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onigirimsby · 3 years ago

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call me home [ch. 10]

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Character: Ushijima Wakatoshi

Pairings: Ushijima Wakatoshi x reader

Tags: angst with a happy ending, post-timeskip, fake-dating

Warnings: none (so far)

You’re an ex-child star, now professional model. Ushijima is the professional volleyball player you get paired with for an ad campaign. Somehow, you convince him to simply let the paparazzi spread dating rumors for publicity. What could possibly go wrong?

a/n: pls tell me this is all making sense 🙃

masterlist ao3

Chapter Ten: no promises, just potential

Your mother hadn’t really cared what happened between you and Ushijima. To anyone scandalised, she blamed the paparazzi, and to anyone who wanted to know more, she dropped little hints about the two of you being in love or however she was spinning your story these days. What mattered most was that people wanted to interview you again. The last time she spoke to you, her only criticism had been that Ushijima was coming off as too much of a mystery man. His quiet and unassuming demeanour was meant to draw attention to you, not make people want to know more about him.

You argued that Ushijima was hardly a mystery, since he’d been playing nationally televised games and giving interviews since high school, not to mention he was on the national team in 2014. But he wasn’t a personality, the way your mother was trying to make you. He only showed up for volleyball and he only spoke about volleyball. You hoped for his sake people would get bored of that eventually.

As for actually talking to Ushijima, well, you hadn’t been able to keep your promise. You’d been incredibly busy, you told yourself, and weren’t at all dodging him. It’s just that it was all incredibly overwhelming. And until the scent of whatever 3-in-1 shampoo/conditioner/body wash Ushijima, no doubt, used would finally fade from your pillow, you wouldn’t be able to stop thinking of that night. It somehow felt a little safer just texting each other about your day, than actually sitting down to talk face to face. Which is why you were incredibly nervous when he invited you to his place for dinner.

You were surprised when Ushijima said he’d be making you dinner. The last time you were at his place, you got the impression that he only used his kitchen a little more than you did yours. Not to mention how he’d usually have dinner at some restaurant right after practice. So when you rang his doorbell and smelled the delicious wafting aroma of his cooking, you were very much relieved.

“Hi,” Ushijima said, greeting you in a white apron smeared with a brown substance. He looked a little less put together than usual, which only endeared you more.

“Hey.” You said back, suddenly awkward. How were you supposed to greet him again? It can’t be a handshake, that didn’t sound right. A hug? A kiss? God, you wished it was a kiss.

“Come in.” Ushijima finally said. You did as you were told, slipping off your shoes and padding after him. “I’m still finishing up here, so feel free to look around.” He said, blocking off the entrance to his kitchen.

“Okay.” You wandered around his apartment, noting how it was sparsely decorated. It was a two-bedroom apartment with the dining area and living room taking up the large open space between the kitchen and the bedrooms. It was much smaller than your apartment, but could surely house more décor than the trophy case in the living room.

You walked closer to the trophy case. It was full of volleyball trophies and medals, of course, but there were also photos of his old teams, dating back to his high school years. He hardly changed in each photograph, and he didn’t look very different to how you knew him. Although, maybe it was because he was making the same dour face in every photograph.

He also had a few framed jerseys. There were three in total, one from his old high school, then from the Japan under-19, and then the 2014 Japan National Team. You vaguely wondered if he had a frame ready for his Schweiden Adler’s jersey. And then it hit you.

You looked at the 2014 jersey again. Ushijima was an internationally ranked volleyball player. He was as professional as you could get. The photos and memorabilia sank in. This was his whole life. This was everything to him. He had a dream, a passion really, and dedicated himself to it for basically his entire life, and he had so much to show for it. You felt so much pride brimming in you for this man. Here you were, playing games, and he was someone who had never wavered.

“What’s wrong?” Ushijima said. You’d been so quiet that he thought to check up on you.

“Hm?” You spun around, startled. “I was just thinking how amazing you are.” You said. You meant to tease him, to play down your emotions, but your sincere smile was telling.

Ushijima looked past you at the trophy case and smiled. He wasn’t one to brag, but he couldn’t deny the pride he felt at his achievements, and how they only encouraged him to go further. Still, it felt curiously special hearing it from you. Compliments coming from you always sounded different, though he couldn’t say why.

“Is this you and your best friend?” You asked, pointing at the Shiratorizawa team photo and leaning in for a closer look.

“Yes.” He said. “That was taken during our senior year.” Ushijima leaned to look as well, and you flushed at his proximity. You remembered why you were here in the first place: to talk about whatever was going on between the two of you.

Ushijima turned and saw you watching him. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” You said too fast. “Do you need help in the kitchen?”

“No, I was just about to serve. You can wait at the table, if you want.” At that, Ushijima returned to the kitchen.

You went to the table and saw that he’d set it before you arrived. “Where do I sit?” You asked.

“You can sit anywhere.” Ushijima called back from the kitchen. Just as you sat down, he came out with two plates of hayashi rice and set them down on the table. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s just hayashi rice.” He was almost blushing. “To be honest, I don’t cook often, so I haven’t learned very many recipes yet.”

“It smells amazing, and I can’t wait to try it.” You said encouragingly. “Besides, I don’t know any recipes at all.”

Ushijima sat down across from you and offered some cold barley tea. You accepted and when you were both settled, you took your first bite. You could feel Ushijima’s tense stare.

“It’s good!” You said, and it really was. He was no gourmet chef, but the beef and sauce tasted the way they were supposed to and the rice was fluffy and warm. Ushijima was visibly relieved, and when he took his own first bite, he nodded.

“So, what’s the special occasion?” You asked.

“What?” Ushijima said between bites.

“Well, you said you don’t cook often…”

“Oh,” Ushijima swallowed. “A friend of mine suggested this as a casual way to get to know each other better. So we can be sure about how we feel.”

You thought about that as you ate, chewing slowly to delay a response. “You’re not sure how you feel?”

Ushijima shook his head and your heart fell. “I don’t know much about dating, or relationships. Even friendships confuse me sometimes, so this is not something I’d like to leave to chance.” You wondered what he meant by “this”, but didn’t want to interrupt.

“So, I wanted to ask,” Ushijima gathered his courage. “If this is something you’d like to try.” He said, “with me.”

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“I mean a relationship.” He said bluntly. You stopped eating entirely, too shocked to do anything. Even Ushijima ignored his plate. “A real relationship, not the one where we pretend for some photographers.”

“Toshi…” You started, not sure exactly what to say. He spread his hands on the table, looking distressed, which was an expression you’d never seen on him before.

“I know things are very complicated. I understand that.” His frown deepened as he searched for the words, and he couldn’t seem to look at you. “Neither of us are sure what we want yet, but I don’t want to stop seeing you.” The tension in his shoulders finally eased.

You softened. “I don’t want to stop seeing you either, Toshi.” You said. Your chest warmed at his little smile. “It’s just that I don’t think it’s fair to commit to a relationship when I’m not even sure about how I feel.”

“Why aren’t you sure?” Ushijima said, and anyone who didn’t know him any better would’ve missed the pleading note in his voice.

“Why aren’t you?” You countered.

“Because I’ve never felt this way before.” He said, in that curt and honest way of his. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to hold him. You wanted to leave the apartment before you made a big mistake.

Instead, you said: “Oh.”

Your brain scrambled for the right thing to do, but your thoughts only flashed to Naoko’s advice. There was only one way to figure out how you truly felt; one way to make sure you didn’t hurt Ushijima. If you couldn’t be yourself, at home with who you were, then you could never be honest with anyone.

“What exactly would this relationship look like?” You asked.

“It can be anything you want it to be.” Ushijima said.

“No. I don’t want to use you like that.” You said, frowning.

“You wouldn’t be using me.” Ushijima paused to consider. “At least, not in any way I’m not letting you.”

You blushed at the implications. A shiver running down your spine. He really had no idea how his words affected you, and that was dangerous. You focused your thoughts on the less physical.

“Okay.” You said.

“Okay?” Ushijima asked.

“I want you. I don’t want to stop seeing you. That’s the truth,” you said, swallowing your pride and fear. “But I have a lot of things to figure out first, so until then, we take things slow.”

“As slow as you want.” Ushijima said, and this time, his little smile said maybe he understood his effect on you more than you gave him credit for.

—

You left Ushijima’s apartment immediately after the awkward dinner. You didn’t want to risk the temptation of staying over. You made excuses that your driver was waiting for you and practically ran out. As soon as you were in the car, you called Naoko, frantically babbling about the secret you wanted to share with her.

When you told Naoko you had a big secret to tell her, this was not what she expected. Granted, she hadn’t known what to expect, since she was technically supposed to know everything about your life since the day she started working for your mother’s company. But this? This wasn’t even a secret, at least, not to Naoko.

“This is your big secret?” She said, taking in the room you normally kept under lock and key.

“Naoko, please, I’m being very vulnerable with you, right now, and I’m trying to go somewhere with this, but I can’t if you’re going to judge me.” You said.

Naoko said your name sternly. “Who do you think helped you get all this equipment? Who do you think arranged for them to be brought to and assembled in your apartment?”

The older woman folded her arms, and cocked her hip. She surveyed the room, noting each and every major item she’d specifically helped your purchase. It’s not as though you’d put the room together all at once. You’d bought one or two items here and there, but their purpose was unmistakable. Did you really think she was that dumb?

“The…equipment companies?” You asked, suspecting you were very wrong.

“Did you really think you could set up an entire music production studio complete with recording equipment and customised soundproof booth in your apartment without me knowing? Who do you think handles your credit cards?”

You hesitated to answer. You’d never seen Naoko so flustered before. “...my mom?”

Naoko sighed. “You are so incredibly naïve sometimes.”

“I don’t get why you’re mad. I’m trying to tell you that I…make music.” You struggled to even talk about it. “I make music, and I really really like it, and I think…maybe…other people might like it too.”

That last part was news to Naoko. “I’m not mad.” She said placatingly. “I’m sorry. Sometimes, I just feel like you take me for granted. But nevermind, it’s not my place.” She smoothed her impeccably tailored business suit. “Other people have heard your music? I assumed this was a personal project kind of thing.”

“It is. It’s very personal.” You inhaled and looked aside guiltily. “Which is why I’ve been releasing my songs under a stage name.”

“What?” Naoko said.

“It’s not a big deal or whatever, but I have a few tracks out under a stage name, and people have said they’re pretty good. And these are people who have no idea who I even am! They just know me from my music.”

“That’s…that’s actually really great.” Naoko said, smiling. “Why haven’t you told anyone?”

“Who’s naïve now?” You said, your smile sharp. You plopped onto the seat in front of your computer setup, gesturing for Naoko to take the recliner nearby. “If mom found out, she’d just be soooo happy for me. She always thought modelling wasn’t something I could go that far with, but music? She could get me even further as an idol, a pop princess, just like she did when I was acting.” Naoko nodded.

“And then, if everyone had their way and marketed me as some actress-turned-model-turned-wannabe-singer? No one would take my music seriously. They wouldn’t even bother listening to my songs. I can take people criticising my looks. I mean it still hurts, but I’ve lived with it long enough. I can even take them criticising my acting, because I was a child back then, so who cares? But this?” You trailed a hand over your desk, scattered with notes and whatever recording equipment could fit there. “This matters, Naoko. It matters to me, so much, because it’s the only thing in my life that feels real. The photoshoots and commercials are fake. When I was a kid, I just did whatever anyone told me to do. But my songs are all me: my words, my melodies, my voice.”

“I understand.” Naoko said. “But this is too big a secret to keep. You could even argue that it’s the biggest part of you.”

You nodded, and said, “That’s why I had to tell you. I had to tell someone.” Naoko smiled knowingly.

“And because you want to tell Ushijima?” She said.

You slumped dramatically onto the table. “Yes.” You said, voice muffled, before sitting back up again. “Whatever thing we have going on now, nothing between us will ever be real if I don’t tell him. You’re right. This is too big a part of me. And…” You hesitated, embarrassed.

“And he makes me feel like…” You paused, digging deep. “He makes me see how fake my life is, and I don’t want to stay like that forever.”

“He makes you want to be honest with yourself.” Naoko supplied. You smiled and agreed.

“Another thing,” you said warily, and Naoko tensed. “I think it’s time I go public.”

“I thought you were worried about what people would say; what your mother would do?”

“That’s the thing, Naoko. I don’t want to do what she says anymore. I don’t want to be a child-star-turned-model-turned-idol. I just want to make music.” You sighed. “I know that the music industry is a million times worse than whatever I’m going through now, but if I don’t do this, I’ll be living a lie.”

“If you go public, what’s going to stop your mom from going ahead and marketing you that way anyway? What’s going to stop anyone from saying those things about you?” Naoko said. She was being so gentle, but it still hurt.

“That’s why I have to quit. I have to leave the agency.”

“Do you have any idea what that means?” Naoko asked.

“I know. I’ll have to start from scratch, even if I produce my own album and use my modelling contacts to find someone in the music industry willing to give me a chance, it’ll still be a rough start. I’ll have to significantly downsize my lifestyle, and…and I’ll lose you.” You said, then tried for a joke, “Which means I’ll have to start managing my own schedule, right?” You smiled.

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg.” Naoko said, massaging her temples. After a thoughtful pause, she finally said, “Your music better be good.”

“Oh, it’s good.” You said.

“Really.” Naoko said in a deadpan voice.

“You know how I know it’s good?” Your smile was wide and mischievous. “Because one of my listeners?” You paused for effect. “Is Aoi.”

“What?!” Naoko practically cackled. “And she has no idea it’s you?”

“Of course not! But she’s part of the reason a bunch of people found my music, because she shared one of my songs.”

“And this means your music is good because…?” Naoko asked sceptically.

“Because when Aoi shared that song, it blew up and I’ve had a lot of regular listeners since, and because as much as I hate her, Aoi has undeniably good taste, and everyone knows it.”

Naoko nodded. It wasn’t a question that, while Aoi wasn’t getting the awards-bait type roles she was going for, she was an excellent influencer. While you had your mom’s team running your socials, Aoi was doing it all herself and successfully. If she shared your music, it’s because it was genuinely good, and a bunch of her followers agreed.

Finally, Naoko asked, “So, can I listen to your music?”

#haikyuu x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #wakatoshi ushijima x reader #wakatoshi ushijima #ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi

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allandoflimbo · 3 years ago

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Ashens (Part 23)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6,000

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy and angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

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The world was on fire and no one could save me but you

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you

+ + +

“Don’t question acts of the daring and misinterpret it for insanity.

Simply thank the courages ones for their heart and strong character,

for not all are willing to do the good and get destroyed in the worst way,

not for their own benefit, but for others.”

+ + +

It starts in his fingers, a feeling of hot tingles and sporadic static. He plays with the condensation of the glass, gathering the wetness on the tips of his digits until they are completely numb from the cold. The hot tingles and static dissipate momentarily until they move up his arms and into the cavity where his heart beats.

It beats for the way you waltzed into the room, smelling like sweet strawberries and your shampoo.

It beats for the way it continues to ache and hope to feel your touch again.

If he’s quiet enough, he could hear it, too. It thumps away in his head, making his temples pulse and his palms sweat. He rubs the palm of his hand against the glass, too.

He looks up, dark eyes meeting your figure in your shared bedroom. Memories of the last few months fill his brain with a strong ripple of serotonin, gaze drifting towards the messy, fresh out the dryer, white sheets.

He’s feeling too much. It must be why he feels like he’s having a heart attack and why his mouth is insanely dry.

His eyes flicker back up to you again, and for a fraction of a second, he considers saying something.

Bucky doesn’t talk about his feelings much.

He always held it down.

He didn’t talk about how he felt when he watched his sister being taken from him, or when either of his parents died and he in result became an orphan.

Not much has changed since then, he thinks as he keeps looking at you.

You were moving around, unaware of his inner turmoil.

Bucky is fully convinced that no one on this earth detests him more than he detests himself. Not only does he hate himself for the things he’s done, but he can’t stand how he’s unable to talk about his feelings when he knows he needs to.

He can’t stand how weak he is and how he doesn’t have the guts to face it.

He’s watching you and he wants to speak up, but he can’t.

He detests himself for always running away from facing his demons.

This had a lot more to do than you going on a date. This was about everything. He knows there’s so much he needs to tell you.

He just wishes it were a lot simpler.

He doesn’t dare compare his issues to yours.

He knows each person has their own demons and their own complications to conquer, so he doesn’t dare compare. But, sometimes, he can’t help but think he is the world’s most horrible person, through no fault of his own.

Why couldn’t he have been stronger? Why couldn’t he have stopped himself from getting brainwashed? Why couldn’t he stop himself from doing all the things that he did?

