#part of the issue i think is that my nightmare coworker just called us all for a meeting on monday to “talk about work standards”

[benoitblanc]

someone tell me to start packing my flight is in two days

[darlingmbappe]

The Loneliest [2] | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Epilogue]

Summary: The transition period after calling off your engagement has broken both you and Kylian. He needs to have you back, but you can’t handle having your heart broken again.

Warnings: pure angst, heartbroken reader, heartbroken Kylian, cussing, lots of crying. I switched perspectives between the reader and Kylian. — English is not my first language —

Kylian had racked up quite a large amount late fees the following month after your breakup. He never used to have issues going to sleep at night or waking up to go to training before this, but he just let himself scroll through his camera roll for hours on end.

He would emerge himself in that reality, smiling, giggling whenever your digital image did something goofy. He remembered which outfits he helped you pick out, fixating his thoughts on the ‘K’ necklace that he gave you shining around your neck in every frame. Then, due to the fault of a notification or a car alarm going off, he would snap back into the reality of his new life.

These are just memories now. He wouldn’t be able to take your picture again, hear your grainy morning voice, make your coffee so perfectly that you’d hum in gratitude.

Achraf knew about the breakup, but Kylian asked him to keep it hush since he didn’t feel like talking about it most of the time. Some nights, though, he finds himself on the phone with his mother without thinking about the fact that it’s past 2 o’clock in the morning. She (of course) picks up every time, being there for her little boy with a broken heart, her own heart breaking with the thought of you not coming around anymore.

Today, he made it to training just on time, barely smiling at the PSG camera crew that follows them around. Usually if somethings bothering him, football is his medicine. He goes out, distracts himself by making goals and perfect tackles, but it wasn’t until you were gone that he realized he needed you there to bring it all together. He hated how codependent he had become, sometimes subconsciously wishing he’d never met you at all. Maybe then his heart wouldn’t feel like it was being ripped out piece by piece.

“Okay, seriously?” Glatier grunted, blowing the whistle after Kylian had missed yet another easy goal. “Kylian!” He called over. Kylian cussed under his breath and jogged over to the frustrated coach, his teammates just as frustrated with him for his performance recently. “What the hell is going on with you? Where’s your head at?!”

Kylian looked at his feet, hands resting on his hips. “Sorry, coach.”

“No, not ‘sorry’, Kylian. You’ve been somewhere else for weeks. I need you to explain yourself before we start benching you.”

Kylian bit his cheek, still focused on the pitch under his feet, begging his body to suck the lingering tears back in. He looked up at his awaiting coach, nodding. “There’s no excuse, coach. I’m right here, I’ll do better.”

Glatier looks at him apprehensively, expecting to hear how the pass wasn’t placed right or some other bullshit that Kylian used to blame his shortcomings on, but notes that something is definitely off with the star player. “Alright, then.” He says, keeping eye contact, blowing the whistle twice, sending everyone to do a different drill.

Kylian sniffles as he runs back toward his team, Hakimi pats him on the back upon seeing his glossy eyes.

You had been a mess yourself, occupying yourself with your own job. Coworkers started calling you a hard ass once you decided to take charge of the group meetings, having to have control of something ever since your love life vanished. They were also oblivious to the fact of you and Kylians breakup, feeling as if the news was better off left to his PR team.

You’d settled nicely into the hotel life, enjoying complimentary breakfasts and free valet parking, but finally found a move-in ready apartment close to the office. It’d been a nightmare having your entire life packed into your car, taking up every ounce of room you had in there. There were times you convinced yourself that you were fine, but realized it was just a lie every night when you popped a sleeping pill and craved looking into Kylians eyes. You resorted back to his Instagram so often, clicking the same post every time.

The night you left, Kylian posted something for your birthday. At first, you ignored the notification, deleting the app altogether. That lasted about an hour. You redownloaded it once your curiosity took control of your body, having to know what the hell your newly-ex fiancé tagged you in. You assumed at some point he’d take it down, but it’s been thirty four days and it’s still the last thing on his feed.

You laid in the neatly made hotel bed, your fingers doing their own thing, rereading his caption until you heard your heart crack — like it did every time you found yourself here.

@k.mbappe: To the love of my life; you’re the best things that’s ever happened to me. Sometimes I can’t even believe how lucky I got. Getting to know you and getting to love you was the biggest privilege of my whole life. I hope this year gives you everything you need. I will love you always. — Ky.

You think back to the night that photo was taken a lot. It was at Neymar’s New Years Eve party, a few months before he proposed. Kylians hand was permanently attached to your waist. He looked at you every time something funny was said, wanting to laugh with you. He bragged about your accomplishments to everyone there — as if anyone in the room wasn’t more impressive than you, seeing models and athletes around every corner. At some point, you’d lost him and the clock was ticking down, five minutes until midnight. As you turned down a hallway, you heard his voice coming from one of the rooms.

“She’s the one.” Kylian stated, a giggle following right after. You never meant to eavesdrop on him but now you had to — back pressed against the wall as you tipped your ear closer to the open door.

“Man, she’s awesome.” Neymar’s voice responded.

“I know. I can’t ever stop smiling.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s creepy.” They both laugh, you bit your lip to keep yourself from squealing. Neymar continues. “You deserve someone great like her.”

Kylian pauses, you wait for him to say something. “What if I fuck it up?”

You feel your heart tug at his insecurity, but stop yourself from running in there and kissing him until the silly thought leaves his head. “You won’t. I can tell that she loves you a lot. Just, show her how you feel about her every day and you can’t fuck it up.”

The lull in the conversation gives you time to skip into the room. They both look at you and smile, Kylians eyes shining with love as you make your way to sit on his lap by the window.

“There you are.” You kiss his crinkled cheek. “Been looking for you. It’s almost midnight.”

He hums and pulls you closer to him.

“Aww!” Neymar teases in an exaggerated tone, standing from his place and whips out his phone, snapping a candid picture of the two of you. “What a cute couple.”

You quickly closed the app, throwing your phone far away from you on the bed.

“Fuck that.” You cried, stuffing your face in the mattress to collect your tears. You were so angry at him, but you wanted to talk to him. Slap him. Kiss him. Make him regret everything.

Your feelings have never been so crossed in your life. Of course you knew ending your relationship would be hard, but not debilitating. You didn’t expect to have to find new ways to not think about Kylian. How are you going to do this forever? Will this crippling coldness ever leave you alone? The signs all point to Kylian, but you don’t even know if he’ll be up to talking.

Blocking his number was an easy decision. While you were confident that you made the right move at the time, it doesn’t feel that way anymore. You reached back and grabbed your phone, settling down and wiping any remaining tears from your face.

The amount of times you’ve unblocked Kylian probably has broken some sort of record. You’ve been to really low places in the past few weeks, but the fake it ‘till you make it mantra somehow found it’s way into your system, hearing it buzzing in your ears like an annoying fruit fly.

Clicking the unblock button was simple. Trying to find something to say was beyond difficult.

You typed and backspaced and typed and backspaced until you were ripping your hair out. It was either too weird or too forward, but all of it was too scary.

Almost half an hour had passed, still trying to manage some sort of communication with him. Everything felt wrong, maybe today wasn’t the day. Just as you were about to reblock him, your phone buzzed.

Kylian: hello?

Shit. Of course he decided to text you right when you unblock him.

While you were freaking out about this turn of events, Kylian was holding his breath. When he saw the three dots appearing and disappearing on his phone screen over and over again, he felt like he struck gold. He just needed some way back into your life. And although small, this was an opportunity he couldn’t ditch out on.

You stared at the message, trying to take deep breaths. You should be chill. You’d texted Kylian a gazillion times in your life, but considering the circumstances, panic seemed fitting.

“Okay, (Y/N). Pull it together.” You mumbled to yourself, clearing your throat.

(Y/N): hi

You sent the message quick with no time to think twice. You facepalmed, now overthinking those two little letters. You waited impatiently for his reply. He was taking too long for your liking, but the time displayed at the top of your screen hadn’t moved. Not even a minute passed before he said something back.

Kylian: so you decided to unblock me?

Kylian: how are you?

He didn’t give you a chance to really respond to his first question, so it was easy to ignore it. But the second question had much more weight behind it.

How are you? Really?

You were tempted to type back ‘like my soul was sucked out and repeatedly backed over by a semi truck full of loaded diapers’, but that seemed like a bit much.

(Y/N): I’ve definitely been better.

You waited again, wondering if you should ask him how he’s doing, too. You saw the typing bubbles, but they disappeared. Once, twice, three times until he finally messaged back.

Kylian: did you want to talk?

You sighed, throwing your head back and staring at the ceiling. Fuck. Why did he have to ask that? Of course you wanted to talk — but this seems like the beginning of a very slippery slope. Going back to him was exactly what you wanted. You wanted to take him back and hug him and kiss his stupidly plump lips until you couldn’t anymore.

At the same time, you’re so vulnerable right now. You knew that taking him back this quickly would definitely cause an issue; whether it just be second guessing yourself or realizing you were wrong, and leaving him twice was something your heart absolutely could not handle.

Kylian: im sorry if that was too forward

You didn’t realize how long you were lost in thought for. You looked down at the message taunting you in your lap, sighing.

You: no, it’s fine.

You: when are you free?

You didn’t know it, but Kylian, Hakimi, and Ramos all jumped up and cheered when you sent that message. They shook his shoulders around in excitement, all too invested in the young couples relationship.

“Vamos!” Screamed Ramos, hugging the group.

“Okay, okay, shut up!” Kylians smile wrinkled his eyes shut for the first time in forever, sitting back down on the training bench.

Ramos happened to walked by when Kylian was crying to Hakimi, which Kylian was super embarrassed about, but Ramos was a genuinely good friend of the two of you, so now he felt personally affected by this breakup.

“Come on, quickly. What do I say?”

“That you are free tonight. Dios mío.” Ramos tusked like it was the most obvious thing in the world… and it was.

Kylian: tonight after training?

Kylian: I can pick you up, we can go get some dinner?

(Y/N): how about I just meet you at the training center?

There was no way you’d allow for this to be a date. If you let him wine and dine you, your heart would melt into a puddle that spelled out his name.

Kylian: perfect, cant wait

Kylian: I’ll see you later

You smiled down at your phone, putting a thumbs up to his last message and shut it off. Allowing your smile to finally spread across you face, you breathed out a giant huff that weighed down your lungs.

The happiness passed quickly, your mind remembering the way he was before. Aloof, distracted, snappy… You we’re still holding onto the old Kylian. The one that took you on spontaneous picnics, the one who would pull over on the side of the highway on his way home and hand-pick you a bouquet because the wildflowers looked pretty, the one that never forgot to kiss you goodnight, even if he was already asleep when you crawled in next to him.

The expectations for tonight were all over the place. Your mind raced with the possibilities of how it would end. Would you lower you walls for him again? Are you even capable of that? He hurt you down to your core, his actions broke you down into an insecure shell of yourself.

The end of the day came, and by now, the word had spread to the rest of the team about the breakup. Glatier patted Kylian on the back in sympathy, giving him a wise coach speach about life and love — one that didn’t really help Kylian. It was actually rather confusing. Nonetheless, he thanked his elder, mentally noting it’s best if he just sticks to coaching football.

Neymar was shaken by the news, having taken a liking to you early on in your relationship with Kylian. When he asked Kylian what was bothering him so much lately, he breathed out a heavy, “nooo!”. Comforting his teammate felt nostalgic for them both because their own relationship went through a sort of breakup at one point.

Kylian felt the end of the day inching closer and closer. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he saw you. It was important for him that he doesn’t say anything to scare you away. He wants you to see that he’s sorry and that he’s ready to prove it to you. He wants to make you laugh, make you remember that he is capable of making you happy again.

Kylian smelled better right now than he ever did after practice. He scrubbed like a maniac, fixing his hair with precision, shaving and applying after shave. He finished off with some cologne that Verratti suggested, a cool jacket that Kimpembe let him borrow. He drew the line when Sergio came for his eyebrows with tweezers, doing a nervous final check in the full length mirror. Breathing deep, he opens up his messages.

Kylian: im almost done :)

Kylian: let me know when ur here

He watched the screen, waiting for you to respond with anything. The three dots popped up again, halting his breathing when your message appeared.

(Y/N): I’m here. Come meet me by the maintenance entrance.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was rushing out of the locker room with anticipation taking over his veins, his knuckles turning white against the material of his duffle bag. He felt like he was going to throw up from nerves, but the good kind of nerves — the kind he has before an important match.

Where you were meeting him was his little hidden area. The maintenance crew got an upgraded break room with a patio, so no one ever came out this way, leaving the picnic tables open for when he needed a sneaky break. He brought you out here multiple times when you came and visited, always insisting on making out before he would go back inside.

This door always got stuck. He remembers having to shoulder it every time. He prepared himself, stepping back before lunging his body forward. Next thing he knows, he’s landed on the cold cement, letting out a loud “oof” when he went down.

“Oh my god!” He heard your sweet voice from a distance, looking up and seeing you, sideways from his position. The wind was already knocked out of him, but wow, watching you running in his direction took his breath way. “Are you okay?”

He got himself up when you approached him, he brushed himself off cooly. “When the hell did they oil that door?” Kylian points.

You stare at him before you let a small laugh bubble out, immediately getting Kylian to join in. He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed by his less than cool entrance, but mentally checks off the make her laugh box in his head.

Damn, he looks good, you thought to yourself. You kept it at bay, but you noticed how he cleaned up extra nice, tugging at your heartstrings. You can’t lie, you also spent way too long on your appearance.

“Hello,” he smiles, raking his eyes adoringly over your frame. He didn’t even notice himself inching closer to you, but you did. It made you hot under the collar just being around him again. You’d been away from him longer than a month before, but this was hard.

You gulp. “Hi.”

He set his duffle bag down on the picnic table. You had his full attention, every word he’s wanted to say to you just on the tip of his tongue. You made your way over to the bench and slowly sat down, him following suit, sitting a little closer than you wanted him to.

You scooted away slightly. “Let’s talk.” You say. He nods, turning his body toward you. “I have to be at work soon so I can’t stay long.”

His leg bounces. “Can I start?”

“Okay.”

His gaze locked on your delicate hands, wanting nothing more then to hold them tightly. He breathed deep, his nerves felt electric in his veins. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance. I fucked up and realized it too late. I should have noticed, but I didn’t. And I’m so sorry for that. For everything.” His words were slow and gentle, his eyes not knowing where to look as they bounced from your eyes to you hands to your lips, then back to your eyes again. “I’m miserable without you. I miss you. I miss you so fucking much, (Y/N).”

You sigh. “I miss you too, Kylian. Believe me, this hasn’t been easy for me, either. But, I’m not here to get back together with you. I can’t let myself do that.”

“Why?”

“Because…” You really wished you planned this talk out better because right now, you were letting your emotions run on autopilot. Yet, you kept your logical side steady on the breaks in case your heart decided it needed his comfort more than it needed peace. “Because, Kylian. I just can’t.”

You felt the anger inside of you rising to the surface. You stood up and began pacing. Kylian stood too, but his feet were frozen in place.

“You know, I didn’t even know you still loved me until I was leaving?” You stated, facing his ashamed demeanor. He opened his mouth to respond but you didn’t let him. “You made me feel like shit. For months. You drove this… this weird insecurity in me that was never there before. I couldn’t even talk to you about it because you’d just spin it on me. Do you know how shitty that feels?”

His head hung low, guilt overriding his every sense. For whatever reason, he had high expectations for how this was going to go, and it’s already not at all how he thought. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry. You never deserved that.”

“You’re fucking right, I didnt.” You snapped, brows knit tightly in anger. “Why did you change? What happened? What did I do to you that made you so angry at me?”

Kylian opened and closed his mouth, stuttering. “I…” Seeing the tears gloss your eyes brought his own forward, but he bit them back. “… I don’t know. Nothing, you did nothing wrong.”

You stared at him, sighing. You ran a hand over your cheeks once you felt some stray tears run down your face. Nodding, you sat back down, Kylian cautiously joined you further down the bench. His elbows were on his knees, eyes facing the pavement. Silence used to be comfortable with Kylian. You two could sit together for hours and not say a word, and it would feel so natural. Now, the air was thick with tension, every depressing emotion running full speed inside your loud mind.

“You remember that benefit dinner we went to in November? The one held by that super rich Fortune 500 guy?” You asked softly, breaking the silence. “That week was when I started doubting if we were even good together anymore. You hadn’t payed attention to me, touched me, listened to me in weeks. I thought it was me. That I was somehow fucking up everything we had.” Kylian listened through the sound of his pounding heart, not daring to look up. He could hear in your voice how deeply upset you were, he couldn’t take the look on your face. “I tried talking to you about it that morning. I was going to ask if you wanted to take a break… have some time to ourselves. Instead, you just turned it into a fight about me leaving the dishwasher open, or some shit like that. I ended up apologizing to you.” You chuckled, but it really wasn’t funny.

Kylian remembered, having been stressed about his difficult new physical therapy sessions. He took out his frustrations on you unfairly, but he didn’t realize that he was doing that until it was too late.

You continued. “I dressed up so nice for you that night. I wore that gorgeous blue dress you got for me, heels that absolutely killed my feet, I got my hair and makeup done by real professionals… I thought maybe I could at least get you to want me again. But, all night long, you pretty much ignored me. You only smiled at me when other people were around and you didn’t want to look like a dick. I loved it, though. It felt like the old days, when you would actually smile when I was around.”

His lip quivered, still not being able to lift his head toward you. You wanted to keep going, but knew what you were going to say next was going to hurt him and it was never about getting even. You didn’t want to put him through what he made you feel. Reluctantly, you knew you had to tell him. You had to do it for you.

“That whole night, you kind of ignored me. I had the thought that you wouldn’t even notice if I disappeared… so I did. I was on the balcony for like, an hour. All by myself. Watching you from the outside to see if you started looking for me, and you never did.” You paused to take a breath, fiddling with your thumbs. “I didn’t think I would ever tell you this, but what do I have to lose, right?” He looked up, eyes red. You looked away. “It wasn’t on purpose, but… that night, Erling Haaland and I had a great time.” You locked eyes with him when he shifted, his whole demeanor changing from apologetic to full protection mode.

“What? What do you mean?” He attempted to keep his voice clear of obvious anger, but you knew him too well.

“No, no. Not like that.” You clarified. “He came out there for a breather and saw me. I don’t think he knew who I was or that we were together—”

“Bullshit.” He mumbled, but you ignored him.

“We just laughed and talked about the last season. Nothing happened, I wouldn’t do that to you.” You weren’t going to mention how he asked for your number at the end of the night because that would send him into a spiral. “Look, I’m not telling you this to be cruel, or anything, but it’s just an example of how alone I felt… that I would spend an entire night talking with Erling Haaland of all people. He payed more attention to me that night than you did for months. It made me remember how much fun we used to have. It made me realize that you might not be that person for me anymore.” Your voice wobbled and Kylian squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his tears back in with a sharp and deep breath.

He couldn’t believe you never told him about this, but reminded himself that he wouldn’t let you. He was too cold, too defensive.

“I promise you, (Y/N) — even if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll get you back.” He swore through his wavering voice, still attempting to hold back his cries. You saw his twitching face, surfacing your own emotions.

You couldnt hold it back anymore, placing your face in your palms, letting the sobs go freely. “You’re a stupid fucking dickhead, Mbappé.” It was vulgar, but it’s just what shot out of your mouth.

Kylian knew he deserved that and more, just nodding at the new nickname, beginning to let himself cry as well. “I’m gonna change. If you let me show you, I’ll never stop proving to you how much I love you.” He grabbed your hand, tightly grasping it and kissing your knuckles.

“I think…” you sniffle, watching Kylian as he squeezed your hand in his, resting it on his face. “I think I need more time, Kylian.”

Immediately he nods, scooting closer to you. “We have time, baby. I’ll wait for you to be ready. I don’t care how long it takes.”

You and Kylian continue to cry, together. This kind of vulnerability is what you’ve been craving from him, this is the kind you had before.

“Kylian, I can’t handle having my heart broken again.” You choke. He holds you close now, forehead resting on the side of your head.

“I won’t ever be that person again.” He promised, sniffling. “I’ve never hurt this badly before. I’m not putting either of us through this torture again.”

You nod, wiping your tears and trying to calm down a little before standing up, leaving Kylian sitting alone on the bench.

“If I’m even going to entertain the idea of getting back together… we’re starting over completely. Right from the start.” You point, feeling yourself stop crying and using your sleeve to get rid of any proof that you were an absolute trainwreck.

He nods, standing up. “Okay. I can do that.” It looks like a burst of good energy just shot it’s way into his body, but the nervous demeanor stood above it, cautiously watching your every move.

“This doesn’t mean we’re getting back together. I need to know it’s the right decision. It’s too hard.”

“Of course. I’ll do anything.” You can tell Kylian is holding back from hugging you by the way his feet tap toward you, his body swaying in your direction.

You look him over, breathing in the crisp air. “Okay.” You check your watch, noticing you’ll be late if you don’t leave in the next five minutes. “I have to go now.” You say, nodding an awkward goodbye to Kylian; hugging felt like it would be weird… a handshake even weirder.

“Wait.” He stops you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and quickly pulling it back. “Am I allowed to ask you on a date now?”

You chuckle, a real one this time. “Um. Let’s wait a couple of weeks. I need some more time to process all of this. Besides, I’m moving on Friday so I’ll be pretty busy unpacking, so…”

He’s taken aback, quirking an eyebrow and trying to not looked too freaked out. “Wait… moving? Where?”

“Some place I found. It’s fine… close to the office.” You honestly didn’t love it, but it was cute. It had character. “The hotel life was getting too expensive.”

“Let me pay for that–”

“No. Non-couples don’t do that.” You say, checking the time again, walking backwards toward you car. “Look, I really have to go. Wait for me to text you, alright?”

He nods, watching your figure disappear in the dark parking lot. “I will.”

He didn’t take his eyes off your car until it was out of his sight, turning back the way he came in.

The time has come for him to cheer, celebrate, tell all of his friends… but he won’t. He might’ve managed his way back into your life, but he’s nowhere near out of the woods yet. Everyone knows how embarrassing early celebrations are, especially when they they miss the goal in the end. He’s not making that mistake. He’s just grateful for the new opportunity to prove to you that it’ll be worth it… that he’s worth it. You’ll be treated better than ever… as soon as you’re comfortable with him again.

So, no celebration for Kylian Mbappé… not counting the giddy grin and small fist pump he did when he was alone in his car.

He couldn’t stop himself. He really couldn’t.

[bluedalahorse]

Here’s a random Young Royals ask:

What career do you think Sara will have in the future? Or what do you think her dream job would be?

I hope your day is lovely and amazing!!

Thank you! I hope your day is lovely and amazing too.

This is a great ask, and one where you might get more than you asked for. In part because I’ve thought about it a lot. I have not only a dream job in mind for Sara, but also some nightmare jobs as well. (Don’t worry, it’s all related to fanfic plots living in my head, and I promise they end in a good place.)

Is it okay if I start with Sara’s nightmare job? This one sort of popped into my head as I was envisioning what a Second Chance Romance could look like between Sara and August, maybe a decade after canon where August has done a lot of work and made various restitutions to Simon and gotten much more of his shit together.

As for that story… I thought it might be interesting, as far as like, what generates a plot and character arc, to put Sara at a job that’s taking advantage of her compassion and desire for justice. In my experience it’s pretty common for younger people to end up in situations like that in their first jobs, and I think it’d be interesting if Sara was in a place where she won’t deal with that in a romantic partner anymore, but she hasn’t learned to recognize it in a work situation yet. (This is pretty common in growing up—you tackle one issue in one part of one’s life and it sneakily migrates to another part.) So she’s working this nightmare job for an autism charity I’ve sneakily called PuzzleChildren (it’s a reference, shout if you get it!) which is trying to rehabilitate its image after news breaks that they haven’t really hired any actually autistic people. Sara’s hired by them, and they sound sincere at first so she’s trying her best to make things work with her coworkers and bosses, but over time she just kind of realizes that this place is shit and has no intention of changing. And then she moves into a line of work that’s much more fulfilling for her.

And what might that be? Well, I’m still deciding, but there’s a few career paths where I can see Sara being particularly happy:

Some sort of career in Environmental or Disability Justice. I’m not exactly sure why. It’s just vibes. I do think Sara is a person who cares deeply about people and causes, and both of those are areas where I can see her learning more at university and just finding a place that makes sense for her.

Helping people, especially other neurodivergent people, using some kind of animal therapy. Doesn’t have to be horses! Or maybe Sara will train service dogs or something. It’s possible Sara’s affinity for horses could translate over to other animals, and she could find a career path in that general direction.

Graphic novelist or picture book writer. We see Sara drawing in one scene in season 1, and for that reason, she’s always been someone who likes to draw in my head. We also know she’s a keen observer of human behavior and could have some interesting insights if she ever decided to write a story. I can see her doing memoir graphic novels with a similar tone to like, stuff by Marjane Satrapi or Maggie Thrash. Of course if the monarchy’s still around they might want to sue her for her honesty. But they shouldn’t.

What do you think? I can see lots of possibilities for Sara in the future!

[roxy206]

a vent that tbh I just need to get out of my head

It’s wild just how quickly the honeymoon phase of this job ended. I had a few weeks of wow this is great, there’s no stress, I come in & do my job & leave!

Then it was oh wow my coworkers are horrible people who are transphobic & homophobic & misogynistic and and and …

And I cried on my way home too many times to count because it all felt so toxic & I didn’t know what to do. And honestly it’s so unprofessional that those conversations were even taking place on the work floor. I shouldn’t know all these opinions that these people have!

So I settled on my first step being bringing in a progress pride flag for my desk, which has resolved a lot of those issues

But the office set up is still horrible. I don’t know who the fuck thought an open concept office was a good idea — at all, but especially in an office where we’re all on the phone all day long. It’s so loud. You can hear at the very least 4 rows ahead or behind you. Forget how that impacts people trying to concentrate; it’s a fucking disaster for background noise on the phone

On top of that, yesterday they took down these plexiglass dividers they had put up in 2020 & it’s fucking horrible. First of all, I would still like that barrier for it’s intended purpose. Right now I don’t have anyone sitting opposite me, but this office plays musical chairs constantly with moving desks so who knows how long I’ll be at my desk or how long it is before someone is at the desk facing mine. But besides that, the noise level is even worse because now there’s nothing stopping voices from traveling. It’s an absolute sensory nightmare & frankly I think I’m going to say something to the office manager even though I don’t think it’ll make a difference

Also they had EMPLOYEES remove them! We have to move our own equipment, filing cabinets, etc when we move desks. Also people throw shit in the office all the time. There’s candy or balls or water bottles being launched over desks & it’s only a matter of time before someone is going to get hurt & I will be beyond furious if I’m the one who gets hit

And none of that is even related to the actual job

Which is just not working out. I feel so naive & dumb & betrayed for having had such a good feeling about this opportunity in the interview. I took the job knowing the base pay wasn’t great, but with the idea that it would be easy to make commission & easy to meet the goals for the first two base pay raises; with the idea that I would start having that billing in 2 weeks to at most 3 months.

I’ve been here for over 5 months now. I’ve done better than any of my peers in terms of production. None of us have had billing. And now it’s oh it takes 6-12 months to really get this job.

I work my ass off during the work day. I’ve found clients. And despite all of the effort, things aren’t going anywhere. And I’m losing motivation.

