#i need to be completely alone with no social media and just vomit all these feelings and trauma up into some journaling and art

[cremainsinmorningrays]

they should build a me with less shame and fear!!!!

[obvi-the-best-soph]

we're all bound to break. (chapter 2)

alexia putellas masterlist: here requests: here

based on this request: R tells alexia about her parents but makes alexia promise not to tell the team. alexia agrees of r agrees to speak to the team psychologist/ try and improve her eating and general health. either the team find out through social media or listening to r in an interview getting mad/ upset about a question about her parents. r blames alexia for telling people bc she hasn’t told anyone else. alexia comforts her + happy ending

word count: 2,123k

summary: you tell the team about your mami and papa, alexia helps you through it, an interviewer asks a tough question, and you're paid a visit from someone who is less than friendly.

genre: angst/comfort warnings: disordered eating, mentions of vomiting, death of parents, swearing, grief, struggling alone, eating while recovering from an ed, possibly very bad spanish (sorry! i try lol).

chapter 1: here

a/n: hey! ive had a lot of requests for chapter two of this story, its taken me a while because i didn't really get any requests and i was struggling for ideas, so it has taken a month, but the long awaited second chapter is here! i didn't really follow the request too closely, but I think it turned out alright, hope you do too. requests are always open. <3 :D

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“Superestrella, we need to talk. There’s something wrong, and you’re going to tell me what it is.”

You froze. You assumed there were still tear tracks down your cheeks, your eyes still bloodshot, and clearly, Alexia knew something was wrong. But she didn’t seem to know what.

“I- uh- what? There’s nothing wrong. Just… tired is all.” You try to explain, stuttering out an awful and clearly fake excuse. “You look tired too, maybe you should go to bed and we can talk later?”

“No,” Alexia states firmly, sitting down on your bed next to you. “Chica it smells like sick in here, have you thrown up?” she asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Well not really, I think I just ate something bad earlier, it was only a little bit-” You attempt to lie again, but she cuts you off. 

“Stop bullshitting me amor, just tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it,” she says. That’s the thing, Alexia’s a problem solver, a bit like a man, just wanting to fix everything for everyone so we can all be happy with no problems, but she couldn't fix this. Mami is dead. Papi is dead. They are gone. You can’t undo death, no matter how hard you try.

After nearly 20 minutes of back and forth, “There’s something wrong.” “No, there’s not, I’m fine,” Alexia pulls out the big guns, completely oblivious and unaware of how big they are now.

“Superestrella, if you don’t tell me, I’ll have to call your parents and you’ll have to talk to them. Please, just tell me, I only want to help. I hate seeing you so introverted and quiet all the time, I miss your laugh, guapa.”

And with that, the guns are fired, and the dam is broken. You burst into another round of tears, burying yourself into Alexia’s side, head on her chest. Between sobs, you manage to get out the words,

“You can’t help! No one can help! It’s all ruined!”

before falling asleep from the effort of crying and earlier, denial. Now, Alexia is seriously worried.

Alexia lets you sleep on her for a moment before carefully manoeuvring you to lie down and slipping out of your room. Once in the lounge area, she sits down on the edge of the couch, resting her elbows on her knees, face in her hands. Her thinking position, because she was thinking pretty fucking hard right now. What on Earth had happened? What had gone wrong to make her happy, giggly, pestering Superestrella, so- so…. Broken?

Finally, she decides to call Mapi, she knows that Mapi was out late celebrating last night too, and is probably also dealing with a killer hangover, similar to Alexia’s currently, but she deems this important enough to warrant a call.

The phone rings three times before a very croaky-voiced, tired, and generally-recovering-from-being-completely-plastered sounding, María León is heard;

“What Alexia?” 

“Mapi, sorry, I know now probably isn’t the best time, but… it’s Y/N, she-”

Before Alexia can even get a word of an explanation in, a now far more awake and alert sounding defender is cutting her off, clearly very worried, “Chica? What about her? Is she- is she okay? What’s wrong?”

That morning, it was organised that at training in a few days, Lucy, Keira, Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid would sit you down after training, and you would talk.

It’s been a couple of days since the Champions League final, most members of the team are still on the winning high, while others are starting to settle a bit, but today is the first training back since the big game. You go about training as normal, struggling your way through it with next to no will to live and an empty stomach, but when you’re in the locker room, Alexia taps you on the shoulder. You two haven't spoken much since the other morning after her night of celebrations.

“Hey, a few of us just want to have a quick meeting with you before we go today, sí?” she says, her tone softer, more gentle, than usual. 

You nod awkwardly and finish changing before heading to the meeting room Alexia had told you to meet at, only to find 5 of your teammates sat there, watching you like you’re a Porcelain doll that could shatter at any second, and that was slightly true. 

“Um, hola Todas?” (Hello everyone.) you say with slight suspicion, eyeing them one by one as you slowly sit down in a chair at the long glass table. There’s a collective murmur of “Hello”s in various languages before it goes quiet again. Alexia speaks up first;

“Superestrella, we’ve all noticed something is wrong, and we just want to help. Truly, that’s all we want. You are usually all sunshine and rainbows, but recently you have been walking around like you have rocks in your pockets and a storm cloud over your head. Por favor niña, déjanos entrar. (Please girl, let us in.)” she says in a slightly pleading tone, the other women are all looking at you sympathetically. 

“I- nothing is wrong. I’m just… uh… tired! I am tired. We have been training a lot recently so I haven’t been feeling the best recently! That’s it. Si. Estoy cansada. (I’m tired.)” you reply quickly, desperate to get out of here and back into bed so you can continue wallowing your sadness and grief, alone. 

They all give you soft, yet slightly unimpressed, looks of ‘Come on. We all know that’s not it.’

“Chica-” Mapi starts, but she’s cut off by Lucy’s thick accent,

“Y/N please, let us in. You know we would never judge you or anything like that, we just want to help, as Alexia said. Teammates are here to support you off the pitch just as much as on it.”

“Yeah, what Lucy said. We love you like a little sister, Y/N, and we’re worried about you.” Keira adds. 

A collective nod and hum of agreement spread through the room. You sigh. It was getting harder and harder to pretend. 

“I- ugh. Okay. Fine. There is something wrong.” You finally relent, the lump already forming in your throat, the familiar glass returning to your eyes. The 5 women around you perk up a bit, glad you’re starting to open up, even if it’s only a little.

“What is Cari? (Cariño- sweetheart.)” Ingrid speaks up for the first time, her accent thick as always. 

“It’s… it’s my parents.” They frown. They knew how close you were with your parents, especially your papa, so what could be wrong that has to do with them? You close your eyes and take a deep breath, tears falling silently down your cheeks, you’d gotten good at crying quietly, preparing to voice the words aloud for the first time. To make it all real.

“They- they’re- they- died. Dead. Gone.” you open your eyes to find 5 women staring at you in horror, eyes wide, mouths open, and sympathetic looks from them all. But it was Alexia’s face that made the tears fall, she was the only one who knew how you really felt, who truly understood. It was her arms that you felt around you first, she didn’t say anything, she just held you for a while.

After a few moments, you spoke up again, your voice a little more steady this time.

“It was 2 weeks before the Champions League final. I got the call from the police back in (your hometown), they- they were driving home from our match, there- there was a drunk driver. The driver hit them at nearly full speed, they- they didn’t survive the impact.” 

The horror on the women’s faces only grows, Alexia’s grip on you only tightens. 

It’s a good few minutes before anyone says anything else, and the one to speak up this time is Lucy.

“Oh god Y/N, that- that’s awful. Why on Earth didn’t you tell us? We would’ve helped you, supported you-” her tone, growing slightly frustrated and upset, is cut off by a firm pat on the thigh by Keira, telling her to cool it a bit, the defender going quiet.

“I- I didn’t tell you because…. Because I didn’t want you to pity me, to treat me differently, and you guys already worry about me enough, so I didn’t want to add to it right before the final. And also… I just- I just couldn’t say it out loud. Not then. It was too soon…”

That conversation or “meeting” as it’s now referred to, went on for a long time, feelings were discussed, tears fell, hands trembled, and eventually, you and Alexia were left to go home, and you felt a whole lot lighter… possibly because it had been 3 days since your last meal, or possibly because you had finally confessed your secret. 

When you arrived back at the apartment, Olga was anxiously waiting there for the two of you. During the meeting, the subject of your eating had come up, you had confessed to skipping meals and intentionally not eating, and agreed to try harder to fuel your body the way an athlete should. Clearly, Alexia had shot Olga a text or something before we arrived, as there was a bowl of your favourite sitting, waiting on the table. Eli’s (Alexia’s Mami.) homemade paella and blue Powerade. Gently, Alexia sat you down at the seat in front of it and sat next to you, she put the spoon in your hand and made you eat a few bites, and then she just slipped into conversation with you, a random conversation, about school and friends and the new set pieces, etc. And before you knew it, you had been so distracted that you had eaten the whole bowl without even thinking about it. It felt… good, being full that is. Alexia smiled softly when she saw your small smile and took your plate up to the sink, before sending you off for a bath and a nap with a kiss on the forehead. 

A couple of days after the whole ordeal, you were asked to do an interview. Where you would be talking about the Champions League final, what it was like to score both the goals for Barca, one in the last few minutes too, how you celebrated afterwards as you were not allowed in the changing rooms, but worst of all, a question you weren’t expecting, weren’t ready for, 

“So Y/N, everyone is very familiar with your papa, your biggest fan, often seen wearing your jersey and waving his flag, but he was not spotted at the final, we were just wondering, is he okay, or just sitting somewhere else?” The interviewer asks with an unknowing and innocent smile. 

You have to swallow the lump in your throat before you can respond, you manage to keep the smile on your face, and voice steady (barely). 

“Oh, yeah, no. He, um- Unfortunately he wasn’t able to make it.” You say with a curt nod and ever so slightly pursed lips, the interviewer getting the hint not to pry any further on the question.

That night, you were curled up on the couch, laying across is, your head in Alexia’s lap, crying… again. You hadn’t been prepared for that question. It had scared you, Alexia understood, she knew how hard it was to talk about it (from personal experience), especially if you aren’t aware the subject will be brought up. Alexia whispers soothing Spanish words, her nails scratching your scalp calmingly, when there’s a knock at the door. 

Alexia frowned and looked at the clock, it was 7pm, not usual visitor time, no one was meant to be coming around, Olga was out of town with friends… who was it? She carefully moves your head from her lap and kisses your forehead before going to answer the door, as she walks over, you prop yourself up on your elbows a bit to see who it is.

The midfielder opened the door to find a woman standing there, she was young-ish, probably younger than Alexia, mid-twenties maybe, but rather… uptight looking. At first, you couldn’t see who it was, the woman and Ale exchanged a few words before Alexia stepped aside, you and the woman now having a clear view of each other… 

Your expression changed quickly, features hardening, eyes narrowing, jaw clenching. You practically jumped off the couch in anger, stomping up to the woman, and standing very close to her. With a cold look and tone, you spoke to her;

“What the fuck do you want to take from me now, tía (aunt)?” you spat the last word like it tastes fowl in your mouth… 

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a/n: i hope you enjoyed it! if you are wanting a third chapter, please don't just say "chapter 3 pls" or something like that, please give me actual ideas or requests in my inbox. kind critisms is always welcome too. thank you for reading! 😊💖

tag list: @multifandomlesbianic

[sgiandubh]

Good morning, Miss Marple

It's 7 a.m, local time and I just woke up to take my antibiotic, with an alert to your latest post.

I will answer it. I think it is really needed, this time.

You write:

The problem is, I haven't accused you of anything. An Anon submission dropped in @bat-cat-reader's inbox suggested you might have used that (or any similar) application. My post just described how Snoopreport and Glassagram work, as I wrote very clearly, something you seem to conveniently ignore:

People are curious, like that. You had an Anon yourself the day before, asking you how you did your research:

You answered : 'no, there is no app for that' and I believed you. You did not say, as it would have been logical, 'there are some apps on the market for that, but I do not use them'. You just implied there are no such apps and people found your answer wanting. I do not know how this is called and I will not go there: it simply, objectively, happened like that.

I did not start anything. I didn't even mention you in my post, other than putting it into context - Anon's ask. And I simply questioned the morality of having such tools available on a deregulated market, for anyone to use in order to become Super Sleuth. Last I know, you are a person, not a firm:

I refused to accuse you of doing such a thing, in a very clear way :

It is, indeed, sad to read such things as your long diatribe. For your information, my post prompted rather this type of reactions: parents, teachers, women being worried and sickened by knowing such spying tools were available. I will select two of them:

I did mention you in my comments, though. That is true and I was very infuriated when I wrote them. Infuriated and revolted, yes. A logical reaction, for which I am sorry. Very much uncalled for: I should have kept my nerves where they do belong. Nobody is perfect and I should have completely ignored you in this context.

You also accuse me of attacking your deceased mother in a comment under another post:

This comment, to be precise:

I had no intention of slandering your family, let alone your mother, Marple. I simply meant, in a tasteless joke, you would throw anyone under the bus for the sake of a scoop. I still think you would. I am sorry to hear she is deceased and attacking one's life and family is not my way to deal with such things. Questioning the existence of a private life, when you clearly monitor someone's every breath and move on social media, is not attacking you.

Unlike you. You have no problems writing things like this one, when you need a convenient venting outlet:

As for inciting my followers, please. From the person who posted a derisive, borderline calumny bingo game featuring me, and my vomit inducing posts. Prompting them to 'have fun with it':

Is this not slander? If my goal, by explaining how two spying apps work, was to 'put you in a bad light', what was yours, when you wrote what you consistently wrote about me since at least August?

You should answer these questions to yourself, not me. I do not care about your justifications, just wanted to set the record straight on all this drama, in all honesty. My research on the apps topic took 25 minutes.

[rrcenic]

DECEMBER ONESHOTS - Genshin Impact

these were written by me, some accompanied by amazing art by some cool people!! go check em out!

some of the art is not completed, but i wanted to make sure to post this on christmas. i’ll add the art when it’s done!

they’re all modern aus, all focused on a ship :)

happy holidays and merry christmas!!

—-

FREMINET HATES PARTIES

freminet attends quite a few gatherings for his siblings, and meets an interesting boy

pairings: freminet/scaramouche

i drew this art :))

It is December 21st, and Freminet Foyer is going to pass out.

He sits in the corner of the party, clutching a red plastic cup and trying to remember how to breathe.

Sure, he could go try to find one of his siblings to help de-stress, but Lynette is busy explaining something to Charlotte and Lyney is surrounded by fans.

Perhaps the worst part of having famous siblings was the events they’d get you caught up in.

Ever since the twins had gone viral for their magic trick videos, their lives have been full of media interviews, paparazzi, sponsorships, and, perhaps the worst of all, Christmas parties.

Social anxiety is a curse. But at least he’s not the center of attention. There’s an aspect of comfort that comes with being known only as “the Foyer twin’s little brother.” You never have pressure to be anything more.

Except tonight, he’s been noticed.

“Hey, mind if I hang over here?”

Freminet looks up, and looses his breath.

Perhaps the most beautiful person Freminet has ever seen is standing there. Pale skin framed with dark purple hair, and deep lavender-blue eyes. His dark eyeliner and red eyeshadow are perfectly done, and his outfit is graceful and androgynous.

“Enjoying the view?” the strange boy laughs, and Freminet notices he has been staring.

“S-sorry- I’m- I’m not very good at this kind of… of thing…”

“You’re fine. Trust me, you’re one of the most normal people I’ve seen tonight. Wanna get a beer? Your cup is empty.”

Freminet blushes. “N-no thanks, I’m 16-“

The stranger laughs again. It’s a disturbing sound, eerily enticing. “I’m 17, but you don’t see that stopping me. Hey, no pressure if you don’t want any, though. Kudos to you for making good decisions.”

You know what? Fuck it. Father never seemed to care when the twins came back hammered. Freminet gave a slight smile and grabbed a can from the table, downing it in three sips.

“Wow, impressive. I’m Scara. Scara Raiden. I’m only here because my mother and her wife are rich shitheads, and any excuse to tarnish their reputation must be taken.”

The younger man was slightly taken aback. Scara was… opinionated. And loud about it. But not in the way Lyney was, being open as a way to sweet talk into getting his way. No, Scara seemed to be brash simply for the sake of being brash.

Freminet wondered if he was single.

He opened his mouth to ask Scara for his number…

And vomited onto the hardwood floor, barely missing Scara.

Oh god. Oh god, Freminet can’t breathe.

“Oh shit, are you alright?! Is it okay if I touch your arm?”

Freminet nods. Strange, for the circumstance, but the asking of consent for contact was nice. If only he hadn’t thrown up and made a complete idiot of himself.

Scara leads him outside and sits next to him on the cool stone steps, rubbing circles on his back.

“Wow, you can’t hold your liquor, can you?”

Freminet shakes his head. His voice comes out hoarse. “No. I mean, I don’t really drink… but my siblings do, and you seemed impressed…”

Scara scoffs. “Dude, you don’t need to impress me. I mean, I saw you having a panic attack and looking lost and alone, and I still came over. It’s kind of obvious that I think you’re cute.”

Wait. He. So. He’d been flirting the whole time?!

It’s Scara’s turn to go red. “I… I mean- I would… I’d like to get to know-“

“What’s your number?” Freminet blurts.

Scara grins, and looks at the door frame above them. “Huh. Mistletoe. If you hadn’t just puked your guts out, I’d ask to kiss you.”

“If I hadn’t just puked my guts out, I’d say yes.”

—-

DIRECTIONALLY CHALLENGED

navia attempts to prove herself to her wife by answering once and for all: can gays drive?

pairings: navia/clorinde

the lovely @eternal-moss made the art!!

apologies for spelling mistakes, my phone really wanted to correct clorinde to chlorine 😭😭😭

It is December 22nd, and Navia Rosula is definitely not lost.

At least, that’s what she is reassuring her wife.

“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Clorinde asks again, as Navia takes yet another right turn.

“Yes! I’ve been this way, like, 6 times!”

“Never at night. While it’s snowing.”

Clorinde had her there. Navia sighs, and pulls over, dirty blond hair spilling over the dashboard as she rests her head on the black leather steering wheel.

“Fine- I’m lost. I’ve just… I usually have all these chauffeurs and drivers, being the daughter of a wealthy father and all… and I… I really wanted to prove to you that I can do something for myself! I don’t want to let you down, not on our first Christmas as wives!”

Clorinde smiles. “First of all, I know you can do things. You’re one of the most capable people I know. And secondly, I’m an atheist and you’re Jewish. Christmas doesn’t have some kind of Hallmark meaning to me. Or you.”

Navia sniffles. “I know… but, I thought you really wanted to go to this party…”

Clorinde laughs. “‘Via, I have no interest in milling around with a bunch of rich kids. What do you say we call it a night, and go home? You can call Meluse and Silver right now, and they can order us a pizza?”

Navia smiles. “I’d like that, yeah.”

Clorinde pecks her cheek. “Oh, and one more thing?”

“Yes?”

“Let me drive.”

“…fine.”

—-

ZHONGLI IS A GOOD DAD

in which xiao gives childe a chance

pairings: zhongli/childe, zhongli is xiao dad

art by the amazingly talented @nickwildelvr !!

It is December 23rd, and Zhongli Lapis-Morax is about to potentially destroy his relationship with his son.

6 days ago, Ajax proposed. It was…magical. They were at a nice Italian restaurant, Zhongli’s favorite place in town. A ring, miraculously in his glass.

For 6 days, Zhongli has been filled with a flood of joy, hope… and anxiety.

Zhongli had adopted a four-year-old Xiao 11 years ago, from an abusive home. The boy was fearful and distant, and when he did finally become close to Zhongli, he stayed unsure of anyone else. Especially grown men.

Xiao also despised Ajax. Though this was completely unrelated to his traumatic past, Zhongli still wanted to give his son as much grace as possible when it came to new adjustments.

But they’d been together for almost two years. And the only improvement in Xiao’s attitude was that he was no longer frightened of his father’s partner, and felt perfect fine insulting him to his face.

And still, Ajax, sweet, understanding Ajax, had kept trying and trying to make a real connection.

He’d asked when Zhongli planned on telling his son, just last night. They were laying in bed, Ajax scrolling through his phone and Zhongli comfortably nestled with his head in the crook of his neck, face pressed against unruly ginger locks. Zhongli changed subject immediately.

And it’s been 6 days. 6 days since Zhongli made a long-term commitment. 6 days that he has avoided his son.