Nobody knows what it’s like to live with the memories of being forced to train young girls who were taken from their families to fight for the KGB, one of them who later turns out being your friend. Not to mention then also shooting the same girl through the stomach on a bridge in Odessa. Nobody knows what it’s like to be forced to put a bullet between countless of innocent people’s eyes, some being young kids, cutting their innocent lives short.

Nobody understood what it was like to then be forced to kill someone’s parents, the same person who’s teams then welcomes you decades later into their home as family.

He experienced all of it without one goodbye to his blood family.

It doesn’t make sense to him how no one else could see what was going through his mind. Maybe he was messed up to the point where he could no longer be okay ever again.

Maybe.

But you, you had woken something inside of him that he thought had been long gone. You gave him a longing for communication, to talk about how he was feeling. For the first time in over half a century, because of you, he sees a potential light at the end of the tunnel.

You didn’t treat him like an ex assassin, a veteran, an avenger, or just a friend. You treated him like an imperfect man, taking him into your arms in spite of that.

Unbeknownst to you, you had taken his broken heart in your hands and held it tenderly, like a mother holding a newborn child. You taught it how to be happier, you taught it self forgiveness and preservation. You showed him how to be human, how to feel human desires that for so long he had held down.

He continues to watch you, swelling hard.

You showed me that it was okay. He thinks to himself.

You were his friend for much longer than you ever knew, and you had no idea.

He needed you more than you realized.

But you were right. It was time to let you be truly happy. After all, how could someone like him make you happy? You made it clear to him, time after time, that you’re both toxic together. He knows most of it was his fault, but he had changed. Unfortunately so had you and your feelings were just platonic now. It was a mess. Both of you, together, was a mess.

The amount of orgasms you shared don’t even make up for the hurt you’ve put each other through.

That’s what he needs to tell himself as he watches you from the living room, pulling the wool scarf tight around your neck to hide your tattoo, and tightening the lightweight white coat over your shoulders.

You were wearing a mid length dark red dress and short black heels. You looked great. The small smile your wore complemented you well, too. You looked happy.

Bucky knows he has no right to feel what he does as he watches you go back into the bathroom to touch up your hair.

It was a quarter past seven and the sun was setting. If this was two weeks ago, you two would probably be having sex right about now.

It had become routine after a certain point. He would probably have you bent over the sink, leaving finger indents on your hips.

Not anymore. That was over.

Ironically, it wasn’t even want he wanted to do with you as he watched you walk back in. He just wanted to grab you, run his hand through your hair and kiss your forehead.

The thought of wanting to do such a pure act catches him off guard and he feels a tightness in his chest grow hot. There was the static again in his fingers.

“I’ll be back in a few hours. We’re just going to have dinner at his place.” You say, slowly stepping into the lit living room.

Bucky’s on the sofa and you watch as his eyes leave yours to obviously linger down your body.

He clears his throat, reaching for the glass of water on the coffee table.

“Be safe.” He says softly.

You watch as he takes a sip of the water, his eyes meeting yours again over the glass. There’s a pull inside of you that wants you to ask him if he was okay.

“You’ll be okay here?”

He gives a curt nod, avoiding your eyes.

“I’ll be fine.” His tone is hard and straight to the point, but something was still clearly off with his behavior.

He’s been acting weird since a few days ago when you told him about Pietro.

You start playing with the sleeve of your coat, clearly stalling.

He had to open up to you.

“You have food?” You ask. The edge of Bucky’s lip perks up. You’re thankful for the almost smile.

“Yes.”

You watch him for a few more seconds. The mundane exchange is almost comical.

“I gave you his address, right? Just in case?”

Pretty blue eyes narrow at you curiously.

“Yes, I have it right there.” Bucky says, pointing over to the dining table below the blue A.I glow.

“Okay.” you say, nodding slowly, “Okay, I’ll see you later then.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything as you leave. He leans his elbows on each of his knees, bringing both his clasped hands together up to his chin.

He wants the static to go away. He wants to tell you everything.

He takes in a deep breath and runs a metal hand through his hair.

No, I wasn’t going to be okay without you here.

He picks up the control off the table and starts season nine of Friends.

It was going to be a long night.

+ + +

You were nervous. This was your first date.

Ever.

You also didn’t know what to expect from tonight. Sure, you liked Pietro. He was sweet, a good guy, and he was attractive. You wanted to give it a try. You were done being dragged down by one man that didn’t even love you the way you did.

It was time to move on.

Three soft knocks is how long it takes for the dark blue door of apartment 8C to swing open.

You’re immediately welcomed by the scent of something delicious and Pietro’s warm and bright smile.

“Hey, you.” He says with a delighted perk in his voice. He swings the door open wider for you to walk through, “Come in.”

Timidly, you walk into his inviting home.

The walls were beige and he had dark brown wooden floors. They were glossy instead of matte. To the left was a small kitchen with black cabinetry, and in front of you a small living room with a television and a black cotton couch.

You didn’t miss the hallway towards the far left the most likely led to a bedroom and bathroom.

Bedroom.

You feel your throat close up.

You were nervous.

“May I take your coat?” He asks sweetly, stretching out a hand to you. Your eyes go from his hand to his own eyes and his smile is contagious, “I’m just going to hang it in the closet. I won’t let it run away. Promise.”

You chuckle.

You give him a short nod, shrugging off your coat and handing it to him.

“Thank you.” You say.

There’s a small pause of silence.

“Wow, you look amazing.” He says quietly, taking in your dress. His eyes sparkled as he looked at you and you knew he was being sincere. You smile. “Do you want me to take your scarf, too?”

You instinctually reach for your scarf before pausing, your hands lingering on the fabric a bit longer than casual, “I’ll keep it,” your eyes meet and he squints at you, “It’s supposed to go with the dress.” You say quickly on your feet.

He tilts his head at you and chuckles.

“Okay. Well,” he looks down at his hand still holding your coat, “I’m just going to go hang this up. Feel free to to look around for a few seconds.”

You nod again, watching as he walks to a small closet towards the right, passed the tv.

You look over into the kitchen, and you see a neatly set table with two glass of wine.

There’s a pot on the stove with the lid on it, but the stove isn’t on.

You feel a warm and inviting hand on your upper back.

“I made, or should I say, I attempted,” he adds a chuckle that makes you smile, “to make some chicken parm.”

You giggle.

“I’m sure it’s delicious.”

You both walk over to the table which isn’t that far to the side and he pulls out one of the chairs for you. You thank him politely, taking a seat.

There’s the sharing of shy glances and awkward feet hitting each other under the table. You mutter out sorry’s.

Pietro clears his throat when he remembers he forgot the plates. You smile again as he apologizes and gets up.

“I’m the worst.” He says quickly.

“You’re not, relax. I forgot, too.” You play with the glass on the table, vividly remembering Bucky doing the same not too long ago.

You were picking up each others habits, hard.

“So, how’s it going with the whole situation at home? With your friend?”

You’re caught off guard by the indirect mention of Bucky and you try to casually grab the white napkin off the table, laying it over your lap.

“It’s going better.” You say, hoping it’ll make Pietro cut the topic short.You smooth the fabric over your legs, picking at it.

He looks over his shoulder to you and you can feel his eyes on you.

“Really? That’s good. I’m happy to hear that. I know it was rough for you. I hated seeing you like that.” That makes two of us, you want to say. There’s another pause. “You’re quiet today.” He notes, placing your plate in front of you. You’re hit with an intense wave of nausea as the delicious smell peaks up into your nose. You look away from the plate swallowing hard, “You okay?”

You clear your throat and swallow and swallow.

“Yeah I’m fine,” the bile lays in your belly as the smell continues to drive into your head, making you dizzy and sweat, “Do you have some water?” You croak out, trying to push your chair a little away from the table. It scrapes angrily against the floor, and if it wasn’t for how sick you were feeling, you would be apologizing.

“Yeah, yeah of course.” He says quickly, moving around the kitchen and fixing you a glass.

He hands it to you and you take some heavy gulps. It’s cold and slices through your throat. It lays into your stomach uncomfortably but you prefer it over a dry and heavy tongue.

You place it back down on the table, taking a deep breath. You feel the sweating start to dissipate and your stomach slowly settles.

You bring your palm to your head and quickly blink away.

You hated throwing up.

“Sorry, about that.”

He chuckles and gives you a smile as he takes his own seat across from you, “That’s okay. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

You weren’t too sure, but you don’t say that. “Yeah, I don’t know what that was,” you look back down at the plate that begins to look somewhat appetizing again, “Believe me, it wasn’t the food. This smells delicious and looks delicious.” He opens the glass the red wine and offers some to you. You quickly shake your head, giving him a wave of rejection with your hand. Just the thought of wine made your stomach turn again, “I’ll stick to the water for now.” He nods and pours himself a glass, “Sorry if I’m quiet. I’m a bit nervous.”

“Nervous why?”

You shrug, digging a fork into your chicken and swirling it around.

“I don’t know. I’m just like that.”

He says your name and you stop poking your fork to look up at him, “It’s me. We’ve been friends for a few months now. I’m not some stranger.”

You smile. He was right.

“I know, trust me. It’s just…” you think for a moment and then start laughing, “God, we’re literally on a date, during the apocalypse, like this is just weird, ya know?”

Pietro frowns.

“Apocalypse? We’re safe in here, in these walls. Everyone is safe in here.”

Your smile drops.

You stare at him and begin to wonder if he’s actually being serious. Was the majority of the people in here really convinced that this was it? That everything was perfect? Was Hydra really that capable? Part of you is proud of your parent’s work because you truly were safe because of what they built, but the world was still out there, living. There was still more. This wasn’t supposed to be a permanent solution.

There were people out there still dying, trying to survive. And these people had no idea, including Pietro.

You realize you’re quickly going into dark territory and you don’t want Pietro digging into what you were trying to say, accidentally blowing your cover.

“You’re right. I don’t know why I said that.” You say quickly. You bring the chicken to your mouth, taking a small and careful bite, “This is so good.” You say after chewing and swallowing.

“I’m glad you liked it. I made some lava cakes for desert, too.”

You laugh.

“Are you a cook?”

“Nah. Just watch a lot of Tiny Kitchen.”

You perk a brow.

“Tiny Kitchen?”

“You’ve never heard of Tiny Kitchen?”

You laugh, placing your fork down on the plate.

“No, what the hell is it? A small kitchen?”

“Literally what it is. I’ll show it to you afterwards.”

“Okay.” You grin.

You look down at your plate again, wanting to go in for another bite, but for some reason you just can’t.

+ + +

He doesn’t get past episode three. He can’t.

Not when all thoughts of you clouded his mind. He knows Pietro is good people, so he’s entirely not concerned about that.

He knows he’s jealous. He knows that.

The jealousy mixed in with the anticipation of how the rest of the mission will play out worries him.

He wanted you home and near him, but since that wasn’t going to happen, he was home by himself, glooming.

He knows he needed a distraction right away so he picks up some of his things from the dining table, slides on a light jacket, and makes his way towards the tower.

He knows the blueprint of the tower already and he’s able to navigate himself into stairwell of the apartment on the top floor.

After weeks of dissecting, you both found out that Ashens’ father, Ashen, and his mother don’t live here with the boy. For safety precautions, which are obvious why, he’s being housed in under high security and under the supervision of some au pair who is as clueless of his importance as the day is young.

Bucky knows that what he’s about to do borders on breaking boundaries, and downright creepy.

But this was a situation he would qualify as desperate times comes to desperate measures.

Bucky’s able to bypass security, taking a security outfit off a ‘poor’ victim (he scoffs) as he does soon.

He’s just outside the boy’s bedroom when he hears the nanny tell Ashens goodnight.

When she’s leaving she tells Bucky in a heavy Bulgarian accent, clearly thinking he’s just a regular guard, that Ashens is about to go to sleep. Bucky keeps his head down and nods.

The clueless ar pair goes the opposite way, presumably to her own bedroom.

Bucky waits a few moments before knocking on the boy’s door.

He hears the little boy give out permission to come in. Bucky opens the door.

The bedroom is plain and depressing. There’s a bed with plain white sheets, a small nightstand, and a large window. There are no toys and nothing that would show any proof that a child resided here.

The room is not one he would expect for a boy Ashens’ age.

The little boy sits up in bed, his eyes squinting at the figure in his doorway.

“Hello.” The boy squeaks out.

Bucky practically laughs at how easy it was to get here. For a boy they are trying so hard to keep protected from just anyone, it was quite easy ending up just a few feet away from him.

Bucky’s had his fair share of experiences with kids, having a little sister himself. He knows he has to do this differently.

“Hi.” Bucky says lightly, almost too cheerfully.

The boy continues to stare at him as Bucky closes the door behind him, but not letting it close shut just yet.

“Who are you?”

Bucky slowly takes off his halo looking helmet and the boy squints at Bucky’s revealed face.

Bucky tucks the helmet under his arm and smiles.

“Can you keep a secret?”

The boy looks at him for a few more seconds before nodding slowly.

It’s not until Bucky is closer to the boy that his eyebrows shoot up,

“Wait. I know who you are.” Bucky can’t tell if the boy is excited or surprised, but the reaction makes Bucky’s chest swell.

This might go down easier than he expected.

“I -I was so little when I had the toy but,” the boy starts to talk excitedly and Bucky has to hide a growing smile, “Because I can’t have toys anymore. Not since we moved here. I was little but I remember,” the boy and Bucky both narrow their eyes at each other as if it’s a game to who would say it first, “it’s captain America. You ever heard of captain America?”

Bucky bites his lip.

“No, never.” He says sarcastically. “Oh, he’s the best. You look like his friend, but I don’t remember his name. He used to be the winter soldier and then he became good.”

Bucky’s heart swells again. The boy’s joy was so pure.

“Oh, yea?”

“Yeah. Dad didn’t like them vey much, though,” his face drops as he looks away from Bucky, “I didn’t like how happy he was when they all died. But no one knows that just us I think,” when Ashens looks up again, Bucky’s face is more solemn this time, “Are you sure you’re not the winter soldier?” The boy whispers the question.

Bucky considers his next words carefully. He places the helmet at the feet of the boy’s bed.

“If I told you I was?”

“I would be surprised because I though you were dead, and also I would be confused. Because why you here?”

Bucky nods. He looks away and then back at Ashens.

“Would you tell your dad?” He asks quietly. This was important.

The boy looks at him for a bit before answering.

“No. He would kill you. Daddy’s not on the good side.”

“And you believe I’m on the good side, right?”

“Yes. You’re an Avenger.”

Bucky bites his lip and looks around the room. This boy was good. It angered him that his own father wanted him killed. Now, more than ever, he wanted to rescue this boy.

“Can you trust me?” Bucky asks, suddenly serious.

The boy nods.

“Am I in trouble?” He asks timidly. “What do you mean?” “Ae you here to save me, sir?”

The question broke Bucky’s heart, but he nods.

“I trust you.” The boy’s eyes dart down Bucky’s left side, “Can I feel you arm?” The edge of Bucky’s lips perk up as he takes a seat, “and what does it feel like to hold the shield? Did you really know Iron Man? Black Panther always said —”

+ + +

By the time Bucky is back you’re already home in your pajamas tucked into bed.

“Hey. Where’d you go?” You ask him as he takes off his coat, draping it over one of the chairs in the dining area.

He kicks off his shoes and reaches back, pulling off his shirt. He walks over to the closet for a new one.

“I met Ashens.”

You raise your brows at this. You knew it was part of the plan to happen, but you didn’t expect it to be today.

“What?”

Bucky also pulls out a new and clean pair of boxers, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah. We spoke for a bit.” “And he didn’t recognize you?” “No, he did,” Bucky says simply, eyes going over to you. You looked so pretty, comforter pulled up under your clothed breasts, a book in your hands, and a messy bun in your hair. He wanted you. He looks away, remembering where you had just been, “He knows I’m here. He won’t tell his dad." “How can you be so sure?” “I’m an Avenger, aren’t I? That’s what everyone tells me, has been telling me.” He says it bitterly. Bucky sighs, closing the closet door and then walking over to the bed near you, “Because I made him a promise that I was here to save him. I think he knows his dad is bad news. He’s a smart kid. He knows his dad hits his mom, too.” Bucky’s voice is soft.

“So you trust he’ll keep this between us?”

“I do.”

You nod. You watch Bucky’s eyes as his stare stays on you, unnerving.

“And you?” You voice shakes as you ask, “How are you? Ya know, after?”

Bucky nods his head.

