#ill be on the floor processing my emotions for the rest of the year thanks

[tortibomb]

The Heart Killers | Fadel & Style

Nothing stings like betrayal from the one who witnessed your vulnerability and promised to protect it.

[orchidyoonkook]

Under The Willow Tree | MYG

Title: Under The Willow Tree   

Pairing: Bad Boy!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (T) | One Shot, Small Town AU, S2F2L, Implied Age Gap, Slow Burn, Angst, Touch of Fluff, Darker Subject Matter, First Kiss, Silce of Life

Summary: The town outcast shows up in the one place you find solace from it’s residents. The people you force yourself to fit in with, even though you never want to be anything like them. Will he ruin your only place of salvation, or become the most unlikely friend?

Warnings: PG16, some not necessarily positive non-specific religious discussions, people using religion in a negative may, plot twisty, cursing, kissing, semi-apparent abandonment issues, discussions of dead parents and guardians, mentions of alcoholism in a parent, mentions of illness in a parent, yoongi has tattoos and a motorcycle, motorcycle lessons, longing, mishandled emotions, catharsis.

Word Count: 7401

Release Date: April 10, 2023, 4:05PM

A/N 1: This happened due to a writing prompts post I shared sometime in late march. I’m quite proud of it considering I hadn’t planned anything so the entire story was written as I was writing. Very different than my normal writing process. 

A/N 2: Thank you endlessly to @borahae-k​, @katykatmeow​, @here4btsfics​ and @phthartic-fox​​ for beta’ing this. I love you all for your help, support and kindness. 

It happened under a willow tree. A weeping willow.

Your favourite willow, to be specific. Even though there’s just the one.

It’s by the pond deep in the woods behind your house, where you watch ducks swim through the long, wispy branches that just reach its shore. Where you sit at the base, waiting for the sun to set the sky ablaze with colour as it falls into the horizon for another good night's sleep.

The one under which you had your first kiss.

You’d been waiting. Wanting it to be special, with the right person.

But a brief brush of soft, pink lips with the last person you ever expected had you wanting more, more, more.

It’d been a few months since he started coming to the willow. You’d assumed for the same reason you did.

To get away. From anyone and everything.

There aren’t many places in your hometown that allow for privacy, and you imagined he needed it more than anyone. Somewhere far from the residents' judgmental stares that were always nothing less than smothering.

Hailing from a very small, very rural, religious town where everybody’s known everyone for generations, your community is one where you follow in the footsteps of your parents and grandparents before them.

Where your life is already decided for you at birth, whether you know it or not.

Copy. Paste.

Copy.

Paste.

You’re born there; either at home with a midwife or in the one floor hospital down the main road. Raised there; a hand-me-down wearing, bike riding, creek-playing child.

You go to school there; stuck inside the same four walls from the ages of 4 to 18. Get your driver's licence there; from the sheriff after a road test that a 9 year old could pass.

You graduate there; from the same high school your friends, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents went to. Get a job; in town or on a farm, the only two options there are. 

And marry there; before 25, lest you become a spinster, subject to the gossip vultures also known as your neighbours. Then have some kids before growing old and dying, your permanent resting place dug in the same graveyard as everyone else that came before you.

Copy. 

Paste.

It’s a suffocating fate that petrified you to your core. And you’ve known you didn’t want it for as long as you can remember.

You never liked their rules. Didn’t want to become one of them, to do as they do, live the way they live.

You’d skillfully escaped making any true friends as you grew older, but kept the people you could tolerate close enough to not be bored on weekends. They’re all temporary placeholders in your life anyway, people who sound like robots stuck in the same settings. People who would hold you back.

What’s worst of all is that you don’t share the religion they claim to be so hallowed and wonderful. The one that’s unwittingly forced them all into this life of monotonous repetition.

You dream of more. Of life outside this dreaded purgatory.

Of leaving.

But no one ever leaves. They’re stuck here, in this downwards spiral of life you’re so desperately trying to dig yourself out of. It makes you feel like a fraud, constantly pretending to be one of them. Always wearing a mask just to make it to the next day alive, unharmed by them and their values.

It makes you feel like there’s always a pair of eyes watching, waiting for you to mess up and reveal your blasphemous self.

You’re terrified they’ll discover the truth. Terrified of the ostracisation that will come the second they know you aren’t one of them.

You’ve seen it in real time. What they do to people who don’t conform.

Seen how they treat him.

Two years older. Bleach blond hair and a sleeve full of tattoos. A leather jacket he wears like armour with all black clothes to match. And last, but certainly not least, a motorcycle.

You daydreamed about that bike. Taking it and riding far, far away.

The busybodied people of your town never had a kind word to be said about him. Instead, choosing to call him any and every horrible name under the sun.

Beast, bastard, demon, monster, criminal.

Unable to understand him, understand anyone different.

They herd their children away from him in the streets; parting like the Red Sea when he walks by.

As if he were acid.

As if he was evil itself, and not just a young man.

You’ve never even heard him speak because no one dares to talk to him, worried any contact could turn them, seduce them into whatever his sick ways were.  

And you’re ashamed to admit you’re one of them…sort of.

You aren’t worried about speaking to him, you’re worried about what being seen speaking with him will do to you.

You’re someone whose only salvation from complete and total social isolation relies on fitting in.

And even if it kills you to pretend, you only need to do it for a little while longer.

You just had to make it to college. You’d be the first one in decades to go. Their mindset of ‘you have everything you need here so why bother leaving’  having not once in your life resonated.

You can deal with them and all of their beliefs about what you should do with your life for the short hours of school and occasional shifts at the diner, so long as you can escape to your willow tree, you’ll be okay.

The weeping willow in the middle of the forest behind your house is the only one in the area. You never understood why that is, but it’s your oasis away from everything you hate.

The tips of its branches sway rhythmically in the wind, and moss creeps up its trunk. It’s surrounded by dense, plush grass for you to sit on, and after all the years of sitting in the same spot, a little groove in the shape of your body has formed at its base. 

Its canopy protects you from the outside world, creating a space where you don't have to hide. Where you can proudly be yourself without fear. Where you spend as much of your time as you possibly can to keep your sanity intact.

No one bothers you here.

Your mum died years ago from an illness they never diagnosed, her plot in the town’s graveyard long since filled.

And your dad never notices you gone, too drunk in your house up on the hill to care.

So as long as there’s a constant supply of food on the counter and beer in the fridge, you’re free to do as you please.

Under the willow you do your homework and sketch. You take pictures and eat breakfasts and lunches and dinners. You listen to music and dance under the safety of its shade.

Under the willow you read great adventure novels, and dream you’re the protagonists whisked away on grand adventures. Anywhere but here.

Under the willow is your home away from home. Next to the pond, under the stars.

So it’s to your great surprise when an unexpected guest pries open the curtain of flowing foliage one spring afternoon. A bleached blond, leather jacket wearing, motorcycle riding, guest.

You don’t see him at first, too focused on the sketchpad in front of you. He steps in, and watches you work quietly, waiting for you to notice him.

You fascinate him. Every other girl in town can be found at one of three places, yet you were never at any of them. Not at the restaurant sipping on a milkshake. Not at the library studying. And not at the church volunteering. 

You’re always elsewhere. 

And he’s finally figured out where that is. 

He was nervous at first. To follow you. You’d never spoken but that wasn’t anything new to him. No one in this town ever did. 

Not to him.

But you don’t look down at him like the others do. Or jump out of the way when he walks by. You don’t tear away from his gaze as fast as the others. You hold on, even if for just a second longer. 

Unknowingly, you’ve captivated him more than anyone else he’s ever met.

So he followed you to see where you vanish off to, not expecting you to go into the forest behind your house. 

For a half second he considered you dangerous, because what on earth could you be getting up to in a forest for hours? But as he trailed the sounds of your footsteps and saw the small clearing with the tree, it began to make sense.

After jumping ten feet from seeing something tall and dark in your periphery, you exhale a large breath when you realise you aren’t in any danger, and shake out the nerves. 

You’d normally worry he was there to hurt you, but something in you knew he never would. Never could. Maybe it was the look he gave as he regarded you. 

Soft. Wistful even.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, wary. The first words you’ve ever spoken to him.

Barely contained inside the limits of the willows perimeter, he shrugs, and takes a long look around your little sanctuary.

And as he does, you get your first real look at him.

He’s handsome. Stoically so. And for only a moment do you wonder about all the stories hidden behind his eyes.  

The ones now focused on you.

“Wanted to see where you disappear to. You’re never in town.”

So what if you were never in town? Why did he care? Wait—How did he know? Does he pay attention to you?

…Why you?

You didn’t think he cared to notice anyone in this town, let alone you enough to know you don’t follow the social expectations of someone your age.

To pick up on the fact that you’re never there at all.

It makes a million things run through your mind—Why does he care about where you go? What about you is so special? Does he even know your name?—before one resounding thought hits you like a ton of bricks.

Can you trust him?

No one else in this town does, but all of their reasons are superficial bullshit.

All you know is you don’t know the first thing about him, and that now he knows about the one place you feel safe.

“That’s intentional,” you say, cautious. Not giving away anything but not saying much either.

“Can’t blame you,” he responds, before checking out the rooftop of bright green and muttering, “Eyes and ears everywhere.”

Those four words alone are all you need. 

He gets it.

“Yeah.”

Maybe you can trust him.

Observing each other for a silent minute, there seems to be an unspoken understanding forming between the two of you.

And he shoves his hands in his pockets, asking, “Mind company?”

You think about it for only a second.

No. No you didn’t.

“As long as you’re quiet. I’m trying to focus,” pointing the eraser end of your pencil to the sketchpad on your lap. “The cattail leaves are the hardest to get the lines right.”

He nods, finally breaking free of his position at the branch's edge. Nearing the base of the tree, he crouches down, about a quarter of the trunk's diameter away from you. It’s close enough to still see each other, but far enough to not bump into one another.

And before nestling in fully, he extends a tattooed hand to you.

“Yoongi.”

An introduction.

“Y/N,” you return, putting your pencil down in the crease of your pad and shaking.

His hand is calloused, the ones you get from years of working with your hands. And strong, a firm grip. The kind you’d want to pull you up if you were dangling over a cliff. 

So many stories contained in a 3 second touch. Yet you find yourself wanting to know all of them.

Releasing, he settles in.

What surprises you most about the whole encounter isn’t his arrival, or speaking to him for the first time, or even the handshake.

It’s that when he’s comfortable, with one leg up for an elbow to rest upon, he digs a book out from the confines of his jacket.

Jules Verne, The Mysterious Island.

Your favourite.

Spring fades into a wonderful summer of late nights and early mornings. Of beautiful blue skies and vivid sunsets you appreciate a little more now that you have someone to share them with.

Yoongi comes almost, if not, every day to the willow. Always a different book in hand. Always one of the classics.

The Iliad, 1984, Jane Eyre, Moby Dick, Anna Karina, Dracula, Little Women, Frankenstein, Catcher in the Rye, and those are just the ones you can remember because you’ve read them too. Some of them more than once.

You never expected to have anything in common with the boy that sits next to you. But from the little you’ve spoken to one another over the months, you’ve found that you share so much more than just reading habits.

On a warm April afternoon he told you he reads because he loves it but also to escape the daily hell that is your town.

    “Mmm, what’s your favourite?” you’d asked.

    Yoongi was lying down with an arm behind his head, staring into the treetop. Brave New World sat opened and facedown on his chest, his hand resting atop it.

    “Pride and Prejudice.”

    That was the last answer you expected.

    “Why?”

    He lifts his head to look at you.

    “I thought the answer would’ve been obvious.”

After a cold drink on a hot June morning he told you his dreams of moving across the country. As far away as he could get.

    “Just have to save up enough money first.”

    You wondered how he made any. He definitely didn’t work anywhere in town…maybe waiting to inherit?

    Who knew?

    Both on a blanket you’d brought, Yoongi’s lying opposite and beside you, his feet by your hips. He used his balled up jacket as a pillow while you sat in your usual spot, capturing the way the branches swayed in your sketchpad.

    He’d taken to reading to you while you drew, including you in the grand stories he now knew you loved to read too.

    That day he had The Great Gatsby, a story you’d read about 20 times.

    You often dreamed of attending one of his parties. Of seeing the green light across the way, or having a conversation with Nick, why he stayed.

    “Are you anywhere close?” you asked, in reference to his saving goals.           

    “Getting there,” was all he gave.

And on a miserable, rainy night in the middle of August, is when you learned he’s all on his own.

    Sitting beside each other, you both huddled underneath his jacket for what little protection from the rain it could give. Water droplets fell from the tips of his bangs as he spoke.

    “My parents died in a car crash when I was 9, and then my grandma who took care of me, when I was 15.”

    You grieved for him as he told you his story.

    How he had to raise himself.

    Just like you did.

    “I’m sorry,” you’d replied gently. Softly. Knowing how it felt to have no one support you. No one to help you.

    Knowing how it felt to be alone.

    You understood.

    You did, you did, you did.

    Yoongi just stared at the ground, unable to meet your eyes. And you’d wondered if any of the water on his face was salty as he breathed out a quiet and heartbreaking, “Thank you.”  

    It made you question how many kind words he’d heard since his family passed.

    And also incredibly pissed off at the people in your town for how they’d treated him.

    How you’d…treated him.

    A silent promise was made then and there. Never having felt more embarrassed and furious with yourself than in that moment. You’d learned your lesson, and hoped that offering up your own piece of vulnerability might help him feel not so alone.

    Though you watched the rain turn the pond into a canvas of vibration as you did. Words dragged from the deepest parts of your soul, burning the back of your throat as they left.

    “My dad hasn’t been sober a day since my mom died. His eyes are turning yellow,” you said, hugging yourself to stop shaking, convinced yourself it was because of the cold.

    Even though it was August.

    “He doesn’t recognize me most of the time.”

    You closed your eyes, a familiar tang washing over your tongue as you licked the water dripping from your lips.     He gave no response, but an arm found its way over your shoulders and squeezed.

    He understood.

It’s the beginning of September. The air’s started to nip at your cheeks, and the ground crunches a little more everyday with all of the leaves falling underfoot.

The tips of the willows leaves have begun to turn the colour of the morning sun, and by the time mid October rolls around, it’ll look like golden hour every hour of the day.

Yoongi finally tells you about the job he has at a mechanic's in the next town over. He explains how they don’t pay him nearly what they should, but he doesn’t complain because every cent brings him closer to leaving.

Just him and his bike.

You turn sheepish.

“Can I tell you something?”

He sits closer after all this time, more comfortable around one another. Still not enough to touch, not crossing that invisible boundary line, but enough that you don’t have to turn your head much anymore to see his eyes.

Brown and endless.

“Yeah, sure.”

You take a deep breath.

“I kind of always dreamed of taking your bike to get away from here and never come back.” He gives you a look and you shrug. “Seemed the easiest route to take.”

A smile that starts as a smirk turns into a healthy laugh.

“What’s so funny?” You demand. He has to calm himself down a bit before answering.

“You just uhm…don’t seem the criminal type to me, Cattails.”

There’s a flutter of something in your chest at the stupid nickname. For the drawing you did the day you met.

He continues, unaware of the goings on inside you. “Stealing? You? Nah. Not a chance.”

You open your mouth in mock outrage, scrunching your brow and bringing a hand to your chest.

“I’ll have you know I’d make an excellent criminal,” you lie to his face. He knows it too. 

But giving in, you detail the plan you’d always kept in your head for emergencies, heat slowly rising in your cheeks with every word.

“I’d take the key from you when you weren’t looking, duplicate it at the hardware store, and slip it back into your pocket before you ever noticed it was gone. Then go to your place in the middle of the night and be halfway across the country before morning.”

“Oh yeah?” he says with a raised brow you don’t trust.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a little too much faux confidence.

“And where do I keep my key, Y/N? Hmm?”

“Your jacket pocket,” you’d deduced long ago.

“Mmm,” he tsks with a shake of his head. “Nope.”

Oh. Well then it must be,

“Your pants pocket?”  

“Nuh uh, try again.”

Damnit!

You’d never thought much about it. How many places can someone keep a key on them without a bag and it not be in their pockets?

“Ummm, in your wallet?” Far-fetched but worth a shot.

“Ooo,” he blows through pursed lips before smirking at you again, but this one was different. It caused something very deep inside of you to turn to lava. “Good guess, but also no.”

Closing his book and setting it down, Yoongi straightens and reaches inside the collar of his shirt, retrieving a necklace you didn’t know he wore.

It’s small, the key, and almost silver. The colouring is tarnished from years of use, with worn teeth and some lettering at its base.

He holds it against a palm to show you.

“Why there?” You ask, wondering if there’s a reason aside from convenience.

With a sad tug of his lips, he answers. “Bike was my dads. I like to keep him close.”

A tender smile meets your own plush as you stare at the little key, appreciating it more after learning the importance it has to him.

And Yoongi watches you, viewing his ticket to freedom with the biggest eyes he’s ever seen, full of that same compassion and understanding you’ve always given him.

An understanding he didn’t think he’d ever see again from this place.

One he doesn’t know if he deserves.

Before you can respond, he’s taking the chain off and sliding it over your head, hand lingering for a second longer than necessary at your nape.

“Yoongi,” you hesitate.

It’s the first time you’ve said his name out loud.

You like the way it feels on your tongue. Warm, sweet. Like honey.

What you don’t know is he loves the way it sounds coming from you.

You falter. “W-what are you doing?”

“What’s it look like I’m doing?”

“But it’s your key! Don’t you need it?”

“Nah, got a spare in the storage compartment of the bike,” he says, gesturing to the one you now hold in your palms. “This way you won’t have to go through the hassle of stealing it.”

“But I—”

“Keep it,” he cuts you off. “In case you need it more than I do.”

It never leaves your neck.

“You want me to what?” You ask as you walk towards the forest edge, Yoongi trailing on your left.

“Take her out for a spin. See if you even can. You’re the one who has all these grand plans but doesn’t even know how to turn it on,” he explains, referring to his motorcycle.

“Those were just daydreamed plans! I never thought I’d actually use them! What if I crash?”

He was kidding right? He must be.

For all the time you two have spent together, you’ve never spoken or been around one another in public. An unspoken agreement.

What happens under the willow tree, stays under the willow tree.

So to be out in the open? On his bike? You don’t know if you can. Or if you should.

But then you remember a promise you made not long ago.

“You won’t crash,” he says, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

“How do you know? Like you said, I don’t even know how to turn it on,” you hmph.

“Because I’ll be there.”

And maybe it’s the tone of voice he uses, or the fact that you trust him, you find yourself saying,

“Okay, fine.”

Minutes later you’re swinging a leg over the bike, and sinking on to the surprisingly comfortable seat.

“Where do I put the key?” You ask, taking it from your neck and handing it over.

Yoongi puts it in the side of the motorcycle, somewhere close to your knee.

“Here,” he shows as he turns it to the ‘ON’ position.

“Oh.”

What a weird place for an ignition. 

“Mhm,” he acknowledges, then points. “Put your hand on the brake, it’s the part that sticks out on the right hand side. Hold it firmly against the handlebar. Don’t roll the handle bar itself back though, okay? That’s the throttle.”

Doing what he says, you hold the brake tight against the handle bar, murmuring an ‘okay’ under your breath.

“Now hit that button there on the right to let the fuel pump start up,” referring to the button beside the brake near your thumb. You do so.

He checks a little gauge on the side near the ignition. Seemingly pleased, he continues. “And now hit the button on the left to start it.”

Following his words once again, the engine roars to life the second the button is pressed, purring powerfully.

You feel exhilarated and a little terrified. But he’s here. You know you’re safe.

Voice a little louder to combat the noise from the motor, he says, “Okay, now on the left handle bar, grab the clutch. I’ll show you how to move into first gear, and look at me,” your eyes meet his, “do not let go of the clutch.”

You nod, but for extra precaution, he clamps his hand over the one you have holding it. You watch as he bends to put your left foot on a pedal and presses it down till you hear a pop, pushing up the kickstand when he rises.

The bike is heavy, now that you’re the only thing keeping it up right, you can feel its weight. And you understand why they’re designed to be able to have your feet on the ground even when sitting. You’d probably fall over otherwise.

“If you’re uncomfortable you let me know, yeah? And if you get scared just do what you’re doing now with this hand,” he squeezes for emphasis, “it’ll take all the power away from the engine and you’ll just coast until you stop, okay?”

“Okay!” You say, more excited by the minute. Your toes and fingertips are starting to tingle.

“I‘m gonna let go and you’re going to very, very slowly let up on the clutch—not all the way. Just enough that you move at about a pedal bike's pace. Let me jog down the road about 50 feet or so, and then you meet me there. Hold tight to the clutch again when you’re about 20 feet from me and I’ll catch you. Sound good?”

Nodding one more time in confirmation, nerves crawl all over your skin. You can’t describe the new feeling fully, but the closest you can find to it is probably the beginnings of an adrenaline rush.

You watch as Yoongi jogs down the road, throws his hands up over his head, and gives you two big thumbs up.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly release some pressure off the clutch and begin to move forwards. You know your feet are supposed to go on the metal foot rests below you, but you're so focused on not falling or crashing that you just stick them out so they don’t touch the ground.

Halting your left hands release at the speed he said to, you cruise along, wind picking up with your increased pace.

Holy shit!

You’re riding a motorcycle! 

You never thought you could, it was just a dream for so long. Something you kept in the back of your mind just for fun, but now you’re actually doing it! Your driving down the road on an actual real life motorcycle!? All by yourself!?

Turns out all you needed was a little encouragement and someone you trust to spot you.

Aiming for Yoongi, you clamp down on the clutch once again, cutting power to the engine. You drift right into his awaiting hands braced for the impact, and he slides a little on the gravel road before getting you to a full stop.

He presses one of the buttons you did earlier and the bike shuts down, allowing you to jump off.

You’re positively giddy.

“Oh my god did you see me?! I just did that! I just drove a motorcycle! Can you believe it?! I can’t believe I just did that!” You don’t even register what you're saying, too full of excitement to care.

Yoongi can’t contain his grin as he gets the bike standing on its own. Your joy is too infectious not to take part in, and he walks over for a high five to celebrate. 

But to his surprise, you bypass his hand completely and embrace him, throwing your arms around his neck.

It takes only a second before he’s enveloping you with his own, not letting the chance to hold you go by.

“Thank you!” You say, before letting go, not even realising what you did. You’re too busy catching your breath from all the rambling and jumping around, still filled with the remnants of your elation.  

Meanwhile, Yoongi can’t get the feeling of your body against him out of his head. How soft you were. How warm. The way you smelled like a mixture of your natural scent and outside.

And he’s asking, “You wanna to go for a ride?” before he can tell himself not too.

The question makes you pause. Was he serious? Because you can’t think of anything you want more.

Staring at him, your answer is far too gentle for someone who was just screeching with joy. 

“Really?”

He nods, still untrusting of his mouth, confirming with a ‘mhm.’

You don’t hesitate. You want to feel like that again.  

Not a minute later he’s giving you the helmet and securing it tightly. He also makes you wear his leather jacket to protect your torso, leaving him in just an oversized black t-shirt and dark ripped jeans.

Swinging a leg over, he pats the seat behind him.

And you’re glad to have the helmet on because without it he would most definitely see your inability to meet his eye. You can barely focus on anything aside from the sight in front of you and being wrapped in the scent of him. But then he gives a tattooed hand to help you hop on, and says,

“You have to put your arms around me and hold on. Otherwise you might fly off the back when we accelerate,” holding his hands behind him to guide yours. 

What? You didn’t think this far. He—you have t—Ummm, well... 

“Okay,” you answer, voice small, letting your hands be guided. 

Despite the loss of his jacket, he’s still deliciously warm, and the heat in your cheeks increases tenfold with your hands now splayed over his abdomen. 

Lightly defined muscles meet your fingertips through the thin material of his shirt and you do your best to memorize them as he turns on the bike and pulls away from the curb.

He starts slower than normal to make sure you’re alright, but when you give him the thumbs up, he speeds up to just over the limit and you hold tight.

You’ve never felt so free, loving the rush of wind that flows over your body from going so fast. It’s pushing a welcomed cold through the fabric of your clothes as your body temperature has only increased since getting on.

You could go anywhere, do anything. Nothing and nobody could stop you.

You want that. You want it so bad. And he gave you the key to be able to. 

Literally.

But now when you think about leaving, you think about leaving with him. Yoongi driving and you sitting right here on the back, nothing but each other, the road, and hope for the future.