3:45 pm. Every other Sunday at 3:45, Zhongli picks up Xiao from his practice with his rock band. Their music is not amazing, but anything that makes his son happy makes Zhongli happy.

Xiao is waving goodbye to his friend (Whst was his name?? Aether??) when Zhongli pulls up at the house. The teen hurries over, the green highlights in his dark hair glinting in the sun. Zhongli had been opposed to the dye at first, but had grown to enjoy the look. It was really the only color that Xiao would wear, anyway.

Xiao smiles at his father, but avoids his attempts for a hug, grumbling something under his breath. He climbs into the passenger seat of the old silver minivan, and immediately pulls out his phone.

After a minute of driving in silence, Zhongli musters up his courage to raise the subject.

“Xiao, dear, could I have your attention for a short while?”

Xiao looks up. “Yeah, sure. Everything okay?”

Zhongli takes a deep breath, and pulled over to the side of the road.

This is it. Xiao is never going to speak to him again.

“…I know you dislike Ajax…”

Xiao groans.

“Xiao… please-“

Xiao scoffs. “Whatever you want to lecture me about isn’t really that important, is it? Just let me be-“

“Ajax asked me to marry him!”

Silence.

Dead silence.

“Ajax asked me to marry him, and I… I said yes. He… he makes me happy, Xiao. Please. For me. For Christmas. Give him a chance?”

Xiao stayed silent.

Zhongli closed his eyes. Oh god, Xiao is so upset. How was he going to fix this??

Without warning, Xiao leaned across the seat and hugged him. Zhongli was taken aback, but quickly pulled Xiao closer.

The teen mumbled something into his father’s chest.

“Hmm?”

“For you. I’ll give him a chance, for you.”

Zhongli grinned, eyes brimming with tears. It was going to be okay. They were going to be okay.

—-

KAVEH NEEDS A HUG (tw for suicidal ideation/attempt)

in the end, alhaitham will always be there for him

pairings: alhaitham/kaveh

art by the epic@kavehboobs !!

It is December 24th, and Kaveh Singh is going to kill himself.

It’s not really a solid plan. But he’s alone, half-drunk, and he doesn’t think Alhaitham is coming home.

The cold two-room apartment is dark. Its vacant. The marble kitchen counter casts a cool shadow on the tall tan walls. The blond shivers, and tightens his grip on the half empty bottle of wine.

Alhaitham isn’t home. Alhaitham promised to be home by 6 pm, or to call. Alhaitham never changes his plans. Alhaitham left him on read.

It hits him like a slap. He’s alone. Alhaitham isn’t coming home. He’s finally had enough, and left Kaveh to rot. On Christmas eve.

Kaveh doesn’t want to wake up on Christmas alone. And so he has a date with a bottle of pills.

And yet… he hesitates. Because he is a coward, because he is brave, he doesn’t know.

He’s crying. Typical Kaveh. That’s what ‘Haitham would say if he were here. Typical pathetic Kaveh.

The architect lets out a choked sob. 11:45 pm. It’s going to be Christmas in 15 minutes. In 15 minutes, he’s going to do it.

Kaveh hears a car pull up in the driveway.

The doorbell rings.

The lock clicks.

The door swings opens, and a tall dark figure with soft gray hair steps in.

Haitham.

Alhaitham must be here to get his things.

“Kaveh, I apologize for my lateness, I- …have you been crying?”

Kaveh sniffs, and ignores his boyfriend. Alhaitham doesn’t get the hint, and his eyes fall on the bottle of pills.

“Kaveh, what the hell- why do you-“

It clicks. Alhaitham silently grabs the orange canister and the drink. Kaveh feels strong arms wrap around his shaking body.

“Kaveh… love…”

Kaveh whips his head around. “Why didn’t you call?! I thought you’d left me! I- I thought-“

Alhaitham sighs. “My phone died, love. I would never leave you. Listen to me, I swear it on my life.”

Kaveh laughs, watery and shrill.

“My god, I’m an idiot. You’re dating an idiot, you know that?”

Alhaitham kisses his temple. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Can you be safe to stay at home? Will you let me take care of you?”

Kaveh nods into Alhaitham’s shoulder.

“Hey… it’s midnight…”

“Merry Christmas, Kaveh, you dumbass.”

“Merry Christmas. Now kiss me, please.”

—-

VENTI STOPS HIMSELF FROM COMMITTING A MURDER

after kaeya leaves venti and diluc his cat to take care of, things go south fast.

pairings: diluc/venti

art by the amazing @peachtaglia !!

It is December 25th, and Venti Ragdnvindr needs an allergy pill.

He is this close, this close to grabbing his brother-in-law’s blasted cat and hurling it out the window. But that would probably make him sneeze more.

It is a cute cat. A russian blue, 2 years old, named Alexandria, Kaeya had proudly told them when he dropped her off yesterday evening. Venti wishes he’d just brought the cat with him on his trip to the mountains, but the Dragonspine Ski Lodge doesn’t allow pets, and his husband does owe Kaeya a favor.

And so it’s Christmas. 6 am. He should be asleep. Or having a sleepy holiday morning makeout session with Diluc. Or opening gifts with the housestaff.

However, he can’t really do anything at the moment. As there is a cat sitting squarely on his chest, staring into him with its beady little eyes. The Ragdnvindr’s portie, Dvalin, is still curled at their feet. That’s just great. When Venti finally needs a brave guard dog, Dvalin seems to have no problem dozing away. But when he hears a doorbell ring on the TV, he’s ready to rip someone’s head off.

Diluc is still asleep, deep red hair splayed on the pillow beside Venti. His chest rises and falls, peaceful. He’s wearing a gag gift from his brother that reads “I SAVED MONDSTADT AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS SWEATER.” Venti doesn’t want to wake him.

But unfortunately, he sneezes. Diluc grumbles and sits up, sighing.

“Merry Christmas, Ven-“

“Diluc. The cat is going to kill me, Diluc.”

“…What?”

The evil creature yawns, and stretches. Venti shrieks.

“Hon, it’s just a little kitten. Want me to move her?”

Venti shakes his head, and sneezes again. “NO!! Don’t touch it! It’s not safe!”

Diluc roles his eyes and smiles, reaching for the cat.

With a yowel, she launches herself at the couple, claws bared. Venti tries to scream, but instead falls into a fit of sneezing.

By the time they manage to put the cat in her cage, Venti’s nose is red and both him and Diluc are covered in scratches.

Diluc, surprisingly, laughs.

“Well, that was certainly some way to start Christmas. Wanna go back to bed?”

Venti grins. “That sounds lovely.”

—-

again, merry christmas and thanks for checking this out!! so much love and thanks to @peachtaglia @eternal-moss @nickwildelvr @kavehboobs for making stunning art <33

hope y’all enjoyed!!

[anarchistartistvt]

really hope ur doing okay man!! people need to get off ur ass when you literally didnt do anything wrong

I’m just empty as hell man. I thought I was doing the right thing.

I’ve had people who I’ve known for months, YEARS, shit talk me and air out grievances they never brought up with me. Seeing them call me insufferable, pathetic, clout chasing, etc. Really fucked with my head.

I’ve always struggled with trusting people openly due to growing up with a narcissist, so to see shit like that, it broke me. It’s like, now I don’t know who all I can trust anymore. People can say they’re your friend, your fan, your secret admirer, anything resembling a positive bond; yet they’re the first to leave you for dead.

It’s a problem with social media in general. Some people(not all) will use your friendship for clout and will milk that friendship until it’s shriveled up and bleeding in the dirt. Even when they drop you the minute you get into trouble, they will use that friendship against you, saying “we were such good friends, I’m so disappointed in you, you let me down, etc.”

And there’s some people who will become your closest friends just to vomit every complaint about you the minute you get into shit and they see an opportunity.

It’s extremely pessimistic and depressing, but it’s a sad truth. Now it’s left me empty and confused and scared. When people cut ties over this, the only thought going through my head was “Was your reputation at stake, or was this just a way out for you?”

I have horrible abandonment issues and previous experiences have worsened it. When you lose the people who are the closest to you, it’s like the world goes eerily silent. Even if those people treated you horribly, you still end up clawing at their feet, sobbing, screaming for them to not go. It hurts, and it leaves you in a perpetual round of Russian roulette. If you reach out to someone, it could either go well or it could completely backfire and retraumatize you.

I don’t know who I can trust anymore on these platforms. I’m scared that these issues will keep happening over and over, and the only way to break the cycle is to compartmentalize everything and not get close to others. Granted, I know this is just trauma speaking, but it’s still a nagging thought that someday someone could turn around and burn you the minute you speak up.

Even now, I just want to crawl back to every person who left and beg them to take me back. It won’t solve anything and it will just hurt me more, knowing their true feelings, but I’m just scared of being alone.

I’m fucking scared, dude.

[freesia-writes]

There has been a distinct theme on my dash today, and I wanted to make a separate post about it cause it applies to all fandoms and all writing in general.

PLEASE forgive anything that may come across insensitively; I’m using quote marks for words I don’t necessarily agree with but don’t know what else to use, and if my loving intent is blurred by any poor wording choices, feel free to call it out. 💕

Something amazing happens when a story is written through the eyes of a main character who experiences life through significantly different lenses than the prominently portrayed experience in media (white, cis, comfortable financially, hetero, neurotypical, etc etc), and I think it’s even more impactful when the story isn’t *about* the “differences”. A number of wonderful things occur here:

People who usually don’t feel represented or can’t relate to most media are given the chance to feel what “mainstream” viewers experience.

People who share traits with the main character don’t feel so alone.

People who don’t relate or share the experience can begin to understand it in a new way, more so than just “learning” about it.

I think it also can slip past the biases we all hold — my 67yo white dad isn’t going to read a book featuring a main character with anxiety and panic attacks if the book is something like “How to Have Empathy for Mental Struggles”, but when it’s this real, fleshed-out person and you’re hearing the experience through their eyes in the context of an awesome plot… It gets in there. ;)

It also provides such a rich opportunity to expand our understanding beyond our default egocentrism, in ways we might not seek out intentionally, and it can really open our eyes to social issues more than traditional activism, I think. Why?

Not everyone has felt the suffocating weight of depression, not as “just sadness” but as complete emptiness that makes you just want to sleep so life can pass by a little faster.

Not everyone experiences a racing mind, elevated nervous system, and feeling of being taken over by something other than “you” to the point where daily tasks are overwhelming.

Not everyone can relate to being unable to fall asleep because the waistband of your pants is too thick and is right across your hip bone and you sleep on your stomach and it drives you crazy if you can’t get it just right.

Not everyone can relate to feeling terrified to the core when your dad gets pulled over by the cops and you’re so worried that you want to vomit in the back seat.

Not everyone has lived with a disconcerting sense of not feeling at home in their own body, and are overloaded with all the voices screaming 8 million different things of what they “should” be or feel or do.

Not everyone has been accused of being lazy, inconsiderate, or undisciplined when they’re actually as well-meaning and loving as could be, but their brain works differently and sometimes time just gets away from them.

These are just a few examples, and maybe I’m way late to the game here and y’all are like… DUH. 😂🙈 But I was just so delighted with this new fic, where the reader is autistic, anxious, etc, that it sent me on a thought trail.

The main reason I wanted to lay it out is to encourage all you writers out there who LIVE these realities to bring them into your characters instead of trying to mainstream your stories so they’ll reach a wider audience or whatever your motive may be. We NEED to hear amazing fanfics and original works from experiences that are wildly different than our own. It will expand our understanding, increase our empathy, and hopefully bring more unity instead of all the arguing and clamoring to be heard.

But, as always, I’m just another idiot on the internet so take it with a grain of salt. 😉

xoxo

[arsenalgbt]

Wilo complimented the photo of the baby and Ben genuinely had a moment where he thought about lying and saying it was his godson. He felt guilty about that all day and beat himself up about it. When Ben rejects Wilo’s sexual advances, Wilo is an angel about it and backs off completely. It drives Ben insane because is Wilo playing hard to get like pre-baby Ben would have done or is he actually a nice and respectful guy? Ben knows who he thinks Wilo is, knows who he needs and wants Wilo to be but he’s not entirely certain that the reality matches up. He drives Ben crazy.

Ben getting pregnant was an accident. He’d seen Leo do it and thought no chance but that’s because he never saw himself settling down or anything. Leo and KT had their first kid young (I am desperate to drop that lore on you ngl) and it had left Ben kind of scarred. He was in his young and reckless phase, dragging Dec out as often as could and ignoring anyone who recommended he slowed down. Kalvin had always been around – when Dec didn’t come out, Kalvin was Ben’s second call meaning he went out with Kalvin a lot. They’d hooked up a lot and Kalvin had always toyed with Ben a little bit, saying that when they were ready to settle down that they would. That they should get a house and have a kid and be the couple in their friend group that people were jealous of. Kalvin only talked about it when they were tipsy, he had sold Ben a dream long before their casual sex turned into a full fling and Ben got knocked up. Ben went to the doctor with what he thought was a nasty vomiting bug only to learn he was pregnant – Kalvin hadn’t taken care of him when he was sick, just sent him a text saying to let him know when he was better. Ben didn’t freak out when he found out because he thought he had Kalvin, he thought it would be okay and had even considered doing a cute pregnancy announcement. Instead he just blurted it out as soon as possible the next time he saw Kalvin who reacted positively and seemed fine. Ben woke up the next morning to a note from Kalvin saying he was sorry but he couldn’t do it and was fine with whatever choices Ben made. Ben tried to call him but Kalvin ignored him and had seemingly deactivated all his social media accounts. A few weeks later, he’d hear through the grape vine that Kalvin was in Manchester and pretended to have known. Even though Kalvin was gone, Ben still thought he would come back and kept the baby because he knew that someday Kalvin would come back to him. It was when he was laying in the hospital bed, with Kieran holding his son in the chair by his bed, that Ben realised it wasn’t going to happen. He realised he was alone in that moment and once again Kieran was kind enough to keep his mouth shut about the breakdown he witnessed Ben having.

Dec, Leo and KT all know the baby is Kalvin’s baby even if Ben claims it was just some random hook up. Around the time of Ben getting pregnant, he’d been texting more and seemed lighter and even declined Dec’s invitation to go out which all of them thought was suspicious. They assumed that when he sent a text saying he needed to talk to all of them that he would tell them he was in a relationship but it was actually him announcing his pregnancy  and lying to them about who the father was. Kalvin mysteriously leaving London had seemed odd at the time but based on how bitter Ben was when his name came up, the lads were able to put two and two together. They pretend for Ben’s sake not to know anything.

SCREAMING PLS SEND ME KTROSSARD LORE ON A SEPARATE ASK PLS PLS PLS PLS PLS PLS with how much u overshadowing ben's "jealousy" towards what ktrossard have LMAO are ktrossard actually married or just partners??????

back to ben's lore

do you think he actually LIKES being pregnant? I think he did like it even when he was all alone. he craves it, misses it, even though he has his 13 months old son growing perfectly every single day. but he likes carrying a life within him I bet 😍😍😍😍😍 ((( like rl ben is so mother hen-like on the pitch towards b and Martin lol ))) >>> obviously kai would confide to him. they're in a somehow less ideal predicament compared to Leo, who's happy and is in a team working towards the same goal with KT.

but pls, spill what makes ben will finally FINALLY give in and start trusting/allowing willo to date him? just the little step... what is it...

also smh kalvin spouting promises he never intended to keep........... he just liked being pampered by ben I knew it............ mommy issue from Kalvin's side............ of course!!!!!!

[faunabel]

bleh. vent. sorry.

man...... i don't usually compare myself to others but being around ppl who love historical hetalia and talk abt their in depth thoughts makes me feel so Inferior

like i'm just too stupid and silly and dumb to come up with anything like that and stick to simpler stuff

i know this stems entirely from being around Toxic historical hetalia fans in the past who'd shit on canon nonstop and made me rly hate myself for... u know. following canon.

i like to follow canon and try to combine it with history to make sense but i just ugh. i feel dumb. i feel incompetent and stop myself from even doing it to try and preemptively avoid being attacked

the fandom is smaller now which makes me even more anxious? because there r less people so i'm more likely to be found by Mean People and there r also less people who Get Me to try and find

anyway sorry i just needed to vent. i wish i was more comfortable in myself but i feel like i'm always using all my energy to not be targeted that i forget how to even exist. sometimes i really do. people ask me things and my brain goes blank. all i can think about is what do they want? what do they expect from me? how can i be what they want from me? i completely lose access to who i am and what i want because i don't feel safe wanting or needing or being a person. i just need to be a doll who submits to them so i don't get hurt.

i want to be one of those people who just shares their thoughts no matter how self indulgent but i feel so embarrassed. eugh. even with non-self indulgent things. liking things is embarrassing. exposing my thoughts is too vulnerable.

i'm slowly exposing myself to try and get more comfortable but i wish! i could just be comfortable now!!!!!! and not expend so much of my limited energy just sharing my thoughts. trauma processing takes too long.

ugh. oh the need to belong but the fear of being seen. people have just been so mean to me and i'm struggling to accept that it was in the past. not currently happening. but i don't want it to happen again :/ and on tumblr, unlike other social media, it's so easy to find old posts, so it just makes me uncomfortable that my posts won't Die In The Void u know? blahblah how my thought process works word vomit self contradiction as i figure out my words and so on

i just. hate being such an outlier in things. i wish i could be normal and like normal things and have friends who like the things i like. but i'm weird and nobody gets it and i'm sad. i hate being alone. i don't wanna be alone. i hope someday i can meet people who like the same things i like or are open to the idea. my silly fantasy is to live in a world where i'm just. normal. i actually see myself in others. and people are like me. i'm like them. no more floating aimlessly like a bird who fell from its nest.

i am holding out on hope but rn i wanna cry so i'm gonna go do that

gonna manifest away this avpd i swear........ it's ruining me. u ruined my child and teen years. i beg u. let me try to find happiness now. time goes on and i lose time and it scares me.

