjin is an entirely goofy and beautiful mess of a human. Yet, I can’t stop myself from falling deeper and deeper into the trap that is loving someone outside of your league.

When I first arrived at the Bistro for my inaugural shift, I was greeted enthusiastically by Jimin, who I’d met previously in my interview. Jimin had introduced me to each of his partners - each as handsome as the last. Honestly, my eyes and nerves had been exhausted after meeting almost all of them. Then Jimin had ushered me into the kitchen.

“Hey, Jin-hyung!” Jimin had yelled over the cacophony of sizzling pans and murmured conversation. I had watched in awe as the hottest man I’ve ever seen entered my line of vision and stopped before me. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had a face that could inspire priceless works of art with full pink lips, high cheekbones, and devilish dark eyes.

“You summoned me, Jiminie?” The man had laughed in a slightly squeaky manner before he noticed my presence, “Ah, who might this be?”

I had cleared my throat in hopes that my voice wouldn’t crack under the sheer weight of this man’s attractiveness, “Hi, I’m (y/n). I’m starting today as a server.” and thrust my hand out with a shy smile.

He had blinked. Slowly, a smirk eased onto his face as he grabbed my hand. Instead of shaking it, he had brought it to his lips. “A pleasure. I’m Seokjin,” he had murmured, lips brushing against my knuckles. My cheeks had felt like they were on fire as Jimin screeched at Seokjin for harassing me.

“It’s her first day, Jin! Lay off the theatrics,” Jimin had turned to me, “Sorry about him, (y/n). He’s a desperate flirt.”

“Desperate? Me?” Seokjin gasped, “Worldwide Handsome does not do desperate.”

“Did you just refer to yourself as ‘Worldwide Handsome’?” I had gaped at his open arrogance.

Seokjin proudly had puffed up his chest, “Yes. What else could I possibly be called?”

“Well, definitely not Worldwide Humble,” My mouth had said before my brain caught up.

The room had seemed to pause before Jimin erupted in peals of laughter as Seokjin spluttered, “Yah, Jiminie, you can’t let her talk to me like that!”

Still laughing, Jimin had choked out, “(y/n), you officially have a job here until you die.”

Ever since that first encounter, Seokjin and I have established a working relationship based on banter or what Tabby refers to as ‘flirting’. I refuse to believe that ridiculous notion.

Tabby finally finishes entering her order into the kiosk and turns to me, “So, any hot plans for tonight?” Her eyebrows wiggle up and down suggestively.

“Does solo Netflix and chill count as hot plans?” I deadpan as I peer around the server station divider to covertly check on my tables. I lock eyes on Chad and his fiancé, who already seem to be arguing, and I make an executive decision to not go check how their meal is going.

“No!” Tabby’s whisper-yell commands my attention, “That definitely does not count, (y/n). Why didn’t you find someone on Tinder? I even made you that bomb-ass profile.”

I pointedly look everywhere but at her.

“You deleted the app, didn’t you,” she glares at me, arms folded, “I slaved over that profile! There were only so many tasteful cleavage shots of my best friend that I could stomach in one sitting!”

“What the fuck, Tabby! Since when do I have any—”

“Tasteful cleavage shots?” Seokjin’s elated voice practically shouts from the kitchen, “Let me at ‘em.”

His hands launch towards us through the kitchen window and make grabbing motions.

“Seokjin,” I tsk mockingly, “Are you trying to grab my tits again?”

“Again?” Tabby cries, whirling on Seokjin, who looks at us in horror.

“I wasn’t! I swear! I just wanted to see the pictures! I didn’t want to grab your boobs…” He trails off, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like ‘not any more than usual, anyway’.

“Seokjin-hyung! (y/n)!” Jimin blazes into the service station, “I’ve had it up to here with your bickering. You’re both on closing duties tonight - alone.”

“What?” I exclaim as Tabby slinks away. Traitor. “We’re just joking with each other! Right, Seokjin?”

Jimin’s gaze swings from me to Seokjin, who is suddenly suspiciously calm. My eyes narrow. A silent conversation is definitely happening without my participation.

Finally, Seokjin just shrugs with a grin, “Sounds fair to me, Jiminie! (y/n) and I will work hard all night if we have to.”

“Fair?” I choke, “All night?”

Jimin, following Tabby’s lead, scurries away as my attention is diverted by Seokjin’s idiocy. “Scared to be alone with me, (y/n)?” Seokjin’s lips break into a sly smile, “Don’t worry, I don’t bite… much.”

With that parting remark, Seokjin winks at me and disappears back into the kitchen.

“Fuck me,” I breathe out. How would I survive this?

Five hours later, the last patron has been ushered out of the restaurant with the staff right on their heels. I curse as Yoongi waltzes out the door, fanning himself with a crisp fifty-dollar bill and winking obnoxiously. “Have fun!” He cackles, locking the restaurant doors behind him.

“No, please don’t offer to stay and help,” I grumble, sweeping stray pieces of lettuce out from under a table, “I am more than happy to stay here until the ass-crack of dawn with the biggest idiot on the face of the earth.”

“The biggest, huh?” The voice chuckles right in my ear, “How did you know?”

“Goddamnit, Seokjin!” I slap a hand to my heart, “Don’t sneak up on me like that, you oaf!”

Whirling to face him, I stutter to a halt. He’s taken off his heavy chef’s coat and is now left in a tight black t-shirt that clings to his body in a manner that has to be illegal.

I swallow hard, and for a split second, I swear Seokjin’s gaze latches onto my throat.