“I’m alright, ya know? I — ,” something happens to him that you had never seen before. A wave of happiness washes over Bucky’s face like a fresh cup of lemonade. His eyes shine and a bright smile fills his face. Even his voice sounds perkier, “It was just so nice talking to him. He’s such a sweet kid. I know we’re doing the right thing,” his eyes meet yours again and his voice lowers to a deep tone, “We’re both going to walk away from this mission with more than we thought.” It’s the first time he’s said that you are both going to walk away from the mission together, and not just you. He knows that. Bucky clears his throat, “You definitely won’t run into his father. He’s not living with him to avoid attention and possible abductions. Ashens is a literal rapunzel right now.”

“Good. That’s good.” Obviously it wasn’t. But it was good for the both of you. You had less chances of running into Ashen.

Bucky takes in a deep breath when he realizes his eyes are lingering on your collarbones for far too long.

“How was your date?” He actually doesn’t want to even know, the thought of you and Pietro makes him sick, but he knows he needs to show courtesy. They can’t ignore it forever. “It was fine. I wasn’t feeling too well, though—“

Bucky’s eyes narrow.

“—Oh no, I’m sorry.”

“Couldn’t eat. But,” you took a deep breath and eyed the hallway, "Brought some in a small Tupperware if you want it. It’s in the kitchen.”

Bucky ignores the flutter in his heat at the mention that you thought of him. Thought of him enough to bring the leftovers for him.

He smiles.

“What is it?” “Chicken Parm.” You watch as Bucky continues to watch you, eyes still sparkling. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. You’re happy, right?” Your eyes flicker away for a moment.

“Y-yeah.”

He knows he’s not fine so he lies.

“Then I’m fine. You looked great by the way.” He adds quickly.

You tilt your head at him and he tilts his back.

Damnit, he needed you.

“Yeah?” You ask hoarsely.

He wanted you.

“You’re glowing.” He says.

+ + +

Jazz and burlesque shows were the epitome of everything she had lived for up until she was sixteen years old. The smell of handmade lace garters and expensive perfume still lingered in the back of her mind, bringing her a feeling of contentment and a strange longing for the past.

Nostalgia would overwhelm her as she looked on at what was the exact contrast to her innocence – her mother’s hugs. She missed those nights where she’d play some 12’s of her beat up vinyl on her record, the scratches adding to Peggy Lee’s voice a twinge of imperfection that made it the perfect tone.

With nothing on but her undergarments, and a pair of leg garters accompanied with knee high black stockings, she’d open her closet to a huge collection of gorgeous cocktail dresses. A couple handful landed just above her knees, not many past her mid shin - Scandalous and mildly scandalous. Her parents would kill her if they ever found out she even owned them (let alone have them in their home) so she kept those hidden in a little pile in the back corner of the wardrobe.

She had every right to be terrified for many reasons. It’s not that she was not loyal or a rebel, per say. She was born and raised into a Christian family, all strict rules of modesty and heavy morals applied to her daily life. She was always daddy’s little girl in the simplest sense possible.

She wouldn’t ever dare roll her eyes at him or purposefully make him disapprove of her, ever. Sure, she was raised in a rich family, so she was used to getting everything she always wanted. Material things being at the top of the list. Even then she remained as humble as possible.

Especially when she thought her strong faith was behind it all.

Do well for God, he gives back in return, right? At least that’s what her naïve self believed at the time. But she’d never admit it to her family that she now thought otherwise, especially to her mom.

If anything, God was now banning them all to Hell anyway.

Her vanity was those of every girl’s dreams. Drawers filled with everything you could only wish of having. Inside were lingerie of every shade (from fiery red to pure jet black, like the night sky in the city), style, and earrings of every pearl and diamond crystal variety you could think. Her favorite would always be the garters.

She’d clip each of the four clasps into place just above her knees with her nimble fingers and then she’d sit opened legged in front of the mirror.

Diligently, and with prestige dexterity, she’d apply her blood red lipstick and her four inch black heels.

After an o shape with her lips around her fingers and a loud pop, she’d walk around her room and close her eyes, envisioning herself as a burlesque girl and a sensual song playing in the background. After all, she had all the right in the world to be the exact opposite at night than what she was during the day. Morally, at least.

She still remained as the same sweet, innocent, and faithful young girl she always was. But she had big hopes and dreams, especially in film and dance. God should be okay with dreams, she thought.

When she had learned the truth it was just short of her 20th birthday. She unwontedly found out that her father and brother were different souls at night, too. She wished she never found out that everything that had been lying in front of her had been a lie, and instead of life being a gifted blessing it was instead a bloody carcass hades.

Their life wasn’t one she liked to admit to partaking in. There were times where she would trick into telling herself that they weren’t doing it. She’d trick herself into thinking that way so that when she saw her dad that night, she’d be able to surpass the strong smell of whiskey and gun powder and kiss him goodnight.

Jimmy would roll his eyes with a shove past her shoulder.

As much as she detested it, she knew that without them, they wouldn’t be living in one of the most beautiful homes in all of Manhattan in complete safety. It was because of them that she wasn’t living out in the slums. She tried to divide that part of harsh reality from her brain as much as she could. Eventually, the pros outweighed the cons.

Maybe it was the fact that her body had finally developed into a women’s body. Her breasts were now fully perked and her legs were long and porcelain gorgeous; all she knew was they figured she could be put to good use.

At first she was repulsed by her own father’s comment, but if it meant having dinner that night and not getting killed, she would swallow those nagging feelings and take it head on. It never lasted too long anyway, and all she had to do was stand there and be her brother’s accessory.

When her father brought her into the business, he told her she would thank him one day when she had children of her own- she’d have all the men of the lower east side wrapped around her pretty little finger.

She was alright with it, until something happened that she would never forget. She had to swallow the repulsive bile and control herself not to run away then and there. She was too far in and knew way too much.

It was just another Tuesday night and she had been sitting at the dinner table, when both her mom and dad had stepped out of the dining room and into the kitchen. She ate her soup quietly, not being able to stop thinking about going back to her room to play burlesque, when Jimmy had turned to her.

At first it was the sudden motion that caught her attention, it had made a strand of blonde hair fly off her arm. Then it was the feral look in his eyes.

“Daisy,” his voice was low and dangerous. Daisy knew that tone very well because it was the tone all the other men used on their nights of missions. She was terrified and disgusted. Wide eyes trailed from her eyes to her full red lips and she felt a cold rigid finger against the heat of her skin on her upper thigh, pushing the fabric slightly up. She gulped.

Jimmy smiled, “You gorgeous thing.”

She thought about telling her father but she knew that if he found out, the one partnership that was bringing them the most cash would be jeopardized and it would have to be terminated and he’d be more than upset. She knew when her dad got angry, it was not good. It’s was messy and bad.

Back at dinner, her father would say grace before they ate, all of them hand in hand, and her mom would sit there quietly, a terrified and exhausted look in her smiles. She had heavy bags that weren’t there years ago, and her hair that used to always be done was now up in a messy clip, the baby hairs hanging against her wrinkled forehead, messy and unruly. But still she managed to smile, even if it wasn’t a real smile. It was all a stupid act.

It reminded Daisy of how she herself was when she was 16 - pretending to be oblivious to what her family were doing to the innocent. And so she hated her mom for that, for being just like her.

She felt disgusted in herself, she felt disgust for her family. Oh how she missed those days of when she was a child, before she even knew the truth. It was all so much simpler back then and she was so much happier. The worst it used to get was when her mother would tell her stories about when she was a nurse back in WWI.

She had wanted to be like her mom at first. Her mom was quiet, humble, caring, and extremely gracious. It’s what made her such a good person to have back in the war to help the soldiers- she was strong willed and knew she could help and would in her best ability do so. But those stories made Daisy question why any man in his right mind would want to do such a thing to their own body- putting themselves at such a risk.

Sure, she was privileged by riches, but problems didn’t have to be solved by violence. There must be other ways, like prayer or simply believing.

Her mother would tell her the graphic stories of the injuries that made Daisy queasy and fidget in her seat. She loved her mom’s qualities and how willing she was to help others who were injured and almost dying, but it still made no sense to her.

When daisy questioned her concerned to her mother she had simply said:

“Don’t question acts of the daring and misinterpret it for insanity. Simply thank the courages ones for their heart and strong character, for not all are willing to do the good and get destroyed in the worst way, not for their own benefit, but for others.”

To this day, Daisy wondered if her mom was indirectly referencing her own father- him lacking thereof.

Next, she wondered about when her mom stopped believing her own words.

Daisy wondered if she’d ever meet one one day - a soldier. Someone willing to get destroyed. Or if her mom had been lying and all men are the same, evil like her father and brother.

But she was evil, too.

No, I don't wanna fall in love.

A/N: yes. she’s pregnant.

@snakeeatery17 @utterlyhopeful-fics , @marvelfan1017, @iheartsebastianstan , @annathesillyfriend , @redhairedfeistynerd, @perksofbeingabookworm, @amyrose051, @meegggoooo, @morganclaire4 , @captainchrisstan, @bxndys , @shoesonpointe , @writerwrites, @rainbowkisses31, @lindatreb , @littlemissner98 , @dezzylou24, @ayeitslelee , @hardygal69 , @emmabarnes , @redbarn1995@thequeenreaders@ilovemysupersoldiers@maximumplaidzonknerd@ceapa-mica @s-trawberryv-eins@buckysknifecollections@sobangie@lindatreb@theseuscmander@nervous-plant @wildmoonflower @aya-fay@appreciating-fanfics@kaitlynisinfinite@justreadingfics@kaitieskidmore1 @mrsdancing @everythingiloveandcherish @shinykoalacat @dragongirl31 @kaitlynisinfinite @alwaysclassyeagle

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky x you #Bucky Barnes smut #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #tfatws fanfic #winter soldier

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maybege · 2 years ago

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ok but May, imagine the absolute *POTENTIAL* for 8 and 11 together, especially with someone like Paz... imagine it starts with like you getting stalked or whatever and Paz just being all I can help and then the fake dating requires him to spend time over at your place and he's basically damn babe you live like this and you get married because he has health benefits and the absolute PINING because omg you're not a gotdamn charity case and he's all i'm honourable the ANGST because surely your patheticness winning him over would be like an improbable cosmic joke and oh dear oh me oh my

you're sick and I'm scared I won't be able to help you, because I'm not family, so we marry so I can legally take care of you + I'm getting harrassed by someone, please play my partner!

Okay okay okay I LOVE that combo BUT what about the delicious other way around? Reader is the one who is sick and in need of a serious health care update while Paz keeps getting harassd by his ex-partner (+ unfortunately also his family) to just get back together already because he is not getting any younger and he should settle down.

And then they accidentally meet at a cofee shop, overhearing each other's conversations on the phone and realizing "wait a minute - we could help each other out". and they do! they get hitched at the courthouse with a deal that the marriage is gonna last a year, until their troubles are gone. no harm, no foul 😌

But of course, things get complicated soon enough when feelings come into the mix 🥰

send me a prompt and a character i write for and let's have some fun!

#may answers #paz vizsla x reader

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jimlingss · 5 years ago

Text

Sugar and Coffee [8]

Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

➜ Words: 3.3k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

You always thought you would be happy to see him again. To come face to face with the man who you miss the most — who you’ve yearned to see so much. Like reuniting with a close friend who you’ve lost contact with. Like rediscovering a piece of yourself that you had lost. But you didn’t know it would be so painful. That your heart would be so heavy. “H-hey.” “Hey.” Seokjin smiles and your heart stutters but then constricts. It’s hard to breathe. “Are you on your way to class?” You hold your books closer to your chest as if they could do anything to protect you. Your eyes sweeping over his features, trying to freshen your memories of him. You can’t recall the last time you heard the sound of his voice. “Y-Yeah. Are you?” “I’m on my way to the library to meet up with some people for a group project,” he says casually with a good-natured smile. “Oh. A group project already?” “Yeah, I know right.” Jin sighs lightly, lips falling into a slight pout. “Well it’s my last ever semester, so it’s the last push.” “Totally. I...get it.” “I should go now before I’m late. It was nice seeing you, Y/N.” You nod and without waiting a beat, he brushes past you, continuing down the hall. You hate it. The way he looked at you, talked to you so nonchalantly, how he didn’t even blink thrice. Jin was friendly, but you know him — and he treated you the way he treats strangers. There weren't any softened gazes, gentle words. None of his actions had a trace of lingering feelings. His polite smile is the same one that’s reserved for mere acquaintances. Distant. You’re no less than a stranger to him. And as you watch Jin’s backside fading down the corridor, you quickly wipe away the tears that shed down your cheeks. // “You ran into him?” You nod, toying with the hem of your sweater. “That’s great news,” Jungkook murmurs from the corner of his mouth, preoccupied with choosing a game. “Yeah, I know, right?” You're stiff, but he doesn't pay enough attention to notice. You’re sitting on the floor of Jungkook’s dorm room, knees gathered together as you watch him set up. He’s finally cleaned up after you insulted him that he was a pig living in a pigsty, and he was offended enough to clean up after himself and do his laundry. Jungkook switches on his PS4 and flops down on his small couch with the controller. He glances up at you when there’s ongoing silence and realizes he should say something more. “That means there’s hope, right? If he’s willing to talk to you and all. I know a lot of exes who would run in the other direction.” “Yeah. That’s true, I guess.” Jungkook is optimistic. “If you keep talking to him, who knows, you might get back together before you even realize.” There’s a loud knock on the door, someone’s fist banging on the surface. The boy in his gray sweatpants and black, boxy shirt sighs, gets up and opens the door. The person on the other side glares at him. “Dude, about fucking time. Was standing out there for an eternity.” “Shut up, I literally took ten seconds.” “Yea, but ten seconds we could’ve used playing. Hey, Y/N!” Hoseok grins, plopping down on the couch and stealing Jungkook’s controller. Jimin follows in, greeting you with a smile, and Taehyung and Yoongi are the last with the former harshly nudging the latter forward. “Alright, alright,” Yoongi grunts quietly and then faces you with his hands dug into his hoodie pocket. “Y/N. I wanted to apologize for my behaviour last time.” He looks less sorry and more disgruntled and reluctant, but it’s enough to amuse you. You snort. “It’s no big deal.” “Okay, cool.” Yoongi exhales and sits beside you. Taehyung shakes his head but redirects his attention to Jimin when he steals his favourite controller. “Hey, hey, hey, paws off, bro.” “What?” “That’s mine.” “Who says?” “I wrote my name at the back in pencil. Look. See?” “You wrote on my controller?” Jungkook is outraged, snapping into their argument. In the meanwhile, Yoongi scrolls through his phone and notices you’re blankly staring at Jungkook's old flat screen — the one he stole from his parent’s home months ago and somehow set it up here. “I meant it.” “What?” “I know it looked like Taehyung made me,” Yoongi mumbles, “Which he did. But I meant to apologize anyway. Eventually. I know I’m an ass.” “You’re an honest one,” you admit with a small smile. If there was anyone who was going to be frank and truthful, it would be Yoongi. He won’t sugar coat it, won’t string pretty words together to make you feel better, so that’s why you pick him to inquire, “Can I ask you a question, Yoongi?” “Sure.” “Do you think I’ll ever be able to get back together with Jin?” “No.” His gaze connects with yours. “You won’t. Usually people break up for a reason and that reason always stands.”