Growing confident enough to release your grasp after a few minutes, you raise your hands in the air, and let the wind catch your fingertips.  A whoop of joy leaves you at this newfound feeling he’s given you. 

Then another, and another, before returning them to their place around him.

Yoongi can’t help but smile the biggest he has in years when hearing your squeals of glee.

Because for the first time in a long time, he feels it too.

Yoongi doesn’t come to the willow for almost a week.

He’s never done that since he started coming. Not once.

And you’re worried.

Where is he? Is he okay? You have no idea.

It’s not like you can go looking for him.

And you two aren’t anything anyway, so you shouldn’t even be this worried in the first place. If he’s safe, or in the bottom of a ditch somewhere.

But you can’t help it.

Just like you can’t help the feelings that have blossomed for him over the months. The feelings you didn’t want to admit to yourself for fear of him not returning them.

Yet there they were, and there isn’t anything you can do about them now.

They make you wonder if you’ll ever see him again.

Six days.

It takes him six days to return. Stomping in, and visibly pissed off.

“What’s wrong?” You ask once he’s close enough to hear.

“I’m leaving,” he says flatly, uncaring. Like you asked him what colour the sky was.  

And your stupid, silly little unrequited heart shatters.

“What?”

“I’m leaving. Taking off. Getting out of here. I can’t do it anymore.”

Piece by piece it falls from your chest and into the depths of your stomach.

“B-but why? What happened?”

“I got fired.”

“Fired?”

“Yeah, fired. I tried all week to fix this one stupid mistake I made,” he explains, smoothing over his creased brow with two fingers. “But it cost more to fix than to keep me around, so they fired me. I don’t have the amount of cash I planned for, but I have enough to make it work. And I can pick up odd jobs on the road if I need to.” He nears, extending a tattooed hand. “I just came to get my key and say goodbye.”

Your hand reaches for it, clutching it tightly. You don’t want to give it back.

Who the hell is this? Because you barely recognize him. It certainly isn’t the Yoongi you’ve come to know.

The wonderfully kind, classics reading, dream-sharing, motorcycle instructing, freedom key giving man.

The one who told you about his grandmother, and his parents. Who read you stories while you drew and ate meals together. Who taught you how to ride his motorcycle.

The Yoongi you fell for.

Your Yoongi.

The person currently standing in front of you isn’t him at all.

He’s the hard, cold exterior, crafted over years of verbal and societal abuse. The one everyone avoids at all costs when walking through town. The person he had to become in order to survive.

You don’t know this person.

And you hate it.

You hate it so much it decides to exit your body in the form of tears. Ones of sadness, frustration, and heartbreak.

He’s—he’s leaving. 

Actually leaving.

This place, it’s people.

You...

The few remaining pieces of your heart plunge to the floor, crumbling to dust as they hit. Nothing but a hollow, empty cavern remaining where it once sat.

“But I–you…,” the lump in your throat only getting bigger when you try to speak. You face away from him.

Don’t let him see you cry.

He’s clearly never felt anything close to what you do for him, so suck it up. Reign it in. You do it everyday. So why can’t you do it now?

You don’t get to feel this way!

Shove it back down, get it down!. Crush it all until it’s nothing.

Make it go away. Far, far away. 

Yoongi’s face is falling while you’re taking deep breaths to calm down.

In all of his rage and despair at his terrible week, he’s forgotten who he was speaking to.

His kind hearted, music-sharing, been through hell and back, kickass girl. The one he can call his only true friend.

He’s such an asshole. He hadn’t seen you for almost a week, which killed him in of itself. And then the second he does, all he‘s able to do is spew the frustration and misery he’s been feeling the entire time you were apart.

Nah, he’s worse than an asshole.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ha—”

But he freezes at the sound of a small, wet inhale.

You’re crying.

He made you cry.

And a regret bigger than the ocean drowns him.

“Hey, wait, please,” he says, rushing over, but you hold out a hand to stop him. “Please, don’t cry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

He reaches for you again, and again you stop him. You can’t let him comfort you.

Not when he doesn’t realise he’s become the only person in this whole godforsaken, judgemental hellhole of a neighbourhood wasteland you have.

Your grandparents are dead, along with your mum. Your dad’s an abusive drunk, too far gone to remember he has a daughter. You don’t have any aunts or uncles or cousins to rely on, nor do you have any real friends.

You have no one, aside from Yoongi.

And now you won’t even have him.

So you can’t let him comfort you. Can’t let him see you break.

You can’t, you can’t, you can’t.

Because you don’t know if you’ll be able to put yourself back together without him if you do.

But a quiet, “Y/N, please,” imbued with pain you haven’t heard since a rainy August night leaves his lips. A last ditch effort to get you to look at him, to let him help. 

And it breaks you completely, bursting into a million tiny pieces to match your heart on the floor.

An unrestrained sob falls from your mouth, and he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. Yours go to his neck as he drags you onto his lap, gripping tight. 

He holds you through every whimper and hiccup and stuttered inhale and shudder. Through every muttered ‘please don’t go’ and ‘please don’t leave me,’ that escapes, stroking a hand along the back of your head and down your spine, soothing.

He whispers, “it’s okay. I’m right here. It’s okay,” on repeat with the motion. Over and over and over until only occasional sniffles and deep breaths remain.

You hug him tighter as you start to shiver, the warmth created from your breakdown beginning to wear off. Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to slide off his jacket and throw it over your shoulders. An instant cocoon of warm and comfort.

When his hands find their place back around your waist, he dares to speak.

“I got you.”

“I know.” And you do. Your voice is a little wobbly, as you’re unmoving from the embrace, but you most definitely do. 

This is your Yoongi. The one you’ve come to know. To trust. 

Of course he’s got you. 

You use one of your long sleeves to dry your eyes and under your nose. With the nearing autumn weather, you’ve returned to occasionally wearing them.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe into his neck after a long beat of silence.

“What could you possibly be sorry for, Cattails?”

The return of your nickname has a grin threatening to emerge.

“For freaking out. I didn’t know that was going to happen.”

“Don’t be,” he says firmly. “I sprung that on you in such a shit way because I was in an even shittier mood. And you clearly weren’t prepared to hear it. I should’ve known better, so don’t you dare be sorry about anything,” he loosens his hold to pull back and look at you. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

You look down, hiding, not wanting him to see you like this.  

“None of that,” he whispers, and brings a finger to your chin, tilting up.

It doesn’t meet much resistance.

Your eyes are still a bit swollen and patchy, but it’s the concern in his that makes you crack the smallest of smiles, if only to see his worry erased.

He already has enough on his plate. No need to add to it.

Not able to offer much more than a quirk of the lip, you’re relieved that it’s enough when he starts to wear one of his own.

It’s then you realise your position. Like the sight of it cleared your brain fog.         

You’re kneeling over his lap, sitting on his thighs, face inches from his. One of his hands is holding your chin up while the other rests low on your waist, your own still loose around him.

So close, yet so far away.

Because he’s leaving.

And that thought alone allows you to throw caution to the goddamn window. It’s not going to matter once he’s gone, and you’ve wanted it to be with someone special.

He’s as special as they come.

Leaning forward, you close your eyes and the gap between the two of you.  

Eyelids fluttering as your lips brush his. Soft, and gentle.

Like him.

You hold only long enough to make sure it counts before pulling back.

It’s funny, really.

It was just a few seconds, but you already find yourself wanting so much more with him. An unfamiliar but welcomed electric pulse finds itself running through your blood at the thought, and it makes you want his lips everywhere. 

Your mouth, your jaw, your neck.

Anywhere he can reach.  

Sparks pool inside you. Sparks and butterflies and fast flowing lava.

You let yourself relish in the glorious feeling for a single moment, before the reality of what you just did sinks in.

And then you’re scared.

Terrified, actually.

To open your eyes, see his face. His reaction.

What if he hated it? What if he’s never felt anything but platonic affection towards you and now you’ve gone and done this?

Sure, he’s leaving. But now that you think about it, does him leaving mean you’ll never see him again?

What if you just ruined everything?

Teeth sinking into the plush of your bottom lip, you take a peek.

For the second time today you feel your heart breaking, this time at the look on his face.

Is it shock? Or worse.  

Disgust?

Doesn’t matter.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt. Not knowing what else to say.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, trying to get out of his hold, but he keeps you there. Unyielding. And you start rambling. “I shouldn’t have done that. You clearly don’t—It’s just that you’re leaving and I—“

Lips on yours shut you up.

It’s fervent and needy and passionate as he pulls you closer by the hips, desperately trying to get you as close to him as physically possible. Your nails drag over his scalp as your fingers snake through his blond locks. They elicit a delicious groan from his mouth that you consume with your own.

It’s the most intoxicating sound you’ve ever heard, and you want more of it. So you do it again, and again, and again.

He moves down your jaw and neck, sucking at the tender flesh near your pulse point, and your mouth drops open at the feeling.

You’ve always wondered, but…you didn’t know it could feel like this.

Every touch, every whisper, every press of his lips to yours feels amazing. He’s pulling pleasure out of places you wouldn’t have thought possible before him. And you never want to go back to not knowing.

The sweetest of whimpers leaves your mouth as he gently bites a soft spot, then soothing the glorious pain he created with the kindness of his tongue.  

Yoongi swears to any god who will listen that he’ll do whatever they want so long as he gets to hear that sound repeatedly and for the rest of his life.

He returns to your lips and says, “come with me.”

You’re so focused on feeling that it takes a moment for his words to land. “What?”

“Leave with me. Let’s get the fuck outta here, and never look back, the both of us. Together.”

Yoongi looks so serious but..

He—he can’t be serious can he? 15 minutes ago he was going on and on about leaving and needing his key back and saying goodbye.

And now?

Sensing your hesitance, he punctuates each of the next three words with a kiss. 

“Come. With. Me.”

It makes your answer arrive without really thinking. You don’t need to think. Not when you know deep in your newly reconstructed heart that it’ll always be the same whether you think about it or not.

So long as you’re with him, you know you’ll be,

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” He questions like he can’t believe it. Can’t believe you'd agree.

You make sure there isn’t a single doubt in his head as you look him dead in the eyes and confirm.

“Yes, Yoongi,” another kiss. “I’ll go with you.”

He pulls you into him for what feels like a million more under your shared willow tree.

Your salvation.

And you know they’re going to be the firsts of many, many more to come.  

Three days later, and two bags packed full of all your earthly possessions, you’re on the back of Yoongi’s motorcycle.

In those three days he’s prepared everything else you’ll need. He’s gotten a cute leather jacket and helmet for you, some reading materials for the road, snacks, drinks. A place by his side for the foreseeable future.

In the same span of time, you’ve given him a home in your heart, someone he can rely on other than himself. Talk to, trust, experience life with.

Something he hasn’t had in nearly ten years. 

Something he never wants to lose again.

He swings a leg over and you unclip the chain from your neck, handing him the key to the bike, to your now shared future.

Driving out of town—straight down Main Street—you watch as all the people you grew up with, who you almost destroyed yourself to fit in with, gawk.

Watch as they judge you for being with him, your best friend. For leaving, and not doing what they all expected of you.

For not being like one of them.

Because you’re not one of them. 

You never have been.

And just like the dust that flies behind the wheels, you feel weightless, not giving a single fuck what they think for the first time in your life.

You don’t have to anymore.

You’re free.

A/N 3: Thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

[poptod]

Cyber Security (Elliot Alderson)

Description: An online ad leads him to you, though in reality he has little interest in your ad. What interests him is how you accidentally doxxed yourself and how oblivious you are to that fact.

Notes: idrk what to say about this one its one of those things that i wrote at midnight after almost falling asleep to a fantasy and then realizing it could work as a fic. like i did this same thing with ‘close your eyes’ that one was also a before-bed-to-get-to-sleep fantasy. this is also not a particularly romantic interaction, though it can be read as such WC: 2.2k

+

Sweat drenched his sheets, bathing him in the cold wind that breezed past his only air conditioner lodged in a nearby window. He stared blankly upwards, half shivering and half overheated, as he once again found himself in a familiar predicament—the practice of sleep.

It was no secret he had trouble calming himself down, and that aspect of himself reached into the evening, as well. He already downed three melatonin pills hours earlier, along with smoking a joint that should’ve put him to bed. Unsurprisingly, that did not work.

“Xanax,” he mumbled to himself, hearing it bounce back from empty walls. “Need to get xanax.”

In the meantime he raised himself to his feet, padding across freezing floors to his computer. With a click of a button the white screen buzzed to life, shining bright onto his sleep-heavy eyes, that did their best to acclimatize to the sudden change.

Hypnotization—strange as it might’ve been—had worked a couple times before. Not all the time, but decently enough to give it a try. He had work in the morning and he didn’t need to be more miserable than usual, especially since he hadn’t slept almost the entire weekend.

sleep hypnosis

The blinker flickered for a moment before his fourth finger slammed down on enter, the last step in calculated movements. What popped up first was a video titled [ SLEEP HYPNOSIS ] 8 Hour Loop with a screencap of a spinning black and white screen. Below that, however, was something he hadn’t seen before—a YouTube video titled exactly what he’d typed, lacking the caps just as he had. The title screen appeared to be some sort of poorly-drawn painting.

Curiosity overcame his hazy, aching head, and he clicked, finding a playlist of videos containing what could be the titles of songs, along with several different poorly-drawn title screens.

The first video began to play before he could realize it. What he first noticed was it was bereft of ads—that meant the publisher made no money off the album.

Sat in the presence of God

whose name means filthy old fraud

Captions had been manually added by, he assumed, you. The author. There were three views on the video, no comments, and no likes, leaving few other options.

Maybe it was the melody—maybe the lyrics, who talked of a world plagued by aristocrats. But he found his eyelids heavy, dropping dark eyelashes in his vision that blurred the screen. By the third song, reciting verses of an Islamic poem, he was slouched in his seat.

He slid down to the floor, crawling his way back to flop onto his bed. The music continued to play till the first ad popped up, at which time he opened his eyes, seeing a music video from Katy Perry, at which time he promptly reached over and unplugged his computer. He wasn’t sure which cord he pulled out, but the screen still went black. With that, he just barely sneaked into his covers, dozing until the morning.

It was far too easy to get information on you. Your full name was stated clearly in your youtube bio, alongside several different social media tags leading to instagram, tumblr, and facebook.

Facebook alone provided him the means to your address, and he didn’t even have to go looking for it. Your most recent post was an ad, searching for someone good with computers to aid you in your recording process, which you noted as ‘dismal’.

Are you fucking kidding me? He thought to himself, reading the ad once more.

Your address, your real, physical address was stated as the place you wanted to meet those interested in helping you. On the internet. You had doxxed yourself after less than a year of being online.

Okay, he thought, clicking on your listed email. Someone needs to be taught a lesson.

Three days later—after about two weeks of listening to your echoing voice every night—you replied, sending a cheerful email detailing when you would be available to meet him. After shooting a short message back, the date was organized.

Two more days and he was standing at your doorstep, his neck craned upwards as he scanned your tall, narrow home squished between two other apartments. He just barely knocked before the black door swung open, revealing a familiar face belonging to a stranger. Elliot was dressed in his black hoodie and jeans, a stark difference to your long, colorful robes, coming out of a sort of fantasy world.

“Hi,” he said, his voice grating with how low and quiet he kept it.

“Hello,” you said with a smile that did not match his hunched posture. “Are you Mr. Alderson?”

“Elliot,” he corrected, his chin just barely raising to meet you. “Elliot Alderson. Elliot works.”

“Alright,” you said, nodding. “Come inside? I was just making tea. Do you like tea? Or do you prefer coffee?”

“I... I’m fine, thanks,” he said softly, scooting past you when you opened the door wide enough for him to enter. He sucked in a breath as his chest brushed yours.

Your home was modern—far fancier than Elliot’s own apartment, with large windows flanked by soft grey curtains. A small, upright piano was in the corner of the living room, set upon a reed mat lined with Korean symbols. The couch was clinical, made of a sort of black plastic leather that matched the grey skies beyond the window panes.

He sat down, shifting his feet closer together as his fingers dug into his palms, continuing to scan the room in its’ entirety until you returned with your own tea.

“What kind of experience do you have? School counts,” you said, setting your cup down on a tiny plate whose decorations matched your teacup.

“I’ve been... experimenting, with computers, since I was around 9,” he said, mumbling the words out as his shoulders hunched awkwardly down. “Have a job at a cyber security firm. Started a while back.”

“You still have that job?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small nod. “Jus’ thought this would be... fun.”

The dead look on his face indicated no humor whatsoever, but you took his word as it was.

“How’d you find the ad I put out?”

“I... I listened to your music,” he answered honestly for once. “Helps me fall asleep.”

“Oh,” you said, clearly taken aback. Your face grew warm as you glanced away with wide eyes. “I’m glad I could help.”

“You’re not very good with technology, though,” he said in his usual low, grating voice.

“Not really,” you chuckled sheepishly. “That’s why I put out the ad -“

“No, not that,” he interrupted you. “You put your physical address on the internet. You doxxed yourself. Do you even know how dangerous that is?”

The lyrics of your songs pointed towards a kind of brilliance, balanced against emotions felt thoroughly on pages and screens. It didn’t match your actions at all.

“What’s doxxing?” You asked.

Elliot had to physically stop himself from sighing and leaving.

“You want everyone to know where you, a minor celebrity, live?”

“I’d hardly call myself a -“

“I could’ve been a murderer,” he said, reaching into his bag.

He looked you in the eye as he pulled out a gun, clicking on the safety before he pointed it at you.

“This is how easy it would be to kill you.”

As expected, you stiffened at the sight of the iron barrel, your fingers withdrawing to your chest. Your lips pursed as you met his gaze once more.

“Please put the gun down,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

He did as you said, resting the gun on the table.

“That’s a hell of a way to start an interview, Mr. Alderson,” you said quietly. “Please get out of my house.”

His heart sank. What had he expected? For you to fall to your knees and sing to him as he desired you to do? He threatened you with a gun to teach you a lesson, and you reacted accordingly. Calmer than others would.

Elliot stood on shaky legs, sliding the pistol into his backpack before he zipped it up. Throwing the pack over his shoulder, he swallowed through a tight throat, shuffling as he delayed his departure.

“Keep safe from people like me,” he said in a strained mumble. “Take that ad down. Meet people from the internet only in inhabited, public areas.”

You tapped your fingernails on the table for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip. Suddenly you stood, tugging on his sweatshirt sleeve to get him to face you, instead of staring at his feet.

“Alright. If you’re really so good at the internet -“

He ignored your incorrect grammar.

“- and... if you actually do want to help me with my songs,” your tone softened, “then you’ll be able to find my real name, not my stage name. If you do.. I’ll hire you.”

“Alright,” he said monotone, knowing the battle was already won.

Even though he knew your name already, he turned away and left to his apartment, immediately going to work on figuring out everything he could about you. If you willingly still offered him the job after that, he knew it would take a lot to scare you off. He could impress you.

It was, after all, the only thing he was good at.

Two days later he showed up at your apartment again, quietly thanking you when you let him in. The clean floors and walls remained unchanged since his last visit, and you led him to the same table, sitting him down on the same seat.

“Your name is (Y/N) (L/N),” he started with. You already appeared to be surprise. “You grew up near LA and you’ve had a chronic illness all your life. At eleven you saw your first therapist.. that must’ve been when you first got diagnosed with depression... and anxiety.”

“Killer duo,” you muttered.

“Your parents split when you were thirteen, which came at the same time as your dog, Penelope, died. Or... sometime that year. When was that... 1997?”

“1999,” you said quietly.

“Your mom homeschooled you,” he continued. “That’s probably why you don’t know how computers work. Rather eclectic, in a.. boring way... an ex-Amish, right?”

You nodded and his heartbeat tripled. Everything was right thus far despite a two year difference in his guesstimate of your life’s timeline.

“Then there was your dad... logger in the Redwood forests. Burly guy. Not a great man, from what I saw,” he said.

“He was fine,” you said with a small shrug as you looked away. “Didn’t ever hurt me, or anything.”

“Abuse isn’t always physical,” he said faster than he could think, dizzied by his own memories playing behind his eyes.

“I know,” you murmured.

You went silent, so he continued, hoping to pry more precious words from you.

“Your favorite color is yellow,” he said, leaning closer to you. “On Valentine’s you get chocolate strawberries, and on easter you get kinder eggs.”

Nothing.

“You studied mythology as a kid, and you made paintings of the forest you lived in with your mom. Santa Cruz mountains, I think.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I miss the forests.”

“I know. You want to visit Ireland again because it’s a land of faeries and moss, it’s a breeding ground for your song lyrics.”

“How did you find all this out?” You finally asked.

“You use the same password on everything,” he said, though that was far from the actual answer. “Your web browser tracks all your movements and you don’t try to stop it, or hide ads, or stay away from sketchy websites. Your parents aren’t much better, either.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you brought your hand to massage your brow.

“You’re way too smart to be helping me,” you said with soft laughter, blushing with your smile.

“It’s better than working for E Corp,” he said, huffing out a laugh that was hardly humored.

“E corp?”

“My.. uh, place of work,” he brushed off his slip. “My point is... I’d rather work with you and do easy work than work with my current fucking coworkers.”

You laughed, truly and fully this time, curling into a little ball that shook with the force of it. Your feet tucked into your tiny chair, making you even smaller.

“Bad people or just annoying?”

“Stupid,” he chuckled. “Don’t let me wear my sweatshirt.”

“Ooh, now it’s my turn,” you suddenly interrupted him, earning a strange look. “I’ve noticed things about you, too. I couldn’t learn anything off the computer, but you, you have anxiety too. Probably some childhood trauma.. maybe a dissociative disorder of sorts or a form of PTSD. Your jacket is like your home, and... you have sensory issues. Few types of fabric, don’t like to be touched, if I had to guess I’d say you might be autistic.”

“Blunt,” he said after a full minute’s silence.

“Do you mind?” You asked.

“No, not really.”

“Good. Then you’re hired,” you said with a smile, extending your hand for him to shake. “If you still want the job, of course.”

He watched you with evident apprehension, but took your hand after much thought, shaking with a firm grip.

“When do I start?”

[storiesforallfandoms]

actually excited ~ corpse husband

word count: 784

request?: no

description: after years of christmas being his least favorite holiday, corpse admits that having her in his life made him excited for the holidays for the first time 

pairing: corpse x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist

Christmas music filled the usually silent apartment, accompanied by (Y/N)’s voice singing along. When Corpse exited his recording room, he was met with what he could only describe as Christmas having thrown up over his apartment.

(Y/N) was in the process of putting up the Christmas tree as Corpse walked into the living room. She looked up at him and smiled.

“Hey! How was filming?” she asked.

“Long,” Corpse responded. “But I’ve recorded and edited enough stream highlights to last over Christmas.”

(Y/N) stood to wrap her arms around him. Corpse smiled and hugged her back. With her head nuzzled into his chest, she asked, “Want to help decorate the tree?”

Corpse chuckled and gave her a slight squeeze. She really knew how to get him to say yes.

He sat down on the floor next to her and watched as (Y/N) took ornaments out of the box and sorted them on the floor in front of them. She hummed along to the music as she began placing ornaments on the tree.

Corpse smiled absentmindedly as he watched her. (Y/N) brought a sort of light to the apartment when Corpse needed it most. As corny as it was to say, in the past year that they had been together, (Y/N) had made Corpse the happiest he had been in a long time. It was noticeable by everyone, especially his friends. When streaming together, they would often point out how much happier he sounded, or how he seemed like he was coming out of his shell more with everyone, and he knew that was all thanks to (Y/N).

As she turned back for another ornament, (Y/N)’s gaze met Corpse’s and she smiled back at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Corpse responded, passing her the ornament. “I’m just looking at you.”

“And smiling,” she pointed out.

“Am I not allowed to smile?”

“Of course you’re allowed to smile. In fact, I’d rather if you smiled. I love your smile.” She sat down on the floor in front of him again. “You just looked like you were thinking, too.”

“I was,” Corpse admitted. “I was thinking about you.”

“Sappy.”

Corpse chuckled and pulled (Y/N) into his arms. Although catching her off guard, (Y/N) giggled and settled comfortably into his arms.

“It is sappy,” he said. “But our relationship is just walking sappy-ness at this point.”

(Y/N) rested her head in the crook of Corpse’s neck. “What were you thinking about specifically? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind,” Corpse responded. “I was thinking...I was thinking about how I’ve never really liked Christmas.”

(Y/N) pulled away slightly to give Corpse a shocked look. “You don’t like Christmas?!”