“Is it hot in here?” I mutter distractedly, tugging at the collar of my stiff white button-down.

“Yes,” Seokjin practically purrs, “It’s scorching.”

Choosing not to acknowledge him, I spin on my heels, grabbing the full dustpan of debris I collected and head towards the back of the restaurant.

Emptying the dustpan in the trash, I walk over to the supply closet to return the broom. The restaurant floor is finished. Now, I just had to see how much of the kitchen Seokjin actually cleaned.

Pushing through the swinging doors of the kitchen, I screech to a halt as I’m faced with a complete and utter miracle.

“What in tarnation?” I gasp, taking in the pristine kitchen full of glistening stainless steel and sparkling countertops. “Kim Seokjin!” I yell, “You damn wizard! How the fuck did you clean everything this fast?”

“You could say I was motivated,” his reply sounds entirely too close. I spin to face him and gape as I notice the bouquet of red roses that he’s holding out to me.

Taking in my speechless appearance, Seokjin smiles smugly and opens his mouth to continue.

I cut him off, “Tell me those aren’t the roses from the fucking table centerpieces... I threw those in the trash, Seokjin!”

His ears turn an alarming shade of magenta, “Yah, just accept the gesture, (y/n)! This is peak romance, you know!”

“They are covered in filth, dude!” I squint, peering closer, “Is that a piece of spaghetti in there?”

Seokjin yeets the makeshift bouquet back into the garbage, “Why can’t you just appreciate my efforts?” He pouts excessively, “Don’t you like me?”

Red alert. Red alert, my mind whirs.

“Sure,” I let out a nervous laugh, “We’re friends. Of course, I like you.”

He steps towards me, “Sure, we’re friends, (y/n), but friends don’t usually want to fuck each other.”

That bitch said what now?

“Did you inhale too much Clorox?” I panic, “Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?” Thrusting three fingers in front of Seokjin’s amused face, I widen my eyes as he suddenly grabs my hand.

“Baby,” he says lowly, sending a delicious shiver down my spine, “If you keep being so adorable, I may just have to keep you.”

Well, shit, okay. “Say less,” I breathe and then immediately slam my mouth shut.

I receive a classic Seokjin grin in return for my idiocy, and my knees shake. Honestly, who the fuck allowed him to be that devastating?

Slowly, his grin slips away, and his eyes ignite with raw desire, “Tell me what you want from me, (y/n).”

My mind short circuits, automatically reverting to my default mode of sass, “Uh, peace and quiet?”

“Really?” Seokjin murmurs, stepping even closer still, “So you don’t want me to kiss you? You don’t want me to turn you over and fuck you until you scream?”

My breathing is ragged. His eyes burn with a hunger I had never seen before, and I’m crumbling.

“Answer me,” Jin demands, desperation seeped in each word, “Please.”

“Seokjin—” I gasp, dumbfounded, “Where the hell is this coming from? We’re coworkers! You’re my boss!”

His eyes flashed darkly as he moved his head closer to mine, “That’s all irrelevant, baby.”

“Irrelevant—!” I stab a finger into his firm chest, “Oh, you little shit, you can’t just say that you want to fuck me and then say that our working relationship is irrelevant! I could get fired. You could get fired!”

“That’s highly unlikely given the fact that everyone else knows my plans to ask you out right now.”

“Hold on a second,” I narrow my eyes, “Are you saying that you purposefully planned for us to stay late tonight to clean the entire goddamn restaurant just so you could ask me out? Are you fucking insane?”

“I prefer the term ‘quirky’,” he quips, “But, yeah, I may have paid everyone $50 to leave us alone for the night.”

“Well, that explains Yoongi… that shady motherfucker,” I internally make note to plot my vengeance. “Why couldn’t you have just slid in my DMs like a normal person, Seokjin?” I groan, “I would have responded to a ‘you up’ with a ‘yes, come over’.”

Seokjin whips out his cell phone. “Does this apply to right now?” he asks, typing furiously.

My phone dings with several Instagram notifications.

hughchefner: u up

hughchefner: wyd

hughchefner: date me?

(y/n): bet

Seokjin’s eyes shoot up to mine after he reads my response, “Really? You agreed to date me by saying ‘bet’ in an Instagram DM?”

“Yup,” I shrug, “No take-backs. Also, to answer your previous questions: Yes, I do want you to kiss me with your insufferable mouth, and, yes, I do want to sit on your dick. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Say less,” Seokjin echoes my earlier statement and captures my mouth with his. I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him back with equal fervor.

“(Y/n),” he groans right as my tongue swipes teasingly against his lower lip.

His hands slid down my body, pausing only to squeeze my waist gently before settling firmly on my ass. His fingers dig in hard and I let out an embarrassingly loud moan.

“You like that, baby? You like when I’m rough?” Seokjin pulls his lips off mine and murmurs sinfully, “God, I want to devour you.”

I lift my chin up and challenge, “Do it, you won’t.”

His eyes flare, “Oh, babygirl, you were made for me.” Seokjin’s lips return to mine, moving at a slow but ravenous pace.

Still kissing me, he picks me up and places me on one of the kitchen’s stainless steel counters. His hands grab my thighs, tugging them apart to make room for him to stand between them. A harsh groan rises from the depths of his chest as our bodies align.

I hook one leg around his waist and tug him closer still. Pulling my lips away, I lean my head back as I slowly trace his muscles through his shirt. He watches me with his puffy lips parted, his breathing hard. His eyes are wild and I’m loving every second of it.