[sleepy-belphie]

I have a request if you’re up for it. An MC who just arrived in the Devildom who’s lover just dumped them the day prior. The bros know MC isn’t emotionally or romantically available at the time but the bros still fall in love regardless. How will the bros handle the situation? Thank you! 🙏💗

Hi! I sort of took this idea and ran with it and wrote basically a headcanon short story for each bro lmao. Sorry I got a bit carried away but I hope you like this and it satisfies you! :) 

Also thank you so much @midnight-dome for the help with Asmo, you’re a lifesaver

Tags: @kawaiiblack

~~~~~

Lucifer:

The success of the program depends on your wellbeing

So he checks in on you every other day like clockwork 

“Is there anything you need to make your stay more comfortable?”

You always say no

At first, he’s glad you’re staying in 

Because it means less trouble for him

But when you skip all of your classes one day, he comes to your room ready to give you a firm reminder of your tasks here

He’s about to knock when he hears you sob 

Now, Lucifer has heard a lot of crying in his life

But he’s never heard someone sound so completely broken

He shocks himself when he turns on his heels and walks away

He shocks himself even more when he texts the group chat and demands everyone leaves you alone for the day

That evening he comes into your room with a small plate of food

By then you were are least on top of your sheets

You knew he was gonna ask the same question as always

But this time, his words were different

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Help?” 

He simply nods

And though he didn’t outright say what he meant by help, you knew

“I...don’t know?”

“Hm, okay. I’m going to listen to some music in my study. The door will be unlocked should you wish to join me.”

Then he’s gone

The few precious moments Lucifer isn’t working, he prefers to not be disturbed

So why on earth did he invite you to join him in his study?

He doesn’t have time to ponder it because the door opens and you come in with a blanket wrapped around you

The first night you both listen in comfortable silence

A few nights in, you start asking Lucifer about the records he puts on and he has no qualms educating you on it

On night 10 you tell him about the breakup

Once you’re done he, again, asks the same question

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

‘You’ve done more than enough to help me Lucifer, thank you.”

He finds himself blushing from the sincerity in your eyes and the warmth in your smile

That night you fall asleep before the record finishes

Surely you’d wake up aching if he left you in a chair

So he picks you up, carries you to your room, and tucks you into bed carefully

He tells himself he’s doing it for Diavolo

It’s for the program, this is his job

He’s gonna need time to accept his own feelings before he can tell you anything

For now, he’ll keep doing his “job” and spending evenings with you

Mammon:

He didn’t want to be your babysitter

He was a busy guy! He had stuff to do, money to make, things to steal

Some days he gets Beelzebub to keep an eye on you so he can do what he wants

One night in particular he heads to your room to make sure you won’t interfere with his plans

“Yo! The Great Mammon has things to do so don’t-”

He pauses when he sees you sitting on your bed with your headphones plugged into your laptop

He would have assumed you were just watching a sad movie by the tears streaks on your face

But the pain in your eyes…

He’s seen that look before

His brothers held that same look the day they fell from Heaven and lost Lilith

Mammon sits on the bed and you jump, finally noticing him

You expected him to make fun of you but instead, he grabs the tissue box on your bedside table and hands it to you

He glances at your laptop to see what you were watching and sees a paused video of you and someone else

You tell him about the breakup and Mammon listens closely

“What a jerk! Ya deserve better than that! I’d teach ‘em a lesson if they ever showed their face around here!”

You smile for the first time since he came in the room and he feels like he’s done something right

“How about we get some late-night food? I know a 24-hour restaurant with the best baked newt ever. Your treat.”

He’s shocked when you agree

He makes a point to hang out with you more often

He can’t recall exactly when you went from “a human” to “his human” 

Maybe it was when you held his hand while you erased all your photos and videos of your ex from your computer

Or when you texted him at 3am because you couldn’t sleep and before he could even think about it he was up and on his way to your room

Or when he spotted you in one of his jackets while walking home from RAD

But his greed was kicking in and he wanted you to be his and only his

However, much like he puts himself first, he knows you need to do the same

So though his nature and mind wants to kiss you silly and have you for himself

Part of him knows he’ll ruin things if he lets his greed take over

So he’ll fight his nature and try his best to be patient

Leviathan:

He had been playing one of his games online

He’s on a big winning streak and feeling a bit cocky

He sees he’s been matched with someone else so he gets into gamer mode 

Then he loses the first round

He’s a bit shocked and pissed that his streak was now broken but he has to prove his superiority to whoever this opponent was

So he rematches them

And loses again

And again

He loses 7 rounds in a row

By this point he is fuming

So like any salty gamer he sends a very lengthy, angry message to their inbox

Accusing them of using cheats and hacks because there was no way anyone was more skilled than him at this game

He gets a reply a few minutes later

“Um.....is this Leviathan? Avatar of Envy? It’s MC…”

You knew it was Levi because his username is the same across all his social media platforms

Cue Levi barreling into your room a minute later

“How are you so good!? You’re cheating, aren’t you!? You cheater!’

You weren’t cheating, you just had been playing games day in and day out to distract yourself so you got really good at it

Levi all but demands you to come to his room and show him what you know

You were already playing all night anyway so why not play with someone? 

Initially, Levi would have you come over just to show him your tactics 

(Also to get some team wins on his stats because he never has anyone to play with)

But you were actually pretty chill for a normie

Maybe if he exposed you to his otaku ways you would take to them and he wouldn’t be the only one in the house anymore!

You don’t become an otaku but you do get invested in almost every anime he shows you

He starts inviting you over for midnight premieres of new episodes

He starts buying extra merch because what if you wanted one?

He was used to disproving looks from his brothers when he mass buys stuff from Akuzon

But you only smile and listen when he tells you about his new special edition item

You never once judged him and his unconventional ways

This epiphany makes him extra nervous for your weekly hangouts

It was only a matter of time before you came across a break up in an anime

When the episode ended you told him about your break up and how the protagonist reminded you of yourself because they also were taking a break from love

Levi has seen this anime before actually

He remembers how the protagonist reacted to a side character confessing to them and it went bad

So while he knows he likes you, he holds off on saying anything because the last thing he wants is to be a bad story arc in your life

Lucky for him he’s always a flustered blushing mess so you shouldn’t suspect a thing

Satan:

He is the Avatar of Wrath so whenever there is rage, he is aware

He feels anger radiating through the house one day and thinks his brothers are just fighting again

Imagine his surprise when he realizes the source of the anger is coming from your room

He walks in and sees you throwing things around and screaming, your room was destroyed

He sees you’re about to step on some glass and instantly swoops in and picks you up so you don’t hurt yourself

But then you curl up against him and burst into tears

He stands there, not quite sure what to do 

He ends up sitting on the bed and letting you cry for a while

You word vomit about your break up and he listens carefully and notes the anger welling up inside you as you speak

He knows all too well what anger can do to someone and a fragile human shouldn’t have to go through that

“Would you like some tea?”

He can spare 30 minutes for some small talk with the human if it meant that you wouldn’t be left in your thoughts

You look at him like he has three heads but agree because your room is a mess and you don’t wanna deal with it right now

Tea time becomes a daily occurrence and soon enough it escalates to full-on hangouts

Going to the bookstore, going to cat cafes, going wherever you wanted to really

One time you both took a day trip to the human world

Lucifer wasn’t happy to find out his brother and you were gone for an entire day but he lets it go when he sees that you’re smiling genuinely for the first time in weeks

What Satan didn’t expect was how these outings made him feel

He finds himself distracted from his books because he can’t stop thinking about how cute you looked holding that black cat at the cafe

Or how happy you looked when you took him to that ice cream shop in your hometown that you really love

He wakes up and you’re the first thing to pop into his mind

He’s not dumb, he knows he’s fallen in love

But he also knows this isn’t the right time, you aren’t ready

So he’ll keep being there for you as a friend

And if you ever want him to be there as something more, he’ll happily oblige

Asmodeus:

There was a movie night at the House of Lamentation

Today’s movie was an action movie, courtesy of Mammon

Amidst all the face punching and explosions, there was a budding romance between the main characters

After the third obnoxious makeout scene, you leave the room claiming you need to go to the restroom

But you leave just a *little* too fast and Asmo can feel something is up

And he thrives on gossip so he intends to find out what is it

He leaves the room a few minutes later and catches you in the hallway, determined to get you to spill the tea

You tell him about the breakup

He wasn’t prepared for the tea to be so bitter

“Oh. Well, you know what’s good for that? Face masks!” 

He had to save face somehow and beauty was his default

He’s a bit shocked when you agree but you both ditch movie night to do face masks and talk a bit

He decides to share a couple of bad date experiences he’s had to make you feel better

“Trust me, you haven’t felt embarrassment until you have someone vomit Enfield brains on your new pants and shoes while at one of the hottest clubs in the Devildom.”

You spent the entire night giggling and listening to his stories

Devildom products are surprisingly effective on your skin so you keep asking Asmo to show you new products

Plus his company is nice

Self-care days become a common occurrence

Then those self-care days become self-care sleepovers

He starts intentionally waiting to try anything new because he wants you to be there when he does

He buys more of those scented candles you told him smelled nice

A few weeks later you’re having a self-care sleepover again and you have this really cute focused look on your face while painting your nails

He knows he likes you, but this was different than his usual attraction

He didn’t want to fuck you

Well he did but not just fuck you

He wouldn’t mind if there was something more

But you routinely ended your self-care nights by yelling ‘Fuck love!’ at the top of your lungs and laughing

So he knows now isn’t the time and he’s actually okay with that

You were a sight to behold regardless of his relationship status with you

But he hopes you’ll indulge in him one day

Beelzebub:

Mammon keeps pushing his human watching duties on Beel

But he doesn’t really care because he’s being paid in cheesecake

After his third day of keeping an eye on you, he notices you aren’t eating much

Being the Avatar of Gluttony, this is basically a crime

He starts bringing extra snacks with him when he hangs out with you

“I think the chocolate flavor is better than the vanilla. What do you think?”

He actually doesn’t have a preference 

He just wants to know which snacks you like more so he can bring more of them

He makes a game out of it so you don’t think about how much you’re eating

“It motivates me to work out longer when I get a snack, could you help me?”

You sit on his back and after every pushup, you both eat a bit of whatever snack he has

He keeps going until he thinks you’ve eaten a decent amount

Or you say you’re getting full

Belphie notices that Beel is refilling his snack stash more often but he doesn’t say anything

Beel feels an immense sense of accomplishment when you finish your plate at dinner a few days later

Soon after you tell him about the breakup

“It hit me hard but you made it easier to cope, Beel. These hangouts are the highlight of my day so thank you.”

There’s a certain pang Beel gets in his stomach when he’s really hungry

Somehow your words made that pang happen in his chest

But this didn’t hurt him, quite the opposite actually

He felt good, he felt happy

It was strange for his stomach to be the quiet one while his heart went wild

But this wasn’t a change he minded too much

He wasn’t sure what to make of it but he knows he wants to figure it out with you

And he’ll take his time doing so because he liked how things were now

Belphegor:

He’s intrigued by you after the first week of your stay

He’s never seen a human who slept as much as he did

Frankly, he was impressed

Until Lucifer informed everyone about your recent breakup and made it clear to not upset you

That’s when Belphie realized these were not the leisurely naps he takes, but depression naps

One day he sees you sleeping in the living room and you looked so distressed

Sleeping was meant to be a peaceful state but you looked so unhappy

So he wakes you up

“You’re in my sleeping spot.”

You weren’t in his sleeping spot.

“Oh sorry, I’ll move-”

“You’re already here. We can both fit.” 

Before you can protest he’s all comfy next to you and falling back asleep

Having another person next to you was kind of comforting so you let it go and go back to sleep

What you didn’t know was Belphie could partially influence your dreams

He can make them more pleasant but he can’t control what you dream about

He knows it works when he wakes up and you have a relaxed expression on your sleeping face

You wake up soon after looking confused

“Good dream?”

“I think? I had a dream I rode a unicorn to the moon then carved my initials into it?”

Napping together in the living room becomes a routine

And every time you woke up you told him about the dream you had with a small smile

A few weeks later he notices he no longer has to influence your dreams for them to be good

So he leaves you be and instead curls up in the attic for his afternoon nap

He wakes up a bit when he feels someone lay down next to him

It’s probably Beel

“Why didn’t you tell me you moved napping spots?”

His eyes open and he looks over to see you pouting at him

“I just sorta ended up here.”

“Well, I can’t nap without my cuddle buddy now can I?”

You’re teasing him and he should be annoyed

But he’s blushing

He spoons you to hide that fact, resting his forehead on your shoulder

But while your dreams were getting better, it didn’t mean you were ready to move on

So he just enjoys his intimate cuddling sessions with you and tries not to think too hard about the fact that he really likes how your body fits against his

[yuzukult]

from home 05 || jjk & reader

title: from home  pairing: jungkook x reader genre: richkid!jk, baker!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut in later chapters word count: 7.5k+ prompt: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? a/n: i was really excited to write this chapter and i still couldn’t get myself to make it longer... :( i suck...

please let me know if you’re interested in being tagged! but also let me know if you want to be removed! taglist: @scalubera @strugglingartistno16-2 @taestannie @teresaisla @drumsofheaven @vampgguk @christiandosworld @madjammil @jungkookieyoongs @bananagguknim @shuttheelleup​ @yobroitsjayden​

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Stating that Jungkook was 'on edge' is an understatement.

His palms and armpits were sweaty from the moment he arrived at your apartment to grab you before going to meet your parents, despite the amount of layers of deodorant he has on. He's never had a real relationship before, let alone met any girl's parents, and he can't help but feel something churning in his gut. "Good to go?" You ask, and he merely nods, suddenly bashful because he feels like he is definitely not ‘good to go.’ "Alright, let's head out."

The ride on the bus to your family home is only 30 minutes away, and truthfully, he has never ridden on one before. Walking to yours, Hoseok, and his home were less than 15 minutes, the thought of taking the bus being the absolute last thing on his mind. 

Jungkook isn't exactly sure how he feels about the bus. The constant starting and stopping makes him nauseous; then the unsteadiness of having to hold the bars and handles throughout the vehicle all around seems unsafe. When there's an available seat, you sense his fear, nudging him cautiously, gesturing him to take the seat. "Sit," and granting he wants to offer it to you instead, Jungkook complies to the demand because he swears he's going to vomit. 

After getting off the public transportation that he vows to never take again, you guide Jungkook through a narrow road, he notices the neighborhood here was more concentrated than the ones in Busan; tightly knitted with homes that stacked on top of one another, side to side, and back to back. People hung their clothes on lines that stretch from apartment to apartment, piles of boxes stored on balconies, and plants resting on the borders with owners sitting idle on their porches, fixated on their hobby of people watching. 

Jungkook is known to be popular to the public, from magazines, gossip TV channels, social media posts, and the types continue on to the point that you couldn’t name them all on your own ten fingers. People don't often recognize him on the streets anymore because he's unrecognizable in regular everyday clothes but today, he learns that you're the celebrity.

The people in their homes say their greetings, making comments here and there as you entertain them with a response back, laughter dispersing in the air. There's an old lady that lounges on the steps of her home, a smile stretched so wide that her eyes disappear, all with a blanket laying across her lap, knitting away. "I haven't seen you around, I assume your mother is having a dinner party for the kids? I see you brought a friend!"

"Something along those lines," you retort indirectly, nose snug into your scarf. "You're not staying indoors? It's cold out."

"My husband keeps the heater on the home too high, I sweat like I'm going through menopause like I’m forty all over again, so I much rather be outside here. Anyways, I don't want to hold you up too long, but please come by for Christmas, I do have a sweater I knitted for you as well!"

Then there's a grandfather, another grandmother, and a couple who seems just a bit older than the two of you, and the list just goes on. Despite the whisper exchanges at the supermarket mentioning that you're intimidating, mean, and scary, it's obvious that you aren't or else you wouldn't be swooning the hearts of these strangers.

But there will always be an exception. Especially when the two of you run into a girl who looks close in age, hair dyed blonde with her lips painted fusion red. He could tell how curvy she was with how tight the winter coat hugs her frame, swaying her hips toward your direction as she eyes you both suspicious. "I see our town loser brought a friend."

"Mm," You nod, attempting your best not to amuse her, or else you’d be pouncing on her back by now. "Jungkook, this is Somin. A classmate of mine when I was in grade school." He bows in politeness, zipping up his jacket further while stepping closer to you. "Nice to meet you, Somin."

"Oh, no!" She gasps, a hand on her chest in exaggeration, completely flabbergasted by something he said. "Don't call me that. I go by Bella, since... you know, I am an American now. Being an American deserves the right name."

"You got your citizenship there?"

"No, but, I spent enough time there to know." She grins, shrugging her shoulders. Spent enough time there—you want to call out on her bullshit yet again, knowing she barely spent a month there before dropping out of school and coming back, but it'd be humiliating to mention that with Jungkook standing by, a stranger that she had only met a mere few seconds ago. "You said Jungkook... Are you perhaps, Jeon Jungkook of the Jeon Corporation?"

You furrow your brows. "How do you even know that?"

"Well, daddy invests in their stocks, of course." Fluttering her lashes, she manages to make her presence known to Jungkook as she moves in his direction. "And I saw his pretty little face in a magazine and couldn't help but admire."

Possessively, your hand slips into his pocket, intertwining your fingers together, causing warmth to creep up his neck and into his cheeks. "Well, great to see you, Somin. Jungkook and I have dinner plans with my parents."

"Whoa, wait, dinner plans?" Somin nearly exclaims, shifting aside to block your way. "Also, it's Bella, get that straight, will you? And why is Jeon Jungkook with you anyway?"

"We're dating," Jungkook interjects, clearing his throat. The words are still unfamiliar on his tongue yet he loves to flaunt them anyway. "I'm her boyfriend." He adds, tightening the grip on your hand as if Somin could see it. Her mouth drops open, unable to grasp onto the fact that you were able to land on a hunk like him. If only she knew how much knowledge of basic life skills he didn't have... actually, she might still have the same perspective. "There's no way. This is fake, right? You realize how rude she is, don't you?"

"No, it’s not fake, and well, kind of," Jungkook admits, scrunching up his nose at the thought. "But it's endearing. Wouldn't be as exciting if she wasn't always trying to banter with me, so I don't think I'd have it any other way. People mistake it for her honesty. I love a woman who can be true to herself and genuine with her words."

Just then, your mother peeks out of the front door of your childhood home, waving her arm eagerly, calling out your name. "Well, that's our cue. Thanks, Somin, for congratulating us on our new relationship. Hope you find someone yourself soon!"

"What—" Somin barely finishes her sentence before you're zooming past her, tugging Jungkook along. 

"I didn't know you had so many enemies," Jungkook says jokingly, a playful smile upon his lips. You roll your eyes before squinting them at him, squeezing his hand hard as he winces. "Now you know how little I care for them, watch out because you might become one."

Upon entering the home, Jungkook observes too many things at once. Your mother is in the kitchen, frantically maneuvering through the junk that your family has hoarded over the years, searching for whatever it is she needs for the task at hand. Your father sits comfortably on the couch, feet on the coffee table with a controller in hand, dozing off with a combination of quiet and loud snores escaping from him. As a family home, Jungkook believes it's small considering that you had mentioned previously that you had two other siblings. To think that your parents are still living in the same home they grew up in is amazing to him, knowing that his parents moved at least five times within his youth while you only stayed in one home.

"Uh, hello," He greets your mom, bowing as she places her hands onto his shoulders, shaking him in excitement. She looks almost like a replica of you, except older and much brighter. "You must be Jungkook! It's so great to meet you, I'm so happy that my daughter found someone. She's known to be a bit... cold, so knowing that you were able to warm her up means that you're definitely special!"

"You make me sound like a bad guy." You hiss before your little sister walks in, in the midst of tying her hair up into a ponytail. She resembled your mother than you did, a delighted expression that matched exactly the one your mother had on. "That's because you are, and any guy who dates you seem to run away once they find out." She halts in her steps when she notices Jungkook's face. "Oh my god, you're that model."