Two weeks pass by as you ignore the thoughts lingering in the back of your mind. You overlook it like an assignment on your desk that needs to be done or like that messy drawer you should clean out but keep procrastinating on. And it’s easy to distract yourself when the entire school is stirred. Of course it would be. After all, the most competitive holiday was coming up. “What are you going to make for Valentines?” “Me?” You blink. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it yet….” The atmosphere hyped — even the dining hall is louder, the air buzzing. The holiday simply dedicated to love has long been replaced by alumni years ago and became a competition. After all, this was the place where everyone could make sweets after all. No longer was Valentine chocolates simply melting chocolate from the store and pouring them into molds — every single person here can properly judge the quality, taste, texture, flavour, and the presentation. According to rumours, the tradition started between three people, specifically when a girl told her two potential suitors that she would become the Valentine of whoever baked better. It sounds like some ridiculous Shakespearean tragedy, but as people went head to head to win the affections of their crushes — it essentially evolved into a competition. And at this point, it doesn’t matter who gives it to who. It’s who bakes it better. “I’m still debating if I want to do raspberry possets or raspberry religieuse,” Taehyung hums, chin resting in his propped up hand, and he turns to his side. “Which one do you like, Yoongi?” “Why the fuck do you care what I like?” “Well obviously because I’m going to make it for you,” he giggles. Yoongi glares. “Fuck off.” “Who else am I supposed to give it to? You have no one, I have no one.” “What about Jimin?” you ask, trying to hold back laughter with said brunette. “He has his mom.” “Hey,” Jimin whines, “I have the Valentine’s Day fundraiser at the hospital this year too.” “So you’re not going to make anything for your mom?” he deadpans. “Well, no.” Jimin pouts. “I’m going to make her red velvet cupcakes.” “Don’t make fun of him,” you chide Taehyung and turn to the other. “That’s really cute, Jimin.” Jimin grins, eyes crinkling into half moons. “Don’t worry, Taehyung can say whatever he wants. He’s just jealous my mom’s the best. She raised me all on her own and I wouldn’t be here without her.” “Okay, I’ll admit she’s really nice,” Taehyung has a dreamy expression. “I miss her warm hugs.” “That’s weird,” Jimin deadpans, pleasant smile switching into a face of comical disgust. “Don’t talk about my mom like that, dude.” You laugh and look over at the sleepy man lazily chewing on his mac and cheese. It’s always funny to watch Yoongi eat. He looks physically pained to chew and swallow — you wonder if he would blend all of his food to just drink it if he could. “Are you going to make anything, Yoongi?” “No. Who would I give it to?” He ignores Taehyung when he exclaims ‘me’. You direct your attention to Hoseok and he shrugs. “I might...make lemon and poppy seed cupcakes or strawberry rhubarb shortbread bars.” “For who?” Jungkook asks, brows raised. “Uh, no one.” But it’s obvious that the answer is too suspicious, so he gives in with a sigh. “I owe Y/N’s friend, Aeri, a favour, so I’ll probably make something for her.” “Ooh, I haven’t heard you talk about Y/N’s friend before.” Taehyung leans in closer, eyes glistening. “Shut up,” Hoseok quips. “What about you, Y/N?” “I...haven’t decided if I will or not. Maybe I’ll make something for Jin.” Yoongi’s eyes flicker up, brow cocking, and you stare back at him blankly. Jimin catches the quick exchange and intercepts. “You should tell Jungkook to make you his chocolate-covered strawberry cupcakes.” “Holy fuck, I remember those!” Taehyung slaps the table, startling both you and Jungkook. “Those was so fucking delicious, I thought I was going to cream my pants when I ate them. I can still taste it.” He slurps up the spit that’s accumulated in his mouth. Jungkook’s nose wrinkles. “No. It’s too much work to make that.” Taehyung bats his lashes. “You wouldn’t make it for us?” “That’s an even harder no.” “Psh. Valentine’s Day hater.” “Fuck off. It’s not my fault that the holiday is stupid.” “You just hate it because you’re alone.” You pat your friend on the back. “It’s okay, Jungkook. You’ll find love someday.” “Okay, fuck you too,” he spits without much malice, making Yoongi smirk. “Jungkook just knows his small package can’t satisfy any man or woman.” Yoongi’s insult rouses laughter from everyone and the man being grilled has his brows shot to his hairline. “For your information, I have a substantial size and I’m probably bigger than everyone here. Especially you, Mr. five foot nine.” You blanch. “Gross.” But while Yoongi doesn’t seem injured by the retort, Jimin’s the one who’s sitting straight and he whines, “Why do you have to bring height into this?” They ignore him in favour of Taehyung’s questioning, “Really? Bigger than everyone here?” “Okay fine.” Jungkook points at Taehyung. “Except you.” You look between the pair of them. “Did you guys have a dick measuring contest or what?” “We will not speak of the past,” Jungkook deadpans, making you laugh even more. // You know that you shouldn’t. With what Yoongi’s told you, with what you know yourself, you shouldn’t go out of your way to do something so unnecessary. You shouldn’t put your heart on your sleeve to get hurt again when it’s not going to be worth it. But in your life, there've been a thousand shouldn’ts and you’ve always grasped onto the one should. It never hurts you to try, and that’s how you’ve made it this far. “Hey, Jeon.” You catch up to him. Jungkook’s legs are unbearably longer than yours and when he walks fast it puts you out of breath within seconds. Luckily, he sees you and has the decency to slow down. “What?” “I need your help.” Jungkook’s steps slow even more until he outright stops in the middle of the hallway. He looks so apprehensive, you have an urge to slap that expression off his face. “Hey! It’s not like I’m not going to ask you to kill someone for me!” “Yeah, well, the last time you asked for a favour, we destroyed a kitchen trying to temper chocolate. I’d rather you kill me, thank you very much.” “Pretty please? Promise it’s not bad.” “Ew, ew. Don’t look at me like that and stop pouting, you’re not cute.” You frown at him. “Look it’s not a huge, huge thing, promise.” “What is it?” “Well, you’re Jungkook, World’s Best Chocolatier, right?” You nudge him with your elbow and it only makes him more suspicious with how you’re thickly laying down the praise. “And you know chocolate hates me. I definitely don’t know about it as well as you do either, so I need you to bestow your gifts onto me—” “What is it, lady? Get a move on! I don’t have all day.” “Can you help me make something for Jin?” Jungkook pauses. He stares at you. Maybe his brain finally died — not like there is anything to die considering it’s always been a little on the empty side. But then he finally opens his mouth. “What are you planning?” “Just something simple. Like truffles. What do you think?” Jungkook hesitates, then he looks at you. “Fine.” “Really?” “Yeah, yeah.” He waves his hand away, but you grin at him. “You know you’re my best friend, right, Jungkook?” “Yeah, well, it’s something I never really signed up for,” your best friend mutters and continues walking while telling you that you’ll owe him and that means more notes from multiple lectures. But it’s worth it. On the fourteenth, right on Valentine’s Day, you meet with Jungkook. He audibly sighs when he sees you tie up the back of your apron. “What?” “Nothing. I just can’t believe I’m spending Valentine’s with you.” “I thought you didn’t care about the holiday.” “I don’t. But that still doesn’t mean this isn’t lame. Whatever. The quicker we get this done, the quicker I can leave and avoid all this.” He motions around, but you know what he means. Love is in the air and it’s sickening — couples were holding hands, kissing each other on the tips of their noses, rubbing their cheeks against one another, dialing up the PDA to an uncomfortable amount. But you can’t blame them. You and Seokjin were once like that. “Do you know how to make ganache?” “Do I know how to make ganache,” you mimic him mockingly. “Of course I do! What am I, an idiot?!” “Well, you didn’t know how to temper chocolate so you tell me.” You glare at him. You would mouth off but can’t risk him storming out. The two of you gather the eight ounce semi-sweet chocolate, a half cup of whipping cream, cocoa powder and some vanilla. Jungkook helps you heat the cream to a simmer in a small saucepan, looking over your shoulder at every step along the way. While you’d usually mind the way he’s intruding in your personal bubble, you don’t want to get anything wrong. “Make sure it doesn’t burn.” “It’s not going to burn.” “You said that last time.” You snap. “Keep bringing up last time and this will be the last time you step into the kitchen, Jeon.” A second later, you’re begging Jungkook not to leave. But thankfully, he has enough mercy and lets you off with a warning. The pair of you continue making the ganache, placing the chocolate in a bowl before pouring the cream and adding the vanilla to it. You allow it to stand for a few minutes before stirring it into a smooth, deep mixture. You place the ganache in the fridge for half an hour to chill. In the meanwhile, you clean up the mess and wash whatever dishes you have. Jungkook, on the other hand, shows you Yoongi’s reaction of Taehyung proposing to him with some cupcakes in front of campus in which the former man straight out walks away. Jimin who’s filming is giggling hard enough that the camera is unsteady, but his laughter is infectious and makes the both of you grin. Jungkook says he’s glad he wasn’t there lest Taehyung turned to him and started to declare his fake affections and cause a crowd to gather. Apparently it’s happened before. When the ganache is ready, Jungkook helps you roll it into balls and dust with cocoa powder. You pull out a box you had prepared to place them in, and you could not be prouder when it’s complete. It looks like a product that you could buy in-store. Simple yet elegant. “All done.” “All done,” you repeat after him, viewing your final product. Chocolate doesn’t hate you so much when you’re with Jungkook, you realize. “He’ll love it.” “Yeah….” You can imagine it — calling out Jin’s name. He’d spin around, regard you with his surprise. You’d extend your arms to give him the box. You’d try to show through this small gesture that you still love him, but you wouldn’t speak the words in case the moment would be ruined. But with your courage mustered, you’d tell him that you miss him in your life. That you don’t want to be strangers anymore. Whether that means remaining friends or being lovers again. But you know that it’s just your fantasy. A delusion — your optimistic imagination running wild with the semblances of hope still left within you. A sweet dream you would have in your slumber only to wake up to reality. The grief of your heartbreak morphed into a wishful thinking. The image and scenario you’ve constructed in your mind is simply part of a chapter in your life that would never happen. “He wouldn’t take it,” you whisper. It's a truth that’s hard to face, that you’ve been running from and turning yourself blind to. But you know Seokjin. After nearly two years together, you know the kind of polite smile he gives to strangers. You know how he treats acquaintances. You know when he’s being distant, how he acts when things don’t matter to him anymore. And you know that— “He wouldn’t….” He would never take this. He would never accept the chocolates you’ve made on Valentine’s. You would never be able to muster the courage to tell him how much you miss him. And he would never agree to being friends after your extensive history together. Your head lowers, and tears drip down your cheeks. Jungkook is rendered speechless but you feel his hand on your shoulder. He squeezes comfortingly. You sniffle, wiping your face with the back of your hand, and you take a truffle to throw into your mouth. You chew in your cheek and look at Jungkook with your reddened, teary eyes. “I-If he won’t eat it, we should.” That’s how you end up on the floor of the kitchen with Jungkook beside you. The two of you are leaning against the kitchen island, hidden away from the window of the door and any intrusive eyes peering through. The tips of your fingers are stained with melted chocolate — the fruits of your labour gone in an instant. The realization sinks in. After months of what you’ve tried to keep a hold on it. Having hoped aimlessly that you could change this back around. What had shattered into sand and slipped between your fingertips, but you tried to catch it again. It hits you in an instant. Harder than it ever has. “It’s really over, isn’t it, Jungkook?” you ask in a murmur, in a broken voice. “It’s over.” The relationship ended. Any form of a relationship with Seokjin is gone forevermore. Jungkook turns his head, gazing at your profile. He pats you on the back. He’s learnt long ago that he wasn’t very good at speaking, but that his words don’t mean as much as his actions do. So in silence, Jungkook eats the truffles with you. It’s not bad, he muses internally. You’re getting better at chocolate despite how you never had a knack for it. Well, technically he made them but whatever, your effort still means something. He chews and keeps to himself how the chocolate truffle strangely tastes sweet and bitter, like both sugar and black coffee.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook reader insert #jungkook as a cutie baking boy who doesn't know to deal with emotions #and oc as a person who has too many emotions lol #Y'ALL no spoilers but this is the turning point #cue the song past the point of no return

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jennycalendar · 4 years ago

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in the spirit of giles and jenny getting seduced by dracula's vampire brides, hee!: what are, let's say, your top five (or top however-many!) post-s2 shenanigans that happened in canon that you would've loved to see jenny around for? we as a society of course muse over what it would've been like to have jenny around in general, but it feels like a fun time to specifically imagine how jenny might have been part of all the NONSENSE.

THIS IS SUCH A CUTE ASK. OKAY.

so giles right after being fired from the council is so bitter and angry in canon, but i kinda think that had jenny been there, it would have been SO different tonally speaking! i have many many thoughts on giles’s arc and how it would’ve been altered by jenny’s presence, and one of them has always been that were jenny there, he would no longer feel the need to rigidly carry out his watcherly duties and drug buffy -- because he does not have to constrain himself to what Being A Watcher means when he is literally dating the poster child for saying “fuck you” to destiny and creating a hugely positive outcome for everybody involved. so he does NOT cooperate, he gets VERY fired, and while there is still a degree of bitterness and snark, it’s tempered by the fact that giles and jenny are trying to build a new way forward together.

literally every god damn day of my life i think about how much i want jenny’s take on the initiative. like that’s magic and tech and lots of questions about morality. she NEEDS TO BE THERE. she would initially REALLY get along with maggie walsh and this would drive a huge wedge between her and giles, right up until walsh insults giles and jenny’s like. yeah. no. she would steal lab tech from the initiative and take it back to the scooby gang and spend a whole bunch of time tinkering with it in the back. honestly i think the initiative might even hire her for like two seconds but she’d see what they’re doing with demons and start an actual screaming match with maggie walsh about morality and very nearly get herself locked up in one of the cells. (maybe spike breaks her out as an attempt to utilize a scooby bargaining chip. that would be HILARIOUS.)

on that note: if jenny was alive in season three, spike would have kidnapped her to do the love spell instead of willow (she’s an adult who he knows is capable of resouling angel. it just makes sense.). i made a post a while back about this but like....the potential of spike and jenny BOTH having relationship drama and being very upset at their exes, and then a panicked giles & co. busting down the door to find spike and jenny very wasted with spike crying on jenny’s shoulder about how they Always Leave (jenny is nodding emphatically and somewhat drunkenly).

season six! such a delicious angst fest. i kinda always thought that jenny would stay and giles would go to england and that would create this very new and interesting dynamic between jenny and buffy. like, buffy finds out that giles is gonna go and automatically assumes that Of Course jenny is leaving too, and then she finds out that ms. calendar has potentially tanked her long-term relationship for the sake of trying to provide adequate support to the kids. (jenny moves in and spends a lot of time trying to get buffy to go to therapy. they have a lot of fraught and very confusing arguments that eventually make it very clear that buffy is lowkey starting to see jenny as a mother figure & jenny has NO idea what to do about this. dawn meanwhile is starved for attention and has latched onto jenny like a barnacle. season six is a mess.)

i would be remiss to go this entire post without mentioning jenny and faith. like......how could i not mention jenny and faith. i managed to infuse my jenny and faith agenda into the entire fandom subconscious and created the jenny and faith tag on archive of our own. i’m kinda up in the air about how much jenny would be able to change wrt faith’s heel-turn (and i think it would be really interesting if she DIDN’T change anything despite trying her hardest), but i do think that there would be a really special relationship there. they’re both kinda outsiders who have to deal with the fact that they’re only barely connected to the scoobies. i’ve been playing around with a season seven au where faith comes back after absolutely fucking jenny over at the mayor’s request and they have to figure out how to mend what was a genuinely loving connection. there’s so much to work with there!!!!!

honorable mention is just the entire vibe of giles and jenny as a long term on again off again fixture of the buffyverse. i want that so badly. can you IMAGINE the energy of like....season seven giles and jenny getting back together after the drama of season six and then having a stupid fight over the dishes and calling a scooby meeting to announce their Official Separation As A Couple. there is this dead silence. xander hands willow ten dollars. buffy very slowly buries her face in her hands and says “for the millionth time. nobody here wants to be called over to your house every time you two break up. do you remember that one week in my freshman year of college when we were here every day?” dawn, of course, is genuinely upset. (”oh, sweetie, it’s okay!” says tara. “it’s mr. giles and ms. calendar, remember? they’ll be back together by saturday.” this very visibly cheers dawn up.)

#asks #headcanon #jenny calendar #with of course some #calendiles #probably a lot of that tbh but they rlly are a twosome of cuteness. can't help myself #dollsome-does-tumblr #edit: R I P got so distracted thinking about jenny did not get SPECIFIC with the nonsense #(i would have LOVED to see her in earshot. someone wrote a fic about that where she's just thinking about her and giles's sex life #and getting progressively more i-have-to-leave-this-is-awful.#also i would have loved to see her and anya have a bizarre conversation #where anya is being absolutely nonsensical and jenny is taking it absolutely at face value #y'know. anya off on a tangent about bunnies and jenny like. Yes :) Go On :)#AND i wanna see her shut xander up like 17 more times. she did it twice in her run and no one was able to do it like her #i love xander but ndslkdsnlkdh the POWER jenny holds. let her WIELD it #also: giles and jenny interrupted date nights as a repeated series-long running joke. pls.)

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 5 years ago

Text

But? Damian Wayne • Tim Drake

Pairing: Older!Damian Wayne x Plus Size Reader, Tim Drake x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: you go through a lot because of Tim and Damian but in different ways.

Request: do you listen to asmr boyfriend roleplay (on yt)? Some of them would be great as fics.

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, sexual innuendos, language, fluff, a very light mention of violence, light mentions of insecurity, is rain a warning?

A/N: the fact that every fic I’ve written for these characters has the same concept is very funny but I definitely see the appeal and the potential.