The room suddenly feels too hot. My hands dart up to shakily begin undoing the buttons of my shirt. Seokjin’s eyes follow my movements with fascination. “Let me,” he purrs and proceeds to rip my shirt from my body. Buttons scatter on the floor with sorrowful little bounces.

“You bitch,” I yank his hair, “That was my good work shirt.”

“I’ll buy you ten more,” Seokjin’s voice is rough and full of desire as he takes in my lacy white bra. Suddenly, his mouth descends to suck at my nipple through the thin lace.

“Damn, you are so fucking sexy,” he pulls his mouth away, “Can I take this off?”

I nod like a bobblehead in 60mph winds, reaching around my back with one hand to undo the clasp and then throwing my bra clear across the kitchen. It lands on top of one of the fridges and I shrug. I’d retrieve it later.

Seokjin tugs off his own shirt, revealing planes of tanned skin. I don’t hesitate to run my hands up and down the definition of his abs and watch in fascination as his muscles constrict under my touch. I run my hands lower, tracing his defined v-line.

No wonder they call it the Adonis belt, I muse, pondering if he’d let me lick it.

Huffing in impatience at my slow exploration, Seokjin returns his mouth to my nipple and sucks hard. My eyes nearly roll into the back of my head. He bites down gently and then blows on my nipple slowly. I moan at the sensation. I watch him through unfocused eyes as his hand slides down the front of my body. He reaches the button of my pants and pauses.

Seokjin pulls his mouth away from my nipple, his lips swollen and pink. “You have to say yes, baby.” His breath hits my ear, making me shiver.

I hold out my hand for a high-five and declare, “We stan a man who asks for clear consent.” Chuckling, Seokjin slaps my offered hand and then links his fingers with mine.

“Also,” I continue, looking into his eyes, “It’s a fuck yes.” I pull our linked fingers close to place a kiss on his knuckles.

“Cute,” he grins, “Now, can I take off your pants?”

“Take off yours first,” I order.

“So eager,” he laughs, making quick work of his black jeans. My mouth instantly waters at the sight of his hard cock straining to be released from the confines of his bright red Versace boxer briefs.

“Why am I not surprised that even your underwear is extra?” I mumble, flicking the button of my pants open.

Laughing, Seokjin takes over, tugging my pants down my legs. He then pushes my matching white lace panties aside and cups my pussy, applying pressure. I roll my hips into his hand.

His fingers trace lightly up and down my pussy, before one dips inside me. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he groans.

“Always,” I breathe out. Suddenly, he pulls his hand away from me. I pout. Seokjin laughs at my expression and then licks his finger.

“Jesus fuck, (y/n), you taste so sweet. Let me eat you out,” he pleads.

I smirk, saying, “I thought you’d never ask,” and then gasp as he kneels before me, grabbing my hips. Seokjin moves to tear my underwear off, and I’m quick to place my foot on his forehead to stop his approach. “I swear to god, Seokjin, if you rip these, I will get Namjoon to permanently ban Seokjin Specials.”

“You’re evil,” he grins, “I love it.” He makes a show of slowly taking my panties off before throwing them carelessly behind him. He then yanks the same leg I had used to thwart his panty-tearing plans and throws it over his shoulder before returning his fingers to my pussy. Seokjin’s thumb circles my clit while two of his fingers thrust into me at a maddening rate.

My fingers grip his hair when I finally feel his tongue licking up the juices that have started to run down my thighs.

After sucking what will probably become a massive hickey onto my left inner thigh, his tongue licks a path straight up my folds until it circles around my clit maddeningly. “Goddamnit, Seokjin, stop teasing,” my voice cracks in desperation, but my plea works. His tongue flicks at my clit lightly before his lips close over it and suck.

“Fuck,” I moan, “I think I like you eating me out more than I like eating your cooking.”

He pulls back to briefly land a light swat on my pussy and I choke on air as painful pleasure shoots through me. “Take that back,” he growls, “My cooking is second only to my handsome face.”

“God, I fucking hate you,” I drawl. The emphasis in my words portrays the exact opposite.

Seokjin sends me a shit-eating grin before his tongue returns to lick at my swollen clit, up and down, and then in a slow circle. His fingers brush open my folds just enough for him to sink his tongue into me. “O-oh,” I throw my head back, one hand moving up to pinch one of my nipples while the other latches back into Seokjin’s hair.

“I’m s-so close, baby,” my words slur as I shamelessly beg, “Don’t stop.”

He immediately pulls away.

“Oh, fuck you,” I seethe. I yank his head back by his hair until his neck is stretched in a long line. His hair is a mess, and I’ve never seen anything hotter.

“I just want to feel you come when I’m inside you, baby,” he smiles, my wetness glistening on his lips.

“Fine,” I shimmy off of the counter onto shaky legs, “Two can play at that game.”

“What?” Seokjin’s brows furrow in confusion.

It’s my turn to drop to my knees. “Oh, shit,” he curses as I tug his boxers down to reveal his hard cock. It’s silky and gorgeous, and I can’t stop staring at it. Seokjin, of course, notices. “You like my cock, babygirl? Take it. It’s yours.”

It already was, I think, as my gaze darts up to meet his.

Without breaking eye contact, I lick his reddened tip, almost moaning at his taste. “Fuck, babygirl,” Seokjin throws his head back. I smile wickedly. I could definitely get addicted to ruining this beautiful boy. “Look at me,” I command, feeling so powerful when he immediately listens.

Slowly, I suck down on his length, hollowing out my cheeks. My eyes stay on his as he groans, and I can tell he’s straining to keep from thrusting into my mouth.