And there’s pressure coming down from higher up because things aren’t happening, & it’s making for a miserable environment. The past two weeks it’s felt like every morning meeting has been my manager asking why things aren’t happening & making it seem like we aren’t working hard enough or we aren’t doing things the right way. But then there’s no guidance or reasonable recommendations to make any changes

I genuinely don’t think there’s much that I could change to make any difference, but I think there are people on the team who would benefit from having their questions answered because the training you’re promised in the interview is far from the reality

This week in particular has been really bad. I’ve had a lot of disappointment with things I’ve been working on. I feel like I wasn’t as productive, which for the most part is because I had to shift some of my time to administrative shit because they keep asking for all of this data & I’ve been there for FIVE MONTHS so going through thousands of calls takes time. But then it’s why aren’t you making more calls, why isn’t your phone time higher? And then when I’m answering those questions & clearly frustrated it’s oh it’s okay, sometimes you have a bad day

But when all the days are bad days?

I don’t think I can stick it out much longer. The PTO system is bullshit though so I probably have another month before I’ll be able to have the time accrued to use to be able to go for interviews

In the meantime, I’ve been doing my best to maintain boundaries. I refuse to ever get close to burnout again. Honestly I’m still recovering from my existing burnout. Fighting the workaholic & perfectionist tendencies is hard. But it helps — kind of* — knowing I’m the person counted on the most out of my peers. I don’t need to give 150%; I don’t have the irrational fear that I’m going to get fired. I know my worth & I know that this place in particular is really fucking lucky to have me

I just wish that the potential that should have been there with this kind of role was actually there

*It does suck that every month my manager flat out tells me that it’s down to me to try to get billing. I try not to take on that pressure of it all coming down to me

Anyway. Might delete this later, but I needed to dump those thoughts somewhere

[polyhexian]

Hi! I absolutely loved your most recent toh fic! It reminded me of one of my other favorite works in this fandom and wanted to know if you have any opinions on in. 😅 It’s Liquid Gold by Notahufflepuff. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/40590327)

I keep meaning to leave reviews on each fic you put out, as I literally get stupid excited whenever I get an ao3 email with your name, and because I feel you touch on the horrific nature of Hunter & Belos’ relationship in an unusually satisfying way.

I love the violence! The relationship issues! (VEE, ahhhh! Imagine hunter goes like “yeah he called be by my number when he was really upset” and she just *reacts*)

Thank your for all your fics and well thought out plot bunnies, I look forward to reading more! :D

YEAHHHH thank you!!!

That was actually fantastic I can't believe I've not read that before lol.

To inject a bit of personal perspective; when I was eighteen I left my home country in an Exciting Human Trafficking kerfuffle and part of that meant I was lying about my age and claiming to be 24- I had papers and everything! And so I had a lot riding on people not realizing I was younger than that. People thinking I was a kid was really dangerous for me. And what's a good way to prove you're not a kid? Well, as far as I could see, being able to drink was a great way. So I went out to the bars and I would do straight shots of vodka with my coworkers and, well. If someone can top back a whole glass of vodka with no chaser and not even make a face, they must have been drinking more than a couple months, right?

Anyway. That was the idea. And also I was in an unbelievably nightmarish fucking scenario and alcohol reaaaallly helped. It got so bad at one point I was doing a shot of vodka before I left for work every morning.

So my personal perspective re: hunter is like. He is Mr terminally adultified. He NEEDS to be taken seriously. We see the other coven heads walk right out of the room. They all openly disrespect him. Belos would be so disappointed.

I imagine at all the parties hunter has something in his hands that's hard and impressive. He's walking around with a white Russian or a glass of aged bourbon. Something he can use as a crutch to prove hey, look, I have alcohol standards, hey look, I have a favourite drink, look, I care if it's cheap or expensive, I can tell the difference really because I have sooo much experience! Because I am a real grownup! Like you!

At the parties it's the fancy hard stuff, being able to identify and order multiple mixed drinks with a discerning taste. Back in his room he has a bottle of everclear under his bed that he drinks straight from the neck before bed to make the nightmares go away.

THANKS I LOVE WRITING VIOLENCE AND I LOVE WRITING VEE AND I LOVE WRITING HORRIFIC ACTS OF DEHUMANIZATION AND SUFFERING!!!!

[after-witch]

Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Title: Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve broken up with Ransom Drysdale, and you mean it this time. But the freedom that comes with the breakup leads to a series of unexpected coincidences that leave you wondering: was it worth the price?

Word Count: 8955

notes: yandere, mentions of physical abuse, financial abuse, comfort sweaters

Nothing lasts forever. Not even relationships--and certainly not love. What might start off as an intense, passionate relationship can (and did, in your case) eventually fizzle; things that you were willing to overlook when you were absolutely besotted would wear down with time, and eventually they became too much to ignore.

That’s what you tell yourself, what you remind yourself, in the moment after you tell him:

“It’s over, Ransom. We’re done. I’m leaving.”

It couldn’t last forever. Not with his inability to stay sober, not with his tendency to cheat on you with meaningless flings that somehow hurt more than any steamy single-minded affair. Not with his flare-ups of controlling tendencies that left you in tears on the bathroom floor as he asked you to please stop dressing like a slut in front of his family, is that too hard to ask?

You’d asked him to change. He swore he would; he never did. You forgave him, more than once, more times than you could count. But enough was enough. Maybe he thought you were too weak to leave him, especially three years into your relationship, when your lives were becoming so integrated, pushing you towards a potential permanent future. It was a future that left you feeling numb and anxious. Stuck in a marriage with someone who wanted to stay with you but treated you horribly, all the same. And that wasn’t even getting into the family dynamics that left your head spinning.

He stares at you now, and his mouth opens just a little bit in what you know is going to be a barrage of questions, insults, maybe even threats spurred on by your words. But instead he closes his mouth and shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter chuckle.

“Well, damn. This sucks.” You can see the indent of his tongue in his cheek before he clicks and shrugs. “Guess that’s it then. Need help packing your shit or what?”

His response is so blasé that you’re genuinely shocked and, you must admit, a little hurt. He didn’t even ask for a second chance or beg you to stay or argue with you about your terrible timing because our-vacation-to-Hawaii-is-coming-up. So it’s your turn to look surprised, and you shake your head.

“No, I… already took care of it. It’s at a storage locker.” You didn’t have family left, and your close friends had pulled away from you one by one once you stayed with Ransom time and time again--so you’d had to pay movers to help you pack and transport everything to storage over the weekend, while Ransom was away and you were free to make a clean breakup.

He nods, sticks his hand inside his jacket pockets. He’s looking around the room, avoiding direct eye contact in a clear show of his discomfort. It’s weird seeing Ransom like this--the normally self-assured, cocky Ransom, looking for any excuse not to look at you.

“So… see ya around?” His tone is sincere, if still confused. The idea of you leaving must have really never crossed his mind. The look on his face when he finally faces you again appears genuinely puzzled.

He sticks out his hand and it feels almost comical for things to end this way, particularly considering the nights you’d spent imagining some big blow up, some big fight with Ransom screaming and you firing off the many reasons why it had to end no matter what he said.

But it didn’t go the way you expected at all. It was calm. Easy. A clean break-up.

So you shake his hand and grab your purse and the small roller-suitcase and give a half-hearted wave as you walk out the door; the taxi you’d hired to pick you up is waiting, car running, meter going. You would be staying at a hotel for two weeks, which would hopefully be enough time to find a semi-decent apartment; your credit score had improved so much since Ransom added you to his cards, to a shared checking account, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to get approved.

A new life, one where you could focus on yourself for once, was just around the corner.

**

"I'm sorry, miss, but it's definitely not the reader. The card is declined."

You've had this nightmare before. No, you've lived this nightmare before--years ago when your credit was shit and you ran up your cards and had to face the music in a publicly humiliating display with the longest checkout line you'd ever seen behind you. Only that was years ago, in a little grocery store, and since getting together with Ransom you never had to worry about problems like this. You never had to worry about the shame of not having enough, not being enough.

But this? This was happening now. In an upscale hotel. With your nice purse (a Christmas present) and designer clothes (casual, comfortable) and your cheeks flushed undeniably warm.

The hotel clerk has a tight, sympathetic smile on her face. A coworker who walks behind her glances at you, judging, and you just know he's going to head into some break room and tell everyone but yet another piece of discarded army candy with a declined credit card. You wish you'd kept your sunglasses on.

"Did it, um, say why? I don't--" you plaster a smile on your face, hating the way this all feels familiar, like a part of your past coming back to haunt you. "I don't understand, the card is good."

The clerk's smile flickers, just a bit.

"It says there's a fraud alert on this card. Perhaps you'd better call the company. Or would you like me to call them?"

Fucking. Ransom.

"Oh, oh no, don’t worry about it. I’ll call them myself. I'm so sorry about this." You turn away from the clerk as quickly as possible and step away from the counter, away from the person waiting behind you who will surely have no trouble with their card, away from the clerks giving you a passive side-eye. You lean against a cool cement pillar in the lobby and you know what you have to do.

You have to call Ransom.

You haven't deleted his number yet--you'd planned on calling him today or tomorrow to figure out how to split up your shared finances--so it's easy enough to find the number. It's not so easy to tap his contact, but you have to, so you force yourself to do it and stare at his photo as the call rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello?” Your breath catches but in an instant, when the message continues, you feel stupid. It’s his voicemail. Fuck.

You text him, instead. Emergency. Call right away. And of course: He leaves you on read. Fuck.

You call him again. And again. He picks up on the sixth call, but your heart is racing too hard and sweat is beading down your forehead and it takes you a moment to confirm that the "Hello?" wasn't part of the voicemail message this time. Fuck.

"Um. Hey," you say, keeping your voice as un-royally-pissed-off as possible, because if he did put in a fraud alert then you don't want to risk any additional asshole moves. "So there's something wrong with the card? The one that ends in 8921? The hotel said there was a fraud alert and--"

"Did you really think I'm going to keep paying for your shit if we're over?"

His voice is quick, biting--exactly what you'd expected from him earlier. Somehow it stings even harsher over the phone, where you feel more helpless, unable to avoid his words.

"I thought..." you wet your lips, trying to maintain your cool. "Look, my name is on them, so I thought send you my part of the payments until I can get cards in my own name."

He chuckles, low and short. "Yeah? What, you want to create a payment schedule or something?"

You fight back the annoyance in your tone. You hate having to be the bigger person, but your finances--your life--is on the line. "Yeah, actually, that'd be perfect. It wouldn't be for long. You know I'll pay them on time, I'm not looking to screw you over."

"You're going too pay me on time? For all the stuff you've bought, the stuff I’ve bought for you, this hotel room and god knows what else? How are you going to afford all that?"

He knows you recently earned a promotion at your work. He knows this, because you were so excited about it, and his half-assed congratulations over lukewarm leftovers left you feeling bitter and sad and useless. So you can't help it when bitterness seeps into your voice with your answer. "You know I just got a promotion."

"Did you?" It's said in such a casual tone that it gives you pause, but a moment later he simply hangs up on you.

Fucking. Ransom.

You shove your phone back into your purse, and the clerks at the counter are staring at you. Sweat has trickled down your back and your shirt sticks to your skin ever-so-slightly as you pull away from the pillar and approach the counter, awkward smile and cheeks hot.

"There is an issue with the card, they're working on it, so I’ll just call for a new reservation when it's fixed. I'm so sorry for the mix up!" Your voice is so peppy and high-pitched and fake and you feel like you’re back at your old job, feet aching with falling apart shoes, forced to deal with people returning old toasters laden with crumbs, calming they’d “just bought it the day before and it didn’t work.”

"Of course," the clerk says, and you know this is hotel clerk code for "You're a shitty liar."

You roll your suitcase out of the lobby with tears in your eyes and you shove your sunglasses on as soon as you've cleared the building. You feel exhausted, drained--so you use what little energy you have left to start googling for cheap motels.

**

The room smells musty. You pin the plastic sheet you’d snagged at a dollar store over the comforter and pray it will be enough to protect you from whatever is on the likely unwashed fabric. The TV is broken, there’s no WIFi, and there’s a few suspicious stains on the floor that make you wonder if this hotel has ever been featured in a porno, true crime show, or both.

But it’s all you could afford with the cash in your wallet. You only had enough cash on hand for 2 nights at a ragtag hotel that offers nightly and hourly rates. You didn’t dare use your debit card or any credit cards with Ransom’s name or information on them.

You just need some sleep. A good night’s sleep to feel renewed and ready to tackle retaking your life, bit by bit. In the morning, you need to go to the bank and withdraw your money from the joint bank account. Then you can reopen an account in your name, get a new debit card, and apply for a few credit cards afterwards.

Sure, it would have been nicer to do this without Ransom being an asshole. But deep down, you suspected he wouldn’t let you have a clean, lets-still-be-friends type of break. Not after all the times he’d pressured you into staying, manipulating you with words and gifts and promises, promises. Promises that were worth shit. 

The sheet crinkles underneath you as you scroll through your messages. You’d texted a few formerly close friends about the breakup earlier, hoping that they’d maybe want to reconnect. So far, you’d been left on read, blocked, and received only one response: “New number, who is this?”

So much for that. Not that you can blame them. There are only so many times they can rush over for a late night intervention in which you tell them every horrible thing Ransom does (he’s controlling, he doesn’t want me to meet with friends without permission, he tells me what I can and can’t wear, he cheats, he lies, he pushed me--)--before they get tired of you returning to him, again and again and again.

The only one who’d been texting you recently--okay, for the past year--had been Ransom. Mostly dick pics. And demands for you to send him something back, which you always did after a while, because you didn’t want to deal annoyed texts or voice messages accusing you of clearly cheating on him or hating him because why else wouldn’t you be willing to send him so much as a sexy selfie to your boyfriend? 

But in between those, there were conversations. Sometimes sweet ones, sometimes thoughtful ones that always made you remember why you fell hard for him in the first place. Late night conversations from when he was off on trips. You try not to wonder if he was fucking someone on each of these trips, if while you were sending him a late night ramble about a TV show and he was humoring you with jokes and quips, he was actually snuggled up with someone else. Laying in bed, naked, laughing at your dumb ass waiting at home.

The not-so-sweet conversations were ones that you had screenshotted and sent to your friends more than once, before they pulled themselves away. Texts asking where you were. Asking who you ate lunch with, and whether or not you were fucking them. Asking why your new office was connected to a certain co-worker’s, and how many blowjobs you had to give to get said new office because you didn’t tell him about the new office until after you were moved in, so you were clearly hiding him. Asking you to send him outfit pics so he could approve them or make you change if they were too slutty or not slutty enough or if you were only clearly wearing that halter dress to try to get with the bartender.

Yet your mind had always returned to the nice Ransom, the Ransom who made you laugh and squeezed you hard when had a shitty day of work and let you bury your face in his sweater as you snuggled on the couch. Maybe that’s why it took so long to leave.  You were waiting for him to stop being Ransom and start being the fantasy of Ransom you’d conjured in your head.

Your eyes feel heavy so you plug in your phone, turn the sound off, and lay down on the uncomfortable plastic sheet that crinkled over the pillows. It feels strange to lay on a lumpy mattress covered in plastic, after years of custom-made beds and memory foam pillows and all the other luxuries that Ransom was able to provide.

You try not to think about it too much. While you won’t exactly be indulging in all the luxuries you had with Ransom, but your job pays you well, and you won’t ever have to go back to living hand-to-mouth like you did before. You won’t have to worry about late bills and debt collectors and landlords who come late at night and demand inspections while you’re in your pajamas.

You have work in the morning. You have to get to the bank in the morning. Your thoughts are still buzzing with anxiety as you fall into an uneasy slumber.

**

“I’m sorry, but the account has been closed.”

You feel years of customer service training cracking underneath your skin. You can’t freak out. If you freak out, they won’t feel inclined to go the extra mile. You know this, from firsthand experience.

So you take a shaky breath. “Um, this just--it isn’t possible. It’s a joint account. I’m on the account. There was money in there, you can check--”

“I’m sorry, but the funds were transferred and account has been closed by the other account holder. There’s nothing I can do. I suggest contacting the other party in the account.”

You swallow and nod and walk away, this time having been smart enough to keep your sunglasses on to hide your humiliated expression. Why didn’t you insist on having your own account? Ransom said it was better to keep it joint, so you could just buy stuff whenever you wanted. You’d agreed because it was so generous, something you’d never thought possible at the time, when you were used to having to pay overdraft fees and cringing whenever you checked your balance.

Your fingers tremble as you bring up his contact on your phone. You tap. No answer.

You don’t have time to call him two, three, ten times--you have to get to work. So you steady your nerves. You breathe in, you breathe out. You get in your car and plug your phone in and decide to contact your lawyer. Fuck--your lawyer was Ransom's lawyer. But the anxiety eases when you remember that you’d paid him a retainer fee months ago, and Ransom couldn’t do anything about that. You could at least get a basic consult out of the retainer.

The call ringing sounds muffled through your car’s speaker but it isn’t long before someone answers, and you’re transferred to the lawyer Ransom insisted you have--gotta have a lawyer when you have money, babe--and that you hadn’t spoken to in ages.

“Hi,” you say, voice artificially bright, “this is--”

You don’t get a chance to finish.

“I know who this is.” The lawyer sounds tired, and his tone is curt and clipped. “I’m sorry. I’m no longer able to provide you with any legal counsel.”

You almost miss a red light and regret calling the office while you were driving.

“Is this about the debit card? Because I paid the retainer months ago--”

“The retainer has been refunded into the connected checking account.”

Your voice looses its artificial cheeriness and you stumble over your words in frustration. “That’s--it’s--it was a joint account, which is why I called, Ransom drained it and took everything. Isn’t there something we can do, because that was my money too and--”

“I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel.”

You want to cry. You hate crying, as an adult. It makes you feel weak. Especially on the phone.

“I don’t understand. Why was the retainer refunded? Did--did someone call you?”

He clears his throat into the phone. “I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel. Goodbye.”

He hangs up. Your hands shake.

You pull into the parking lot of your work and park the car and as soon as you do, you hunch yourself over the steering wheel and simply shake in frustration.

You have no bank account. Ransom drained it. You have no credit cards. Ransom blocked them. You couldn’t even talk to a lawyer, because--shock--Ransom made sure you couldn’t. Everything was in Ransom’s name. He insisted on adding you to his accounts, closing out your own paltry ones; insisted that he pay off your credit card debt, and making you close those, too, instead adding you to his cards. It was all to help you out, he said, at the time.

Wasn’t it? He was shockingly not judgmental about the state of your finances, and while you’d put up some protest, you didn’t exactly argue with him when he suggested wiping your debts clean and getting your credit back up. And considering that he wasn’t immune to needing a bail-out now and then (late night calls to his grandfather, snarky comments at his parent’s dinner table, come to mind) maybe he could sympathize with being in over your head. Even if your issues were rooted in poverty and shitty jobs and his were rooted in a total lack of financial discipline and, as you’d later found out, a drug addiction.

Still. He helped you before. He would help you now, once he realized how serious it was. For now he was just--reacting like an asshole, acting childish and ridiculous. He was an asshole. You know this. You’ve known this. You need to call him and meet with him and make him realize how ridiculous he’s being, and he’ll sigh and snark but he’ll agree to stop acting like such an ass.

But first you have to work. Life goes on. Even without Ransom--even with Ransom, screwing you over out of pettiness.

The air conditioning in the lobby is on blast, and the familiar smell of clean furniture and floor cleaner from the late-night cleaning crew is surprisingly comforting. Here, you can forget about Ransom--forget about the cards and the lawyer and the fact that your life has been upended in mere hours. If only until your lunch break, at least.

Anthony is working the front desk and you give him a a soft, if strained smile. There’s something in the smile that he gives you in return that reminds you of the hotel clerk. Sympathetic and judgmental.

Ah. You probably look like--well, less than your best, you realize. You did pack some toiletries in your suitcase but the water in the motel had streaks of brown and you didn’t shower, opting instead to rinse your face with what was left of a water bottle you’d bought earlier and layering on more deodorant to make up for the lack of a proper scrub. You probably looked a bit tired, haggard, not unlike some of the employees who got stuck with big clients the night before their paperwork was due.

Still. Nothing that freshening up in your private bathroom--thank god for the new office--can’t help. So you hit the button on the elevator and take deep breaths as you ride up, intent on working as productively as possible. The doors open and you navigate the familiar maze of open-plan desks for the lower-tier workers, desks surrounded by half-walls that always kept you staring straight ahead, lest you accidentally glance over and see a co-worker picking their nose.

Yet as you weave in-and-out of the familiar rows, heading towards the back of the room where the real offices, the ones with full walls and doors and privacy glass lay, you can’t help but feel that something is… off. 

No one calls out to greet you, though that can be easily attributed to the jealousy over your promotion. You’d been working there for far less than most of the lower level workers--Ransom got you the job, with his connections and a hefty revision of your resume and, you assume, some personal phone calls--and you’d already been promoted to senior management. That wasn’t technically Ransom’s work, though. That was all your own effort, your own blood, sweat, tears and intense devotion to each project that came your way. Sure, the connections he helped you make, the dinner parties, all that helped--but if it weren’t for your skills, the connections wouldn’t have made a difference. Right? 

Still, whatever bitterness existed in the people hunch in open-air cubicles, the receptionists always greeted you. But today they caught your eye then awkwardly glanced down, or pretended to be looking for something in their drawers. It was odd. Did you look that bad? That out of sorts?

You shake off the heavy feeling in your stomach and for once, you shut the door to your office instead of keeping it open for passers-by or people needing approval for this-and-that. It feels good to lean against the solid wood door and take a breath, a deep one, invigorating and calming.

A quick trip to the bathroom has you staring at yourself from all angles. You don’t look that bad, you reason. Just tired. But who wouldn’t be, sleeping on a plastic sheet in the shittiest motel in the area? You take a quick sniff under your arms but even that reveals nothing much but a faint hint of sweat and powdery deodorant.

There’s a firm knock at your office door and you glance at the mirror for a final once over before opening it up. It’s your boss. Did you have a meeting? You try to do a mental scan of something you’ve missed, but nothing comes to mind.

“Hi,” you say, wavering with uncertainty at the threshold. Should you invite him in? “What can I do for you? We didn’t have a meeting, did we?” You let yourself chuckle, dry and quick. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit scattered this morning.”

Your boss doesn’t return your chuckle, which immediately raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Something was wrong. Shit--you were working on a major project for a seriously important client. The type of client that could genuinely make or break a company, if you got on their bad side. You press your lips together and make a silent vow to keep it serious.

“I’d like to keep this conversation private.” His tone is low and serious and you invite him in without a second thought, shutting the thick door behind you, trying to ignore the way everyone was shooting glances as it closed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your thoughts race--no wonder everyone was giving you the stink eye. Something was wrong with the client, and you were the one making primary contact with them.

Your boss takes a seat on the leather sofa pushed up against the wall and you immediately set yourself down behind your desk.

He sighs. Short. Frustrated. Annoyed.

“We have to let you go.”

The words don’t register.

“Go where?”

It’s only after you say it that you realize what he said, what it meant, and you feel like a colossal moron in every respect.

“It’s not working out,” he continues, staring at your desk and not at your face. “Since you’ve only been in this position for a month, you don’t quality for senior severance. The best we can do is to pay you what you’ve earned this week.”

Your mouth is so dry that you don’t know if you can talk. Your hand fumbles on your desk for a water bottle you’d left overnight, and that’s when you see it--the photo frame. You keep a photo of yourself and Ransom, cuddled together for a selfie, on your desk. The photo was lying on your desk, frameless, ripped in half--leaving only your vacantly smiling face staring up at you.

Ransom was here.

“Did he put you up to this?” You whisper. “Did Ransom tell you to fire me?”

You know he won’t answer. But you stare at him so fervently that he can’t help but look up at you, and you see it all in his eyes, in the subtle, embarrassed expression of his face.

You can imagine Ransom strolling in--maybe he called first--and settling in for a private audience with your boss in his office. He’d probably pull the chair up to the desk and put his feet on it, just to be an ass. Then he’d bring up… you. And why you had to be let go. Did he give a reason, did he tell your boss why a respected employee who he once secured a position for, who shot up the ranks through intense effort and work, needed to be fired? Did he even need to give a reason?

“This is absolute bullshit,” you say, finally, voice dry and hoarse and bitter. You want to say you’ll be contacting a lawyer. That this won’t stand. But you know--and he knows--that there’s nothing you can do.

Your boss stands, slow, and sighs again. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. Pack up your things as quickly as possible.”

He leaves, and you keep your eyes trained on the ripped photograph to avoid seeing the expressions of the people in the doorway before your boss mercifully shuts the door.

It takes all of your effort not to cry.

You don’t have much effort left.

**

Your things consisted of a handful of personal items, little touches you’d brought in to make your office feel more like “you.” A nice picture print. A pastel afghan to drape over the couch. A stapler with a floral design. You have the strong urge to dump them in a trash can, but that’s quickly quelled by the realization that you can’t afford to buy new things, or any things, at this point.

You don’t care if wearing your sunglasses as you power walk to the elevators makes you look stupid. You know someone, somewhere in this office is filming you and probably captioning it with something stupid to post to their Reels or TikTok, and it just makes you leave faster. A few people murmur comments your way, sympathetic in tone, but you’re not really listening. None of their platitudes matter, because Ransom was here, in your workplace, in your office, and he stole the thing you were most proud of from under your feet.

To his credit, when you reach the bottom floor, Anthony practically fumbles out from behind his desk and holds the door open for you. He mouths a “Sorry” and he probably is, but he’s probably used to dealing with rich assholes like Ransom who get what they want, when they want it; even when what they want is to fire a good employee on demand for very personal reasons.

The sun is beating down hard, even for the morning, and the stress of your situation makes you blast the air conditioning as soon as you get in the car. God, the car--how are you going to afford the payments? You wish you could call your mom. You wish your friends--are they even your friends, anymore?--would call you back.

You grab your phone from your purse and stare at the black screen. Maybe you should call the friend who didn’t block you. She would answer, if you called, because she knew you didn’t make calls unless it was serious. She might not rush to your side, but maybe she can offer you a place to stay, a couch, some advice. A kind word would do, right now, with how much anxiety and frustration has been packed into the last 12 hours.

But when you unlock your screen, your gut sinks. Five missed calls. From the storage company. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You tap their number and bring the phone to your ear and pretend that your hands aren’t shaking.

The man who answers is the same one you talked to on the phone before, when setting up your move. “Hello, Move’nSecure Storage Company. This is Steve speaking. How many I help you?”

“Hi Steve!” You hate how chipper you sound. “I actually just got a few missed calls from you guys, I’m sorry, I was in the office and--”

“Oh.” His voice is surprisingly flat, suddenly flat, losing its customer service inflection in an instant before picking it back up. “Yes. We’ve been trying to reach you. For confirmation, the storage locker your purchased is A443, correct?”

You fumble in your purse for the receipt and confirm the little numbers printed neatly on the paper. “Yes, A443. Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not.” You’re grateful that you didn’t have much for breakfast because you know it would be clawing its way back up at this point. “The card you gave us for the storage fee was declined.”

The debit card. You’d paid in cash for the move, and paid for 1 month of storage with the card. The card that was now useless, connected to an empty and closed bank account.

“Is there another card you can give us?”

“No, but...” You say, because no, there is not. There is not a card. There is not a job. There is nothing. “But if you could just hold my stuff, I’ll be there in less than a hour to get it.”

“We don’t hold items,” Steve tells you, a rehearsed banality to his tone. “Your items are currently outside the unit.”

You instinctively want to yell at Steve but, fuck fuck fuck, you’ve been there, behind the counter, dealing with people who couldn’t pay for shit and then had the nerve to get upset with you. “All of it?” You ask, your voice cracking slightly.

“Yes.”

You hang up, and toss your phone onto the passenger seat. The quicker you get there, the less chance that something will get broken or stolen or who knows what else.

The trip to the storage unit seems to take forever, and when you arrive you don’t even take a second to lock your car doors. Instead you sprint inside, startling Steve--looking at his phone, then at you, then at the sign plastered up on the wall leading to the storage locker floors. He points. Row A, separated into 100s, 200s, 300s, and--your number--400s.

You don’t remember if you say ‘thank you,’ because you’re speed-walking down the hallway and following the signs and it isn’t long before you see it: a storage locker with tons of stuff piled up, dumped, outside the now-empty unit where it was supposed to be safe and sound. Waiting for you to get an apartment and pick it back up and rearrange it into your new life, your new “you.”

The problem is immediate: You can’t fit all this in your car. You don’t know anyone who could take the stuff for you. You mind reels for options and the only thing you can come up with is ferrying your belongings to and from the hotel. You can pay for a few more days once you cash your partial paycheck. After that… you don’t know.

Pawn your things? Yeah. That might work. You can get enough cash by pawning most of your stuff, the good stuff. Enough money to get you into a shitty apartment with leaks and a bad landlord. Then you can a job that barely pays rent and you’ll be right back where you started, before you met Ransom. Before you thought leaking ceilings and $20 paychecks after taxes were a thing of the past.

You ignore the humiliation that makes your stomach curl as you take your things out to the car, handful by handful. Steve doesn’t bother holding the door open for you. You mention that you’re going to be back on your way out, and he offers a non-committal hum.

At least when you get to the hotel, the owner sees you fumbling with boxes and offers to help you out. It takes less time with two hands to get everything in the room, and once it’s locked up you head back out to the storage units.

You keep your sunglasses on for the second trip into the storage unit, even though you don’t know Steve or care what he thinks. He doesn’t look up when you walk in and it’s just as well, since you’re only heading back to the A-400s and don’t need his non-existent help.

But the sight that greets you when you round the corner to your unpaid-for storage locker makes your blood run cold.

Your stuff is gone. All of it.

You rush back to the desk, where Steve does look up, startled by your urgency.

“My stuff,” you spit out, “My stuff is gone! Someone took it!”

Steve shrugs. “Sorry.” He points to a sign behind him: “We are not responsible for the loss of items inside or outside storage lockers.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” You can’t the anger in your voice this time. “You just watched someone walk off with my stuff and didn’t say anything?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “If it was that important, you shouldn’t have left it here. Or you should have given us another card.”

You feel like throwing your hands up but you just clench your fist and storm out the door, huffing as you reach your car. The anger melts into the sense of loss, the realization that you only have a few meager items that you’d managed to collect; you picked the lightest stuff, first. And in retrospect it was things that didn’t matter much at all. Clothes. Hair supplies. Makeup. You should have grabbed the box with your USB sticks, your memory cards, your photo albums; your personal mementos and sentimental shit. Instead you grabbed the box with your shampoo.

At least the clothes might get something in a pawnshop. The makeup, too, on Facebook or Depop or Instagram. But it wouldn’t be enough to put you up in an apartment. You’ll have to live in your car. Until they repossess it for lack of payment.

You don’t have your bank account, your credit cards, your job, a place to stay, or your personal possessions. And soon, you won’t have your car.

You have no friends. No boyfriend. No family.

All you have $20 left in your wallet and well, fuck it. You grab some McDonalds on the way home because, fuck it, and eat all the fries before you make it to the motel. The thought of eating in your dirty room makes your stomach turn and you decide to eat everything else you bought, the burger and the shake and the chicken nuggets too, tossing the wrappers on the floor. It feels like deja vu--getting cheap fast food to make you feel full, tossing trash on the floor of the passenger seat, all bringing back the way you used to when you’d grab something from the dollar menu on your way to work at the call center.

You almost wish you could stay at this hotel, brown water and all. The owner is decently nice. He smiles at you when you enter and doesn’t bring up that you didn’t come back with more boxes, like you said you would.  

You’re surprised at how grateful you feel for the dingy hotel room now that you won’t be able to stay here more than another day. Now that the alternative is sleeping in your car, then sleeping on the street, if you were lucky.

Your phone feels heavy when you set it on the table and stare at the home screen. Another photo of you and Ransom stares back up at you. You haven’t had time to change it up yet. He’s grinning. You’re smiling. It’s a good photo. You try to place it in your memory, try to remember what beach that was, but your trips blur together and you can’t.

Should you call him? If it was just the cards, just him being petty over credit and finances, it was one thing. You could try to placate him with returning gifts, just asking him to give you what you put in from your own paychecks. But making you lose your job? It was too far, too fucking far. And there was no going back from that. Fuck, someone was probably moving into your office as you sat in this dimly lit room mourning the loss of your entire life.

For a brief, very fleeting moment, you consider calling Harlan. You weren’t exceptionally close, but he seemed to like you well enough. He’d even asked you once, puling you aside at a tension-filled family party, if Ransom treated you right, told you to tell him if he ever got to be too much. Harlan felt like Ransom’s keeper--in more ways than one. You could never tell Harlan about the shouts or the occasional bruises from when Ransom really, really lost his temper--it’s not like you could prove them, anyway, as Ransom made sure to keep you away from his family when he lost control like that. No need for excuses about running into doors when he made sure you looked your best at family functions.

But the thought of breaking the uneasy stasis that Ransom had with the most significant member of his family made you want to vomit. There would be no coming back from that, and you knew better than to cross any line involving the great Harlan Thrombey.

You could call your friend--ex-friend? The one who didn’t block you or forget your number. You should. No, you will. Because what else do you have to lose.

But before you can bring up her number, you get a text--Ransom. It’s a photo and your curiosity gets the better of you as you click the notification.

“What the fuck?”

He’s sent you a photo of his car, trunk open. It’s filled with boxes, odds-and-ends. It’s filled with your stuff.

You text him: What??

He texts back: Hey. I’m in front of the hotel. Come out? Bring your suitcase. :P

It’s your stuff. It’s his car. He’s here. All reason is thrown aside as you grab your suitcase and purse and rush down the hallway, ignoring the owner’s confused response from behind his desk as you push open the front doors and look around the parking lot.

His car is parked to the side, not in front of the hotel’s glass double doors. He’s standing outside his car, leaning against it. He takes off his sunglasses and tucks them in his pocket when he sees you approaching, face confused and fuming all at once.

“What the fuck, Ransom, what the fuck is your problem--”

“Hey, hey,” he says, hands up in defense, “You’re not even going to thank me for picking up your stuff?”

You feel suddenly, impossibly rooted to the spot.

“What do you--what? You took my stuff?”

He shrugs. “C’mon, did you really think I’d just leave your stuff in some shitty storage unit? Someone would’ve taken it if I didn’t get there first.”

You swallow. “Why?” You ask, because Ransom never does anything for no reason. Or so you’ve learned.

His expression loses a bit of its cocky casualness. He tilts his head a bit, looking at you as if you’ve asked a particularly offensive question.

“Why do you think?”

To lord it over you? To make you think your stuff was gone and make you worried, sick, crazy?

“I don’t know,” is what you settle for in the end. “I really, really don’t. You--” You lick your lips, and try to calm down, calm the pitter-patter of your heart, and think before you speak. “You’ve done some pretty messed up stuff today. My job?” The last question comes out soft and pained, and you know your eyes are starting to tear up.

“Hey.” His voice is soft and placating and it makes your stomach flip as he approaches you, standing there on the sidewalk with your purse and suitcase. “Hey, c’mon. Don’t cry on me.”

You know this Ransom. The Ransom that holds you and pets your hair and offers to get Thai food delivered even though he doesn’t like it just to make you happy.

He puts his hand on your shoulder and you jerk it away. “Don’t.” That Ransom is a fantasy. Or an incomplete version, the version that pretends he doesn’t lie and cheat and hurt you in more ways than one. “Don’t you fucking dare, especially not after what you pulled today. My job? My job, Ransom? You’re a--a fucking asshole.”

He puts his hands up again, defensive, and takes a step back. But he doesn’t return to his car, and stays just a few steps in front of you.

“Look. Call me an asshole. Sure, fine, I can admit that. But do you know what else I am?”

He waits a beat, waits for you to look at him, before he continues. “I’m a realist. I like facts. And the fact is? You aren’t much without me. No job, no credit cards, no bank account. Without me, you’re just some broke chick scrambling to get an apartment in the shittiest part of town, working a dead-end job that don’t pay shit. With me though…. “

He leaves the words unfinished, but you know what he means. Flashes of your life, cocktails and smart business outfits and dinners at restaurants you didn’t even dream about attending before you met him. Phone calls with shakers in the industry and social media requests from people you’d never dream you’d meet. Connections that meant something, a career path, dinner parties with people who could offer tangible benefits to your career and your life.

It wasn’t that he spoiled you. He wasn’t a sugar daddy. You weren’t getting gifts for blowjobs. It was that his presence in your life boosted you, socially, financially, mentally, physically, in every which way possible.

His presence got you a job that you loved, which meant you weren’t burnt out when you came home, which meant that you had the time and energy to spend hours catching up on books or redecorating the house or watching movies. Good money meant you could order in whenever you felt like it, meant you didn’t have to worry if you burned dinner because you could just buy new steaks or order-in or go out, last minute, and still get a great table. It meant you had all the clothes you wanted, stylish and personally tailored; it meant you had easy access to a gym and exercise equipment and an indoor pool to keep you healthy. It meant you had a life that provided comfort in every way possible.

Being with Ransom Drysdale was like… like a little shot of privilege directly into your arm.

Privilege that he took away just as easily as he gave it. Just as easily as you took it. Just as easily as you took it and eagerly ignored the dark side underneath. Or maybe you didn’t ignore it. Maybe you liked it, maybe it reminded you of who you were underneath the designer clothes and expensive dinners.

Maybe you wanted to fix him, like he fixed you? He wasn’t totally bad, after all, he did make sure no one took your belongings. Maybe it was your presence that gave him the idea for that touch of sympathy, maybe with Ransom change was slow and muddled, not picture-perfect sweeping changes like the kind in movies.

“So?” Ransom’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Are you going to come home or,” he waves his hands around dismissively, at the hotel, at you.

You feel very, very less-than right now. You look awful, your hair mussy and your makeup mostly melted off with sweat and sun. You probably smell more than you normally do, thanks to the lack of a shower. Your muscles, sore from the motel bed, ache for the large spa bathtub that Ransom had installed in the master bathroom just for you, stocked with bubbles and salts and overpriced bath bombs that were $10 a pop.

But your muscles had hurt before, when he pushed you against the dresser.

You have nothing, and no one. Except Ransom. Ransom who didn’t judge you when you instinctively saved plastic bottles and boxes, but merely nudged you towards recycling and took you out to splurge on a reusable water bottle and proper storage containers the next day. Ransom who asked you what sort of job you wanted, really wanted, and made it happen for you. Ransom who shrugged and wiped away your credit card debt without making you feel like shit.

Ransom who didn’t let you leave the house if your wrists were sporting fingerprint shaped bruises. Ransom who argued with you about talking to men, even men at work. Ransom who held you tight at night and said he never wanted to let you go, and wouldn’t you just make a fine-ass addition his crazy family. Ransom who took care of you, now that you had no one else.

“What do you want me to do?” The words feel slow, sluggish. Like they wanted to stick to the roof of your mouth and it took everything in you to get them out.

His voice turns low and serious as he stares at you with an characteristic expression. “Well, the first thing is to get down on your knees…”

You feel your eyes practically bugging out.

“What the fuck, Ransom?”

He laughs. He always did have a nice laugh.

“I’m just messing with you, Jesus. Take a chi-I-il pill. Just grab your purse and come sit your sweet ass in the front seat. Let’s go get some burgers, I’m starving.”

Your legs feel like jelly when you take that first step, and the sound of your roller suitcase as you pull it along seems louder than ever. Ransom pops the truck and you just manage to fit it inside with the handle closed, jamming it in between some boxes at an odd angle. The handle of the passenger side is familiar, warm from the sun.

You open the door and practically shove yourself into the seat, closing the door as fast as possible. You can’t do more than glance at him as humiliation and anxiety and just the smallest bit of relief washes over you. It’s been less than 24 hours since you broke up, and here you are--again.

He’s staring at you quietly, his expression difficult to place. He looks relieved. He looks annoyed. He looks like he wants to kiss you. He looks like he wants to slap you. Maybe he wants to do it all at once and can’t decide which to pick.

Instead, he puts his hand on your thigh. Gives it a squeeze. Hard, bordering on painful.  He’s staring straight ahead, at the worn-out sign on the hotel’s front door, one hand gripping the flesh of your thigh. He looks good in profile. “Don’t ever try to pull something like that again. I mean it. I really mean it.”

You turn, glance out the window, familiar tears at the edge of your eyes.

“I won’t,” you whisper, dreaming of the tub and bubbles and how good a warm soak will feel on your back, on your thighs, on your soul.

“Good girl,” he says, patting your thigh firmly. He plucks his sunglasses out of pocket and puts them on in a smooth motion. The car starts smoothly, its fine-tuned and expensive engine a familiar sound, and your hands feel robotic as you pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it tight.

“Let’s get dinner and get home. You have some unpacking to do.”

[heartless-symphony]

Spencie

Summary : Four time you called him Spencie, and the one time he really didn’t mind.

Pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category : fluff

Warnings : some curse words, semi-nudity kinda ??

Word count : 3,652 (even I am surprised)

Proof reader : @hannahjoycebanana​ (thank u for being here when i needed it and thank you for being my proof reader here. You’re one of the best friend i could’ve asked for.)

A/N : It took me so long to come back to tumblr because i had some issues, and i didn’t want to come back until i as finished with at least one of my project. Here it is, i hope you like it as much as i enjoyed writing it.

MASTERLIST

1- New friends

“Spencie !” Your excited voice pierced the silence in the almost empty bullpen, as it was pretty early. It didn’t seem to matter to you, you seemed as excited, as full of energy as usual. Your eyes were shining happily, and it didn’t take a profiler to know that it wasn’t your first cup of coffee. You were new to the team, joining it after the whole “cat adams” situation, and you weren’t aware of the meaning of the nickname to him. That’s why he tried not to be angry, but you could see his jaw and his fists clenching in a attempt to control himself. You moved closer to him, poking his nose with your fingers – you knew how he was with touches, but you couldn’t help yourself – before walking away. He gulped, frozen in his position. It was only JJ’s arrival in the room that made him move, but still. His eyes flickered to you, already focused on something other than himself, and he bit his lip. He didn’t know how to explain his situation to you, how to ask you not to call him that again, but he didn’t want to have to talk about it all over again. He already lived it almost every nights in his nightmares, remembered the prison, the games she played with his heart, his family, his everything. He didn’t want to see the look of pity on your face, he didn’t want things to change. However, he couldn’t just let you remind him of it, every day. So, silently, almost hesitantly, he walked up to your desk, were you were silently reading a report, taking notes on what to correct and what to work on. You were in your own world and didn’t see him coming, so he had to clear his throat, calling your name. You looked up and smiled softly.

“Hi, Spencie ! Anything I can do ?”

Your voice made your blonde coworker look up, and her worried eyes fell on Spencer, meeting his. He sighed and slowly shook his head. He saw your frown, your eyes swinging between JJ and him, fully knowing you were missing something. He looked up to you and you almost winced at the pain and anger in his eyes, even though he tried to hide it.

“Just, don’t call me Spencie, please.”

You frowned and were about to object when you met JJ’s eyes, and she shook her head, silently being you to accept. So you simply nodded and played with your hair, feeling sorry even though you had no idea what you did wrong. He sent you a sad, forced smile, before walking back to his desk, his fist slowly unclenching, and you could almost see the anger leave his body

2- Dance with me

The second time, you were pretty drunk. He was watching you dancing with the rest of the girl, well, he was watching you all from afar, silently sipping on his lemonade drink. He watched you move your body in rhythm, obviously singing the lyrics that you seemed to know so well. He was almost hypnotized with the way you moved, the way you held your hands up happily, or playfully danced with Morgan – Spencer didn’t want to admit it, but it made him clench his jaw. After a while, a new song started, and he knew you were up to something bad the minutes you walked up to him, moving your hips.

“Spencie ! Come and dance with me !”

He almost didn’t say anything. You were drunk, you didn’t know what you were saying and he couldn’t blame you. But still, the memories came back in an instant, the pain, the worry, the anger, and he looked away, shaking his hand.

“I don’t dance. And please, stop calling me like that.”

You pouted, tugging on his shirt. You obviously hadn’t gotten the message, and with the number of drinks you had he couldn’t really get mad, but still. One part of him felt grateful, happy even to be the one who caught your attention, but the other part sent him warning signals, remembering the last person who called him like that. He shoved you away as gently as he could, and it seemed like you had finally caught on. Still pouting, you pulled away, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Fine.” He could hear the disappointment in your drunken voice, and he almost stood up to dance with you. “I’ll go find someone else.” You turned around, arms down scanning the crowd for a potential partner. Before you could even take a step, you felt a hand gently wrap around your arm and you looked back, only to meet Spencer’s eyes. You smiled widely and jumped up happily. “Let’s go dancing !” He sighed and tugged you back to him. The only reason he accepted to dance with you was because he couldn’t stand to watch you flirt with someone else – no, he wasn’t jealous. Just a bit protective of his favorite girl, that was all. He almost slapped himself for his thought. You were just a friend. He had no right to be jealous of seeing you go to some other guy to enjoy your evening when he was right here. And what mattered the most was your smile, so contagious. He wasn’t jealous. He was doing it to make you happy, that was all !

“There’s one condition.” You tilted your head, showing that you were listening. Even drunk, you stayed that respectful, kind girl he liked so much. “You need to stop drinking, and you need to stop calling me Spencie. I’m serious, Y/N.” You pouted a bit, obviously not pleased by his ‘no more drink’ rule, but you ended up nodding, leading him to the dance floor. Seeing you smile made him forget, for a moment, the bad memories brought by the so simple nickname, replacing them with images of your smile.

 3- Spencie Undercover

The third time, it wasn’t really your fault. You and Spencer being the only one who hadn’t been showed on the news, you were the ones who had to go undercover. The fact that you had to act as a couple pleased Spencer more than he would admit, because the warmth of your hand against his was calming, soothing. Almost as if it was always supposed to be here. You walked in the restaurant, hand in hand, talking about some book you read after he recommended it to you. Morgan and Hotch had specified that you had to act as normally as possible, so you had immediately started a small talk. You two were already so close that acting as a couple wasn’t too problematic, except that he couldn’t really tear his eyes away from you. You were wearing a blue dress, your hair in a braid falling on your right shoulder. Your back was naked, and Spencer did his best not to notice how pretty you looked. You were wearing some light makeup, and he knew that, under your dress, your gun was ready to be fired. He didn’t even want to think about it - the way the holster was hugging your leg, and maybe you would have to lift the skirt of your dress to take it out-, but his mind couldn’t stop the image to keep coming up. You walked up to the counter, asking for your table, while he scanned the room. Happily, he quickly found what he was looking for, or who. He used his famous trick to make them change spot - the usual light problem - ending up as close as he could to the target. It was a young man, flirting with a beautiful woman who was probably going to end up to be the next victim. However, Spencer and you were here to stop him. You didn’t have enough to arrest him just yet, but all you needed was for him and his target to go outside, where he would try and attack her -like he did with all his other victims-. But you and Spencer were ready to jump in at any moment, collect some intel on him if possible. It wasn’t a date, and it seemed hard for both of you to remember that. You just liked to be in each other’s company, and Spencer continuous rants made you feel weirdly safe, just as much as he loved to hear your not-so-silent singing and your excited eyes every time you talked about a book you read. If one of you had the guts to talk about your feelings for each other, it would have been a long time since you would’ve been together.

“Should we share a fondant, Spencie ?”

The use of the nickname made him suddenly look up from the menu. You were about to order dessert - the unsub’s ‘date’ seemed to take longer than they all wished - and he didn’t think you’d think about that. He opened his mouth, frowning a bit, ready to tell you, once again, to stop using that so horrible nickname, but then he saw you, really saw you. You had on that special smile you only gave to him, a bit playful, a bit flirty and a lot shy, but your eyes were fond, almost loving. He bit down his lips, his heart skipping a bit. You were so beautiful that he almost forgot to answer. You called his name again - his name, not the nickname - and he slowly nodded. Suddenly, he missed it. He missed the way ‘Spencie’ seemed to roll off your tongue so easily, like it was made for it. The bad memories that Cat Adams had stuck him with seemed to disappear every time you used the nickname, every time you two were close. You seemed to make all the hurt, all the pain disappear, and that was probably why he couldn’t stop looking at your lips, wondering why he never kissed you before.

4- I’m tired, Spencie

 The fourth time felt totally different. You all had to share rooms and, Spencer and you ending up all alone, you had no choice but share a room. Share a bed. Which wouldn’t have bothered Spencer if it was anyone else, but it felt different with you. Everything did. You were both really tired after the days and sleepless nights you spent trying to catch the unsub – some woman poisoning pregnant women, hoping to get their baby -. The craziness of the situation had taken you both a bit longer to find her – You were specialized in linguistic, body language but, most importantly, psychology – You knew the unsub had to have some kind of mental illness, but neither of you understood how this woman expected to get a baby from a dead woman. Either way, you were both tired, really, really tired. Spencer was used to it, so it didn’t show much on you, but you hadn’t been on the team long enough to get used to sleepless nights and busy days full of thinking too much and running around. You stumbled in the room, closely followed by Spencer. His eyes were full of worry, because your brain really seemed to work differently. It was like you had held up walls all day, acting like your fatigue wasn’t having a huge impact on you, but as soon as you ended up all alone after the case finished, the walls crumbled down      . Your eyes weren’t shining anymore and you had trouble keeping them open, making you walk around like you were lost – or drunk -. Spencer kindly guided you to the bed, where you sat down, rubbing your eyes. He knew you were too tired to get changed, but staying in your dirty clothes was definitely not a good idea. You could shower in the morning, he didn’t mind, but there was no way he would let you sleep dressed like that.

“Where are your pajamas, Y/N ?” His voice made you look up, and it took you a second to answer, like your brain needed time to register the question. You tilted your head, rubbing your eyes, before pointing to your go-bag. “Pink hoodie. Do I really have too ? ‘M too tired, Spencie…”

Spencer tried not to smile. He really did, he tried to feel angry, sad or just.. Something. He didn’t want to admit to himself that he actually liked you using this nickname. He forced a sigh, before nodding and reaching in your go bag to take out the clearly oversized pink hoodie, and blushed as he looked away from your underwear. He gently walked up to you, handing you your hoodie. You shook your head, raising your arms like a child. He sighed again and tried not to blush as he grabbed the bottom of your shirt, pulling it off you. He looked away from you as he waited for you to take off your bra, handing you the hoodie, his eyes focused on the wall. He might have been very attracted to you, but that never meant he would do something so stupid. Once you were clothed again, he helped you take of your shoes  well, he took off your shoes while you laid across the bed, eyes closed and silently singing some tangled song -, before gently tugging on the bottom off your legging. He was hopping you would sit up and help him take it off so he wouldn’t have to be too close, but you were so deep in a tired, child-like mood that you simply lifted your legs, yawning. He sighed again and very carefully took off your leggings, and he was glad that your hoodie was long enough to hide your underwear and upper thighs.

“Here you go. Now try and sleep, yea ?” He watched you nod and smiled softly, shaking his head as he tried to forget how close you two were. He made sure you were looking away – you were curled up in a ball, facing away from you – before getting changed and slipping in the bed. He thought you were already asleep, but as soon as you felt the mattress dip under his weight, you snuggled up to him. He froze as he felt your head against him, pushing him to lay down. As soon as he did, you got even closer, your head resting against his chest, where you could hear his heart beat. You smiled tiredly, looking up and gently kissing his cheeks, your eyes almost closed, before snuggling back against him. “Night Night, Spencie…” Your voice slowly went silent and, very quickly, he could feel your breathing slow down. After making sure you were asleep, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you even close, and kissed the top of you head. He smiled sadly and closed his eyes. For the first time in month, Spencer actually slept, dreaming about you in a field of flowers, your light bringing a smile to his lips.

 5- Your Spencie

The next morning, Spencer woke up before you. You were so beautiful, sleeping peacefully, your hair surrounding your face in such a beautiful way. He smiled sadly, stroking your hair. He hated the fact that you were so close, but he couldn’t have you, couldn’t touch you, couldn’t kiss you. Lost in his mind, in his imagination, he didn’t realize you were waking up, slowly lifting your head up. You smiled softly. You didn’t remember much about the evening before, your brain having shut off before you even walked into the room, but you knew that you an Spencer had slept together. Well, in the same bed, at least. And you felt his hand in your hair, stroking it gently. Before you could even register what you were doing, you gently pecked his lips before snuggling back into him. “Morning, Spencie.”

Spencer froze. Was he dreaming ? He could still feel your lips on his own, but it felt so irreal. He looked down at you, frowning. After the minute of silence, you realized what you had done and looked up, ready to say sorry and die in shame. Your eyes met Spencer’s and suddenly, you felt home. It seemed so normal, so comfortable. His hand slowly, hesitantly moved from your hair to your cheek, stroking it gently.

“Good Morning, Y/N.” You smiled sadly. Was he going to avoid the topic of your kiss ? Was this the end of your very special friendship ? Spencer must have felt the worry growing up inside you, seeing it in your eyes, and he leaned down, gently kissing you. When your lips met, it felt like your two worlds collided, melting into one. He hesitantly licked your bottom lips and you shyly opened your mouth, letting the kiss go further. Your hands flew to his hair as you sat up, and one of his hand helped you both lean against the wall behind the bed, before settling on your waist. It didn’t went further, it was a simple kiss, but it felt like it was meant to be. Neither of you wanted to pull away, breathing through your noses, making sure to keep a steady pace – no matter how fast you wanted to go, no matter how many feelings you wanted to put into the kiss -. He was still stroking your cheek, your hand was still in his hair, playing with his curls, when someone knocked on the door.

“Spencer ? Y/N ? It’s almost time to go, you guys ready ?”

Spencer growled against your mouth and pulled away, the look on his face telling you exactly what he was going to say – something along the line of ‘fuck off, Morgan’ – and you gently put your hand over his mouth, smiling softly. “We’ll be down in ten minutes ! I can’t find some of my clothes. We won’t be long !”

You heard a laugh, and bit your lips, waiting to hear Morgan walk away. As soon as he did, you pulled your hand away from Spencer’s mouth, looking back at him. His eyes were shining, and where you expected to see lust – after all, you were straddling him, wearing nothing but a hoodie and underwear -, all you could see was love and deep respect. He smiled and kissed you again, but you put your hands against his chest, gently pulling away. “We need to get ready, Spencie.”

His smiled softly and you got up, grabbing your clothes and running to the bathroom to get ready. As he got changed in a corner of the room, Spencer thought about the way you talked to him, the way you called him. For once Spencie didn’t feel like a curse, but more like a symbol of good memories. Everything that had happened with Cat was slowly fading away, replaced by the images of your smile, the taste of your lips, the feeling of your skin against his fingertip. You quickly walked out once you were sure he was fully clothed, and went to pack your go-bag. Spencer walked behind you, gently touching your back. You jumped in surprise, before leaning against him, laughing softly.

“You scared me.” He laughed and you smiled even more, leaning against him. “As an FBI agent, you should definitely be ready for any threat to come at any moment.” You laughed even more at his statement, turning around to put your hand against his chest. His arms wrapped around your waist and he pulled you closer. You leaned forward, whispering in his ear. “Are you a threat, Doctor ?”. You pulled away almost immediately, grinning from ear to ear. He smiled, shaking his head before letting you finish packing, grabbing his stuff and leaning against the wall.

“You know, we should talk about it.” You looked up, worry in your eyes. “Do you regret it, Spencer ?” His eyes widened and he shook his head, walking up to you. He put your go-back down, cupping your cheeks, and all you could see in his eyes was a deep, powerful love.

“I could never regret what happened today. You found a way to my heart that I didn’t even know existed, and managed to break down all my walls. After Cat, after Max, I thought I could never feel anything for someone else. Cat destroyed my thrust, Max and I just didn’t work out. But you already know all that. What I mean to say is, you destroyed all the bad memories, changed the way I felt. I couldn’t stand anyone calling me Spencie because of everything that happened with Cat but, now… It’s all I want to hear coming from you. I can’t imagine anyone else who had the power, the impact to make things change so quickly, so strongly. You are one of a kind, Y/N, and I could never regret what happened this morning. All I hope is that it won’t be a one-time thing, all I want is to keep you by my side no matter what happens. I couldn’t stand to lose you and all those amazing memories you stuck in my head. I think... I think I love you, Y/N. And I should’ve acted on it sooner, I would’ve, if I knew you liked me. But we’re here now and I promise you, I will cherish the memories of this day all my life.”

You didn’t know what to say, and could see the worry grow in his eyes with the time you took to answer. Before he could pull away, you put one hand over his, keeping it on your cheek, and put your other hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down. Pushing on your toes, your lips met, and you never felt as safe as you did in this moment. You were home, and so was he. Your Spencie.

[waitimcomingtoo]

My Youth Is Yours

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader 

synopsis: in a world where you don’t begin to age until you meet your soulmate, Tom notices you started aging when he hasn’t 

Masterlist

“Time to wake up.”

You heard Toms voice right before you felt a pillow hit you in the head.

“Mmmmm. I was dreaming.” You whined as you aimlessly threw the pillow in the direction of his voice. You heard the soft thud of the pillow hitting his body as he caught it and knew you were in for trouble. Before you could move out of the way, Tom jumped on top of you and pressed the pillow against your head.

“Aw. About me?” He teased as he squished your face into the pillow. You groaned and pushed him off of you, hearing him laugh as he rolled onto his back beside you. You propped yourself up on your elbow and took the pillow from him, smacking him lightly over the head with it.

“I said dream, not nightmare.” You sassed him. Tom rolled onto his side and smiled softly as he moved a stray hair off your forehead with his pinky.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to someone who made you coffee.” He drawled before reaching over and retrieving the cup of coffee he had set on your nightstand.

“Coffee?” You groggily sniffed the air as he placed the cup right underneath your nose, making your eyes widen in delight. “Coffee!”

“With almond milk and sugar.” He sang as you gratefully took the cup from him.

“You’re so good to me.” You said before taking a long sip. “No wonder I’ve kept you around all these years.”

“Mm.” He hummed sarcastically. “20 years and counting.”

“Yep. And you don’t look a day over 18.” You teased as you cupped his chin. Tom rolled his eyes at your comment, but he wasn’t really annoyed. The fact that neither of you had started aging yet worried him daily. Sure, it meant you hadn’t met your soulmate yet, but it also meant your soulmate wasn’t Tom. He tried to convince himself that maybe you both had started aging, you just didn’t realize since you saw each other every day. He knew he was a long shot, but it was all he had to hold on to.

“Shut up.” He faked a laugh. “Neither do you, baby face.”

“You’re the one with the baby face.” You shot back as you climbed out of bed.

“This baby face is gonna allow me to play teenagers as long as I want.” He called after you as you waltzed towards the bathroom that was connected to your bedroom.

“Until you meet your soulmate.” You stopped in the doorway and gave him a pointed look. “You know white men age like apples once they meet their soulmates.”

You kept your tone light, but you dreaded the day Toms face would show signs of aging. It wasn’t something you liked to talk about as your youthful appearance told you exactly what you didn’t want to hear; you hadn’t met your soulmate yet.

“Lucky for me, mine seems to be on another planet.” He sat on the edge of the bed and swung his feet as he watched you wash your face.

“Maybe shes off somewhere making coffee for my soulmate.” You chuckled from inside the bathroom.

“That would be funny.” He commented. “Maybe they’ve fallen in love with each other and forgotten all about us.”

“Imagine?” You laughed as you began to apply your makeup. “What would we do then?”

“We’d have to be together, I guess.” Tom forced a laugh as he tried to sound like he was into kidding, when in reality he was completely serious.

“You wish.” You paused applying your mascara and winked at him from the bathroom. He smiled sadly and shrugged, but you missed it entirely.

“Yeah.” He mumbled as you shut the bathroom door to get changed. “I wish.”

Tom pouted and looked at his hands, a sinking feeling finding a home in his tummy. He hated being reminded that you were eventually going to meet someone else and grow old with them. He wanted to stay in your youthful bubble as long as he possibly could. The sound of the door opening brought him out of his thoughts as you walked down the hallway that connected the bathroom to your bedroom. You were in your work clothes now, minus your heels.

“There she is.” Tom smiled at you. “Going for the pencil skirt, I see.”

“I just want to look good in case my soul mate decided to take a desk job.” You shrugged as you slipped into your pumps.

“So that’s what a guy has to do to get your attention?” Tom raised as eyebrow. “Get a desk job?”

“Uh huh.” You bit your tongue between your teeth and rested your hands on his shoulders. “I find actors so boring.”

“I bet you do. How about I take you out tonight? I know your boss has been on your case lately.” Tom asked as he peered up at you from his seated position on the bed. He rested his hands on your hips and drummed his thumbs on your waistline.

“I would like that.” You smiled as combed your fingers through his hair. “It’s a date.”

“A date.” He nodded, leaning into the palm of your hand. You winked at him again and checked your watch, eyes widening at what you saw.

“I’m running late.” You sighed. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you tonight.” He waved at you gently as you slipped your arms away from his neck.

“Muah.” You bent down and pressed a wet kiss to his cheek, knowing how much he didn’t like it.

Or so he claimed.

Tom scrunched his nose and wiped the kiss off, really only concerned with getting the lipstick off his cheek.

“Give me a real one, why don’t you.” He jokingly called after you, but once again meant it in it’s entirety.

“Maybe I will.” You called back before shutting the front door.

You arrived at work on time, much to your relief. You greeted the secretary and picked up the paperwork, noticing the pike was a little bigger than expected.

“Is this all for me?” You asked with a tight smile as you collected the stack of files.

“I’m sorry.” The secretary shook her head. “Mr. Brighton dropped them off last night. He specifically asked that you do them.”

“This is the company’s budget.” You realized as you thumbed through the filed. “That’s his job, not mine.”

“Are you surprised?” She laughed sadly. “I haven’t seen him doing his own job since I started here.”

“I better get started if I want to make it home on time.” You sighed. “Have a good one.”

“You too.” She called after you as you made your way to your desk. Along the way, you greeted the girls you worked with.

“Stacey, I called the IT department and told them about the wifi issue. Thanks for letting me know.” You smiled at your coworker.

“Hi Emma.” You waved and set a few folders down in her desk. “Here are the files you need to redo. Don’t worry about messing it up, it happened to me all the time when I first started. Try to have them in my desk by 4, okay?”

“I told the janitor about the paper towels and he said he’ll make a note to restock them more. Thanks for bringing it to my attention, Joslyn.” You thanked your coworker as you walked by.

“Jaiden!” You greeted. “Great work on your proposal yesterday. Just try not to fidget with your hands so much. You had great ideas. There was no need to be nervous.”

You finally got to your desk and set the stack of files down. You blew out an angry breath, already tired before you even started. Right as you were about to sit down when a man in a crisp navy suit appeared at the desk across from you, setting a box of his belongings down on top of it. He looked up briefly and made eye contact with you, smiling politely and stepping around his desk.

“Hi. I’m Chris.” He introduced himself as he held out his hand.

“Y/n. Nice to meet you.” You reached forward to shake his hand. “Is this your first day?”

“Yep. Just transferred.” He nodded towards his desk. “You’re the boss I presume?”

“Nope. Just one of his many victims.” You chuckled. “What made you think I was the boss?”

“I’m not sure.” He realized. “The way you walked in and took charge, I guess I just assumed you were the boss. You seem like you should be.”

“Oh. Well thank you.” You straightened your blazer with a new sense of pride. “I try to be assertive so I don’t get walked all over.”

“Well it’s working.” He laughed as he rubbed the back of his neck. “You had my respect right away.”

“Thank you.” You smiled politely. “I’m not your boss boss, but I am your superior, so you’ll probably be training under me. I’m supposed to tell you no personal calls, but no one really cares. As long as all your work is done by the end of the day, call whoever you want.”

Chris nodded and took a seat in the desk that faced you, nodding in content as he took in his surroundings.

“Hm.” He shrugged as he glanced at you. “Nice view.”

You caught his meaning and gave him a pointed look, to which he held up his hands in defense.

“Come on.” You nodded towards the hallway. “I’ll show you where the break room is.”

~

“I’m home.” You called as you entered yours and Toms house a few months later. He came to greet you in a tank top and shorts, his glistening arms telling you he was just working out.

“Hey.” He smiled as he wiped his forehead. “How was work?”

“Brutal.” You sighed as you set your bag down. “I don’t know how much longer I can last there.”

“Your boss again?” He smiled sympathetically as he rubbed your arm.

“Yeah.” You shrugged tiredly. “I swear, he has a vendetta against me or something.”

Before Tom could respond, you phone chimed in your bag. You got it out and saw a message from Chris, making a smile tug at your lips.

“What are you smiling at?” Tom chuckled, always a fan of that smile.

“Nothing. Just something dumb the new guy sent me.” You dismissed as you put your phone away.

Toms face faltered momentarily as he wasn’t used to you not telling him things. He let it go, assuming it wasn’t that big of a deal.

“My day wasn’t much better. We couldn’t figure out how to get this one…” He trailed off, his face growing pale and fearful.

“What?” Your eyebrows knit together at his sudden mood change.

“You look different.” He said quietly.

“Bad different?” You worried.

“No, just…you have a gray hair.” Tom admitted, making you let out a shocked laugh.

“What? Let me see.” You ran over to the mirror in the hallway and Tom followed.

“Look. Right on your part.” Tom pointed out a single silver streak on your part.

“Oh. You’re right.” You gulped as a sick feeling sunk into your tummy.

You turned around to face Tom, who looked like he was about to cry.

“You…you aged?” He croaked as he tilted his head to the side.

“I don’t…I don’t know.” You shrugged weakly, trying to calm him and yourself down.

“Oh.” Tom nodded, stepping back from you and adverting his eyes.

“Maybe it’s from stress.” You offered. “My boss has really been kicking my ass lately. Or-“

“Or you met your soulmate.” Tom cut you off. You frowned and reached out to touch him but quickly withdrew your hand.

“Maybe.” You whispered as your eyes searched his face.

“Do you have any idea who it is?” He asked, already knowing he didn’t want to hear the answer. You stared at him for a moment, the urge to tell him how you felt stronger then ever.

“No.” You said flatly. “No, I don’t.”

“I, um…I have to check on something.” Tom said suddenly as he withdrew from you.

“Tom.” You reached out for him but he backed away.

“I really gotta go.” He said quickly. “I’ll see you later.”

Tom practically ran away from you, making you drop your head in your hands as you sobbed.

~

You gave Tom his space for a few hours before going to look for him, assuming he’d be in his usual spot on the roof.

“Hey.” You called out to Tom once you found him on the roof. He was lying on his back on top of a concrete slab, staring aimlessly at the sky.

“Hey.” Tom said stiffly, without looking at you.

“You’re mad.” You said matter of factly as you slid down beside him.

“I’m not mad at you.” He said quietly.

“I didn’t say you were mad at me.” You answered. “I said you were mad.”

Tom swallowed thickly and stared at the sky as a tear rolled down the side of his face.

“It’s not fair.” He croaked, clearing his throat when his voice came out weaker than he thought it would.

“I know.”

“I wanted it to be me.” He cried, covering his face with his hand as he cried silent tears.

“I know.” You repeated as you fought back your own tears. “I wanted it to be you too.”

“I look at your face everyday. I see every line and wrinkle because right know exactly how they got there. Who else can say that? Who else knows you like I do?”

“No one, Tommy.” You whispered. “No one knows me like you.”

“Then why-“ his voice broke and he stopped talking. You rested your head against his, moving your nose along his cheekbone.

“Then why are you gonna end up with somebody else?” He finished his sentence as he composed himself.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to.” You wiped your tears off your face. “I wanted it to be you. I was so sure it would be.”

“How did this happen?” Tom sniffled. “How is this fates design?”

“I guess we just weren’t meant to be.” You shrugged sadly as you rubbed your face again.

“But how?” He wondered. “How are we not meant to be?”

“I wish I knew.” You told him as you nuzzled your face against his.

“I wish I knew too.” Tom swallowed as he leaned into your touched. You let out a sigh before sitting up on your knees and hovering over his face.

“Hey.” You smiled at him as you stroked his cheek. “I loved you just as much when I was 13 as I do at 23.”

“I love you too but what does that matter?” Tom whimpered. “We’re not supposed to be together.”

“One silver hair does nothing determine who I end up with. I don’t care if fate says we’re not supposed to be together. My heart says we are.” You decided. “You’re the one I want. I’m not interesting in anyone else.”

“Really?” Tom calmed down long enough to hear you out.

“My youth is yours.” You told him. “Everything of mine is yours.”

“But you’re going to continue aging and I’m gonna be stuck like this.” He reminded you.

“There are worse faces to be stuck with.” You smiled softly at him as you rubbed your thumb on his cheek.

“You’re not gonna want to be seen with an 18 year old the rest of your life. People will look at you funny.

“I don’t care how it looks.” You shrugged. “I want this. I want us.”

Tom stared at your upside down face for a moment before smiling at you.

“I want us too.”

You returned his smile before leaning down and kissing him, taking a moment to adjust to the awkward position and slot your lips together. Tom brought his hand to the back of your head to pull you closer as you sat up even more. You moved in sync until you pulled away to catch your breath.

“You know how long I’ve been waiting to do that?” You chuckled as you sat down again.

“Trust me, darling.” Tom laughed as well. “I know exactly how long.”

~

“Morning!” You chirped as you took a seat at your desk a few weeks later.

“Good morning.” Chris greeted you. “Did you have a nice weekend?”

“I did.” You sighed happily. “Did you?”

“Not really.” He shook his head. “I spent the weekend in a bit of a panic.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You frowned. “What happened?”

“It’s so weird.” He chuckled. “I look like I’m 18 for the past few years and all the sudden I get laugh lines. I just looked into the mirror on Friday and saw them.”

“Laugh lines?” You laughed nervously as a panic set in.

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I guess I’m aging finally.”

“Good for you.” You faked a smile. “So you’ve met your soulmate?”

“I mean, I must’ve right?” He asked. “I don’t know who it is, I just know I’ve started to age. It’s pretty weird knowing they could be anybody I currently know.”

“Yeah, that’s really weird.” You agreed.

“Sorry, I keep talking about myself.” Chris shook his head. “Have you met your soulmate?”

“Yeah. His names Tom.” You smiled proudly.

“That him?” Chris pointed to a framed photo of you and Tom you had on your desk.

“Yeah.” You nodded and pushed the picture closer to Chris. “I just took that last week.”

“Funny.” Chris commented as he leaned forward to look at the picture. “He looks a little young.”

“Yeah.” You laughed nervously as you quickly withdrew the picture. “Funny.”

part two

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[tastyykpop]

𝑆𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑢𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

•pairings: enemy, barista and student!jaemin x student and barista!reader

♡𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡♡

<next>

•warnings: dom!jaemin, brat!reader, brat taming, crying kink, hair pulling, choking, small praising, small size kink, degradation (slut, whore), dumbification (sexual and non sexual use) nanas kinda mean :( but gets a lil nicer :), jaemin refers to himself as nana a lot mostly when they do the dirty, bulging kink, pet names (princess, baby, baby girl, little girl, pretty girl), unprotected sex (please be safe), slight face slapping (he slaps her once), rough sex clearly, some sexual tension, I hope i got everything

You were fuming!

The boy in front of you not even batting an eyelash, just laughing at the mess dripping down your face.

You smelt like an iced americano.

People around you held their hands to their mouths in shock and others tried to hold back their laughter. Some even pointed at you or gave sympathetic looks.

It wasnt like people were surprised anymore. Jaemin always had something up his sleeve for you. But he never went as far as pouring his coffee on you.

"Aw poor baby. Do you need a napkin?" He faked sympathy with a pout and his friends began laughing. You just got up and walk by them, making sure to bump into jaemins shoulder on your way through.

It was almost everyday that Jaemin would do something so uncalled for. It was like he was made to push your buttons. Even as you're walking out of the college building, you can still hear the boy laughing at you. Or maybe it was the other students. Either way, you wanted to kill him.

As you trudged towards your car, a sense of relief washed over you. A great happiness that only comes when you finished your classes and could go home. Only this happiness stayed for a good 2 hours until you have to go to your part time job at the cafe with your favorite person of course. But its not like you can quit. You need the money so you can live and get the education you need, no matter how hard it is being with him.

It was then when you sat in your car and the squishing in the seat made your face curl into a scowl, only made you think of ways to get away with murder. It was gross really. The seats were sticky, plus your hair and clothes were sticking to you like lip gloss. A shower would be perfect right about now.

"Hi y- oh..." Your roommate, jimin, stared at your messy state. Giving you a good up and down before shrugging his shoulders, "jaemin?"

You sighed, walking over to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, "Who else? Its always him."

Jimin gave you a small smile and came closer as if ready to hug you but didn't because he didn't want to get sticky. "You know, maybe you should quit that job."

"No."

He groaned and snatched the water that you were about to sip, "Why? You'd only see jaemin in school. And you wouldnt have to stick with his bickering in work." He huffed, shaking his head, "Girls are so difficult sometimes."

You tried leaping up to grab the bottle from jimin, but all he did was hold it above his head. You stomped on his foot in return. Jimin huddled over and you snatched the bottle, smirking with victory as you put it to your lips.

"You fucking snake." Jimin hissed in pain.

A laugh fell from your lips as you walked by him, completely ignoring his words and his pain, "Im gonna take a shower."

Once you got to your room, the first thing you did was grab your work clothes, a towel, and underwear and got ready for the warm shower.

After you switched on the water and let it heat up, you stepped in and immediately felt at peace as the water cascaded over your body, cleaning off the almost dried coffee. Your hair felt lighter, like a feather and your fingers could now slip through the strands easily without an issue. The scent of your body wash overpowered the coffee smell and you felt much better. Water, soap, and coffee were beginning to fill the drain as you finished washing up. You rolled your eyes at the sight of the murky water. What a bastard.

For once you were actually happy to wear your work clothes after what had happened earlier. The clothes actually felt comfortable and jimin was becoming more and more confused as to why you were hugging yourself with a huge smile on the couch.

"No one should be that happy after a shower." He started flipping through channels on the t.v.

"Dont tell me how to feel, I dont smell like jaemins coffee anymore." You gushed overdramtically. Jimin could only role his eyes.

"Please...you act like he's a demon of some sort."

You squinted your eyes at jimin and flared your nostrils, "he is. Hes a nasty, dumb, annoying, self centered-"

"Okay okay I get it! You hate jaemin! The funny thing is you can never get his name out of your mouth." Everything stopped and your head snapped in jimins directions.

"What are you saying?" A frown found itself on your face, jimin leaned closer.

"Im saying that maybe you might like him."

You shrieked in disgust, blocking your ears with your hands. Jimin laughed at your reaction. Almost falling off the couch in the process. "Ew! Gross! Why would you even think that!"

"Like I said, you can never get his name out of your mouth. I think its pretty obvious you like him." He was still giggling at you except your face was anything but happy, more grossed out at how he thought you could like such a person

"I can't stand you. I'm leaving for work." You stood up and jimin did nothing to stop you from going. Even though you still had about 15 minutes until you normally leave. "Ill be back at 9." The door slammed behind you, leaving jimin alone with another laughing fit.

You got in the car and drove off to your work, still trying to come up with a reason as to why jimin is saying all this. Sure maybe you talk about jaemin a little lot but that doesn't mean you like him. Its very much the opposite and jimin should know that. It only frustrates you the more you think about it. Liking someone like jaemin? Please. That would be your nightmare.

As you pulled up to the cafe, there were only a few other cars parked. Few were from other workers but the majority were most like customers or people just trying to get a free parking space. Lucky for you, there were many open spaces, unlike when you come later and they're filled. Maybe leaving earlier wasnt such a bad idea. It saved you the 3 minute walk.

"Y/n! You're just on time!" One of your coworkers, irene, called out as you stepped inside the shop. "We need help back here!" You had no time to even begin to say your shift hasn't started yet when irene took you by the hand and dragged you to where the coffee was being made. "We have a bunch of online orders coming in so can you please help us with the coffee and food?" She tossed you a brown apron for you to put on and you nodded, trying to get your brain to speed up with everything in the world.

It was so quiet when you walked in that you never even realized that the back was busy. Coffee cups were filled and put into trays for orders, food was being heated or baked. It was a chaotic place right now and all you could do was help. So as fast as you could, you began with the first order on the screen. A large mocha with extra extra sugar, whipped cream, and chocolate curls. Easy enough you thought as you reached for a cup but a hand beat you to it.

Your eyes looked up at the person in front of you and just when you thought everything was going fine, it wasn't, "What are you doing here so early?" You asked bitterly.

"I always come in early. What are you doing here so early?" Jaemin asked whilst holding a death grip on the cup.

"Just felt like coming early." You muttered, watching as jaemin turned away with a scoff, quickly cutting the conversation short. "Bastard."

Jaemin was busy making what you were originally going to do, so you looked for another order to get ready. It was just two cake pops and a small strawberry banana smoothie. Something you've been craving recently from the lack of sweetness and fruit in your day to day life.

The cake pops and smoothie were quick to make and were soon sent off to the customer. You happily beamed and wished them good day once they left.

After then there was a familiar face with a friend right next to him, he was quite handsome you must say. He was indeed so handsome that he just looked unreal. "Hey jimin. Whose this?" You nodded towards the bright black haired man.

"This is taemin! He wanted some coffee so I brought him- hey stop staring at him!" Jimin snapped you out of your trance and taemin chuckled.

"Its okay shes cute." He eye smiled, showing off his perfectly white teeth. He's definitely not real.

Jimin tsk'd, "Until you get to know her."

"Yeah yeah... whatever." You smiled at him, completely oblivious to what he just said.

They both ordered and took a seat next to the window. You were still staring at taemin with your head in your hand until someone tapped your shoulder, "Who are they?" Jaemins voice rang in your ears, making you stand up straight.

"Thats my roommate, jimin, and his friend taemin." You glanced back at the boys, mainly at taemin and just stared like he was your first crush.

"Quit staring your gonna scare him away." Jaemin said earning himself a chuckle from you.

You stuck your tongue out, "He called me cute."

The boy smirked from ear to ear and leaned in close to your face, "He was lying." You grumbled and pushed him away from you, getting annoyed by his presence very quickly.

"Jaemin and y/n, get back to work we have orders to do!" Irene called out. Both of you quickly returning to your stations and getting things ready.

"Look at him. Hes basically waiting for me to come over to him." Seulgi, another person in this school you dispise, said as she looked at jaemin in the back of the room. She wasn't very quiet either considering you were only a few seats away from him. So it only meant that jaemin could hear her, but chose to ignore it. Typical boy.

"Honestly. He looks so good today too." Sana, her best friend, commented.

"Oh and did you hear what he was planning on doing today to y/n? Apparently he's gonna-"

"Class get back in your seats, we have much to discuss." The professor stood in the front of the class. Everyone shifted and moved to their appropriate places and waited for the teacher to begin. Unlike you, who was wondering what seulgi was going to say next. If its something worse than coffee being poured on your head, you may just have to bury yourself six feet under after this.

As you were taking notes something flung towards your head and hit you on the side, looking over was jaemin with a smirk was he held his fingers in a sling shot shape. A rubber band was laying on your lap. Then another one. One even hit your cheek creating a small smack sound as you winced in pain. Oh you desperately wanted to get out of this seat and punch the boy in the face.

"Excuse me sir!" You called out, raising your head. The whole class looked at you and your cheeks began to heat up. "May i go to the restroom?" The professor nodded and you headed out. Not until you stopped in your tracks from a loud smack to your butt, causing the whole class to turn around again.

Jaemin was enjoying this, the way you stared at him with wide eyes and open mouth, made him just want to do it again. He never thought this reaction from you would be so entertaining and he tried his best not show it, with only a small smirk covering his face.

You rushed out of the room, faster than ever and leaned against the nearest surface you could find. Not only were you questioning reality, but also why jaemin just did that.

"That little bitch." You said to yourself as you paced back and forth in the hallway, staring at the ground.

"Excuse me?" Jaemin voice rang in your ears as you looked up with a angry red face. Steam was even coming out of your ears and nose. "Did you just call nana a bitch?" He put his hands to his chest and pouted, "Little girl you need to learn some manners." Jaemin tilted his head to the side and began walking forward.

"Shut up." You had nothing else to say as you grit your teeth, looking at the ground.

Jaemin didnt like that and grabbed the back of your neck to make you look at him, "What? Did your stupid head stop thinking? Your normally so chatty for nana what happened?"

"Jaemin i-" you cut yourself off as you felt jaemin grip the back of your neck tighter causing you to moan in pain.

"Stupid girl." Jaemin whispered, forcefully pushing you away. It was not strong enough to make you fall but at least stumble.

You glowered, earning yourself a chuckle from him. "What will it take for you to leave me alone!?"

"Bring this to table 15 please! Thanks!" Irene smiled as she handed you a small cup of iced coffee and you took it, taking it to its designated place. What you didn't except was to see taemin again, gleaming up at you.

"Hi y/n." He smiled and you tried to remain calm.

God how is someone so beautiful?

"Hey, I didnt except you to come back." You returned the warm smile and started to play with the apron around your waist.

Taemin giggled, "I actually quite like this place, its cozy." He began to take a sip from the straw, eyes still trained on you. If only you weren't so awkward with him, you wouldve found something to say other than staring at him and indulging in the beauty before you. But lucky for you someone behind the counter called for you, quickly averting your attention back to work.

The next order was a shake, so you grabbed the correct ingredients and began using the blendor, when someone came next to you, doing the same thing "You seem like your having fun flirting around." The unwanted conversation with jaemin began, "makes nana kind of jealous."

"Hm funny." You ignored him and continued blending the ice cream.

Jaemin casually rolled his eyes and glanced down at your nonchalant face before returning back to the blender, "you know you really do piss me off."

You sneered and snickered to yourself, "what are you gonna do about it?"

"I was thinking of fucking you dumb or until you know your place but maybe thats a bit too rewarding."

The cup was removed and set aside from the blender with your hands placed on your hips, "Im sorry what?"

"Did I stutter?" Jaemin raised an eyebrow and also put the cup down. You went silent, not knowing whether or not to just laugh it off or quickly run away. "And I'm still waiting on my apology."

"One, I am not going to apologize to your bitchy ass. Two, even if I did let you, you could never 'fuck me dumb', it just wouldn't happen. Now stop trying to get in my pants."

Jaemin opened then closed his mouth about to say something, but didn't and just put on a sweet smile, "Go take these to table 7 for nana." He said like he was testing yoj.

"Why? You made them."

"Nana told you to do something little girl, now do it." Jaemins sweet smile was still plastered on his face yet it intimidated you enough to do as he said.