Based off these YouTube videos: one two three

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Replaying it didn’t make it easier to digest. After months of plans to move in together and talks about adopting a dog, Tim had broken up with you. He fell for someone else, a person he spoke about often.

She was a coworker of his, a gorgeous woman if anyone asked you. You could never blame him for falling for someone like her, she looked like a model and was a badass agent — it just hurt.

Now you were packing the belongings he kept at your place to send them to him with Alfred. It seemed like he couldn’t only break your heart and walk away, Tim also had to humiliate you. Out of respect, Alfred didn’t ask anything at all, he merely reminded you he was always available for you and wished you a good night.

The TV show playing in front of you wasn’t being processed by your brain. Curled up on the bed, covered with the duvet and a fuzzy blanket, you were desperately trying to conceive some sleep, for your brain to at least calm down so your head would stop throbbing and your eyes twitching.

Startled by tapping on the window, you were forced to swallow the mucus clogging your nose. Coughing, you rolled on the bed to asses who had disturbed you. Upon realizing it was just Robin, you begrudgingly left the bed to open the window.

He entered the room without saying anything, waiting for you to lock the window and close the curtains to take his domino mask off. He always did that, no matter how many times you told him no one would see him.

Damian stared down at the dozens of used Kleenex in the trashcan you kept near the bed. “Why are you upset?”

“I thought you knew...” your voice was strained, throat too tired due to the sobbing.

“I clearly don’t.”

“Tim dumped me for someone else.” Saying it in front of his brother was even worse than you had imagined. “Why are you here if it isn’t because I forgot to pack his brown jacket?”

Damian plopped down on your desk chair, staring directly at you, “patrol was boring and father is with Kyle again.”

Nodding, you went back to your spot on the bed, making yourself comfortable with a pillow on your lap.

“Are you tired?”

You were, but you didn’t want to be alone. “Not at all,” you lied so he wouldn’t dare leave. “Do you want to watch that movie you recommended to me last month?”

“Sure.”

Browsing through different streaming services until you found the film, you saw Damian take parts of his suit off in order to be more comfortable. Surprising you, he sat down on the bed, just beside you, once you had found the title.

You had to admit that paying attention was easier with him around, probably because you didn’t want to annoy him. The film did its job, you finally got distracted — you also fell asleep.

It became a routine, every night he would tap on your window and make you company. Some nights you would stay up until sunrise when you had to go to work, others he would be so tired he’d crash out on your couch, and a few nights you fully rested because his presence made you feel calmer.

Damian and you had never been too close, he and Tim had a complicated relationship and you didn’t want to have problems with your now ex-boyfriend. Now you hoped you had, he wasn’t what you had thought — Damian was nicer than every member of the family made him out to be, funnier, smarter, kinder. You genuinely enjoyed being around him.

He was extremely patient with you. He’d recommend you things to entertain yourself, let you vent when you needed, and without having to do it, would often make sure you had been eating properly because he had observed that between how much you had cried the days after the breakup, your job, and your lack of sleep you were low on energy. Damian had even spent an entire week helping you redecorate the apartment to cheer your spirit.

Being close to Damian meant spending time at the park with Titus, a shit ton of it, and trying new food every weekend, and visiting art galleries which had never been your thing. Being close to Damian also meant worrying because with all of his skills and abilities he was the most stubborn man you had ever met who often fought blindly just to end up in the Batcave's medical wing with a worried Alfred calling you to let you know your friend was hurt but alive.

Most importantly, being close to him meant feeling free to be yourself. You were sure no one would believe you, but it had never been truer.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Elevators had you tired, ironically. The only reason you hadn’t taken the stairs was that you were carrying a portfolio full of documents, a book bag, your purse, and a coat — everything was wet, just like you. Taking an umbrella would’ve saved you many nuisances, or not walking home from work, but you were too distracted in the morning to remember and now you were paying for it thanks to the rain that came with the nearing seasonal change.

You liked the rain, its sound was soothing, the smell made you aware of your own existence as it awakened your senses, you felt cleansed by it. A lovely thing to experience overall, just not after a long day of work.

Stepping out the second the elevator doors slid open, you took the keys out of your coat with your right hand. You let the straps of your purse slide down to your forearm as you flexed your arm while introducing the key in the lock, when it turned, you sighed out of relief and pushed the door open to finally get inside.

The lights were already on, sizzling echoed around the small apartment and a familiar smell of stir-fried vegetables hit your nose. You hung your coat, letting it drip as much water it naturally could before even daring to put it into the dryer.

Walking further into the apartment, you found Damian in the kitchen. He was wearing the comfiest clothes you had seen him on, sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt with only a pair of white socks.

“What are you doing in here with this weather?” you asked, taking a look at what he was cooking.

“I was bored.”

He always said the same, you always told him you didn’t believe him but he ignored it every single time. Patting his back, you announced you would get changed.

“Don’t take too long, dinner will get cold!”

As much as you were fine with Damian being there( and his cuisine,) you had to wonder why couldn’t he tell you his reasonings for his presence at your place. One thing was him visiting when you were there and another him practically breaking into your apartment — you were open to give him a copy of the keys, to be honest, but you would really appreciate it if he asked.

Dinner was delicious, shared over talk about your day. Damian was avoiding speaking about his day, about his entire week actually — in the past month and a half he hadn’t done anything close to that.

Sat on the couch in order to continue bingeing the show the two of you had started last week, you considered asking him what was going on with him. It partially scared you, the last time a member of that family had acted like that toward you they broke your heart.

Taking a deep breath, you threw your head backward to rest it against the edge of the sofa. Damian watched you, frowning. “Are you okay?”

You answered in a hum. “You?”

“Peachy.”

You moved around the couch, opening your eyes to stare at him. He stared back, the frown slowly disappearing from his face as seconds passed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you inquired in a timid voice.

“Father is planning on retiring.”

“Oh... are you taking over?”

“Yes.”

You couldn’t picture anyone but him doing it. Dick had been miserable as Batman, Jason wasn’t interested in being like Bruce after everything that had happened, and Cass was finally finding a balance in her life.

“You don’t sound happy about it.”

“I am.”

“But?”

He shook his head, “but nothing. It was a long day.”

For your mental wellbeing, you didn’t press on it. He was clearly hiding something from you but he had the right to do so. It made you feel bad but whatever.

The lights flickered, prompting you to groan. The storm was getting worse, the sky was rumbling with thunder and the lighting striking the city and flashing into the living room through the thin white drapes was as mesmerizing as terrifying.

You mumbled, “can you stay?”

“Yes.”

Damian walked behind you, holding the flashlight from his cellphone to light the path toward your bedroom. You undid the bed quickly so he wouldn’t have to hold the device up for so long, you were sure it wasn’t an inconvenience to him but you still didn’t want to bother him.

He sat down on the bed, just next to you, “I’ll stay here until you fall asleep, then I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“You can sleep next to me if you want.” You felt your face burn up the second the words left your mouth yet you meant them. Oh, you did.

You heard shuffling. Assuming he was taking his sweatshirt off to get into bed, you moved away from the middle of the mattress toward the farthest side from him.

Getting under the duvet, Damian laid on his back. His cologne mixed with his usual smell of vanilla and almonds filled your nostrils as he dropped his head onto the pillow with his arms crossed against his front.

“Dami?” you whispered. He hummed in acknowledgment. “Can you get closer? I’m cold.”

With no hesitation, he turned over in order to lay on his side. Throwing his arm around you from behind, “Is that better?”

You relaxed with your back against his chest, letting a content sigh out. Damian inhaled deeply, taking a whiff off you. He did it again then, finding the smell of your lotion soothing. As he relaxed too, his arm curled around you more comfortably with his hand laying on your plump belly. You placed your hand on top of his, a little nervous yet excited. Being held was a nice feeling, one you had forgotten.

He lifted his fingers, brushing yours. You intertwined your fingers between his, playing with them. He huffed a light breath, caressing the sides of your fingers as you played with his.

Turning around, you got lost into the ethereal way the light from the lamppost entering through the window illuminated Damian’s side profile. He opened his mouth to probably say something but you abruptly shut him up. You did know what overcame you, it was something that had been simmering in you for the past month — the need of being near him, the butterflies that swarmed inside you when he laughed, the peace he brought you. He surprised you by kissing back.

“Shit,” you exclaimed, realizing you had actually done it. “I’m sorry, I—“

“It’s okay,” he interrupted to assure you. He placed his hand on your lower back, leaning in again. “Can we do it again?”

You kissed him again, feeling him tighten his arm around you in order to pull you closer. He deepened the kiss too, prying your mouth open as you held his face in order to ground yourself mentally. Damian laid you on your back, pushing you into the mattress as he straddled you — his lips didn’t leave yours, not even as both of you whimpered while his hands trailed up and down your thighs and yours mapped his back. Full-on making out with your best friend wasn’t how you pictured your shitty day ending, but you weren’t about to complain.

Damian couldn’t keep his lips off your face, enjoying the softness of your cheeks under his mouth and seeing the natural twitches of your nose which made him realize you were actually awake. He hoped he hadn’t awakened you up.

“I thought you were asleep.” The depth of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. “Were you pretending?”

You hummed, “it was hard with all those kisses.”

“I wasn’t kissing you,” he said teasingly, using his index and middle fingers to lift your head in order to continue kissing your face. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did. You?”

He answered, “yes. The best in months.” It felt good knowing you weren’t the only one.

Damian hugged you close with both arms, exhaling happily, “you’re very warm.”

Hiding your face in his chest, you hugged back. You didn’t know what it meant, or the meaning behind the gesture of still cuddling in bed with the guy you had started developing feelings for mere weeks after breaking up with his brother. But it didn’t matter, you were comfortable in his arms and happy with seemingly having cracked his shell.

You had to ask, however. “Did I overstep last night?”

“No, I told you it was okay.”

“Oh, yeah.”

He pulled away enough to fully face you. You attempted to ignore him, shifting under his gaze. Damian licked his lips, “did I make you think otherwise?”

You shook your head, the sound the friction of the side of your face made against the pillow too loud for your liking. “I just... I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Is this ruining our friendship?”

You stuttered, “I— I think so?” You weren’t sure.

“I want to ruin it,” he stated, eyes fixed on yours, “more than anything.”

Your eyes dropped to his mouth as he said it, his full lips tempting you again. You were scared of the lack of guilt you were feeling, but you happily gave in. “Let’s ruin it, then.”

Smiling brightly, he dipped his face in order to kiss you. You were certain you would never get over his soft lips, the warmth of his breath, the firmness of his touch, his intoxicating scent, his silky voice... God, he truly had you smitten.

Nuzzling against your shoulder, he intertwined his legs with yours. “I don’t want to get out of bed yet.”

You giggled. “Then don’t.”

Damian decided he could do that, just cuddle his favorite person in the world until something came up, maybe.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

You had been typing on your computer, as music harmonized your den-office when the doorbell rang. Looking at the time to try and guess who could be visiting you on a Tuesday noon, you pushed yourself back, away from the desk, in order to stand up.

Dot, the Labrador you had adopted no long ago wiggled her tail from her spot near the couch as you crossed the living room. She loved laying there, she had a good view of the door and could jump on you the second you got home.

You regretted opening the door the second you faced your visitor. Tim Drake smiled timidly at you, “hi, (Y/N).”

“I— uh, hello?” You tilted your head, confused as to what he was doing there, who had given him the address and why had he thought he would be welcome.

“Can I come in?”

You lifted your index finger. “Just a second.”

Opening the guest-closet, you took a pair of slippers out and padded back toward the door. Tim looked down at the slippers you were offering to him, then at his shoes — as he did, he realized you weren’t wearing any footwear.

He complied, taking his shoes off and sliding his feet into the slippers. When he asked where to put the pair of footwear he had just taken off, you pointed to a mat next to the door, just under the key holders. You closed the front door as he dropped his shoes.

“Wow,” he exclaimed, eyes taking in as much of the space around him as possible, “your taste has changed! How long has it been?”

“A little over a year and a half.”

“We really need to catch up!”

You motioned for him to sit down on the couch. Dot curiously stared at him when he did so while you asked, “do you want anything to drink?”

“Coffee would be fine,” he answered just to have more time to examine the living room. It was extremely luxurious, with a vaulted ceiling and oversized windows.

Curious about the overall design of the penthouse, and how good your job had to be for you to be able to pay for such living arrangements, he followed you toward the kitchen where you were preparing his coffee. It was as full of luxury as the living room, with stainless steel appliances, granite counter-tops and a breakfast bar the size of your previous apartment’s entire kitchen.

“How have you been?” He asked, sliding his palm against the marbled breakfast bar.

“I’ve been great.” You gave him a tight smile, placing the sugar bowl onto the bar.

“I’m glad. How’s your family?”

“They’re great, thank you.” Out of courtesy, you asked, “how have you been?”

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, “well, after I abruptly broke up with you, from which I’m very sorry because I was a dick, my girlfriend broke up with me too...”

“I’m sorry.” You genuinely felt for him, being dumped out of the blue wasn’t something you wished upon anyone. Pouring coffee into a mug, you handed it to him.

“It’s okay,” he smiled openly, nodding as a thank you for the coffee and dropping a couple of spoonfuls of sugar into the beverage, “I’m over it. I moved to Europe when Bruce said he needed someone to supervise the branch of the company there, the drama wasn’t good for my spirit.”

“Why are you back? It’s not like Gotham has changed.”

“My best friend is getting married.”

You hummed, finding estrange that you hadn’t been invited to the wedding.

“You have a new boy or anything?”

You stuttered, dropping a teabag into a cup, “perhaps.”

“Come on, (N/N), tell me! I won’t get mad.” He deviated his gaze. “I’m over you and everything.”

You confessed then, pouring hot water on top of the herbs, “I am dating Damian.”

“Which Damian?”

You waited for your ex-boyfriend to swallow the sip of coffee he had just taken and took the opportunity to have a sip of tea to calm your nerves. “Wayne,” you explained.

“You’re dating my little brother?!” He whisper-shouted. You simply nodded. “For how long?”

“Eleven months.”

“So what? You ran into his arms as soon as I broke up with you?!”

You didn’t appreciate the tone he was using or what he was insinuating. Definitely not when he had cheated on you without for once thinking of sparing your feelings.

“Damian was there for me when no one else had the time, it just happened.”

“I thought you were going to stay away from my family,” he reproached you.

In all honesty, you had thought the same thing. As much as Alfred had told you to call him if you needed anything when he went to pick up the belongings Tim kept at your place, you hadn’t planned on doing it — but that same night, when Damian arrived, tired after a long patrol, and playing dumb by saying he had just dropped by because he was bored you decided you didn’t have to, you didn’t want to. Eventually, you evolved, as many things had after that night, not for Damian nor because of him but next to him, with his patience and support.

“I can’t believe you,” he shook his head.

“I thought you were over me.”

“I’m not jealous! But you deserve better than him — you’re so pretty and nice and he’s selfish and mean and depends on Bruce for everything.”

That didn’t sound like Damian at all. “Maybe you don’t know your brother.”

“You’re telling me he’s changed? Because I don’t believe it.”

You couldn’t be a testimony of Damian’s change when you had never seen the version Tim described, but you could definitely say Damian was everything you had always wanted in a partner and more — he was what you needed, what you loved.

“You still can do way, waaaaaay better than him,” Tim interpreted your silence as a confirmation of Damian’s change.

“Like who, Timothy?”

“Like me!” he exploded, clenching his eyes shut for a couple seconds to control his breathing. “I’ll go straight to the point: I miss you. I came back to get you back, there’s no wedding. I was too stupid to see what I had when I had it, I know, but I’ve changed,” he assured, “I have a new philosophy, I’m surrounded by better people. I’m not blind anymore.”

“Neither I am.”

He ignored your comment and went on, “let’s just start again. In another country, a new house. We’ll adopt as many puppies as you want!” Tim took an envelope out, “I have two plane tickets here for tomorrow. One is yours.”

The front door unlocked loudly, prompting both you and Dot to crane your necks in order to stare at it. Damian pushed it open, shoes in hand and blazer draping over his forearm.

You saw him focus on the pair of shoes on the mat for mere seconds before Dot happily wiggled her tail at him as she approached him. Damian threw his blazer to the nearest couch, quickly undoing his tie which followed suit, before hunching down to pet the little dog.

Out of habit, you left the kitchen to walk toward him and greet him. He stood back up, naturally towering over you and kissing you softly, “hello, beloved.”

You giddily smiled, forgetting you weren’t alone, “hi, handsome. I missed you.” Wrapping your arms around his waist, you inhaled his scent. God, you had truly missed him. Sleeping without him wasn’t the same, nor having to rely on music or the tv for the place to not feel alone. Two days of not hearing his voice not waking up tangled up with him were too much sometimes.