“Please, baby, fuck—!” He moans as I swallow around him and then release him from my mouth with a pop. My hand darts up to grip him tightly, pumping him. Moving slowly, I suck one of his balls into my mouth, rolling my tongue around it gently. Seokjin chokes, “Fuck me.”

“We’ll get there, baby,” I tug my mouth away and grin up at him.

I suck him as far down as I can. His control snaps and he begins to thrust wildly into my mouth, panting.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” his eyes scrunch up as he chants, “I’m gonna come.”

I release him ruthlessly.

“Goddamnit,” he cries, “I knew that was coming, but it still hurts.”

“Well,” I wiggle my eyebrows at him, “If only you had a pretty little pussy ready for you to fuck… Oh, wait.”

Seokjin chuckles, “I see I wasn’t able to fuck some of the sass out of that mouth. We might have to try that again later.”

“Gladly,” I grin back at him, “You have a condom?”

Seokjin picks up his discarded jeans from the floor and digs around in the back pockets. “Aha!” He yells, hoisting up the glimmering gold foil in triumph.

I roll my eyes before snatching the condom from the idiot. Tearing the foil packaging open with my teeth, I grab Seokjin’s length and pump him a few times in preparation.

“Stop being a tease,” he mumbles, thrusting shallowly into my hand.

“Stop being so hot,” I challenge, leaning down to lick his pre-cum dripping from the reddened tip of his cock.

“Impossible,” Seokjin smirks before tugging me back up to face him.

He drops his lips to mine and sucks on my bottom lip. Pulling away slightly, he tugs at it in a stinging bite. Withdrawing his mouth from mine, he spins me around and bends me over the counter.

I feel the head of his cock running teasingly over the folds of my pussy and I gasp, “Please, baby, I need you inside me.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He thrusts into me in one sharp movement. We both gasp as he fills me, gliding in and out.

“Harder,” I moan.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “I’m trying to last over here.”

“Why? We have all night,” I pout before an idea pops into my head, and I taunt, “Wait, are you telling me you’re a one and done type of old man?”

“Oh, you’re going to regret that,” Seokjin mutters darkly.

His hard cock fills and stretches me, pleasure emanating within me from every sharp thrust of his hips.

“Your pussy is mine,” he growls, “I’ll fuck you from against the wall after this. I’ll fuck you until you can’t sass me anymore. And I’ll fuck you all night, baby, and every night after that.”

I clench around him as his dirty words wash over me. “Those are all great ideas in theory,” I gasp out, “But I really want to ride you first.”

“Oh, babygirl wants to fuck herself on my cock?” Seokjin slaps my ass before pulling out, “Well, come on.”

I stand upright and turn to see him walking towards the large island in the middle of the room. He hops onto it and lays down, placing one arm behind his head, and the other one slowly strokes his cock.

“You better get that hand off your cock before I decide to never let you into my pussy again,” I say darkly as I move towards him.

His hand flies off his dick at the speed of light, his eyes wide as they focus on me.

When I get close enough, I climb up onto the island and kneel with one leg on each side of his tapered waist. I slowly sink down so that just his tip is inside me and squeeze.

A garbled moan escapes Seokjin, his hands shooting out to grab my waist in an attempt to push me down further.

“Someone’s eager,” I whisper, bending down to press a quick kiss to his lips.

“I’ve been fucking eager since you were hired.” He smacks my ass and then groans as I reflexively sink down another inch.

“Yeah?” I question, sinking down another inch as his eyes squeeze shut, “You should have said something sooner, baby. I could have been riding you hard for months.”

Seokjin pouts, “Well, there’s no time like the present?”

“God, you’re such a dweeb,” I grin before taking him to the hilt. We both let out strangled breaths as I shift slightly, before placing a hand on his neck.

Keeping my hand there, I lift up and begin riding him hard. My body slides up and down onto his cock at a fast pace. Sweat drips down my back. Seokjin grabs my ass, his fingers gripping my skin, and pounds up into my pussy with brutal and possessive force.

“O-oh, fuck.” There’s something about riding Seokjin that just feels so good. My hips swivel and roll against his. The pleasure steadily builds, and I try to distract myself by biting down on Seokjin’s neck.

“I’m gonna come,” he moans, “Are you close?”

I pull away from his neck and sit up, arching my back to give him a deeper angle. He thrusts up into my g-spot and I gasp, “Shit, yes, I’m close. Come with me, baby.”

I clench my walls around him. Seokjin’s eyes are scrunched shut as he continues to pound into me with harsh strokes.

He shifts one hand from my ass to gently circle my aching clit, and I light up. My walls clench and pulse, locking down on Seokjin so tight that he comes, his hot seed filling the condom as he shudders.

I collapse against him and shove my face into his sweaty neck.

I can feel his laugh bubbling up from his chest before I hear it. “What’s so funny?” I ask, lips brushing his skin.

“Namjoon’s going to kill us for the number of health code violations we just committed,” his laughter causes his cock to shift within me, and I bite back a moan.

“Well,” I lift my face up from his neck to look at him, “We have nothing to lose at this point then, huh?”

I slowly lick my lips, and his eyes drop to them. The only noise left in the restaurant is our heavy breathing. “Round two in Namjoon’s office?” he suggests.

“Bet.”

a/n: this was so fun to write :) hope you all enjoyed it! happy valentine’s day!

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

[anika-ann]

Challenge Accepted...?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader                Word count: 4468

Summary: Steve’s never been good at quick decision-making when it came to his own safety. After one particularly horrible experience, you find a way to remind him every day to think twice the next time he’s faced with a tough choice. He is not amused. 