“Let me finish!” he said, pulling her back to him. “No, I’ve never really been one for Christmas. Not since I’ve moved out on my own, anyways. It’s just...Christmas was never good for me. The more I was diagnosed with other illnesses, the more it seemed like Christmas became about making sure I could afford treatments and medication. I just started associating Christmas with being sick, not having money, putting on fake smiles even though my family was struggling to make ends meet.”

(Y/N) turned in his arms to look at him while he spoke. She was listening to intently, taking his hands in hers and running her thumbs along his knuckles, absentmindedly.

“I’ve never really had someone to celebrate Christmas like this with, either,” he continued. “My last girlfriend, we weren’t together for Christmas. We broke up just before Christmas, actually, which gave Christmas another negative connotation in my mind. Then I met you, and you’re so bright and bubbly in every way possible. You make me so happy, you light me up in my darkest times. You’ve made me genuinely excited for Christmas for the first time in a very long time.”

Tears were welling up in (Y/N)’s eyes as she quickly lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Corpse’s neck. He chuckled as he hugged her back, giving her another soft squeeze.

“You deserve endless happiness,” (Y/N) told him, her words slightly muffled in his shoulder.

“You give me that happiness,” he responded. “I’m so lucky to have you in my life, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) pulled away and kissed him. “You’re stuck with me, baby.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

After another quick squeeze, (Y/N) stood again, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Okay, enough of the emotional stuff. Grab an ornament, put it somewhere.”

Corpse chuckled and did as (Y/N) said, standing to join her by the tree and continuing to decorate.

[heyitsmerose]

Ateez Reaction to their s/o having pmdd (Maknae Line)

PMDD - (Premenstrual dysphoric disorder) Is a menstrual disorder that many women have that causes extremely painful period cramps, nauseousness, sever mood swings and is overall quite frustrating to deal with. I am writing this imagine from my experience of pmdd, however remember everyone’s body is different, and in no way do I want to generalise any illness. Okay thank you, happy reading! :)

Word Count: 2.5k

Mature Language*

Smut content

San: 

It was a normal day at the dorm, and you and San hadn’t seen each other in a while. Deciding to pay him a visit, you made your way to their dorm to surprise him. You packed some dinner and made your way to the dorm. Upon reaching, you were greeted by Seonghwa and Hongjoong, who were also at the dorm at the time, the rest had gone out, either to practice, or just to do something else. You entered San’s room and sat on his bed waiting for him. He was in the washroom taking a bath, and so you just simply waited for a bit. 

About 10 minutes later, San emerged from the washroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Once he saw you asleep on the bed, he chuckled and got changed as quietly as possible, trying not to wake you up. After he was done, he decided to sit next to you wake you up gently.

“Babe, it’s me, wake up now please, I wanna see youu” He whined. You readjusted in the bed and got up feeling a little dazed.

You got up and just observed him. The way he was smiling so lovingly at you, the way he had both arms under you, holding the small of your back, lifting you up, his sweet yet husky scent, the way his wet hair was pushed back, the way the thin black fabric of his full sleeved button up allowed you to see all his defined muscles, and you couldn’t help but think about how perfect he was. Still in a daze, you just whispered a hello, and being the affectionate person San was, he immediately took you in his lap and sat you down facing him. He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear and you hugged him tighter. You hid your face in his chest as you tried to work out and process these weird emotions. You felt bubbly and weird, with a lump forming in your throat. 

“Hey, look at me hun!” He teased, laughing and giggling, while lifting your chin up. He pressed a kiss to your nose and that sent you off the edge. Soon, warm tears started pouring out your eyes and you couldn’t form any words. 

“Y/N, Y/N, Babe, are you alright, did I hurt you?” He panicked taking your face in both of his hands. You couldn’t get any words out and simply sobbed. You didn’t know what you were feeling and why you were feeling these feelings and tried to stop, but to no avail.

“I-, I-,” You tried getting out, but unable to take in enough air, you weren’t able to speak. 

“Hey, hey, hey, Y/N, take it easy, breath in and breath out, I’m sorry if I did something to upset you.” He pouted and looked at you.

“No!” You suddenly interrupted taking him by surprise 

“I just love you so much, and I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’m an emotional mess, why are you so perfecttt” You rambled, whining your words at the end, and crying again. By this point you had gotten the attention of Hongjoong and Seonghwa too, and they were watching the both of you secretly through the doorway.

“Wait, what?” San asked a little confused.

“I said you’re so perfect, you’re just so fucking amazing and you make me feel these emotions that I’ve never felt before, I just feel so lucky and happy that you’re mine, it’s overwhelming.” You said finally, getting that off your chest. 

“Well, I love you too Y/N, and I bet I love you more” he said with his eyes full of tears too. It was overwhelming to him too, how much you loved and valued him.

“Yah, San-ah I’m on my period I’m allowed to act all sappy and moody, you’re nott” You both chuckled and laughed at each other.

“Well, what can I do, I just love you so much” he replied and you wiped his tears. You heard whistles from the doorway and knew it was Hongjoong and Seonghwa. 

You stayed as close to each other as possible for the rest of the evening, not even leaving one another to go anywhere.

Mingi: 

You were on your period and Mingi was well aware of it. A few days before your period you always felt a little needy, and by now Mingi was used to your mood swings and weird behaviour. What he didn’t anticipate however, was you having pmdd. Neither did you. He’s had girlfriends before, and although he didn’t mean to compare, he noticed your symptoms were a little more extreme compared to everyone else. In fact, he was the one that suggested you go to the doctor, and thus here you were.

You had come to the OB/GYN with your boyfriend Mingi, since he was concerned for you. You always went through this, and been doing so for the past 10 years, so you didn’t think much of it. However when Mingi once came across you throwing up and crying in pain, he knew something was wrong. He found that you had been hiding your symptoms to not bother him. As you had expected, the second he found out, he freaked out and booked an appointment with the doctor. At the moment, you were answering a few questions about your symptoms and were surprised to find that every single symptom matched yours. You just assumed that everyone went through this every month, apparently not. You were starting to get worried. What if you weren’t normal, what if there was actually something really wrong with you. You interlaced your fingers with Mingi, and filled out the rest of the forms, describing your symptoms to the nurse. The nurse noted down your symptoms, sighed and left the room. You started biting your nails and bouncing your knee, your were getting nervous.

“Hey, Y/N” Mingi called to you lovingly “What’s wrong, you seem nervous”

“Mingi, what if it’s something serious, like what if I have cancer or something?” You suddenly blurted out. Mingi frowned and took both your hands in his.

“Hey, don’t say that, for all we know, it could be normal and you would just need a few meds, I promise It won’t be as bad as you think” He assured you, but inside he was just as nervous and scared, if not, maybe even a little more than you.

A few minutes later, the nurse arrived inside the room with your results printed on a piece of paper. She handed it to you, and you read through it while also trying to pay attention to what she was saying.

“Miss, Y/N, you most likely have, what’s known as Premenstrual dysphoric disorder. Its similar to PMS but is a little more severe. It won’t cause too much trouble to your life however we’d suggest taking birth control to help reduce the symptoms slightly” She suggested looking at the both of you. She proceeded to leave to room to give you both some space. You looked up at Mingi, and he smiled back down at you.

“See, it’s nothing too serious, besides, birth control gives us an excuse to have more sex” He laughed at you while you playfully shoved him.

You were thankful to have such a caring boyfriend like Mingi, who always looked out for you. For the months and years to come, he always made sure you took your medicines and eased the pain and helped in whatever way he could. 

Wooyoung:

You and Wooyoung were such a power couple. Both of you being complete crackheads, there was not one day that was boring in your relationship. You always knew how to match each others energy and took risks together. That’s what you loved about him, his ability to keep up with your crazy personality. In fact, it’s quite cheesy, but you truly completed each other, he knew you inside and out and you knew him completely too. 

You had come out to a restaurant to just spend some time with one another and were enjoying each other’s company. It was rare to have moments like these, where it was just the both of you, and you loved spending time with each other.

You were halfway through dinner, eating your appetisers, when all of a sudden, you felt a wet feeling down your leg. You cursed realising you could have potentially leaked out of your tampon, and excused yourself to go use the washroom. Once you left, you quickly wobbled to a stall and pulled your underwear down to check. As you predicted, you had in fact leaked, but it was worse than you thought. The bottom of your dress was completely stained red, and your underwear was completely soaked in blood. You tampon was lost somewhere in the red ocean of blood and you had no clue what to do. You realised you left your phone on the table, so you couldn’t do anything. You sat on the toilet, with nothing to do just contemplating what you should do next. 

Meanwhile, Wooyoung was just waiting for you on the table itself. After around 20 minutes passed, he started to get worried and checked his phone to see check if he got any messages from you. He then glanced to your side and noticed your phone still there on the table. Looking back at his phone he checked the time... and the date. Cursing to himself quietly, he realised that it was that time of the month, and knowing you had pmdd, he knew something must have probably happened. Without another thought, he ran to the washroom slamming the door open.

“Y/N? Babe? are you there?” You heard Wooyoungs voice call out. 

“Wooyoung? Thank god, I’m like stuck here and I don’t know what to do.” You said relieved that he finally noticed you were gone. 

“Okay, no one’s here in the washroom, I’m locking the washroom door, could you open your stall door?” You obliged and opened your stall door, greeting him with a bunch of blood on the floor and completely destroyed underwear. He snickered at your situation began removing him pants.

“Woo, what the fuck are you doing?” You asked him thinking he was going crazy.

“Calm down, just take my boxers and like wrap them in some tissue paper, it should work as a makeshift pad. Also I’ll give you my denim jacket, just tie it around your waist or something” He said removing his underwear. You quickly agreed and wore his underwear after stuffing it with tissue paper. He then gave you his jacket and you wrapped it around your waist. He pulled back up his pants, threw your underwear in the dustbin and cleaned up after you. You were in that point of your relationship where both of you were completely comfortable with eachother, so this was nothing major. Once he was done and walked in front of you, you took the opportunity to smack his ass. 

“Wow, maybe you should just not wear underwear” You laughed at him

“Very funny” He sarcastically responded back. 

Jonho:

You were at Jongho’s place and were just laying on his bed. You both had been dating for not too long, around 1 month at max, and you still always felt a little uncomfortable, or rather self conscious and insecure around him. Besides, he was everyones dream guy, with a voice sweeter than honey and not to mentioned those muscles, while you were just, you. You tried your best to always act as nice and proper as you could, and still hadn’t completely opened up to him yet. Jongho on the other hand, was falling for you, hard. He was absolutely smitten and no other person had ever made him feel this way. He loved when you visited as you got to spend time with each other.

You were just on your phone, while he was downstairs getting something to eat. You popped a breath mint in your mouth, and readjusted your position to get more comfortable. After laying there for a few minutes, Jongho came back with some strawberries and chocolate, the perfect, lowkey yet romantic food ever. You made sure to eat them slowly and properly, too scared you’d scare him away by scarfing them down. Jongho on the other had, had no problem eating them quickly. You just laughed at him and looked at him lovingly. He noticed you staring at him and a bright smile spread across his face. Wanting to get a little closer, he took the first step and decided to pull you closer to him by your waist. You jumped a little at the movement, but soon scooted towards him, and laid your head on his shoulder. Trying to ease the tension and make the situation a little less awkward, Jongho put his hand on the bed, around you. What he didn’t anticipate however was for there to be a wet spot, of blood. He quickly peeked behind you and saw a giant spot of blood, where you were sitting before. Not wanting to embarrass you, he calmly said...

“Hey, Y/N, you seem to have had a little accident, don’t worry, I’ll clean it up, I have a hoodie you can wear, and you can borrow my boxers too, if you’d like. I’ll just get some pads from the nearby pharmacy too, just a sec” He said smiling at you and getting up. However for you, this was your worst nightmare. 

“Wait what?” You looked to your side to see a giant red patch of blood on his light blue sheets. You gasped and to your horror, he had already gotten up pulling the bedsheets off. 

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry, I’ll deal with it, please come back in a few minutes or something, I don’t want you to see me like this, please” You begged him tears leaving your eyes from panic and embarrassment. He didn’t move however, continuing on with what he was doing.

“No, no, no, Jongho, please, this is so embarrassing, please, I’ll clean it up” You said, your voice cracking multiple times. Jongho immediately left what he was doing and walked to you holding your chin with his fingers.

“Hey, hey, hey Y/N, you have no reason to be embarrassed, this is natural and I love you, it’s alright.” He said, not realising the impact of his words

“You love me?” You asked clarifying, maybe your ears had deceived you.

“Um, well, yeah-” He said stuttering a blush growing on his cheeks. You took the opportunity and for the first time in your relationship, you kissed him softly and responded...

“I love you too”

[wicked-mind]

Soulmates: Chapter Six

Summary: Soulmates are connected on a deeper level emotionally and physically. They can feel what the other needs and wants. As hints, the universe grants tattoos on your skin to help you find your soulmate when you’re about to meet them. When Bucky’s soulmate tattoo appears out of the blue, he knows that she is about to come into his life, but the way she does is not what he was expecting.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Swearing, as usual. Drinking. Nightmares mention violence.

Note: Figured we needed a slightly fluffy chapter before we meet Gemini (;

Bold for Natasha. Italic and Underline for Y/N.

All Writings Masterlist

*gifs not mine

Previously

After Y/N and Bucky finished their shower together and got dressed, they walked out into the kitchen where Sam and Natasha were sitting. Sam had a scowl on his face towards Bucky, “Man, my room is right next to yours. And the shower echoes.” He hissed out.

Y/N laughs a little and rolls her eyes before Bucky could speak, “Hey, I was ready to go in the med-bay. At least we made it to the shower so everybody didn’t get a show.” She snapped back with a smile as Natasha started dying in laughter.

Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle, sneaking his arm around Y/N’s waist and pulling her closer as he kissed her temple softly. Now, Y/N was his and he wasn’t going to let her go. Their bodies were like one, each other could feel everything the other felt physically and mentally. Bucky got what he always wanted, a deeper connection with someone and nobody was more perfect for him than Y/N. For once he found himself thanking the world and all the things it had done to him just to lead him to Y/N.

Chapter six -

It had been weeks since Y/N had finally given into her soulmate bond with Bucky. There had been no new information on Gemini so they had just been enjoying their time together. They were inseparable. Bucky seemed to constantly be orbiting Y/N like he was her sun, which in a way she was. They would train together, eat together, even moved into one of the apartment suites instead of just Bucky’s bedroom due to Sam complaining about how noisy they were. Anytime Bucky wasn’t around her and he found her, he would push her up against a wall or a counter and kiss her like he hadn’t seen her in years.

Y/N released a part of Bucky that nobody had seen before, not even Steve. Sure, he had known Bucky to be a ladies man in the forties as well as a confident, cocky flirt. But it was like a switch had flipped in Bucky due to having Y/N as a soulmate. He was more social to the other team members, came around more which Steve appreciated. Though, there were other things that had Steve concerned. Y/N had brought out a wild side in Bucky. She had him wrapped around her finger and that concerned Steve. Natasha had spent so much time telling him that Y/N was not to be trusted, but that was before the two had made up and it still made Steve feel uneasy. The last thing he wanted to happen was for Bucky to somehow end up hurt or change who he was to match Y/N. He felt the need to talk to Y/N, try to figure out what was her plans. He hadn’t talked to her very much as she was always either sleeping during the day or keeping Bucky all to herself.

Steve managed to find her one night alone by some miracle. Bucky was usually always following her around so Steve would take this opportunity to talk to Y/N and feel out her intentions. She was sitting outside in a chair at one of the patio tables, her legs resting on the tabletop. Steve took a seat in the chair next to her, folding his arms across his chest.

Y/N looked over towards him, raising an eyebrow at his posture, “Can I help you?” She asks him. There was no rudeness in her voice but there also wasn’t anything positive hidden in her tone.

Steve sighs a little, “We haven’t really met or talked yet. I’m Steve Rogers.” He said told her, watching her carefully. He could see all the things Natasha had told him- Y/N did seem like she lacked emotions at times but it also seemed like she was constantly challenging those around her with the way she talked and looked at others.

“Oh I know, I’ve heard all about you. Mr. Captain America. Mr. Stars and Stripes. And also Bucky’s best friend.” Y/N said, her lips twitching into a small smile towards him, “So, what can I do for you, Cap?”

“I wanted to know more about you, Y/N.” Steve said honestly, “Nat said some things before you two made up. Bucky is my best friend and I want to know your intentions with him.”

Y/N swung her legs off the table and sat up straight in her chair, tapping her fingers against the arms of the chair gently, “Hasn’t anybody ever told you that a bitter woman can be a real bitch?” She asks with a tilt of her head, “I don’t have any intentions. We are enjoying each other.”

Steve nodded slowly at her words, watching her closely to try and tell if there was any hint of lying in her voice but he couldn’t detect any. Either she was a really good liar or she was telling him the truth, “Bucky’s waited his whole life for his soulmate. He’s gone through more trauma than anybody I know. If you’re planning on hurting him in anyway or just using him for fun or a means to an end with your brother, you should reconsider what you’re doing. You can destroy him, Y/N.”

Y/N rolled her shoulders at his words, her nose twitching slightly in anger, “You want to know a secret, Mr. Stars and Stripes?” She asks, watching as he nodded before continuing, “I’ve met him before. In 2014. I got a gold care to take out Alexander Pierce. I was outside of his house one night all set up ready to snipe him through the window. I watched him shoot his maid. And Bucky was there, sitting at the table. He looked right at me down the scope of my gun and the way he stared was like there were no emotions in his body. He came after me immediately, got really close to getting me too, but I was able to slip away. I was disguised with a mask so nobody could figure out who I was afterwards. I laid low for years, running in fear that the Winter Soldier was going to come after me and also because my buyers were pissed I wasn’t able to deal with Pierce.”

Steve furrowed his brow at her words, confused, “If you were that close to him, why didn’t either of you get your soulmate tattoos until recently?” He asks.

“Because he wasn’t Bucky Barnes. He was the Winter Soldier.” Y/N replied, licking her lips before continuing, “You see, Steve, I could be set on revenge for having to be on the run for a few years because of him. And I am really good at revenge. I know I could ruin him, destroy him as you say. But that is not what I want to do. He is himself again, no longer the man that looked at me with cold, dead eyes. I like him this way and he is my soulmate. If I had any ill will or intentions, he would sense it in an instant.” She stood up, looking down at Steve as he stayed seated, “But if you ever question my intentions with my soulmate again, you and I are going to have a big problem and I have a feeling that’d piss Bucky off more than anything I could do to him.”

As if on queue, Bucky came out of the sliding door to look between Y/N and Steve who seemed to be staring each other down. His brow pulled together in confusion and concern, walking over and placing a hand on Y/N’s waist, “What’s going on? Everything okay?” He asks, looking to Y/N then to Steve. He could feel the anger Y/N felt at this moment directed at Steve and wanted to know why she would be feeling that anger.

Y/N kept her eyes on Steve, “Don’t worry about it, Bucky. We were just having a chat. Just remember what I said about a bitter woman, Steve.” She said before tearing her eyes away from Steve’s and heading back inside to go up to their apartment suite.

Bucky frowned watching her go before looking to Steve, “What happened? Why’s she so mad?” He asks as he sits in the chair Y/N did before.

Steve sighs, running his hand through his blonde hair, “I wanted to figure out more about her. What Natasha said about her concerned me. I’m worried of her intentions with you, Buck.” He said honestly. He never lied to Bucky or kept anything from him. They were best friends after all.

Bucky shook his head at Steve, “I trust her, Steve. I can feel everything she does and I know I can trust her.” He said before letting out a sigh, “You don’t have to trust Y/N. But I do and I know you trust me.”

“Did she tell you that she has met you before?” Steve asks curiously, wondering how much Y/N had told Bucky.

Bucky looked at Steve confused, “That’s impossible. I would’ve remembered her and my tattoo didn’t show up until a few days before I met her.”

Steve looked at Bucky, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his lap, “She says it’s because you weren’t you. It was in 2014, she wore a mask so nobody could identify her. She had a kill order for Pierce.”

Bucky sat back in his chair, processing the information silently. He had managed to piece things together things he had done as the Winter Soldier and he could remember the night he went to Pierce’s house. He had asked if he wanted any milk and it confused him at the time because he was made for orders, not questions. He remembered feeling someone watching him and then he saw the glimmer of a scope rested in the trees. He immediately went into action, chasing the unknown masked person down under Pierce’s orders to kill them but the mystery person had managed to slip away. Bucky gripped the arms of the chair tightly, flinching at the thought of what could’ve happened if she hadn’t been able to get away from him. He would’ve killed her without a second thought and he would’ve never found his soulmate. Silently, Bucky stood up and walked back into the facility. He made his way to the elevator and clicked the top floor where the apartment suites were. When Bucky made it back to their shared room, he found Y/N leaning against the counter of the kitchen, drinking a bottle of beer. He walks over to her immediately, taking the glass out of her hand and placing it on the counter behind her before trapping her, placing his hands on the edge of the counter on either side of her, “Why didn’t you tell me you knew me?” He asks, harsher than he intended for it to sound.

Y/N tilts her head at his question, staring into his eyes. She licks her top lip slowly, his breath hitting her face made her shiver, “Because you weren’t you, Bucky. You were the Winter Soldier. And even though my tattoo has all the markings of your past as the Winter Soldier, he isn’t my soulmate. You are.”

Bucky’s eyes flickered over her face at her words, feeling as though his heart slightly dropped at her words. She didn’t hold anything against him from when he was sent to kill her because it wasn’t him. It made him feel relief, as if the universe was telling him that he wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore. Bucky leans his forehead onto her shoulder, moving his hands to her hips, “Thank you… for not holding it against me.”

Y/N brought one hand up to run through Bucky’s hair, a small smile coming onto her lips, “Like I said, he wasn’t you. Plus I managed to evade the Winter Soldier which I’m pretty proud of.” She says softly to him, “Now take me to bed, Bucky.”

Bucky didn’t need to be asked twice, he picked her up by her waist until her legs wrapped around his and carried her into their shared bedroom, laying her on the bed as he trailed kisses and his hands all over her body.

A scream awoke Y/N from her sleep. She looked around her room slowly, slipping out of her bed. She gripped onto her purple stuffed bunny, walking out of her room and tip-toeing to her parent’s room. She dropped her stuffed animal at the sight, running over and nudging her mother’s arm as if trying to wake her up but it was too late. Then she heard the screams that she knew was her little brother followed by her older sister. Y/N scrambled under the bed, pressing her hand to her mouth as to not make a sound. Tears rolled down her cheeks slowly as she heard whistling and footsteps approach her deceased parent’s room. Her eyes widened as she saw the door open, watching the black shoes cross the floor and around the bed behind her. Then she screamed as she felt hands wrapped around her ankles, pulling her out from under the bed.

“Hello, sister.” His smile was made of pure evil even for only being thirteen years old.

Y/N gazed up to him in complete fear before kicking his knee and scrambling to her feet, running for the stairs to get outside and away from her twin brother. He caught up to quickly though, tripping her down the stairs and watching her land below on her back with a groan. She opened her eyes to look up at him, “Please…”

Her brother smirked down at her, bending his kneels to squat next to her. He pulled out the hunting knife that had been stashed in a sheath connected to his belt, pointing it at her, “It’s nothing personal. It’s just when a family decides you’re nothing to them… Well there’s no point in a family.” He said with a shrug and a smirk before stabbing the knife into Y/N’s stomach making her scream, “Nothing personal though. You’ve always been my favorite but I’m just the twin nobody wanted.” He pulled out the knife, admiring the blood on it for a moment before walking out the front door, leaving it open.

Y/N watched her twin go and when he was out of sight, she pressed her hands to the stab wound on her hip with as much strength as she could manage. Her eyes focused on the window that showed the night sky.

“I’ll see you soon, sis.”

“Wake up, sweetheart, c’mon… Wake up!” Bucky said, laying next to Y/N. He had seen her nightmare in his own dreams and could feel an emotion he hadn’t felt from her before. It was the slightest ounce of fear. He sat up, placing his hands on both of her shoulders and pulling her up against his chest.

Y/N awoke at the movement of her body being pulled to sit against Bucky’s bare chest, looking at him for a moment, “I’m fine, I’m alright.” She said, pulling herself out of the bed and out of his arms. She ran a hand through her hair before pulling on one of Bucky’s t-shirts over her naked body, “I just need some water.” Y/N said looking over to him as he still sat in the bed with the blankets covering his lap. She turned and left the bedroom, walking to the kitchen and grabbing out a glass before filling it with some water and walking out onto the balcony to allow the fresh air and small breeze to calm her down.