Damian put his hands on your waist, sighing at finally being able to touch your soft body again. “I missed you more.” He leaned downward, placing his lips on yours again.

“(Y/N),” Tim pleaded from behind you, making you jump.

Damian parted from you, looking past your shoulder and directly at his brother. “Drake. What are you doing in here?”

You stepped to the side, opting for opening the terrace’s door so Dot could have some fun outside. In the background, as you leant against the doorway and watched the little dog sniff the terrace, you heard Tim say Alfred had given him the address. Oh, sweet Alfred, always trying to keep the family together.

Turning around, you saw them both sit down in front of each other in the living room. Trying to keep them from fighting, you walked back into the room and sat down next to your boyfriend.

Tim immediately told you, “please don’t throw it all to waste for him.”

Both Damian and you frowned. He put his hand on your thigh, like he had done the first time he had taken you to a business dinner as his date, like he had grown used to do under any table. It was your favorite gesture, he wasn’t a big fan of PDA but he still made sure to always be touching you — the fact that he loved your thighs when you had always been insecure due to their size was a nice addition.

“I’m over you, Tim. Damian is my boyfriend, and with who I want to be.”

“He’ll never love you like I do, he can’t.” Tim’s tone was the harshest you had heard from him.

He was right, though. Damian would never love you like Tim did, that was the whole point. You didn’t want what Tim had to offer, the kind of love he could give — you were past that, you had been for a long time now and it felt amazing.

Tired and spent, Damian hugged you extremely tightly while cuddling that night, almost to the point where you struggled to breathe. Wiggling in his arms in order to turn around and face him, you wrapped your arms around him as best as you could.

“What’s wrong, Dami?”

“Nothing.”

You dropped yourself onto your back, struggling to bring him in but ultimately succeeding. Damian sighed, shifting to be more comfortable as he laid his head on your bare chest.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. Damian inhaled your scent, sighing in content — he was in his safe place. “I sometimes forget not everyone sees me the way you do.”

You supposed he was referring to Tim’s assumptions about him. “Does it bother you?”

“Only when they use it to try putting you against me.”

“You know they would never succeed, right?” You needed him to be aware of that.

“I do.”

“But?”

He moved to hover over you, fitting his legs between yours as he propped himself up with his elbows. “But it’s different when your ex does it. And no, I’m not jealous, I do trust you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. You understood what he meant, perfectly so. Damian had been there to pick up the pieces, he had helped you glue them together and even taught you to tweak them so the final piece would look better — with that, beautiful things had bloomed, but in between many tears had been shed on your behalf and many confessions had been made regarding your feelings in general; sprinkle in how hard it had been to process the fact that you had fallen for each other and you could understand where he was coming from. There was a piece of Damian in you, and there was a piece of you in him; at every level.

“It’s not relevant anymore, love,” you reminded him.

Damian caught your lips in a tender kiss, humming. “I just wish he wasn’t back.”

“He’ll be gone by tomorrow. And if he isn’t, I don’t care.” You started playing with his hair, unconsciously running your fingers up and down through his locks. “But I don’t want you to have a bad relationship with your brother because of me.”

“We’ve spoken about that.”

Damian had never been able to get along with Tim, his relationship with Dick was great and he had even built one with Jason, Cass was his favorite, and he had gotten to meet with Helena a few times. However, his resentment toward Tim heightened when you two started frequenting each other — he seemed to now despise him.

You tilted your head to pepper kisses over his jaw. “You’ll manage, Damian. You ignored him for years.”

Your boyfriend sighed dramatically, letting his weight gradually fall on top of you. Placing his hand on your cheek, he smirked before burying his face in your neck. “Besides,” Damian mumbled, “he’s not the one keeping you up tonight.”

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x plus size reader #tim drake x reader #tim drake x plus size reader #plus size fanfiction #plus size reader #robin x reader #robin x plus size reader #damian wayne #robin #dc x plus size reader #dc x reader #batfam x plus size reader #batfam x reader

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sukirichi · 4 years ago

Note

read the new chapters and aAAACKKKKK BESTIE???

y/n - ‘I was born to make everyone’s life a living hell’ maam this LINE?! JAW DROPPED, TIME STOPPED being insecure all her life and wanting to live up to the expectations to her dad just to have that sliver of attention from him, that sentence gives us a glimpse on how little she felt despite being accomplished, rather successful actually because she always cleans her boss’ mess have a lot of baggage to unpack. and when the secret was confirmed, her anger rejects all of the entity that ties with her past because both her parents deprived her for the things she was supposed to have– becoming greedy to fulfill those. then eventually, somehow, going back to her roots aka being humble after having the talk with her dad. As most of her insecurity started because of him and how she had to be the bigger person for his other family, clearing out the misunderstanding between them brought a sense of peace while she’s settling in the restless turn of events.

and with our main man gojo, this guy, it is not wise to- 😤😤 how can you say you’re engaged after doing the body tango huh? esp when you said you want y/n to be your wife? oh gee and the revelation of his past relationship with mia and how he sees her in y/n is so fucked up. can’t help but think that satoru wanting to marry and be this lovey-dovey with y/n is just him reliving the moments that mia never gave him in the past. and y/n accepting that their current relationship is based on how they’re filling up the cracks in their needs and settling for the sake of familiarity. imagine how deep in love our girl is to keep satoru in her life 💔 im still in it for the second lead agenda

needless to say, everyone here needs a therapy so they can get their shit straight together 🤧🤧 (ノ•̀ o •́ )ノ ~ ┻━┻

BUT i know you mentioned this many times but laywer! naoya all poised and in his best behavior while helping y/n in her new situation has my heart go💕💕 winning lots of cases and is known in his field, he proved that he is both beauty and brains. and the pen spin??? man be pulling those fast spins either to distract or impress the person he is talking to flashing those perfect white pearls wtf now i can’t get that out of my head naoya brain rot 🥵🥵 also celebrity chef! sukuna in charge of all those delicious, exquisite cuisines? imma make myself broke just to taste his masterpiece🥲 ooh but how about him being a michelin star chef and owning a michelin-starred resto?! no doubt, left and right you see this man appearing on some high food magazine on the cover 😊😊 oh oh i also saw that supermodel! choso?? also his face is plastered on magazines AND luxurious advertisements ex. shibuya crossing! where most people be drenched in his glorious presence yea weird shibuya arc ref pls kill me and everyone talks how handsome and intimidating he is while he just have a rbf and only the closest people in his life get to see him drop that front 😌😌

with that in mind, imagine supermodel! choso being a godfather to the baby of y/n?? he would go soft immediately at the sight of the child and would probably love giving lots of branded clothes it will be good enough for more than a year ☺️🥲😭

oh and there is this one scene in chp7 that reminded me of the recent korean movie i watched i dont wanna say it in case you wanna check it out its called sweet and sour and oh god idk why but watching it, mind keeps on prompting your fics 😬😬 maybe bcos i some of your fic always had med related topics and the main actress role there is a nurse. i remember that you’re on your clinic training so maybe thats why 😳oohh pls don’t forget to take breaks and be safe heart and oh ur a psych major too? oh wow hi ig in relation to one actress in the sweet and sour fic, she was also in a kdrama the heirs- which was popular at the time with it being packed with some solid household actors and actresses. sky castle tho, ig it relates to the theme of reckless more because its mostly how parents from the upper class will mindlessly destroy someone’s life to attain their materialistic desires 🤧🙂

this fic, easily in my top 3 ‘heart belongs to who it dictates’ so many twists, so much drama and ANGST! YES BESTIE GIMME THOSE ANGST 🥲😌

i hope you’re doing well nowadays :’)) we need to find gege the best chiropractor to take care of his back, so good that it’ll make naoya respawn to life 🙂 suki i don’t think i’ll get tired of saying how much i love your work that it feels illegal im reading it for free 💔. i don’t really have much to offer, but im wishing you good health and success in your life :’)) aah i’ve mentioned this already but take care always 💕💖😊🥰

- 🍳

read the new chapters and aAAACKKKKK BESTIE???

needless to say, everyone here needs a therapy so they can get their shit straight together 🤧🤧 (ノ•̀ o •́ )ノ ~ ┻━┻

this fic, easily in my top 3 ‘heart belongs to who it dictates’ so many twists, so much drama and ANGST! YES BESTIE GIMME THOSE ANGST 🥲😌

- 🍳

y/n becomes a real baddie when she’s pissed off 😫

hmm y/n wasn’t really working hard for her dad’s attention, it was more like she felt so left out and unwanted (she feels unwanted wherever she goes) that she just decided to pack up and support them from afar bcos to her, she’s so alienated in her dad’s family that she felt like she had to work hard to earn a spot in their table. she knows she’s the outsider but she wants to feel like she can be part of them, that she is also a child deserving of love and care, but becos her stepmom focused more on her actual kids and her own dad was too busy with his new family now, it made y/n feel that she had to do something to be worthy of that.

that’s why most of the money she made working in tokyo was still wired to her family; she put her brothers in school and supported them, all because she hoped it would make them accept her more. now, things are different because she finally found her biological family, but even if valeria and co. still don’t want her, y/n is now more focusing on building something that’s truly hers that no one can take away. yes yes, she did become greedy, but more for power than of acceptance. she got to a point she doesn’t care as much vying for her parents’ approval and now thinks her luxury gives her comfort; only because at least she has that much. like she said in the latest chapter, happiness was not what she needed, it was stability and money - all things she lacked before.

and yea she did go back to her roots! all of her issues started with her dad anyway but that part is slowly patching up 🩹💔 oooh actually your theory is right bestie 🧐 gojo found y/n interesting bcos she reminded him of mia, so the more she pushed him away, the more he’s like wait, i’ve been here before, let’s not repeat past mistakes but i can do better now. on the part where gojo talked to mia while she was asleep, notice how he said he’s given a second chance to do better now, all because he couldn’t do them with mia but he could with y/n.

ohhh actually y/n was the one who established that ‘fulfilling mutual need and settling for familiarity instead of being lonely’ type of relationship. gojo avoided her for weeks and he’s pretty settled in keeping his distance, but she was the one who sought him out. deep down, y/n is afraid if she doesn’t at least use him as an anchor to her more humble roots, then she might spiral out of control and end up like valeria, thus using him as a ‘distraction’ but in reality, she needs his comfort to be grounded.

SECOND LEAD AGENDA OMG LETS GOOO 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️ geto the fine fine option.

NO BESTIE MOMENT U MENTIONED LAWYER NAOYA I JUST KNEW I WAS GONNA SCREAM. okay but lawyer! naoya is so fine, i love his character so much bcos he’s a pure bean. originally, i was gonna make him an antagonist but i found he had more potential as a good, supportive character. HIS PEN SPIN HELPPP WHY COULDN’T HE JUST BEEN OUR BABY DADDY 😫 he pulls them fast spins bcos he’s nervous btw HAHAHAHA y/n can be quite intimidating and lawyer! naoya is sometimes too precious.

celebrity chef! sukuna is MEAN! he was pictured after gordon ramsay so lmao. omgggg sukuna being famous not only for his food but also his handsomeness 😳 he gets so cocky over how no one can get in his level while popping a battle of champagne, listening to ‘careless whisper’ while dancing to his reflection in the mirror 😤

also yoo supermodel! choso is THE hot shit 🥵 he’s so famous his schedule is packed for an entire year and a half and those are just for very selected brands and designers! ugh imagine going to work on the subway when you see supermodel! choso with rbf posing sexily and you swoon because he’s so sexy. plot twist that choso doesn’t know how to drive bcos as a kamo family member, they grew up with drivers taking them to and fro, so when his driver got sick and everyone else was busy, supermodel choso takes the subway himself and hides behind a face mask and cap while still wearing extravagant clothes that makes him stand out more. he does not have ‘subtle’ on his book at all.

and yeah people say he’s intimidating but its more his height and build + rbf! in reality, he’s just as soft and sweet as naoya, but both of them go into protective mode when someone they care about is being crapped on. and boy when they DO get into “what did you just say?” mode, better run away 🏃🏻‍♀️ supermodel! choso is also an heir to the kamo empire though not after the business, but he still has enough power to take you down in a second.

meanwhile, lawyer! naoya didn’t become this successful without being so savage yet composed he makes you question your entire existence before he drags you to court. lawyer! naoya is so scarily convincing that he can make you plead guilty even tho you did nothing wrong 💀

aaaah omg supermodel! choso LOVES babies actually! as the eldest child who looked after his brothers bcos the kamo parents are always away for work, being a father figure is so natural to him. i can picture him being the one who cries harder than gojo if the baby is born bcos he’s so excited, then reads poems to the baby before sighing that childbirth is such a beautiful thing 🥺

omg i know sweet n sour, the actresses are one of my faves tho i haven’t watched it yet! oooh they’re a nurse? i didn’t know that 🧐 i actually finish my short training in a week so i’ll be heading on to heavy majoring in psychology! wait bestie are YOU also a psych major 😳💕 oh and i see i see, sky castle *jots that down for future references* reckless actually has lots of significance in terms of the parents’ roles so i’m excited to see that! and aww thank you so much, can’t believe i made it in someone’s top three 🥺💕

HELP AHSKWKW i’m gonna call the best chiropractor in the world and send them gege’s way, i’ll cry a river if that’s what it takes to bring my boo back to life 😭 and noo baby the support already means a lot to me, i’m just happy to indulge in my hobbies and share it wih you all so thank you very much for everything 🥺 please take care of yourself too n have a nice day!! kith MWAH 💕

#asks with naoya's trophy wife #series: reckless #jjk: manga spoilers #anon:🍳

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everlasting-deluge · 5 years ago

Text

When We Were Young | 01

↠pairing: park jimin ⇆ reader (female) ⇆ kim namjoon

↠genre: angst, romance, song fic, Ex-lover!Jimin, Ex-lovers!AU, Childhood Love!AU, (kinda) Sugar Daddy!Namjoon

↠warnings: mention of disturbing subjects (Ex. suicide attempt, depression, anxiety), profanity

↠words: 5k

↠A/N: I’ve got the inspiration for this work from the song When We Were Young by Adele. This is the first chapter of the serie. I focused on character’s inner world rather than the outside one. I’d love to hear your thoughts on this work too, so don’t be afraid to send me some feedbacks.

➸ Nothing could prepare you for this fateful and haphazard encounter with him. He was there, right in front of you, looking at you with the same yearning that had been in your eyes for years now. Were you ready to face him? Were you ready to know the cause of those sleepless nights and your wet pillows?

❈ | Moodboard | Masterlist |

One, two, three, four… Ten.

Ten seconds of eye contact was what you needed for recalling the owner of those eyes, those beautiful soft dark brown eyes. They once looked at you with love and care, promised you the world, made you feel safe and complete; now, however, you could only see panic bolting in them.

He was confused, his eyes had widened only for a split-second was clearly hinting that; but his stiffened posture caused by him trying to restrain his emotions made you think something else was in the equation, another factor that needed to be added.

It didn’t really take you long to find that missing element, just following where his eyes were drifting away to. It was simple but also crushing; like, the elephant in the room suddenly decided that it was fed up with only sitting there. So instead, it started to jump on your newly healed heart with its tons of weight. The haphazard stitches became undone, and the blood leaked out from the wounds.

If your heart was like how it used to be, then there should have been no problem with carrying the weight. It had carried all that love for years. That cursed burden called love which brought you nothing but, supposedly, “never-ending” storms that ended with a grave silence.

Jimin was sitting at the table on the rightmost row, which your table was a part of as well; like you, the night view of the city on their right was presented by the huge windows kissing the ceiling from all the way down to the floor.You two could see each other’s faces clearly—against your own liking.

The beautiful lady sitting across from him was the reason behind the hesitation buried in his actions— you were assumming her beauty from behind; she had this perfect posture and a milk-white skin exposed by her back-revealing dark red velvet dress. You could hardly detect her voice speaking to Jimin among muffled background noises of the restaurant. Her voice was like her dress: velvety.