Taemin was long gone when you walked out and you were kind of sad as you weren't able to say goodbye before he left. You placed the shake down on the table and was ready to walk away when you heard your name being called.

"Y/n? You work here?" Seulgis voice spoke as you turned around. Both her and sana were looking at you with shit eating grins.

"Doesn't jaemin also work here seulgi?" Sana asked the girl in front of her and seulgi looked as if she got the brightest idea.

"Oh yeah! Y/n can you get jaemin over here? Pretty please?" She asked sweetly yet with a hint of sourness and you listened, not feeling like ignoring her at the moment.

You told jaemin that seulgi and sana were out front looking for him and he nonchalantly went out without question. Leaving you to do some of the work alone, which you didn't mind considering its jaemin, the annoying bastard who won't leave you alone, but he does help you whenever you need it. And right now, it was a bit busy, and you needed it.

After doing 4 more online orders and sending them off through the driveway, jaemin finally came back with a scowl on his face looking ready to beat someone up. "What the hell is wrong with you!?" He raised his voice only loud enough for you to hear. But you were quite confused on what was happening.

"What are you talking about?" You asked, tilting your head to the side like a puppy.

Jaemin groaned, "I knew you were fucking dumb but come on y/n! Why is seulgi covered in the shake i gave you?"

You paused for a moment, unable to answer that. Is he assuming you spilt her shake on her? Why would you even do that in the first place. Yeah you don't like her, but you're not going to stoop to her or his level. "I dont know."

He slammed his hand on the wall near your head, startling you a bit, "You dont know huh?" You shook your head slowly. "Seulgi and sana both said you purposefully spilt the shake on seulgi. Now answer me honestly. Is that true?" You shook your head again, feeling really small and helpless under his strong gaze.

"I-i didnt spill t-the skake." You muttered quietly.

He inhaled sharply, "Then who did huh? Or maybe you don't know because you're so dumb."

"S-stop..." you frowned, looking down at floor, but jaemin had other plans and made you look up at him. A single tear slide down your cheek and you swear you saw a small grin appear on his face.

"Tell nana what happened." His voice became softer as he swiped away the stray tear on your face.

You huffed, still afraid that he'd do something to you although you knew he wouldnt purposely cause you pain. "W-well she asked me to go get you, which I did, a-and her shake was perfectly fine when I left."

"Are you saying she purposely spilt the shake on herself to make me angry at you?"

"Y-yes."

"Ill believe my little girl for now, but if I find out you are lying, you will be in big trouble got that?" Jaemin lifted his hand off the wall and proceeded to walk back out of the room. Leaving you shocked at his words and still frightened by an angry jaemin.

You went to the cash register once jaemin left to get ready to count the bills until you heard jaemin and seulgi arguing. Lucky for them, no one but you and him were working right now. Irene went home earlier and the normal crew always leave around 6:30, leaving just you and jaemin.

"It was only a prank nana. No need to get so worked up. And besides you didn't even prank her today, be glad I did for you." Seulgi said smiling at the boy in front of her.

Jaemin physically cringed when he heard his nickname roll off her tongue, "you didn't have to do that."

You stood there watching, astonished how jaemin was standing up for you. Hes supposed to hate you. Jaemin didn't even bother going with the girls when they offered him a ride, instead he stayed with you and even helped close. Something he normally doesn't do because he leaves before you and gives you all the hard things to do.

"Hurry up and finish." Jaemin spoke. A little bit of anger still laced in his voice.

"Whats your rush?"

He sighed, "I wanna go home. Plus I can't stand this place right now. I'm pissed."

You finished wiping down that last table and walked over to him, "Just go home then."

"Not without you."

You gave him a dirty look, "im not going home with you."

Jaemin leaned down, his face only inches from yours and whispered, "Remember what I said earlier hm? I wanna fuck you dumb." He then grabbed your waist bringing you closer to him, if that was possible, "Can I do that pretty girl? Can nana fuck you so hard you won't even remember anything but my cock?" You were so lost in your mind that everything became a blur. Jaemins words sounded so sweet but were so lewd. And you were so close to kissing him until he put his finger on your lips, "But you have to wait." You frowned and were only getting more angry by the second. You went from not wanting anything to do with jaemin to just about ready to beg him to kiss you. Was it that easy for him to get in your head? Or were you so sex deprived that now jaemin seemed somewhat interesting?

You laid on jaemins bed getting bored with the constant teasing. He never did anything but that. Jaemin would get close to your lips and back away as you chased him. Hed chuckle and coo at you for being so desperate. But that wasn't the point of all the teasing. He really just wanted you to beg him to kiss you. No words will come out of his mouth telling you to beg, he just excepted it to happen sooner or later. But youre too stubborn to do so, so you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down to kiss him, catching him by surprise.

Jaemins hands gripped your wrists and pulled them off his face, pinning them to the bed, "You didnt even ask to kiss me." Jaemin pulled away, raising his eyebrow high, "Dont you think thats a bit mean."

"So was teasing me, but I let you continue." You huffed, trying to free your wrists from his death grip but it was no use.

"You dont have a say on whether i continue or not. I'm in charge here and you take what I give you, understand?" You rolled your eyes. It was your intention to make jaemin angry. You wanted to push his buttons.

What you didnt know was that not answering jaemin correctly would earn you a slap to the face. And jaemin was not even fazed by it.

"Dont roll your eyes and answer nana." Jaemin smiled. "Can you say 'yes nana'?"

"Y-yes nana."

"Good girl." Jaemin muttered and began slowly kissing your jawline down to your neck, sucking here and there creating shades of purple and red marks. Oh how he loved the marks he was leaving.

You so desperately wanted to grip onto jaemins hair and pull it but he never budged his hands, only tightening his grasps. As he continued attacking your neck, you began to lift your hips up to get some sort friction. Jaemin noticed and shifted so that his thigh was in between your legs and rubbing against your clothed core. A spew of quiet moans left your lips but you wanted more. Jaemin was going to soft and slow for your liking.

"I thought you were going to fuck me dumb?" You said and jaemin lifted his head to give you a quick kiss on the lips.

"Patience baby. You aren't ready yet." He let go of your wrists and took your shirt off. The cold air made you shiver and jaemin chuckled. "I wanna make you cum at least 2 times before I fuck you."

"Then stop talking and do it." You replied, pushing your hips up to rub against his thigh, but they were pushed back down on the bed.

"Didnt I say to take what I give you?" Your head slowly moved up and down and jaemin smiled, "so why arent you happy with what nana gives you?"

"I want more..." you sighed as he started to slide your pants and panties off, discarding them somewhere in the room. His mouth slowly started kissing your inner thighs and you could feel your heat dripping with anticipation. You whined for more but only got a slap to the thigh telling you to be quiet. Needless to say you didn't listen and continued to try to get him closer to where you needed him most but pulling his hair.

Jaemin groaned grabbing your wrist again and pushed it away roughly. His patience was wearing out. You were more stubborn than he thought, but that doesn't mean he can't still break you. "Next time you do that, I'll flip you over and beat your ass till its purple." Your breath hitched and as much as you were tempted, you wanted to be able to sit for a few days so you stayed put and kept your hands to yourself.

But the desperation was getting to you and you wanted relief which jaemin wasnt giving you until you felt his two fingers circling around your clit. "P-please jaemin." You moaned as he flicked your clit with his middle finger. Then soon enough he stuck two fingers inside you. Your pussy automatically clenching around his digits as he moved at a steady in and out pace.

It felt so good. His fingers felt so good. They made your body twist in pleasure as more moans left your mouth. Jaemin was watching your face closely as it contorted with pleasure. He loved seeing your eyebrows bunched together, so focused on the way his fingers worked inside you.

"My pretty slut. Taking nanas fingers so well." He gushed, still watching your face. Jaemin could feel himself get even more painfully hard but he didn't want to fuck you just yet. He meant it when he said he wanted you to cum 2 times. So he picked up the speed with his fingers, your hands landing on his forearm that was resting on near your hip. "Are you gonna cum for nana princess?"

You frantically nodded your head as a wave of pleasure washed over you. You could feel your cum leak out of you as jaemin leaned down and began eating away at your cunt.

"J-jaemin! So...go-good!" Your head flew back as his tongue sucked on your clit and a loud moan filled the room.

Jaemin smirked against your heat, "I haven't even fucked you yet and your already sounding like a dumb whore. Its so easy to break you princess."

"N-no its j-ju-...." you whimpered as your brain wasnt even trying to help you function right. His tongue was extraordinary. "Mmmm."

"Aw my dumb little princess is so cute." He muttered diving back into lapping at your soaked cunt. It was almost as if on cue and without warning, you were cumming again. Jaemins hasty tongue took it all. Groaning at the taste of you in his mouth.

He sat up over you, grabbing your neck, pulling you into a deep kiss. You tasted yourself on his tongue. Deepening the kiss by grabbing the back of his hair, jaemin couldnt help but moan a bit as his cock brushed against your thigh. He felt big. Bigger than the few guys you've been with and you were ecstatic.

You tugged on jaemins pants and shirt as a way to tell him to take them off and he did after getting off of you and sitting on the edge of the bed. His abs were more defined than you thought and when his cock sprung free, your mouth started watering. Jaemins smirk only grew watching you stare. He was starting to get cocky

"What? You wanna suck my cock?" Jaemin asked sweetly.

"Yes please." You reached over to try and touch him but he didn't allow you. And smacked your hand away. It was a way for him to tease you and you hated it.

"So kind for nana now. Ealier you were so cock hungry that you decided to be a brat. Did nana finally break you?" Jaemin whispered as he moved a piece of hair out of your face, looking at you with fill admiration.

"No you didn't break me. But I wanna suck you off." You whined as jaemin picked you up and sat you just above his cock, the tip teasing at your entrance.

"Too bad. Now I want you to sit." Jaemin said looking into your eyes. You obeyed with a little hesitation. His cock was surely going to hurt you so you took it slowly and started lowering your hips. "Fuck...thats a good girl." Jaemin praised, watching his cock dissappear between your legs and your tummy get full with his cock. "My baby's so tiny you can see my cock in your belly." He said, pushing down on the area where he was imprinted in you.

Slowly you started moving, lifting your hips up and down. You were wet enough that he could easily slide in and out with no problem.

Jaemins head fell back as he sighed with relief, grunting as you picked up the pace, "So tight for nana." He whispered and you moaned back loudly. His cock stretched every inch of you to the point where it felt like you'd split.

"More more more." You whined against jaemins neck, gripping his shoulders tightly. Carefully jaemin flipped you both over so he was on top and continued pounding into your destroyed cunt. He kept a hand around your neck squeezing it every so often as a choked out moan left your throat.

His cock was so deep and fast that you couldn't think straight. You kept blabbering about his cock. Only thing on your mind was how nice he felt inside you. Jaemin bit his lip as he smirked at you, grabbing your hair and bringing your face close to his, "Now will you admit that I fucked you dumb and say your nanas dumb slut?"

"Y-yes, I'm na-nanas dumb sl-slut." You cried, tears falling down your face from how good he felt inside and if you thought jaemin couldn't go any faster, he did. His thrusts were hard and rough, sure enough to hurt your thighs tomorrow as he pounded relentlessly. "So close." Your voice came out choked as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You held on to jaemins hand that was on your neck as he helped you with your orgasm.

Jaemin wasnt far behind you with his and groaned loudly, "fuck, where do you want it princess?"

"I-inside." You moaned as the feeling of hot cum was shot inside you. Jaemins hips kept moving him through his orgasm until he slowly came to a stop. Both of you panted loudly, there were even a few tears falling down your cheek here and there.

Jaemin slowly pulled out, making sure not to hurt you, and he laid beside you. "You did so well." He kissed your forehead. "Cmon ill carry you to bathroom so we can take a bath." He said picking up your worn out naked figure with so much care. Making you forget he was your enemy.

[oliviayamaoka]

The Roseville Murders (Chapter 2)

Hi, just wanted to say I adjusted the plot slightly and will go into more detail with the story next chapter! This was a bit experimental and I wanted to write the growing relationship / rivalry between Y/N and Danny. I also wanted to write Y/N as a girlboss and to be just as witty as Danny!

Anyways, please comment any ideas or suggestions you may wanna see in future chapters! I have this planned out but would love any ideas or stuff I can add into the story! Tysm for reading!

It rained softly outside as you took a seat at your workplace. The desk was a bit cluttered with your art, notes, junk, and your papers regarding your current investigation.

One of the drawings on your desk was a sketch of Ghostface’s mask, attached to it was a few notes regarding the origin of the mask. Did Ghostface care for the history of it, anyways? You already theorized he was a narcissist who took pride in his work. Perhaps, he admired Edward Munch and his infamous “The Scream” artwork? Or maybe he based his persona off of it? You weren’t too sure but you did research the distribution and the company that made the masks. It wasn’t a particular popular company but it only distributed to the USA, Canada, and Brazil.

Ghostface didn’t seem too caring when it came to where he stabbed victims. As long as there was a lot of blood and something only he could perceive as art. And maybe you too. You felt excited, you already had a three year timeline. Maybe, you could get ahold of other states and ask if there’s been similar killings. Maybe even Brazil and Canada? You had to pinpoint a location and see if you could find just one name, any name.

Three years. Three countries. A part of you doubted he was Brazilian. Maybe Canadian? You weren’t so sure, you were pretty sure he was American. Y/N would probably have to go to the library tommorow to do research and use the slowly growing internet. Your research was suddenly halted when you knocked your sketchbook over.

Our slid a page. You kneeled down to pick it up, holding it as you examined the dark sketch. On the paper was a sketch of claws? No, they also looked like tentacles. Ever since the incident, you had dreams of these tentacle claws grabbing you and pulling you away from life as you know it. It must’ve been a sign of trauma or maybe it represented what happened through the nightmares? You slid it back into your sketchbook, deciding not to dwell on it. It would only make your room feel more depressing.

Beside your sketchbook was your leather journal. Y/N wrote everything in there, for mental health reasons. You included the incident and what Jonathan did for you. Your previous therapist said journaling your thoughts helped the healing process. It worked but journaling about how you killed your abuser was hell.

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted when your phone rang. It was a chunky, black mobile phone you got about a week ago? Y/N reached for it and answered.

“Hello?” You answered, using your other hand to organize your desk.

“Hello?” A voice answered, it was a male by the sound of it.

“Hi, who’s this?” Y/N asked, paying no mind to the phone call as she started to put some of her stuff away. Art supplies.

“Who’s this?” He replied.

“Y/N L/N, am I who you’re trying to reach?” You asked, sitting back down.

“Ah, you’re no fun, detective.” He chuckled as you stopped, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. Who was this?

“My apologies but, this is my personal phone. Can I ask who gave you this number?” You questioned him.

“Why does it matter, gorgeous? I know it’s you now.” He responded.

“Please don’t call me that. And yes, I am indeed a detective but I’d feel more comfortable discussing anything with you on my work phone.” Y/N said sternly.

“Oh, yeah… Detective L/N, huh? Think you’re some sort of hotshot because you’re new? Where did you come from? Washington? Gonna take more than the feds to catch me.” He said to you.

You listened intently and stopped for a moment. Catch him? Must be a stupid prank. Although, not a funny one since he had your personal phone number. An eyebrow raised as you looked at your notes on Ghostface.

“You still haven’t told me your name. Let’s not be rude, yeah?” You responded, being a little more cocky since you were off-duty.

“Awe, don’t tell me you forgot my name. I’ll give you a hint… I’ve been quite famous lately. In fact, I think you’ve taken quite the interest in me, Y/N.” The man teased. It was 100% Danny.

“I asked for a name, not an alias.” You said.

“Maybe after dinner, hotshot.” Danny said to you as you furrowed your eyebrows.

“I’m not in Roseville to play games. Either verify you are who you claim to be or quit wasting my time.” Y/N spoke with a stern tone.

“My last victim had three stab wounds to the throat. It was going to be two but their scream wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be. And they had a tattoo on their upper thigh. Bella Smith.” He said as you froze for a moment.

It was true. The latest murder victim was a middle-aged woman named Bella Smith who worked at a convenience store. She had multiple stab wounds but it was pretty much impossible to see she had three wounds on her throat just looking at photos of the crime scene.

“Okay and how did you get my number? I imagine the infamous Ghostface doesn’t have access to these types of things. How do I know this isn’t some sort of elaborate prank orchestrated by my coworkers?” You questioned.

“Honey, I am Roseville. Also sounds like you have experience with these kinds of things. You ever get humiliated like that?” Danny asked, grinning widely.

“No, it’s just a very logical conclusion. And why would you be talking to me anyways?” You asked him.

While you spoke to him, you quickly wrote down what he said and what he sounded like. You quickly speculated what his age may be, maybe 25?

“I keep tabs on the cops who are investigating my work and to be honest? They’re all stupid, it’s pathetic. Although, I noticed something about you. You come from one of the big cities, don’t you? You’re actually smart compared to those other pigs.” He said.

“Those pigs you speak of have tried their best in pursuing you. They have families too.” You responded.

“Really, huh? You’ve only been here three weeks? I think you should just trust me on this one because those other officers really don’t know what they’re doing. If you actually find out who I am, are they gonna give you credit? The newbie? A woman?” He asked.

“I don’t understand why gender is an issue. And why would they try to steal credit?” You questioned.

“They’re stuck in this shit hole city and I bet they could just really use a promotion right now. They want so badly to be the hero that arrests me… but first, they’ll let the freshly graduated detective do the work. It’s so easy to overshadow women in this world.” Danny said.

“Well, I don’t care. As long as you’re put behind bars.” Y/N responded.

“The bars at this station? I must say, your desk is quite cute. A bit plain but I like your style… interesting files too.” He mused.

“Huh?” You responded, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Your lil’ office at the station, I like it. This place has always been easy to break into. You noticed it too, didn’t you? Their security sucks and their morgue is just too damn small.” Danny said as you frantically looked around, shoving your shoes on.

“I’m going to call them right now and tell them you’re there. That was a stupid move on your part.” You said, practically yelling.

“So young and naive. I’ll be long gone.” He responded, chuckling as you hung up.

“Fuck, shit!” You said, quickly dialling the number to the police station.

You practically flung your door open, sprinting down the hallway and out through the front doors of the apartment complex after three flights of stairs. Your heart rate increased as you continued running down the sidewalk, feeling more frantic when there was no answer.

“Answer…!” You yelled, calling the emergency number.

“911, how can I help you?” A staticky voice answered as you continued running.

“I’m Detective Y/N L/N! Please inform the police station that there’s an intruder! He might be armed and dangerous! Do not touch anything since there may be forensic evidence!” You instructed.

“Oh—yes, right away, ma’am!” The dispatcher answered as you hung up, continuing to focus on your running towards the station.

Back at your apartment complex, there stood Danny with his own mobile phone. It couldn’t be traced back to him since it was stolen and he didn’t leave any DNA on it. If anything, it had the previous owners. Bella Smith. Your apartment complex had fire escape stairs outside your window. Easy enough, he thought. His outfit was black and had some stuff hanging off it. Strings? Ribbons? Danny was quite quick and extremely quiet when it came to climbing the set of stairs.

He reached your window, pulling it open gently and hoisting himself through, landing gently whilst kneeled down. For precaution, he had his knife gripped in one hand. This was purely for investigation and to see what you truly had on him. His head tilted curiously as he noticed your desk. Your art and notebook. His gloved hand reached out to your sketch of him.

Danny was truly impressed at how detailed and good it was. He read through your sticky notes and theories. Other than the fact he was blown away, he knew you were a threat since you successfully guessed his age range and height. Wait, his height? You did a careful examination of the footage he was in, looking at objects around him and his boots to correctly guess a height.

“What the fuck…?” Danny muttered as he looked at your notes.

The Scream by Edward Munch and a costume company? He skimmed over your notes and the psychological profile you built on him. He felt somewhat panicked since you were indeed no joke. His gaze averted towards your leather notebook. Eagerly, he grabbed it and opened it. Most of it was your thoughts and causes of your stress and anxiety. He stopped flipping through when he saw a darker page. It was dark because of the writing and how crumpled it seemed.

December 23rd, 1992

I was walking down an alleyway two weeks ago. It was cold so I had a jacket over my uniform. I suppose that’s why the man didn’t know I was an officer.

At first, I thought that he was going to try and rob me. It took me a while to realize that my money and belongings wasn’t what he was after. I suppose it would be appropriate to say that I was in shock for a moment. He never finished what he started. Despite being in shock, I was able to feel everything and the adrenaline only helped my rage.

Why? Why did this have to happen to me? After getting him off, I pulled my gun out and he stopped. I still remember the look on his face after I shot him. He was scared and pathetic, as he was in life. I don’t regret killing him. I never will. I just feel utterly violated. Never once have I been touched like that so violently. Is this what this fucked up world has come to? What if I didn’t have my gun and training?

He definitely did this to other women… he deserved to die. And I would do it all over again to him and to other men just like him. Of course, I had to call the police. They were going to charge me with manslaughter but they said that they would push this all under the rug, just as long as I never tell anybody. Did I contribute to corruption in the police force? This getting out would ruin everything. I don’t know but I do know that this was my gift.

Freedom was my gift for killing that man. It felt oddly exhilarating. I hope nobody remembers him, I hope his family know what kind of monster he was. Anyways, I’m being reassigned somewhere. They said they’ll give me my first investigation. In a smaller city.

Danny’s fingers trailed over the page. He felt angry and sad for you. That this happened to you. But, something arose in him when he kept re-reading that paragraph. You… enjoyed it? Behind the mask, he had a soft expression on his face. He imagined your beautiful face full of blood with you and your gun. He smiled gently as he kept the notebook.

He did indeed feel bad for you but he wasn’t satisfied with his limited knowledge of you. Danny decided to use this notebook of incriminating evidence to hold some leverage over you. Not only that but he figured he’d get to know you better if they had something interesting to talk to you about. Danny couldn’t help but grin when he thought about your journal entry and the sketches you made of him. So smart yet so naive.

Danny quickly took a look around your apartment to see all points of entry. He took a peak into your bedroom, it was neat and tidy. He seemed somewhat paranoid so quickly went back to your living room window, making his swift little escape. Not without taking some of your notes on him and your sketchbook.

About two hours later, you rubbed your eyes in frustration as another officer came to talk to you. There was a forensic team still investigating your little office space. Apparently, there was nobody here and your office seemed untouched. For about thirty minutes, you inspected any points of entry and tried to look for out of place shoe marks since it rained outside.

“Detective, are you certain it was the killer who called? We get prank calls a lot.” He said as you nodded.

“Yes, I’m certain. It was him, he knows I’m going to catch him soon.” You said as he nodded a bit.

“Okay, well, we’ll take it from here. Come early tommorow.” He said as you sighed.

“I will but please, don’t miss anything. I’m starting to think he was lying. It was him though.” You said as you turned, walking down the hallway towards the exit.

It seemed to be evening at this point and the rain stopped pouring. It was slightly humid but the city looked oddly beautiful when it was wet? You couldn’t stop thinking about your phone call with Ghostface earlier. Y/N already had some tech professionals try to track the number he called from and all of the information regarding the phone company. You’d have to wait two days at the latest for the results to come back.

As you walked through light puddles, you felt more and more tired. All the running and frantically searching for him was enough to just make you exhausted. It was all last-minute too. Y/N stopped dead in her tracks when she felt her mobile phone ring. You pulled it out of your pocket and answered it.

“Hello?” You asked, tired.

“Hey, gorgeous. Just wanted to apologize for my little deception trick earlier.” He responded as your eyes widened.

“Ghostface…” You responded, shocked that he had the courage to call you again.

“God, hearing that from you…” He said with a slight husk as you took a deep breath quietly to calm yourself.

“You know I’m close, don’t you?” You questioned him as he chuckled.

“Of course, I do… only these hands of mine can do wonders for you.” Danny said to you as you scoffed.

“You’re disgusting.” You say to him.

“Don’t lose your temper now, detective. There’s… things we should discuss.” He cooed.

“Things? Seriously?” You asked him, already tired of his bullshit.

“Yeah! Like, this lil’ notebook of yours! Really deep stuff… Victor Houston, was it? The serial rapist? Must’ve felt real good to put him down, didn’t it? Did it feel as good as you said it did in this thing?” He asked as you froze.

You probably let out a small whimper of shock as your hands trembled. Your heart pumped hard and fast. It was all you can hear as you felt your face heat out of pure embarrassment and shock. He… read your journal? This wasn’t good, this wasn’t good.

“W-What…?” You asked as he cackled.

“God, you’re so hot when you sound scared. Don’t be offended though, babe. You still sound real sexy in your cop tone.” He said as he continued.

“Yeah, I read all about the guy you killed. And how it was all covered up to accommodate you. Are you a star student or something? It’s hard covering up murders… or has it always been easy for you?” He asked.

“I-I, um… how did you get that…?” You asked him, trembling.

“You see, Y/N… we’re the same. You and I are too smart for Roseville. It’s just that I got the upper hand this time. While you rushed to the police station, I took a quick trip into your apartment.” He said as you let out a light gasp.

“Yeah, that’s right! I know where you live, I know where you’re from, and your number. I know who you truly are, Detective Y/N L/N.” Danny said mockingly.

“And what are you going to do with it?” You asked him.

“Always so straight to the point. I might give that annoying little journalist Jed Olsen. You’re trying to work with him, aren’t you? You mentioned in one of these notes… you also think he’s handsome.” He said as you covered your eyes.

You fought tears.

“Why? Why would you do this?” You ask.

“I should be asking you that. I’m a bit jealous you find someone like Olsen… attractive. He’s so boring, so normal, so… ugh, I hate talking about him. Still though, nice to know I have another fan besides him.” He said to you.

“Where are you going with this?!” You snapped as he chuckled darkly.

“I won’t tell anybody. Just as long as you halt your investigation for a while. I still want to have fun in Roseville here and well… get to know you.” He said.

“Go to hell.” You muttered.

“How original… so what’ll it be? I kinda need to know now since I’m also on a bit of a time crunch.” Danny asked you.

“W-What the fuck do you want me to do? Sit back and watch as you kill more innocent people?! I won’t let you.” You said with a venomous tone.

“What are you gonna do? Stop me behind bars?” He asked mockingly.

“Fuck you.” You said.

“I’m sure we will. But first, I just want you to sit back and not do anything stupid. We’ll see each other eventually. I’ll call you from another phone soon.” He said, hanging up.

You held your phone in disbelief and quickly made sure you had your gun. How the hell could you have been so dumb?! It was genius, leading you away from you apartment and finding such leverage against you purely out of luck. Your breath trembled as you walked back to your apartment, having your gun ready in your pocket as you did so.

[wordsfromthesol]

The Interview

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: @zphilophobiaz @malfoys-demigod @pricetagofficial Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Summary: Your name slips in one of Dick Grayson's interviews and creates issues in every aspect of your life. Word Count: 1.2k

Part Two

"So I'm joined here with Richard Grayson, the eldest son of billionaire Bruce Wayne. And really there is just one question on everyone's mind. Where were you during his charity event this past weekend? You certainly weren't there, and Wayne enterprises had no recollection of a business trip. Have you had a falling out with your father?"

"Please, call me Dick. And I didn't know I would be bombarded with conspiracy theories this early in the morning."  Dick was attempting to buy himself as much time as possible to formulate a lie. "Unfortunately, the real answer is much less superfluous. Y/N was quite ill, so I thought my time was best spent tending to her." Why your name popped in his head, he still wasn't sure.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Is your girlfriend doing better now?" The interviewer didn't know exactly who this "Y/N" person that Dick referred to was, but they were determined to find out.

"Yes yes, she's as good as new." Dick didn't bother correcting your assumed status. It was just one short interview on the morning gossip channel. What more could come of it? Or so he thought...

**

You always ran late on Monday mornings and today was no different. Racing through the office corridor, you didn't even notice the obvious stares from coworkers. Almost as soon as you sat down at your desk your coworker Josh darted towards you.

"Y/N  Y/M/N  Y/L/N. WHY WOULD YOU NOT TELL ME?!"

"Uh…you're going to have to be a bit more specific." Your eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Dick Grayson?!" Josh exclaimed the name as if something should be obvious.

"Okay…not very helpful. We've been friends for years? You knew this. Did something happen to him?" You were still utterly confused about his sudden outburst.

"Friends" he scoffed at the apathetic use of the word before pulling out his phone. Within seconds you were watching the interview clip from this morning's talk show.

"Heh, right. About that…can you just give me a minute?" Your voice unconsciously went up several octaves as you stuttered out the sentence. Josh glared at you with a suspicious look in his eyes as you scurried off to the bathroom. Anger bubbled up inside you as you made sure the bathroom was clear before punching Dick's number into your phone.

"Y/N, what's up?" Dick's casual greeting was the last straw.

"Are you KIDDING me?! WHAT'S UP?!" The exasperated words poured out of you.

"Heh…you uh saw the interview then." He quickly learned his mistake after the interview clip accumulated hundreds of thousands of views in a matter of hours.

"Want to explain further, please. I'd like to know why I'm involved in this lie. Which will be heard by millions of people." A sour taste lingered in your mouth as you waited for his response.

"It's no big deal really. I just kinda needed an alibi. For why I wasn't at dear old dad's latest soiree."

"Alibi? I'm sorry is my best friend a criminal now?"

"What? No. Don't be ridiculous." Dick tried to console you, but he was met with silence. You refused to budge on this matter, you needed a proper explanation. Dick finally let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine alright. I'll explain tonight. I can't talk about this over the phone."

"Seriously Dick, if you go to prison, I'm not waiting for you." Normally the quip would have been a joke, but at this point even you were unsure.

You took a moment to compose yourself before stepping out of the bathroom. Instead of walking back to your desk you immediately went towards your supervisor's office. There was no way you could get through the workday now; the barrage of questions would never cease.

Feigning a cough, you slowly entered their office. "I'm not feeling very *cough* well. I think it's *cough* best if I head home." There was no way your rouse was fooling them, but thankfully they let you go home anyways. If only you made it that far.

**

You woke up in a shitty motel room, arms tied to the headboard. "Aye Boss! The bitch is awake!" You heard the scream resonate through your mind as you blinked past the confusion.

"Finally," a brutish man plodded into the room. "You're that Wayne kid's girl. Right?" Though he phrased it as a question, he didn't wait for an answer. "Time to call the rich brat. You're gunna fetch me a pretty penny." A sordid smile graced across his lips as he grabbed your phone from the counter. It didn't take long for the device to start ringing, Dick's photo flashing across the screen.

"Y/N/N, I told you, we will talk tonight. I need sleep." You could hear the sleep deprivation in his voice.

"Oh dear boy, unfortunately, this is not your Y/N/N."

Dick's tone immediately changed into one you had not heard before, one laced with fury and panic. "Is she safe? What do you want?"

"Momentarily, and how do you put a price on human. On someone you love so dearly?" The sarcastic words fell effortlessly from your captor's lips. Like this was nothing, just a typical Monday. "Oh I know, how about 2 million."

"Let me speak to her." Had he done this before? The question rant through your mind as the gag was removed from your lips.

"Speak!" Your captor demanded.

"Dick…?" His name came out as more of a question. For some reason, you hoped he knew what was going on. Or perhaps this was all just some terrible nightmare.

"Sweetheart, just stay calm. I'm going to get you out of this. Are you hurt?"

"I…I'm fine…" you stammered out, knowing that one wrong move could make that statement obsolete.

"Alright lovebirds. That's enough. You have 2 hours to get the money." Before Dick could answer, the man hung up the phone and sauntered into the next room. "Well, looks like we got true love here fellas. The boy is gunna pay up." You heard at least 3 people howl with excitement…there goes your hope for escape.

**

The first hour passed by agonizingly slow and your mind began to betray you. What if he won't pay? He will right? He's been your best friend for years. Two million wasn't too much. He would pay. Even if he asked Bruce for the money…he would pay…Right? He wouldn't just leave you there at the mercy of these -- the intrusive thoughts were interrupted by an explosion emanating from the other room. A few screams and grunts later, Nightwing appeared in the doorway.

"Y/N! Thank God you're okay!" He raced over to you, tugging at the ropes securing your arms to the headboard.

"Uh…Thanks?" You said while rubbing your wrists, still confused as to why the vigilante was here in the first place. "If you don't mind, I need to go kill my best friend now."

"Really? After I just saved you?" A smug smirk formed on his face as your mind pieced together the puzzle.

"Dick?! Seriously? This is why you needed an alibi?!"

[kalee60]

If it inspires you... maybe you could write an established relationship Steve and Bucky where they are completely in sync when it comes to the battle field and the kitchen but there’s one place they are like fumbling idiots. I don’t know where. No hard feelings if this sparks no ideas lol 😂💖💖💖

Oh Kay - this wonderful prompt you gifted me could have gone in so many different directions. And it most definitely inspired me to write something...

But it's neither a clever take on your words or a twisted storyline, therefore I have no apologies and I went the obvious route when filling your idea 😂 (why does my brain always try and get these boys naked?)

So this turned into something a little longer (of course), a little more ridiculous than anticipated, and features some very well intentioned Avengers and two idiots helplessly inept in love...

The fic made it to almost 5.5k and is also on ao3 here (with all tags necessary) if you prefer to read there instead, it'll be part of my stucky bingo fills - 'Sex Magic' and rated E for explicit sexual content 😉 so proceed below with caution...

Oh it's also the first time I've ever tried established relationship... hopefully I've pulled it off!

Steve was happy. 

He finally had a home to call his own, a brilliant team of coworkers, a place in the future and he had Bucky Barnes. After more years than Steve could count, Bucky and he had finally found themselves on the same page - different century, but on even ground. They’d kissed in the heat of the moment after a brutal mission, stated their affections clearly and decided after a breathless confession - to give forever a go.

Having been on the battlefield together for years, Bucky at his six and always there for Steve when he needed, and Steve, having had Bucky’s back no matter the situation (or trouble it got him into) - meant they had a solid base to grow from. And as soon as Sam took over the mantle of Cap, Steve was free to be himself for once, and although Nomad made appearances on the odd occasion, he and Bucky still fought flawlessly together, seamlessly, almost at one in their movements.

It was magical.

But not only were they in sync when under pressure and danger, that same energy continued into their modest but homely kitchen in their brownstone as they unlearned that boiling was the only way to prepare food. They wove around each other, hot pans and knives flashing in a dance as intricate as fighting while they spun about the kitchen, preparing dish after dish, including sweet treats for themselves and cat treats for Alpine.

Bucky and Steve were essentially one unit, an extension of the other in every aspect of their lives - except one…

They’d shared their first kiss, a declaration of intent less than a month earlier on the battlefield in the midst of chaos, and Steve had never felt sweeter lips against his. But it wasn't just the kiss that floored him, it was the all-consuming knowledge that Bucky was his, would always be his, that they were made for each other - that's what made it a perfect moment.

Afterwards, when they'd arrived home tired from the week-long operation, 'congratulations' and 'about times' ringing in their ears, they sat on the sofa staring at the other until Steve leant in, cupping Bucky’s cheek and slowly pressed forward. Bucky having the same idea, lurched up and they smacked heads hard enough to see stars. Chuckling with small smiles, they tried again, with Steve accidentally biting Bucky's tongue, and the third was a kiss so awkward and sloppy, it made Steve feel like a thirteen year old practising on the back of his hand again.

Steve wasn’t sure how he'd got it so wrong.

Bucky had laughed it off at the time, asking Steve if he wanted to watch TV, and with nothing left to do, he agreed. For two overly large war-torn men, they fit wonderfully; wrapping limbs around the other, holding tight like they'd never let go again. It was soothing, comfortable - right. And as Steve pressed soft lips to the crown of Bucky's hair while a documentary played in the background, he wondered why their attempt at kissing when alone, without an audience hadn’t worked.

Steve could only put it down to nerves.

Bucky was his best friend after all, he was the only one who remembered and knew Steve, knew everything about him in fact, there were no secrets - except for the almost one hundred year pining between them. The awkwardness had to be because of a change in dynamics, they were now more, they wanted more, and were so nervous and scared to adapt to something new, it had become an issue of self-confidence.

It would get better.

It had to.

The next morning when Bucky left for a briefing, he placed a kiss on the corner of Steve’s mouth, and when Steve jerked his head to the side to capture Bucky's lips, he somehow managed to press his teeth into the soft pink flesh, tasting blood. Bucky pulled back with a huff of laughter and licked his lips to capture the red stain before leaving with a wink and a goodbye. Steve flushed red, the heat on his cheeks burning enough that he jumped up and organised an impromptu run with Sam to escape the memory. The whole time Steve lamented to a cackling Sam, that he'd somehow forgotten how to kiss.

Sam was a dick.

It had officially been three weeks, three full weeks of 'dating' and even though their actual dates were wonderful, full of laughter and fun and exploration, it was when they crawled into bed next to the other that suddenly every kiss, every touch was fraught with danger and peril. And maybe it was because they were both supersoldiers, both familiar and unfamiliar with some of their strengths, they'd overlooked they were still prone to the usual calamities that befell non-serumed folk, they just bounced back quicker.

So when Bucky ground down hard enough it bent Steve's dick practically in two - well, it wasn't pleasant, and took over an hour for the tears to stop streaming, all while he yelled to a panicked Bucky there was no way he was calling Dr Cho over it and that it would heal.

It healed, but Steve winced each time he went to the bathroom for the following two days.

The love bite Steve sucked into Bucky's upper thigh on the way to taste his gorgeous dick for the first time, erupted into a blood blister almost immediately and Bucky instinctually jerked away, kneeing Steve in the temple.

He only saw stars for two minutes, but the mood died in a flurry of apologies while the mark on Bucky's skin disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

By Steve's count, they'd tried a total of ten times to initiate sex, to make each other feel good, and every single time something had happened to thwart their attempts.

Steve wondered if the universe was trying to tell them they were not supposed to get physical. That they were destined to be best friends without any benefits.

But Steve wouldn't give up without a fight.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“You can stop laughing now,” Steve said with a sigh, taking a sip of his espresso while trying to ignore the spluttering of his other best friend.

“Oh I know, but I can’t. You kicked Bucky in the hip so hard it somehow threw his body out of alignment and he was walking with a limp for two days. And not the type of limp you want.” Sam was practically heaving in mirth by that stage.

“Why did I come to you for advice? I'm leaving.”

"No, no don't. I'm glad you came to me. But Barnes? I understand your reaction because I'd kick him so he couldn’t walk for days too - but obviously under different circumstances,” Sam added when Steve scowled at his words.

"I don't get it though," Steve complained with an exaggerated shrug. "We sync so well everywhere else. Christ, we even snuggle in such a natural way, that neither of us have had a real nightmare in a month. We are more than ready for the next step. Sam, you have no idea how much we want to take it - but the minute we try to get… intimate - it falls flat."

Sam took a long sip of his iced coffee, thick cream bobbing over the surface as he tilted the glass up. Steve winced at how sweet it had to taste, but he said nothing, remained quiet, knowing that Sam would have some advice at least.

"Maybe it's the way you say intimate? I'm joking, jeez Steve, don't give me your disappointed face. Look, I think you should set the mood, you know - music, candlelight, silk sheets and no distractions. Maybe some aromatic oils too, do the whole, 'I think you're sexy and I want you' gesture - make it obvious you find him desirable.”

“Aromatic oils?”

Sam smirked and waggled his eyebrows, “for a special massage of course.”

Steve flushed at the thought of having Bucky’s naked skin and hardened muscles under his hands, sliding and slipping as he loosened him up, ready to make Bucky fall apart, make him languid and hazy with want. Sam coughed and Steve realised he was letting his imagination run too wild, especially in front of company.

“You know what? I think I chose wisely for my replacement.” Steve grinned as Sam ducked his head, a pleased look gracing his features. “Thanks, Sam. I’m sure it’s a timing thing, we just need to make it sexy.”

Sam clapped his back, and with a wide toothy grin and a wink, said in a low deep voice, “you’re an overachiever Steve - you’ve got this.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Steve in fact, did not have it.

Maybe his first mistake was to massage Bucky on the sofa, not in their bed. He used too much oil and when Steve raised himself up, eager to flip Bucky over and finally take his hard dick in hand, the vinyl fabric in conjunction with Bucky’s skin was soaked and slippery. Steve found himself sliding and flailing uncontrollably, right off the sofa to smack his face into the coffee table, the mood disappearing in a peal of Bucky’s laughter. Steve couldn't even blame him, it would have looked a sight.  

After a long hot shower where Steve contemplated his choice in friends and their terrible advice, Bucky and he sat on a freshly cleaned sofa and watched Animal Planet while eating Thai. They ended up cuddling under Bucky's weighted blanket, falling asleep entwined, and just before Steve blacked out, he wondered if maybe Sam wasn’t the right choice for Cap after all. His plan stunk.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“You do know I’m not that kind of Doctor, right?” Bruce reiterated for the third time, and Steve shrugged in response.

“I know. But at this stage it’s worth a shot. So Doc, any advice for me?”

Bruce sat back on the lone stool in his lab, hand cupping his chin as he thought. At least Bruce appeared to be more contemplative than Sam had been. “Have you tried to romance him? Take Bucky out for a nice dinner, partake in some Asgardian wine to loosen things up, before dancing, showing him that you're a gentleman - prove to Bucky how special he is to you. In my limited experience, the rest will flow from there with no problems.”

Steve nodded along as Bruce spoke, holding Bucky against his body as they danced across the floor wouldn’t be too different from fighting together, and they were in perfect harmony while out in the field. Bruce’s idea made perfect sense to Steve, had more of a familiar feel from Bucky and his early life, before the war than what Sam’s had. Sam's suggestion centered on the physical between Steve and Bucky, whereas Bruce was suggesting something subtle, emotional.

“You know what Bruce? Thank you, I think it might just work.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

It did not work. 

Halfway through their fifth dance as their bodies started to meld together, barely moving on the dancefloor, holding each other's gaze as they whispered words of desire to each, Steve leant forward, their lips barely touching. And as Steve took in a breath, feeling Bucky’s returning exhale on his lips, the back wall blew out in an explosion, Bucky headbutting Steve in surprise, and suddenly they had Hydra operatives swarming them. Steve, as he took out three hostiles with his shield, wondered if he should talk to Dr Cho about the effects of concussion and if he could suffer them, due to his head seemingly taking the brunt of recent mishaps. 

Bucky and Steve fell into tandem together, their natural ability to fight kicking in, keeping the other safe. It was much more natural than dancing and Steve sighed, knowing romantic nights out might not be the right course of action for them. 

It took three days of intense fighting to take down the Hydra faction, and afterwards they were both too tired to speak more than a sentence, and fell into a deep sleep curled around the other immediately. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Steve ignored Tony's unsolicited advice to take Bucky to a ski chalet and teach him how to toboggan, knowing freezing conditions and a small metal tube wouldn't be the best way to loosen them both up to get frisky. Plus Steve was still trying to work out how Tony even knew Steve had asked other people for advice about sex? Maybe JARVIS was spying again, though the AI had promised Steve he wouldn't.

But what was worse, was Peter Parker, at barely even twenty years of age coming to Steve, red faced and stammering, saying that he thought Steve should take Bucky to laser tag and the arcade to have some old fashioned fun. 

Steve at that point was at his wits end, so he tried Peter's plan. When Steve was confronted with all the bright, colourful and confusing machines, he almost gave up. Actual 'old-fashioned' and Peter's idea of it, were poles apart. Though, Steve found he was really good at Tetris and Bucky excelled at zombie shooting games. But it was when playing laser tag it all fell over, Bucky and Steve getting too competitive, and a tad physical, which ended up with them being kicked out and banned, after having to apologise to a bunch of wide-eyed yet excited fifteen year olds. 

Bucky's exclamations that there wasn't that much blood, fell on the deaf ears of the twenty year old manager who reprimanded them, saying that at their age they should know better.

It did not induce a night of passion afterwards. Although, Bucky purchased a console online and a bunch of zombie games that evening, including a bundle that included Tetris, so it wasn't a complete bust.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“So basically what you’re saying is that nothing has worked? You’ve been tiptoeing around each other for what? Almost two months now?” At Steve’s nod, Nat grinned, crouching down and did a handspring, legs wrapping around his neck, pulling him to the floor. “The way you are with each other, I honestly would have guessed you’d been screwing for years. If I didn't know you better.”

“That’s not helpful. I’m serious. We have a real issue.” Steve looked up from his twisted position directly into her green eyes and sighed, she loosened her legs and Steve ran a hand over his face and stayed on the ground. “What if we’re just not meant to be?”

Nat’s expression softened as much as it ever did, meaning her left eyebrow turned down for less than a second before reasserting itself into a perfectly sardonic position.

“Okay, my advice for what it’s worth, and just note that I’m extremely offended that you didn’t come to me first, I mean Sam - come on. But let it happen naturally, organically. Just like it took you a hundred years to own up to your feelings, wait until it feels right to have sex.”

Steve groaned, and stood up, “I’m not waiting another hundred years, Nat.”

“Jesus, Rogers. Fine. Go see Wanda then.”

“Wanda?”

“Use that big brain of yours, not the small one. She’s a witch, I’m sure she can help you out.”

Steve knew the surprise on his face wasn’t feigned. He’d not actually thought Wanda could do spells or the like, but the more he thought about Nat’s words, the more it appealed. Could some magical interference help them?

“Thanks, Nat - I’ll definitely think about it.”

In the space of him finishing his words and a smile forming - Steve was on his back again, Nat’s thighs wrapped around his neck as she squeezed with intent.

“You’ll see that I was right.”

~*~*~*~*~

That night when Steve tried to let things happen naturally, organically as Nat had suggested, Steve slid a hand up Bucky’s side, light as a feather, only for Bucky to squirm in laughter and throw his head backwards, smashing into Steve’s poor battered nose - which broke. It healed within seconds, but blood spurted out in a gush, coating the back of Bucky’s hair and neck. It took an hour to clean up.

~*~*~*~*~

He went and saw Wanda the next day.

~*~*~*~*~

“Well, I’m one lucky girl, first a visit and latte from James this morning and now you this afternoon with a pastry.” Wanda took a bite of the flaky dessert, one Steve knew was her favourite. “Alright Steve what can I do for you today?”

Steve’s immediate reaction was to ask why Bucky had been there, but knew that the two of them had a strong connection, Wanda helping Bucky through some of the residual trauma with her powers, and then their fast bond over Alpine - Bucky’s terror of a stray cat that took up residence in their apartment. Or took over would be more apt.

“I… err, I need your help with something... delicate.”

Wanda gave Steve the smallest smile, a knowing look in her eyes and Steve lost his train of thought for a moment, not sure he really needed another Avenger to know about his intimacy issue with Bucky. He almost chickened out, but Wanda leaned forward and grasped his forearm.

“It’s okay, Steve - you can tell me, ask me anything.”

Sighing heavily, Steve steeled himself, he was out of options.

“Alright -” Steve laid out plainly what had been happening, the awkwardness, the injuries, the sheer unluckiness they’d suffered each time they’d attempted to move their relationship forwards physically.

“And you came to me for...?”

“Help, I guess,” Steve said and looked at Wanda pleadingly, “Can you? I mean, with a potion or a spell or something of the like?”

Wanda slumped back in her chair, mouth opening to speak, but nothing came out, she remained silent. After a minute, she swallowed audibly then looked up at the roof, and if Steve didn’t know better, he would have thought she was rolling her eyes at him. Yet he knew that wouldn’t be the case, Wanda was polite to him, always had been, they were a team. Friends. Only Nat would take those liberties with him.

“Alright,” Wanda finally spoke and stood up, walking over to her kitchen cupboards, pulling out jars and bottles holding different liquids. And before Steve knew it, he was holding a small glass vial filled with a substance that smelt like vodka, but had rosemary and a slice of orange and a few other items bobbing around inside.

“What’s this?”

“Well you asked for a potion, didn’t you?”

“Really? I actually didn’t think you’d -”

“- Do you want the sex magic or not?”

Steve grasped the tiny bottle in his hand, careful not to crush it in his huge meaty hands.

“I do,” he said quickly and stood, pulling her into a warm hug, which she returned readily.

“Just take half an hour before you want to… well, you know.”

“Thanks, Wanda, you were my last hope.”

And as he walked out  the room, Wanda called out after him, “you’ll be fine Steve. I know this will work for you.”

~*~*~*~*~

It worked. 

Bucky was on his knees, mouth wrapped around Steve’s thick dick, swallowing and licking like his life depended on it. And Steve, well, he couldn’t articulate, could only stare down into those familiar grey-blue eyes that gazed at Steve like he was a conquering god, stare at the way saliva dripped down Bucky’s chin as he drew in as much of Steve’s hardness as possible, Bucky’s plush lips stretched taut until they’d lost most of their colour.

It was the most glorious sight of Steve’s entire life.

He didn’t want to think about Wanda in that moment, but he was eternally grateful to her. Bucky had disappeared into the bathroom about half an hour earlier - leaving enough time for Steve to drink the potion in one go, and before he knew it, almost half an hour to the dot, they launched at the other. For once there were no injuries, awkwardness, or pain - just hungry kisses, curious hands and moaning. A lot of moaning and grinding.

Then Bucky dropped to his knees, yanking impatiently at Steve’s pants until they all but ripped off, and sucked him down in the same breath.

Throwing his head back, Steve looked to the ceiling, fingers tangled in Bucky’s hair as Bucky hummed and gasped around his dick, sucking loudly, slurping and choking at times. But Steve couldn’t keep his eyes away for long. Bucky was too compelling, too perfect.

“God, you have no idea how you look right now do you, on your knees, mouth full of me?” Steve husked and involuntarily pumped his hips a few times. Bucky’s eyelids fluttered shut as he listened to Steve’s words, not complaining about the added pressure. “Born to take me, weren't you, Doll?”

Bucky practically squirmed on the spot, moaning and whimpering and Steve realised through the haze and bliss of what Bucky’s clever tongue was doing to him, that Bucky clearly had a thing for pet names.

“Do you want this large dick inside of you sweetheart? Do you want to sit on it? Take it deep into your body, let you take control and ride me until you come?” Steve should have been taken aback by his words, about where his filthy mind was taking them. But he was running his mouth, not thinking, letting what felt good flow off his tongue. And Bucky - he loved it.

Popping his mouth off the end of Steve’s dick, tongue immediately lathing up and down the shaft so as to always have a point of contact, he moaned loudly, wantonly. “God yes, Stevie - want you to fill me up, stretch me, want to feel you for days after, I want you to own me…”

Steve growled possessively, his fingers tightening in Bucky’s hair, pulling back so Bucky was jerked away from his dick, Bucky whining at the loss. Oh christ - that jar of sex magic needed to be marketed - it was phenominal. Steve had never felt so in control of a situation, so ready for anything, not scared, just willing to make Bucky feel good. “I want that too, baby, want everyone to know you’re mine.”

Yanking Bucky upwards, Steve devoured his mouth in a kiss, completely surprised that the potion had worked so well. Not only were they finally on the same page, they were doing it with no shame, telling each other exactly what they wanted and when, pleasuring with sensations and not overthinking, and the teasing - it was natural, it felt right. And Steve knew he was forever in Wanda's debt for the gift of her magic.

“I want to watch you prepare yourself, gorgeous. Want to see your fingers sliding in and out of your tight hole - a hole I’m going to own from tonight onwards.”

“Jesus, Steve, you’re killin’ me here.”

“Not quite yet, I’m not. Give me an hour and we’ll circle back to that.”

“Don’t speak to me like a rookie learning the ropes.” Bucky grumbled.

Steve smiled, “But aren't you?”

“Jerk.”

“Punk.”

Steve swallowed the rest of his retort when Bucky stripped naked to crawl up on their bed, spinning around to lay amongst the pillows, spreading his legs wide like he couldn’t wait to be railed. And Steve was unable to tear his gaze away from Bucky’s hole, his gorgeous and perfect entrance, one that would be puffy and leaking before the night was out - the superficial damage caused by Steve and no one else. A tight sensation welled in Steve’s gut, lurching when Bucky grabbed the lube, pouring liberally before starting to finger himself.

That was the point where Steve knew he'd made a grave mistake.

He wasn’t going to be able to watch Bucky open himself up, Steve was too wound up, too impatient and also too much of a control freak. He needed to ensure Bucky did a good enough job, knowing his girth alone was more than most people were used to. So when Bucky was two fingers in, sweat beading, eyes never leaving Steve’s face, Steve jerked forward and climbed up on the bed, positioning himself between Bucky’s legs. He lubed up his fingers to test the tightness himself, Bucky’s eyes opening in shock at the probing.

“Steve…” he stammered, “What are you doing?”

“Helping.”

Bucky sighed out a breath, relaxing into the intrusion as Steve pressed a finger in next to Bucky’s, and Steve shut his eyes, groaning; Bucky was so tight and hot, perfectly wrapped around Steve’s finger. Steve knew he was going to lose himself in Bucky’s body, was going to transcend, never be the same again and he couldn’t wait.

Steve ensured Bucky was a writhing panting mess before he even contemplated sliding into his tight heat. No matter how much Bucky asked for it, no matter the pleading, the begging (of which Bucky did so prettily, especially with the beginnings of frustrated tears in his eyes), Steve wanted their first time to be free of pain and injury, and by god was he going to deliver.

When he deemed Bucky ready, who pouted back to declare he was, hours ago, it only confirmed a surly Bucky was absolutely gorgeous to Steve, and Steve pulled him down the bed, spreading Bucky’s legs wide. Bucky sank back, allowing himself to be positioned, holding Steve’s gaze hotly as Steve pressed the tip of his dick against the loosened muscle of Bucky’s ass.

The first testing push felt like Steve was going to split Bucky in two - there was no way he would fit. But Bucky grabbed Steve violently by the back of the head, holding him tight in his superhuman strength.

“Don’t you fucking dare stop - not now.”

“Alright, sweetheart,” Steve said placating, “just don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t.” Bucky replied adamantly, and Steve still wasn’t sure until Bucky husked out, “Trust me.”

And Steve did. He trusted Bucky more than anyone else in the world, the universe, and so he continued to press past the tight muscle and...

Oh.

Oh fuck.

He wasn’t expecting Bucky to feel so good, so tight, so perfect. Steve kept pushing, further and further, almost endlessly until he had to pull out an inch to gain more leverage, and the whole time he did this, the whole time he tested and pressed forward again, Steve watched Bucky’s face, looking for signs of discomfort. He saw none.

Bucky was slack-jawed as he stared into Steve’s eyes in a completely blissful state, and pride welled up inside of Steve, he was making Bucky look like that, giving Bucky what he wanted, desired. Steve and no one else.

It was both heady and compelling.

When Steve could push no further and was fully seated within Bucky’s body, he took a breath, then another, and although his instinct was telling him to thrust, take, pound, he didn’t. He’d promised Bucky something.

Grabbing Bucky’s waist, he spun them quickly; Bucky yelping suddenly at the change in position, and looking a little dazed, he ended up straddling Steve, thighs stretched taut over Steve’s large frame.

“Ride me baby.” Steve said simply, and Bucky melted, falling forward to kiss Steve’s lips passionately. Steve held Bucky close as a tongue snaked into his mouth, lips frantic and hot on his, so Steve jerked up into Bucky’s body, reminding Bucky of what he was supposed to be doing, earning him a gasp directly into his mouth.

Sitting up, Bucky pressed his hands against Steve’s stomach for leverage, and tested his breadth of movement, wiggling side to side before he started to move in earnest. Soon Bucky was bouncing on Steve, pulling up and slamming down, taking the pleasure he wanted for himself, and Steve, he lay back and watched the love of his life take every inch he could, and adored it.

After a while, sweat started to pour down Bucky’s temples, his eyes squeezed shut tightly in concentration as he speared himself again and again on Steve’s hardness, wringing pleasure out of every pore, and Steve knew Bucky was close - could tell by the shortening breaths. Licking his palm, Steve reached forward to grip Bucky’s gorgeously rigid dick as it bobbed freely before him, mesmerizing in its movements.

Bucky snapped his eyes open, capturing Steve in his intense gaze, a pleading spark in them, and what Bucky was asking for, Steve wasn’t sure - so he grasped harder and began to stroke. He was methodical, brutal, unrelatening and soon Bucky was clenching around him as come erupted from his dick, coating Steve’s stomach in sticky stripes, and Steve was desperate to taste. So he did. 

Trailing a finger through the mess while Bucky caught his breath, Steve relished Bucky holding him deep within his body, clenching and twitching around him as Steve slid one wet and come soaked finger between his lips, moaning at the unique and tangy taste. It was pure Bucky. His essence, and Steve was addicted already.

“Oh Buck, I’m going to suck you so good one day. You’re the sweetest thing, aren’t you?”

Bucky nodded his head in return, sated and hazy, his breathing returning to some semblance of control, and with a refractory period only superserum enhanced soldiers experienced, Bucky’s dick started to fill again, not quickly, but enough Steve knew from experience that the sensitivity would have abated enough to touch - to continue.

“My turn,” Steve growled, spinning them back over, crushing Bucky into the bed under his weight.

Steve didn’t wait for a response, just immediately pounded hard into Bucky’s limp, open and languid body. And at odds with the rest of his self, Bucky’s dick hardened against Steve’s stomach with every stroke, but Steve had become lost in the sensations, in how good it felt to be encased in Bucky’s heat, his warmth, of finally being closer than ever before for the first time and he couldn’t think straight.

Grabbing Bucky’s chin in one hand, Steve pressed their mouths together, panting into Bucky’s as he whispered words of love tempered with a stream of filth that had Bucky’s eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Thrusting harder again and putting all his strength behind it, able to without hurting Bucky, Steve went into a frenzy as Bucky writhed and moaned underneath him, nonsense words falling from his throat. Steve held on as long as he could, but it was too much, had taken too long to finally be inside of Bucky, and with a litany of ‘oh god’s’ Steve came deep inside of his lover, his friend, his forever and basked in the moment, knowing it was all thanks to a little potion bottle. 

As he caught his breath, inhaling Bucky’s scent, smiling down and kissing his lips reverently, Bucky looked up at him grey-blue eyes full of wonder and happiness.

Their smiles couldn’t be any larger.

Maybe magic wasn’t so bad after all.

~*~*~*~*~

“Judging by the way they couldn’t keep their hands off each other this morning at the team breakfast, I assume you gave Steve and Bucky some help and advice?” Nat asked Wanda as they sat in a wine bar downtown that night on their weekly catch up.

Wanda smirked, holding her glass up in a cheers to Nat. “Yep, Bucky came to me yesterday morning and Steve in the afternoon. Both seeking the exact same help.”

“And did your ‘sex magic’ work?”

“Of course it did - I used my best Vodka.” Wanda affronted that Nat would even question her, knowing the redhead was really teasing.

“What about the spell you used?”

“Well, I wriggled my nose for theatrics, added a sprig of dried rosemary that was stuck to the back of my fridge, and made my hand glow for a second. Some of my finest acting work I think.”

“Those boys just needed some inner confidence - I knew it would work.”

“Of course you did.”

“Damn straight. Tequila shots here please!”’ Nat yelled to the barman who looked way too eager to assist, even though the bar was packed. Nat left a hefty tip when their drinks landed before them less than a minute later, and picking up the glasses she handed one to Wanda. Wanda knew she was going to regret their night the next day. 

Clinking their glasses, Nat declared, “to sex magic and dumb idiots in love.”

“And to us for being excellent enablers and smarter than the lot of them.”

“I couldn't agree more.”

Wanda woke up the next morning wishing she could infuse potions, if she was able to, then her headache might not be so epic. She hid under the covers for the rest of the day. 

Romanoff was a bad influence.

[maurine07]

So today is fanfic writers’ appreciation day (thank you to @openheartfanfics for reminding us of that) and I just wanted to log in for a bit to show some writers my love because y’all are the backbone of our society. Without you, we would’ve all been miserable. So I’m just going to tag some of the writers that come to mind and while I would love to tag each and every single one of you but I’ll probably forget someone so I’m really sorry for that. You are all super talented and I’m in awe of each one of you beautiful people.

@terrm9 Terr, darling, I could write an entire book about how amazing your writing is and how much I love it. You’re an incredible writer and person. The writing style is so beautiful and unique and simply ethereal and I’m so in love with it. Every single time I read a fic of yours, no matter how many times I did, I always marvel at how one can possess so much talent. There is not one trope that you cannot write. How you write the characters, their emotions, you always know the characters and how they think, they would act so well, it’s insane, how you describe everything, the surroundings, what the person is doing, everything is always so perfect. Your mimi series The Couple & The Others is one of my favorites and it's comforting to me, it makes me feel at home. Cieli di Toscana is also a favorite of mine. I love everything about that fic so much. I also love your ch. 11 rewrite with the prompts "There are people who love you" and "Give me a hug, please". I adore the hurt/comfort in those two. The angst is just ugh- it's so good, way too good and it destroys me. As well as A thousand moons, a thousand waves, goodness that fic is just pure and utter perfection, I have no words to describe it. And How much mystery, this love of mine...wow. Seriously wow, I still haven't recovered from how amazing it was. It's so beautiful, they say they're so soft and tender with each other, it's perfect, so perfect. And of course, your you give it to me anyway series is one of the best things I've ever read and I have reread it so many times to the point where I'm not even sure it's healthy. I love it, I love it, I love it, more than words can say. And your OCs, Chiara, Lina, the Ray family, you always know how to make them feel so real. You are truly so magnificent and I just love you and everything you do<3333

@jamespotterthefirst Bree! God, where do I even start? Everything you do is out of this world. Other than the fact that you're extremely kind and funny, you're so wonderfully talented and I love you. The dynamics between Lilac and Ethan are everything, EVERYTHING I TELL YOU. I love how you include the gang as much as you do and how you write them. And while I absolutely love every single fic you write, For A Long Time Now and Most Beautiful will always have a special place in my heart. And I don't think I have to tell you how much I love Lilac. I adore that woman with my entire heart. She's amazing and I would do anything she asks me to. Thank you for creating her and just got being such an incredible part of this fandom❤

@writer-ish Kat, your writing is so stunning. Like, everything about it is so amazing. The way you write Brooke and Ethan, their banter, Brooke's sass, your smut, just everything is pure perfection. I love everything you write but makai is just something else. I especially love B&E in it for some reason, just them being so in love and soft with each other. And you know how much I love Brooke. I would choose her over Ethan any day. She's just incredible and Ethan should worship her like the goddess she is, period😌

@the-pale-goddess Hilde, my angst and smut Queen, there are no words, absolutely none, to describe how much I love your writing. Ma'am, is there anything you can't do? (Other than not break our heart further, of course. One of these days you're gonna need to pay for my therapy. I cannot count the amount of times I was like: I'm feeling pretty happy today. Let me go to Hilde's masterlist and break my own heart. I actually do that so many times, it's pretty concerning.) I'm so in awe of everything you do, your angst? Unmatched. Your smut? So freaking hot. Your fluff? Makes my heart melt. Running to the Edge of the World and (as much as I shouldn't be admitting this in public but) Cabin Fever are just amazing, AMAZING. Puncture Wound is also one of my favorites of yours, the angst, the longing. God, it's so perfect. Conquest is superior to anything, everything and everyone. And of course, Contaminated. That fic breaks my heart yet I read so often that I almost know it by heart. I love LOVE Ethan and Tiffany's relationship even if I am a bit jealous of Ethan. They're the OTP, period. And um... Can I please have Miss Addams' hand in marriage? Like, you can call me Pietro mf Maximoff because I will take a bullet for her. I may also have some unresolved trauma and mommy issues but I promise, I will not make her wait two years just to commit or run to the Amazon and sleep with a coworker. She's my Virgo Queen and I'm so in love with her. The point is, your writing is perfect and I love it so much❤❤❤

@monsoonblooms12 Manamee, you beautiful soul, we don't deserve you and your mind blowing talent. Everything you write is just beautiful and my mind cannot process how you do it. Your fics, your edits, your moodboards, there is nothing you're not good at. And you're such a wonderful person and it makes me want to cry sometimes. I love you, darling❤❤

@blossomanarchy I read your meet my MC posts (and I will get to reblogging those later. I have them in my drafts. I just don't really have any energy at the moment.) and I love Amelia so much. She's already one of absolute favorite MCs. I truly look forward to your fic (if you ever decide to post it, I will be eagerly waiting for it and I have no doubt it will be magnificent) And your moodboards are absolutely stunning. I could stare at them for hours, hell, even the rest of my life. They're so freaking pretty!!💗💗

@takemyopenheart Avy, you're so freaking talented and I love your writing super much. Luz is amazing and I love her more than words can say. I adore her relationship with Ethan so much. Your fluff is god-tier and your smut is just *chef's kiss* as well as your angst. Yours were some of the first fics I read for OH and I still love them just as much as the first time I read them if not more.💕💕

@mvalentine Mal, goodness, you are a godsend to this fandom. I cannot, for the life of me, find the words to properly describe how freaking amazing your writing is. Lana is a Queen and I'm in love with everything about her. Like, I need her to reject me so I can move on already. I love the way you write L&E. They're such an amazing couple and they have my whole heart (also, ngl, I miss them like crazy). Hold On To Me makes me sob every time I read it and it was heaven a moment ago is one of the most beautiful things I have ever read in my life, the sheer beauty of it, it's poetry. You're incredible, my dear and your writing is so beautiful.<333

@genevievemd Sara, from the minute I read your first fic, I knew you were an incredible writer and I was so right. I love everything about your writing, everything. G&E are couple goals and I love them so much. Your angst kills me every single time. Like, you seriously need to stop hurting me so much, I can't take it anymore. But seriously, you're extremely talented and I love you❤❤

@stygianflood Hiya, I just spent a good five minutes trying to come up with any words to describe how freaking beautiful and otherworldly your writing is and I couldn't find any because it's truly undescribable, in the best way possible. Like the Shoreline and the Sea and Bridge over Troubled Water always bring me an immense amount of comfort. They feel like a warm hug even though they hurt. I've binged your masterlist so many times and I still can't process how you're so talented.❤❤❤

@anntoldst0ries Ann, my love, I don't know how to put into words how much I adore you and your writing. It's freaking poetry. It's so smooth. Like I could be reading one of your fics and I come across a line that is just so utterly beautiful and I'm just like: how?? How can one be so talented and come up with such beautiful lines? Lost in Translation is one of those fics that I cannot process because it's so incredible, it's so unbelievable how you manage to capture Ethan's character and thoughts and emotions so well. Coda is just perfection, girl, your smut is so good. And as much as I love all your fics, Shinrin-Yoku will always be my favorite. I love how you write about Noelle's metal health. It makes her feel so real and I really do appreciate that fic so much. You're incredible and your writing is just so magical and I will forever be so in awe of you.💗💗💗

@gryffindordaughterofathena Dri, god, I have no clue how you do it but you always manage to leave speechless and awestruck by your writing. It's so poetic and beautiful and I love everything about it. The way you write the characters and their emotional will always make me so damn emotional. You're just so brilliant and I love all your work so much.❤❤

@starrystarrytrouble All hail Queen Ruby, our savior from the nightmare that was OH3 canon. I know you're not here these days but I just wanted you to know that I appreciate you and all the work you've put into this fandom so much. You're so so incredibly talented. E&E are god-tier and I love them so much, more than I can put into words. Secret is one of my favorites mainly because I'm a sucker for enemies to lovers but also because I love E&E in that fic so much. Also, Anonymous! That fic is everything, I love it so much. And Eve is just amazing. I love everything you create and I miss you💕💕💕

@writinghereandthere Ana, I know we haven’t interacted before and that I haven’t reblogged any of your fics before but I seriously love your writing so so much. I’ve read and reread your masterlist more times than I could count and every single time, I was left more in awe of you than the last. Your writing style is just so beautiful and so magnetic. Like, if anyone interrupts me while I’m reading one of your fics, they can say bye bye to the world. Your do you fear death? series is just something else. It’s so out of this world. Fourteen Hours is amazing, it was the first fic I read of yours and it made me fall in love with your writing, the first I read it, I immediately loved it so much. I love how you write Mariana and Ethan so much, they’re everything. And I'm so in love with Mariana. God, she's so perfect! And Two Days breaks my heart every time I read it but it’s one of my comfort fics. More Than A Drawer is also a favorite of mine. I love the domesticity of it so much. And Golden! God, that fic! How the hell did you write that?? It’s so fucking brilliant and I don’t have the right words to describe it. Also!! Finer Things is one of the best things I have ever read. I am an absolute whore for Harper Emery and that masterpiece just increased that. It’s so magnificent! You’re just so freaking incredible and I will always wonder how you’re so so talented❤️❤️

I'm pretty sure I forgot some amazingly talented people and I'm so sorry for that, truly. Your fics have always been a source of comfort to me. During some of the worst times in my life, I would always find happiness and comfort in your beautiful creations. Hope all of you are having a great day and I hope you know how truly appreciated you are💕💕💕💕

[inkandpen22]

Beautiful Angel of Darkness (7/?)

Pairing: Spike x Female!Reader 

Warnings: Mild swearing 

Word Count: 1.8k

Part Summary: Y/N is starting to improve and live by Angel’s lifestyle. Then, someone pays her a visit. 

Masterlist

Six months later... 

Who would've thought working at the law firm as one of Angel's team members would be so fulfilling? Granted, it took a moment to get settled... more like a month. There was a withdrawal period, not pretty. Angel sort of locked me away in his basement for a few weeks. After that, I bounced right back and started fresh! Now, I'm Angel's assistant, much better than Harmony. I gave her the boot as soon as I got released from the basement cell. 

I step off the elevator to Wolfman & Hart with Angel's usual blood bag in a cup and my iced coffee. I drink my blood bag on the way here. 

I set everything down at my desk in front of the firm's sign. The normalcy of having a daily routine again is nice. When I was with Spike, I thought normalcy would bore me to death. I guess Angel was right, there is some humanity left in me. 

I knock on Angel's office door, blood cup in hand. When he announces for me to enter, I greet him warmly and immediately get into the day's agenda. 

"Morning Boss, we have a busy day ahead of us!" 

As per usual, he wears a crossed expression as he stands behind his desk shuffling through some papers. 

He sighs in frustration, "Y/N, have you seen the-" 

I place his mock coffee cup in his hand so I can grab the case file from under my arm. He glances between me and the file in amazement. 

"You left it on my desk when you were leaving last night," I explain with a light chuckle. 

"You're a lifesaver," he thanks as he eases down in his chair. 

"It's what I'm here for," I shrug and lean against his desk beside him. 

"Sorry for keeping you here late this week. I'm sure you much rather be home," he apologizes as he reviews the contents of the case. "I just... I don't know how to go about this." 

"Maybe a fresh pair of eyes?" I suggest, reaching for the file. 

Angel hesitates to hand it over. He doesn't like me working directly on cases. He believes I'm not ready for the gruesomeness of them and that the blood may trigger me to regress.

"Angel, I'll be fine!" I assure him confidently. 

Reluctantly, he hands over the papers and I begin to skim the crime scene photographs.  The police are involved, believing it to be a violent murder. However, Angel and the others are pinning it with a series of animal attacks the last few days. They suspect a werewolf. Angel wasn't wrong, these images are rather unsettling, but nothing I can't handle. 

"Based on the slashes on the neck, I would agree with you and say it's not cut wounds. There are no signs of forced entry either," I analyze. 

"But all of the damage..." He debates. 

"It's from the attack. If you were being attacked by a werewolf, you'd toss a lamp and vase at it, wouldn't you?" I reason. "The front door is in perfect condition, except for the blood, of course. I suspect the victim knew their attacker," I determine and hand the file back to Angel. 

He leans back in his chair, deep in thought. Humming, he considers my predictions. "That would certainly narrow down the suspect list." 

"Was she single?" I question. 

He frowns in confusion, "I think so, why?" 

"Check her calendar, see who her latest date was with," I suggest as I rise from my leaning position against his desk. 

"You got all of that from looking at one photo?" Angel remarks in astonishment. 

I glance over my shoulder as I head toward the door. "Told you shouldn't let me help sooner," I wink. 

_____________________________________

At noon sharp, Angel likes his second cup of O Neg. It sounds tedious, knowing exactly when my boss likes his blood. If someone told me months ago that I would be fetching Angel everything he needs, I would've killed them. Ironically, I've never felt never more human than when I'm at Wolfman & Hart. I feel like I have a life of my own, my existence. Before...Before Spike, I belonged to my family. Then, I belonged to Spike. Now, I belong to myself. Granted, Angel watches me like a hawk, but he's easing up. 

Angel and the others hold a team meeting at the same time I'm supposed to deliver his refreshment. More and more lately, Angel lets me sit in on the meeting.  It's usually so that I can act as a scribe while they talk, but I still appreciate the invite. 

Carrying my files, notepad, and Angel's drink, I back into his office door as I'm handless at the moment. Right when the door gives, I immediately announce his dinner plans with a major banker to discuss his Greed Demon issue. "Don't forget tonight, the meeting with Stuart Lawrence! You have to be at his residence in Brentwood at seven o'clock sharp and-" 

I stop dead in my tracks as my eyes flicker toward Angel's desk. Instead of just seeing Angel stressing over some papers, as usual, I see a bleach blonde vampire reading over his shoulder. 

The paper coffee cup falls from my hand and spills on the floor by my feet. The substance coats my left heel, staining it crimson. 

"Y/N..." Spike utters my name with his smooth accent. 

"Oh my God..." I whisper breathlessly in awe. 

Angel flies up from his chair and points to the door. "Y/N, get out of here!" 

"Never took you for the lawyer type," Spike smirks mischievously as he slithers toward me. "Gotta admit though, loving the working woman style." He gestures at my body up and down like I'm a mannequin in a store. 

Behind me, the other members of Angel's team enter for their meeting. 

"Lorne, take Y/N home!" Angel instructs. 

"Right away, Boss," Lorne complies.

"Take one step closer to her green goblin and I'll bite your head off!" Spike threatens sharply. 

"Spike, stop it!" Angel barks. 

"Oh come on, Angel," Spike dismisses as he closes in on me. His fingers comb through the ends of my hair. "It isn't like you to ruin a perfectly good reunion!" 

My body tenses under his touch, much to Spike's dismay. It wasn't long ago that his embrace was the only thing that kept me tied down to Earth. Now, it makes me shutter. 

"You shouldn't be here!" Angel growls as he rushes over to us and yanks Spike away from me. "She's been doing great without you!" 

"Have you forgotten? She was mine before she was yours," Spike chuckles wickedly. 

The English vampire turns to me again and caresses my cheek. His eyes continue to linger in my memories late at night staring at me intensely. 

"Did you really think I was going to let you go?" He mumbles to me and the words make my heartache. 

"Get away from her!" Angel hisses warningly, on the verge of throwing Spike through the top floor window.

Spike ignores Angel and continues to admire me. "Did you miss me, My Love?" 

Yes. 

I shake my head while I slip my hand over his to remove it from my cheek. "You hurt me. I can never forgive you for what you did." 

Spike's face falters immensely. "Y/N... Let me explain! I-" 

"No!" I stand my ground, something I never used to do when we were together. "You deceived me, used me, broke me!" I switch my gaze between Spike and Angel frantically until I find myself overwhelmed. "I... I can't do this... I'm sorry Angel, excuse me." 

Thus, I hurry out the door past my coworkers before anyone can stop me. Both Angel and Spike call for me, but I ignore each of them as I gather my things and disappear onto the elevator. 

________________________

After today's cluster of events, a long shower was much needed. I have no doubt Angel will be visiting me once the workday is over, just to check-in. I can't believe Spike is here in Los Angeles. It all felt like a dream or perhaps a nightmare. How dare he come here after half a year and expect me to act as though nothing happened. 

Immediately after my shower, I go to my kitchen to fix myself a cup of tea. I stick the kettle on the stovetop before I get dressed. At first, living alone startled me, but since then I've grown to prefer it. I like the peace. After long days at the office, time alone and space alone is what I need. 

"Y/N," a voice makes itself known. 

My hand flies up to my chest as I pant. "Spike! Jesus and Mary! What the actual fuck?!" 

"A vampire scared of the dark... how ironic," he teases with a smirk. 

"Get out!" I shout, pointing toward the door. "I'm not even dressed you feen!" I start to march back to my bedroom which makes Spike follow. What part of 'get out' doesn't he understand? 

"Oh come on, Love. It's not like I haven't seen anything before," he insinuates. 

"Get out!" I repeat. 

"No, not until you hear what I have to say!" He insists. 

"You love Buffy! Congrats! Now, go be with her!" I urge him away. 

Abruptly, Spike grabs my forearm and yanks me to a halt. His free hand flies up to my chin and forces me to meet him in the eye. I fight him off, prying at his arms, but nothing works. 

"I never loved her!" He barks at me. "Well... maybe a little once... but that was before I met you! That night I didn't cheat on you! I swear it! I went over to her house to kill her and when I got there she was crying! Her mother has been ill! That's why I couldn't come sooner... plus I... I..." 

"You what?" I growl in disdain. 

"I got a soul for you," he remarks calmly, nearly solemnly. 

I frown, how is that possible? 

"You what?" I question. 

"I went to the desert, got my soul back so I could be like Angel..." He explains. "To be like someone you'd want to be with," he adds. 

He softens his grip on my face. To my surprise, I don't pull away. I stare into his blue eyes with astonishment. How could he get back his soul? Is that why it took him so long to come and find me? For months I wondered if he would ever come... but he never did. When I finally started to get settled and moved on he shows up. Spike's hand falls from my face with a sigh.  

"Forget this. Never mind," he starts to back away. "Have a good life, Y/N." 

I stand frozen, speechless, and unsure what to do as Spike struts away toward the door. Thus again, he has disappeared from my life. 

________________

Masterlist 

Tags:  @currently-obsesed-with-spike @mx-pibbles @shy-ginger-in-the-graveyard

[onceuponaloonatic]

i meant for this to be a little more so i’m sorry but this is the best i can do with my courseload rn it’s a namo drabble in the new misahyo au i hope you enjoy !! 🥺🥺

tw: ptsd, learning disabilities, panic attacks, etc...

Nayeon really wouldn’t say they planned to have Kazumi when they did. It may sound strange, since they obviously had worked very hard to have Kazumi, as they had to go through all the work of finding a doctor and doing the procedure over and over again. But despite all the work that went into having her, Kazumi Hirai-Im was not planned.

A part of her regretted adopting the twins right before they had Kazumi. It wasn’t that she regretted having any of them, and she wouldn’t trade a single one of them for the world, the timing was just not ideal. 

They found the twins through a co-worker of Momo’s. Momo’s coworker’s husband was a social worker, and she was complaining about the twins when he first brought them to her home. She said she was used to him bringing random children home occasionally, but that these two were especially problematic. She talked about how she couldn’t sleep because the girl kept having nightmares and that the boy would always steal food when he thought she wasn’t looking. And apparently, the two were not getting along with her co-worker’s children. Taking the twins in as a favor for Momo’s co-worker was supposed to be a short term thing. It was just a crazy idea Momo had had after a long day at work. She had seen how stressed her coworker was, and ever the people pleaser she had just offered without thinking much. She didn’t even ask Nayeon until after she offered. (In Momo’s defense, Nayeon was teaching a class at the time so it’s not like she could have answered that second, but Nayeon still held it against her.) Nayeon didn’t take much convincing though, once she laid eyes on the twins, she fell in love. Nayeon loved kids, and seeing those two young children completely melted all of her inhibitions. 

They had some issues with the twins at first. Haneul did in fact have pretty violent nightmares, plus getting her to open up was nearly impossible. Jae opened up easier, but he did have some quirks. He stole food and hid it under his bed frequently. One day, Momo found it under his bed when she was trying to clean, and when she tried to address it with him he had a meltdown. Haneul had run over when she heard her brother crying, and tried to be protective over him, physically putting herself between Momo and her brother, glaring at Momo the best she could at her young age . Momo had reassured them both it was okay and she wasn’t mad, and that if they needed more food, they would gladly give it to them. It just needed to be kept in a better place, in case there were ants. That explanation seemed to calm them both down, but it was a testament to how they both still didn’t trust them. 

A few days of taking care of the twins quickly turned to a few weeks, and that was when Momo and Nayeon knew they wanted to keep them forever. Sure they were difficult, but they were also sweet. They had been hurt, and they needed patience and care that the foster system couldn’t provide for them. It wasn’t much later Nayeon found out she was pregnant with Kazumi. 

It was right about when they had talked to the twins about the idea of them staying with them forever. They were both so young, forever was a difficult concept to grasp. But they had agreed that they were nice. Jae said they had good food and Haneul said she “liked their puppy.” They were in the process of officially adopting the two of them and not just fostering them when they found out. Nayeon had only gotten the procedure once after the twins came into their lives. She had only done it since they had already paid for the session, and she was convinced it wasn’t going to work. But it had. And now they were in a difficult situation.

Of course they were happy they were having a baby, but it would make things complicated with the twins. They both knew it would, they knew the twins would feel like they were being replaced and that they didn’t want them, which was so untrue. Nayeon and Momo both wanted both the twins and the new baby so so much.  

When they eventually did tell them, they reacted how they expected. They had tried to phrase it to them like a proposition for them to be a big brother and big sister, and tried to reassure them they still wanted them, but it didn’t work. It ended with a poorly planned attempt to run away by Haneul that ended with her falling down the last two by their front door and breaking her arm. Jae, despite being on board with the run away plan, was so freaked out by Haneul’s crying he instantly ran to them crying. Of course they were mad, but they were more worried about the twins. They took Haneul to the emergency room and Momo stayed with her, holding her tight in her arms as she got a cast for the first time while Nayeon held Jae, who still hadn’t calmed down either. 

After Haneul had a purple cast put on her wrist and they had all gotten some sleep, they talked about it with them. They told them they were worried and that they didn’t want them doing that again. They also talked to them again about how even if they were going to have a baby, they still wanted both of them. It was the first night they told the twins they loved them. 

After that they were still a little skittish about baby things, but they seemed to open up to them a lot more. Especially Haneul. She seemed a lot more comfortable with them after that incident. Her nightmares even started to slow down a bit. 

When the two met Kazumi for the first time, they both kind of fell in love with her. They both giggled about how small she was and how silly she looked. They loved calling her Zumi and helping out with them as much as they could. They were just about as helpful as young children could be, but Nayeon and Momo both thought it was so cute. It was a nice change, and they could see they were both kind of coming around and accepting Kazumi as their little sister. 

That time right after Kazumi was born was hard. Between waking up for Kazumi and for the twins' nightmares, they barely got any sleep. And trying to keep up with the twins' newfound energy now that they were more comfortable with them and Kazumi was hard. But they managed, even if sometimes it seemed like they wouldn’t. They even enjoyed it. They loved their family so much. Even if Kazumi’s timing wasn’t great they were happy to have her, and it seemed the twins felt the same.

Things never really got easier. They just, changed as the kids got older. Hanuel’s nightmares got better, but she started showing clearer signs of PTSD and anxiety. Jae was having trouble keeping up in school and was struggling with some of the same PTSD as Haneul. Kazumi had issues with seperation anxiety. It started when she was a baby, but it got worse when she started school. It wasn’t just towards Nayeon and Momo either. She directed it towards both her brother and her sister as well. The first night Jae had a sleepover, Kazumi had insisted on saying up until he got back. Of course, she ended up falling asleep in Momo and Nayeon’s bed, but she had pushed herself to stay up later than usual. Haneul didn’t like being separated from their family too much either, so they guessed it had rubbed off on Kazumi too. Haneul specifically hated being separated from Jae. They had been together forever, she absolutely hated being separated from him. That first night he had a sleepover and after Kazumi fell asleep, Haneul had a meltdown in their kitchen. It took almost an hour of gently holding her and telling her Jae was fine for her to calm down. Once she was calm, she fell asleep, but getting her there had been difficult. Jae always seemed the most okay with separation. He was a little more trusting than Haneul, and he wasn’t as attached to people as Kazumi. He still had issues, specifically in school and with anger, but he was better than his sisters in the making friends department. 

Once all the kids were in elementary school, Momo went back to work full time and things did feel a little smoother. Not easier, just smoother. They both had a pretty good idea of what they were doing and even if there were times they felt overwhelmed, it felt easier to deal with. Over time, things just got more and more polished to the point they were like a well oiled machine. Of course there were times things hit a snag. 

The first major snag they hit was learning to manage Jae’s dyslexia. He had been diagnosed in first grade, but at first his teachers had said he had a mild case and would be fine with little intervention. But by third grade he started hating school, refusing to go no matter what Nayeon and Momo promised. After some probing they found out he was just struggling a lot in school at the time, and they took him to a specialist that helped lay out a learning plan that could work with him. They had always known Jae was really smart, but once he started getting the care he needed his life improved a lot. He was angry less often and he started to like school more and more. 

The next came with Haneul. While she had never struggled in school, making friends was never something she was good at. She was shy, and didn’t really seem to get along with her classmates very well when they tried to force her to open up. She got along with her brother and sister, and she got along with Emi, Jeongho, and Hansol pretty well, but she really struggled getting along with anyone else. They thought she would be fine with that, but when Jae started to make his own friends and have his own life things changed. She seemed more withdrawn and she even started taking it out on Momo and Nayeon. It felt like all the progress they had made towards their relationship was cast aside as Hanuel lashed out at them for weeks. It took a couple group therapy sessions with both of them and Haneul for them to figure it out, but once they did everything became really clear. Haneul ended up having to work with another therapist for a while, one who specialized in social skills, but it ended up working out for her. She was only able to make a few friends, but it did wonders to improve her mood and overall happiness. 

Kazumi was always the easy kid. Sure, she was the youngest and so she was more needy at times than her older siblings but overall she didn’t really require as much from her parents as her siblings. She always got okay grades and her social skills were arguably the best in the family. The only issue they ran into with Kazumi was her separation issues, but other than that she really was an easy kid. She even helped her parents out with her siblings, becoming pretty in tune with both of them emotionally from a young age and understanding them even better than their parents sometimes. As they got older, the kids mellowed out. By the age of fourteen, Jae didn’t even go to therapy anymore. Of course, they still recommended they keep an eye on him, but he was in a good place emotionally and was happy in his life. Haneul wasn’t quite ready for that yet, so much to her own chagrin she stayed in it. 

“I don’t understand why Jae’s allowed to stop and I’m not.” Haneul was the only one in the car with Momo. She was usually the one to take Haneul to her therapy appointments as Nayeon usually had a class around that time, so she had gotten used to it over the years. When she was little Momo had a little tradition of taking her to get ice cream after each appointment. “We’ve talked about this kiddo, it’s just until both your therapist and you feel comfortable stopping.” Momo informed, turning the car on. She had gotten used to waiting for appointments like this. Nayeon usually had work, so she was the one who usually took care of little appointments like this. 

“I feel comfortable.” Haneul pouted. “Your therapist doesn’t think it’s a great idea sweetie.” Momo sighed. “I know you are frustrated,  but really, it’s okay. Being in therapy is okay. You are doing well, and we are so proud of you.” “Fine.” Haneul pouted. 

“Ha-chan I can tell you are frustrated but this is what’s best for you.” Momo sighed. “Cheer up. You can get toppings on your ice cream if you want?” “Can I get M&Ms?” Haneul asked. “Yeah, whatever you want. Just don’t tell your brother and sister.” Momo rubbed one of Haneul’s arms. “Fine.” Haneul sighed again uncurling herself from the ball she had curled up in. Momo couldn’t help but smile. Haneul had grown up so fast. She remembers when she first came to stay with them. She was so tiny back then, so frail and so fragile. She used to cry when anyone would raise their voice at her. She used to get upset by loud noises. When things fell or when the tv made a loud noise, she would always freak out. She was so much better now. And she had put in so much work for them to get this far, and Momo was just so incredibly proud of her for getting this far. 

“Hey mama?” “Hm?”  Momo hummed as she began driving. “Why-why did you and Mom decide to take Jae and I in?” Haneul asked, her eyes nervously darting around. “I mean- you never really told us why. And Zumi and I were talking about this the other day and I realized I couldn’t really answer the question. I know you guys were still going through the whole science procedure thing, that's why Zumi was born, but why did you decide to take us in while you are doing that?” Haneul asked. “Well… I guess you are old enough to talk about it.” Momo nodded. “Well… you know my coworker Miss Kim? Her husband is your social worker.” “Yeah- I guess I remember her.” Haneul shrugged. “Yeah, anyway she was the first to take you two in. But it wasn’t really working out. You weren’t getting along with her kids, so she asked me to take you two in for a few days. I didn’t even ask your mom before I said yes. I knew she was struggling and I just- you guys just needed a place to stay. When I told your mom she was a bit mad, but she agreed. Once we had you two, it just-it felt right. We loved having you two- we loved you two.” Momo explained. “Kazumi did have interesting timing, but it worked itself out in the end. We love all three of you and really wanted to have all of you.” 

“So you just- you just decided you wanted to keep us?” “It less of we decided it- we just, it felt right. We couldn’t imagine letting the two of you go, even when we found out about Zumi.” Momo explained. “Well… Thank you.” “Of course kiddo.” Momo giggled. “We love you so much Ha-chan, you and your siblings.” “Yeah yeah.” Haneul giggled. “I know and...” “And?” “And I love you too.” Momo smiled at Haneul. She really meant it. She loved them more than anything in the entire world.

[taeken-my-heart]

Moirai Chapter 17 (Finale)

Summary: On your 18th birthday a name appears on your wrist. The name of your soulmate. It’s a momentous day that everyone looks forward to, but you’ve always brushed aside; refusing to believe in a fickle mistress called destiny. But what happens when on the morning of your 18th birthday you wake to find the name of your mortal enemy? Jeon Jungkook.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Genre: Soulmates au/ Enemies to lovers au. Angst, fluff, bickering, romance, eventual smut.

Word Count: 4488

**

Early morning light filtered through the curtains at your window and you watched as the evening shadows across your ceiling slowly disappeared. You’d barely slept last night, your mind running back and forth between what you should do. Letting go of a 12-year grudge would honestly be good for you…but you just didn’t know how.

You pushed your blankets away, sitting up on the side of your bed and staring down at your toes. The pedicure you’d gotten with Lizzy for your sister’s wedding was still in perfect condition and you wiggled your toes as distraction for your mind. 

You had a team meeting this morning at 6am sharp so you really needed to get ready quickly. You’d already been lying in bed 5 minutes after your alarm went off.

Heart clenched with dread, you began quickly preparing for your day, showering, dressing, and grabbing a bagel on the way out the door. Traffic was light this early in the morning and the sun had only just begun to rise. Hues of yellow and orange cast a somber calm in the quiet of your car.

A moment to relax before tackling what was sure to be a nightmare of a day. You spotted Jungkook nearly right away as you stepped into the conference room, but once his eyes caught yours, he shifted quickly, gaze trained on the ground and you watched with growing anxiety as his shoulders sagged.

In all honesty, you’d expected him to come after you right away. To hound you until you cried and begged for him to leave you alone, but this…this was so much worse. Like the leaves on an overwatered plant, he drooped and you could hardly maintain your countenance.

It had been an hour since that meeting and you felt like a zombie, making early morning rounds as you talked with patients about their upcoming procedures and went through paperwork. You knew this wouldn’t last forever; eventually he’d perk up enough to try one more time. That’s just who he was; a fixer. You both dreaded and wanted to see him, to talk to him.

What was there to even say, though? How do you start a long overdue conversation? How do you take down a wall you didn’t realize you’d even constructed?

Well, that wasn’t completely true. You’d known you’d put a wall up around your heart in an effort to protect yourself from him, you just hadn’t realized you’d made it so tall. You weren’t even sure you wanted to take it down yet.

Lizzy greeted you in the hallway, eyes wide and curious as you made your way closer. “Have you talked to him?” She queried gently and pursed her lips as you shook your head no. “Well, you really should at some point, even if it’s to tell him you don’t want to move forward. It would be good for the both of you to have some closure.”

“I know, Liz.” You sighed, “I just haven’t figured out what I want from him yet, whether I want to give him another chance or not. My heart says yes but my brain is telling me I’m a fool.”

Lizzy smiled soft, squeezing your arm. “Remember, it’s been a long time. You’ve both changed. You’re not an idiot for thinking maybe one more try wouldn’t hurt. If he hurt you again, though, I’d butcher him alive.”

You chuckled, careful to keep your volume down. The hallway was crowded today as you stood beside the nurse’s station. Mostly staff loitering outside of patient rooms, talking to one another about the next step in their patient plans.

“Hey, I’ve gotta go check on room 214. Wait here for me, will you?”

“Sure,” you nodded, “I don’t have much to do right this moment anyway.”

Lizzy walked a little further down the hallway, stepping into a room on the left and disappearing. “Hey, Salome, can you grab me Mr. Whittackers chart? I’ve got his surgery in a few hours.”

“Sure.” She smiled, standing and walking to the back wall, searching through the alphabetized manila folders.

“Y/N.” Someone said from behind you and your stomach lurched in discomfort.

Turning around, Jungkook stood looking more handsome than he had any right to. His under eyes were dark from what you presumed was lack of sleep and he’d forgotten to shave this morning. His gaze was paralyzing. “Can we talk?” He asked gently.

Not yet. Not here. You weren’t ready to be anything but angry right now. “No, we can’t.”

“Just for a moment?” He questioned again, moving to your side as you turned to look away from him. “I just want to-”

“No, Jungkook!” You insisted, glaring at him. “I don’t want to talk to you right now. I’m too angry to talk to you nicely.”

Jungkook paused, Adams apple bobbing as he swallowed. “I just-”

“I told you, it was all a mistake, I was being rash and stupid. Don’t bring it up anymore, it’s over.” You growled.

He swallowed hard, fingers going to rest on the desk beside you and you quickly spun away, walking in the direction Lizzy had headed only moments before.

“Please, Y/N, I just want to talk, it doesn’t have to be right now but I just want to explain. We could talk later tonight or in a few days, even in a week if that works better.” Jungkook pleaded, trailing after you and you rounded on him, face hot with emotion.

“You’re so selfish!” You shouted and you could hear the hallway’s noise soften to non-existent but it did nothing to dampen your rage. “Everything is always about you, isn’t it, Jungkook? Even after I’ve told you that I don’t want to talk about it you just. keep. picking! How many times do I have to tell you to back off? Your happily ever after doesn’t exist with me so stop hounding me!”

Jungkook’s face fell, eyes slowly filling with tears. Your heart ached at the sight but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing your regret. Salome stood looking stunned, medical chart extended awkwardly in her hand before her arm went limp and she stared down at the desk as though she weren’t witnessing your absolute train wreck of a meltdown.

You chanced a glance around you, spotting Lizzy standing just outside the doorway of 214, eyes heavy like a scolded puppy, and you stopped your rant to stare back at her. She was gripping the doorway beside her, shoulders sagging as she caught your eye. “This is not the place.” She whispered.

Your other coworkers stood around staring, attempting to shield patients from viewing the absolute cataclysm that was your life right now and you felt your anger fizzle like air in an untied balloon. The hairs at the back of your neck prickled and you turned slowly to find the hospitals president standing behind Jungkook, arms folded over his chest and looking like a bull about to be unleashed in a China shop.

“I want to see both of you in my office.” He looked around the hallway, the curious gazes of employees his audience. “Now.”

You swallowed down your cry of panic, smoothing your hand down one side of your scrubs and following the president towards his office, Jungkook behind you like a shadow. The hair on the back of your neck pricked once more from his proximity.

Namjoon directed the two of you into the seats facing his desk as he closed the door to his office. You’d never been in here before, but the deep mahogany of the desk and bookcases made everything feel so much more serious.

The president rounded his table, sitting calm in the cushions of his burgundy wingback. He eyed the two of you quietly, fingers drumming against the grain of his desk and you resisted the urge to squirm.

“Would one of you mind explaining to me why you’re turning my hallways into your own personal theater?” He finally asked. His voice was gentle but you could hear the steel in his tone.

“I apologize, sir,” Jungkook spoke first, “It’s my fault. I was just trying to have a private discussion with Y/N, but I should have waited until we were off the premises. This is not the place for that sort of conversation.”

“Then please explain to me why you didn’t wait.” Jungkook stayed silent and Namjoon sighed, removing the glasses from the bridge of his nose and tossing them idly onto his table. “Jungkook, you’re a first-year resident so it goes without saying that you’re still new here and to our procedures, but knowing the caliber of your school records, I find myself rather surprised. Is this something that’s going to be an issue? Do I need to transfer you?”

“No!” You interjected suddenly and both men turned to survey you. “I apologize for my outburst, sir, I just don’t think a transfer is necessary. Both Jungkook and I are responsible and I don’t think it’s fair to punish him for something we just need to discuss.”

“Then do so.” He replied; stern. “You’ve been with us a year now, Y/N, you should know better than to create a scene like that in the hallways of a professional environment. I’m disappointed. I’m giving you both three days suspension starting immediately. I expect you to use this time wisely.”

You nodded; numb, before standing from your seat and walking to the door with Jungkook in tow. The hall was empty when the two of you walked carefully from the office, closing the door behind you. Jungkook stood, fingers still lingering on the door handle as you pulled at the bottom of your shirt.

You’d never been reprimanded at work in your life. Shame turned your face hot and you just barely resisted the urge to cry.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.” Jungkook murmured. You couldn’t even look at him. Part of you was still mad, but another part of you knew this was also your fault. Locking feelings like this away only ever did damage. You couldn’t heal if you couldn’t just talk this out.

“Save it for later.” You said, rounding your shoulders. “We’re going to resolve this. Be at my apartment in an hour.”

“I don’t know your new address!” He said as you began to walk away.

“I’ll text it to you.” You called over your shoulder. You were angry and you needed the drive home to cry bitterly and get it out of your system before he got to your place. You wanted a drink badly, but you needed to be completely sober for something like this. Drinks were what got you into this mess in the first place.

One ugly cry and a short, hot shower later, you were pulling on a pair of grey sweatpants and a soft white sweater. You had just barely enough time to make some tea before Jungkook arrived.

A soft knock on the door roused your attention and you called out for him to come in. Jungkook stepped in carefully as you were pouring hot water into a mug and closed the door softly behind him.

“Cup of tea?” You asked, spooning some of the honey and lemon mixture into your hot water as you waited for his reply.

“What kind?” He asked carefully and you kept your eyes fixated on the swirling water in your cup as distraction from the shaky diction of his voice.

“The kind your mom would always give us when we were kids.”

Jungkook paused at the kitchen door, shoving his hands into the pockets of is jeans and leaning against the door frame. “Yes please.” He murmured.

“You can go wait in the living room.” You motioned over your shoulder before reaching for a second mug in the cupboard and preparing his drink.

You made your way in to the living room where he sat, looking small and unsure, and your heart lurched into your throat. You weren’t even sure where to begin.

You joined him on the couch, a space between you, and placed the mugs on the coffee table. Fingers twisted together, anticipation running high as you stared at the shag rug peeking between your toes. You’d thought about having this conversation many times before in the past but never imagined it would actually happen and now you didn’t know how to break the tension.

Jungkook sighed, leaning his head back against the couch and you looked over at him, watching the Adam’s apple in his throat jump. “Can I start?” He asked softly.

“Ok.” You murmured.

Silence descended for what felt too long to be reasonable but you knew he was gathering his thoughts. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I can’t even begin to convey how sorry I am for just everything. This whole mess is all my fault, starting from day one. I never…I never knew that life would turn out this way.” He sat up, bending forward and grabbing his face in his hands.

“When we were kids, I was so stupid. I wish I could say things would be different if I’d had the perspective I do now, but 10-year-old Jungkook was an idiot. Turns out 30-year-old Jungkook is also an idiot.”

The room felt stuffy with heat and you realized belatedly that you’d forgotten to turn on the air conditioning when you’d gotten home earlier. Jungkook looked damp in his t-shirt and you certainly felt a little wet in your sweater, but you wanted to hear what he had to say too badly to stand up now.

“When we were younger, I started to resent you because our moms always forced us to play together and I just wanted to play with my other friends. Eventually that resentment faded because I felt inexplicably drawn to you. I didn’t know how to get closer and I was confused about why I’d even want to so I just tried to interact in the ways I knew how…which were stupid ways, but we’ve established how dumb I am already. Anyway, none of it was your fault, I just didn’t know how to communicate what I was thinking or feeling.”

He sighed, fingers linking together. “In college it really sunk in how stupid I’d been and I knew that the universe would throw us back together at some point so I decided I was going to show you how I’d changed and how much I regret that stupid decision I made, but I guess I still suck, huh? I’m so sorry, I never meant to try and force you to listen to me or have a conversation with me. Turns out I’m still selfish and don’t have a clue what I’m doing.”

“Jungkook,” you scoffed, “how can you expect me to believe you’ve changed when you do this kind of thing? I told you I didn’t want to talk but you still pushed it.”

“That’s true,” he admitted, “and I’m sorry, but this isn’t just black and white anymore and it doesn’t just involve you.” You wanted to argue, but it was true. This relationship was built around the two of you and if you wanted to heal you both needed to say your piece. “Y/N, I was stupid, seriously stupid, but I was eighteen and I was terrified. Try to put yourself in my shoes. I’d believed in soulmates my entire life and then suddenly I turn 18 and find out that not only does my soulmate hate the entire institution of soulmates, but she also hates me. Now I’m supposed to be everything she’s ever wanted in life? That’s so much pressure. I always thought I’d have more time to figure out who I was before meeting the person I was destined to be with, but turns out I’d known her my whole life.”

“Why couldn’t you have communicated that to me?” You frowned, “We could have talked about things.”

Jungkook huffed a laughed, scrubbing a hand down his face, “Come on, don’t act like you were some pro at communication back then. We were teenagers who had no clue what we were doing. This was a huge decision. We were practically kids and being told to, what, start a life together? You can’t genuinely tell me that you would have been happy with me switching gears, pursuing you, and then just getting married young and start popping out babies.”

The idea made you want to shiver. One night with him had already changed so many things. You could only imagine marrying him…and having children with him. The thought made your heart soft and you looked up at him, nodding, “No, you’re right, that would have been way too intimidating, but it would have been nice to have that choice, Jungkook. You didn’t give that to me, you just took it away and assumed you knew my answer. I would have given it a shot, you know?”

“Really?” Jungkook frowned, eyebrow raised. “You would have really given it a chance?”

“Yes!” You insisted, watching the doubt on his face morph, “I really would have. I was so upset with you, but I really genuinely would have tried if you would have. It’s true I never liked the idea of soulmates…but you were different, somehow.”

“Well how could you expect me to know that?” He cried, exasperated, “You told me the universe messed up and there’s no way I could have ever made you happy when all I’d ever done was make you miserable. Do you have any idea how much those words have haunted me? Just a reminder to me that what I was doing was right; I had failed before I could ever even try.”

The look on his face hurt. Eyes shining, lips pinched together in a frown as his shoulders sagged. “That’s not what I meant, though. I was just upset.” You mumbled.

“I’m not a mind reader, Y/N.” Jungkook replied softly, “I’m just a big, dumb, idiot who is still trying to figure out what I’m doing. What would you have done if it had been your birthday first? You can’t honestly in good faith tell me you would have pursued me.”

“No, you’re right. I would have been horrified at first.” You admitted, picking at your finger nail.  

He sighed, leaning forward on his elbows, but his eyes focused in on you. He was mesmerizing. “I messed up, I’m sorry. But you weren’t the only one hurting, you know? I suffered all 12 years we were apart, always hearing your words repeated in my head; a constant reminder of what a failure I was. I couldn’t do the one thing the universe had predestined me to do. If I can’t fill fate’s demands, what can I do? I made a lot of bad decisions; I’m not denying it. But I wasn’t trying to hurt you. All I’ve wanted the last 12 years is one more chance to be your friend. I want to prove that I’m not that same guy anymore, I’m not running away from this.”

“What do you want out of this? Marriage? Children?” You asked, eyebrows rising and he flushed but shook his head.

“I’m not thinking about that right now,” he replied adamantly. “All I’m thinking about is you and me right now. One day at a time.” He paused to gauge your reaction before taking a deep breath and plowing on. “Did you know I was outside your window that night?”

You frowned; eyebrows knit together as you paused. “What night?”

“The day you stayed home from school after we’d had our fight. You didn’t come to school and I was worried about you. I stood outside your house for an embarrassingly long-time throwing pebbles at your window, but you never came.” He looked embarrassed and you felt like the floor had fallen out from under you.

Stomach rolling uncomfortably as bile rose in your throat. He’d been outside your house? Nothing could have prepared you.

You were floored.

“What?” A whisper.

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, “I had wanted to apologize and explain what was on my mind, why I was doing what I was doing…but you never came to the window. Eventually, I realized I was being really selfish and decided to give you the space you wanted. I guess I’m still selfish, huh?”

You could barely process what he was saying, it was all so much…too much. Like a caged butterfly, your heart fluttered uncontrollably in your chest.

“A little,” you conceded, “but so am I.” You paused again to think, lips rubbing together as you observed the wicker flower pot beside your couch. So much information. “Do you really think it’s possible to be as happy as everyone says? I don’t like the idea of not being complete without a soulmate.”

“I’m not meant to complete you. I’m meant to compliment you; it’s different. As for happiness…yeah, I do think it’s possible.” He replied gently.

“I wish I could have the type of blind optimism you seem to have. I’m a mess, Jungkook, and I haven’t figured out how to change that yet. I wish I was better at this. I’m really sorry.”

Jungkook shook his head, “You have nothing to apologize for; we’re both kind of a mess right now.”

You chuckled, dry and humorless as you stared over at the entertainment center across the room. “I appreciate the sentiment, but it’s not true. I absolutely have things to apologize for. I was not an innocent bystander in our history, even if I wish I could say that I was. I’m sure it wasn’t easy to always hear me disparage soulmates and then find out that I was the name on your wrist. You must have felt really hopeless. I should have just communicated with you what I was thinking instead of just cutting you out of my life. It came from a place of pain, but you had no real reason to think that not wanting to be with me would hurt me.”

“I’m sorry about today, too.” Jungkook mumbled, frowning, “I’m sorry about our whole lives, really. I shouldn’t have pushed you to have a conversation you weren’t ready to have. I felt like we’d just barely tapped into something amazing and I wanted so desperately to see where we could take it; I just thought you were scared and that if we talked…that maybe you’d see that I’m trying to be better. It wasn’t the right approach, though. I was just terrified to lose you all over again. It’s not a good excuse.”

“No, you definitely shouldn’t have kept pushing, but I do understand why you did. I’m sorry about yelling at you in the hallway. That was completely unprofessional of me, I was stressed and just lost it. I feel really embarrassed about my reaction.”

He looked like he wanted to refuse your apology again, but you sent him a look and he paused. “I’m sorry about, you know, the last time we were… together.”

Your mind flashed back to his bedroom, waking up wrapped in his arms and you felt that familiar lasso, tied tightly around your heart, begging you to just move forward with this.

“We were both there,” you whispered, shaking your head, “it’s not like you pushed me to do anything I didn’t want to do.”

“Did you-” He paused, hesitant, unsure of whether he should pursue his question but you waited patiently for him to continue. “Did you feel the connection?” He asked; timid.

The connection? The tie between you that latched so hard you’d felt like you couldn’t breathe when you were away from him? Yes, you’d felt it. You still felt it, even now. Together, but not really. You wondered what would happen if you just let your heart have its way.

“Yes,” you admitted, “I feel it.”

His eyes were bright and beautiful and you could see all the words he wanted so badly to say, but he held his tongue, nodding instead. “I understand if you never want to see me again.” He said, picking at his fingernail, “I can apply for a transfer at work, if that’s something that would make you happy. I just want you to be happy.”

“I never said I wanted you to transfer.” You insisted and he watched you hesitantly as you stared out towards the balcony window. It was early afternoon now and you’d be hungry soon. Maybe he was hungry too. “I don’t want to be hurt again, Jungkook.” You admitted and you could already feel the fire licking at your throat as you swallowed down tears.

“I won’t hurt you this time,” he promised before backtracking, “if this is a “time,” I mean.”

You smiled, turning away from him and concentrating on your heart, thrumming steady in your chest. You felt good; calm even. Even if he ended up hurting you again, you needed to know; needed to know what it could be like to fall in love with him, to be with your soulmate; someone who was made to compliment you. You wanted to know.

“This is a “time.”” You nodded, turning to look back at him, feeling shy and a little embarrassed.

“Are you sure?” He murmured and you nodded.

You were sure.

“Things aren’t going to be what you want them to be for a while because, honestly, I don’t trust you. I want to, though. I want you to prove that this time is real, that I’m not being stupid for giving you another chance. Only one, Jungkook. If you mess this up, I won’t be this stupid again, I swear.”

“I don’t have any expectations.” Jungkook shook his head. He looked like he wanted to leap out of his seat and hold you, but you were grateful he refrained. “I will do my best to not mess this up. I need your help, though. We need to have open communication because I’m an idiot and if I can do something wrong, I will. I don’t want to ruin this.”

You couldn’t help your laugh then, nodding. “How about we help each other?”

He smiled. “Yes please.”

The room went silent as you both stared at one another, a quiet sort of acceptance of where things were right now; of the potential for so much more. “What now?” Jungkook whispered and you pondered that question carefully.

“Well, now I’m hungry…so how about we order some dinner and just talk?”

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him smile like that; like happiness was made for just the two of you in this little bubble of your apartment. It was like an explosion in your veins, wild and reckless, and made you feel like maybe fate did know what she was doing when she put the two of you together.

Jungkook grinned, wide and toothy and your heart raced. “Perfect.”

**

Oh my gosh! I can’t believe it’s over. This is seriously so bittersweet for me, I love this story so, so much. Never fear, there will be an epilogue. I’m not gonna let you go through all that pain and then give you no reward, haha. 

Thank you so, so much for sticking it out and being here with me. This is a story that is very close to my heart and I’m so grateful for everyone who read it and loved it with me! <3

Stay tuned for an epilogue!

Chapter 16

Epilogue

Copyright © 2018 by Taeken-My-Heart. All rights reserved.