A/N: For @mermaidxatxheart​ 500 writing challenge; congratulations! I’m happy to be part of what could be 750 in building ;)

Prompt: “I thought you were dead.” “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?” (bold in text)

Warnings: angst, fluff, attempt at humour and action; swearing, vomiting, sort-of a panic attack, mentions of death (which you probably figured from the prompt, but hey, I didn’t have to take that literally… I did)

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“Good morning, sweetheart.”

You had been awake for about half an hour, sneaking from your bed – and how painful it had been, leaving the other occupant there – in search for caffeine; and more importantly to pick up the package that arrived for you that day. A package you had been waiting for to arrive for three days now despite requesting your order to be express.

You had been gracing your boyfriend with silent treatment the whole time and it was getting old, so you couldn’t wait for it to end your misery. Naturally, it wasn’t as simple as that, a package magically resolving your problems, it was nothing but an object, but you had been left with three days to deal with your feelings and dark thoughts until it was delivered and you appreciated it.

Symbols were important; and the package was a symbol for you, a symbol of acceptance.  

Raising your gaze from the floor at the voice, you couldn’t but smile over your cup of coffee at how reluctant Steve sounded, the great Captain America himself afraid and hesitantly wavering at the door to the communal kitchen of the Avengers’ compound.

You loved him to bits, which was why you hadn’t enjoyed torturing him (and yourself) by keeping him at arm’s length, but fuck it, he deserved every single second of it and more.

Jerk.

“Morning, honey,” you replied warmly, barely holding your laughter at bay when an utterly baffled expression settled on his face at your sudden inviting tone. It was a complete U-turn from how you had been treating him the past days. “Slept well?”

It was a tricky question and you knew that he knew. Your time in bed – reduced to very chaste displays of affection, not lovers’ ones at all – was the only time he had been allowed to touch you, because the very first time you had spent night together after the event, your body had followed its instincts and gravitated towards Steve no matter how pissed you had been. So, cuddling in your sleep was the most contact you had.

“…yes. Always do with you,” he whispered, his steps towards the kitchen slow but firm, apparently encouraged by your inviting tone.

“I’m glad. Any residual pain?”

He gulped, but his face brightened a bit at your care; you, of course, had cared the whole time, but you wouldn’t let him know too explicitly, your conversations rather clipped. When he had confronted you about it, about the way you kept treating him – with flames in your eyes –, your glare discouraged him from pressing further, his mouth opening only to fall shut again as you had stridden away.

“No. No pain at all anymore.”

You nodded thoughtfully, finishing your cup. “Good. That’s good. Coffee?”

Not needing his answer, because it was always bound to be the same, you poured him a cup.

The moment you returned the pot to its place, Steve’s large hand covered yours, the radiating heat of his body warming your back even with the slight distance between you remaining.

Turning your head to side, glancing up to his face, you saw his eyes searching in your expression, looking for an answer; did you decide to grant him a pardon?

You charmed a tight smile for him, ignoring the tug at your stomach when you remembered you had every reason not to forgive him and tell him you were done with his bullshit – and with him.

With your face still under scrutiny, his other hand landed on your shoulder, squeezing with a tinniest strength. When your gaze involuntarily flickered to his lips in response to his proximity, he knew; manoeuvring your body as if it was nothing but a puppet, he pulled you into his embrace, his cheek resting on the top of your head, his chest expanding with deep inhale.

Your shoulders fell and you felt yourself melt into his frame, your rapidly beating heart in sync with his. His own raced because he was afraid you’d push him away, just like you had been doing it for the past few days; yours did, because it recalled with paralysing precision every single painful second in which you believed you would never feel his arms around you again.

He swayed your bodies a bit from side to side, cradling you in his arms, nuzzling your hair, tightening his hold on you.

Tears stung in your eyes at the display of his guttural need to keep you close. God knew you felt the same way, craving the reassurance of his embrace.

“I love you,” he whispered to your hair and you squeezed your eyes shut so the tears wouldn’t escape. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“You’re an idiot. The biggest idiot I know, but I guess I never liked them particularly bright,” you muttered into his sleepshirt and his chest shook with hushed laughter as he took no offence. You even received a kiss to the top of your head, firm and lingering, filling every cell of your body with content and feeling of security.

Standing in the kitchen, the walls, which you had built up to be able to punish him for his crimes and to let him realize what he could lose, crumbled to dust.

It had taken a lot of strength to get to this point, leaving you drained both mentally and physically, but the package arrived today to seal the deal, as if confirming the victory of tolerance over emotions. You felt much better now, mostly because you couldn’t wait for Steve to see what you ordered for him – and for you.

“Oh. Good, you two made up. We can stop walking on eggshells around you now,” Sam’s voice interrupted your blissful bubble and you nearly jumped out of your skin at his voice. You never heard him coming.

And then he burst out laughing and you just knew he noticed the change in the kitchen decorations. It caused your lips to curl up in a smirk before you kissed Steve’s clavicle over the fabric of his shirt and withdrew.

“What’s so funny?” Steve mumbled, slightly dazed, apparently still overwhelmed with the sudden drop of cold-shoulder attitude of yours.

Sam simply grinned, pointing at the sign sitting on the top of one the fridges as he opened it in search for breakfast.

“What the-“ Steve questioned incredulously, his eyes wide as he spun to you when you snorted at his reaction. “Was this you?!”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re not being serious,” he stated, his glare flickering between you and the small black table with caption and large number written with a chalk.

You frowned at him, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “But I am. Very.”

Steve eyed the small blackboard-styled sign in a wooden frame with an obvious distaste and a pout to his lips, but he remained silent; either he couldn’t find the words or didn’t dare to speak them.

Served him right.

Stupid risk-taking dumbass.

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“Surveillance room secure. No sign of activity,” Natasha’s voice informed you through the comm in your ear.

You peeked from behind the door opened for a crack, scanning the level of the stairwell before moving from your hideout, arms stretched with your gun raised, ready to shoot. Soundlessly approaching the middle where the handrails of opposite stairwells nearly met, only leaving a slit in between to glance through, you did a quick once-over above and below you, ears pricked up to catch the tinniest of sounds that would alert you on having any hostiles present.

Still ready to fire any second if needed, you raised your hand covered in fingerless glove to your left ear. The ampullas of tranquillizers covered in black metal reflected subtly in the flickering light of the fluorescent lamp. It was no coincidence your codename was Robin; you could easily put your enemies to sleep, bringing them the night much like the bird, Tony’s invention making your job easier.

“Looks like east stairwell is clear,” you announced lowly to the rest of the team.

Similar message arrived from Sam on the roof and surprisingly, it sent a chill down your spine rather than a relief to the tension in your battle-ready body.

This was not okay. A S.H.I.E.L.D. undercover operative had reported activity only few hours ago; admittedly, it had taken you some time to get here, the distance New York – middle-of-nowhere Latvia posing a tiny problem to your time management, but the team consisting of you, Sam, Steve, Nat, Tony and Clint had been on the way with minimal delay after receiving the report.

You didn’t like this base empty. It tickled your spy-sense and not in a good way.

“West stairwell clear, heading to lower levels.”

“Starting the extraction of files. Last log-in was 6 hours ego. It’s hard to tell how much of their actual intel has been left for us,” Steve announced from the server room and if your gut wasn’t screaming at you that this was messed up, you would have smirked proudly at Steve’s skills with technology and rubbed it in face of anyone who had ever called him a grandpa.

“Feels sloppy to leave anything behind at all. The only heat signatures I’m reading are yours. Am I the only one who find this sketchy as fuck?” Tony’s voice rang from your ear and you muttered a silent ‘not at all’ under your breath.

“Heading to upper levels, since Clint is on his way down.”

“Roger that, future Mrs. Rogers,” Sam hummed over the comms and you rolled your eyes.

Poor Steve. You had been together for only few months; you were most definitely not engaged, but the rest of the Avengers kept giving Steve shit about your relationship, because a) he apparently spent months working up the courage to actually ask you out and b) you were the first girl whom he in fact was interested in to begin with after refusing like thirty different candidates from Nat (and occasionally Sam); to be fair, you couldn’t but feel incredibly flattered, learning these things, but Christ, your team was full of little shits.

Must have got it from their captain then.

“Har, har. You’re hilarious, Wilson,” you hissed quietly and mentally slapped yourself to return your full attention to the mission. Hundred percent concentration was the key to survival.

“Cut it, Sam. Focus. Twenty percent downloaded.”

“And we’re hundred percent in deep shit,” Clint announced, his words coming out strangled.

Your heart pounding due to adrenalin stopped as you awaited an explanation in dreadful silence. What?

“Get your asses out of the building! RIGHT NOW!” the archer yelled over the comms, paradoxically freezing you on spot for a moment, leaving you with thousands of question marks in your head.

“Explosives. Shit ton of them and the timer shows two minutes and change, counting down as I speak,” he added and that got you moving.

“My route’s shorter to the roof. Sam?” you demanded, index finger pressed to you ear, already heading up, hoping he would respond in affirmative.

“I got ya’, Robin.”

Speeding up despite every single muscle in your legs burning, you focused on your breathing, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Suddenly, you were very grateful for all the cardio you had been forced to do. For every single morning run-

“Steve?” your hand shot up to your comms once more.

“I’m nearly at the exit,” Clint announced instead.

“Me too,” came Nat’s voice.

You growled in frustration; Steve’s voice probably couldn’t come through as the legendary spy duo spoke practically at the same time.

As far as you knew, the servers were at the basement and the fact Steve didn’t report made your spine tingle in horrible premonition.

“Cap? Need a lift from anywhere?” Tony’s voice broke through this time and you faltered in your step. “One minute, thirty seconds.”

You finally saw the last two sets of stairs. You were sure you must have left your lungs about five floors below, but that was not why you felt your chest constricting.

“Nearly at ninety percent,” Steve hissed and this time your feet tangled enough to send you flying headfirst, only years of practice in falling saving your skull from cracking as you curled up, landing on your side.

The edges of the stairs dug into your arm and ribs, but you couldn’t care less for that, air knocked out of you altogether at the exclaim.

What the FUCK-

“Rogers, get your ass out of there!” Natasha yelled at him, out of breath herself and honestly you loved her at that moment.

You couldn’t make yourself to get up from the floor, paralyzed, panic squeezing your heart. He was not going to make it!

“Ninety-three-“

“And only a minute left, you idiot!” Tony spitted out. “Get out!”

“Robin, still on your way?”

“Ninety-six.”

“For fuck’s sake, Rogers!” Clint panted to the comms.

You only managed to blindly stare ahead, forcing your brain to imagine the blueprints of the building, calculating the route Steve might use to get out, your mind sinking into dark waters of horror as you realized there was no fucking way he would-

A crash sounded from above on your left, your head snapping that way on instinct just in time to see Sam burst in and the door hit the wall.

“Robin! Can you get up? We really need to-“

Strong hands pulled you to your feet as Steve’s voice, impatient, rang in your ears.

“Done. Heading out.”

Unfreezing, you pushed yourself and ran alongside Sam, but a bitchy sneer in your head informed you that Steve didn’t have enough time to escape the explosion at that point.

You shushed the prophet-of-doom voice with all you had and sped up.

“Don’t get seasick on me,” Sam warned you, buckling you to him via the straps on your suit and the snap-links on his, his palms sliding to your armpits. “3, 2-“

The sudden jerk and void opening beneath your feet made you dizzy and you stupidly closed your eyes in hope to make it better.

It didn’t work, your stomach somersaulting.

And then… then you were flying, speeding away from the building, two figures running tens of feet under you; Clint and Nat.

Your pair approached the ground quickly, not landing exactly gracefully, but your first instinct was to snap your head back to the enemy base, eyes hypnotizing the exit.

You found it just in time to see it swallowed up in flames, the ground shaking beneath your feet with the force of the explosion. Glass blew to shards, smoke poured through the suddenly free space of the windows.

Despite the deafening noise shaking you to your core, the world seemed to fall silent, just like your heart.

A second later, your instincts kicked in and you sprung towards the building.

“Hey!” someone shouted from a seemingly endless distance, just a dull scream in your ears; out of nowhere, you were falling, tackled to the ground. “Not happening. You’re staying right here.”

Jerking your body to get rid of the weight on you, you achieved nothing, tears of despair welling up in your eyes as you repeated the motion in vain. The void that had opened under you when Sam had carried you away seemed like nothing in comparison to the sudden rip that cracked opened in your ribcage at the image of- of Steve-- he-

You sobbed and trashed around once more, a Kevlar-clad silhouette shielding you from the view of terror. Your eyes travelled up, your gaze swimming in tears, meeting worried yet piercing green eyes of your fellow spy.

“Steve? Report! Rogers?”

Your body turned limp at the sound of his name, your eyelids sliding shut, ice crystalizing in your veins. Your whole world swayed, vertigo overtaking all of your senses so intensely you tasted gastric juices.

No one responded.

The moment the weight shifted from you, you doubled over and spitted the contents of your stomach, nearly choking on the vomit, a pit growing in your stomach.

A hand landed on your shoulder, possibly with an attempt to soothe you; with zero effect as you couldn’t breathe in properly.

“I’m scanning the building, but the heat everywhere is making it a bit difficult,” Tony informed you mechanically, no emotion in his statement.  

You had barely realized in your haze that you hadn’t seen his figure either, but you assumed the suit would protect him, more so since he had been mostly flying around the building rather than bursting in.

A violent tremble took a hold of your body, blackness edging your vision even with your eyes closed. Ashes danced behind your eyelids, fire and dust, white roses, black wood covered in fabric, red and white stripes, stars scattered over the blue, hiding the ugly truth of a fallen soldier.

A fallen soldier.

An irreplaceable leader.

A loyal friend.

Your partner.

Your lover.

Your love.

All gone.

Your hand was pressed against something solid, moving periodically and your breath instinctively attempted to match the tempo. It was really fucking hard, because your ribcage ached, your mouth felt disgusting, your heart pounded in both your chest and temples and pictures of Steve’s smile haunted you.

‘There must be some hope left for him, come on-‘

‘It blew up, you nitwit-‘

“Any-- -py? L-- help? West-- under-“ fractions of words reached your ear and you laughed hysterically, your palms instantly covering your mouth in disbelief, tears rolling down your face.

“Son of a bitch,” Clint commented behind you and you chuckled, the sound hurting you and yet relieving your tension that had been crushing you for god knew how long.

You found yourself gasping for air again, this time because you couldn’t stop laughing– and crying-- and cursing in every language you had ever tried to learn.

“Yes, we copy,” Tony announced wryly, but clearly flied to lend a helping hand to the dumbass of a captain.

Scrambling to your feet with difficulty as your legs felt strangely wobbly, Sam’s arms appeared on your sides to support your stance. You head spun with adrenalin and residual terror, endless relief slowly creeping in; you needed to see him. You needed to see him and hear his voice clearly, touching him, tasting him, soothing all of your senses with the reality of him not being blown to hell.

And then, you might kill him yourself.

But god, first you needed him to prove any way imaginable that he was still breathing.

Rationally, you knew it couldn’t take that long, but the moments of no report from Tony was tugging at your stomach, impatience filling every cell in your body as the time stretched to eternity. When Sam hesitantly let go of you, you started making your way, one shaky step after another, towards the still burning building; in hope to shorten the torturous period of not being quite sure Steve would be alright.

Eventually, the heat and smoke became too much, the danger too imminent for you to come any closer; you, unlike some other people on your team, one in particular, had some self-preservation left.

“Well and I thought you were born in the first half of the past century, not in the stone age… Gee, Rogers, that’s a lot of rubble…�� Tony complained over the channel and you instinctively winced.

Perhaps Steve wasn’t burn to a crisp, but… trapped under the stones and concrete? That did not sound any better.

Minutes were ticking by and as the adrenalin gradually left your body, you started shivering despite the heat which the flames provided.

The sudden flash of red and gold was your salvation. Like an angel of mercy, Tony flew up with a man supported only by his iron palms, carried much like you had been from the roof, and descended to your level, Steve’s feet touching the ground with barely visible stumble. The dried paths of salt on your cheeks were watered again, fresh tears rolling down in endless waterfalls, your mouth once more covered with the back of your hand; your teeth sunk into the leather of your gloves on instinct.

Steve simply stood there, ribcage expanding widely, favouring his left leg, his arm curled around his ribs as if he had been in a fight with a hostile agent who landed a few lucky hits and not with a building that had fallen on him, apparently.

Your feet acted on their own account as they brought you to him, your body crashing into his chest with ferocity, arms thrown around his middle, face buried in his shoulder. He grunted at the brutal impact of your weight, but his hand reluctantly let go of the shield and had it hit the ground, his arms sneaking around your body instead.

‘Don’t squeeze too tight,’ you scolded yourself. ‘He might be bleeding internally. Don’t squeeze him too tight, he’s hurt, because-‘

‘-because he’s a fucking idiot!’

Just as he buried his face in your hair, you jerked away, staring him down with a murderous glare.

‘He’s injured,’ you reminded yourself, but that didn’t stop you.

Balling your hand in a weak fist, you punched his chest with vigour, flaring rage replacing the dread in your veins, searingly hot and destructive.

“I thought you were dead, you—you stupid piece of-- jerk!” you spitted out venomously, your impression of a harpy ruined by your voice breaking as you choked on a sob.

His blue eyes shone bright yet tired through the smudges of dirt on his face, dust and trickle of blood on the side of his neck, seeping into the high collar of his uniform. He was a picture of misery and exhaustion, but you were torn between pity, relief and anger as he reached out for you, offering you something small in his palm.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” he rasped, voice rough from the smoke he doubtlessly inhaled. “But I got the drive-“

Snatching the stupid device from his hand, you threw it away – peripherally checking where it landed – and stretched your arm to hit him again.

Weary hand caught your blow before it could collide with its target and with a strength that surprised you he could still possess after nearly getting buried alive, he pulled you into his embrace again, wrapping you in his arms and breathing you in as if he needed to assure himself you were still in the land of living. Or perhaps he felt the urge to confirm that he was still breathing?

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he creaked lowly, his fingers flexing on the flash of your sides. “I’m okay…”

You shook your head wildly, but didn’t try to escape the cage of his arms, melting into his frame instead.

The truth was though, you fundamentally disagreed with him.

He was not okay. And you most definitely weren’t either.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

You, in contrary, adored the board. Not because it reminded you of the faults your beloved boyfriend had, but because you were hopeful that the whole team giving him shit about it would cause him to be less impulsive and more considerate of the consequences of his actions.

The sign read: ‘______ without Steve doing stupid life-threatening shit’

You had proudly written down number 3 and the word days. You prayed the number would climb (and that you might possibly write down ‘months’ instead of just days), even after Steve healed completely and returned to active duty; which was apparently about to happen very soon.

“Sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh? Nope. It’s staying right here and you better be getting to higher numbers than that.”

“But-“

“When did you ever back away from a challenge, Cap?” Sam entered your discussion subtly and you sent him a grateful wink, while Steve shot him a glare that would have had him lying in a pool of blood if a glare could kill.

“That is awfully accurate,” you noted with a tired sigh, torn between enjoying Steve’s discomfort and fighting with the anxiety caused by the fact that what Sam said was uncomfortably on point. “I can’t believe it took me so long to see the extends of your lacking self-preservation. I didn’t believe them when I first joined, you know? When they told me you were reckless…? God, I should have known better…”

“He did crash a plane before-“ “I’m not that bad-“ Sam and Steve spoke at the same time and you rolled your eyes at the former, locking your gaze with the latter.

“1 minute and 19 seconds,” you protested, not offering any context.

Both Sam and Steve seemed flabbergasted at your statement.

“Huh?”

“I asked Tony about the time,” you elaborated, voice dangerously low. “For 1 minute and 19 seconds after the explosion, there was nothing but silence from you. I thought you were dead,” you repeated your words from that day to remind him.

A flare of fury ignited in your chest again and Steve must have recognized the expression on your face, because he instantly took a step back, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

You huffed, running your hand down your face, forcing your breathing to return to normal as your glances met and you exchanged a wordless conversation.

His ‘I’m sorry,’ followed by a perfect set of kicked-puppy eyes he excelled at performing.

Your raised eyebrow in return and ‘I’m sure you are. And?’

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?” Steve resigned and it brought a victorious smirk back to your face. The victory tasted bittersweet, the fact you were still discussing his near-death experience kinda taking the satisfaction of overpowering him away.

“No.”

“And you’re gonna remind me at every occasion, aren’t you?”

“Yep,” you chipped and crossed the distance that had somehow managed to grow between the two of you. You raised your hand and repeatedly poked at his chest with your index finger; cheekily, yet deadly serious. “Until it gets through your thick skull that your life matters too much to me, to all of us, you idiotic. Piece. Of dumb-”

You never got the chance to finish your outraged clipped sentence. Steve shut you up the most effective way known to lovers of humankind.

His fingers sunk into your hair in one swift movement, pulling you in for a dramatic kiss.

And after the days of torturous distance, you gave in, convincing yourself that you’d get plenty of opportunities to give him shit about his recklessness later.

After all, you had the sign to help you with that.

Judging by the burst of laughter as the rest of the team entered the kitchen, you bet they would have your back as well.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in conciliatory manner once more, his words brushing your lips. “I love you.”

“Hpmf. I love you too. But the sign stays.”

“…dammit.”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━ ━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Sooo, I possibly made it too long? *sigh* I also hope I didn’t like… broke some rule or something, my first prompt fic and all. If I did, I’m really sorry.

Anyway, I wanted to thank @mermaidxatxheart​ for letting me be a part of this challenge. I enjoyed participating and hopefully, you people, enjoyed reading :))