She then giggled, probably expecting him to react the same way, but Jimin was too absorbed by your presence to notice her request. Your whole being was covering his senses like a delicate lace curtain. He could rip you off only with his bare hands and come back to the real world, getting out of your mesmerizing shade, but he didn’t want to; the tulle brushing his face was leaving a funny tingle on his skin. He enjoyed seeing the world brokenly behind the little gaps between embroidery patterns. And everything else looked white, innocent-like. In that whiteness, he forgot what he’d done to you, what he’d done to you two’s “we”. His mind wandered among odds. Could he use “we” with you ever again? He’d considered the possibility for thousands of times before, but he had never dared to want more than he deserved. He could not be greedy; he had no right to be so. But if he had had the courage, he would have searched you everywhere; and when he had found you, he would have never let you go ever again. He did once, and it had almost cost him his life. Almost…

You saw him flinch as he trailed his gaze down, piercing his eyes away from yours. His girlfriend must have held his hand on the table. He smiled softly to her but softness didn’t reach to his eyes; the panic was still evident in them. The lady didn’t notice though, or she pretended to not to. In anyway, you could see that she had this huge impact on him. It was strong enough to not let him show his emotions towards you. This didn’t bother you, however; not like how it did in the past at least.

“____, are you okay?”

You wondered how you looked like through the eyes of the person sitting on the chair right in front of you. Rude, uninterested? A kid who had a focus-span less than ten minutes? You tried to read his expression, but it gave you nothing more than plain concern.

You hated it.

“Yes, I’m okay Namjoon. It was a tough day at the office, ’s all. Thank you for your concern.”

You smiled at him and returned to cutting the delicious-looking steak on your plate—which, maybe, had costed a full shopping cart of food that could serve you for a month. You weren’t paying, so you kept your mouth shut and tried to enjoy what’s given to you. You appreciated it, really. If it weren’t for him, you would never come to this kind of luxurious place, or eat costly meals in tight and revealing dresses combined with a pair of killer high heels. It simply was not in you; you weren’t suitable for these kinds of things. They were too much for your lifestyle shaped by the incomes of you and your parents’—which won’t fill a nutshell compared to Namjoon’s current earnings.

You told Namjoon what you’d felt about how he preferred to live his life. You didn’t want him to quit it altogether, of course not; but you asked him to tone it down a little and respect your boundaries when he was with you. He said that he would do anything for you; he said only you mattered to him, but you knew him better than that. The reflection of you in his eyes was someone else. And she was a complete stranger to you.

She was someone who enjoyed parties, getting social and talkative; she was fond of getting dressed up and minding her manners. The present you in front of him was just an empty shell he can fill up with his desires and standards. You were just a potential to him and nothing more, only waiting for someone to actualize you. Whenever you showed your distress about the whole thing and refused to do as you were told he would say,

“You are beautiful ____, but your own eyes are helpless when it comes to seeing your true beauty under this… Well, neglected layer. You can be so much more, love; you have the potential to be so. We just have to find the real you hidden inside and when we do, I assure you, you’ll feel better. Let me help you, ____.”

Yesterday, you two had planned tonight’s dinner date. While you two had been planning, you’d emphasized that you wanted it to be simple and casual. You’d asked him to come over to your place and prepare dinner with you; you’d thought it would help deepen your bond, plus it would be cute to mess around a little in the kitchen. You just wanted to see him in his “casual” habitat. It’d been two months since you two start dating, but you knew nothing about him other than general personal informations, his family being an acquaintance of your family and him having enough money to spend like there’s no tomorrow.

Namjoon had promised you a calm and sweet dinner, only you two in a romantic atmosphere.

While you were dreaming about how this date would have been like if he’d just stuck to the plan and had kept his promise, like a cuckoo clock warning you about the passing time, the waitress startled you when she asked if you needed anything else. This made you look up from your glass half filled with red wine and see the painful reality. You two were not alone, neither casual, and were far away from your definition of a sweet romantic dinner. And the privacy… You’d rather not think about that.

“No, thank you. We’re fine.”

The waitress smiled and with a small nod she left you two to your own miserable night.

You fixed your gaze on Namjoon after looking around and thinking how you ended up in there. He was wearing a black suit and his hair was styled nicely, granting him a sharp-look along with the glasses he wore. Everything on him was screaming money and power, everything on him was matched with his aura; he owned it all. Nothing looked out of place, unlike you. You were stiff, unnatural. People would immediately understand that you were not a part of this world; you were unsuited, not born for this. Yet, Namjoon has claimed that he saw something in you that no one ever did, including yourself. He believed that you belonged to where he was standing, the world of elites; he believed that you belonged to him. But you have never been his or someone else’s and you were never going to be. You belonged to you, and you were sick of pretending like someone else. You’ve never wanted to be better. You were enjoying the life plenty with this version of you.

You’ve missed wearing baggy and comfortable clothes when you went out; staying at home, settling on your little counter beside the window (which had an amazing view at this time of the year) and reading your favorite book on there while drinking your calming tea.

Ah, you’ve missed the autumn in Busan; you’ve missed riding your bike to the beach and watching the sun set bit by bit until it submerged into the sea completely, as lines and colors mixed all together and formed the starry sky along with the moon. You’ve missed the autumn in Busan with him. You’ve missed Park Jimin.

And now, he was right there, a few meters away. You’ve always dreamed; what if you saw him again, what if you had a chance to talk. What would you say?

I’ve missed you,

I still love you.

Come back to me…

Just the possibilities themselves were enough to make you nauseous. Whenever the thought corossed your mind, something warm would emanate your heart at the spot; welcoming and familiar… Then his face would appear in your head. Untouched and eternal… As if the cruel time made him an exception and let him pass without giving his youth as an exchange.

The Jimin in your head was young and full of love. He was smiling ear to ear. In contrast with his widening smile, his eyes were getting smaller. You’d loved to see him smile; you would feel instant relief when he showed his pearl-white teeth to the world and blessed the living.

You’ve always thought you would feel the same way when you meet him again, the emotions from the past would flourish and wind your heart with their arms like a poison ivy.

The first taste from the poison would always feel pleasant and heavenly; but when it found its way through your veins and swam in your every cell, it would kill you gradually. Even though feeling the slow-coming end, you would still try to cherish every little piece it’s given to you. Even after all that pain and darkness, you would still feel grateful for all those memories he made with you. But the worst part would always be the time when you realize that you still carved it. Because once you tasted it, it just felt… right. As if it should have been there from the start, as if it was your part you’ve been missing all this time.

The emotions were there still, along with the poison itself; but you weren’t.

The fog in your head was thicker now, concealing the last remaining pieces of who you used to be. The shared laughters, glances, words… Everything was now swallowed by The Fog of Remedy. You’ve done this to yourself, you needed to forget if you wanted to heal. And this was what you’d wanted from the start: to forget.

You’d never thought at some point of your life you would want to get rid of those meaningful memories… to get rid of him. You’d wished not to do so. You’d wished to keep them with you so that the Jimin in those scenes can stay young and hidden. A Jimin had never gotten the touch of Time; a Jimin never gave up on you and what you two once had… You’d felt like that was the only connection you had with him: The old rusty memories smelled like fresh daisies, just like the time when you two went to the forest for your second anniversary.

But people can change, just like how emotions do. Now, the pain in your heart wasn’t the result of those never ending nights you’d kept thinking about where you did the wrong, where you shot the last bullet. Now, it resulted from your overwhelmed state caused by none other than Park Jimin sitting a few meters away: You were glad for seeing him once again; you were angry at him still looking like how he stayed in your thoughts, young and ethereal; you were sad for thinking how you two ended up like this at the very end; two strangers once shared a single heart.

‘Jimin, you bast–’

You irked with the sudden coldness on your hand. Getting your head up from your gold engraved plate, you looked at the culprit of the goosebumps on your arms.

Namjoon was holdings your hand as if it was made of glass. The hold was gentle, and when you’d gotten used to its temperature, it felt warm. He had the same gentleness in his face, too. When you met with his eyes, however; his gaze intensified, making you feel vulnerable and small. He was a man who got the power of money always beside him, but he himself, too, possessed a great strength that made people feel weak under those sharp eyes.

You’d used to compare his eyes with Jimin’s. They differed greatly from one another but also somehow found a way to shine as if they belonged to the same person.

Namjoon’s eyes were a lot more defined than Jimin’s. They were heavy with the given responsibilities at such young age. Namjoon tasted success earlier than most did; but like any other thing in this world, it came with a price. Probably, he’d not had the chance to do most people did at around his age: like not thinking about the fact that actions he took constantly monitored by people who waited eagerly for his demise, or enjoying a single freaking normal dinner date with his girlfriend, etcetera, etcetera…

But even so, sometimes his eyes had this familiar shine in them. You had seen it when you two met for the first time and you had seen it before in Jimin’s eyes too. Namjoon had smiled at you when you two exchanged your names, and that was the moment you had decided to leave the past behind and try to move on. Maybe that familiarity in his pupils had urged you to take a step forward, or maybe you’d been fooled by it just to see that familiar shine was a delusion of your longing for Jimin.

You had let go of the strings and let the destiny do her job; no more playing the blind, playing “the victim”. This had led you to accept your parents invitation to meet with their close friends—who were wealthy and had a handsome and also successful son at your age, according to your parents. Now here you were, sitting across from him with a title always came before your birth-given name:

Namjoon’s girlfriend.

Namjoon’s hand was still on yours. You briefly smiled at him, which led him to do the same. After making sure you were okay again, he lifted his hand and returned to his meal. You were going to do the same– No; you had to do the same, but something was urging you to look at Jimin’s eyes. You wanted to look at them, The Present Jimin’s eyes to see if they were how you remembered, longed them to be. You wanted to be sure they shimmered the same way they did years ago. So you obeyed to the little voice and lifted your head up, but inside you were praying that he was minding his own business so you two didn’t lock eyes. You closed your eyes for a second; after exhaling, you lifted your head to look straight ahead.

Jimin saw your closed eyes and got worried a little. You were not okay, possibly his fault. He wasn’t expecting you to look at him directly; but you did, and he forgot how to breathe. You were still beautiful, as if the time had stopped just for you. Your eyes, lips, nose… Every inch of you drowned him in nostalgia. He remembered how he’d looked at you and you’d looked back at him like you two were the only beings in the universe. He remembered how he used to kiss you starting from your forehead to your chin. If the mood was right, he would slowly nibble at your little sensitive spot just under the right ear, and from there to your neck. Soon after, he would keep going down to ravish your whole body.

He tried to recall how your lips felt like on his skin. You would kiss him gently when you had to wake him up from his slumber, and he would groan to protest. He would smile into the kiss, make you giggle to. He loved your laugh and every sound you’d make whenever you opened your pretty little mouth. From your most heartfelt laughters to your sexiest moans, he remembered them all like yesterday. He missed them; he missed you.

And your eyes… Your eyes that held the galaxy in them. They had never left him, always looking with lust in his most private dreams. The eyes used to brighten his darkest nights… He focused on your eyes solely with a hope to see the beautiful Milky Way in them, but what he’d seen broke his heart. The galaxy was gone along with the warmth always melted him on the spot. The stars were now replaced by meteors wandering aimlessly in the void. Your eyes were looking lost; they were focused on his eyes but somehow it felt like they were trying to see something behind them, something placed way deeper. Jimin could see pieces of hope scattered in your eyes, barely shining but still there. Seeing this, he once again remembered the grave sin he’d committed. He should have never left you. He did this to you, and he never hated himself more than this very moment.

Jimin’s strong gaze made you uncomfortable, but you refused to look away. You needed validation, a proof that the man you were looking in the eye was your Jimin. You tried harder, looked deeper; but, the feeling never came. You couldn’t see him; he was not there anymore. He was someone else, like how you were. Life has been harsh for you both, forcing you to change. You’d done your best to hold on, you were sure he did the same, too. Because that’s how life is like, adapt or die.

Suddenly, Namjoon’s loud voice tore your thoughts, as keen as a fine knife.

“____, tell me what is wrong?! Just don’t avoid my questions anymore, please. I need to know why you’re crying.”

‘Crying…? What?’

You touched your cheeks; they were indeed wet. It was hilarious how you didn’t notice your own tears pouring down. They were visiting the corner of your lips and then reaching your chin. Out of curiosity, you licked the liquid. It was salty, of course; but you tasted something else, too. It tasted like disappointment. Then you realized that the liquid escaped from your eyes, was actually the poison itself; it was pouring out of you, not finding any more cell or joint to fill up. It was spilling out of your eyes. You used to wonder how it would look like in real life, an image of tar was always in your mind; but this transparent form of it had never once crossed your mind. It was looking exactly like tears, taking you aback.

You were sure, however; you knew that it was the poison. You were feeling the fullness inside of you, organs crushing in the fluid surrounding them. Especially your heart was finding it hard to work properly, your lungs were almost giving up. You were full and now it was spilling. One drop fell down to the red tablecloth—like any of the other thing in the restaurant, you guess it was an expensive piece. Looking at the wet spot on the soft fabric, you came back to your senses and without giving it a chance to spoil your makeup any further; you grabbed the nearest napkin and pressed it to your cheeks and eyes, careful not to ruin your mascara.

“I’m sorry Namjoon. I’m as surprised as you are. I don’t know what happened to me. It’s just… I think I got overwhelmed for a second there. I’m sorry. I’ll be okay once I go to the restroom, excuse me please.”

As you were making your leave, he grasped your wrist and didn’t let you stand up. You gasped. He sighed and spoke,

“You have nothing to apologize for, I should be the one to do so. I’m sorry for rising my voice; it was stupid of me. I was just- I was just worried. From the moment we came here, your mind has been somewhere else. You barely said anything and just got lost in your thoughts. You sure you okay? If you want to, we can leave now. Just say the word, I’m here.”

After finishing what he’d thought to say from the moment he had realized something was off, Namjoon closed the gap between you two over the table. He stretched his right arm towards the torn napkin piece stuck to your left cheek, wet from your tears. His fingers gently brushed your skin as he picked up the piece. You couldn’t help but notice the unnecessary contact he displayed. You were not uncomfortable because of his touch, no, but because of your heart speeding up despite the ivy surrounding it. And this was causing an intolerable pain deep in your chest. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, it wasn’t supposed to feel something.

You held your breath until he took his seat once again, thinking t it would help you calm down. It was your first time seeing him this compassionate. You muttered a thanks and then left your table, heading to where the restrooms were.

The restrooms were placed at inner left corner. Men and women both were using the same entrance and then separating their ways. You stopped at the common entrance for a second and looked back, seeing Namjoon checking his phone. Then you felt someone else’s gaze over you; sliding your eyes a little to left, you saw Jimin looking back at you. He, however, didn’t give you enough time to interpret his expression; facing the lady sitting in front of him and saying something. You saw his lips moving but couldn’t determine the words. Leaving him like that, you continued to walk further, finding the door for ladies and entering.

As expected, the restroom was also high quality. Looking at the crystal chandelier swinging from the ceiling, you once again found yourself doubting what the fuck were you doing there. This was simply going overboard. Deciding on finishing as quickly as you could manage, you stood in front of the big mirror placed above the sinks. It was embellished with gold leaves around the corners; the taps were also gold.

You swore under your breath and turned on the hot water. When the temperature was right, you placed your hands under it. That felt refreshing. At that moment you noticed your shaking hands. You squeezed them slightly to stop them. With the water, it looked like it worked; they were not shaking anymore. You wanted to splash some water to your face but the damn makeup was holding you back; since you had left the table in a hurry, you forgot to bring your purse with you.

A sign made its way throughout your mouth as you turned off the running water. Looking at the mirror, you thanked Namjoon for buying you a quality mascara, or else it would be ruined by now after all that crying. Actually, you thanked Namjoon for a lot of things: The dress you were in, this classy restaurant he brought you and paid for all those expensive chef’s specials… But most importantly, you thanked him for helping you gain your life energy back—though at some point he didn’t know where to stop. He was one of your coping mechanisms; you relayed on him to make you forget. He was the one who helped you create The Fog of Remedy; maybe he was the fog itself. You didn’t know for sure. However, denying his impact on your life would be something only a fool would do. You were not a fool, certainly not, and this simple fact was the cause of why you hated yourself.

He was a good person; generous, kind, thoughtful (sometimes way too much thoughtful). He knew what you’d been going through at the time when you two first met. He’d been aware that someone else had your heart with them. Even though he was far, far away, his clutches hadn’t been letting go off you. But he still had accepted to see you, be with you. You told him numerous times that you wouldn’t ever love him like you did for Jimin, that he would never be The One despite how much effort he put in it. And all he’d said was he knew all the consequences and was still accepting you no matter what. He was the one who has suggested to date; he was the one who had chosen you; but still you could shake off the feeling of you taking advantage of him. He was giving you so much, but all you were doing was crying over a man who left you five years ago. You were feeling bad for not returning his love back to Namjoon; it was getting swallowed by the black hole within you, that dark abyss of self-hatred.

Namjoon truly was a good man; he deserved more than this, more than you.

You were still looking at the mirror, lost in thoughts and the memories embedded in your eyes. The sudden opening of the door made you jump, testing your reflexes. They were still working, good.