"Model?" Your mother reiterates, glancing back at Jungkook and then your sister. "Yeah, yeah, that model in the new edition of Elle. He was in it—he's listed as one of the 10 most desirable men under 30. No flipping way, how'd you even get him to even date you?" She pauses before pointing at Jungkook with a suspicious look on her face as his eyes widened. "Unless... you need her for something. What's she offering? It can't be her body, she's not sexy... is it her brains? You heard about her—"

"Miyoung." Your mother says sternly, interrupting your sister. "Just because Jungkook is a model, it doesn't mean that your sister is incapable of being loved by a man like that."

"Actually—"

"Oh, hey. You must be the boyfriend." A taller male enters the room, his hair messy and lids hooded from waking up barely minutes before. He's still in his pajamas, a loose grey shirt and red checkered pants, but from the outline of his shirt, Jungkook could tell this guy was built. "I'm Daehyun, also known as their big brother. It's nice to meet you." Jungkook is in awe, hand extending to shake with Daehyun's. He knows he's straight, but even as a straight guy he knows a pretty man when he sees one. 

Jungkook was starting to pick up as to why your exterior was so tough. With a younger sister who didn't have a filter to an incredibly handsome older brother, of course as the middle child you had to protect yourself. "Uh, yeah. And that's my little sister, Miyoung, who basically just attacked me for all of my insecurities within a minute. Thanks, kiddo."

"No problem, Unnie." She grins cheekily, seated on the high stool. "Did mom tell you I was back home from college for the weekend? That's why you're here?"

"Something like that," you respond ominously, hanging up your jacket along with Jungkook’s. Despite her preceding interrogation, she’s chewing on her bottom lip skittishly. "More like she forced me to come. Well, she didn't say anything yet but I felt a guilt trip coming so I just decided that I would come instead."

"Typical," Daehyun scoffs, leaning against the wall beside Miyoung. He sneaks a glimpse into the kitchen where your mother secretly runs back into, resuming in her work. "She's been desperate to get us all back together since the two of you moved out. Remind me again why I'm the only one stuck here?"

"Because you can't find a job." Miyoung and you remind him in unison and he frowns. The interaction between the three of you is crystal clear evidence that you guys are related. "Well, geez, hurt a guy, why don't you? See what I have to deal with, Jungkook?"

With some time left until dinner, the four of you crowd at your small dining table, conversing away about updates in your lives. Miyoung is in University an hour away from home, residing there for an easier commute, and Daehyun stays at home with an ambition to find a job that fits his degree. Daehyun still dates from time to time but he admits that he can’t tend to his needs because well, his mother is a room away, and oddly enough, albeit Miyoung babbles on about other things, she’s silent about her love life. Neither Miyoung and Daehyun are able to hold a steady job, he observes, and he’s starting to pick up as to why you’re so adamant about keeping both of yours. Jungkook learns that everything seems to gravitate toward one of the two phrases from your siblings when it comes to finances and they are: “Mom can handle it,” or “I’m going to let Dad do it so I don’t have to.”

From what Jungkook can gather, your siblings seemed to have different outlooks on life compared to you—they still depended on their parents whilst you were already hunting for opportunities of your own before Miyoung’s age so you didn’t have to ask for money.

“Are you still upset with me about what happened a year ago?” Miyoung finally asks you, chewing on her nails nervously. It seems to be something she’s been holding back from you, Jungkook takes a note of the way her eyes were filled with worry. “Of course,” You reply nonchalantly, leaning back against your seat with your arms crossed. “How could I not be? But you’re my sister, so I can’t actually be mad at you.”

Miyoung begins to tear up— glassy gaze with her bottom lip quivering, in spite of the previous aggressiveness she presented when you first entered the house. Before Miyoung could get another word in, your mom comes in with a guilty expression on her face. She calls your name faintly, a pout upon her lips. “Can you and Jungkook go out and grab me a couple things before dinner?”

Jungkook can’t get the question that Miyoung brings up out of his mind. In the middle of an aisle at another one of his mother’s grocery stores, your lips are pursed in thought at which brand of soy sauce would your mom like more. 

“What was Miyoung going on about?” He eventually asks, but he holds his breath in case you decide to sock him for querying you about something so personal. Strangely enough, you open up. “Miyoung fell in love with my ex. He told me they didn’t do anything but he was in love with her, so we broke up. I thought I was going to settle with him but— guess not.”

Jungkook’s eyes expand like a deer in headlights. “Your little sister is dating your ex-boyfriend? And they were in love with each other during your relationship? I would’ve given her an uppercut if I were you— are you seriously still buying the banana milk she asked for?” He’s trailing behind you as you lead him toward the drinks; your face brightening from the lights from the fridges. How could someone who lost their boyfriend to their little sister seem so put together in the first place? Was this was Hoseok was talking about that your men streak was horrendous? 

“Because she’s my little sister. At the end of the day, I want her to be happy.” Throwing a pack into the cart, Jungkook continues to push it while following you, mind still foggy and angry about the situation. Here you were, with a guy who you’d fallen in love with to the point of considering settling down, then finding out he’s been in love with your sister... he feels like this is all a fever dream and isn’t an ounce real. “You’re fucking with me right?”

You look at him with perplexity. “What do you mean?”

“This sounds crazy. You’re serious? Miyoung stole a guy from you and you’re just going to be the bigger person here and not do anything about it?”

“What am I supposed to do? Throw a tantrum? Get in the way of their relationship that is obviously blossoming in a good way?”

Jungkook pauses. Was this what it was like in another family? Or at least yours?

In comparison, he perceives that within his family, outbursts were everything. Getting attention and being recognized for any wrongdoing was immensely important— he knew that if he stole a girl away from one of his brothers, he wouldn’t make it out of the house alive. His mother, including father, would never forget it. The chattering would be heard through the grapevine amongst the housemaids, drivers, and employees of the company. Even news media outlets would dabble a bit into the family drama, adding fuel to the fire. He could never react the way you did, at least, he hopes he would, but realistically speaking, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it.

Yet, with you, it seemed simple enough. Sure, your heart was broken, but how were you going to be with someone who didn’t love you back?

“If you love someone, you let them go.” You say calmly when Jungkook doesn’t respond back. “Keeping them around for your benefit doesn’t solve anything. If he wasn’t truly happy with me, I want him to be happier with someone else. And if that person so happens to be with Miyoung, what am I supposed to do?”

“But... you’re not happy.” Jungkook declares with no hesitation. He recalls the time where you felt bad for him for not having the best upbringing, and he’s starting to understand the emotion that ran through you. “I’m happier now,” You concede, placing the last ingredient your mom has on the list for you to purchase, turning your back at Jungkook. “Now that I met you.”

His heart flutters at the comments, and he’s desirous about bringing up the topic of the kiss again. Jungkook resists the urge to because he could tell from the way your silhouette begins to quicken its pace toward the checkout line that you really didn’t want to talk about it. 

When the two of you arrive back at your house, your father is jolted awake. Jungkook greets himself to the elder man who only grins brighter than the sun—something Jungkook is trying to grasp where your grumpiness comes from— and instantaneously directs him to the dinner table where your mom has a ton of side dishes laid out with six place settings for you all.

During the meal, there was nothing but exchanging stories, laughter, and elation that swarms the room. If this was what family meant, Jungkook wanted it. And the more he thinks about it, the more he wants it to be with you.

Nothing is working out for Jungkook.

This week, the pipe in his apartment burst. Something about— it’s winter and when it’s cold, the water freezes within the pipe and it expands the material, causing the pipe itself to burst, he doesn’t quite understand how the whole plumbing system works, but he knows that he can’t use the water in his apartment and has to go to yours and Hoseok’s for the week for a shower until the landlord can get it fixed.

Then, one of the deli guys called off because he apparently had the runs which meant that there was a shift change— Jungkook having to cover since whomever was working that day didn’t have the skills to do it.

Skills? Jungkook curses underneath his breath when he recites that word in his head repeatedly because he cuts his finger on the meat slicer as he winces, calling out your name. Coming to his side, you pull out the first aid kit and force him to sit down on one of the stools, tying elastic on a higher point of his finger to stop the blood from gushing out. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I just... I didn’t need to be put here, right? Someone else could’ve done this, I have no idea how to use a slicer.”

“I know,” You coo, wiping some of the antiseptic on the wound as he whimpers at the sudden sting. “The new shift manager panicked, she wasn’t sure what to do since the guy with the actual food preparation license is going to be here a bit late so she put you here. Not exactly the best plan.” After bandaging him up, you wash your hands underneath the faucet as Jungkook slouches in the seat.

Nothing really was going his way.

It doesn’t even stop there. Unexpectedly, his mother calls for dinner but you’re on shift, therefore you wouldn’t be able to attend. He’s tempted to down a glass of whiskey on ice, his signature drink, but when he opens the cabinet in his kitchen, he falters at the image of your face. Would you be disappointed if you saw what he was doing? And Hoseok? What would he say?

Retracting his hand back, he immediately slams the door shut at the thought of the consequences.

Dinner is the usual at the Jeon residence. Father sits at the end of the dining table, the typical beige cloth napkin spread across on his lap while in his usual work attire, glasses rested on the tip of his nose as he’s ready to dive in with a fork and spoon in hand. Mother is settled beside him, pretty as ever and calm in comparison to the hell that’s going to let loose in a couple minutes. The unknown? Who is going to blow up this time and who will they be comparing themselves to?

The answer? Jongseok and Jungkook.

Jongseok is upset to the point that he articulates every word with spit nearly projecting from his mouth to the opposite side of the room. The vein on his temple is stressed to the point that all Jungkook can think about is when it’s going to pop. “Why are you guys always babying Jungkook? You realize the kid is fucking working at a grocery store right? And not just any grocery store, either, but it’s mother’s chain.”

“Okay?” Father retorts, forehead wrinkling in puzzlement. “Isn’t he trying to prove himself worthwhile? Didn’t he find that job himself, despite it being your mother’s chain? He’s paying for his mistakes, learning basic life skills along the way, and even landed himself a serious girlfriend who can hold his hand through these tough times, since, after all, you’re the one who suggested we cut him off. If I’m being honest, I think we should give him access to our funds again.”

A scoff of incredulity comes from Jongseok. He’s a ticking time bomb in this moment; jaw twitching in frustration with the tips of his ears heated red. Even though he’s the target yet again, Jungkook is sober now, mind clear of the fog and the ability to defend himself for once. “I don’t get it. Why are you even mad at me? I’m trying here, right? You’re the one who wanted me to get cut off so desperately�� and congrats, by the way, because I did. I had to find a job myself, one I’m not a fan of, and I’m barely making it by. I lost water in my apartment this week, cut my hand on one of those deli slicers, sprained my ankle on my way to work— and that’s only a portion of my bad week. Yet here I am, sitting at the dinner table with people who claim that they love me when you’re here flipping shit at father. What do you want from me?”

“For your name to be completely off the will.” Jongseok finally says what he has been actually feeling unperturbedly, not an ounce of affection in his tone with a gaze that could pierce through Jungkook. “You have nothing to offer to this family. Why we keep you around— I don’t know. Why should you have any portion of our estate and company assets when all you’re doing right now is working at the supermarket. Tell me, Jungkook, why do you deserve to be part of any of this?”

Jungkook hates how childish he’s being, but he feels like he has the right to. The flickering colorful lights and music booming through the speakers of the club are tuning out the words his brother exclaims at his parents, and the amount of alcohol passing through his lips are numbing the pain that tears through his chest. Your face pops up in his head; your laugh, your smile, and the comfort in the underlying messages through your tough love— he wishes that all of that was enough to heal the sting in his heart and fill the hollowness that his family left.

He doesn’t remember any of these people sitting at this table with him, even though they’re hollering in excitement that “Jungkook is back again!” The girl placing a hand on his chest with his arm around her shoulder isn’t you, but he knows that if it was, you’d be so displeased at how wasted he is. Honestly, this feels wrong. Nothing sits right in his stomach and when another pretty gal with her dress hiked up to the point he could see her thong from where he’s on the couch, he’s not even attracted to her. All he could think about was you, and that scowl on your face when he tells you about this night. He could hide it from you but he’s not going to lie to himself— if he wanted to improve for the better, it meant being straightforward and authentic. Jungkook came here to let loose because the events that occurred at the estate tonight was something he wants to forget.

Turning to the girl beside him, his eyes are hooded and vision is blurry when he asks, “What’s your name again?”

When her rosy plump lips open, she says her name but the voice that comes out of it is deep and oddly familiar. “Hyeri?” Why does she say it like a question, and why is her voice so low? Just then, a hand clenches the fabric of his shirt, pulling him up and he meets the proprietor of the response. Hoseok.

Hoseok drags Jungkook’s weak and frail frame out into the alleyway behind the club, fuming to the point that smoke could’ve been whistling out of his ears. “What the fuck are you doing here? And with Hyeri, of all people! I thought I told you to stop fucking around, dude! I-I thought you knew how much she means to me. Out of the people I’ve partied with— you were my actual friend.” He clenches his jaw before Jungkook could even answer, a fist tightening in his hand. “You’re such a fuck up, Jungkook. So much for a friend.” 

Then everything blacks out.

His entire body hurts. His head is pounding, he can barely open one of his eyes, and his legs are so sore he can hardly shift on the bed— on a bed? He doesn’t have a bed. He has a futon but not a bed. Startled, he attempts to sit up against the bed frame, the other eye opening to skim through the room. 

He’s never been in your bedroom before, but the pictures of you graduating college hanging on the corkboard above your desk, concert tickets, Polaroids, and holiday cards thumbtacked beside them is all the evidence he needs to know it’s yours. Jungkook wants a closer look at them, he can scarcely make out the cute little smile on your face with your family in attendance in the picture, but when he puts weight onto his arms, he groans. Seconds later, you’re bursting through the door, out of breath and worry in your eyes. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Voice hoarse, he realizes how dry his throat is and you lean over to the bedside table to hand him the glass of water you had there originally. “Don’t move, idiot. You’re actually really torn up if you didn’t feel it with all that alcohol in your system.” Inviting yourself onto the foot of the bed, Jungkook frowns after he finishes the entire glass, much more dehydrated than he initially thought. “Trust me, it’s gone now. I feel every ounce of pain. What happened? I blacked out.”

“No shit,” you retort harshly, rolling your eyes at him. “You were drunk as hell, but you didn’t black out from that. Hoseok saw you getting all cozy with Hyeri and knocked the shit out of you. What happened, Jungkook? Why were you there in the first place? Did something happen?”

Reading the expression on your face, he fears for the worse but he doesn’t see any hint of dissatisfaction anywhere. There’s no anger, no resentment, no frustration— none of that. Just curiosity smeared across, genuinely worried about his well-being. “Are you upset that you found out I was there?”

“I was mad that Hoseok called me to come grab you, at first, so kind of, yeah. But if you’re trying to figure out if I’m disappointed in you, then no, I’m not. Old habits are hard to kill, so I understand that you’re trying to cope with something. I just want to know why you were there in the first place and why were you getting all lovey dovey with Hyeri—“

“I wasn’t getting lovey-dovey with Hyeri,” Jungkook exasperates, head falling back against the headboard, closing his eyes shut, interrupting before you lead the conversation into a lecture. “She was just some girl that sat down and claimed a spot next to me. I didn’t even know she was Hoseok’s girl.” There’s a pregnant pause in his explanation, and you don’t break off his train of thought. “I... I went because Jongseok called me useless tonight, yet again. It didn’t bother me as much as it did before, you know, before I met you, and it’s probably because I wasn’t intoxicated or the fact that I’m actually trying now and he still thinks I’m useless. He wants me out of the will.”

“He’s jealous that he’s the problematic child now, not you.” Making your way up the bed, you’re seated on top of the covers, settled adjacent to Jungkook. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re way more useful than you had been initially. I usually do the dishes at my parents’ house, mostly because I’m the middle child, but you did it for me instead. I consider that a huge accomplishment from who you were before.”

As much as he hates to admit how warm and fuzzy he feels inside just from that small achievement, it’s a resemblance of the time when he was younger and won an award for being most creative in his kindergarten class. How are you able to lift up his mood so easily by just saying a few words?

“I… is Hoseok really pissed?”

“A bit,” you reply sincerely and apologetically, even though none of this had been your fault. “He’s been in love with her even before I met him. She was all he could talk about, and I guess she finally gave him a shot, only to drop him a month later. I don’t know much about her, but I know she’s a gold digger from the stories he shared.”

Jungkooks face drops when his gaze meets yours. “Have you ever told him that?” You laugh—the melody that practically heals his wounds on the spot. “No, are you crazy? He’s blinded by love, Jeon, and any interference with that, I’m done for, probably cut out entirely from his life. Have you never been in love before?” 

He wants to say that he hasn’t, not until he met you, but you continue without expecting a response from him anyway. “Well, that’s just how he is. You could tell him a billion times that this girl isn’t for him but he’s never going to care about what I say until something actually happens.”

“I really care about Hoseok, though, and I want the best for him.” His doe-brown eyes are glossy, full of cherish for his friend. “And he cares for you too, Jeon. Just give him some time.” Quickly, Jungkook twists away, gaze avoiding yours as he clears his throat a couple times.

“Are you... okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” He says, choking up on his own words. “Hurts a little. Hoseok is strong.”

You furrow your brows. “Hey, look at me.” He doesn’t react. “Jeon,”

“Can... you give me some space?” 

Pulling your lips into a straight line, you contemplate whether or not to listen to his words or go against him. He’s been living in a home full of people yet still feeling alone, with no one to listen to his perspective on things. Maybe it’s time you change that.

Abruptly, you swing your leg over his thighs, hands cupping his cheeks just like you did that fateful night. He swore his heart stopped beating. “What are you—” There’s tears brimming in his eyes, you realize, with some escaping, trailing down his cheek. He sniffles. “You’re crying?” You’re stating the obvious, yet somehow it comes out as a question. “Don’t cry. Why are you crying?”

“I’ve never had a friend love me before, a friend who actually liked me for me and only wanted to spend time with me because of who I was, not who my family was. Did I really fuck up with Hoseok?” You frown, thumb rubbing against his cheek to wipe away his tears. Truthfully, you never really knew how to react when someone fell apart like this, but with Jungkook, it felt natural, the comforting. It might’ve been the sunlight peering through the windows of your room that made everything toasty, thawing out your cold heart, or it was just Jungkook. “Maybe. But I doubt he wouldn’t give you a chance to explain yourself though. I mean, yeah, you’re bruised all over because he really beat you up... but, I’m sure this evens things out. Plus, I’m your friend and I love you too.”

He sighs, shoulders plunging with his hands creeping up to your waist unconsciously, tenderly steering you to sit on his thighs. Swallowing at the feeling of his body flattened against yours, you’re attempting to shake your head from the dirty thoughts. Jungkook feels at ease, detecting the words come from your mouth, yet he wants more. He craves for more, especially since that night in Busan and he isn’t sure he can hold himself back anymore.

“I... What happened that night in Busan?” Lifting your weight off him, he only stops you by putting down more pressure to stop your escape. Despite being in an awful lot of pain, he still manages to overpower you in strength. “Please don’t avoid this. If Jongseok didn’t come to our door that night, it would’ve led to something more. I want to know, please, what does it mean?” Cheeks burning, you stare at the wooden headboard behind him, except Jungkook knows your next steps before you do because his finger is already on your chin, guiding your view back onto him. He doesn’t need to say anything because the look he gives you says it all, tell me.

“Okay, okay,” You cringe, the idea of talking about this makes your stomach feel queasy and want to recoil in dread. “White flag. I’ll talk.”

“Enough of this white flag nonsense, just tell me.”

Belatedly gathering enough courage, you spill. Although your heart feels like it’s jumping through hoops from suspense, you realize that you can’t hold yourself back any longer anyway. “I’m... attracted to you, alright? I mean, I’m not sure how I feel about you 100% emotionally, because I still feel like we’re on different pages here, but I feel like I kind of like you? If this goes any further, I wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to it.”

That’s... it? Admittedly so, Jungkook was hoping for more of a confession, something along the lines of, ‘I really like you, Jungkook’ but he’d have to settle for this. This was definitely a step closer to where he wants to be. “So... you’d date me, that is. There’s still an opening somewhere.”

“I-I mean, I guess so... why?”

“Because well, I can’t stop thinking about that night, and I know that for sure that I like you.” He discloses. “And if there’s even a bit of an opening, I want a shot at it.”

You scoff. “With me? You want an actual shot with me? After spending time with my family, you want to still try to swoon me?” There’s a smile tugging on Jungkook’s lips; there’s a blackish-bluish bruise underneath his eye, the side of his lips red and blotchy and the entirety of his body is either swollen or bruised, and yet, he still endures the pain to be beaming brighter than the stars. “Of course, you met my family, right? Yours is nothing complicated in comparison... well, maybe your sister. But for once, I feel like I belong here, with you, I feel like I’m home. So, will you give me a chance to win you over?”

“Don’t you think you’re rushing this whole thing? This... you thinking you like me kind of thing.”

“Are you going to keep wasting your time?” He blurts, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “You wasted how long with some guy only for him to ditch you for your sister. What about your happiness, and what you want? None of this is fair to you. What if I could possibly give that to you, that happiness? Would you actually give me a chance?”

Sincerely, you didn’t know what the relationship with Jungkook held and what it would mean in the future. But what he asserts is right with the things he repeats in Busan about being selfish for once replays in your head again, and you finally decide to take a shot at it.

Was it the high of saying ‘yes, okay’ to Jungkook or the painkillers he took earlier because when your lips meet with his, he feels like he’s floating in mid-air. Your tongue is wet and soft when it fights with his, and when his hands on your waist pull you in closer, the bulge in his pants isn’t discreet, raging for attention, twitching against your thigh while your fingers knots through his hair tightens in response to your bottom lip suddenly tucked in between his teeth. The room feels steaming hot, especially when your hips start to move against his, emitting a groan from him as hand trails down to your ass to give it a harsh squeeze in consequence. His jeans from last night are still on and they’re straining in his crotch uncomfortably.

This is escalating so fast—just as quickly as his heart is beating in his chest, almost popping out of his chest cavity. Your natural scent is intoxicating, clouding up his mind to the point that he doesn’t think he needs the alcohol to forget the pain his family has caused him anymore, because you’re mending the pieces of him together. Your hands trail down to his neck, tugging him closer before they wander down to his biceps, giving him a gentle squeeze that releases a wince from him. 

Just as abrupt as the kiss, you pull away with a concerned and panic expression, with your mouth open in aghast. “Oh my god— I forgot you were still injured—” As you’re trying to move back, you stumble on his legs and collapse onto the floor.

“What— hey, are you okay?” He says, breathless as he leans over to check on you sprawled on the floor. Swiftly hopping back on your feet, he observes you clearly with your hair disheveled, cheeks tinted pink, and swollen lips. There’s a look of achievement on his face from the sight of a disoriented you. “Uh, um, yeah. I-I’m good,” Flustered, you push a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m... I’m going to get dinner ready for the both of us, uh, I’m going to leave you to it,” you’re awkwardly gesturing his crotch before rushing out the room and slamming the door shut.

He can only laugh at your reaction. At least his week wasn’t that bad after that kiss, right?

Jungkook stirs awake from the sound of chatter in the living room, voices familiar that he can associate them as yours and Hoseok’s. Unexpectedly, he sounds melancholic, the muffled sounds from your walls, almost to the point of whimpering mixed with your soft assuring words. He figures he should get a closer perspective of this, maybe enough where he can make out what the two of you are conversing about.

He’s not far off from shrieking when he angles his leg too far, but he bites his bottom lip in prevention of any sound, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the torment. Careful, he reiterates like a mantra in his head, chanting it until it’s engraved in his brain. When he reaches the door, he opens it slowly and just barely, to peek out and see the scene unfold before him.

“She told me that they didn’t do anything,” Hoseok exclaims, face in his hands as his elbows are resting on his knees. “That she chose to be there, and Jungkook was just lounging on the couch. That if anything, she wanted him to fuck her. Isn’t that ridiculous? How could she say that?”

You’re seated on the armrest of the loveseat, hand rubbing against Hoseok’s back soothingly. “I know, Hobi, I know. You might’ve been the right one for her, but at the end, she wasn’t the right one for you.”

“I could’ve changed,” He emphasizes, spinning his gaze to meet yours. His eyes are crimson and swollen from his tears, restlessness fills in those orbs. “I love her so much.”

“Well, and you love Jungkook. He’s in the other room, beat up and crying because he thought he lost you. He didn’t do anything wrong and you tore him to shreds! Earlier when we were making—“ You pause, clearing your throat when you realize where you were leading the conversation, Hoseok raising a brow in confusion at the action. “Earlier, I mean, I went to check on him and he was whining in pain. You really hurt him, Hoseok, and not just physically either. He’s both hurt emotionally and physically.”

He frowns. “I mean, I guess... I guess it wasn’t his fault.”

“There’s no guessing, idiot. It wasn’t. He was honestly too wasted to even realize that she was sitting beside him. Poor kid reeked of alcohol that I almost made him sleep on the porch. But he would’ve gotten robbed so... I let him stay in my room and I slept on the couch.” Jungkook glowers at the thought of you struggling to find comfort on the small sofa, wishing you would’ve chosen to sleep by him instead.

“Can I... talk to him?” Hoseok finally asks, looking down at his hands in embarrassment. His knuckles were red, contused from the one-sided fight he had with Jungkook the night before. “I fucked up, and I’m sure he thinks that he really fucked up.”

You hum for a moment before an idea pops into mind. “How about... you go out and get takeout? I’ll check on him, prep him for your appearance, and then you guys can hash it out?”

You don’t take no for an answer, pushing Hoseok out the door shortly, and a soft smile tugs on the edges of Jungkook’s lips before he lightly shuts the door and tip toes back into bed, pretending to be deep in slumber.

When you come into the room afterwards with a wet rag in hand and a bucket of warm water, his heart swells. Patting the towel against his wounds while seated at the edge of the bed, he hastily has a hand wrapped around your wrist, shocking you in the midst of your activity. “Oh— you’re awake?” He gingerly kisses the palm of your hand, heat clogging your face . “Yeah. And, thank you. For everything. I owe you a lot.”

“I—uh, maybe you’ll reciprocate this for me as well, one day?” You respond dubiously. “But... you also might not know how to do it so—“

“Are you still trying to make jabs at me after I made such a sweet comment?”

“Well, I’m just being honest, do you even know how to take care of another person?” You shoot back. “You couldn’t even get yourself back home, I had to be called and drag you back here myself, and my god, you’re heavy—“ He hauls your arm closer, dragging you along with it until your nose is inches away from his. “Can I kiss you again? I miss the way your lips feel with mine.” Even when he says the words in a volume that’s barely a whisper, his breath fans against your skin harshly, causing goosebumps to crawl up your spine.

The door pounds shut and before you can tear away from Jungkook’s hold, Hoseok is already standing in the threshold of the bedroom, mouth wide open in shock before it immediately fades into a mischievous grin. “What did I tell you, Kook? Which one was it first? You or her?”

[nugnthopkns]

dance me to the end of love (iii)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential percy jackson & the olympians spoilers, alcohol consumption, motion sickness and vomiting

series masterpost: here

a/n: this took me a hot sec to finish but here it is! there's a dumb little latin joke in here but that's just because i'm a nerd lmao

Ryan is certainly giving Bette a run for her money in the best friend department.

Magdalene has no intentions of usurping her best friend, but Ryan is quickly becoming the person she talks to most frequently. It started on social media but quickly moved to regular texting, both of them being twenty-five and capable of communicating through more normal channels. The text thread between them isn’t indicative of their newfound friendship – it looks like they’ve been friends since high school. At any given moment at least three conversations are going on, and Magdalene regularly sends him random updates throughout the day. Ryan likes hearing about any interesting artefacts she encounters at work so she keeps mental notes to tell him during their frequent phone calls.

Despite talking to him almost constantly, Magdalene hasn’t seen Ryan since they grabbed lunch at Barn Owl nearly two weeks ago. The lake house trip is a couple days out, and she’s been busy trying to get all her ducks in a row. At work, the current project is coming to an end and Magdalene will be sad to see it go – it’s the first thing she’s been on from start to finish. She’s got a neighbour coming to spend time with Caligula while she’s away so he doesn’t get too upset. Though the days are passing by in a haze as she tries to get ready, Magdalene is excited to get away for a little bit. It’s been a few years since she’s left Denver for more than a night, electing to skip on Bette’s previous vacation invites, and it will be nice to slow down. Life is moving at a comfortable pace, but having some time to pause and breathe will keep Magdalene from feeling too overwhelmed.

Halfway through her last day of work, Magdalene gets a text from Ryan that makes her nearly double over in laughter.

Julius Caesar walks into a bar and says to the bartender “I’ll have a Martinus please!” The bartender replies “Don’t you mean a Martini?” Caesar shakes his head and says “If I wanted double I would have said so.”

It takes her a minute to catch her breath, which piques June’s curiosity. Magdalene recites the joke and her boss rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but does let out a chuckle.

June didn’t think it was funny, but I did. Thank you for making today infinitely better. You riding with us tomorrow?

Magdalene tucks her phone back into her purse, determined to remain focused for the last few hours, and misses the reply telling her that Ryan won’t be riding with Bette, Tyson, and herself, but rather with Cale and his girlfriend to leave enough space for all the gear getting brought. She doesn’t see it until she’s walking across the parking lot to her car and it fills her with a sadness that doesn’t make much sense. He’ll be there for the entire week, so does it matter that he’ll be in a different car for the four hour drive? Magdalene has a sinking suspicion about why she’s upset, but she pushes it down. There’s no space in your life for a relationship right now, she reminds herself as she unlocks the door to her apartment. Caligula is waiting patiently at the door and distracts her thoughts from the handsome man with the kind smile that’s been all she can think about recently.

The cat is incredibly perceptive and knows the regular routine is going to change, making him particularly clingy. He follows Magdalene as she finishes packing, meowing and begging for pets, and she considers bailing on her friends. Caligula has mild separation anxiety and Magdalene doesn’t go away often partly because of it – though another reason is her homebody nature. Only the thought of seeing Ryan keeps her from hanging all her clothes back up.

“Don’t worry little boots,” she coos, “I won’t be gone long. Maria is going to check on you while I’m away, and I’ll be home before you know it.”

It seems ridiculous to speak to her pet as though it’s a child, but Magdalene knows Caligula comprehends what she’s saying. He’s always been smart, and the two of them share a bond that’s hard to explain. She picks him up, puts him in the pocket of her hoodie, and they spend the rest of the night packing and dancing along to the radio.

☼☼☼☼

Bette forgot to mention that the road to the lake house is winding, and Magdalene spends the entire ride with her head between her knees. Motion sickness is something that unfortunately plagues her during journeys longer than a couple of hours and she wishes she would have thought to take anti-nausea medication before leaving the house. Tyson tries to crack a joke about her being a bad passenger, but his girlfriend swats his arm and passes her friend a water bottle with a concerned smile. The two of them speak in hushed tones, almost certainly for Magdalene's benefit, and she does her best not to throw up on the floor of Tyson’s car. After what feels like two decades the vehicle rolls to a stop at the end of a gravel path.

“Mags, we’re here,” Bette says softly, praying that her friend will begin to feel better after stretching her legs and feeling firm ground underneath her.

There’s an unintelligible groan from Magdalene, but she rises out of the car and stumbles into the house. Tyson and Bette insist that she rest and they’ll handle the unloading of the car, so she crawls into one of the empty beds and falls asleep as soon as her head touches the pillow. It’s a dreamless slumber, one fuelled by the pure exhaustion of battling illness while travelling, and when she awakes hours later Magdalene feels oddly refreshed. Her energy level is still relatively low, but she knows that intaking food won’t be an issue.

Padding down the stairs as quiet as possible in an effort to not break the peaceful atmosphere, Magdalene is met with a quiet house. She’s utterly confused – she didn’t sleep long enough to miss dinner and judging by the way the sun is low in the final car full of people should be arriving any minute. For a moment she thinks the group left her in the mountains alone, but then the sound of a trunk closing breaks the silence.

“I fucking told you bro, you should have let me drive!”

Ryan’s voice echoes in Magdalene's ears and her heart skips a beat. She didn’t realize how much she had missed him or how excited she is to see him. Despite everything inside of her saying she should run into his arms Magdalene stays put in the kitchen, running the tap to get a glass of water. She focuses on the mountain on the other end of the lake, framing the setting sun and creating a postcard ready photo. The camera app on her phone is open and angles for the best shot are found. Ryan tumbles through the door a second later, arms filled to the brim with luggage and bags of food.

He drops them the second he sees her, running up behind her and lifting her off the ground. “Mags! Cale almost hit a deer!”

The shock of Ryan’s onslaught of affection catches her off guard, and Magdalene shakes her hand, forcing the picture to turn out as nothing but a blur.

“No hello?” She laughs as Ryan lets her feet touch down on the wooden floor. “It’s the least you could give me after destroying my chance of getting a National Geographic worthy picture.”

He smiles but doesn’t let his hands drop from their perch on her waist. “There’s six more days for you to nail it. I’ll even help if you ask.”

Other bodies enter the house then, causing Magdalene to slink away from Ryan’s touch even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. They’re simply friends, and she doesn’t want Bette to get any ideas. The last thing Magdalene needs on her plate right now is her best friend forcing her to paint a custom denim jacket with Ryan’s number across the back. “I can’t believe you almost hit a deer,” Tyson sighs in disbelief.

“It wasn’t even close,” Cale grumbles, picking up his bags and stomping off to find a place to claim as his own the next couple of days. A petite redhead follows after him, giving a small wave to those in the kitchen before scurrying away. When she asks, Ryan tells Magdalene the girl’s name is Livy, and that she’s Cale’s girlfriend from back home.

Everyone shrugs at his moodiness and disperses. Bette and Tyson stay in the kitchen to make dinner, Ryan goes to claim the final room, and Magdalene slips outside to sit on the patio furniture. The sun has dropped drastically in the past five minutes, causing the air to chill. She wraps her arms tighter around her legs and watches a pair of birds fly over the lake below. It’s so peaceful, a complete one-eighty from the insanity of her life in Denver, and Magdalene thinks about never leaving. She knows it’s impossible, but as she closes her eyes and listens to the quiet laughter of her friends inside the idea seems like a pretty good one.

The sliding door creaks open and Ryan goes through as quietly as possible. He tosses a sweater in Magdalene’s direction as he walks over, plopping down beside her on the small couch.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, slipping the fabric over her head. “I didn’t realize how cold it had actually gotten.”

He smiles in response and shuffles his body a little closer to create extra warmth. Magdalene leans into him, trying to appear casual even though her heart is beating rapidly, and pulls on the strings of the sweater Ryan gave her.

“So, are you excited for this week?”

It’s more awkward than she thought it would be – seeing him in person again, especially since they’ve been texting almost constantly, and the words kind of stick in her throat.

“Honestly? Now that I’m here I am, but I was a little leery about taking time off,” Ryan explains, detailing how he’s trying to improve some aspects of his two-way play and is worried his progress will plateau. Magdalene understands and shares her own worries about taking time off work even if her boss encouraged it.

After catching up quickly and running out of things to say, the pair of them sit in silence watching the sun set until they’re called inside for dinner. It’s nice to just exist, especially with Ryan beside her, and Magdalene feels her heart sink as they separate and he goes to make sure Cale isn’t actually mad at him.

☼☼☼☼

It storms the first two days at the lake house, forcing everyone to stay inside. Tyson complains about how he has less time to drive the boat that came with the property but the others take it in stride. Magdalene spends most of the time reading for pleasure, something she hasn’t been able to do much of the past few years, and Ryan joins her for large chunks of the time. It turns out that he too is an avid reader, and the two of them discuss their favourite novels and series while the other four play board games.

“So you’re telling me you wish Annabeth would have joined the Hunters of Artemis?” Magdalene shrieks in shock, almost knocking the wine out of her glass as her arms flail in disbelief.

“I think it made sense for her to,” Ryan defends.

“But she’s perfect for Percy!”

He sticks to his guns. “I’m not saying she isn’t. I just think that at the time the offer was presented it was the most logical choice. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about what would have happened if she did.”

She ducks her head in defeat because she had imagined it, on many occasions in fact. When reading the series for the first time in middle school Magdalene had desperately hoped Annabeth would choose the Hunters over Camp Half-Blood, gaining the family she herself never was privy to. They return to reading quietly beside each other, occasionally knocking elbows when trying to turn a page.

Tuesday brings sunshine and clear skies, which means Tyson is trying to corral everyone into the boat as soon as they’re up. Magdalene tries her hardest to get out of it but her pleas fall on deaf ears.

“You’ll be fine, stop being such a wimp,” Cale jests. She knows that he’s just anxious to soak up some sun, but the words hurt more than Magdalene would have liked them to.

Livy swats her boyfriend across the chest. “Enough! If she doesn’t want to come she doesn’t have to.” The smaller girl sends her a kind smile before speaking low enough that only Magdalene can hear her. “I know your book is just getting good and you look like the kind of person who needs alone time to function properly. Enjoy yourself.”

Seemingly excused from the day’s festivities, Magdalene gives a sheepish wave before climbing the small hill to the house. Ryan meets her halfway and is appalled when he hears of her plans.

“Nope, I don’t think so. You’re not leaving me alone to be the ultimate third wheel!”

He has her off the ground and over his shoulder in a millisecond, jogging lightly to catch up with the rest of the group. Magdalene’s laugh bounces off the tree lined shore, and she’s too busy having fun shrieking at Ryan to complain about being forced to spend all day on a boat away from her book. Tyson peels away from the dock before she can regret tagging along, and Bette tugs Magdalene to the bow.

The two girls chat quietly, giggling and sipping on the mimosas they made earlier. Magdalene isn’t a huge day drinker, but Bette makes sure there’s more orange juice than champagne to make her feel less guilty. Livy joins them a while later after becoming sick of the boys and their shenanigans. It’s nice to hang out with a group of girls that aren’t competing for the top spot in a class, Magdalene decides, and she revels in the stories they tell of going to hockey games and babysitting the children of players so they can catch a break. Twinges of jealousy creep up at the wonderful family dynamic the Avalanche seem to have, but she stomachs them. She reminds herself that other people deserve to have support systems and excuses herself from the conversation.

Magdalene slides into the free space beside Ryan, and without thinking he wraps an arm around her shoulder. It feels so natural that she wonders if it’s how he greets all his friends, but the looks of shock and Tyson and Cale’s faces say otherwise. After a bit more cruising they find a small bay to anchor in for a while. The sun had climbed to the middle of the sky and is unbearably warm, leaving everyone no choice but to jump into the water to cool off. Magdalene does her best to float peacefully a short distance away from the group but is somehow brought into a splashing war because the teams aren’t equal.

Eventually the constant barrage of water chills her to the bone, and Magdalene swims back to the boat. She watches from the sidelines and cheers for her old teammates with a towel wrapped snugly around her. Ryan breaks from the group too, insisting it isn’t fair to have teams on unequal strength. Once dry, he picks up the baseball cap he brought and places it delicately on Magdalene’s head.

“Your cheeks are starting to go pink and I don’t want you to burn,” he explains, passing her a bottle of sunscreen as well.

“Thanks Ry.”

They muse about the idyllic beauty of the scene in front of them until everyone rejoins them. For reasons unbeknownst to Magdalene Tyson is in a rush to get back to the house, which leads to him driving very fast and a little erratically. The contents of her stomach threaten to come up but she holds them down, tightening her grip on the leather seat. A wave crests and Tyson hits it head on, causing the boat to lurch and rock. Magdalene knows it’s going to happen before it does and leans over the side to save a mess from being created. All the alcohol and food she’d consumed throughout the day is no longer in her body, and heat creeps up the back of her neck. She’s embarrassed – what twenty-five year old gets sea sick?

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.

She tries to smile but it comes out more like a grimace. “I just, uh, get motion sick really easily.” Bette passes her a water bottle and she drinks it quickly, eager to get the taste out of her mouth.

Ryan lets Magdalene curl into his side the rest of the way home, and rubs comforting circles on her back to ease her discomfort, doing his best to ignore the stares from his friends.

☼☼☼☼

The trip comes to an end much more quickly than Magdalene would have liked. Tomorrow morning they’ll pack up and drive back to Denver, returning to their normal hectic schedules. Cale and Livy are heading back to Alberta for the rest of the summer, and Bette and Tyson will be going for a visit as well. She’s heard Ryan mention going home in passing, which most likely means he doesn’t have plans to stay. Magdalene will be all alone in Colorado, but she’s used to it. The only issue being friends with professional athletes is that they leave. She’s been dealing with the loss since Bette and Tyson got together years ago – having them around as her support system most of the year and then them disappearing for a couple of months.

Not wanting to think about how soon she’ll be alone, Magdalene heads outside and starts a campfire. It’s a skill she picked up as a kid and it has come in handy over the years. The newspaper crinkles under the flame from the lighter, and soon the kindling is burning well. Everyone else is still inside, cleaning up from dinner and preparing for one last night in paradise. She places a few blocks of wood in the fire pit once there’s a good enough flame and curls up in a chair, lost in thought about what comes next. There’s rustling from somewhere behind her but she pays it no mind, assuming it’s a small animal wandering through the forest.

“Can I offer you some company?” a voice says softly, waiting for a response. The movement wasn’t a raccoon but in fact Ryan, and Magdalene gestures at the chair beside her with a smile.

He passes her a glass of white wine, which she takes with an appreciative hum. They sit in silence for a moment, admiring the beauty of the setting sun. “I’m going to miss it,” Ryan sighs, leaning back in his chair and extending his legs.

She nods. “Me too. It’s so quiet up here. Denver gets too loud sometimes.”

“Tell me about it. I’m not just going to miss the lake though, it’s also lounging around and not having to worry about hockey. And you.”

The ending comes out rushed, and Magdalene isn’t sure she heard him correctly. “Me?”

Ryan looks at her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes you. Why wouldn’t I? You’re funny, smart, and catch all of my West Wing references. There’s no one who gets me quite like you, even back home.”

It takes her by surprise. They’ve only known each other for a few months, and only really started associating after the party at Bette and Tyson’s. There has to be somebody who knows him better than she does. When she voices her opinion Ryan just scoffs, saying that people treat him as one-dimensional because he plays hockey. Somehow the conversation shifts to Magdalene, and when she lets it slip she gets lonely in Denver without her friends, Ryan asks the question she’s been dreading.

“So why don’t you get a boyfriend?”

“I can’t just get a boyfriend because my friends are gone,” she laughs, but there’s an edge to it, like she’s unsure of where this will go and how to question the follow ups.

He rolls his eyes. “I know that, but like, I don’t know, wouldn’t it be nice to not be alone all the time?”

It would be, Magdalene thinks, but she just shrugs. “I guess I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I just finished school and for the first time in a long time I can focus on myself.” She leaves out the part where Ryan gives her butterflies and that if he asked she’d probably jump headfirst into a relationship with him.

The topic is dropped then because Tyson comes out of the house screaming about the night is going to be wild because it’s their last together for a while. Magdalene and Ryan share a look of mild panic, but both of them are itching to have fun with friends so they raise their glasses in salute before finishing them in one gulp.

Magdalene drinks more than she should and wakes in the morning with a killer hangover. It seems that no one else is better off though, all stumbling around looking for Advil and coffee like it’s going to be their last meal. Packing up takes a bit longer than expected, but they’re still out before the official checkout time. There’s a bit of discourse on who Magdalene will travel home with. Bette wants her in Tyson’s car, no doubt to talk about how close her and Ryan seem to be, but Cale offers to bring her with them. His reasoning is that Ryan is driving him and Livy directly to the airport, and having the front seat could be good for her motion sickness. It’s ultimately Magdalene’s choice and the idea of having more time with Ryan before he leaves is too enticing to pass up. She bids her other friends goodbye, promising to come over for dinner before they fly out, and climbs into the cab of Cale’s truck.

Once again she’s a less than ideal passenger, but this time it’s because she sleeps the entire way back to Denver. The drinking took it out of her and coupled with the queasiness in her stomach from the winding roads sleep is the only thing that makes sense. So much for extra time with Ryan she thinks as she wakes up in the airport parking lot.

“Sleeping beauty has risen!” Ryan chuckles, “Why don’t you get out and stretch your legs for a sec? We have the parking spot for another fifteen minutes.”

Magdalene does as suggested because truthfully her joints are a little stiff, and finds Cale and Livy grabbing their bags from the back. She hugs them goodbye and wishes them safe travels, which Cale returns with a warning not to get into too much trouble before heading for the entrance. Once both of them are safely inside the confines of the airport, Ryan and Magdalene get back in the vehicle and finish the last leg of the trip.

She directs Ryan to her apartment complex, and he mentions that he’s never been in this area of the city. “That’s because you have no need to be around a bunch of university kids,” she laughs. Once they pull into the parking lot, he offers to help her take up her bag. It’s only a small suitcase Magdalene could definitely handle herself, but she wants him to come up, to prolong her time with him.

Magdalene’s keys jingle in the lock as the door opens. Ryan follows her in and shuts the door carefully, not wanting to disrupt the aura of peace that permeates the space. From what he can tell, the average size apartment is the perfect reflection of Magdalene – packed full of books and plants and feels very put together despite the owner being only twenty-five. After their shoes find a home on the boot rack and the coats they brought for the drive home are hung in the closet she leads Ryan into the living room. There’s a soft purring by his feet, and Ryan looks down to see an animal. He never pegged Magdalene as someone to keep pets.

“Who’s this?” he asks, bending down to pet the small white cat.

“That’s Caligula.”

A puzzled look graces Ryan’s features. “Who?”

“Caligula,” Madalene giggles. “You can call him little boots if you’d like. He’ll respond.” She picks up the animal when it comes to her and scratches gently behind its ear.

“Why would you name your cat something dumb like Caligula, and why does it respond to little boots?”

It’s then the woman realizes that not everyone understands the reference. “Caligula was the third emperor of Rome,” she explains, “But his real name was Gaius. He gained the nickname Caligula as a child and it just stuck. It translates to little boots in Latin.”

Ryan is in awe of Magdalene for what feels like the millionth time. Of course someone as smart as her would have a crazy name for a pet and have the knowledge to back it up. He feels his chest tighten with affection but he wills it away. She isn’t looking for anything right now, he reminds himself. Magdalene’s self-professed inability to reciprocate his feelings is frustrating, but Ryan knows he’d wait forever for her.

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: catch some extra content here!

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[bubbleteaimagines]

Meant to Be

Chris Evans Oneshot

Summary: In which you and Chris are meant to be, in one life or the other

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of an age gap, angst, mentions of death, this is so sad but listen to this song while reading to have your heart ripped out

you glared at the back of chris’ head, or rather the back of his plane seat.

you were mad, and you were mad because you didn’t even have the right to be mad.

he hadn’t done anything wrong, technically. if you subtracted the fact that he had broken up with you months ago and had started dating a new woman shorty after then yes, chris evans had been perfectly innocent.

but no, instead it had been you that messed up. it had been you that couldn’t keep her fat mouth shut, word vomiting all over chris just before the plane ride.

you still cringed as you remember the moment.

you were standing outside of the airport, all cast members of the avengers headed to tokyo for press and interviews.

chris had been standing alone and for some reason, you had decided to take your final shot. you walked straight up to him, puffed out your chest, and blurred out how you were still in love with him like an idiot.

honestly, if you could have picked a time for an asteroid to suddenly destroy the earth then that would have been it.

there were no words to explain the awkwardness of your words, and how chris’ face looked as he gently explained to you that he was with someone now.

someone that wasn’t you. someone that wasn’t twenty years younger than him, someone more mature and most importantly, someone that wanted all the things he wanted.

you had to admit, it stung.

it stung bad that the only reason he broke up with you was because of your age.

“we’re too different,” he had said, “you’re only twenty and i’m almost forty. we just don’t want the same things anymore.”

what he meant to say was that he just didn’t want you anymore. and it killed you, it tore you apart everyday that you had lost the love of your life over a damn number.

what was a couple years when you had a romance like yours and chris’? you were so happy together. you had so much fun. there was never a dull moment and you loved each other so passionately, so deeply, that everybody you met would comment on it.

or, at least that’s what you thought.

but months later you were still left with a bitter taste in your mouth when you remembered that wasn’t your reality anymore.

he wasn’t yours anymore.

“you okay kid?” rdj looked at you worriedly as you bit the inside of your cheeks to keep from crying.

“no,” you whispered lowly so that chris or anyone else couldn’t hear you. “i did a stupid thing today. before we got on the plane, i...”

“ah. that,” robert winced as he reminisced the moment, and the awkward silence that followed.

“yes, that,” you sniffled, still staring at chris’ head. “i-i can’t believe i did that. i’m so stupid. chris was right — how would he ever want me back when i keep acting like a child?”

“hey,” rdj frowned and shook his head. “you’re not stupid. you were emotional. it happens to the best of us.”

“does it really?” you wonder, not believing it. “because right now, it seems like i’m the only one suffering.”

it was true — chris seemed absolutely fine. you never saw him crying in the tabloids after the breakup. you never saw him posting sad quotes on social media or shutting down completely.

in fact, it was the opposite. he seemed happier without your relationship. happier without you.

a sob bubbled up in your throat. you quickly ran for the bathroom.

chris and rdj both frowned at your disappearing figure, but chris also felt a pang of sadness.

he couldn’t help it, — how could he? you were once upon a time the absolute light of his life. for two years, you were his anchor. his rock. his pride and joy, the reason he wanted to come home every night.

chris had loved you with everything in his being. more than any woman he had ever before. you were the love of his life, but you were also someone he had let go.

to this day, he still didn’t know why he did it.

he didn’t know why he left you in hysterics that faithful day, begging him for an explanation. begging him not leave.

it still hurt when he thought about it. it still haunted his dreams, still caused him to twist his face in pain.

he hated hurting you. he always did.

but in a way, letting you go was to help you more than hurt you.

he knew that you were significantly younger than him. but still, he had tried to fool himself into thinking you could both work when it was clear you wanted different things.

chris wanted a family. he was ready to settle down, ready for you to get married and have children.

but you weren’t.

like any twenty year old, you wanted to party and see the world and maybe adopt a dog. but kids? marriage? you had barely experienced anything. you wanted more time, you had begged him to give you more time, but time wasn’t something chris had.

he wasn’t getting any younger.

but you were. you still had a young and fighting spirit and chris didn’t want to dampen it by forcing you into a life you weren’t ready for.

so he ended it.

he met another woman. they talked, they wanted the same things.

chris was happy. or at least, he tried to tell himself that. he tried to tell himself that he loved his girlfriend, loved that she wanted everything he wanted. he loved that he could finally have the life he’d always wanted.

only...it wasn’t.

because you weren’t in it.

-

the plane rocked vicicously as you stumbled back to your seat, eyes red.

thankfully, nobody decided to comment on it but you could see the frown on scarlet’s face and the concern on jermey’s. you could feel anthony wanting to say something, but he was right by chris and he didn’t wanna risk any drama.

not now. you all were supposed to be happy — you were promoting the biggest movie of your lives!

but excitement hardly reached you at all. hardly touched you at all, sadness blocking away any positive emotions.

“you okay?” robert asked again as you sat back down.

you stared at the floor for a moment before letting out a small nod. “i will be,” you said, not bothering to hide your voice this time.

chris frowned at this. he gripped the seat a little tight as the plane shook again.

“why don’t you relax?” rdj suggested, “have some water. try to get some sleep. we’ll be in tokyo soon.”

“where are we now?” you asked, trying to distract your mind.

“i think maybe...somewhere over indonesia? i dunno, the pilot didn’t specify. she just said—”

“ah!”

robert was cut off by the plane shaking again, but this time, it was more deadly.

you jolted to the left, a scream escaping your lips as you went flying out of your seat.

it had seemed you had forgotten to put your seat belt back on once you got back to your seat, and you tumbled into the aisle as the plane tilted in a deadly position.

“y/n!” oxygen masks were quickly administered to everybody on the plane. anthony had to fight chris to put on his, stopping him from taking off his seat belt and helping you.

“chris, no! you need this!”

“like hell! y/n needs me!” chris panicked as he saw your frame go flying.

scarlet screamed as the plane began to twist, the terrified voice of pilot administering the worst news possible.

“the engines have failed! the plane can no longer support itself! we’re going down!”

robert tried his best to reach out for you; to grab you and pull you to safety.

but it was as no use. the plane hit something hard and in a split second your body disappeared as the plane was literally torn apart.

the last thing he remembered was chris screaming for you before it all went black.

-

chris didn’t know how long it was before he finally woke again.

all he knew was that when he did, everything hurt like hell.

he groaned as the aches began to spread in his body, slowly peeling his eyes open to face the bright sunlight.

“h-hello?” his voice was horse. weak. “i-is anybody there?”

he cried out as he tried to move and felt pain emitting from his side. but as painful as it was, he knew he had to get up.

“chris?!”

several frantic voices called out his name, gasps echoing throughout the air. he moaned as someone dropped down beside him, the embrace that they pulled him into causing pain to shoot all over his body.

“oh my god, he’s alive!”

the voice belonged to scarlet. he could vaguely make out her blonde hair, and her figure as she stood over him.

“chris?”

anthony sooned joined her. “is that you buddy? can you hear us?”

“loud and clear,” chris moaned out. “w-what happened? why does everything...hurt?”

the only thing he remembered was seeing you run to the bathroom. and then, it all just went blank as if someone had erased his memories.

anthony’s face was as serious as he had ever seen it. but even more than that, it was grim. full of worry and hurt.

scarlet was the same. she had tears in her eyes and dirt on her expensive clothes that didn’t belong there. chris furrowed his eyebrows.

“we...” anthony swallowed thickly. “we were in a...crash. the engines — they stopped working. we barely had time to prepare before the plane...”

“oh my god,” chris was suddenly alert, panic filling very inch of him as he sat up.

he remembered now. he remembered seeing your figure flying all over the plane because you didn’t have a seat belt on. he remembered reaching for you, yelling your name and screaming for you.

he remembered begging any god that would listen to spare you before he blacked out.

“y/n!”

his eyes widened in horror. where were you?! he searched the premise quickly.

you weren’t anywhere sight. along with robert, jeremy, and hemsworth you were missing.

chris felt a feeling of absolute dread wash over him.

“no,” he whispered, quickly standing up. he ignored every pain in his body. he ignored scarlet and anthony’s warnings to take it easy.

he didn’t care. he didn’t care about himself anymore. his focus is was on you, and where the hell you were at the moment.

“y/n!” he yelled again, shaking his head frantically. “where is she? WHERE IS SHE?!”

both scarlet and anthony flinched at his tone. never, and they meant never, had chris yelled at them before.

“she’s alive,” scarlet answered immediately, trying to calm a frantic chris. “she’s alive, but...”

“it’s not looking good, pal,” anthony’s voice cracked, causing chris’ stomach to sink. “we found her but...she wasn’t wearing a seat belt. and when the plane crashed...she got stuck under some rubble.”

“oh god,” chris felt he was gonna be sick. “can i see her? where are the others? are they helping her? take me to her!”

“robert, jeremy and chris are all alive,” scarlet said. “they’re trying their best...”

scarlet’s voice fell on deaf ears as chris decided to just go see for himself. he was tired of them dancing around it. he wanted to see you. he wanted to know that you were okay, that you were alive.

“y/n!”

scarlet and anthony yelled after him but he paid them no mind, running through the rubble to find you.

the entire plane that they rented for you guys was in pieces. the wings had been ripped off, the cockpit was miles away, and the back of the plane, where you were sitting, was scattered everywhere.

“y/n!” chris tried again, his voice nearly going hoarse from yelling so loud.

but then this time, he did get a response.

he whipped around as someone called out his name, but disappointment filled his veins as he saw that it was only jermey.

“chris, buddy...” rdj and chris hemsworth ran up to him, holding him back.

“chris, you don’t need to see this,” hemsworth told him grimly.

so that meant you were nearby. but where?

scarlet said you had been trapped under some rubble. but what chris expected time was maybe a seat, or a small piece of metal.

a strangled cry left his throat as he saw that you were trapped under one of the plane wings.

“y-y/n,” nobody could stop him as he fell to his knees by your head, the only visible part of your body.

you didn’t even know what to say as the love of your life came into view.

you wanted to say everything — so much — but your body was on fire.

if chris thought he had it bad, then you were ten times worse.

not only were your legs pinned, but also your ribs and your left arm. the only thing that hadn’t been trapped was your right arm, which was completely numb, and your head.

you were still conscious, but not by much.

you could feel it.

the sensation everyone always talked about. the tingling in your brain. the white light behind your eyes.

you were close.

“c-chris,” so help you god, you were not gonna leave this earth without speaking to him one last time. you had said your goodbyes to everybody else. as soon as they realized that they couldn’t get the metal off of you — that they weren’t strong enough, and that help wasn’t coming — you had decided to make peace with your remaining breath.

but not with chris. with chris, you didn’t want peace. you wanted love and the happiness of seeing his eyes one last time.

“y/n...” the strangled sob that left his lips wasn’t human. it was gutural, animalistic. chris was crying out for you, he was in pain. “no!”

“i don’t...have much time,” you sputtered out pathetically, blood spilling out of your mouth. “i-i’m dying.”

the revelation was clear to see, but chris still refused to accept it.

“no!” he repeated the word once again. “no, you’re not dying! y/n, you can’t die!”

“c-chris please,” black spots began to cloud your vision. but chris didn’t give up.

“what are you all just standing there for?!” he glared angrily at his friends. “help me! help me get this shit off of her!”

everyone stared at chris with a gutted look in their eyes. they turned away as he tried to lift the wing, as he tried to accomplish what they already failed at hours ago.

“mate, we tried...” hemsworth sniffed. “it’s not coming up.”

“no!” chris turned to him with such fury, such denial that it actually made hemsworth stumble back. “no, you don’t get to decide that! you don’t get to just stand there while she’s dying!”

“we didn’t!” rdj quickly stepped in. “we tried to help.”

“well then try again!” chris snapped again, pushing against the metal. scarlet sobbed as it stayed in the same place.

“t-they know it w-won’t help,” your sad voice whispered out, causing chris to pause. “t-they know i-i’m a goner anyways.”

“don’t say that,” chris sobbed as he dropped to your side again, hands reaching out to stoke your numb cheek. “don’t say that you’re dying. you’re gonna be fine...you’re gonna be f-fine.”

you could tell that even he didn’t believe it. the damage was too extensive. there was no way you were getting out of there alive.

“t-tell my family that i l-love them,” you mumbled, coughing up blood. “and sebastian a-and tom and—”

“don’t,” chris cut you off. “don’t do this.”

he wore the expression of a man being burned alive. he was in pure agony, pain clawing at every inch of him. consuming him faster than it was taking you.

“r-remember that,” you ignored him, the ringing in your ears getting louder. “remember that i love...you.”

there it was.

chris finally broke upon hearing these words. so painful for you to spit out, but yet they were important enough to waste your last breaths on. he was important enough.

“i love you too,” chris broke down, sobs racking his body as he held your hand. “i love you, so much. more than you’ll ever know. i love you for everything that you are. you’re the love of my life. i can’t live w-without you baby.”

“y-you don’t have to...s-say it back...” you gave him a pained smile. “just because i-i’m dying...i know you love h-her now. s-she’s your f-future. i-i’m just sorry we never h-had a chance,” your eyes began to flutter.

“no, no, no, no!” chris whimpered. “it was never her, baby. i don’t love her. it was always you. you’re my future. p-please y/n, you’re the mother of my kids. you’re my wife. it was always gonna be you, no matter what,” he shook his head. “always and forever, we’re meant to be.”

“m-meant to be,” you stuttered out, a ghost of a smile on your face. if you had to die again, you’d happily go out with those words being the last thing you ever heard.

chris bawled as he watched the light finally leave your eyes and your body slump. you almost looked peaceful, as if you were smiling in your sleep, but he knew better.

the love of his life was gone.

“chris? chris? look at me!” robert grabbed chris by the shoulders as he started hyperventilating, pounding at the soil with his fists. “look at me, buddy!”

“she’s gone,” chris cried as robert held him in his arms, “s-she,”

his eyes began to flutter close as he struggled to get the words out. suddenly, it became harder to breathe. black spots clouded his visions and chris’ body began shutting down with every breath, unable to cope with your death.

“what’s happening?!” anthony yelled as chris painfully slumped over, his body going limp in robert’s arms.

shakily, the older man held two fingers to his neck and prayed that he wasn’t gone, too. he prayed that the universe didn’t take chris and you, all in one day.

but they knew.

they knew the minute he pulled his hand back, dropping his head lowly in defeat. they knew before he even opened his mouth. they knew as he pulled away, resting chris’ body gently next to yours.

“he’s gone.”

[excelsi-or]

your type (pt. 4)

Hey friends, hope you’re all healthy and staying safe. No real updates from me nor any recommendations. I’ve been a bit of a hermit from social media and the real world these days. Anyway, I think you guys will enjoy this part. :)

w.c. 2.1k

pairing: woozi x OC/reader

pt. 1; pt. 2; pt. 3

“What if they don’t convince her to come?” Jihoon asks Seungcheol.

“Are you worried?” Seungcheol chuckles, setting food on the coffee table. “You aren’t the type to worry.”

“We bet 100 each,” Jihoon snorts. “You sure you don’t want that money back?”

“I’m getting it doubled back.” Seungcheol waves him off. “Jihyo’s friends know how to play our game. It’s what makes her fun. So trust me, your girl will be here.”

Jihoon helps to set up the apartment until Mingyu and Wonwoo arrive half an hour earlier than everyone else. Mingyu’s their resident chef and has some last-minute cooking to do.

Once they’re done, Wonwoo and Seungcheol play a round of some video game that Jihoon doesn’t pay attention to. Instead, he sits hunched over his notebook.

“When are you going to stop working on that song?” Wonwoo asks. He leans across the couch to get a look at Jihoon’s notebook. “You’ve been working on it for ages.”

“If it’s not perfect already, hyung, it’ll never be perfect,” Mingyu calls from the kitchen.

“Will you all shut up?” Jihoon retorts. He scratches out the last line he’d written. “It’s not your grade on the line.”

“Prof only put that much pressure on you because you’re good.” Wonwoo sits back up again after Seungcheol shouts about a great penalty shot. “So, hand in whatever and she’ll give you an A+.”

“That woman would give Jihoon an A++ if she could,” Seungcheol snorts.

Wonwoo stretches his leg a little to give Seungcheol two affectionate kicks to the shin. “One day, someone will see all the potential in you too.”

The boys arrive on time and expect the girls to be an hour late like usual, but Seungcheol’s phone pings as they all start to settle in.

“Are they here already?” Jeonghan asks.

Hansol chuckles as he reaches for a chip. “Noona must be here too. She’s always on time.”

Jihoon closes his notebook and tucks it down the side of the couch, where he hides his notebooks when strangers come over. He glances up when the girls walk in loud and giggly. Hugs are exchanged, as certain girls gravitate towards certain people.

And the one person everyone is watching gravitates towards Mingyu after her initial greeting. Jihoon can hear her chatting casually with him.

“Why are you in here alone?” she asks.

“Gotta finish this for dinner.” Jihoon knows that Mingyu’s on his side for the bet, so he expects Mingyu to tell her to head into the living room.

But she beats him to the next line. “Do you need any help?”

“Oh.” There’s a pause. “Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

“Would I ask if I wasn’t offering? What do you need?”

“How are you, Jihoon?”

Jihoon pulls his attention to the person sitting beside him. It’s Wheein. She’s in his song writing class. They start talking about the songs they’re working on. While he is listening to Wheein, he definitely has his eye on the clock.

She doesn’t return to the living room until they come out with food. And then she sits by Hansol and Seungkwan. The two seem thoroughly excited to chat with her about everything.

When Mingyu sits near him, Jihoon hisses, “What the hell, Gyu?”

“Sorry!” Mingyu exclaims. He reaches forward to fill his plate. “Noona offered to help and I wasn’t going to say no.” He notices Jihoon’s look of disbelief. “You guys never offer to help me.”

Jihoon doesn’t want to make it obvious by getting up and sitting with her, but as one hour passes to two without a one-on-one conversation with her, he realizes he needs to pull out the “big moves”.

In this case, get her alone and ask her what the hell is going on.

He stands and meets her eye. “You want a drink?”

She shrugs. “Sure.”

Jihoon motions with his head to follow and she nods her understanding, getting up as her team tries to discern what words Jeonghan is referring to. She trails after him and leans against the archway into the kitchen. He pulls two cans of Coke from the fridge and hands one to her.

“Did you want to talk about something?” she asks.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Jihoon turns to face her. “But you don’t seem to want to talk to me.”

“Oh.” She blinks. “You didn’t make it seem like you wanted to talk to me, so I just… gave you your space.”

Jihoon’s eyes narrow. “You know I wanted to talk to you.”

“No, I didn’t.” She pulls the tap on her drink, letting the drink fizz before speaking. “You told me to come if Seungcheol invited Jihyo over. That could have meant anything.”

“I thought it was clear that it meant I wanted to see you again,” Jihoon states.

She shrugs. “Well, I’ve been here for two hours now and you’ve hardly looked at me or said anything to me since I got here. I’m not a mind reader, Jihoon.” She sips her drink. “Surprise.”

Jihoon snorts and takes a frustrated sip. “You’re impossible.

A small smirk appears on her face, dimpling her cheek. “I like guys who like to communicate. You’re going to have to communicate if you want my attention.”

Damn, his fatal flaw. He can keep girls at arm’s length by doing the complete opposite of what she likes. But the bet’s been set. Backing out means losing, so he nods his understanding.

“So, are we going to kick Seungkwan off my team so you can join me on the other side of the table?” She lightly kicks him in the calf. “Or are you willing to lose again?”

Jihoon runs his tongue along his teeth. “I’m not going to lose.”

She chuckles as she heads back to the living room. “I think what’s happening with your team is called ‘losing’, Jihoon.”

They play games all night long. Nearly everyone gets so drunk that when Jihoon sees her struggling to rally the girls together, he suggests that maybe they ought to stay over.

Jihoon takes Wheein’s arm. “You’re not going to be able to get them all home safe.”

She concedes to that fact. Besides her, Jihoon and Hansol are the only ones sober. Hansol had informed her around hour 3 of intense drunkedness, there’s an established rule that at least two of them need to stay sober.

“We get too out of hand if we’re all drunk. Last time all of us were this drunk, we found a milk jug in the toilet and Soonyoung hyung sleeping in the tub surrounded by his own vomit.”

She passes Jihyo off to Hansol and then helps Hwasa out of her boots again. They congregate in the living room. Jihoon offers his bed to Momo, Sana and Sejeong. Jihyo, Wheein and Hwasa take Seungcheol’s. The boys pile together in the living room.

Jihoon shuts the door to Seungcheol’s room, blankets under one arm. He looks around when he doesn’t see her in the living room with the boys. He tosses the pile of blankets on Soonyoung’s stomach when he hears shuffling in the kitchen.

He finds her with her shoes on, coat going around her shoulder. “You’re not staying?” Jihoon asks.

She shakes her head as she wraps her scarf around her neck. “I don’t do sleepovers. Especially not if you’re here and sober too.”

“Oh, come on. Who hurt you?” Jihoon teases. He sees a flash of hurt cross her face and realizes he’s touched a nerve. “Sorry.” He looks over the kitchen and living room divider; Hansol is trying to shake Seokmin off to put him to sleep. Jihoon turns back to her. “Walk you home?”

She shrugs. “You won’t take a no, so bundle up.”

She slips her gloves on and Jihoon goes to grab socks and his jacket. Hansol looks over when he reemerges.

“I’m just going to walk her home,” Jihoon explains. Most of the boys have knocked out around Hansol’s feet. “Is that cool?”

“Noona’s not going to stay?”

Jihoon shakes his head.

“Okay, yeah. I should be—Seungkwan, lie down.” Hansol bats off Seungkwan’s hands from his ankles.

Jihoon is genuinely surprised she waited for him. It would have been a perfect excuse for her to duck out.

“Bye Hansol!” she calls.

“Get home safe, noona! Will you get off?”

She frowns at Jihoon. “Is he going to be okay?”

“The boys get clingy when they’re intoxicated.” Jihoon waves off her concern. “He’ll be fine.” He opens the door for her and she leads the way into the hallway.

They pick up their conversation where they had left it during the last round of Truth. Her girls love the game when everyone’s a bit drunk, and the boys definitely shared more than she anticipated. She now knows way too much about Joshua’s showering habits.

But Jihoon is the most interested in the truths about her.

“They said you have the best game,” he states.

It was the last Truth for Sejeong. “What’s something shocking that we wouldn’t believe?”

All the girls had chimed in immediately.

She throws her head back with a laugh now and presses the call button for the elevator. “I haven’t used any of my ‘game’ in a long time. So probably not anymore.”

“But at one time, you did.”

“Maybe.” She watches the lights move towards their floor. “What does that even mean anyway?” The doors open before them.

“Well, for us, it means you can get any girl to agree to go on a date with you without too much effort.”

“Hm.” She presses for the ground floor. “I guess, then… yeah.”

Jihoon cocks an eyebrow. “I’m all ears.”

“Hey, let’s keep in mind that I’ve settled before. I don’t like playing the game.”

“Even though it’s fun?”

“Maybe for you. But…” She adjusts her scarf. “I actually like the feelings and emotions and everything that comes with a real relationship. It’s not just about the sex for me.” She tips her head both ways. “But it definitely helps if the guy’s good at it.”

Jihoon chuckles.

His response gets her to crack a smile. “Anyway, the game gets boring when everyone plays it the same way.”

Jihoon agrees with the sentiment. “So, how many boyfriends have you actually had?”

“I told you already, one.”

“Your face said something else earlier.”

She pauses and then the elevator doors open. They head out of the apartment building and it isn’t until they’ve started on their way to her place that she says anything. “I don’t like playing, because I’ve been played. And I don’t count him, because…” She sighs. “How can I count someone who hurt me that way?”

Jihoon wants to ask more questions. If he can figure out how these guys won her over, he’s a shoe in to win that bet. “What made you like him? You know, if he hurt you that bad, you must have had a lot of feelings for him.”

She chews on her bottom lip and watches where she steps to avoid slipping on some of the icy parts. “I’ve only known you for a few days. Why do I need to answer this?” Her eyes swing his way. “How about you answer some of myquestions?”

Jihoon hesitates, but remembers that communication is important to her. He’s going to have to open up a little. “Shoot.”

“What about me is interesting you enough to bother?”

“That seems kinda vain, don’t you think?” Jihoon jokes.

She smiles a little with a shrug. “Maybe, but I’ve heard many mixed things about you, Lee Jihoon.” She nudges him. “Tell me why I’m worth pursuing.”

He won’t admit that the challenge of winning her over is enticing to him; he’ll lose her immediately. Luckily, she’s just his type and he doesn’t have to lie much. “You’re gorgeous, smart. New blood is always fun. I like your refreshing energy, even if your personality’s kinda harsh.” This makes her laugh out loud and he smiles. “I meet a lot of people like me, who date just to see how many notches they can get on their bedpost.”

“That’s an old analogy,” she chuckles.

“It’s also nice to meet someone who wants to love just to love.”

She grabs his arm when she feels her footing go. “Good god.” Jihoon eases her over the icy patch and then she asks her next question. “So, what makes you think I’ll play along with your game?”

“Game?”

“Oh, come now, this can’t be because you’re actually interested in me that way. You just told me that you think the game is fun.”

“We’re all looking for love, are we not? That’s the end goal.”

“And what was wrong with all the other girls you dated? I’m sure they were nice enough.”

“Nice enough is not the same as perfect.”

“Perfect doesn’t exist.” She sighs.

And then changes the conversation completely.

“What are your parents like?”

“My parents?”

“A lot of people carry pieces of their parents around. What are yours like?”

“Great,” he answers honestly. “Better than great. They’re perfect.”

She smiles at that. Jihoon can practically see a wall coming down at that statement.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Distraction {One-Shot}*

Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Silliness, Cursing, Mild NSFW

Words: 1.9k

Note: So, this came in and I thought this is cute. It got me thinking how this would go down for both Chris and Jason. So, this is for Chris and I’m thinking of doing one for Jason as well. Anyway, I hope I did this right and I hope you guys enjoy this. Thank you, as always for reading!!!❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

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

You were very active on social media. As a model social media really gave you the free exposure that kept your name on everyone’s lips. These days, a girl had to use every tool at her disposal, and social media was a massive tool. Your management team thought it didn’t hurt you, so they allowed it. Of course, there are some things you kept off of social media completely, and sometimes you teased at.

 At the beginning of yours and Chris’s relationship, both of you thought it was a good idea to keep things quiet. You didn’t want the hoopla about being his “new fling,” and he didn’t want you exposed to that kind of negativity. He knew his fanbase was insane. For the first year and a half of your relationship, it was kept so quiet that no one but your families knew what was going on. By the time the public got wind of things, you and Chris had been together for two blissful years.

Today, at almost three years in, your relationship was not a secret. Everyone knew how crazy Chris was about you. He was not quiet about expressing his love for you, and he was not shy about posting pictures or little snippets that were about you. You two were crazy in love and had yet to get out of the honeymoon phase. When you got the message from Scott, you didn’t think anything of it. When you opened the link attached, it brought you to a Tik Tok page.

 The girl was whispering to the camera about doing some sort of prank. She was going to walk into the room naked while her boyfriend was playing video games to see what he would do.  You watched her drop the towel and everything and prance into the room. As expected, it took her boyfriend a whole of ten seconds to look at her and one second for him to drop the controller and approach her. When the video ended, that started your descent down the rabbit hole. You watched video after video of girls and guys doing the same thing.

 Almost all the videos of the girls doing it ended just as how you’d expect. The videos of the guys doing it were mostly met with giggles, but a few you could guess what happened after the screen darkened. Thus started your wheels. You spent the next ten minutes trying to come up with a plan. You didn’t need a reason to be naked in your own house, but you wanted optimal results. You could pretty much imagine what was going to happen. You got on IG and posted a quick live.

 “Hey guys it’s your girl Y/N. I hope you guys are well. So, I just got sent a video from one of my favorite humans on this earth, and it gave me a wonderful idea. I’m bored, and you know what they say idle hands do the devil's work.” You gave a sinister smile.

 “Tune into my Tik Tok for just exactly what I mean. Bye, guys.” You blew a kiss to the camera and ended the video to post it.

 A message came in from one of your friends.

 MSG Simone: What are you about to do now?

MSG: Nothing, just mess with Chris a little.

MSG Simone: That poor man. I know he’s about tired of you during all this free time.

MSG: LOL. 😂 I know you’re right. TTYL.

 As you were finishing up formulating your plan, you scurried downstairs looking through the rooms of Chris and your Boston townhouse. He wasn’t anywhere you expected. When you got to his office there he was behind his desk.

 “Hey beautiful,” Chris greeted with a smile as he reached out for you.

 “Hi, baby.” You approached him and allowed him to wrap his arms around your waist as you sat on his lap. Chris moaned and nuzzled his cheek onto your breast.

 “Perfect attire you have there,” you pointed out, nodding to his half-dressed state. He wore a short-sleeve fitted Henley and his boxer briefs. He snorted.

 “What? I think this is the perfect attire for where we are. Don’t you?” He nudged his hips up, sending his half-hardened member on your ass.

 “Woah, calm down.” Chris trailed kisses along your collar up to your neck and your ear. Once there, he softly nibbled and sucked your earlobe. He was doing such a good job distracting you that you didn’t feel his hand creep underneath your tank top to grip your breast. When he gently pinched your nipple and rolled it between his thumb and pointer, you groaned. With his free hand, he trailed it into the front of your lounge shorts and quickly found your clit.

 “Fuck.” You sighed out and closed your eyes, enjoying the feel of his hands on you. His moan was like a croak, and you knew what he wanted.

 “Nope. I did not come down here for this.” You got off of his lap and took a few steps away.

 “Come on. You’re really gonna say no to this?” He motioned to his lap where he was hard enough to proceed until he reached peak hardness.

 You bit your bottom lip because are you kidding, your man was a whole snack, and he had dinner right before you. Shaking your head, you focused.

 “I’m gonna say no. I wanted to know what you wanted for dinner.”

 “I’m looking at dinner and dessert.” He rose his eyebrows, and you couldn’t help but snort.

 Turning your back, you saw the perfect spot for your phone. Playing it off and knowing his eyes were focused elsewhere, you poked out your ass a little while you planted your phone, ensuring it was recording. When you turned to him, he looked ready to pounce.

 “Fine, since you won’t tell me seriously. I’ll make whatever.”

 With that, you turned and walked out of his office. “I know you want me!” You smiled at his cocky but absolutely true statement.

 When you got back upstairs and calmed yourself down, a message came in from Chris.

 MSG Chris: About to hop on this Zoom with the group. You wanna come join me?

 A wide smile spread across your face. You couldn’t have planned this better.

 MSG: No, I’m going to hop in the shower.

MSG Chris: Ooh, want some company?

MSG: One track mind. Didn’t you say you were getting on Zoom?

MSG Chris: They’d understand. We can reschedule in an hour. What else do they have to do?

MSG: Keep it in your pants. I’ll shower alone. Tell them I said hi.

MSG Chris: Boo!

 This was perfect, you thought. In order to make it a little believable, you answered a few emails and got a little work done in order to pass a little time. After a good fifteen to twenty minutes passed, you got yourself primed and ready by stripping down, grabbing your towel, and just adding a little natural colored lip gloss and making sure your hair looked right. After being pleased with your reflection, you felt the nerves. This could go either way, but you were more than sure he would be embarrassed.

 As you walked down the hall toward Chris's office, your excitement returned. You couldn’t wait to see his reaction. The closer you got, you could hear the voices from the Zoom. You heard Mackie, Pratt, RDJ, Scarlett, Seb, and Hemsworth. They were carrying on as if the zoom was nothing. They were laughing and everything. You also heard the sound of the tv. They were watching some old boxing match. This was a modern-day bro’s fight night and chill. You shook your head.

 Before you walked into his office, you took a few deep breaths and dropped your towel, and walked inside.

 “Aw come on, that was clearly an easy takedown he should’ve--,” Chris paused midsentence and just watched you enter the room. In one hand, he held his beer bottle, and the other was raised in the air to the TV before him.

 “You alright, buddy?” You pinched your lips at RDJ’s inquiry. He sure was not alright.

 “Uh—what’re—what’re you doing?”

 “What?”

 “Is that Y/N?” Scarlett’s excitement fully came through.

 “Hiiiiiiiiiiii,” they all exclaimed in unison. Chris didn’t look as if he were breathing.

 “Come on, dude, let us see her. Don’t hog her all to yourself,” Pratt groaned out. Chris gulped.

 “Nope, you can’t—can’t see her. uh-uh.” You smiled and walked further in going in front of your phone, knowing that the angle wouldn’t show anything.

 “Jesus Y/N.” Chris stood, and everyone on the zoom shouted out.

 “Woah! No one wants to see that!” Hemsworth’s protest was loud.

 “Put that thing away!” Seb mimicked the vomiting sound.

 “What the hell is going on, man!” Mackie just sounded through with all of it.

 You couldn’t conceal your laughter anymore and busted out.

 “Wow, okay, so I’m gonna go, guys. I have some work to do here.”

 “Ewww, work?” Scarlett sounded disgusted.

 “Please mate, we know we’ll see you in ten minutes,” Hemsworth teased.

 Chris dipped down and looked into the camera of his laptop.

 “Ha, that might be how they do things down under, but here in the Evans house, work doesn’t end until me, and my woman are thoroughly drenched if you catch my drift. Later.”

 “Wow, dip on us for some pus—,” Mackie’s sentence was cut off by Chris, closing the laptop and damn near pouncing on you like the predator he was. You screamed and ran out of his office, but you weren’t quick enough before he scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder. You laughed the entire way back to his office.

 “Where you going with all of this running from me?” Chris attacked your neck and dropped his head to your nipple. You moaned and got lost again before you remembered.

 “Wait, wait. My phone.”

 “Nope, you don’t need it. I need your hands free for what I want you to do.”

 “No, Chris, my phone. It’s recording.”

 “What?”

 You pointed to your phone on the ledge underneath the wall mounted tv.

 “Why is your phone there and recording? Did you want to make a video?” He wiggled his eyebrows again, and you laughed again.

 “No! oh my god, it was a Tik Tok thing. Walk in naked while your boyfriend is doing something to see his reaction.”

 Understanding washed over Chris’s face before he laughed.

 “Wow, so this was all a little trick?”

 “Stop recording, or this will turn into a very different video.”

 Chris’s eyes darkened, and he smiled widely. “Guess it’s turning into a whole different video. I’m not stopping anything.”

 You stared at each other, and you could tell he was serious. Chris pushed you back onto the desk and plopped your legs wide open and got to work.

 “Oh, fuck!” One lick and everything fell to the wayside. You could edit it out after all.

[apep40]

Just thinking about my favourite film and conceiving of some head canons for how the characters progressed after the films ending. So hers mine-

-Abby, like Elia in the book, turned Owen almost right away not wanting to see someone she loved age and die.

-As a shout out to vampire folklore Owen is rather uncomfortable when passing over bodies of water, due to being traumatized after  nearly being drowned in the pool. The first few times he even had flashbacks.

-Also, due to his alcoholic yet rather hypocritically  religious mother he would hate christian iconography.

- He deeply enjoys his powers, especially the ability to fly. To the ability he actually becomes more skilled than Abby  in some of them due to wanting to explore and experiment with his abilities while Abbys had fallen into a rout over the centuries. His favourite, after flying, was super-strength after a lifetime of being weak and frail.

- Due to his obsession with space he tried flying out of earths atmosphere and spend the rest of the night pouting when he realized he couldn't.

-The massacre at the pool became a major media story. Especially when it became obvious that kenny and his friends were in the middle of attacking Owen before being ripped apart, leading to a lot of speculation about what exactly happened to owen and where his body was.

- It also came out how horribly Owen was abused by his classmates  and how the school did nothing to protect him. It caused a lot of sympathy to be directed to owen, which did nothing but annoy him since it was much too late to be of any benefit to him

- Owen and Abby left america and  traveled to parts of the world where it was  dark and the nightes were long like Canada or Russia or Scandanvia. At Owens insistence because he hated america after everything that had been done to him there. Also because Mr.Zoric was the only adult who treated him with respect and kindness and he was european.

- His first few kills were people who reminded him of Kenny and his friends.

- Owens mom and dad almost went insane when they heard what happened, with no body as closure torturing them even more. They both felt especially guilty when  they found out how he was being horribly bullied. They both went on television to claim how their baby wasnt dead and they pleaded with both Owens assumed captors to let him go and Owen himself to forgive them for being so neglectful and cruel to him. Again it was much too late from owens perspective.

-Despite having all of abbys powers Owen would still be rather meek and shy, at times. To the point hed be absurdly intimated by people he could rip apart like paper.

-He would also keep forgetting he could no longer consume anything but blood. It would be a sort of running gag that he thought he could cheat and eat just one now or later sweet before realizing that, no, he couldnt and would violently vomit.

-On a related note he would lose alot of social norms like Abby had surprisingly quickly, since hes living a nomadic life with only Abby for company and he was always a bit odd and awkward. Plus he wants to emulate her. Like going barefoot and not having much of a nudity taboo since he doesnt need clothes for protection from the elements. To the point of going naked like Dr.Manhattan in the snow when they live in rural areas.

- Since he lived in contemporary culture as a human unlike Abby he would often be the one to have to arrange transport or living arrangements like hotels. He would also be smart enough to pretend to still have human needs when staying around people. He would order room service so people wouldn’t be too curious why he and Abby were never seen eating, he would continue to wear thick winter clothes so not to alarm people when walking through a cold urban area

- Owen would get even paler due to his vampirism, which coupled with how pale and underweight he looked already as a human got him unwanted and embarrassing attention from  concerned adults. Especially mothers who would fuss over him and give him maternal attention and concern he once would have killed for but simply irritated him now.

-Although he eventually learned to embrace his cuteness and used it to manipulate adults to make them think he was harmless, like abby did with the man in the tunnel. He would even make puppy dog eyes at people, which got him some light teasing from Abby.

@dyslexic-fool​ ive just thought of a few more

- Because of all the times he was attacked in enclosed spaces and held down by Kenny and his friends as they beat him he really hates tight spaces and he avoids lying in their trunk whenever possible. When he does Abby has to hold him so he doesnt get too upset.

-Maybe because ive read the much darker book but i think Owens fine features and frail body would work against him a few times. Like in some cases when hes trying to lure victims to eat it turns out hes attracted the attention of a pervert who thinks hes pretty and weak and try to cop a feel, which Owen would instantly put a stop to by efficiently snapping their necks. Most of the times. A few times Owen would have the misfortune of his ass being grabbed or being groped which would remove all inhibitions from Owen completely and he would rip them literally to bloody shreds, necessitating a very quick escape from both he and Abby.

-Abby herself would be awkward at times, since Owens the first person who was her equal since she was human and the first person she was romantically attracted to ever.

-coupled with how unaware she is of modern social norms and she would do rather odd things around him. Like staring at him when he undresses ( as a reflection to his voyeurism he displayed in the film, which he would have abandoned at that point because he was no longer alone)

-The one power Owen wouldnt be interested in learning would be telepathy, because Owen wouldnt want Abby learn about his private thoughts ( like his fantasies about killing Kenny) or embarrassing memories like the times Kenny hurt him so much he wet himself and hes a misanthropic who thinks all adults are stupid and evil and he wouldnt want to learn their thoughts.

[notyetneedcoffee]

Wrong Number

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: +18 for smutty dirty talk

* * *

“Thank god you answered. I need you to save me.”

There was a long pause. You knew you sounded desperate.  

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky Barnes stopped dead in the street forcing several people to weave around him. He looked at the phone in his hand, not recognizing your smooth female voice. The number was not familiar either.  

“From what?”

“This team building, touchy-feely conference is going to make me vomit, and if I don’t convince Kevin -” you said the name with distain, “that I have a boyfriend, I’m going to be forced to stab him in the neck with my pen. I like this pen. It’s a Monte Blanc. It doesn’t deserve to be bloodied up.”

The man on the other end of the line chuckled. It was deep and rich. And, completely unfamiliar. You whispered. “This isn’t Joey, is it?”

“Nope, sorry. Name’s Bucky.” Came his amused response. “But I can’t refuse a dame in distress. Anything I can do to help? I’d hate to see you have to resort to stabbings.”

You laughed. Not only did this man’s voice feel like audible whiskey, he was willing to play along. “Really? You’re an angel.”

“No one’s ever accused me of that.”

“Even better.” You smirked. The annoying executive from Palm Springs, Kevin, drifted closer to you. He tried to be discrete, but instead came off as a creeper. You switched to a fake conversation. “I told you, Love, I can’t get out of this. I’m stuck here until Friday night and before you ask, no you can’t come.”

“Is Kevin there?” Bucky asked.

“You’re right.” You sighed, as if answering something completely different.  

“Is he close enough to over-hear if you held the phone out?”  

“Oh, sure.” You purred.

Damn. His low chuckle sounded like pure sin and caused your crossed legs to tighten.  

“Okay Doll, here’s what I want you to do. I’m going to explain exactly why ‘your boyfriend’ wants to be there, and in shock, you’re going to hold the phone out a little. Turn the volume up a touch so he catches what I’m saying.”

You giggled. “There’s a reason I adore you.”

He laughed. “Ready?”

“Oh yes” you breathed, a little heady. Kevin looked sideways at you.

“Come on, Doll, you know you want me there.” Bucky’s voice rumbled through the phone. “It hasn’t been that long, but my cock is aching for that tight pussy of yours. You need me to fuck you senseless. I know it ‘cause I’m ready right now to bury myself in that wet cunt. I want to taste you everywhere, goddamn Doll, I can imagine your honey on my tongue. Let me come and set you on fire. I don’t care if the whole conference hears you scream, cause Baby, when you come all over me it’s the most beautiful sight in the world. I know I’ve wrecked you for any other man, haven’t I? The way you come for me again and again. I don’t think we can survive until Friday. If you make me wait, when I get ahold of you, I’m going to fuck you until we both pass out.”

You didn’t need to fake the flush on your cheeks. His words, his voice, soaked your panties.  

It did the job. Kevin blanched, then reddened, before making a quick escape to the other side of the lounge.

“Oh, you are so good.” You smiled wickedly. “Your real girlfriend is a lucky lady.”

“Got rid of him, huh?” He was silent a moment. “Ain’t got a girl.”

You cradled the phone closer, turning more fully to the bar and waved for another drink. “Shame. Good sense of humor. Quick on mark. Great voice. Extra bonus points for the dirty talk. You even came to my rescue. I’d say you’re quite the catch.”

You could hear his breath, as if he were holding the phone very close to his face. Finally, he spoke quietly. “That’s nice, but you don’t know me, Doll.”

“Well,” you rolled the amber liquid around in your glass. “Now that I don’t have creepy dude breathing down my neck, we could actually have a conversation.”

Again, silence stretched for a moment. Background voices became clearer and somewhat insistent, though you couldn’t make out all the words. Bucky’s voice suddenly filled you ear with a clipped tone. “Good luck with things. I have to go.”

The phone went dead. Well, damn.

You finished your drink alone, imagining what kind of man could possess that voice, dripping with smoked honey and filthy words. You blamed your warm skin on the alcohol, but the slick between your legs resulted from that interaction.  

Bucky. That’s what he said his name was. Before you could lose it, you saved the best wrong number you’d ever dialed to your contacts.

* * *

“What the hell is wrong with you, man?” Sam Wilson nudged Bucky in the shoulder, earning a glare that would terrify most.

“Something is bothering you, Buck.” Steve Rogers punched the up elevator button again. They’d gone to an emergency briefing and his friend seemed distracted the whole time. “I can tell.”

Bucky just shook his head slightly, frowning. Steve’s head dropped to one side in a clear ‘really?’ expression. He sighed. “I was speaking with someone on the phone when you guys came to get me, and I realized I never got her name. That’s all.”

“HER name?!” Sam grinned. “What, pray tell, were you talking to HER about?”

“Can it.”

“C’mon. Who is she?” Sam beamed and they all piled in the elevator. “If you’ve got her number, you know we can get, like, everything on this girl. We do have spies here, you know?”

“Sam.” Steve warned as Bucky looked murderous. “If Buck wants to find her, he’s got the know how to do it. Let him be.” Then just to dig a little, he added. “It’s not like she could have made that much of an impression. He didn’t even get her name.”

When the elevator doors opened on the living quarters floor, Bucky bolted straight to his suite. Fuck those guys.

All evening he kept staring at his phone. Her number was there. He could call her. Of course, she’d probably be sleeping by now. What time did normal people go to bed? Plus, she was at some sort of conference, which probably meant early morning meetings. Yes, he decided, she was probably sleeping.

He watched another hour of the history channel before the lure the phone had it in his hands. He could just text her.

Sorry I ditched the call so fast. Work.  

There, he felt a little better. He apologized. Sort of.

The beep of his phone made him jump. He looked at the words in shock.

It’s ok. Glad you texted. Would still love to talk some time when I’m not tucked into bed, unless pillow talk is an option! Call me after my sessions. 1600 tomorrow?  

You answered him back..  

I don’t think I gave my name. It’s Y/N, but you can still call me Doll if you want.

Buck smiled at his phone and said your name aloud, tasting it on his lips.

I’ll talk to you tomorrow. ‘Night. B

He threw the phone down, smiling to himself.

He got ready for bed. Sam’s words began plaguing him as he brushed his teeth. He could look her up. It’s not like people didn’t put their whole lives on the internet for anyone to see these days. Even though he never uses any of that stuff, and didn’t even know how, Bucky knew just who to ask.

“Friday,” he called out to the building’s AI as he sat back in front of the big screen.  

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes. How may I assist you?”

“If I provide you with a name and a phone number, can you show me if they have any stuff on the internet?”

“Of course.” Bucky spoke your name and phone number. Almost immediately images began to fill the screen. Friday offered a summary. “Y/N, age 33. Born in San Francisco, California. Is a medical doctor with a degree from Stanford Medical University. She is currently employed with the CDC in the city of New York. Five years ago she filed for divorce from her husband only 5 months after –“

Bucky put both hands in the air. “Stop! This isn’t what I was looking for…”

The AI voiced a disturbingly thorough list of information that could be obtained with just a name and cell phone number. He stopped her again. “Friday, is there’s anything on Social Media, stuff she’s shared openly.”

“Of course, Sergeant Barnes.” The screen opened to an Instagram account and a Facebook page.  

Bucky stared at her profile picture. He picked up the controller and began to skim through the posts full of dark humor, beautiful smiles, random things around the city, and for some reason, her toes. There were pictures of her toes in the grass at the park, in the sand at the beach, propped on the rail of a balcony. He found it oddly adorable.

He found a short video of her trying to say a tongue twister. There was that voice. This was definitely her. Bucky watched the video clip again. Finally, he went to bed, her voice in his head.

* * *

Your phone rang at 4:02, just as you stepped out of the elevator on the fourteenth floor. “Hello, stranger.”

“Hi, Y/N.” Bucky sounded tentative. “Is now okay?”

“Sure, I’m just getting back to my room. We’ve got a two-hour break before a boring ass dinner with a keynote speaker.”

“Any trouble with Kevin?” He asked.  

You giggled. “None at all. In fact, he turned the brightest shade of red. Poor fellow, got all muddled looking. All day he kept stealing glances my way, so I kept checking my phone and subtly acting hot and bothered.”

“You’re mean.” He laughed.

“He’s a jerk, and if his pompous ass can’t handle the thought of a man being more virile that he is, tough shit.” You giggled again. “Besides, it was fun.”

“See. Mean.” Bucky grew more serious. “Didn’t mean to cut you off like that. Just some guys I, uh, work with came up with an urgent matter.”

“At least they didn’t walk up to hear you say you want to bury your cock in my wet cunt.” You purred, smiling to yourself as you kicked off your shoes and laid back on the hotel bed. A long silence followed. “Bucky?”

“Sorry.” His rich voice sounded an octave or two lower.  “I’m, uh, it’s just -” He stumbled for a moment before falling silent again.  

You frowned, asking quietly. “Did I go too far?”

“No.” His voice still held that deep sexy tone, only softer. “I’m just not real used to hearing such things from a woman’s lips, and -” he took a deep breath, “your voice is like silk. It just does things to me.”

“Mmm, good to know I’m not the only one affected by our conversations.” You purred.

“Damn, Doll.” Bucky chuckled. “I don’t even know you, but I could listen to you all day. And I hate being on the phone.”

You wanted to crawl through the line and see if he looked and felt as good as he sounded. “Well, I sure am happy to have dialed a wrong number.”

“Me too. Uh, who were trying to reach when I got so lucky?” Bucky asked.

“Joey. He’s friend from my building. Both him and his husband both work at home, so I thought of them first. I don’t know why.”

“You don’t have him in your contacts?”

“No, new number and I just had it jotted on a post it.” You stared out the window at the rain pelting down. Your phone said it was nice at home. “So, you’ve got a New York number. Is that home?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too.” You smiled to yourself.

“Where are you now?” Bucky asked. You heard something conspicuously like a bottle of beer – or a soda, but probably as beer – being opened.  

“Orlando. It’s a conference on pandemics. Unfortunately, it’s less science and more ‘we all just need to get along’ communication bullshit.” You sighed. “I’m probably being harsh, but there’s better things I could be doing with my time.”

“So, you’re what? A doctor?” Bucky asked, although he already knew the answer.  

“Yes. But I do research, not practice. What about you? What do you do when you’re not saving ladies from creepers?”

“That’s pretty much my job.” He deadpanned.  

You busted up. Typical.  

“I’m - um – you could say I’m in the high-stakes security business.” Bucky answered when your laugh faded away.

“Can’t really talk about it?” You knew a lot of federal agents and private security officers through your work. They didn’t talk about their work either.  

“Something like that.” He hesitated.

“Well, then, if you can’t tell me about your work,” You purred, “you’ll just have to tell me what gets your motor running, Bucky.”

“Oh, really?” His chuckle came deep from his chest.  

“Yeah, and don’t give me any ‘slow jazz, sunsets and long walks on the beach’ horseshit.”  

He laughed, full and light. “But I like jazz.”

* * *

Getting through the conference with a bunch of phone calls and regular text exchanges with Bucky turned out to be much better than the first few days without. His humor was dark and sarcastic. Although you didn’t delve into anything about his work, and you both kept the exchanges fun, you felt like you’d gotten to know him well. How could you feel a closer connection to someone you’d never met, than you did with the last man you dated for two months?  

Bucky had sent you a text stating that he would be on a job and unreachable for several days on the night you arrived back in New York. It was sweet the way he wanted to assure you that he would call, and he felt bad he could only text a farewell. You assured him you understood. He called you an amazing dame.

Work the next week barely allowed for time to miss the text exchanges, so much had piled up in your absence. On Wednesday, you were thirty-two pages into the clinical results of a recent test when the phone beside you rang.  

“Dr. Y/L/N.” You answered.

“Good morning, Y/N. It’s Rebecca Kim.”  

You recognized the name immediately. She was a private researcher and you both served on several committees together. “Oh, hi. What can I do for you?”

“We’ve had a situation,” Dr. Kim used the term loosely. “There’s a potential exposure here. It looks like, damn I’m not certain, but it might be XF3058.”

You froze. It was a designer pathogen, a targeted and weaponized disease. All the information on XF3058 was highly confidential, kept under tight security. “Is it active, or inert?”

“Currently Inert. But the subject shows signs of full infection and he was among the populous. I need help here.”

“I’m on my way.”

It only took twenty minutes to pack up what you needed and catch a cab to Stark Tower. Rebecca waited for you in the lobby. You would need escorting to the top security research levels. You’d only been here twice before. It was like Candy-Land, all the best tech.  

The two of you were joined by Doctor Banner. He was a kind man, bright and quick to offer you a smile. “So, you’re here help figure out if we’re all doomed?”

“It’s a targeted pathogen.” You shrugged. “Unless you have the correct genes, we’re not ALL doomed.”

“We just don’t know how many people it could infect.” He nodded.

“My last estimate was .14% of the populace could be potential targets, which is still hundreds of thousands of people on the eastern seaboard alone.” You began reviewing the data.  

Nearly seven hours later the computer in front of you beeped, indicating the test simulation finalized. Looking at the report, you jumped up. “Yes!”

“What?” Banner removed his glasses.

“Gotcha, you little bastard.” You pointed at the screen before turning to the other two in the room. “I’ve been running down the genetic signature. This is an old strain. The degradation in the proteins made me think about sixty years. I then pulled the profiles of the known examples of that time frame, and I can say conclusively this is from the Cold War lab of one Kazimir Maksimov. I’ve got the exact genetic sequenced.”

“So, we can engineer an antidote.” Rebecca sighed. “I’ll get the system on it right away.”

“I’m going to take Dr. Y/L/N up to brief the team.” Doctor Banner stood.

You followed him out of the room and up in bright steel elevators. It wasn’t until then than by ‘team’ he meant ‘Avengers’. Nervously, you smoothed your clothes and tried to check your reflection in the metal wall.

“Don’t worry. They’ll just be glad you found the solution.” Bruce smiled.

“Kinda wish I’d at least been wearing something other than jeans the first time I meet Stark, you know.”

He laughed. “Tony’s all bark and no bite. If he gives you shit, give it right back.”

The elevators doors opened and Bruce led you to a glass encased conference room. Tony Stark, a red-head woman, and sandy-haired man stood around an interactive screen at the end of the room. “Hey guys,” They all turned when you entered. “This is Dr. Y/N. She’s the one Becca brought in. We’ve got news. She’s worked it out.”

“Ah, the CDC doc.” Stark propped a hip on table. “So why aren’t you here working for me?”

“You haven’t offered.” You retorted with a smile. “Can I pull up my files from here?”

Turns out Stark and the others, Natasha and Clint, were far more forthcoming with the details. The victim of the pathogen was actually a Hydra agent taken down in the process of eliminating a hold-out base.  They weren't sure if he’d been exposed when the building blew, if he’d been accidentally exposed or purposefully infected.  

You were explaining that the virus had been in his system for at least four days when he died, and had they’d not killed him, he would have died within 24-hours. He’d been infectious for seventy-two hours.

“Well, it’s a good thing they decided to torch the place. We didn’t find any survivors after that.” Natasha drawled.

“It’s still hard to believe they just kill them all.” A strong voice came down the hall.  

“That’s the way those assholes work, you know that. No loose ends.”

Your head snapped around. You knew that voice. Two extraordinarily handsome men came in. One you recognized immediately as Steve Rogers. The other, he had the voice of liquid sex. Nearly the same height as Captain America, strong – damn look at those thighs – and dark haired, your mouth fell open at the sight of him. His blue eyes locked on yours and he stood a little straighter.

No one missed the exchange, looking back and forth between the two of you.

“Bucky?” You breathed.

A sly smile grew on his face, and you felt yourself flush. “Hey, Doll.”

“Okay, how do you know the good Doctor and I don’t?” Stark scoffed.  

“Not your business.” Bucky leveled a solemn stare at Tony.

“Yeah, well.” Bruce interjected. “Doctor Y/N has uncovered the source of the pathogen and we’re working on antidote if it becomes necessary.”

“I thought you said that could take days.” Steve asked Banner.

“She’s good.” He shrugged.

“And I still don’t know why she’d not working for me!” Tony threw his hands in the air.

“I’ve told you before. You’ve yet to make an offer." You threw back at Stark, but your eyes still had not left Bucky. Your brain spun. Thankfully common decency kept your feet planted in place, because every cell in your body wanted to touch him, to smell and taste his skin.

“I may have to change that.” He grumbled.

“You know where my office is.” You finally looked back at the group. “It’s been a long day. I think you’ve got what you need for now. Is there any objection if I call it night?”

“I may have to contact you about the final reports, but that can wait.” Bruce nodded.

“I may have to contact you about what sort of furniture you want in your office.” Tony smirked. Then he waved his hand towards the door. “Go on, get going. We’ll be in touch.”

“I’ll walk you out.” Bucky stated immediately.

You both walked to the elevator side by side, not speaking. You stopped at the doors, facing each other. He hit the button, giving you a shy – oh my god – smile.  

“So.” You sighed, “an Avenger, huh?”

“Of sorts. Steve brought me in a while back.”

“Ah,” You took his metal hand in yours. All the pieces click in place in your mind. “I seem to remember seeing a briefing about that somewhere.”

You could see the concern in his eyes. You didn’t know much about him. You did know he was enhanced, by Hydra, with a derivative of the same serum used on the Captain. Other than the friendship between the two men, you didn’t know much else from his past.  

“Does that bother you?” He asked finally.

You smiled up at him. “Not in the least.”  

The elevator doors opened and you stepped inside. Even though the car was empty, you remained close enough to feel the heat rise off of him. “Smart, funny, and gorgeous.” Bucky moved a strand of your hair off your shoulder. “And you smell incredible.”

You placed your hands on his strong chest. He was magnetic, a forceful draw. His hand cupped your cheek, a simple gesture that felt so intimate in this small space. His other hand slapped the stop button, halting your progress. Everything stood still.  

“Hey.” He breathed, face close to yours.

“Hey, back.” You whispered.

Bucky’s mouth touched yours, soft full lips brushing lightly. When you smiled into the kiss, his tongue reached for permission but was met with your own. Flaring from sweet to fevered, he pulled you tight against him. Wet, hot, your mouths explored one another.  

He turned, pinning you against the wall, hands roaming over your body. You clung to him, fingers in his hair and relishing in the hard muscles pressed against you. When his mouth trailed down to your neck, you breathed out a heavy “Holy shit, it’s good to meet you.”

He laughed against your skin. “Pleasures all mine.”

You took his face in your hands and kissed him again before sighing. “This elevator is probably monitored, huh?”

“Definitely.” He stepped back a bit, allowing you to stand fully on your own feet. “And I’ve been dying to ask you out. Dinner?”

“How about pizza?” You gave him a devilish grin. “We could order in.”

“Anything you want, Doll. Pizza in sounds perfect.”

Bucky released the elevator but hit a different floor than the lobby. The doors quickly opened to an obvious residential floor. You laughed, “Damn, that’s convenient.”  

He took your hand and led you down the hall. “I aim to please.”

“I have no doubt.”

You glanced sideways at his sparkling blue eyes, utterly taken by the intensity as he stared at you. The smell of him drew you closer. He smiled as you leaned into him.  

Damn he was glad he answered that unknown number.