Bucky watched her leave the room before letting out a deep breath. He had felt fear from her caused by the nightmare. He had never felt an ounce of fear in her before and it worried him that it seemed like she was closing off from him again because of it. He pulled the blankets off his body and stood up, pulling some new boxers onto his body. He walked out of the bedroom and to the balcony, placing a hand gently on her back, “Please don’t shut me out, Y/N.” He said gently.

Y/N looked over to Bucky, “I’m sorry. Force of habit.” She said and offered a small apologetic smile before leaning her elbows on the bars of the balcony and fixating on the view in front of her. The sun was threatening to peak into the sky, “Did you see it?”

“I did…” Bucky said softly, watching her face intently as he kept his hand on her back, stroking small circles with his finger tips, “I felt your fear. What scared you?”

Y/N let out a deep breath before bringing the glass of water to her lips and taking a small sip of it, “You saw what happened. It was exactly like that night. Except he never said that he’ll see me soon.” She looks over to stare into his eyes, “That was him. Now him. Telling me he’s coming for me.”

Bucky’s brow pulled together at her words. Must’ve been some sort of weird twin telepathy thing for Gemini to be able to get in her head like that, “You’re safe, doll. I won’t let anything happen to you. Your evil twin isn’t going to take you away from me, I just got you.” He said with a small smile, moving his hand on her back lower to her waist. He stepped up behind her, pressing his body against her’s and kissing down the side of her neck until he reached the hem of the shirt, “Now why don’t you go back to bed? I know you hate the sunrise and we didn’t get much sleep.” He said, grinning crookedly, “After I’m done training with Steve, I’ll come find you, alright?”

Y/N smiles at his touch, biting her lip softly and nodding, “Bed sounds nice.” She said, twisting herself in his grasp to face him and tilts her head, “One day maybe we will get on the same sleep schedules.” She chuckles out before placing her palm on his cheek and giving him a kiss then walking past him back to the bedroom. Y/N was still very much a night owl, sleeping late into the afternoon. Luckily, Bucky had figured out she hated the morning due to the fact that after her twin stabbed her, she had to watch the sunrise through the windows while she waited to be found and made sure to shut all the curtains so she didn’t get disturbed.

Y/N woke up sooner than she usually did but still in the afternoon. She showered and got dressed in some jean shorts with a black tank top and one of Bucky’s dark blue flannels. By the time she was done getting ready it was about four in the afternoon. She figured Bucky was off staying occupied while letting her sleep which she appreciated. A soft knock at the door interrupted her. She opened the door to the apartment suite to find Natasha standing there, “What’s up, Nat?”

Natasha smiled, “Bucky may have mentioned you had a rough time.” She said before holding up two bottles of alcohol, “Figured I’d come cheer you up.”

Y/N smiles and opens the door to let her in, “I feel like he knows me so well - sending my person up with alcohol. What do we have?” She asks, following Natasha to sit on the couch.

“We have vodka for me and tequila for you.” Natasha said, sitting next to Y/N and passing her the bottle of tequila, “I figured it was more of a tequila moment than a whiskey moment.”

“I may have a soulmate but you know me better than anyone.” Y/N said, looking at the bottle, “What did he say?”

Natasha sits back in the couch, looking at Y/N, “He said you had the nightmare about your brother. I didn’t know you still had those.”

Y/N looks over at Natasha while twisting the cap off of the tequila, “I don’t.” She told her, “This one was different. It’s like he was using evil twin telepathy or something. He told me he would see me soon.”

“Creepy.” Natasha replied, standing up and going to the kitchen to grab two glasses before returning to sit on the couch and filling up one glass with a shot of vodka, “You should be safe here. We deciphered the gold card you got from Blake, he was hired by Gemini which we already knew but it didn’t have any other information on where to find him.”

Y/N rolls her eyes in annoyance, “Of course it didn’t.” She muttered out, pouring some of the tequila into the glass, “He could be anywhere, waiting for his opportunity. I can’t just sit here locked in the tower like a damsel in distress.”

Natasha nods slowly, “I know. You’ve never been one to just hide, you’ve always faced your problems.” She said, then holds her glass up, “But right now, tonight, we are going to forget about all your problems with your evil twin and talk about other things.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, picking up her glass of tequila and clinking glasses with Natasha before taking a sip, “I see why you brought the tequila now.” She chuckles. Y/N may love whiskey, but tequila was her go to when she wanted to let go and feel happy.

After a few drinks, Y/N and Natasha were sitting on either side of the coffee table on the floor staring intently at each other, having some sort of competition about things that had happened in their lives.

“My soulmate went to space.”

Shot.

“My soulmate was sent to kill me.”

Shot.

“Your soulmate shot me and almost killed me.”

Shot.

“I have an evil twin that is set on kidnapping me after he attempted to murder me.”

Shot.

“I haven’t had sex in years.”

Shot.

“…. Yeah, okay, you win."

Just when Y/N opened her mouth to continue, they were interrupted by Bucky walking inside with eyes flickering between the two before landing on the bottle of tequila, “Oh no, not the tequila.” He groaned out. Y/N with whiskey was fine but Y/N with tequila was a whole different challenge all together.

Nat shrugs and stood up, “That’s my cue to leave.” She said, snatching the bottle of vodka and leaving the apartment suite promptly but not before saying over her shoulder, “Have fun with the tequila monster!”

Y/N looks up at Bucky and raises an eyebrow, “Tequila monster?” She questions, picking up the tequila and pouring herself another shot.

Bucky walks over and tries to grab the glass but Y/N held it away, “You get a little crazy with tequila.” He said, “And a third of the bottle is gone which means you’re going to be extra crazy.”

Y/N quickly drinks the shot of tequila and passed him the empty glass before standing up and grabbing the bottle of tequila by the neck of the bottle and running into the kitchen on the opposite side of the counter with a mischievous grin on her lips. She brings the open bottle of tequila up to her lips, watching Bucky who stood in the living room teasingly.

Bucky chuckles and shakes his head at her, “Don’t do it, doll.” He said, starting a slow pace towards her. Y/N loved to test Bucky when she drank tequila which is part of the reason the term ‘tequila monster’ came to light. When he saw her press the bottle to her lips and take a few swallows he quickened his pace over to her, “Oh, you’re in so much trouble now, sweetheart.”

Y/N watched him approach, moving around the opposite side of the kitchen island while teasingly taking a few small sips between laughs. Bucky was giving her that dark eyed look and she was thriving off of it.

Bucky caught her eventually, taking the bottle from her hands and placing it on the counter while his arm secured her to his body. He backed her up until her back hit the fridge, staring down at her with a cocky grin, “You are trouble.”

Y/N smiles up at him, jumping up into his arms with her legs wrapped around his waist, “I know. I’m the best kind of trouble though.” She purred out to him, her fingers stroking through his hair slowly.

Bucky kept that grin on his face, his hands immediately going to hold her up by her thighs when she jumped up onto him. Everything about her drove him wild. He never expected he would have to chase his drunk soulmate around their shared kitchen or that she would bring out a wild side in him, yet here he was with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his arms with her back against the fridge, “You’re the perfect kind of trouble, sweetheart.” He purred out to her before connecting his lips with her’s. He forced his tongue between her lips, groaning as it danced with hers. Bucky takes a step forward, pinning her body against the fridge more roughly so he could feel all of her body against his. He pulls away reluctantly when he heard her whimper, pressing his forehead to her’s, “I love you, Y/N.”

_____________________________________________________________

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[headoverheelsforramsey]

Your Love Is Killing Me (Part 1)

Pairing : Dr. Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Dr. Meera Bose)                                            Summary : A canon divergent take on the emotions Ethan and Meera face on returning from Miami, and what happens when Meera faints in the hospital atrium.                                    Category : Angst                                                          Warnings : A few swearings, PCOD and cardiovascular disease that comes with it, stress and anxiety                                                        Word Count : 1724

A/N : So this is my first fic,🙈 so please ignore some of the rookie mistakes, also please send in criticisms, I would love to improve. Got tired with clone Ethan and PB writers and the book 1 replay got to me so I thought torturing myself through angst will be a good idea. Happy Reading!  ❤

Meera shifts in her bed. Rolling over to face away from the window. It was another sleepless night for her. Where usually she used to be famished after coming home from work and all she desired for was her head to touch the pillow the last 5 days was completely different. These 5 nights she spent staring into the ceiling as a train of thoughts ran through her mind. Dr. Ramsey's words kept on ringing in her head "I need to be able to push you to your limits. To help you become the doctor you want to be. The one I know you can be." Lost in her reminiscence of that magical moment in the balcony of the Miami hotel, Meera didn't seem to notice the sky changing its colours from the dark starry blue to the first hues of gold, orange and red, signifying the beginning of a new day. She turned over thinking what went wrong, a calculation she was doing for the zillionth time and each time she came to a fruitless answer. Meera was interrupted by the sound of her alarm, one which was useless as she wasn't able to close her eyes for a single minute. 

She sat up in bed rubbing her eyes and catching a glimpse of herself on the full sized mirror. She was in her comfiest sweatpants, her uncombed curls sprawled over her shoulders and face. She removed her hair from her face and found tired eyes, deep dark circles and chapped lips staring at her from the mirror. She closed her eyes, hugged her knees close and rested her forehead on her knees as she thought about her plan for the day. For the past five days she had planned her days carefully so as to not run into the grumpy attending at any cost. She was on high alert. Any sign of him nearby and she always made an one eighty degree rotation in order to escape him. She went to meet the patient X to take his regular vitals and monitor required medicines on hours she was cent percent sure Dr. Ramsey was busy. She replied with lies and smiles to Dr. Banerji's unending question about the conference, Miami, Ethan and the sudden change in her behavior. Although she sometimes felt he could see right through her. 

Meera stood up from the bed and went into the shower. As soon as the cold water hit her skin she remembered how Ethan had abandoned her in the hotel in Miami. How she had been sitting there on the bed dressed in luxurious blue with her heart and bed cold as tears swelled up in her eyes. She remembered the awkward flight from Miami to Boston and the bare three sentences of exchange between her and Ethan. How she thought that the flight washroom was her safe haven and how she wished to spend the entire flight there. All these thoughts were such an emotional burden on her and she finally gave in to the inevitable. She double downed with sobs as she cried in the shower keeping as quiet as it was humanly possible for her so that her roommates won't get to know. After a few minutes she was finally able to compose herself. She stepped out of the shower a towel wrapped around her as she rubbed her hair dry. Meera got into a fresh pair of scrubs combed and tied her hair into a tight high ponytail. As she applied a generous amount of foundation to hide her dark circles and chapstick to moisturize her lips her phone beeped with a notification from her period tracker which notified that her period was 3 days late. She didn't think much about that as she had been dealing with PCOD since she was sixteen. She had almost defeated the disease with changes in her lifestyle and a few medicines, but after all there is no permanent cure. She had learned to live with it over the years. 

Finally she looked at herself in the mirror. She was now looking like Dr. Meera Bose the confident number one intern at Edenbrook Hospital. She forced on a smile to face her roommates outside her bedroom door and the world in general. This is what Meera's life looked like for the past five days. She was tired of putting on a happy show for the outside world and hence once she was inside her room with no one except herself her thoughts collided against each other and finally left her crying. She was tired of going through the same crescendo of thoughts and emotions again and again but there was no other way out because the only possible solution to end her pain, in Dr. Ramsey's words was "unethical and complicated."    

It was noon when Meera was already done with 6 cases. She also made it a point to check up on Dr. Banerji first thing in the morning when she was completely certain Ethan was in a board meeting. She was once again walking the crowded but motivated halls of Edenbrook navigating her way to her next patient's room. 

Meera felt a sudden piercing pain in the middle of her chest which slowly travelled to her left arm. It started as a mild one but quickly accelerated. From the corner of her eye she saw Ethan rounding a corner and walking towards her. It had been six days since both of them were in the same corridor. Before she was ready to process anything further she broke out into a sweat and started feeling tremendous trouble in breathing properly. All she remembers next is darkness and the sound of her charts slipping away from her hand and hitting the floor. In the last moments before her unconsciousness hit she felt someone holding her close and tight, the chaos of the hospital becoming silent to her as she tried with all her might to figure out if she had the opportunity to be in Ethan's arms once again like she was in Miami but she failed.  

 Ethan was very annoyed when he was held all morning in a stupid board meeting and wasn't able to finish any of his work. Ethan often doesn't listen to half of the things the board members say. He utilises those hours to mentally untangle the complications of the diagnostic team patient, something which he felt was much much more important than listening to entitled doctors who aren't even good as they think themselves to be. But today it was different. He was unable to concentrate at all. His mind wandered back to the one curly haired brunette intern. These past six days Ethan had immersed himself in work. Between the interns, the diagnostic team and Naveen's mystery illness his mind was pretty busy. He took on more cases than usual, pulled all nighters at the hospital and the little time he was at home he did find some article he needed to finish writing on his laptop. This was the only way he could keep her out of his head. Atleast this is what he believed, because work, patient care and her career was the only thing standing between him and her.

He was quickly making his way towards the diagnostic team office once he was finally freed from the conference room. He turned a corner and started walking through the corridors, pinching the bridge of his nose. That's when he heard a thud and saw a chaos forming around a patient who had just fainted, up ahead in the corridor. He picked up his pace ready to yell at the intern who was responsible for this. When he was merely steps away, he stopped in his track, completely recognizing that it wasn't a patient but an intern. The intern that topped the charts in the diagnostic team competition, the intern he was so keen on avoiding, and for the first time in years his doctor senses didn't kick in. He was looking at the intern, not as Dr. Ethan Ramsey but as just Ethan.

She was nestled in the strong arms of the Averio paramedic she was friends with. Ethan snapped out as the chaos became louder, a stretcher was brought and Meera was lifted into it. Surrounded by her intern friends and Dr. Delarosa, she was being rolled towards the ER. The immediate thing Ethan did was follow her, but that's when his pager beeped. It was a code blue from Baz. Ethan stopped once again evaluating his next step. He knew the diagnostic team was already understaffed and needed him, on the other hand Meera who- who- who was exactly what to Ethan he didn't know. Ethan did the same mistake he had done in Miami, he put his work, before her inspite of what his heart wanted.  

It took Ethan twenty minutes to handle the situation of the Diagnostic Team patient. After which he was on his way to the ER, determined to check up on Meera. He felt, him running after just an intern would stir up the hospital gossip. But did he care for it? He didn't, until he heard a few nurses huddled together talking in loud whispers. "I think she is pregnant, Mary told me she was feeling nauseous the other day." one of them said. "Are you serious?? Do you think it was Dr. Ramsey ?" another one asked. "I don't know, they spent two whole days alone in Miami, who knows what they were upto." the first one replied. "You know, I think you are right. Dr. Olsen told me that she wasn't even half smart and intelligent as he was and yet she is leading the competition. It's very clear Ramsey favours her." a third joined in. "Whatever it is, I don't know what he sees in her. I could be standing her naked waiting for him to fuck me, but he wouldn't budge." with this the group of nurses started giggling and moved towards the atrium their back towards Ethan. After this encounter he couldn't risk being found close to her. It's her career that was at stake. Something that he priced over his own feelings for her. Dejected, he made his way back towards his office, locking the door behind him and immersing himself in paperwork.

Thank you so much if you have read till here, it means the world to me. I will put up the second part as soon as possible, till then sending love and hugs your way! 💖

Tagging : @starrystarrytrouble @mm2305 @charisworld @choicesfanaf @potionsprefect @genevievemd

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Part 2 is up now! Read it here

[sgtjbbhasmyheart]

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Three

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1740

Warnings: Nosy (and well-meaning) friends acting like nosy siblings, angst, bad language words

A/N: After I originally posted this chapter on AO3, I got some comments that exacerbated the beginnings of a year long depression. Please be kind. I intended this chapter to come across as the gang being like siblings...always being in each other’s business. Is there a breach of privacy? Yes, but without the ill-intent. 

DO NOT copy or replicate without permission

Bucky clutched his phone in his flesh hand as he made his way down a long hallway to the communal kitchen and eating area. A soft, crooked smile rested at his lips as he entered the space. Natasha and Sam were sitting at opposite ends of the rectangular table separating the kitchen from the lounge, enjoying a late breakfast. Steve was at a kitchen counter fiddling with the Keurig machine. He pulled another mug from the cupboard when he saw Bucky approach. “Mornin’, Buck. Sleep well?”

Bucky’s grin broadened as he leaned his backside against the countertop. “I did, actually. Thanks for asking,” he answered, looking to his phone at the incoming text.

(Y/N) Would you rather have skin that changes color based on your emotions or tattoos appear all over your body, depicting what you did the day before?

He missed the way Sam and Nat looked at each other in suspicion at his answer to Steve. He was too busy pressing the keys on his touch-screen.

Bucky The tattoos would be awkward, speaking from a male’s perspective, so I think color changing would be better. Not by much, though.

Bucky Would you rather have edible spaghetti hair that regrows every night or sweat maple syrup?

Bucky saw Steve slide the new mug, now filled with coffee, across the granite-top toward him from the corner of his eye. He glanced up quickly from the screen and nodded. “Thanks, buddy.” Steve answered with a smile.

“What, no grunted thanks or mumbled acknowledgment?” Natasha quipped, standing from her seat to place her plate in the dishwasher.

“Yeah, man. You have been using way too many words lately. I miss the grumpy dude that would brood in the corner,” Sam added, crossing his arms at his chest. “Are we even sure this is the right Bucky?”

Bucky’s phone vibrated again.

(Y/N) I love me some spaghetti! Can you imagine sweating sticky, gooey maple syrup during a humid New York summer?? Your clothes would be toast.

(Y/N) Mmmm, french toast.

Bucky chuckled at the reply, drawing the attention of three sets of eyes.

Sam wasn’t wrong; he wasn’t the same Bucky.

It had been five days since (Y/N)’s first drunken texts. Five days. He couldn’t believe so little time had passed. Somehow, (Y/N) had wiggled her way under his skin.

He had noticed after only a day or two; he was smiling more, less volatile. He felt lighter, happier. He wasn’t skulking about the compound like usual, trying to avoid the rest of the team. Some might go as far as to say he was friendlier than usual.

It felt good to have someone, a friend, learning about the real James Buchanan Barnes, for once, without the threat of The Soldier clouding their perception of him.

“You’re freaking me out, man. Straight outta Invasion of the Body Snatchers or some shit,” Sam declared, rising from his chair.

“Hold on, Sam,” Steve placated, lifting a hand to the advancing man. “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation to Bucky’s good mood lately.”

Bucky set his jaw in frustration, the muscles ticking. He wasn’t a Pod Person. He was just happy, for the first time in seventy-five years.

His phone went off again.

(Y/N) Would you rather sneeze once every hour, on the hour, or burp every time you saw an attractive girl?

A wide smile split his mouth as he scanned the screen.

Bucky Am I sneezing in my sleep or just when I’m awake?

When Bucky brought his gaze back up to his teammates, he noticed Natasha’s own eyes flick down to his phone. The slightest smirk curved the corner of her lips.

“It’s curious,” she said, a perfect eyebrow inched higher to her hairline. “All the people you text are in this room, yet, you haven’t been able to pull yourself away from your phone.” Her eye contact never wavered from Bucky’s face. “Don’t ya think that’s odd, fellas?”

“Natalia,” Bucky warned, his voice gruff. He knew she was fishing.

Sam laughed boisterously. “Yeah, I noticed that the other day. It’s glued to your hip nowadays.”

“It could be anyone from the team, guys,” Steve reasoned. “I bet it’s Tony.”

Bucky became increasingly agitated as the redhead slinked closer, passing his phone back and forth between his hands.

Natasha shook her head in the negative. “Nuh-uh,” she said, leaning against the counter directly beside Bucky. A hair’s breadth of space separated their shoulders from one another. Tipping back, with her elbows propped against the hard surface, she kicked her legs out casually and crossed her feet at the ankle. “Those two have barely said two words to each other since the good Sergeant here was welcomed back into the fold. It’s not Tony.”

“That still doesn’t prove anything,” Steve replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

“I bet it’s a girl,” Sam said in a sing-song voice. “But, where would Ice Man here meet a girl?”

Natasha smiled while looking at Sam as he stepped closer to the trio. “Let’s find out, shall we?” She nodded to Sam and, without batting an eye, lunged at Bucky.

She tapped the underside of the hand holding the phone, causing the device to flip up into the air.

Though he hadn’t seen the attack coming, Bucky’s reflexes were cat-like, and he easily caught the phone in his opposite hand.

Unfortunately, Natasha was just as quick and knocked the phone from his hand again. She effortlessly swatted it out of the air and into her hand. As Bucky clamored to retrieve the cell phone, she swung her arm behind her back and tossed it into the waiting hands of Sam.

By looking at Sam’s broad smile, Bucky knew he was having a field day at his expense. He pounced on his teammate, grappling for possession of the device. He wasn’t sorry for elbowing the other man harder than he ever would if they were sparring each other. He needed his fucking phone back!

Sam managed to flick the phone over his other shoulder in the process of Bucky grabbing ahold of Sam’s wrist and twisting the same arm behind his body. It clattered to the ground at Steve’s feet.

As everyone stared at the cell phone lying prone on the tile floor, Sam backed Bucky into the cabinets, trapping him with his body. “Let me go, Bird Brain!” Bucky huffed.

Steve bent to pick the phone up, holding it in his hand. Bucky could see the war playing within Steve’s blue eyes as he struggled against Sam. Steve was just as curious as the other two but didn’t want to betray his friend.

Natasha quickly snatched the device from Steve and started thumbing at the screen.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Steve protested.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you to put a passcode on your phone, Barnes?” Natasha tsked as she navigated to the messaging app.

Bucky knew the exact second she found what she was looking for because her eyes became comically wide. A feral, shit-eating grin crossed her mouth as she raised a brow again.

“Tell me about (Y/N).”

“What?” Steve questioned, crowding the red head. “Lemme see.”

Bucky felt his cheeks go aflame as Natasha angled the screen so Steve could see the message thread. They burned hotter as Steve looked up with his own shit-eating smirk.

“Well, well…” Sam piped up. “If your faces are anything to go by, Vanilla Ice’s still got game.” Bucky twisted his arm back further in retaliation causing Sam to grunt in discomfort.

Bucky watched as Natasha’s thumb skimmed along the screen to delve deeper into past messages. Her thumb stopped as she read a passage; her green eyes rapidly followed the lines of text.

“I always kinda figured you’d be into someone that would call you out on your BS. She sounds fun,” Natasha said as she continued to scroll.

“No one’s into anyone. We’re just friends,” Bucky murmured.

Steve’s head shot up to stare at his best friend, sorrow painting his features. He edged away from Natasha. “Does she know who you are?” he asked.

Bucky shook his head no. “And she never will.”

“Aww, but you guys sound so cute together,” Natasha pouted. Bucky frowned at the insinuation. It couldn’t ever happen.

“There aren’t any rules saying we can’t date,” Natasha mentioned. “Hell, you know how many times I tried to set up this big lug?” She motioned to Steve with her thumb.

“That’s different,” Bucky said after a few moments. He eased up slightly on Sam’s arm.

“How so?”

Bucky rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, the blush starting again. “He’s Captain America, and well, I’m not. Not exactly everyone’s favorite.” He downcast his eyes to the floor.

“Buck, you know that’s not true,” Steve said woefully. “It’ll just take some time.”

“I know, Stevie. Until then, though, I’m still a pariah.”

The super soldier serum couldn’t have been given to a better person, but Bucky always felt like he would be trapped in Steve’s shadow, no matter the amount of good he did. He would still feel weak for what Hydra did to him, or not good enough to be labeled Captain America’s best friend.

Feeling the room take a considerable turn toward somber, Natasha called out, “Holy shit, Barnes! You used Wilson’s toothbrush to clean your toilet?”

“What?!” all three male voices cried out.

Sam rushed forward, trying to see the proof for himself. “You’re a dead man!”

Freed from the weight of Sam’s body, Bucky leaped forward toward Natasha and Sam. Slamming into Sam’s back, he snaked an arm around the other man, reaching frantically for his phone. He was done with them spying on his non-existent personal life.

Bucky smacked against Sam’s hands and arms, trying to dislodge the device.

“Stop!” Sam bellowed. “You’re hitting me like an eleven-year-old girl!”

“Gimme back my phone!” Bucky shouted.

Suddenly, the sound of ringing filled the small space of the kitchen. The scuffling stopped in an instant as everyone tried to figure out where the noise was coming from. Sam glimpsed down at his hands and jumped apart from Bucky as if he’d been burned. He looked horrified!

“Oh, shit!” Sam exclaimed, shoving the phone back at Bucky.

“What did you do?!” Bucky screeched when he realized the ringing was coming from his phone on speaker.

The sound ended abruptly, only to be replaced with the gentle tinkle of a woman’s voice.

“James?”

Chapter Two | Chapter Four

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[justthehiddleswrites]

Destiny Has Other Plans | Loki x OFC | Epilogue

A/N:  So this is the last chapter for them.  I do have an idea for a second series with these two.  If you would like more of Loki and Alexis, let me know!  I have been overwhelmed by the positive response for this story.  Thank you.

Pairing: Loki x OFC

MASTERLIST IS HERE

Summary: When Loki goes to ask his father for permission to marry, he is shocked to discover his destiny has already been made for him.  He is already betrothed to Sjofn, the daughter of the King of Vanaheim.  An arranged marriage to bring the two kingdoms closer together and strengthen the bond.  Never mind that Sjofn and Loki can’t stand each other.  

After The Battle of New York, Loki is sent to live at Avengers Tower as punishment for his misdeeds.  But it doesn’t mean he has to like it.   A year later, he has adjusted to life on Midgard but has avoided any romantic or emotional entanglements, still bitter over his lost love.  Dr. Alexis Randall is skilled at helping others fix their relationships as a couple therapist, but can’t help her own love life.  A chance encounter with Loki in a dive bar has life altering consequences for both of them.  Now, Alexis and Loki must figure out a way to co-habit without killing each other in the process, plus navigating impending parenthood and other roadblocks along the way.

This Chapter: Loki and Alexis settle into their new life as parents to twins.

Warnings: Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Smut, Angst,  Semi-Public Sex, Mentions of law enforcement, Oral Sex, Cursing, Vaginal Sex

Taglists are Open, please let me know if you wish to be added.

–

“You know you can stay here for as long as you want.” Tony stared wistfully from the kitchen as the movers walked by with boxes. “It’s not like I don’t have the space.”

Alexis handed off one baby to Nat and rubbed Tony’s shoulder in comfort. “Vanir babies start displaying their magic at six months and given those two…” She gestured over where Nat was cooing and Loki held his son. “… propensity for mischief, we are expecting it even sooner. We need our own space.”

Tony’s eyes lit up. “An entire floor just for the four of you. You can have a run of…”

“Weren’t you the one who couldn’t wait to get rid of me? That didn’t even want me here in the first place?” Loki countered, not looking up from the funny faces he was making at the baby.

“That was before Alexis and….” He turned his head to Alexis. “How do you say their names again?”

Both Alexis and Loki chuckled. “Áleifr and Ástríðr but we just call them Oliver and Astrid.”

“I just call them adorable.” Nat piped up, tossing Astrid into the air, earning a giggle from the baby. “You will bring them over, right?”

“Barton has already browbeaten Alexis in promising to bring them over at least once a week.” Loki added.

Nat narrowed her eyes at Clint. “You didn’t push her hard enough. I would have gotten twice a week.”

“I am just cutting back on my practice, not closing shop entirely. And Loki still has his duties here.”

Loki’s head popped up. “Which reminds me, what about my paternity leave?”

“Take it up with HR.” Tony waved him off.

“I don’t report to HR.”

“Take it up with…” Tony’s eyes scanned the room, catching Steve walking in. “… Cap. He handles all the leave requests.”

“I, what?” Steve stood confused. He spied Loki and Alexis’s luggage along with the two pack and plays and diaper bags. “Is it moving day already? I’m going to miss you guys.”

“I will not miss you.” Loki muttered.

“LOKI!” Alexis scolded. “Ignore him, Steve.” Alexis took Oliver from Loki, since he was fussing and was ready for a feeding. “He is going to miss you.”

Alexis settled into the chair that Nat vacated and undid her blouse to feed Oliver.

“Now explain to me again why you are living in an apartment rather than on Vanir or Asgard? Wouldn’t that make more sense?”

Alexis and Loki gave each a knowing glance. “And please our fathers to no end? No, thank you. We both agreed that living in New York would keep them from meddling too much.” Alexis added.

“And how are they taking all of this?” Nat asked.

Loki sighed. “It thrills them to have grandchildren, but are less overjoyed at the fact that we have no intentions to get married?”

“Ever?” asked Bruce, pushing his glasses up his face.

“For as long as they push us to do so.” Loki added.

Thor walked in carrying a large box. “Which if you know our fathers could be an eternity.” He dropped the box onto the ground. “That is the last of it, Brother.”

“Thank you, Thor.”

Alexis finished up feeding Oliver, who was now dozing off in her arms. “And this one has had his fill, we should go before he wakes.”

There was a collection of sniffles in the room. Everyone gathered for last hugs and baby forehead kisses.

“Call me whenever you get a babysitter.” Nat offered.

“You’ll have to fight Frigga for it.” Loki offered. No one said a word about the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“Deal.” Nat wiped away the tears with the back of her hand.

“State of the art baby proofing?” Tony offered. “The best Stark Technology can offer.”

“We’ve already closed on the apartment.” Loki countered. “And Frigga and Gerth have taken great lengths to ‘magically’ baby proof it.”

“Rude.” Tony laughed to stop from crying. He pulled Alexis into a tight hug. “I’m going to miss you kid, keep this guy in line.”

“Technically, I’m older than you, Tony. I’m older than Loki.” Alexis choked. “But I will.”

Loki grabbed the bags. “One would think we were dying. Your sentiment is touching but ill placed. Now Alexis, we really must get going darling or else traffic…”

“Right.” Alexis turned to everyone. “Thank you.” Her voice cracking.

Thor came in for one more hug. “We should be thanking you. He is lucky to have you.”

Loki cleared his throat and Alexis broke away and grabbed a diaper bag and one of the car seats while Loki grabbed the second one. Steve and Thor gathered up the rest of it and within ten minutes they were on the way in one of Tony’s town cars.

Alexis glanced at the car seats and grabbed Loki’s hand, squeezing it tight. “Is this what you envisioned your life when you were sent here? Are you disappointed, my love?” She asked.

“Is it what I envisioned? Hardly. I intended to wile away my days alone. Love was something I believe was no longer available to me. My fate was set before I could walk. And then…” He kissed her cheek. “… you came into my life. An unexpected, unwelcomed surprise.” Alexis ducked her head. Loki reached out and raised her chin with his fingers. “But one I desperately needed. It is not what I envisioned. It is even better.”

He leaned over and kissed her tender, pulling her near to him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She wrapped her arms around Loki’s neck and kissed him again. The sound of both babies crying interrupted them. Alexis sighed. “You take the troublemaker.”

“Which one is that?” Loki’s lips twitched into the smile. “They both seem to be troublemakers to me.”

“Like father…” Alexis giggled as she reached for Oliver, who was closer to her.

“Like mother…” Loki countered, reaching for Astrid.

“Like their parents.” Alexis smiled.

[flyingkiki]

A Very Merry Christmas (1/4)

I've been working on this since December last year, in hopes of giving you a steamy Christmas. But life, anxiety, and the shitstorm of 2020 came in the way. But either way, I worked through this, got all chapters ready for some regular steamy #TimRae goodness. I'll post regularly so all chapters will be out soon. Enjoy this first steamy TimRae nugget, my loves!

Notes: Messed around with ages and timelines. I like Tim and Raven in a more adult setting, past their teenage years. Doesn’t strictly follow any universe, rather a mix of this and that. They're adults and Damian is still a pre-teen kid.

Part Two of my Vanilla Series. Because Tim is a k!nky boi, and we know it. Here's Part 1: Flavor: Vanilla.

~

Chapter 1

“How many estates does the Wayne family have?”

As they were driving up the icy road, Raven warily eyed the large house decked in a thick blanket of snow. When Tim mentioned they’d be spending Christmas week at the family vacation home, she certainly did not expect another mansion in the outskirts of Gotham, tucked away by a range of trees and lush snowy forest cover. She thought of a cottage by the forest – not an 8-bedroom and 10-bathroom monstrosity of a home. Raven blinked and looked out the window. Was that a tennis court she just saw?

“There are a few,” Tim chuckled and they neared his childhood home. He eyed the home fondly and shot Raven a brief smile. “This one is Bruce’s favorite. We spend a lot of holidays and summers here,”

Hard to imagine that in between all the vigilante and business work, and all the dysfunctional family disasters and ill-managed feelings, the Wayne’s somehow were still able to spend some time together as a family. Raven had quickly learned after the rift between Tim and the rest of the family with losing and finding Bruce in the time stream, and all the tension between all the siblings for one reason or another, Bruce (or likely Alfred) had made it more of a habit for the family to gather whenever possible. Over the years as they have grown older, old wounds have somewhat healed. Somewhat.

“I cannot picture Bruce Wayne as the fishing-by-the-lake kind of father,” Raven mumbled, absently eyeing the snowy white trees whizzing past them.

“He likes to take Damian the lake when the brat is out of school during summers,”

Raven hummed in acknowledgement and watched as they finally approached a security gate. They’ve been driving for hours and it came to a relief that she’d be finally be able to stretch her legs. But the idea of finally, officially, meeting the Wayne family “outside of work” unsettled her. Worry loomed in the pit of her stomach as they drove up the driveway of the large house made of intricate stonework, impossibly large windows, and aged wood. She inhaled softly, staring at the home muted by the thick blanket of snow. It was beautiful.

“Who drives a motorcycle in the middle of winter?” Raven frowned when they drove past a large motorcycle covered in snow carefully parked next to pine trees.

“Jason,” said Tim as they finally came to a stop under the car shed next to Bruce’s Bugatti. Who drives a Bugatti in the middle of a cold wave? Raven eyed the car.

“We’re here,” Tim announced. A blanket of silence dropped over them with only the soft noise of the engine filling the air, Tim allowed Raven to process their arrival. He watched as she stared out the car window, taking in the snowy garden.

After the Killer Croc incident and the discovery of the rather embarrassingly ill-placed hickey, the entire family assumed that he was seeing someone. For a period, Jason had been talking non-stop about Tim’s sex life (“Dude, you are a kinky piece of shit.”) and Bruce had dropped invitations to holiday and gala dinners, which Raven remained hesitant to attend. After a year of postponing dinners, they did finally decide to attend this Christmas getaway after Alfred told Tim “It would be nice to finally meet your partner, Master Tim. I would like to meet and thank her for taking care of you, my boy. It would be wonderful to get to know her,” he said. And that was that. No one declines Alfred.

It was a miracle that they kept the relationship under wraps for over a year now. Tim understood Raven’s need for privacy and her hesitation to meet Bruce. Some wounds still ran deep, no matter how long ago their first encounter was. The thought still left a bad taste in his mouth, the idea of a young Raven being turned down by the Justice League. He knew that there was still bad blood between her and Zatanna while Clark tried his best to make up for their hasty decisions over her. He watched Raven inhale softly and fiddle with one of the silver rings on her left finger. “Hey,” he said softly and reached out to touch her hand. Deep blue eyes stared back at him and he cracked a soft smile. “All good?”

Raven returned the small smile and tilted her head just a little bit. “You think very loudly,” she said and adjusted her hand in his so they could hold hands. Years ago, she’d shy away from this kind of contact. It was strange how time has changed her. She watched Tim’s smile brighten and she released a nervous breath she was holding. “Yeah, I’m good,”

Tim gave her hand an encouraging squeezing. “We don’t have to do this, you know?”

“I know,” Raven replied. “But I guess now is a good time as any,”

He gave her hand another encouraging squeeze. “It’s not like they don’t know you anyway,”

Raven snorted ungracefully and rolled her eyes. “I’ve spent more time with everyone in that house in masks and Kevlar than unmasked. I’m thrilled to see everyone in their silk PJs,” she said dryly.

“I guess now’s the best time to meet everybody unmasked,” Tim told her. He released her hand and turned to shut the engine. He turned back to her and smiled, grabbing her arm and gently tugging her towards him. He pressed a long kiss against her lips. “C’mon. Let’s go inside,”

They stepped out of Tim’s warm car and into the biting cold. It was mid-afternoon and it was already slowly getting dark, and everything was becoming colder. Raven made a face and pulled the grey bonnet over her ears and joined Tim by the trunk. They pulled out their duffle bags and slowly trekked towards the front doors of the mansion (calling the monstrosity of a house a cottage in the woods would seem insulting). Raven eyed the house in awe and apprehension.

Hurrying up the wooden stairs and stomping off the snow from their boots by the worn mat, Tim fished out his keys from his pants. Throwing her a curious look, he slid the silver key into the lock. “Ready?”

Raven made a face and her eyes momentarily slid towards one of the frosted windows, seeing warm light past the heavy curtains. “Not really,”

“Raven,” Tim breathed, eyes widening, and his hand stilled.

Raven rolled her eyes and gently nudged his shoulder. “I’m kidding. C’mon, I’m freezing, and I need to pee,” she whispered teasingly.

“Tease,” Tim grinned at her gasp as his cold nose pressed against her cheek for a quick peck. Turning back to the door, he unlocked it and quickly opened the heavy front door. As they entered the welcome warmth of the foyer, they were greeted by the familiar movie soundtrack of the Grinch. Removing their coats and leaving their bags for later, Tim led Raven towards the living room. “We’re here!” he announced.

“Timbo, in here!” They heard Dick from the other room over the noise of the Grinch followed by low muttering and scuffling. “Sit up, Jason! Don’t embarrass us in front of his girlfriend!”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Dickface,”

“Hey guys,” Tim entered the large living room and found his whole family scattered across the ridiculously large leather sofa and carpeted floor. He felt Raven hesitate beside him before appearing next to him and Tim snorted at the collective response of shock and surprise from everyone.

“Hey Timbers – oh my fuck.”

“Master Jason, language!”

“Raven?!”

In hindsight, perhaps it was a bad idea for her to just join the family for their Christmas weekend as every single member of the Wayne family openly stared at Raven and Tim. Raven inhaled softly and took a step back as she felt the onslaught of emotions. She watched the open surprise cross Bruce face, and she quickly averted her gaze to Dick, who gaped at her like a fish. Yep, definitely not a good idea. An uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of her stomach as she felt out of place.

“Raven,”

She turned to Bruce again and she blinked as the man rose from his seat on the sofa, a rather ugly throw blanket slipping from his thighs. She quirked a nervous smile and breathed. “Hi,” she said. Blinking, she waved lamely. “I brought wine?”

“You and Tim?” Dick blinked, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. How did his second-in-command start dating his younger brother? How did he even miss this? “How? When?” Dick blinked lamely. “Huh?”

“Raven!” a small lithe bundle of a soft green Christmas sweater bounded towards the couple and hugged Raven. “It’s you!”

“Hi Cass,” Raven chuckled and hugged the younger woman. Over Cass’s shoulder she and Tim exchanged small smiles. Raven always had a soft spot for Tim’s sister. Cass turned in Raven’s arms and eyed Tim with a playful look and nudged his shoulder. “You kept secret!”

“Sorry,” Tim laughed and waved his hands in defense.

“Perhaps Miss Raven and Master Tim would like to freshen up a bit before we have some afternoon tea? Or hot chocolate. I’d think that would be a great idea, don’t you think?” Alfred said this with an air of finality as he stood up and briefly glanced at his wards before turning to the couple and smiling kindly at them. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Miss Raven.”

“Thanks, Alfred.” Raven smiled, tension leaving her shoulders. She pulled away from Cass and the girls gently squeezed hands.

Tim cleared his throat at the collective surprise still in the room. Bouncing on his heels, he turned to Raven. “Okay. Bathroom?” Raven nodded, relief flooding her face at the chance to escape the awkward introductions. Turning back to his flustered family, he rolled his eyes and absently took Raven’s hand. “We’ll be back. You guys get it together,” he told them before turning on his heels and gently tugging Raven back to the foyer.

Leaving the surprised family in the living room (“You guys better not get handsy up there” “Jasssssonn!”), Tim and Raven picked up their bags and made it to Tim’s old bedroom. Raven raised an eyebrow in amusement at the sight of old band posters on the wall.

“Bathroom’s over there,” Tim pointed toward the door in the corner that led to the private bathroom. Raven hummed in acknowledgement, still keyed up from all the emotions downstairs.

After puttering around in the bathroom and washing her face, Raven emerged from the rather ridiculously luxurious personal bathroom (she was definitely going to take a long, hot bath and put up some scented candles in there) and found Tim absently tinkering with an old laptop on his desk. Ignoring Tim, she walked around his old bedroom, taking in old books lined in a bookshelf. Finding some curious titles, she thought she might want to check out for later. She smiled and picked up an old Superman action figure. She moved to the wall that held a few of Tim’s old photographs. An old gritty photograph of Gotham Tower with the Bat Symbol illuminated behind it hung in the middle of an array of landscape photos.

“I took that when I was 9,” Tim said, joining her by the wall and pulling the old action figure of Clark out of her hands. They shared a smile as he waved Superman’s arms around lamely before dropping it back on the shelf.

“You haven’t done photography for some time,” Raven commented.

“Been busy. You know, saving Gotham, running a company, staying alive,” Tim smiled and watched as Raven quirked her lips in response. He watched her move around his old room in curiosity, taking in old trinkets and photos, eyeing books and posters, and smiling fondly at old memorabilia. He felt a warmth spread inside of him as he watched Raven, in her oversized grey kitten sweater, study parts of his old life. While life as a Wayne (and a Drake) was beyond messy, he realized that this – the sight of Raven gently pressed against the large windows of his old room watching snow gently fall into the garden – was something he wanted Raven to be a part of in his life and share more with her – mess and everything.

Raven looked over the shoulder, offering a rare smile at the gentle press of his warm emotions. “You’re on vacation now. Maybe we can walk around and take some photos,” she said. She watched Tim join her by the window and wrap an arm around her waist. He offered her a gentle smile. “I’d like that.”

“So,” Tim breathed, a warm lilt in his voice as he looked at her. “What do you think so far?”

Raven tilted her head and hummed. “Do you think they’d mind if I just spend my entire time here in this room?” she asked teasingly.

Tim laughed and squeezed her hip. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, her held her close and allowed his hand to slip underneath her sweater for another gentle squeeze. “As much as I’d like to keep you in my childhood bedroom, I don’t think Alfred would approve.” He mumbled into her hair.

Raven hummed and shifted in his arms, she looked over his shoulders at his ridiculously large bed and back up at him with a teasing glint in her eyes. “But there is so much we could do in here,” she said.

Tim laughed softly and pulled her closer to him, relishing the soft press of her against him. “Oh, believe me, I have plans for you,” he said against her cheek and grinned at her soft chuckle. He gave her hip a teasing squeeze before kissing her fully on the lips. He had missed her; they had not seen each other the last few weeks because of her off-earth mission. He had every intention of making sure they made up for lost time in his old bedroom.

Raven hummed against his lips before pulling away, a small smile playing on her lips. “Such loud dirty thoughts, Tim Wayne” she teased and gently nudged him away. Rolling her eyes at the guilty chuckle, she stepped out of his arms and brushed her hair back with her hands. “Do you think we should go back downstairs?”

“Yeah, let’s. I promise you that Alfred’s hot chocolate is to die for,” Tim said while leading her out of the bedroom.

If the rich chocolate smell was any indication, Alfred’s hot chocolate smelled divine. Raven blinked, trying to come to terms of the domesticity of the entire scene in front of her – Bruce Wayne, Batman, in comfortable house slippers and a grey sweater that probably cost more than what she made each month, carrying a tray of sugar cookies into the sitting room. The rest of his brood were gathered around a glass coffee table, with steaming porcelain mugs in their hands.

Cass perked up around her mug at the sight of Raven and Tim entering the room. She waved them over from where she sat curled up next to the table within easy reach of the cookies that Bruce just deposited on the table. “Come, sit!”

Bruce’s raised his eyebrows at the couple and he straightened. He looked at Tim for a brief moment before locking eyes with Raven. It momentarily startled him to see the woman in front of him, out of her uniform, a much older version of that young girl he had met so many years ago begging for their help. The memory unsettled him for a moment, a shift of emotions he was sure Raven caught as her head tilted just a fraction of an inch and she blinked. He smiled instead and placed the cookie tray on the table as she and Tim approach the group.

“Hi, Bruce,” Raven greeted Bruce, barely catching his mix of emotions and she smiled lightly up at the older man.

“Hello, Raven. It’s nice to have you with us.” Bruce eyes shift to towards Tim and he quirked an amused eyebrow. “It’s quite a Christmas surprise,”

“A rather pleasant one, if I may add,” pipped in Alfred as he appeared with a tray of more mugs of hot chocolate. He and Raven exchanged smiles. Raven always liked Alfred.

“Sit,” Cass grabbed Raven’s hand and tugged her towards the coffee table, obviously thrilled to have a girl in the house to spend time with. Raven smiled and allowed herself to be tugged to the floor next to Cass. She shared a quick amused glance at Tim before turning to the younger woman as she pressed a hot mug of chocolate into her hands. “Drink.”

“Thanks,” Raven smiled and folded her legs underneath her. The hot chocolate smelled delicious and the heat of the mug warmed her cold hands. She felt some of her tension slowly melt away.

“Why didn’t I know about you two!” Dick exclaimed from his perch on the loveseat. He sent hurt looks to both Raven and Tim. His blue eyes widened in realization. “So that’s where you run off to sometimes. You said you’re going to a museum!”

“To be fair, I did,” said Raven, sending Dick an amused look before taking a tentative sip of the hot chocolate. It was delicious. She hummed in approval and shared a small smile with Cass.

“Just with me most of the time,” Tim grinned at Dick after gabbing one of the mugs from the table and plopping down into the large sofa he shared with Bruce.

“Soooo,” Jason announced sounding terribly smug from where he was sprawled out over an overstuffed armchair. He lolled his head towards Raven and his green eyes shone with mischief. “It was you who gave Timbers that crotch hickey.”

“Jason!”

Dick coughed loudly into hot chocolate, chocking on one too many marshmallows. He did not need to know that. “Jason, damn it!”

“Language, boys!” Bruce sighed loudly and watched as Jason grinned smugly at Raven, their houseguest – Tim’s secret girlfriend. And thanks to Jason’s not so gentle reminder, said culprit of Tim’s large hickey he had the misfortune of seeing many months ago. He sunk into his seat in the sofa and mentally groaned at the terrible mental image. He really did not want anything to do with his sons’ sex lives. They were all adults, but still – Bruce sighed.

Of course. Trust Jason Todd to bring up sex. Ignoring Tim’s embarrassment and the heat that crept up her cheeks, Raven narrowed her eyes and stared back at an amused Jason waiting for her answer. “Yes.”

“Raven!” Dick whined.

Jason cackled and hot chocolate dangerously sloshed around in his expensive porcelain mug. “I like her!”

Bruce sighed and took another long drink of Alfred’s hot chocolate. He needed sugar. Thank god Damian was out walking Titus, he definitely did not need his 13-year-old son to hear about Tim’s sex life. Or hearing it confirmed by Raven.

As if on cue, the front door opened and Damian announced his arrival. There was quiet shuffling in the background and a distinct bark before the Damian’s monstrosity of a dog came bounding into the room followed by his youngest son. Damian blinked in confusion at the sight of Raven talking to Cass, obviously wondering what the Titan was doing here. Titus on the other hand stood at attention at the sight of the newcomer and barked briefly at Raven, gaining her attention, before lying down a few feet away from her and watching her cautiously with a loud whine.

“Is there a mission?” asked Damian, eyeing Raven quizzically before turning to Dick and then to Bruce.

Jason snorted and swung his socked feet over the armrest. Taking a rather dangerous sip of his hot chocolate from his precarious position on the armchair, he grinned in amusement at the little brat. “Please meet Timmy’s girlfriend,” he said dramatically, theatrically waiving at Raven with his mug.

Damian eyes widened briefly before shooting Tim a quick glance and turning to a mildly amused Raven. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he told her dryly.

“Hey!”

Raven chuckled softly. She shared an amused smile with an indignant Tim before turning back to an unfazed Damian. He stared at her for a moment, unsure what to do. They had rarely interacted outside of missions, the boy had held her at arm’s length at times – probably because of whatever knowledge he had of her from his grandfather and the League. Though she wouldn’t blame him, she’d hold herself at arm’s length too. She titled her head, the corner of her lips quirking slightly as she sensed the young boy’s unsure emotions. “It’s nice to see you again, Damian,” she said.

Damian blinked. His gaze shifted back to Tim, who was watching him intently. Turning back to Raven, he stiffly nodded. “Welcome to our home,” he replied automatically.

“Such an exciting welcome wagon you are,” Jason said dryly, shooting the short boy a teasing smirk while helping himself to another mug of hot chocolate.

“Dami have some hot chocolate,” Dick beckoned Damian towards the coffee table as he heaped another healthy spoonful of marshmallows into his mug. Raven always wondered how Dick’s sugar levels seemed to do so well during Cyborg’s annual physicals.

While Damian busied himself in pouring his own mug, Dick looked curiously at Raven and Tim, watching in astonishment as Raven handed over her phone for Tim to keep as she sat cross-legged on the floor next to Cass. He watched Tim stuff the device into his pocket and Dick blinked – it was so odd to see Raven allow such simple intimate acts around her. When Gar tried to even touch her phone, he would be blasted off the roof. He pulled himself out of his reverie as Damian unceremoniously plopped down next to him and Dick nearly spilled his drink. Catching Raven’s eyes, Dick smiled brightly, and pressed on with their earlier conversation. “So, when did this start?” he asked.

“Oh,” Tim breathed. He watched as Raven looked over her shoulder to catch his stare. Turning back to Dick, he tapped his mug thoughtfully, wondering just how much they should get into detail. “Remember that mission in Lisbon?” he asked.

Dick’s eyebrows furrowed remembering the Titan’s mission of taking on that inter-galactic firearm smuggling ring led by Slade. There was a lot of fighting, shooting, and blood. They had Red Robin join to help Cyborg hack into the several space stations and track local smuggling movements. His eyes widened at he stared at Tim. “What? That was over a year ago. I was there. You two got into arguments!” he accused. He turned to Raven with a bewildered look, feeling utterly confused. “You said his plan was, I quote, ‘fiery hot mess’ and he was stupid beyond belief.” Jason released a bark of laughter in the background.

Raven shrugged dismissively. “It was. He is.”

“No, reckless. The word was reckless.” Tim tutted.

Raven rolled her eyes. “And still stupid. You got shot.”

“Still took down the entire operation.” Tim grinned and they shared a small private smile. Turning back to Dick, he offered an easy shrug, as if everything explained for itself. “Asked Raven out on a date once we all got back and recovered from blood loss.”

Dick gaped at them, still thoroughly confused. “That was 18 months ago. How? All this time –?”

Damian sighed loudly looking rather bored. “Your detective skills are rather disappointing, Richard, if you failed to take notice for the last 18 months,” he said. Dick made a disgruntled sound next to him.

“I’m happy!” Cass announced nudging Raven and the two shared a smile. Raven felt herself relax, as an easy conversation fell on the group and everyone continued to tease Dick for his terrible situational awareness skills. She chuckled at a joke Jason threw at Dick and looked over at Bruce, who remained quiet throughout most of the conversation. She caught his eye briefly and felt whatever tension that was left in her leave as the two shared a rather brief smile.

Dinner was a chaotic affair as promised with Jason and Damian, and on occasion Tim, getting into arguments and Dick trying to placate the situation. Though it was not like Raven was not used to the chaos, after living with Victor and Garfield, and Jinx, for so long. Tim had agreed that he and Raven would help Alfred in his baking tomorrow. When Cass was not busy talking to Raven, she’d endlessly tease Tim or Jason for one thing or the other. Bruce looked over his children occasionally trying to break up arguments or admonish Jason for his cursing. It was a surprising sight, to see this different side of Batman, and it threw Raven into a loop. It was admittedly nice, despite her initial apprehensions, to meet everyone outside of their Kevlar and masks.

“So?” asked Tim later that evening as he appeared from the bathroom barefoot in nothing but his sweatpants. Raven looked up from reading an old philosophy book. She watched Tim towel his wet hair as he approached the bed. Closing the book, she allowed a small smile to play on her lips as she watched him approach, appreciating as the defined muscles rippled with each movement. Tim’s work with his bo staff does wonders – not that it was something she’d openly admit. She caught his amused emotions as he sat down on his side of the bed, catching her stare. “What do you think of today?” he asked her, reaching out and affectionately squeezing her calf.

“It was alright,” Raven replied, placing the book on the bedside table. She turned to Tim and watched him haphazardly throw his used towel onto the nearby office chair. “I’ll pick it up, I promise,” he chuckled as she rolled her eyes. Tim turned off his bedside lamp, engulfing them in the soft light from Raven’s lamp. Climbing into bed next to her, he turned to his side and propped his head on his left hand. “Was it?” he probed.

Raven sighed and sunk into bed next to him. She looked up at him as Tim gently brushed some of her hair behind her ear. “It’s different,” she admitted. “I’m still getting used to the idea of seeing Batman in Armani lounge wear.” Tim snorted ungracefully. “It’ll take some time adjusting to all these emotions from everyone. But it’s nice to meet your family outside of work. Thank you for you bringing me here to meet them,” she told him.

“I’m glad you’re here. I’d like to share this with you. It’s a bit messy and chaotic, but it’s family. I’m happy you’re here,” said Tim gently. He offered her a small smile and grabbed her left hand and gave it a soft squeeze. “I’m sorry if everything is a bit overwhelming. We can always go home when you want to,”

“I know. Thank you.” Raven replied and tugged Tim towards her, allowing him into her space and wrapped his arms around her. She did not realize her emotions were so keyed up until now. Her emotions settled at the familiar press of Tim’s body and the warm press of his emotions against hers. She felt one of his hands slip under her camisole and fingers fanned against the small of her back. She sighed contently and melted into the embrace. She felt a mumbled “I love you” and a kiss against her forehead and she smiled, fingers curling around Tim’s bicep. She hummed and pressed forward, clumsily kissing Tim on the cheek. “I love you too,” she whispered, a little breathless. It often amazed her as she found herself saying these words, three words she thought she’d never say intimately to anyone. Strange how Tim seemed to have easily settled into her life.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, silently relishing the intimate moment between them. Raven quickly learned into the relationship how much Tim enjoyed giving and receiving affection, a result from his own demons of the past. Giving affection so openly was something she gradually learned to do over time. Tim had a way of helping her learn and grow over the year.

She felt Tim shift and before she could acknowledge his change of emotions, she yelped softly as his leg slipped between hers and his foot brushed against her own. “Cold feet!” Raven gasped, trying to jerk her feet away as Tim wrapped his feet around her and pulled her against his chuckling chest.

“Share some body heat,” Tim chuckled against her hair and his legs held her own in place. He shifted again, enjoying the gentle press of her curves against him. Slipping his thigh just a little bit higher between her legs, he smiled as Raven shifted towards him, her thigh brushing against his own.

“I know what you’re doing,” there was an amused lilt in her voice. She could feel the hard press of him against her hip and she canted her hips just a little bit to brush against him. Raven hummed at Tim’s soft sigh.

“I know that there’s a no powers rule in this house,” Tim mumbled and his hand slipped over the curve of her ass and gently squeezed. He heard Raven hum against his chest. He felt her lean up and kiss the hallow of his neck. He bit back a groan as Raven shifted, deliberately brushing up against him. He squeezed her tightly, amused at her teasing. “But,” he breathed and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Do you think you could cast a silencing spell in this room or something?”

“Oh?” Raven breathed, look up at Tim in amusement. Her eyes danced in delight as nimble fingers slid under her shirt again and traced her spine. “What for?”

“Well,” whispered Tim and nudged her up to get her face closer to his. He grinned impishly at her amused face and briefly tipped forward to languidly kiss her, relishing the needy press of her lips and tongue against his own. Pulling away, he chuckled at the soft whine of protest and leaned forward to briefly kiss the crook of her neck before leaning into her ear. “I really don’t want anyone in this house to hear what’s about to happen in my childhood bedroom,”

An excited thrill ran down her back and Raven felt heat pool low in her stomach. “Oh?” she whispered catching the wolfish smile on Tim’s lips. She draped her right hand over Tim’s bare shoulder as he turned and pressed her into the mattress. Her fingers tingled with magic, spell ready at her fingertips, as she teasingly traced a protruding scar on his deltoid. “What’s going to happen?”

Tim clucked his tongue catching the teasing glint in her eyes. “I’ll have to show you then.”

Raven just had about enough sense and time to release the spell from her fingertips just as Tim’s fingers easily slipped underneath her pajama bottoms and inter sleek, hot heat. Legs spreading instantly, back arching, and jaw dropping at the delicious friction, Raven gasped loudly.

“TIM!”

Raven released a breathy gasp as fingers moved slowly into her. The rhythm slick wet noise of Tim’s fingers driving into her at a steady pace had heat pooling low in her abdomen and her legs quivered in anticipation. His fingers steadily increased their speed, drawing out long whines and soft moans from her.

Despite the cool Christmas air, she felt her skin warm as heat shot through her body. She felt Tim’s heady press of desire as he kissed the pulse point of her neck and teeth gently scraped against her sensitive skin. Raven whimpered as she felt him push and prod against the bundle of nerves, her hips gently thrusting against his fingers chasing for release. She felt herself so close to tumbling over the edge.

“Shhh,” Tim whispered teasingly, hooded eyes drinking in her undone state. Nipping the underside of her chin, he listened to her release another breathy whimper as he continued his steady ministration into her sleek heat. Over her gasps and groans, he could hear the wet sounds of his fingers pumping into her. His cock twitched in anticipation. “The others might hear you,” he teased, watching as she gasped and bucked into his hand. They were lucky she cast the silencing spell as Raven whimpered and fluttered around his fingers, release just a few strokes away.

“Please,” Raven herself tumbling towards the edge as her body quivered and she greedily devoured Tim’s lust and desires press into her. She whimpered as she felt him kiss her collar bone before pulling the strap of her camisole down to expose her right breast. She gasped and groaned as his tongue flittered around her nipple before teeth and tongue eagerly engulfed the sensitive bud.

With a nip to her nipple and a few more fast, measured thrusts of his fingers, Tim watched as Raven released a strangled cry and came totally undone. Drawing out her orgasm, his fingers curled and pumped into her fluttering heat, helping her tumble down the cliff.

Raven’s back arched off their bed as her world exploded and she continued to buck into Tim’s hand, riding out the high and soaring through an explosion of colors and sounds. She gasped and whimpered, fingers curling into his bicep to help ground her and gain some control.

Their movements slowed and Tim pressed a warm kiss against her cheek, watching as Raven slowly returned from her high. Pulling his fingers out of her, he watched as Raven whimpered and writhed at the loss of contact.

“Fuck,” Raven breathed, as her senses returned, and she lazily lolled her head towards Tim watching him pull his fingers out of her. Tim hummed thoughtfully, his gaze dropping from her rumpled pajama bottoms to his soaked fingers before licking her sticky juices from his fingers. Raven released another whimper as desire and heat seemed to flare low in her abdomen again as she watched him eagerly lap up her cum from his fingers. Fucking hell, the thought of their total debauchery in her Wayne manor a distant memory.

Pausing with his careful licking, Tim hummed and smiled at her. Drinking in her disheveled look, he leaned over her again and relished the beautiful release of pressing his straining cock against her hip. Rocking into her, Tim pressed a kiss onto her cheek. “We should have a Kinky Christmas,” he whispered and teasingly hooked his fingers into her pajama bottoms and underwear, nudging them down slowly.

Raven released a breathy laugh but found herself nodding. She felt Tim tug her pajama bottoms off her with a few more tugs and pulls of hands and feet. “Give Jason more things to tease us about?”

Tim clucked and chuckled, pressing another kiss into the hallow of her neck and listening to her breathy intake of breath. He quickly removed his own pants, sighing as his member sprang free and brushed against her thigh. “We got the silencing spell up,” he said while pushing her legs apart and settling in between them. They groaned as his member brushed against her core. “This will be our little Kinky Christmas celebration,”

Raven hummed, hands draping over his shoulders as she eagerly rocked into his hips in anticipation. The room was stifling, and she wanted so, so much more. Drinking in his heated stare, Raven gave him languid smile, and spread her legs just a little bit more.

“Then let the festivities begin,”

[sleepysailorghost]

Arcade wasn't sure what he expected when the Courier asked him to accompany them. They hadn't given a name, only said they were a Courier. It wasn't much to go on, but the Courier had looked up at him with big eyes. And for some reason, it didn't sound all that crazy to venture beyond the fort with them, a natural stanger.

They had listened so reverently when Julie spoke. They had fulfilled any job asked of them by the Followers. Certainly, if they harbored ill will towards the Followers, they would have gotten to their revenge before now.

He had asked for their name, if only to be polite.

"I don't have one. Courier or Six is fine, if you'd like."

"You don't have a name?"

"I guess I probably did once, but I don't remember any more. I just remember the man in the checkered coat- an 18-carat run of bad luck-and then waking up in Doc Mitchell's house. Maybe that man knows who I was. I don't know."

"That doesn't bother you, not having a past?"

"No, not really." The Courier leaned back. "I'm just me. Sure, I can't look back on the road behind me, but I can look forward."

"Interesting. Are you going to look for the man in the checkered coat?"

"I don't know. I guess I could. I'm supposed to, because he stole something from me and shot me in the head."

"Wait, he shot you in the head?"

"Yeah, that's why I don't remember much. It messed with my head too."

"Well, yeah. Getting shot in the head would do that."

"Oh, wait, I do have one hint to who I might have been." The courier starts to undo the many closures of their armor, like a fire's been lit under them. "What do you make of this?"

The Courier drops their armor clumsily on the floor, and then goofily flexes. He doesn't really know what they're refering to, but then he sees the poorly-done tattoo on their upper arm. It's a ring of roses and thorns that raps under their bicep. Despite being very mediocre, it is legible and in color.

"Huh." Tattoos aren't really unique, but it is something. "Maybe your name is Rose?"

"Maybe. It doesn't sound right."

"Maybe you just need to try it out for a while, wear it in." He's trying to help, but the Courier is a near stranger to him. "Or, if you'd like, I could arrange for you to see Dr. Usa-"

"No thanks. Don't want to take up her time." The refusal was off faster than a bullet from a sixgun. "If you're ready to go, so am I."

"Sure." He agreed. It wasn't really healthy of the Courier to act out against the idea of visiting the clinic, but it wasn't something he could force them into. At least, not as a near stranger.

This turned out to be one of the few times the Courier's former-NCR sniper friend wasn't travelling with them. He probably wouldn't have decided to go with the Courier if he had known they had company. Still, it isn't all that bad, even if he feels a little crowded with the Courier, their robot pet ED-E (he hates that thing), the King's robot-dog, the sniper, and the Remnant medical researcher. One more person, and the Courier will have a small army.

Not that the Courier normally has all of them traveling together at once. It's too noticeable, draws too much attention. It might even sound like a joke: an Enclave eyebot, a police cyber dog, an amnesiac Courier, a grouchy NCR sniper, and a medical researcher walk in to a bar...

It makes the Courier happy to travel with him, so he does it on occasion. Those occassions become a lot more frequent after they return from a place they call the "Big Empty".

That had been months ago. Now, he felt like he knew the Courier. Not that he wasn't surprised by the Courier-he certainly was. But he was familiar with the Courier now.

It was a dangerous sort of thing, that familiarity. He was even starting to think that perhaps it would be a good idea to let them in on his own origins.

And he knew how the Courier felt about him.

Leaning against his side while they sat at a fire, the Courier's hands stripping a defeated foe's weapon, they had muttered something.

"Sorry, say again?" Arcade responded. Most of the time, it was just complaints about bent springs or whatever, more to themselves than to him.

The Courier's hands stopped, laying the weapon on the ground.

"You're my brother, Arcade." The Courier says, and then continues before Arcade could interrupt. "Not by blood. Or hell, maybe you are. It's not like I'd remember. Course you are a heck of a lot taller than I am...maybe the tall gene skipped me."

Arcade doesn't say anything, attempting to process what the Courier was trying to tell him.

"No, we're not related by blood." He agrees, although he has no real way to confirm it without knowing the Courier's identity.

"I know." The Courier put their hand up to their chest. "I just...well, I know you're my brother. I, uhh, care about you."

Arcade didn't know what to say about that. It really did feel like it had come out of nowhere to him. A few weeks later, the Courier had gone running off to a place that might have been their home.

Antietam is walking by his side now, but their gaze is drawn over to an old poster. The pre-war store was filled with advertisements for many different products, from Sugar-Bombs to the newest products from Rob-Co.

Shelves, long ransacked and destroyed, have created something of a maze. The laminate tiling on the floor has become loose after centuries of neglect. Decorations littering the area would mark this location as a raider base at some point.

His friend doesn't seem to notice any of that, moving closer to a central display that might have been made of stacked shoeboxes once. Now, the boxes lay in a crumpled heap.

"Antietam, wait-" He says, and the courier stops.

"Yeah? Do you need something?"

"You need to be more careful! This could be a trap."

"I don't think it is. I'm pretty good at finding traps and I don't see any tripwires or bear traps. I've stepped in enough of those."

"Of course you wouldn't see them! It's a mess in here."

"I'm not going far. I just wanna see if I can find some of those."The Courier pointed at an advertisement. It was of a girl with little wheels on her shoes, looking over her shoulder as she spun away. Under the picture, it read "Roll with the punches with Roller-Ray skates!".

"Do you..need those?"

"Well, no. I just think they would be cool. Just rollin around town."

"I'll go with them." Boone added, if only so he could keep an eye on them.

"Yeah, plus ED-E's sensors haven't picked up on anything. I can handle myself while looking for skates, Arcade."

On that note, the Courier and Boone go to pick through the rubble. When they returned, Antietam raised their arm triumphantly.

"We found them! A little dinged up, but I can fix that. C'mon, lets go outside to try them!" With the hand not holding their skates, Antietam grabbed at Arcade's sleeve.

"Okay, okay." He said, because Antietam's enthusiasm for things was infectious sometimes. They exited the store, entering that had once been a parking lot. Rusted-through cars sat abandoned and the sun hung low in the sky.

Antietam dropped to the floor, strapping on their skates. They were metal and fit awkwardly with their combat boots and spurs. Awkwardly, like a baby radstag on ice, the Courier stood up.

"Okay,so I just." The Courier lifted one leg as if to take a step. Their balance was offset by the movement. Next to him, Arcade saw Boone move to catch the Courier if they fell, but the Courier braced themselves on a car instead.

They took a few more awkward steps.

"Yeah, I think I'm getting the hang of this." Their movements were jerky, but in time, perhaps they'd be alright at it.

Then they hit a skid in the destroyed asphalt and took a spill. Their left side collided hard with a rusted shell.

"Ouch." they groaned, and then collapsed onto the parking lot. "I'm just gonna rest here for a second."

Arcade laughed a little, and then helpfully whined about the sun.

"Alright, alright. Okay, getting up." The Courier pushed up from the asphalt with both hands, rising from their crumpled mass.

"Nothing broken?" Arcade asked, seeing Antietam avoid putting too much weight on their left side.

"No, probably just bruised." They replied, but that was what Arcade had expected. They were still extremely hesitant to be medically examined, even if it meant concealing and ignoring injuries. It stung Arcade-someone who the Courier allegedly loved like a brother-to be held at arms' length. That being said, he couldn't be upset with them either. The Courier had suffered greatly and been stripped of agency by doctors. It was a mark of pride that Antietam trusted him.

Actually, he could still be angry with them for concealing injuries.

The sun was beating down as steadily as it always did in the Mojave. A bead of sweat formed on Arcade's neck.

"Oh shoot." The Courier murmured, looking over their hands. They wore fingerless gloves, and a pip-boy on one arm. Arcade examined the injury. It would be a lot of work if the Courier came down with tetnus. "It's just a scrape, Arcade."

"It's not just a scrape. It's dirty and could get infected."

"Hottest part of the days coming up. We should wait it out in the store." Boone added, helpfully.

"C'mon, listen to your big brother, ok?" Arcade tried with a smile. The Courier looked up at him with their wide brown eyes.

Arcade was not above emotional manipulation.

Half a year ago, if someone told him that he was going to play big brother to a Courier who knew nothing about their past and hated doctors, he'd have likely sent them to see Dr. Usanagi.

The Courier ran their gloved hand through their short white hair. It fluffed up their bangs (despite the pin staying in place) and revealed the twin scars on their forehead and the surgical scar that ran around their skull.

"Okay." The Courier responded, sticking their wrist out to him for treatment.

"Oh, that's a nasty cut." he said, "Let's head inside so we can get this treated.:

In the end, even if the Courier was a hassle sometimes, he was glad to be their brother. He was turning into such a sap.

[pagesfromthevoid]

It Takes Time | 6 | g.w.

George Weasley x Tonks!reader

Word Count: 1,781

Warning: Mentions of suicide, depression

A/N: Not me, posting after like two months of being absent. Absolutely not. 

Do not repost my work without my permission

*              *               *               *               *

It didn’t take long for George to become a staple part of Y/N’s life. In only a short few weeks, he spent much of his time at their flat with them and Teddy. They enjoyed each other’s company, and the two would spend every night talking until Y/N reminded him that they needed to sleep too. The two never talked about Fred or Dora, but they talked about other things. Their families, their time at school. They’d reminisce about their Hogwarts lives. At one point, Y/N admitted to having a brief crush on him in their third year, but it didn’t last longer than a week or so. There were a few occasions where they almost kissed; almost moved past the “will they, won’t they” phase. But it never did, and neither one of them seemed keen on ruining what good thing they had. 

It made more sense for him to go to them --less breaking up Teddy’s usual routine and more to get the baby accustomed to George’s presence. Though Teddy didn’t seem bothered by George being in his life; on the contrary, the child adored George and the little toys he’d bring by. Y/N also quite enjoyed his presence too, though. While they worked and minded Teddy in between baking, George spent most of his day cleaning and handling the shop. And then, in the evenings, he would walk down the road to join the two for dinner. Sometimes he’d cook, sometimes they would. It was a nice new routine for the three of them.

Tonight was no different. 

George was the one cooking this round, humming to himself as he stirred a pot of pasta. Y/N was in the living room, rocking Teddy in his little swing as the baby giggled. The child was mimicking George’s hair and freckles once again, clapping his hands together happily as his aunt played with him. Every so often, George would peak around the corner to see the commotion, and it made his heart lurch to see Y/N and Teddy, looking like a proper Weasley. What a sight; it was like seeing a future without a teacup. But the thought was always pushed aside because George wasn’t trying to rush into a marriage or into fatherhood. No, no. He needed to get the shop opened before he turned his attention to any of that.

But dating...dating was okay. At least, whatever he and Y/N had currently was. They hadn’t labelled it but he didn’t mind so much. It made life easier, and he had someone who didn’t look at him and start crying. Really, there wasn’t much more he could ask for at the moment. He hadn’t told anyone they were seeing one another, though Lee had a pretty good idea. But Lee was good at not asking questions unless he really needed to. George wasn’t quite ready to make the world --or more specifically, his family --aware that he was seeing anyone. Not yet, anyway.

You don’t usually go this slow, Fred teased as George moved throughout the kitchen looking for spices. The living twin rolled his eyes. Not even a kiss; a proper gentleman, aren’t you?

“Shove off,” George murmured back, keeping his voice low to avoid Y/N hearing him. “I’m enjoying myself. They’re good company.”

Pretty company too, mate. If I were alive…George’s stomach dropped at the comment and Fred’s disembodied voice disappeared. If I was alive, he said. It was such an innocent comment, but it caused George’s limbs to go limp at his sides. His vision tunnelled and he couldn’t breathe.

Fred was dead.

Fred was dead and George was hearing his voice in his head while cooking in the kitchen of the first person to show George positive attention since the war.

Merlin’s beard, he was drowning suddenly. 

He gripped the counter for a moment, trying to ground himself back into reality. But George felt sick; it had been so long since he had properly thought about Fred and his death. He hadn’t been sleeping as much but he wasn’t having nightmares when he did. He was blissfully ignorant and distracted by Y/N and Teddy, and the sudden reminder that Fred was dead just threw everything into a tailspin and he couldn’t breathe. Hot tears spilled down his cheeks and onto the countertop as he tried to keep his sudden despair quiet. Y/N was still laughing in the living room, they were still playing with Teddy and everything was still there. Everything but his brother, and the sanity that George was slowly losing.

After a few minutes that felt like hours, George took a deep breath and finally was able to stabilize himself. The pot had boiled over and he stared at it for a moment, blinking slowly as he considered how to clean up the hot water. Running a hand over his face and through his hair, he took another breath and turned off the stove, moving the pot aside. The water ran over the burner and sizzled, but enough was left over that he needed a towel still. 

He’d become familiarized with Y/N’s kitchen pretty easily, but his head was spinning and he couldn’t think of where to find towels. So he simply started opening drawers until he found them. Most of their towels were little dish towels on top, and he wanted something a little thicker to keep the water from burning him. He dug through the drawer absently until his hand hit something cold and hard, and his brow furrowed as he pulled out a glass vial from the towels.

It was clearly hidden in there, and he wasn’t quite sure what it was --a potion, obviously, but he wasn’t familiar with the color. Distracted by the vial, George tossed the towel on the counter and popped the top open. It didn’t need to get too close though, because even a foot away, the stench was overwhelming and caused George to dry heave. The smell was hard to describe; something like burning hair and that iron smell of blood. And the sickness that George was overwhelmed with only got worse as he realized what it was.

Baneberry.

Baneberry Potion was a very poisonous concoction, one that caused almost instant death if the entire thing is consumed and one that caused unimaginable pain and illness if even just a drop was taken. George stared at the vial in his hands, slowly coming to the realization that Y/N had the potion in the cupboard for themselves. That they had the poison to end their own life at any given moment. It made him angry --genuinely enraged, actually. How could they promise him that they’d never kill themselves, that they’d never leave Teddy alone but have bloody Baneberry Potion just sitting in their cabinets? He could feel his cheeks heating up from anger as he heard them coming into the kitchen.

“George, how’s dinner coming?” they asked, running a hand through their hair as they walked into the kitchen.

The wizard turned, holding the vial in his hands as he looked directly at them. Y/N’s eyes fell on the vial in his hands and they felt the blood drain from their face, their mouth opening slightly.

“Why?” He asked through gritted teeth.

Their mouth opened and closed, unable to respond. George set the container on the counter and stepped towards them in one long stride. “Y/N, why? After dinner that night…I thought that everything was okay, I thought you were fine...I thought…” His anger slowly faded back into the despair, and now concern for their wellbeing. He just got them; he couldn’t lose them.

Taking a deep breath, the other wizard looked down and swallowed hard. “The first few months...they were so hard,” they murmured. “I let Harry take Teddy for the weekend...I just...I didn’t think I could do it…” Slowly they looked up at him, eyes watering and tears threatening. “But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because of Dora. Because...Because of that little boy.”

“Then why keep it?”

“I...I don’t know.”

George picked up the vial carefully and held it out to them. Y/N stared up at him, tears in their eyes and confusion clear in their expression, not making a move to take it from him.

“Take it,” he commanded, pushing it into their hands. “Pour it out.”

The distraught wizard before him stared for a long moment before slowly reaching out to pour the potion into the sink. They watched each other as they did so, never taking their eyes off of each other. 

“If this...if this is going to work, Y/N, we need to be honest. We need to try to get better and not just pretend we’re okay,” George explained, turning on the water to ensure that the potion was cleared away entirely. “I...I care about you a lot and I don’t know what this is, or what we’re doing, but I don’t want to lose it. I don’t...I can’t lose you too.”

He watched their E/C eyes drop to the floor and tears began hitting the ground. Without a second thought, George pulled them into his arms and hugged them tightly against his chest. He needed this. Y/N  needed this. They needed physical contact, from anyone or anything, and this embrace meant more to him than anything else could at that moment. Y/N hugged him back immediately, as if their life depended on it, thanking him over and over again. The redhead rested his chin on top of their head, holding them there just a little bit longer before finally letting them go. Y/N wiped their eyes and sniffled, looking down once more. 

“I think I ruined dinner,” he murmured as they pulled apart, though his hands rested on their hips. Y/N’s hands were on his biceps, and they gave them a gentle squeeze. 

“I’ll send for take out, then.”

George moved to pull away but Y/N’s grip on his arms tightened. He looked down at them, to ask if they needed something else, but Y/N’s lips were on his without warning. It took a moment to process but George returned the kiss with excitement, returning his hands to their hips to pull them closer to him. He pushed them back against the sink gently, as a way to keep themselves steady. Y/N’s hands slid up, resting now to cup his cheeks as they shared a proper first kiss.

When they finally pulled away, they kept close to one another, holding each other with eyes closed and basking in the afterglow of the emotional roller coaster they had just experienced. Y/N opened their eyes, looking up at George with a small smile.

“I don’t want to lose you either, George.”

—————————

Taglist: @l0vege0rgie @sunles

[prophecy-is-inevitable]

Would you be willing to do a Michael x Plus Size Reader? I feel insecure sometimes, especially thinking of how perfect he looks and I worry I would be too needy for him considering he called Gallant out for his neediness. I also feel like I would call him out for his neediness too since he wants someone who understands him, assuming we knew each other well enough. Can you do something with all this? 👉🏻👈🏻

Ooph. This one is really hard for me since it’s very far out of my comfort zone, but you don’t get better without practice, right? I hope that this has turned out in a way that you like! 100% yelled at Michael when I saw that shit, too. Like, YOU KNOW ALL ABOUT NEEDINESS DON’T YOU MICHAEL LANGDON?! HUH?! Anyway...fully agree. I think it might have been a little hard for him to see his neediness mirrored in someone else and that set him off. He can be the ONLY needy one. Disclaimer: Please don’t drink antifreeze to experience Michael Langdon. Thank you!

The Two Instances of Neediness

He’d promised you safety. Above all else, he had promised that he would keep you safe and make sure you were cared for when he couldn’t be with you. It seemed only half of that promise came through.

For the last year and a half, you’d been diligently waiting for him to retrieve you from Outpost 3. Safety had been provided, as promised. The white stone and dark wood walls were kept warm for the dozen or so people that resided inside the structure. There were enough rooms and beds for everyone to have their own space. A small mercy in the grand scheme of things.

When you finally saw Michael Langdon again, he had certainly changed. The way he carried himself, the exquisiteness of his clothes, the length of his hair… Everything looked and felt different. He looked and felt like everything he was meant to be. Divine yet deadly, comforting yet cruel. He was the sweet taste of antifreeze coating your tongue, euphoric and paralyzing all at once as he snuck into your system and shut you down from the inside out.

You watched him with a wondrous smile as he strode into the library. Your teeth sank gently into your lip in an attempt to keep from crying out his name. Surely he would still remember you. He surveyed the room with a self-satisfied smirk upon seeing the entirety of the Outpost gathered for him. When he spotted you, though, the smirk morphed into a painfully familiar look.

Eighteen months ago, you stood inside of Outpost 3 clad in nothing but your underwear following the mandatory decontamination process all new survivors had to undergo. A redhead with a pinched, strict face stared at you with a sneer, her eyes taking in every extra curve and flaw of your body. You stared right back at her with a smirk, daring her to make a single comment, when you both knew why you were there. Michael’s own people had brought you here on his behalf. Whatever this woman thought of you? It mattered for nothing in comparison to him.

Now, Michael stood at the center of the main library floor below you, gazing at you with the same sneer and furrowed brow that Venable bestowed upon you that first day. Your grey dress was plain and ill-fitting; at least if you’d been able to fashion some sort of belt or tie it could have almost looked appealing. The high bun was ridiculous and hurt your scalp something awful. Every night you let your hair out felt like a thousand bees stinging the follicles. Any alterations to the servant uniform you had been given were strictly forbidden. As was everything else.

You had been given safety, yes, but cared for? No. And now you stood there, eyes brimming with unshed tears, as he scowled hatefully at you and you could feel your heart crumbling piece by piece. Maybe he’d sent you here as a way to get rid of you. Maybe he’d found someone else, someone smarter, stronger, more conventionally beautiful. Perhaps his gaze would have been different if you had been granted the elegant drapery of the Purples. The corsets that cinched their waists and lifted their breasts gave them the perfect hourglass shape of a goddess. Your full figure would have been the very image of voluptuous and desirable then. There was no way you could bear to look at him now.

Days went by without seeing Michael. Between your work around the Outpost, your blatant avoidance of him, and his nonexistent attempts to reconnect, the opportunities were--thankfully--sparse. Conflict raged inside of you. Part of you wanted to confront him, to see what the fuck he thought he was playing at with your life and your feelings. The other part was happy to live in the questionable bliss of ignorance. You didn’t want to hear of whatever new love he’d found that superseded the love he’d claimed to have for you.

While it was easy to avoid his person, it was much, much harder to avoid his name.

“Langdon” was all anyone could talk about. How handsome he was, how skillful he must be in the bedroom. Gallant was certain that Langdon had his gorgeous blue eyes on him, and you’d never hated the hairdresser more. You hoped he choked on his cube. When his grandmother revealed that she had seen him having sex with someone, you resigned yourself to the fact that you had lost Michael for good. If he was interested in lean blond men, he certainly wasn’t interested in you anymore.

Venable assigned you to keep tabs on Gallant while he was strung up awaiting punishment. Once a day, you would throw a bucket of water over him to keep him clean. He still received his daily rations that you had to feed to him yourself since his hands were chained up. All you would have to do was shove the fork a liiiittle bit too far down his throat, and all the disparaging words he’d whispered just loud enough for you to hear behind your back, all of the times he’d tried to make you doubt your worth would all be over. There was only one man that you allowed to sow seeds of doubt in your mind. You froze mid step when that man’s voice drifted under the closed door of Gallant’s “cell”.

“I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last man on Earth,” his sweet voice dripped with contempt, “and you almost are.” The slow drawl of Michael Langdon’s voice continued inside of the room, bouncing tauntingly around the circular walls. “It’s not because you’re not physically attractive. It’s your neediness.” His tone of voice shifted dramatically from dulcet and slow to cutting and cold. It made you shiver, even as you felt the anger burning inside of your skin. It wasn’t for Gallant. Oh no, he could mock that shallow, conceited man all he wanted. “You’re desperation to be seen and loved. The hole you need filled isn’t in your face or your ass--it’s in your heart.”

No, your anger wasn’t on behalf of Gallant. You couldn’t help feeling he was also talking about you. How you’d often sought reassurance in him, and hoped to feel loved to validate the feelings that you felt for him, too. Above all, you were angry because you knew his words would have cut himself deeper than any other before he’s become this...this creature. Where was the man you knew and loved before the bombs fell?

“You’re pathetic.” Your lips trembled and tears burned in your eyes. The words, while not directed at you, punched the air from your lungs. Is that how he felt about you? Was that why he was avoiding you as if you had radiation sickness? The footsteps and the opening of the door didn’t register through your self-imposed turmoil. Before you knew it, the man that had been on your thoughts stood before you.

“No.” The word left your mouth before you could stop it. Your eyes narrowed at his and you stepped up, toe to toe, with his immaculately polished shoes. “You’re pathetic, Michael Langdon.” For the briefest moment, his glacial eyes melted and looked from your tears to the anger and hurt in your eyes. “You forget that I know you, Michael. Or at least I did once. No one needed love more than you, and now you weaponize that fact against someone else? Is that how you feel about everyone?” You bit into your lip as your entire body shook, the water you carried in your arms sloshing against the sides and mimicking the raging sea of emotions tearing you apart. “Is that how you feel about me?”

The answer never came. His arms remained, as always, clasped behind his back. Wide eyes narrowed dangerously to scan the surrounding halls to see if anyone was there to witness your outburst. His head bowed to yours, forehead to forehead and nose to nose, before he spoke.

“I will be conducting your interview this evening. Ms. Venable is already aware that you will not be attending dinner.”

With that, he turned on his heel and made his way down the hall in perfect, casual strides. You turned and let your back thud against the wall. The stone was cold against your back as you slid, shaking, to the floor

“What the fuck was I thinking?” You muttered to yourself several hours later when it came time to make the journey to Langdon’s office. You dreaded hearing whatever he had to say. Now he would be in the privacy of his own rooms and be able to rage against you however he saw fit.

“Come in.” Michael’s voice beckoned you before you could even lift your hand to knock. You opened the door slowly, heart heavy with dread, and kept your eyes down. Movement from his desk let you know where he was. “Now, now. No need to look so shy.” He approached you slowly, a smirk on his lips, and reached out a hand to cup your chin. “You forget that I know you, too,” he threw your words back at you.

You finally managed to lift your gaze to his and found it resting on your lips. The hardened ice of his gaze dissipated with an inquisitive tilt of his head, and your heart skipped at the familiar gesture. His warm hand on your skin, gently holding your face, brought back so many memories. The next thing you knew, he was stepping back from you and scanning your form from head to toe. The same glare and curl of his lips appeared as the first night he had arrived. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around yourself and attempted to shrink away as much as possible. He exhaled in a heavy, aggravated sigh. So he did think of you that way, too, then.

“She is going to pay for this,” he growled. Your head shot up in confusion. She who? Pay for what? Michael pressed his lips into a thin line of displeasure. “I specifically ordered that your position within the Outpost be among the elite. This is a blatant disregard for my commands. If I had known sooner… Take it off.” Mind still muddled in confusion, you simply blinked up at him. Michael gestured with his elegant, jeweled fingers curling into his upturned palm. “That ridiculous uniform. Take it off. And let down your hair. I can only imagine how uncomfortable that must be for you.”

This had to be some form of trick. You were supposed to have been a purple all along? He’d promised that you would be safe and cared for... No, he was using any trust that you had left in him against you--just like he had toyed with everyone else in the Outpost. The realization made you quickly shake your head. You were not going to expose yourself to him just so he could mock you and hurt you any further. His face fell at your refusal, and his brow furrowed.

“Please. It’s been so long. Knowing you’ve been right here with me the last few days without being able to truly speak to you has been excruciating. Please let me see you.” Oh, how you wanted to believe him. How badly you wanted to think he had missed you and desired you. When you still didn’t move, he came towards you again and forced you to back up against the door. “Perhaps you need a bit of help.”

Michael stooped down and gently captured your ankle in his grasp. He removed your shoe with the effortless tug of his hand to toss it behind him and repeated the process on the other. Next, his hands ran up the sides of your legs. Gentleness was a foreign display from this new Michael, but it was one that your Michael had used often in ascertaining his feelings for you. A soft whimper slipped past your lips from the way he carefully gathered the fabric of your plain dress.

“Look at me, my love.” The command was a gentle one that you couldn’t help but to obey. His eyes mirrored the soft, passionate pleading of his words, and the feeling in the room shifted to something much more in your favor. “How I have missed you.” Several silent tears dripped down your cheeks. It would only be a matter of time before things came crashing down. You could feel it. “Now, take your dress off for me.”

He sat back on his heels and waited, smirking up at you quite happily. Every bit of you screamed no, to remain still, not to become so vulnerable in front of him. Yet, you could still see a part of the man you knew in those glistening blue eyes. A renewed determination filled you, and you removed his hands from your dress to tug it over your head. You tossed the dress into the corner and held your arms out to him in a show of exposure so against your usual nature it was painful. If you were lucky, a pit to hell would open up beneath you and save you from the tragedy. Or perhaps you were already there.

“Is this what you wanted to see? So you could mock me for my appearance, for my neediness to be appreciated and loved for more than what everyone sees? Fuck you, Michael. There was a time that you needed to be loved more than anything. That you wanted to be loved more than anything.” Your legs shook slightly from the willpower it took not to crumple in on yourself.

“Yes.” The words came from Michael as a hiss. Still it seduced you to him like the snake of the Forbidden Tree. His eyes appraised you as he stood, wide and remembering, taking in every curve and dip of your body that made you so scared and so uncertain of anyone’s affection. “This is what I wanted to see. To see you.” Michael’s smirk grew and he placed his hands on your waist. “There are only two occasions in which neediness is not a thing to be mocked, but to be adored.” The hands on your waist pulled you against him. Another whimper blended into a moan at the feel of his warm body against you.

“The first instance is the neediness for me that drips off of you. The second,” he pushed to sigh, “is how badly I need you. To see the image of perfection that I have dreamt of every day for the last 18 months. The warmth that has been absent from the bed beside me for too long.” The gentle pressure of his hands on your sides softly moved upwards over your breasts, along the tops of your shoulders, fingers dancing along your throat, the final destination being your cheeks. Love spread over every inch of your body. His words to you were nothing but the truth. A slight tremble to his lips broke the calm composure of the man the outpost knew as Langdon, Cooperative Agent. In his place stood Michael Langdon, your Michael Langdon, and he very eagerly captured your lips in his.

Everything was conveyed in that one embrace. He still needed you as much as you needed him. It would be your little secret.

[objection-argumentative]

Soulmates Part 8

This part is NFSW

Any feedback will be greatly appreciated

Enjoy 

Masterlist!

"Andrew, why are you here?" Kelsey was stunned at the older man. "I have come to bring you home in time for our wedding. I know you haven't been home since you were sixteen, but I planned a big white wedding for you. I thought it would be romantic as you like shit like that." The whole room was stunned in silence. You could hear a pin drop; it was that quiet. Andrew took an opportunity to grab Kelsey by the arm and try and pull her out of the building.

Rafael mind caught up with the scene in front of him. He pulled Kelsey to him, making Andrew lose grip of his soulmate's arm. "young man, I know you think you love this girl, but if you know what's best for her, you will let her go. I paid for this little number when she was eight years old. After years of waiting, it's time to cash in my investment."

Rafael snarled at the man." Suppose you think that my soulmate is returning to England to marry someone old enough to be her grandad, your more senile than you think. Now leave her alone, or I will have you arrested for assault and attempted kidnap of an NYPD detective." The older man looked between the couple, watching Kelsey cling to Rafael, causing his suit to crumple in her fists. "Fine, I will leave" Andrew grabbed Kelsey's chin and forced her to look into his eyes, "but this isn't over by a long shot, princess." Before Rafael could say anything to Andrew, he was already in the lift leaving. Kelsey ran towards the cribs and slammed the metal door.

"what the fuck was that Barba" nick was grinning like it was Christmas. Rafael glared at the packed room. Span on his heels and hurried towards the cribs and opened the door. The sight in front of him broke his heart. Kelsey was sitting in the corner hunched over herself, crying into her lap. Rafael bolted straight to the weeping girl "hush baby; it's ok, he has gone." The man scooped Kelsey up, sat down on one of the bunks and held her close. "I'm not going to let anyone or anything hurt you, baby, I promise. The vulnerable woman melted into her soulmate. "Wanna talk about it, baby?" Kelsey shook her head. Rafael kissed the crown of her head, letting her know that she was safe with him.

After what felt like hours, Kelsey stopped crying into the chest of her soulmate. Her body fell into complete exhaustion; her eyes were stinging; her head was pounding, and she didn't have any energy. Kelsey buried her face into the lawyer's neck. "I'm sorry for all the fuss. I know you didn't sign up for any of this." Rafael started rubbing soothing circles into the detectives back. "Dulce, dulce chica, you have done nothing to apologize for. We will get through this together." Kelsey nodded against the older man's neck. They sat for a good while longer, Rafael comforting kelsey, making sure she was ready to go back to the squad.

Kelsey detached herself from the man and stood between his legs and rested her hands on his shoulders. "Thank you, darling, for making me feel better" kelsey placed a kiss on his lips, stroked his cheek and smiled. "I'm going to have a shower ill see you in the bullpen for the update." Kelsey kissed the man again, moaning when his tongue slipt into her mouth. Rafael pulled away and smirked when he heard the girl whine at the loss of contact. "Go get ready baby, I will see you soon," Rafael walked out of the room to give the girl her space to get ready.

Twenty minutes later, Kelsey was sat at the desk in the bullpen. She was freshly showered, hair tied back into a "mum" bun, fresh her face was free of makeup, and she wore the new suit Rafael brought her. The whole squad was there, excluding their ADA. Cragen was explaining that there will be a partner move around. Kelsey is partnered up with Carisi. Sonny smiled at Kelsey and placed a hand on her shoulder "don't worry, doll. I have your back." Amanda glared at the pair.

Rafael walked into the bullpen. Watching Carisi touch Kelsey's shoulder sparked jealousy in his body. It was scaring him the bond was getting more robust; he didn't know much about what happens within the bond. He decided that his aubella was right; the couple did need to speak to a specialist of bonds, the couple needed to know what would happen in the bond and with themselves. He stopped watching the blonde detective from her desk, picked up the two coffee cups and made his way over to the squads brief.

He placed the large paper cup in front of her as he sat in the seat next to her. Unconsciously kelsey threaded her hand into Rafael's as the captain briefed the squad on the suicide of Katie Junave. "let me get this straight, Katie is rushed to hospital over a failed suicide attempt. She hears her mother talking with an NYPD detective about her ordeal. She then sneaks into the dispensary and overdoes on powerful pain killers and is found by nurses as the NYPD detective sits with an over-emotional mother." Finn quizzed, making sure he heard correctly. The whole squad faced Kelsey. "I know I should have paid more attention to the room, but Emily Junave was a wreck. But I made a Judgement call. I thought the doctors were taking care of Katie, and I put her mother first." Kelsey lowered her head and eyes, not wanting to see the judgement looks of her new team and bosses.

"Where was your partner Hardy?" Elliot quizzed, looking between the two blondes "Jessie needed me. I asked Hardy to fly solo; I needed to be with my little girl." The whole squad and the ADA were staring at Rollins, and it made her feel nervous. Rollins knew she had done wrong; she knew that kelsey shouldn't have gone to the call independently, but she didn't care. She and Jessie made cupcakes and watched frozen together-mother daughter time was well needed last night. "Rollins a word, now!" Rafael seethed as he walked over to one of the side rooms.

*That evening*

Kelsey sat with her legs stretched on her couch watching trashy tv. She wore leggings and a crop top with no bra. She reached over to grab her cup off the coffee table when Joanne came out of her room." Where is mister perfect tonight? Got a hot date with someone else" Joanne raised an eyebrow as Kelsey giggled. "No, he has a hot date with his work. Special victims Unit have four open cases, Meaning he is slammed with work." Kelsey sighed as she got up off the couch and flipped through the takeaway menu. "Fancy anything in particular tonight?" Joanne shook her head but pointed to the pizza menu. She nodded and placed the usual order of a large cheese pizza with Ginos.

Kelsey looked at her phone screen to make sure that she hadn't missed any communication from Rafael. She sighed when she realized she hadn't. Kelsey suddenly was not hungry anymore. The girl told her friend to put her pizza on top of the oven when it came, and she would get it later. Kelsey made her way to her bedroom. She turned on the lamp and plugged her phone into charge as she got into bed. Kelsey scrolled through social media for a little while. When she stumbled upon Lucia's Facebook page, she could not help her self but look. On his mother's Facebook page was holiday photos of her and her family, including Rafael. They were all enjoying a tropical climate sunbathing in the images.

There was one image of Rafael that kelsey couldn't stop looking at; he looked perfect. He was sat on a white plastic chair with the biggest smile on his face with a drink in hand.  He had very short but tight swimming trunks on; Rafael's body was heavily tanned from sitting in the sun. Kelsey could feel herself getting turned on by the image; she groaned in frustration and tossed the phone to her side.

She felt her hand slide down her leggings. She felt how wet she was for her soulmate; Kelsey whimpered at the contact on her sensitive clit as she slowly worked figures of eight with the nub. She started to work her clit a little faster, arching her back in the process. she began to build her orgasm up, moving more quickly on her clit as her left hand tweaked her left nipple under her crop top. Kelsey was about to cum from the most intense orgasm when Kelsey heard her door open. She was like a deer caught in headlights; her eyes flew open.

Kelsey's body froze as the door opened and revealed Rafael. "Jesus baby, I'm sorry I should have called" before he could finish his sentence, Kelsey jumped up off the bed. "Rafi, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you, I'm sorry, so so sorry, darling. It won't happen again" Rafael shook his head and pulled the girl into his chest. "Don't you dare apologize, baby. You never apologize to anyone for your pleasure. You looked like a heavenly sin baby. I wish I didn't interrupt you." he kissed her forehead and rubbed her back "what were you thinking about, baby?" kelsey sighed and closed her eyes, feeling embarrassment creeping up on her. she grabbed her phone and showed her soulmate the image of himself.

Rafael's eyes went dark and primal "you didn't cum, did you?" Kelsey looked at the floor and shook her head. Rafael lifted her face kelsey looked at the man in front of her "you are perfect, dulce chica, never shy away. You have no reason to. Please let me help you feel good. Let me make you cum, baby?" Kelsey was awestruck. Here was a man that was so perfect he made an angel look average. "Yes darling, I want you," kelsey whispered. Rafael growled, "If you want to stop at any point, say the word, and it stops immediately." kelsey nodded her head.

Rafael hungrily kissed the blonde woman. He moved from her lips to her neck down to her collar bone. The small whimpering noises coming from Kelsey's mouth is like music to his ears. He made his way back to her mouth and tugged off her top, revealing her breasts." Fuck baby. I didn't expect you to be braless dulce chica." His thumbs skim over her light pink nipples. "Rafi, please, I need you", she whispers in a breathy moan. The older man chuckles with the glint, "Anything for you, baby." The older man stripped the leggings off Kelsey and laid her down on the bed.

"You still ok with this, dulce chica?" Rafael rubbed his index finger in Kelsey's folds, feeling how wet she was for him. Kelsey nodded her head vigorously. "Please, darling, I need you." Rafael used his mouth and tongue to draw circles over Kelsey's sensitive nub. Rafael added a finger and started stroking the detective's G-spot with a "come here" motion. Kelsey's moans grew louder and longer. Drawn-out cries of desperation filled the room as Kelsey became close to release. Rafael's lips were sucking, wrapping themselves around her clit. His lips were soft and wet, and Rafael did not shy away from using them to his advantage. His greedy lips tried to suck on Kelsey as much and lovingly as possible. His tongue was a whole other story; his tongue was warm and thick. It teased her entrance with quick flicks that turned into extended explorations of everything he could reach.

As Kelsey felt herself coming closer, His movements became more frantic; he knew what he was doing. He needed to make her cum. Kelsey's entire body shuddered and convulsed as she came against Rafael's face, his mouth and hands not daring to stop until it was all out of her. Every extra touch and kiss sent tremors throughout her body until he finally pulled away. Rafael laid soft kisses over her body as he made his way back up to her lips. When his lips met Kelsey's, she wrapped her arms around his neck "that was terrific darling, thank you."

Rafael pulled off the girl and removed his clothing, and pulled on lounge pants from his overnight bag that was by the door. The man turned the lamp off and climbed into bed with the blondie. "You're so fucking beautiful when you cum, baby, and the way you moan and whimper. fuck baby. It's soo good. The older man started kissing Kelsey again. Kelsey was feeling bold, and she let her hand wander into his lounge pants, feeling the big thick erection against the palm of her hand. "you don't have to, baby. I will sleep it off." Kelsey shook her head " I want to, Darling, let me return the favour."

Kelsey started lazily pumping Rafeal's erection. the throaty moan that escaped the man's lips was pure ecstasy to the woman. "Please, baby, don't tease me," Kelsey knelt between the man legs. She leaned forward and took the head of his dick into her mouth, and started to suck him. "FUCK BABY" the man was a panting mess kelsey started to bob up and down on his dick she flicked her tongue over the head. Rafael threaded his hands through her hair and began to fuck her mouth. Her salvia all over his dick and balls while she took the throat fuck so well." Your so perfect angel, tan Buena puta polla." she reached down and started massaging his balls, "I going to cum", he stilled, giving her a choice between either wanking him off or letting him cum down her throat. To his surprise, Kelsey chose the latter, swallowing every drop of cum he produced.

Kelsey cuddled into the man's side as he came down from his high." you.are.so.perfect.baby.all.fucking.mine" Rafael kissed the girl between each word ", all yours, Rafi, I promise." the man pulled her so close to him she was practically on top of him. The room fell into a comfortable silence as kelsey was dozing in and out of sleep. At this moment, she knew that she could trust this man entirely with her life. She never felt as happy or safe as when she did with Rafael. This was her final thought as sleep took over her body.

[isthisthingeven0n]

not like the books say : d.d

brief summary: for years you’ve been friends with david, but of late you’ve developed a crush. in your attempt to rid of the burden, you start to distance yourself from david, except it doesn’t go unnoticed. 

word count:  1.7k requested: yes - by a lovely anon, thank you for the angsty idea! warnings: none that i’m aware of

* masterlistin’ / masterlistin’ 2.0

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

You always thought it just happened in films and books. Never in a million years did you think you’d end up being the protagonist who falls for her best friend. Yet, here you are; in love with your best friend, David.

It was something you intended to avoid thinking about, but when you spent nearly every moment with him it was harder than that. You kept your cool 90% of the time, and the only person who seemed to really notice was Natalie.

Since Natalie found out about your harbouring crush, you made the decision to try and distance yourself from your best friend. It was only going to be a temporary measure, just until you felt more like yourself again (and didn’t find yourself drooling over David.)

Yet, you quickly discovered it wasn’t going to be that easy. You see, being apart from David is like going without your phone for a long length of time- close to impossible. Even if you were in his house, but in a separate room, David just knew. He loved having you around, no matter what’s happening, he just wanted you to be there.

Leading you to now, sitting in your house trying to ignore the ringing and bombardment of text messages from David, wondering where you are.

“You gotta answer him at some point, Y/n.” Your friend, Dani speaks up.

She listens as you let out an audible groan before turning your phone face down. “Think that’ll stop it for a bit?” You glance up toward her unimpressed expression as she passes over your drink.

“It’s David. He won’t stop, next thing you’ll know is he’ll send the police around to make sure you’re not dead.” Dani passively jokes, but you both know it might be something he’d actually do one of these days.

Leaning forward, you reach for your phone as the mass of notifications illuminates your screen. “Yeah, I’ll just answer this one.” You mutter, seeing Dani nod out of the corner of your eye as she exits the room.

As you answer the phone, immediately you’re greeted by a long sigh of relief. “Oh thank god, I thought you died.” David dramatically exhales, hearing you chuckle through the line.

“Nope, not dead I can assure you.” You smile to yourself, feeling the all too familiar butterflies in your stomach. “Everything alright?”

Pacing around his bedroom, David nods to himself. “Yeah, yeah. I just wondered if you were coming over today? Jase is here along with Carly and Erin.”

“Sorry Dave, I can’t today.” You tell him, curling up into a cushion on the sofa as you picture his brows furrowing and frown forming.

“Oh,” David mutters, taken aback by your response. “are you ill?” Worry takes over his tone.

“No, not at all. I’m just super busy with some admin things I’ve left to the last minute. Need to just crash out in my office and get them done.” You lie, hoping he can’t tell. You’re always on top of your admin work, so being behind is highly unlike you.

“Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” David tries to hide his disappointment as you hum in response, hanging up shortly after.

Placing his phone in his pocket, David exits his room with his shoulders slouched forward. “Something up, Dave?” Jason speaks up, breaking from the conversation as David slumps onto the sofa beside Carly almost causing her to spill her coffee.

“Y/n isn’t coming over.” David states, looking up as if it isn’t the biggest surprise and everyone should be alarmed, but they’re not. “You heard me, right?” He reiterates his point, and Jason leans forward.

“Dave, it isn’t a big deal. She’s here nearly every day with you, girls gotta have some down time.” He speaks calmly, seeing David look down at his phone once more hoping you’ll change your mind. “Or maybe she’s just sick of your company.” Jason jokes, but David lifts his head up quickly at the comment.

“Fuck off, Jase.” David scoffs. “But what if she is? Like, she’s barely spoken to me all week, suddenly been super busy with work or helping out Dani with things.” David explains, everyone now captivated in his thoughts.

“Maybe she’s started to see someone.” Erin suggests, and immediately David tenses at the thought. “Or not, I don’t know.” She mutters, looking over to Carly who keeps her eyes on her phone.

Walking out from the room, David heads into the yard as frustration clouds his emotions.

“David, wait.” Natalie follows after him as he clenches his fists, leaning against the railing. “Y/n’s not seeing anyone, I know that much.” She says calmly as David sighs.

“Then why is she not around? I, I miss her being here for me to annoy all the time.” He tries to joke, but Natalie can tell he means it on a deeper level.

“Is there more to why you miss her being here?” Natalie pushes the subject, hoping he’d finally say something.

Sadly, David shakes his head. “I just miss her, alright.” He comments coldly. “I’m going for a drive, I’ll be back later.” He states before walking past Natalie without so much as looking up.

“Fuck.” Natalie sighs as she walks back into the house, hearing the front door close and everyone look up at her with the same confused expression. “He just needs to clear his head.” She excuses him before sitting back down with everyone else, sending you a quick text just in case.

*

Lying on your bed, you couldn’t tear your gaze from the ceiling, suddenly finding the detailing in the blank canvas fascinating.

“Y/n?” Dani yells your name, quickly followed by the sound of her running up the stairs and appearing at your door. “You’ve got a guest.” She swallows her breath as you turn to face her.

“But I’m busy, clearly.” You sarcastically comment, only encouraging Dani to sit beside you.

“Let me rephrase that.” She sighs. “David is here.”

Quickly you force yourself upright, looking at Dani quizzingly. “You’re not bullshitting me, are you?” Dani shakes her head, and you groan loudly into your hands. “Okay, I, I’ll come on down.” You mutter in defeat, following her footsteps as you descend down the stairs.

As you appear from the railings, David perks up immediately. He can feel his smile growing, even if he can’t see your tired expression just yet. All he knows is that you being home, and willing to see him is enough to make his day.

Appearing fully in his view, David’s smile softens as you face him. “Hey, what’re you doing here?” You ask calmly, but David can see the glances that Dani has toward you.

“I just came to see if you’re doing okay.” David mumbles, suddenly feeling like a child in a staff room at school. “You’ve not been 'round much and everyone's missing you.” He quickly adds, trying to ease the matter by focusing on the others, not just himself.

“Oh,” You think aloud, catching David’s eye. “I, I’m fine just been busy with stuff.” You repeat the same excuse he’s heard countless times now, and David nods.

“But like, is there something we can help with?” He asks, stepping forward as you step back. “I, I’m sorry if I’ve said anything or done something to upset you. You can talk to me, Y/n, you always can.” He raises his voice slightly, and Dani turns around and walks upstairs, leaving you both with some privacy.

Lowering your gaze to the floor, you watch as his feet shuffle against the wooden floorboards. “I can’t right now, David.” You tell him honestly, refusing to look up to see the cocktail of confusion and anger crossing his face. “It’s my fault, but I can’t explain it, not yet at least.”

David furrows his brows together as he focuses on you. “So we’re keeping secrets now?” He scoffs, stepping back as you do too, leaning against your sofa as your hands grip the ledge tightly. “Since when do we keep secrets, Y/n?”

“Since they involve you!” You blurt out, feeling your heartbeat thumping in your eardrums as you look at David, dead in the eyes. “I can’t stop thinking about you, wanting to be with you, being in fucking love with you and it’s driving me crazy!” You’re yelling now, unable to hold it back after so long of keeping everything bottled up.

Remaining in a state of shock, David just stares with wide eyes as he processes everything you’ve just said.

“How long have you felt like this?” He finally speaks up, and you can’t help but laugh as you cover your face with your hands.

“Too long, Dave.” You admit, still hiding your face.

David steps forward, lowering your hands down as he focuses on the worry in your gaze. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Y/n?” He mumbles, but you shake your head.

“Because it’s stupid, you’re my best friend. I, I can’t be in love with you, David.” You explain as if it were obvious.

Shrugging a shoulder, David raises his hand to rest against your cheek. “I don’t see anything wrong with it.” He whispers, leaning in closer as his lips brush yours.

Except, you pull away, falling back onto your sofa. “What’re you doing?” You ask, caught off guard as you stand up straight, the sofa being the obstacle between you both.

“I was going to kiss you, dumbass.” He chuckles, running his hands across his jeans. “Look, I didn’t mean to catch you off guard, it’s just, I feel the same.” David explains, and now it’s your turn to process what he’s just said. “I have for years, just I never thought you’d feel the same so I’ve supressed it. Kinda only realised it whenever you’ve dated some guy.”

“I, sorry,” You stumble over your words.

“Oh for god sake, people!” Dani blurts out, and you both look up to see her peering through the railings. “You love him, he loves you. End of!” She sighs dramatically before retreating back up the stairs, leaving you stood in silence once more.

“I guess this is the part where I ask you on a date then?” David turns to face you, shyly smiling as you move around the sofa and stand in front of him, your fingertips brushing along his.

“Yeah,” You chuckle softly. “I guess that’d be a good start.”

[hwarangbangbang]

jin zixuan » captivation

parts - 1 | 2

hello everyone! here is the second part, as requested by @impossibleme09​ to captivation! this is a reader insert so if thats not quite your vibe, i understand~ but if it IS your vibe and you have read the first chapter, i hope you enjoy! and i thank all you kind readers for your patience!

title - captivation word count -  3,004 words   paring - jin zixuan/fem!reader tags - THE ANGST (for the most part) IS OVER!! hopefully only lovely tings in this chapter, heartfelt emotions, mutual pining, affair, kinda happy ending

Four weeks.

Four long, lonely, dark, desperate weeks had passed since your sentencing by the Gusu Lan Sect, alongside the remainder of the court. 

They had dragged you out, kicking and screaming at the verdict whilst they quite literally began to rip apart your only best friend. You could see the look on Zhao Gang's face, the look in his eyes.

At least now, you knew he would be at peace.

You however, were confined for the rest of your days to stare at four stone walls, and a barred window and doorway being the only access you could never have again to the outside world. 

On the third day of the fifth week, which you had conveniently kept track of by using a corroded nail to carve the rustic tallies into the floor, you noticed something peculiar going on outside of your cell window. It was faint, given how quiet it always was down in the prison of the Lanling Jin Sect, but you heard it.

 The small sound of rustling paper, following by said parchment falling down onto the floor of your cell. Your cell was partially underground, the window starting at the beginning of the ground and only extending up a few feet, so on occasion trash could come in through the slots in the bars, you didn't pay much mind to it.

However, this parchment seemed different. It was a letter. 

With curious eyes, you walked over to it, picking up the letter that was sealed with a gold emblem to keep it shut. You knew that sigil anywhere, it was that of the Lanling Jin Sect. When you turned it over, you saw your name beautifully written on the front of it. 

Why would a letter be addressed to you, coming from the very sect you were imprisoned at, be coming through your cell window? Couldn't whatever message may be, not be delivered by word of mouth from a guard?

Regardless, you opened up the letter, not caring for the golden wax infused sigil that was ripped in half as you pulled it apart and began to read. 

Cultivator [ Y/L/N ], I do hope this letter finds you in good health -- though I do understand your predicament is less than desirable and for that I do apologize on behalf of the court and my sect. 

I was present that day, the day of your sentencing, and while I do agree that your choices of alternate methods of cultivation were a bit of an extreme shock to us and to the cultivation world, I believe you do not deserve a life such as this. 

You were in mourning for your companion, and it is with my deepest  apologies that you must go through it again. I wish for his soul to be carried to the highest of places, awaiting yours in the future. 

I would like to help you, should you so want that. You do not deserve to spend the rest of your life trapped as an animal for one mistake. I will leave you this letter, and return just before daybreak for your answer. 

Please think over my offer well, I hope to see you in the morning. 

Someone... wanted to help you? Someone saw through your scrutiny you were served by the Sect Leaders... the truth? That you weren't a threat, or had any ill will to harm anyone? There had to be a catch, there had to be something -- who would just willingly help you? Definitely not out of just blind trust.

Your stomach turned throughout the night, not even getting so much as a wink of sleep as your eyes were trained on the window, your evening sludge of dinner forgotten on the floor. As the evening darkness turned to a dark magenta and clementine hue, the morning sun shining through the small window, you raised up to your own two feet to pad toward the window.

You raised up on your tip toes, looking out of the barred hole as you curled your fingers around the cold metal and waited. You waited for what had felt like forever, your eyes heavy from the lack of sleep, and just when you felt like giving up on whatever hope had been brewing in your head over the night, you saw a pair of black hanfu boots, the lining instead of white cotton, was a shimmery silk laced gold. 

The robe to match could be mistaken for nothing else than a member of the Lanling Jin Sect and it swayed elegantly even from what you could see. The owner crouched down, and you nearly fainted when you saw who's face it belonged to.

"Y-Young Lord Jin?" You gasped, slipping off of your tip toes as you braced yourself against the stone walls of your prison cell. You must have gone truly mad- did your eyes really deceive you?

A small, barely present smile raised along the corners of his mouth, and you had to blink yourself out of your trance to come to terms with the fact that it truly was him. “I hope I have not troubled you due to my early risings, Cultivator (Y/L/N), I needed to arrive during the changing shifts of the dungeon guards.” He apologized, looking left and right before sitting down on his knees, bracing himself on the bars as he peered down at you. 

There was an awkward and tense silence between the two of you -- you watching him, a rosy flush coloring his cheeks as he tried his best to maintain eye contact with you. 

“So... did you sleep well?”

“What exactly is it you want from me, Young Lord Jin?”

Time. It was something you had plenty of, but in this current moment the anxiety was eating at you -- the apprehension of not knowing -- and your patience was wearing thin as he tried to skirt around the issue at hand.

Jin Zixuan cleared his throat, shaking his head. “I want nothing of you. I want to help you.” He answered, and alas, there was no tell-tale signs of dishonesty anywhere on him. His fingers couldn’t cross behind his back, as they were curled around the cold metal bars. His eyes didn’t shift side to side, as they were trained on you.

So either Jin Zixuan was a really good liar, or he was truthfully only trying to help.

Which prompted you to the question that had been at the forefront of your mind since the moment you received his letter. “Why?”

His brow furrowed, “because, I believe... you do not deserve to be here. Not trapped in here for the rest of your life as a common criminal-” he began, though you cut him off quickly. “How do you know I’m not? How do you know you can trust me not to abuse your position to get what I want? How do you know I will not, upon my freedom, raise another ghost puppet to do my bidding?!”

“Because of your eyes.”

Well that... truly stunned you. You weren’t sure how to counter that, but you didn’t need to, because he continued on in explanation.

“Your eyes show more emotion than you want. I was raised in a family where all I could do was sit and observe. I learned many things during my years, but one was how to spot someone evil.” He said tersely.

“An evil person, someone truly evil, is someone who could not care less of who gets caught in the crossfire of their wrongdoings. They enjoy the fear they inflict, the pain, the agony... But you,” he pointed towards you with an accusatory finger, though didn’t hold accusatory words, “you do not. Your eyes still have that sparkle of innocence.” He finished, but then added, “it’s quite... captivating, if I do say so myself.”

“Even if what you are saying is true-” you interjected, “how do you expect me to escape this prison? There is only one way in, and only one way out -- and it is through that door right there-” you pointed to the doorway cut out of stone, jailed by more bars.

Jin Zixuan smiled, “I’ve lived here my whole life. I know more ins and outs of this palace than you could imagine.” He pulled something from his outer robe as he stood, tossing down another letter into your hands as he looked around. “The guards have switched -- I will leave you more letters with my plans. Keep them hidden, keep them safe.” 

And then he was gone.

Days bled into nights, which morphed into the longest few months you had ever experienced. Having nothing to look at but your prison walls, the food becoming more and more inedible as the time went on; if it weren’t for your lingering hope of escape and your track keeping of each day, you were sure you would have gone mad.

But Jin Zixuan kept to his word. Visiting you every single day at sunrise on the dot, sometimes to simply just sit and talk, or to leave you more letters due to his rush to get done his princely deeds of the day. But in all the days you were stuck there, he had become the highlight of your day.

His smile, while regal and reserved, was always genuine. His voice would tell you stories of what was going on in the real world, stories you’d recall as you drifted to sleep each night. He was always helpful, never condescending... and it finally began to dawn on you that you might actually feel something for the Young Prince of Lanling Jin Sect.

This took a while for you to come to terms with. What if it had been just in your head? To be quite fair, he was the only man you had really had any contact with in... god knows how long. What if it was only your imagination that was making you picture the longing in his stares? Making you picture the somewhat suggestive sentences that hinted at wanting something more than just helping you?

But he was engaged... He had told you this much himself. To a woman who didn’t deserve how dismissive he had been to her as of late. That she was kind and sweet and caring, and deserved a better man to call a husband. It was hard for you to hide your dislike for the matter, to hide your jealousy, even as he expressed that it was only for show to keep the big sect families in harmony.

It was all a lot to process, and at the end of the day you at least knew to be true that you did in fact share some semblance of feelings for Jin Zixuan.

Months passed before the day had come. 

The day of your escape.

The change of guards would take longer due to the need for increased protection following the wedding ceremony of the Young Lord Jin Zixuan and his bride to be, Young Lady Jiang. You had only seen her a few times in passing, and only had heard seldom things about her -- but you knew one thing for sure: she definitely was lucky to be able to spend the rest of her life by his side. Something at this point you could only wish for.

A knock sounded from the barred door of your cell, and you lifted your head from the ground where you lay to see a familiar face. Jin Zixuan. He was dressed very well, in red robes as was custom for wedding ceremonies, and it honestly looked quite breathtaking on him.

The robe, which was normally a mix of golds and cream colored fabric, was a vibrant red that made his skin glow that much more than normal, it suited his tone well, and his hair was done up with the most royal braids you had ever seen. He looked amazing, and this was most likely the last image you would ever have of him.

At least it was a charming memory to have.

“Are you ready? We have little time, I’m awaiting for the word to begin the entry to the palace for the ceremony. I figure whilst everyone is busying themselves in the wedding hall... this would be the best time.” Jin Zixuan spoke, and you felt a heavy feeling in your heart. But nonetheless, you nodded. Young Lord Jin was not yours to have, he was already spoken for... but yet you still could see a pain behind his deep brown irises.

Jin Zixuan produced a small key from inside his sleeve, and for the first time since your imprisonment, you saw that cell door open and heard it creak. As you stepped outside, into the prison hall, you saw not a single guard was in sight. With a quick look you both shared together, he took your hand and began to lead you down the hall.

You were thankful for his aid, because even if you had managed to conspire this plan yourself, you would have gotten lost easily in the maze of halls. 

After what had seemed like forever, you were stopped by his arm curling around your form to jerk you back between two pillars against a stone wall. His hand came clasped over your mouth to silence any yelps that betrayed you from the surprise, and just as you were about to ask him why he had stopped you, when you heard it.

Guards. The clink of their swords. The sound of them talking. You heard at least two to your left, and even more to your right. You looked up at Jin Zixuan with a look of fear -- not for you, but for him. What would happen to him if he was caught helping a fugitive? A criminal?

He didn’t seem to share that same look of fear though, because he reached above him to pull a small pin from what looked like an embedding in the wall, and just like that, the wall behind you disappeared, only to be realigned in place soundlessly. 

It had taken you nearly off your feet, if it hadn’t been for the Young Prince’s grip on your waist holding you steady. As darkness encased the both of you, the only light allotted a few torches along the tunnel that lay before you, you felt him move before a rustling of fabric sounded, a dark blue robe being held out to you. 

“The less suspicious you seem when you get to the outside world, the better.” He explained, and after the robe was passed to your hands he turned around to politely allow you to change.

You quickly made work of your outer robe, ignoring the blush coloring your cheeks that you were thankful was hardly noticeable in the lighting, slipping on the disguise and making sure it was secure before clearing your throat. “I am finished, Young Lord Jin.” You said solemnly, your head downcast as he turned back around.

He nervously shuffled in place, holding a hand out to you. “Shall we?” He ushered, and you took it gingerly, feeling his warm, big hand, engulf your smaller, colder one as the two of you began to sprint down the tunnel. 

You were beginning to run out of breath, panting as you tried your best to keep up with him; but the fact of the matter was you had been confined to a dungeon prison cell for nearly a year in preparation for your escape, you weren’t in the best shape to run this way.

But it wasn’t endless, because at the end of the tunnel was a wall. Jin Zixuan reached up, grabbing onto a small string as he passed it to you. 

“If you pull this string, it will remove the pin above your head. The wall will shift open, just enough for you to sneak past... If you continue down the tunnel, it will let you out just outside of the city.” He said, his face alight with the torches next to him. He seemed... nervous, but not because of the big risk he was taking by busting you out.

“I know our time is almost up... but may I please be frank with you if only for a moment, Cultivator (Y/N)?” Your eyes were hopeful as you looked up at him, “of course.”

“We have spent quite a lot of time together over the months, and while I know it is very much frowned upon given our social statuses as well as my pre-arranged betrothal-”

“Young Lord Jin, please, do not hold back what it is you wish to say.” You cut him off, the anticipation nearly killing you.

He looked down at his hands clasped before him. “I... I have begun to grow a liking to you. An attachment I know is not socially acceptable. Once I become Ruler of the Lanling Jin Sect, your crimes would become nothing more than memory -- but that isn’t for a long, long time-“ He was rambling again, and you reached out a hand to steady his own.

You couldn’t quell the joy in your heart as you asked, “would you wait that long? Would you wait long enough til you were crowned leader to see me again?“ You inquired, and he blinked for a moment, before a big smile broke across his face. “I would.“

With all the courage you could muster, all things considered, you leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. They were soft and pillow-like, and he chased your own lips even as you pulled away, unable to hide your happiness and fondness as you pulled on the string. 

“Then I suppose our worries of never seeing each other again are nothing to be thought of then, don’t you, Jin Zixuan?”

And just like that, you were running out to your freedom, chasing the future where you could walk in the sun with Jin Zixuan.

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