The woman who had entered the room looked at you, as surprised as you are. She then closed the distance between you two in a second and whilst doing so she spoke, concern was leaking out of her mouth:

“Oh mine, did I scare you, honey? You look like you saw a ghost. I know I’m old but I don’t plan to die anytime soon.”

She laughed, her voice echoing among tiles on the walls. Seeing your panicking face, you not knowing how to answer back; she continued softly to save you from the burden.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t control my strength. It happens sometimes when you come to this age.”

As she kept coming closer, you found it easier to examine her features. She was an elderly woman, probably in her mid-fifties or even older than that—you’d learned to not to judge a book by its cover, especially in this world. Her gray tinted hair was made into a decent bun; her eyes were as clear as still water despite her age, emphasized with a subdued make up. Her untouched wrinkles were looking like holding so many memories, like they had so many stories to share.

You loved how she looked so naturally stunning. Her dioptase and diamond necklace and earrings were completing the pine green dress she wore. Everything was in place, everything was complimentary. She was doubtlessly from the world of elites; she owned it all as if she was born for this—just like Namjoon.

“I’m okay, really. I was just lost in thoughts, that’s why I reacted so absurdly. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Her eyes directed at you were as if they were looking into your soul, but not hastily. They had this motherly tenderness in them, the kind that would make you want to cry on her shoulders for hours as she pats your back rhythmically. Her gaze felt more like she was checking you out if you were okay as you claimed to be. But then they narrowed, had she found something?

“You don’t look okay, young lady. And I’m sure that’s not just because of that little incident we had. Now tell me, are you okay?”

Tonight for once, you wanted to be honest. You wanted to be true to yourself, so you looked straight into eyes of the beautiful woman standing in front of you; smiling sadly,

“No… No, I- I’m not okay.”

You fought to stop the building tears, but it was a futile attempt. They ran, and you chased.

You always hated being a burden to people around you. Even when the time Jimin had left, you’d lived everything inside, suffering silently. The storms must not reach the others, just you. But now, you were crying… in front of a complete stranger. Not knowing her name, her age, her job… But this vagueness calmed your heart, freed your emotions. You were vulnerable, and that was okay, for the first time in your life.

You saw here blurry form hesitating over whether to hug you or to let you be, at the end she put her hand on your arm and rub it comfortingly. It did wonders, and you thanked her.

“I’m sorry. It might not look like it, but actually I’m not the type to burst into tears in front of people. The things happened today finally started kick in, I guess. I’m sorry again, and thankful as well.”

She smiled sympathetically, showing her adorable dimples. It warmed your heart.

“It looks like a personal matter, so I won’t meddle any further than this. But I do want to give you an advice, if you can accept this old lady’s habit came with age.”

You nodded slowly, giving her the cue she needed to continue.

“To me, it looks like you have too much weight. You might think you need them all, but believe me, you don’t. Once you sit down and think you’ll see it too-the unnecessary weight you’ve carried all this time. You need to throw them down to rise. You’ll soar like a bird.”

“Your sky might be still dark; but when you pass the clouds, the moon and the stars shall brighten up your darkest nights. So trust me, just let go. Because if you continue to carry the weight, it will drag you down further; and when you pass the line, the naked branches of trees sharpened like knives will be there, waiting for you.”

The lady was frowning now, exposing the deep wrinkles around her eyes and between her eyebrows. You looked at her with round eyes. You wanted to deny, to once again start play the blind; but she was right. She was right ‘till the fucking end. And you were frightened, confused. Noticing the face you were making, she grabbed your shoulders and gave them a fine squeeze. Her action made you return to reality. You had to make a choice, and you had to do it as soon as possible. The weights were not only dragging you down, but the people around you too. For their sake, for your own sake. You had to cut their ropes immediately, free yourself from that burden.

You thought about the first thing had appeared in your mind while listening to her. The seeds of the idea were already had been sown from the beginning, but not until now you realized their roots caging your heart in. It sounded wrong, stupid; but you’d decided. You were going to do it no matter what the consequences will be. It was your life, your call. And broken hearts were inevitable. You had collected the shreds before, you could do it once again; nothing was new.

You smiled, her glassy eyes shining under the soft yellow light of the crystal chandelier

“Thank you so much for your advice, ma’am. I’ll keep it in my heart.”

“In your heart…? Aren’t you a peculiar one.”

She chuckled softly.

“I think I have to return now, someone’s waiting for me. Thank you once again and have a nice evening.”

You smiled.

“You too, young lady.”

You left the restroom after that, saying goodbye to the woman and the chandelier. You were now at the common corridor, the mind full of thoughts. You were looking down while walking, not noticing the person standing on your way. You bumped into them, fortunately you were not hurrying to return your table—not really looking forward to it, either. Your head hit their chest; it hurt more than you would anticipate. You didn’t look up yet, but their muscles were something; they didn’t feel that buff, more like an athletic body.

The person you bumped held your upper arms with their two hands, forcing you to look up. And you did, but you regretted. You’d blinked a few times to adjust the blinding white light coming from the back, you were looking like an idiot, probably. Who could blame you, though? The fucking quality fluorescents were to blame, not your eyes fell victim.

He moved his head to left—The person was a man, you’d figured it out that much—blocking the light burning your eyes. The more your eyes focused, the more strongly you wished to vanish. Your brain was screaming at you to run as far as you can, leave the country, burn your phone, get a new ID, start a life away from all of this. However, it was too late, he had his claws on you now; there was no escape.

You saw his moving lips but his voice wasn’t reaching you. You tried to focus with all your might on what he’d been saying . You caught a few things, but your brain refused to put a meaning into them. Jimin was looking at you worriedly now, you felt his fingers going deeper on your flesh. The pain worked, you once again started to hear, the voices of people speaking, forks and knives grazing the porcelain… But you had to focus on him, so you faced him properly this time; only one word spilling out of your mouth:

“Park Jimin… “

His eyes widened for a split-second; then they melted with affection, softened and sparkly. He was dazzling.

His red plump lips opened slightly—the redness was caused by him chewing them out of stress, no doubt. He spoke, his silky voice caressing your ears and leaving red blossoms behind.

“Hello, ____”

↠A/N pt.2: Hellooooo!!!! I’M BACCK!!! I’m sorry, this took me ages to post but I’m satisfied with the outcome and I hope you are too. This is my longest post so far and it’s only the first chapter. I’m planinig to make this serie two chapters long. I’ve already started to write the second chap. My uni’s starting so I’m not really sure how long will it take me to post it, but I’ll try to finish it asap. Thank you so much for reading. Have a nice day!!! 💜

And if you like it please like or reblog so that I can see!!!

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touchmycoat · 5 years ago

Note

you said hot doctors au with marco/sabo/law and talked about how Marco wouldn't fit the usual medical kink role because he isn't the type to have a god complex and all i immediately thought about the delicious contrast between marco and law (who i definitely see having a god complex). sharing my thoughts with you to thank you for driving me crazy :)

you’re welcome i have way too much on my writing docket to make this happen properly rn argh but yes?? hello??? this is it??

God Complex vs. Martyr Complex. Like, the things that they get off on the most are just on the opposite sides of the spectrum. For now, I’m entertaining the idea that they really just can’t turn their respective Things on for one another. Like, sure, a man who will happily take his knife? Sign Law the fuck up! …Except this was Marco, a colleague whom Law actually does respect ‘cause competence is great, and just on the basis of that Law has a hard time indulging that sort of scene. And on the flip side, someone who should happily cut him down and open? Marco’s all about that. Except same problem. Unless they find something genuinely spicy about each other, they’re p much just amiable colleagues who are eyes emoji at one another sometimes but no catalyst.

…And then enter catalyst. Sabo has, y’know, all sorts of potential ways to connect with Marco (take your pick; it’s 8AM i’m not ready to be sad about Ace yet). So maybe Sabo used to be a patient, a long time ago. They got along great (if a patient cracking open Marco’s bedside manners to reveal the darkest banter underneath could be called great), but obviously Sabo peaced out. Years later, maybe they meet at a bar, reconnected (because Marco never forgets a patient and Sabo’s pleasantly surprised to have not been forgotten).

So they start dating. But uh oh, one potential snafu, and Sabo has to go in for some sort of specialized check-up. I haven’t thought about medical specialties yet, but anyways, Sabo has to see Law. They get along great as well (their bitching match), and Law has everything pinging everywhere except obviously this is a patient. Oh and that’s definitely Dr. Marco strolling in looking embarrassed about Sabo’s PDA—the PDA that was most definitely put on for Law’s benefit, but not in a “back off I have a man” way, more in a “look what I can do, look what we can do” way that got Law all considering…

(Both Sabo & Marco are poly so we’re just havin’ fun. Put in some lag in communication though for optional angst.)

But Sabo can flirt all he wants; as long as he’s a patient it’s never going to happen. However, Law can certainly turn all his, hm, curiosity onto Marco. Turns from more-or-less polite “oh i’m sorry about that” “don’t worry about it it’s fine,” to, “dating an ex-patient hm? that’s interesting,” to, “so do you like it when your boyfriend flirts with other doctors or is that just for him?” Maybe not in the same conversation, but Law’s sensed that blood in the water now. He’s seen the way Sabo could get under Marco’s skin and, call it what you want (a god complex isn’t off the mark) but Law kind of wants to try his hand at it too.

As for Marco… That moment of possibility between him and Law can only spark if he lets it, right? He can certainly go cold and proper, tell Law all those comments are perfectly unprofessional, and they’re not things that truly bother him so Law can fuck off. But. But. There was something in Law’s examination room that day, a specific frequency that Law and Sabo fell into, that really piqued Marco’s interests. Sabo loves teasing and chipping and digging his fingers into cracks until everything came apart, and Law was ready to let Sabo open him up but in a way that dared Sabo to fucking find out what’s underneath. And there’s always been something in Law’s manners, the cool clip of his tone, that Marco hardcore respected in a surgeon (okay Law’s a surgeon) and knew Sabo would be all about…

So Marco doesn’t shut it down. Instead, he… suggests. It wasn’t my idea yoi, but to use his words, ‘once you get naked under a man’s cold stethoscope you never go back’ and, Flirting? Sabo? Well he does like to provoke. Don’t mind it too much hm? He’s just like that.

Which all, of course, just get Law more fired up; he’s tantalized, he’s challenged… Finally, whatever Sabo went into the hospital for is all cleared up, nothing’s serious, they can get the show on the road. I’m thinking there’s an international conference or something, and Marco brings Sabo. They’re all outside their regular space, and the possibilities seem endless. Law is lying in wait at the lobby bar, just kicked back and chilling with a drink. Sees Marco & Sabo come through from some romantic dinner or some shit, and gives them a look. Sabo looks smug and goes for the elevator. Marco smirks too, and beckons Law over with a nod of his head.

The things Marco & Law do can be very similar on the surface, but they have wildly different motivations. Sabo learns as much that night. He’s used to having to egg Marco on, pinch and pull for a while until he can finally get Marco to snap—but Marco’s ultimately about service. The way he snaps is still utterly wrapped in “ah, alright, so this is what I can do for you.” And that’s fucking lovely! Sabo doesn’t want gentle by any stretch of the imagination, but he could take… tender. He could take the aftercare, he could take the way Marco had to heavily research things to do to Sabo. Sabo even appreciates it. Like, that’s love, baby.

But Law. Motherfucking Law is the truest sadist Sabo’s ever got to encounter. It’s thrilling, all the shit he can think up to incite, at first, discomfort. This position or, hold it there and keep still and, if you mess this up we’ll have to start over, won’t we. Law’s demand of perfect performance and all the tests designed for Sabo to fail. Sabo fucking loves it, loves all the cards being stacked against him like that and just made to work but getting continually put in his place by a continually unimpressed Law and—

Marco loves it too. He puts on a damn good show for Sabo but it’s also great to see Sabo having the time of his life here. And then—so Sabo can brat it up at Marco all he wants, and Marco will respond with varying degrees of indulgence. But the moment Law baits him? That’s a challenge. That’s Law trying to take total control of the scene and Marco knew better than to let him. Watch that initial respect for another doctor transmute into disdain (for this scene); what kind of god does Law think he is, Marco’s perfectly competent, has been perfectly competent at pleasing Sabo and now Law thinks he can just saunter in and—?

Not so above it all, are you? Law says as they just, double-team Sabo I guess. Law’s sadism is all sharp stings, but Marco’s caresses are a different kind of sadistic, at least for Sabo, who hates gentle, who grits his teeth and grins at pain but really might cry at gentle.

(and that’s for other hot doctors!AU anon, brb…..)

#anon #this is so gaaaaahh #i'm glad hot doctors AU piquing everybody's interests #marco #sabo #trafalgar law #rated m under cut #i also love thinking about how marco can't indulge a medical kink while law 100% can #yeah for sure he'll play the unscrupulous doctor #he'll tell you to bend over and spread and clinically work you open 'til you cry #ahem anyways

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unseemingowl · 5 years ago

Text

This or That: Fanfiction Edition

Snagged this off of @bunivys

Slow burn or love at first sight: Don’t hold with love at first sight in real life, and don’t care much for it in fiction either. Give me all of the agony and ecstasy of characters two people slowly falling in love until the tension snaps and they are all over each other.

Fake dating or secretly dating: If the fake dating is for an undercover mission or something work related, it’s the best, although a bit of making the ex jealous or ”please help me get my parents off my back for not having a boyfriend/girlfriend” is good too.

“Oh no, there’s only one bed” or long distance correspondence: It’s a classic for a reason, so much potential for sexual tension and close talking.

Hurt/comfort or amnesia: Would choose hurt/comfort every time, although that is not to say that I haven’t read good amnesia fics.

Enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers: Both, but the drama for the first one is just so delicious.

Mutual pining or domestic bliss: Mutual pining, I like me some angst and some drama.

Smut or fluff: Look I like fluff, but I rarely read – or write – anything that isn’t at least rated mature. I just really want them to get it on, okay, so fluff mostly if it comes after sex or with a healthy slice of sexual tension.

Fantasy au or Modern au: If I were to choose though, it’s modern, although I’m keen to read that medieval AU Bunivy’s talked about in hers!

Alternative universe or future fic: Kind of neither? I’m not much of an AU fan actually, and rarely write it myself (cue me rolling my eyes at my own hypocrisy since I’m working on one right now). There are plenty of exceptions of course, but generally I like my fic to be set in universe close to the time the action is set.

Kid fic or Road Trip fic: Does kid-fic refer to fics where the characters are children or where they have children? First is nice, not a big fan of the second. So road trip fic just to be safe.

Canon compliant/missing scenes or fix-it: I want more canon all the times, and if fic fills out what strange narrative jumps or bit swathes of time, I want to know what’s going on. That’s why I wrote My Lover of Blood and Milk, although I suppose it can in someways be characterised as a sort of fix-it fic too?

Reincarnation or character death: Neither.

One-shot or multi chapter: I love me some multi chapter, but it’s such a bigger commitment, especially these days where I’m trying to do better on commenting. I can always gobble up a one-shot.

Time travel or isolated together: I feel like such a bad Doctor Who fan by crossing out time travel, but I just liked isolated better.

High school romance or middle aged romance: I prefer characters to be around the same age as me, so mid-twenties and up. I guess that’s closest to middle age?

Arranged marriage or accidental marriage: Neither is a go to trope, but accidental marriage as a concept is just inherently funny, it’s just like oops, guess we’re married!

Sci-fi au or magic au: You put a spell on me.

Neighbours or roommates: I dont know, roommate fic is generally hotter, but neighbours is generally funnier I think?

Body swap or gender-bend: Not a big fan of either, but have read a bunch of hilarious body swap fics over the years.

Angst or crack: ANGST, just punch my feelings in the face!

Apocalyptic or mundane: Really depends a lot on which fandom it's for, but generally mundane.

Consider yourself tagged if you’d like a go :)

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justsomeoneunordinary · 2 years ago

Note

you: -tells people to send you ships-

me, literally just woke up: oh i gotta get in on this

♥️ ♥️ ♥️

sam x rhodey x tony (look...im sorry but you already know i'm unhinged about them)

sam x rhodey (samrhodeytony may hit me hard but sam and rhodey hit me Personally)

bruce x rhodey (i feel like they would be so sexy genius and soft)

wong x rhodey (idc about the mcu at this point but i think wong has become my fav in phase ??? i mean like. i just think he's neat)

loki x tony x rhodey (this one is hella new to me. woke up one day and visited my wip folder only to find a new "ironfrostmachine" tab and ngl i'm intrigued by my past self)

you just waking up 🤝 me still awake at 1am cos what even is sleep

samrhodeytony: