#this page took over 40 hours. this is why I never get anything done

[gmaybe666]

<?> YOU CAN HAVE MY ISOLATION

YOU CAN HAVE THE HATE THAT IT BRINGS

YOU CAN HAVE MY ABSENCE OF FAITH

YOU CAN HAVE MY EVERYTHING <?>

ACROBAT PAGE 2

[cjsinkythoughts]

Right From Left

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 3085

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Zemo being a punk, Bucky getting a little scary, some feelings, Sam being his fantastic, amazing, caring for everyone self

A/N: Here it is! At long last! I’ve been waiting for this episode and it was…holy fuck. I barely have words. And I can’t start or else I’ll be ranting for pages. Anyways, I know this Part is a little on the shorter side - not by much, but it still is - and it doesn’t even cover half the episode, but I’ve had a long day and I’m tired, so I’m going to sleep. I wanted to stop before Walker entered the picture too, because then I’m just gonna get more riled up and I’m working later. I’ll probably have another part out today, and then I’ll finish it tomorrow. Unless I can finish it today. I’ll try, but no promises.

Feel free to rant to me about the episode or the show, too, guys! My friends and I have been going back and forth about it for the past few hours. I’d love to hear your thoughts! I think that’s all for now.

As always, this isn’t beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Thank you for reading, be kind to yourself and others, enjoy this part and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

!SPOILERS BELOW CUT!

You were avoiding him.

When you first got to Latvia, he had pulled you aside, eyes wide and pleading. “Doll, listen-”

“I really don’t think right now is the time to have the discussion we’re about to have.” Shaking your head, you avoided his gaze, your stomach twisting into knots. It was too much for you to handle; you couldn’t focus on the mission at hand and try to unravel the emotions that were making your gut flip like a gymnast. There were too many thoughts in your head, and you needed a clear mind.

“But-”

“Once this is all done, and our lives aren’t in danger. Once we’re back home, then we can talk, okay? Just…please. Not here. Not now.”

And he dropped it. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk about it. You just couldn’t. You had always been a ‘leave your baggage at the door’ type of person. Don’t mix work with personal. Not like you had much “personal” anyways when you first decided that was how it should be. And then your coworkers became family and your motto got a lot harder to follow. But you still followed it. And you would continue to follow it.

But that made you start avoiding him. Whether you meant to or not, everyone noticed, but no one said anything. Sam shot you a look when you didn’t offer to go with Bucky when he had to check something out. Zemo raised an eyebrow when he came back and, instead of immediately questioning him, you sat still on the couch, eyes glancing up briefly, before going back to playing with the strings of your hoodie.

You were paying attention to their conversation, especially when Karli Morgenthau was brought up, you just didn’t join in. Not even when Zemo mentioned the Avengers, eyeing you to see your reaction.

Honestly, you were tired, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Your shoulder hurt, your brain couldn’t process what the guys were talking about, and your heart couldn’t take any more hits.

It was something you’d been thinking about…you just thought it’d come after this mission.

“She will not stop. She will escalate until you kill her…or she kills you.”

“Maybe you’re wrong Zemo. The Serum never corrupted Steve.”

For the first time since he first walked in, your eyes met Bucky’s. “Touche.” Zemo pointed at Bucky with a pastry around his finger. “But there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?”

But you couldn’t wait until after this mission. Not when he was so connected to it. “I think I’m gonna go home.” You blurted out before Zemo and Bucky could argue further, Bucky slumping down onto the opposite side of the couch.

The moment the words left your lips, Sam and Bucky shot up, staring at you in disbelief.

“Wait, hold up. What? Now? We’re so close-”

“Why? Is it your arm? Is it hurting? You should’ve told us-”

“I’m just tired.” You cut in, shaking your head. “That’s all. I didn’t expect this to be drawn out this long when you called, Sammy.”

Bucky’s hand twitched as he hesitatingly scooted closer to you. “Doll, if this is because what happened on the jet-”

“It’s not, Buck.” You tried to give him a convincing smile, but you knew by the look in his eyes that he didn’t buy it for one second. You reached over to squeeze his hand, and when you pulled back, he held on tighter, a sigh escaping his lips as he stared down at your linked hands.

“Okay…if you wanna go home, we can get you home. Just…” His head turned back to you, a pleading pout on his features. “Just…stay. Another day. Please. You can keep avoiding me, I won’t even say another word to you if you don’t want. But stay. Just for one more day.”

Chewing on your cheek, you finally nodded slightly. “Okay. One more day.”

His eyes lit up, before his face fell again when you took your hand back and curled into the corner of the couch. “Let’s talk shop, boys.”

“Okay. So, from my understanding, Donya is like a pillar of the community, right?” Sam easily changed the topic back to the situation at hand, giving you a reassuring wink when you smiled at him gratefully. “So when I was a kid, my Tee Tee passed away.”

Bucky screwed his face up in confusion, straightening his head from where he had it leaned back. “Your - your Tee Tee?”

Sam gave him a look. “Yeah. My-my Tee Tee, yeah.”

Bucky looked at him weirdly. “Who is your Tee Tee?”

The exchange made you giggle a little bit, shaking your head. “Bucky’s a city boy from the 40’s, remember, Sammy?”

“Fine.” Sam rolled his eyes. “When I was a kid my aunt passed away.”

Bucky gave a slight huff, making you chuckle again. You stopped when he smiled over at you, but your grin didn’t leave your face. Even when they were the ones to give you a headache, your fellas were damn entertaining, that’s for sure.

With a sort-of plan in place - the gathering for Donya being no more than a theory, but the only idea you really had - you stretched out from your spot on the couch, twisting to crack your back. “Zemo.” The man stopped his rummaging through the cabinets and looked over his shoulder at you, an eyebrow raised. “Go put some clothes on. We’ve got work to do.”

He gave you an unimpressed look, opening his mouth, but Sam beat him to the punch. “Do as the lady says, man. You’re already walking on a tightrope after you shot Nagel!” Zemo waved dismissively at Sam’s exclamation, heading into a separate room to change out of his robe. “That guy is gonna drive me up the wall.”

“Don’t let him get to that pretty head of yours, Sammy.” You hummed, standing up, wincing slightly as you stretched your sore shoulder over your head.

You could tell Bucky wanted to say something, the way he snapped forwards, hands moving down his thigh like he was leaning over to reach for you, his eyes locked on your injured joint, but, just as he said earlier, he didn’t say a word. But the part that made you upset was…you didn’t stop him. You didn’t tell him it was okay for him to talk to you. You didn’t reassure him that you weren’t purposely trying to avoid him. You simply moved over to the kitchen to get something to drink.

It hurt worse than your shoulder, but you couldn’t handle it. Not then. Not with such an important part of the mission coming up. So you didn’t say anything. You just sipped your water, switching into tactic mode as your mind ran through the scenarios of what could possibly go down in the next 24 hours before you went home.

*************************

Walking under the arch, you couldn’t help but feel saddened as Zemo told you about what the courtyard used to look like. Thanos messed the world up so much more than you realized and, as much as you hated to admit it, the Avengers did have a part in it. Not that they - you - were in the wrong, necessarily. You truly believed you did what anyone in that situation, with the skills and abilities and knowledge the team had, would do what you did. Or tried to do.

“I’m gonna take a look around upstairs.” Sam stated, looking up at the upper stories of the building, before glancing at Bucky. “See what you can find out here. And keep an eye on him.”

“I’ll come with you.” You said, turning on your heel to follow Sam. The back of Bucky’s gloved hand brushed against yours, and instinctually you turned your palm to link your fingers and squeezing. You let go quickly once you realized what you were doing, nearly tripping up the stairs to get to Sam, not daring to wait for Bucky’s reaction.

“You’re an idiot.” He stated simply as soon as you met him at the top of the stairs.

“Can we focus on finding Donya right now, please?” You grumbled, moving forwards cautiously, peeking around the corner. You frowned when you saw two guys at the end of the hallway, looking back at you and Sam warily.

“You need to hear what he has to say, cher.”

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “I know I do. I know. But I can’t. Not right now. I’m just trying to get this over with first. I don’t want too many things on my plate. I might choke.” It already felt like you were drowning most nights.

He paused at your words, giving you a once over, before nodding. “Okay. I can respect that.”

“Thank you.” You told him earnestly. “Now let’s try to get something from these people.”

He nodded in agreement and you two continued forwards with your search. Room after room, people walked out before you could get anything from them, locking doors behind them. The Flag Smashers logo was everywhere, but you expected nothing less from a refugee camp that practically worshipped what they were doing.

Even when you did get a guy to talk to you, he immediately shut you down, leaving you and Sam dejected. The fact that the world had gotten so bad that these people couldn’t trust you and Sam - Avengers; people who used to be heroes and bring hope to others - it made your heart sink.

“C’mon, Y/N.”

“Are we wrong?”

He froze at your question, his lips pressing together. “About what, exactly?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I just…I guess I can’t tell right from left anymore. I always assumed that the Avengers were the good guys. That the actions we’ve taken in the past were us making the world a better place, but…Sokovia and Ultron. Germany and the whole civil war thing we had going on. The entire world and Thanos. We don’t truly ever win. Do we?”

“I can’t answer that for you.” Sam shook his head. “I can’t tell you what to believe or who to believe in. But I can tell you that we’ve made a difference. Steve, Nat, Tony…they made a difference.”

“But was it a good difference? Was it a change? There’s a difference between changing the world and just making it different, Sam.”

He blinked at you, nodding slowly. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. And I don’t have that answer for you either. But they tried. They did what they thought was right. No matter if it was or not. And isn’t that all we can do? Try?”

His words made you think back to the conversation you had with Bucky once he learned about John Walker, which seemed so long ago. When you told him it wasn’t Sam’s fault. That he was just trying. That he did what he thought was right. 

And maybe he was wrong. But he made a decision. It was his decision. To do the right thing. And right then, not for the first time, you could see exactly what Steve saw in the man in front of you.

“You’re a good man, Sam.”

Sam grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulders and squeezing. “And you’re an incredible person, Y/N. Let’s go see if Bucky and the Baron got anything.”

You snickered at his mocking tone towards Zemo and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

*****************************

You didn’t like it. You didn’t like it one bit. So far, Zemo kept proving you wrong. Even when it seemed like he was about to jump ship, he came back. No matter how many opportunities he had to escape, he never did. And it was making you even more suspicious.

You stayed out of Bucky and Sam’s conversation, although you had to agree with Sam’s point, especially with the conversation you just had.

Your thoughts were running a thousand miles a minute, only to be interrupted by Zemo information about the funeral this afternoon. Guess a snake will always be a snake.

“And you, uh, didn’t think this was important information?” You questioned, eyes narrowed and brow pinched.

He shrugged. “You have it now, don’t you, princess?”

Bucky growled at the nickname, leaning back on the couch, threatening Zemo with the Dora Milaje.

You can’t remember a time you’ve ever been scared of Bucky. Maybe a little threatened and intimidated by the Winter Soldier, but never scared of Bucky. And when he stood up after Zemo mentioned leverage, you didn’t expect anything from it; maybe another choke hold or something. So the glass hitting the wall, the clench in his jaw as he spoke gruffly to the Baron, for a mere second, he kind of frightened you. Maybe it was all the emotions you’d been through the past few weeks or maybe it was the adrenaline that seemed to be pulsing through your veins 24/7 nowadays. Whatever it was, it made you flinch, bolting up as Sam did.

You left the room quickly, hearing Sam say something about making a call, hoping to calm your racing heart.

“Doll?” You sat up from the bed you were laying on, legs hanging off the edge. Bucky stood in the doorway, nervously shifting his feet. “I know I said I’d leave you alone, but…”

You gave the bed a pat next to you and he gladly accepted the invitation, padding over to sit besides you. “I don’t want you to leave me alone, Buck. You’re my best friend. I-I just need to take it one thing at a time right now.”

He nodded. “I get it. I wasn’t…I wasn’t coming in to talk to you about that. You said we’ll talk about it later, so we’ll talk about it later.”

“I appreciate that, Bucky.” You smiled at him, before frowning. “What did you wanna talk about then? Are you okay?”

“Did I…did I scare you?”

You blinked at his question, tilting your head. “What?”

Jerking his head to the doorway he explained, “just then. With Zemo. Your heart spiked.”

“No.” You answered immediately. You would never ever admit that he kind of did scare you. It was just for a second and you knew how his brain worked; he’d beat himself up over it, go over his actions for hours instead of getting the rest he so desperately needs and deserves. He didn’t need that on his conscience right now. “I wasn’t - I just…you startled me. I wasn’t expecting that reaction-”

“I didn’t like the way he talked to you.” He spat out, glaring at his hands in his lap. “And then the smug bastard thought he was gonna get away with holding back information like that and I just…I dunno.”

His hand came off his thigh, but he hesitated. Before he could put it down again, you slipped your hand under his, linking your fingers, running your thumb in circles against his palm. “Don’t let him get to you, Buck. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

A sigh left his lips and he nodded. “I know, I know. It’s just…hard. After everything he put me through - put us through - I…I just hate that he’s really our only option.”

You frowned, shifting on the bed to face him, one leg bending beneath you while the other still hung over. “Why are you so obsessed with catching these guys?”

“I wanna do something right.” He murmured, playing with your fingers. “I’ve done so much wrong…I just wanna do something right. And I feel...responsible for it, I guess. In a way. It’s Super Soldier Serum. I thought I was the only one after Steve…” He froze at the blonde’s mention, giving you a side-eyed glance. You nudged him, silently telling him to continue, that it was okay to talk about him. “And Sam’s right, you know. She’s just a kid. So…I dunno. I wanna help. I wanna do something right. And catching them would help. It’s right. Right?”

You nodded firmly. “I understand where they’re coming from. Karli’s just trying to help the world. But she’s doing it wrong. And that I know for absolute certainty. Which is good, I guess. I was talking to Sam early and I mentioned not knowing my right from my left recently. It’s good I know something, huh? And for you it should be easy telling your right from your left.” You joked, tracing the gold lines on his metal arm. “I guess you’re just gonna have to stay besides me to help me remember.”

Looking up, you found Bucky staring at you with something you recognized in his eyes, but didn’t want to name. “Three hours, forty two minutes and thirty one seconds.”

“What?”

“That’s how long I didn’t talk to you. It was too long.”

You sighed, ducking your head. “Bucky, I’m sorry-”

“I’m sorry. For anything and everything I’ve ever done wrong. I won’t mention the plane or anything we’ve talked about until you bring it up first. I promise. Just…just don’t ignore me anymore? I'm not sure I can handle it for much longer.”

You nodded, watching your fingertips dance along his scruffy jaw. “I won’t.” He caught your wrist, opening his mouth, before shaking his head and closing it. “What?”

He shook his head again. “Not until you bring it up.”

“We will talk, James. I promise.”

“You don’t have to explain. I get it. I really do. It’s okay. As long as we’re okay for right now, I can hold it in a bit longer.”

You nearly asked him what he was holding in, but you quickly shoved the question out of your mind, knowing it would take you down a conversation you couldn’t possibly have right then. “How long do you think we have?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Zemo just said that it’s this afternoon. Why?”

“I started reading The Great Gatsby on the plane. I’ve got it on my phone. It kinda reminds me of you. Do you-do you think we have time to read some? Only if you want, I mean. Like we used to do in Wakanda?”

He grinned and nodded, scooting up on the bed and flopping down into the pillows. You smiled back, following his lead. Once you were comfortable, your phone out with the chapter you were on, Bucky scooted closer, laying his head on your stomach, hugging your waist. 

“Is this okay?”

Your fingers found home in his hair and you nodded when he looked up at you for an answer. “Yeah. It’s perfect, Buckaroo.”

[gubler-me-up]

A Man After Midnight

Request: can you do a extremely dirty and down right filthy smut with dom spencer and fem/sub reader. like with heavy degradation, overstimulation, dirty talk, slapping, choking. basically just down right smut. if not it’s okay :)

A/N: Thanks for the prompt, anon! Fun fact: I was listening to Abba’s Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight) slowed+reverb when I made this title because the song was doing something when I was reading this request. Feel free to listen to it while reading, it’s a BANGER! This is a longer than usual fic since all the fics I’ve published recently were shorter, but there was a lot to do here LOL And I’m posting it after midnight, so does that make me a woman after midnight? Anyway, hope you enjoy!!

Couple: Dom!Spencer/Sub Fem!Reader

Category: SMUT (NSFW 18+)

Content warning: Heavy degradation, slapping, spitting, choking, penetrative sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, female masturbation, mention of sex toys    

Word count: 3k

--------------

You were laying on your couch mindlessly browsing Amazon to see what you could spend your money on now. You had a bad habit of browsing through every category when you were bored. Since you were on there though you decided to take a peek at any new sex toys they had.

You scrolled down the page filled with vibrators, dildos and other assortments of toys they were newly selling. As you scrolled you found yourself thinking of Spencer. Usually your companion on boring nights, but tonight he warned you not to bother him. He told you he was going to be busy with going through case files since he was a bit behind.

You went over to your text messages to see if he had messaged you anything after you told him you wouldn’t bother him. He hadn’t. You looked at the time and saw it was 11:40 p.m. You opened the text message you were having with Spencer. You were curious if he was still working or if he had time to acknowledge your existence. You asked him how working on the files were going and then went back to Amazon.

You continued to scroll through the sex toys as you waited for him to text back. The more you looked at the dildos on the page the more you wished Spencer was over. You two had seen each other more than usual in the past month, but it never seemed as if there was time to have sex. He had a lot of work to do outside of already working ridiculous hours. You guessed that was the downside of not going on cases frequently. You were grateful he was around to go out and hang out with, but you missed him holding you down and fucking you mindless.

You checked to see if you missed a text from him. He hadn’t texted you back. You sighed and decided to message him again. You asked him if he was busy still and waited to see if he would respond. You waited for two minutes, but didn’t receive anything back. You guessed he was still busy. You found it astonishing that even a genius like him could take so long to do these case files. He was probably flooded by them.

You sighed as you locked your phone and laid it on your chest. You closed your eyes to rest them from staring at your screen light. Your mind started to wander to the last time you and Spencer had sex. He had you bent over your couch begging him to fuck you harder and harder. He had to cover your mouth at one point because you were being so loud that your neighbours were pounding on your wall. Just the thought of his dick pounding in you got you wet.

You opened your eyes and picked back up your phone. If he wasn’t going to text you maybe he’d answer a call from you. You just wanted to hear his voice if that was the only thing he could give you. You dialed his number and put your phone against your ear as you eagerly anticipated his voice. A few rings went by before you heard him answer.

“Yes, Y/N?” He asked.

He sounded slightly annoyed, but his deep, bothered tone made your heart speed up. Hearing his tone directly in your ear was such a sweet sound. You wanted to keep him on the line as long as possible.

“You didn’t answer my text messages, so I just wanted to know if you were alright,” you said.

“I’m fine. I told you I’d be busy, so I wouldn’t be able to talk,” he said.

“I know, I know, but you could have at least texted me back saying you were still busy. Had me out here wondering things,” you said.

“Wondering things?” He questioned.

“Yeah.”

“Like?”

“I don’t know like you coming over.”

“Y/N, you know I can’t tonight.”

“Just for a little. I know you don’t go to bed early anyway. I’d love to see you.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Babe, please. I want to see you tonight. I need to see you tonight.”

There was a pause on his end. His silence was killing you, but he didn’t leave you hanging for long. He let out a long sigh. He paused again before finally saying something again.

“You sound desperate. What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that I want to be your little whore tonight and you’re not letting me do that for you.”

He paused again. These pauses were indicating to you that he was taking your words into consideration. You knew how much he loved when you acted like his little whore. Doing anything he asked, letting him treat you however he wanted and enjoying every bit of it.

“I don’t know. I’m already behind with-”

“Don’t you want to fuck me?”

He paused.

“Well?”

“Yes.”

“Then come over and you can fuck me however you want.”

He paused again. You sat up as you waited for his response. You could hardly maintain your cool as you licked your lips in excitement. He finally let out a long, draining sigh.

“I’ll be there a bit after midnight. You know how much I hate when you sound overly desperate.”

“You’re coming here regardless though, are you not?”

“Only to help your desperate nature.”

You giggled. “Can’t wait to see you too. I’ll make sure I’m ready for you.”

“You better. See you soon.”

Without another word exchanged, he hung up. You hopped off the couch and let out a thrill fuelled shriek. You ran to your room and went straight to your drawer. You grabbed your favourite matching bra and underwear set before heading to the washroom.

You turned on your shower to let it warm up. You stripped your clothes off and looked at yourself in the mirror. You touched your breasts and then slowly ran your hands down your sides. You couldn’t contain the feeling of ecstasy you were experiencing throughout your whole being. The thought of Spencer was enough to get you feeling like an animal.

You hopped into the shower. You let the water flow over your body as you closed your eyes. The warmth of the water was refreshing. Before you opened your eyes and begin your shower, you let your hand wander down to your clit. You started to circle it as you thought of Spencer watching you do it with concentrated eyes. You stuck two of your fingers inside of you as you continued to recount countless times Spencer had you in his grip and had his way with you.

You pumped your fingers in and out of you at a rapid pace. You started moaning louder and louder. Your thoughts alone carried you to your orgasm as you let out a high pitched moan. You pulled your fingers out and let the water clean them of your juices.

After you were done showering, you put your favourite lotion on and your favourite deodorant. You then put on the bra and underwear combo. You looked at yourself in the mirror. You played around with your hair to see how sexy you could make it. Not that it mattered anyway, but you wanted to look as presentable as possible for the first few minutes of his arrival.

You went into your room and went over to your dresser. You picked out your favourite perfume and gave yourself a few sprits of it on your chest. You loved to doll yourself up before getting the shit fucked out of you because you knew how much Spencer loved making you look disheveled. He loved seeing you go from near perfect to his perfect little whore.

You heard a few knocks at your door. You felt chills crawl down your spine as you strolled over to your door. You looked through the peephole and saw Spencer standing there waiting for you to let him in. You smiled and opened the door enough to let him in.

“Welcome,” you said.

He smiled at you as he walked in. You immediately closed the door and leaned your back against it with your hands placed behind your back. You stared at him as you bit your lip as he stood there all cool and collected. You knew this was the quiet before the storm.

He looked over at you. He beckoned you with a movement of his fingers to come close to him. You slowly walked up to him. You reached out your hands and pressed them against his chest. You looked lustfully into his eyes as he continued to stare intently at you.

“I’ve waited so patiently for you to fuck me, baby,” you said.

He grabbed your hands off of your chest. He held them tightly and close to his lips. He kissed your hands as he continued to look you in your eyes. You couldn’t break eye contact with him. It was as if he was looking into you.

“No, you weren’t. You’re too calm now. Did you masturbate before I came?” He asked.

“No,” you lied.

In one swift motion, he let go of your hands and took his right hand to grab your neck firmly. You let out a gasp as he pulled your face close to him. Just by him doing that you were back to feeling your juices in-between your legs.

“You’re such a lying little whore. Did I teach you to lie to me?” He asked.

“No,” you squeaked.

“Then why did you lie?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” you said.

“On your knees,” he demanded.

You dropped to your knees as he let go of your neck. You already knew the drill, so you opened your mouth wide and waited. He undid his pants and pulled them down along with his underwear. The sight of his dick got you revved up and ready to start the night ahead.

He grabbed a handful of your hair and pushed your head forward, so your mouth could swallow him whole. You choked on his dick as it reached the back of your throat. He kept it there for a while as he listened to you choke on his cock. He pulled you off of him and watched as a string of spit connected your mouth to his dick.

“What happens when you lie to me?” He asked.

“I choke on your dick,” you said.

He responded by shoving your mouth back on his dick. You gagged on it as you felt tears sting your eyes. Saliva dripped from the side of your mouth and went down your chin all the way to your breasts. He soon rocked his hips back and forth so he could fuck your mouth.

“You think you’re smart enough to outwit me? Let this be a reminder of your place as my little whore,” he said.

You moaned around his cock in agreement. You reached your hands towards his thighs for some stability. He pulled you off of his cock and slapped you before grabbing your chin, so you could face him.

“Hands behind your back, whore,” he demanded.

You did as he said and held your hands behind your back. You opened back up your mouth for him and he gladly went back to fucking your mouth. As he kept hitting the back of your throat, you could feel the tears stream down your eyes and it mixed with the saliva dripping down the side of your mouth.

He pulled your head off of him and held your head back, so you could look up at him. He looked at the tears running down your face. He then looked at your saliva running down your chin and running onto your breasts.

“Tell me what you think you look like right now,” he said.

“Like a disgusting whore,” you responded.

“You do,” he said.

He let go of your hair and grabbed your chin. He leaned down and gave you a hot and heavy kiss with his tongue, not shying away from tackling yours. He parted his lips from yours. He didn’t move his face far away from yours though. He squeezed your jaw, so you could keep your mouth open. A stream of his spit went into your mouth and you gladly let it fall on your tongue before swallowing.

“But you’re my disgusting whore. Tell me, what else were you doing before I came and tell me the truth,” he said.

“I was looking at sex toys,” you confessed.

“That’s how desperate you were? You were going to order sex toys instead of waiting for me to satisfy you?” He asked.

“I promise I wasn’t going to buy anything, baby. You’re the only thing that can satisfy me,” you said.

“Is that so?” He asked.

“Yes, I’m only for you. I’m only happy when you fuck me. My little whore pussy is only for you, I swear,” you said.

“Get up,” he demanded.

You shot up from your kneeling position and he immediately pushed you backward until your back hit the wall. He wrapped his big hand around your neck as his other hand went down to your clit and started to circle it. You let out a squeaky moan as he looked at your desperate expression.

“Tell me what you masturbated to,” he demanded.

“I-I…you,” you moaned.

He started to circle your clit faster. “What did the little whore squeak?”

“You,” you shrieked.

“And what about me?”

“I was thinking…a-about how…you f-f-fuck me.”

He slipped two of his long fingers in you. You let out a loud moan as he started to rapidly pump in and out of you. The way he looked at you with desire in his eyes made you soaking wet.

“How do I fuck you?”

“Like a whore. Like the fucking whore I am.”

“What makes you a fucking whore?”

“Because I love getting stuffed with dick. I do anything to get fucked.”

“What makes you my little whore?”

“I love being fucked by you. I do anything you want to just be close to your dick.”

He attacked you with another aggressive kiss as he continued his pace with his fingers in you. You could feel a tingling sensation running through you again. You knew he wasn’t going to stop though. He wanted to be the one to make you cum this time. You were glad to make him be the one to make you cum this time.

He pulled his fingers out prematurely. You let out an unsatisfied groan as he parted his lips from yours. He heard you and that came with repercussions. He gave you another slap on your cheek with the hand he just pulled out of you.

“Keep complaining and I won’t fuck you at all,” he said as he licked off your juices from his fingers.

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again,” you said.

“You’re lucky I want to fuck the shit out of you. Take off your underwear and bra,” he said as he let go of your neck.

You unhooked your bra and then pulled down your underwear. He grabbed your waist and pulled you in for another quick heavy kiss before leading you over to your kitchen table. You felt your blood pumping through your veins. You could tell you were about to get fucked hard. Whenever it wasn’t in the bedroom it was a sex act of pure, heavy lustful desire.

He grabbed you by your hair and forced your head down on the table. The rest of your torso fell onto the table as he positioned himself behind you. He slapped your butt cheek.

“Open your legs,” he said.

You spread your legs open and felt his dick ram inside of you. You let out a shriek as he continued to pound into you with such a great force you swear the table was moving with every thrust. He lifted your head up from the table, so your neck was bent back. It was bent far enough back so he could look at you desperately letting out your wild shrieks.

“This is how a whore gets fucked,” he said.

“I deserve it. I’ve been such a bad whore,” you said.

You felt his free hand go back to your clit. He rubbed circles around it and watched as you could barely form anything coherent to say. He smirked down at you.

“You can redeem yourself by cumming on the dick you love so much,” he said.

He didn’t even have to circle your clit for long. The look in his eyes mixed with the already lingering feeling of an orgasm from not too long ago sent you to your limit. You let out a scream as he continued to pound into you as you let your orgasm take over your body.

“That’s a good whore. Do you want my cum in you or on you?” He asked

“I-In…” Was all you could muster up to say.

“I knew a whore like you would want all my cum in you.”

“I-I…I love…love your cum.”

He smiled as he leaned down and gave you a sloppy kiss. “I know, you usually want to swallow it.”

“I…I want it…I want it to drip…out of my…”

“Shh, I know,” he said.

He planted a few kisses on your neck as he began to pound into you harder. You were screaming at that point from the feeling of his dick destroying you. Your nails were scratching the table as you tried to keep your balance. He let out a loud moan and you could feel his cum release into you.

He let go of your hair and pulled out of you. You felt his cum dripping out of you and you knew he was watching it drip out of you from behind. He then grabbed your arm to turn you around, so you could face him.

He smiled at you. “Is this what you so desperately wanted? This couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

You gave him an exhausted smile. “I wanted to be your little whore tonight.”

He leaned down and kissed you. “You were a very good little whore tonight.”

“Does that mean a round two is up for discussion?” You asked.

He chuckled. “How about we get cleaned up and we cuddle instead?”

“Can I be your little cuddle whore at least?”

“Of course.”

—–

MASTERLIST

[whump-a-la-mode]

A hero is in a coma. Villain visits them every single day, loosing sleep, not eating, their life is now completely focused around the empty hospital room.

Until hero wakes up and notices how sick villain has become due to anxiety and not taking care of themselves. Caretaking?

This is such a cute ask!! There’s only a little caretaking, but as always I’d be happy to write some more ^^

To all non-Americans out there, I am so sorry for using our weird 12 hour clock in this piece

CW//Comas, medical settings, just some horrible self care, mentions of explosions, bad hygiene, sleep deprivation, low self esteem, blaming self, strong language

“How are they doing?”

The voice alone was enough to make Doctor jump, spinning on their heels with such quickness that their shoes squealed on the tiled hospital floor.

Oh. It was just Villain.

Just Villain. It was a ridiculous thought to have, and they were well aware of that fact. Only a few short weeks ago, the name would have been enough to make any well-minded civilian tremble. It was bad enough, to hear it spoken on the news. Worse, to hear it not coming from a television-- in some cases, that name was all the warning one was given, before a terrible fate befell them. A nameless causality in the never-ending battle of good and evil.

But, now, there was no terror associated with it.

Most hospitals, Doctor was well aware, were fortunate enough that villains did not often pass through their doors. When they did, in the best cases, it was to seek treatment. In the worst cases, they had far more destructive intentions.

Their hospital, however, was an exception. There is a saying, that one can get used to anything, and with their experience, they now believed it to be more than true.

Doctor sighed, letting their shoulders fall.

“Visiting hours are over, Villain. You need to go home.”

The villain’s eyes widened, flickering momentarily to the nearest clock. In fact, it was past the end of visiting hours. Well past. Night rounds were about to begin, even.

It was simply so easy to forget Villain, hunched over in their little plastic chair.

Especially with those big, pathetic eyes with which they regarded Doctor.

“I can’t leave.” They pleaded. “Not yet. Can’t I stay just another hour?”

“No, Villain. We’ve been over this. You can come back tomorrow, bright and early, right at seven.”

“But it’s eleven, now! That’s eight hours. Eight hours they’ll be alone.”

“Not alone.” Doctor bit their lower lip. They knew full well that the person before them could render them to a charred corpse in mere seconds, if they so wished. Their tense, skipping heartbeat wouldn’t let them forget it. But, there was no malice in their eyes. Not an ounce. Only that terrible, pitiful sorrow. The sorrow that never seemed to leave them. “There’s people here, all night. A whole medical staff. If anything happens, they won’t be alone. I promise.”

Villain’s lip quivered. Weren’t they supposed to be dangerous?

“You’re sure I can’t stay? Just another hour?”

“I’m sure.”

“O-Okay.” The villain reached into their shoulder bag, and, for a moment, Doctor nearly pressed the nearest panic alarm. Yet, they withdrew no weapon. Instead, Villain took a small, spiral-bound notebook in hand, offering it. “Here are my notes. Um, just so you know. What they did today.”

Doctor’s gaze downcast to the paper. They already had three of these, piled on their desk. Filled to the brim. This one had only recently been started.

The page the notebook was turned to displayed the same thing as all the rest: Impeccably neat handwriting, dividing the page into half hour blocks. In each, letters of equal quality described the patient’s condition, down to the most minute detail.

3:30 - Minor twitching of the eyelids accompanied by singular irregular heartbeat.

4:00 - No abnormalities.

4:30 - Twitching of left index finger.

5:00 - Abnormal breath at around 5:12.

It was the best-kept record of a comatose patient’s condition that Doctor had ever seen. Even if it wasn’t exactly helpful, with how repetitive the patient’s movements tended to be, it was downright impressive.

“Thank you, Villain. I’ll tell the receptionist to expect you at seven?”

“Is there any chance I could come in earlier than that?”

“No. I’m sorry. Visiting hours start at seven.”

“I’m quiet. You know I’m quiet. I won’t be a bother to anybody.”

“I know, Villain. If...” They knew they needed to say something, or this argument would continue all night long. “If anything happens, we have your number on file. I’ll call you myself.”

“Really?” Their eyes widened. “You promise?”

“I promise. Now, you need to go home.”

“Okay.”

“You won’t hide in the bathroom and try to stay late this time?”

“You saw?”

“Everyone saw, Villain. Now, you’ve gotta skedaddle.”

The villain nodded hesitantly, looking to their shoes as they turned, moving down the hallway. As they left, Doctor could not help but mutter in their wake:

“And get some rest.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Six weeks.

Those two words echoed hollowly in Villain’s mind as they plodded along the damp sidewalk, lit only by the dewy echoes of streetlights overhead. The hour was late enough, and the city tired enough, that the streets were nearly deserted-- a state they were in so very rarely.

Their henchmen had spoken to them so many times, lecturing them that moving through the city’s depths, alone and unprotected, was terribly dangerous. Any hero, or any vigilante too cocky for their own good, could try their luck in an ambush.

But, Villain could hardly bring themself to care.

Six weeks.

That was all they cared about.

Six weeks since Hero had moved. Six weeks since they’d spoken, since they’d awoken. Exactly six, now.

Exactly six weeks since...

Villain’s hands clenched to fists at their sides, overgrown nails digging into the meat of their palms.

Since they’d made the biggest mistake of their life. Since the two sworn nemeses, Hero and Villain, light and dark, good and evil, had had their final battle. An industrial sabotage gone wrong.

They should have known better! Better than to use their pyrokenisis in an oil refinery.

But, that hadn’t. They hadn’t been thinking. They never thought! They were so stupid, so reckless, so careless...

Villain’s ears still rung from the explosion.

Their injuries meant nothing, even as they still throbbed. No. Because, for the last six weeks, they had been awake. Moving. Talking.

Hero hadn’t been so lucky.

When they at last arrived at their HQ, the halls were silent. Life existed only in the form of a scattering of guards, nodding their respects, but making no other gestures.

It was with weary legs that Villain ascended to their bedroom. They hardly noticed its state-- they’d grown used to the scatterings of clothes and papers. Instead, upon opening the door, their eyes snapped to the bed.

More specifically, the item upon it. They rushed to it, yanking it off the mussed blankets.

A book. A note, upon its cover.

“Went to bed before I could give this to you. It’s that book you wanted - Henchman”

Villain removed the note, far more interested in the cover it hid.

A Neurologist’s Guide to Chronic Vegetative States

There were more than enough pages within to last them until sunrise; until visiting hours at last recommenced.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

At 5:40, the sun began its ascent, bathing the sky in a dull hue of blue.

When six o’ clock came, the first rays of light could be seen, flashing over the horizon.

With the strike of 6:10, Villain placed down their book. They were only around halfway through-- wandering eyes and brief minutes of dozing lowering the speed at which their foggy mind could process the medical textbook.

They would have more than enough time to read, the next night. The book didn’t matter. What mattered was that visiting hours would commence in 50 minutes, exactly.

Twenty minutes to walk to the hospital. Meaning that, to get there early, they needed to leave in fifteen.

Rubbing sleep from their eyes, Villain rose from their chair, knees popping and cracking all the way to the bedroom door. Quickly, they changed into the cleanest clothes they could find, if only for the sake of appearances, before heading out.

Showering could wait. Showers took time, time that could be spend watching. Reading. Taking notes.

Helping. Doing anything, anything they could to help.

Emerging into the hallway, they startled a moment. The lights had already been turned on, despite the fact that their henchmen never awoke this early. Perhaps they had simply forgotten to turn them off the night prior.

Yet, there were noises, from downstairs.

There was no fear left in their body to feel. Justifications were quickly made, and they ran down the stairs.

Entering the kitchen, a scent hit Villain, forceful as a gust of wind. The scent of food-- warm and fresh and garnished with garlic.

Before the stove, Henchman stood. Out of all those Villain employed, Henchman was the least likely to be awake at such an hour. Often, they dragged themself from bed well after ten.

Yet, here they stood, flipping a pancake in a skillet.

“Hey, boss.” Their henchman turned, a grin glimmering upon their face. “I’m almost done here. Get yourself something to drink.”

Villain blinked.

“What... are you doing?”

“Making breakfast? I thought that’d be pretty obvious.”

“Yeah, I can see that. But... Why? You never eat breakfast.”

“Yeah. It’s not for me. ‘s for you, boss.”

They shook their head, glancing at the clock. 6:17.

“I’m not hungry. Besides, I really need to get going.”

“Boss.” There was an endeared, yet frustrated, tone to the voice. “When was the last time you ate?”

“You made me eat a granola bar yesterday.”

“And the day before that, you didn’t eat anything. So, you’re eating breakfast, if I have to shove it down your throat.”

They clenched their hands to fists.

“I don’t have time for this! Visiting hours are going to start soon. I need to be there.”

“No. You need to eat. Then you can go to the hospital.”

“You don’t get to decide that. I need to go. I’m sorry.”

“Boss.” Henchman slid the pancake onto a plate before deftly stepping between their boss and the front door. “I don’t mean to be blunt, but you look like hell. I know you haven’t been sleeping. Everyone knows it. If you keep acting like this, you’re going to be the one in a hospital bed.”

Villain gritted their teeth.

“Maybe that’s what I deserve. Now, fuck off. Get someone else to eat your damn pancakes.”

With those words, and furious footsteps, they emerged onto the sidewalk outside.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When Receptionist arrived at their desk, there was already a patron, sitting in their waiting room.

A few short weeks ago, such would have been unusual. While other parts of the hospital were occupied day and night, the appointments handled by this room did not begin until the hospital actually opened-- right at seven.

Now, though, there was nothing strange about it.

Before they could so much as sit down, Villain was already moving towards them.

Receptionist could not help but note their appearance.

Working in a hospital, they had long since grown used to seeing the sick and injured. And yet, there was something particularly distressing about this case.

They supposed, it was because they had seen it happen. Usually, when patients arrived at the hospital, it was because they could no longer manage their own conditions. Their bodies were in shambles. They showed up in their damaged states.

Villain, on the other hand, had first appeared to the waiting room is relatively good health.

Then, they had begun to appear tired.

And thin.

Now, their appearance matched that of the comatose patient that they were here to see. Skin clung taught about their cheekbones, their flesh pale and eyes glazed over. Most semblances of hygiene had been abandoned entirely; some parts of their hair had even begun to mat, and dirt clung to them like caked and cracked makeup.

But, there was something else in their eyes. The sheer essence of undying compassion.

It was that alone that prevented Receptionist from sending them away.

Villain had no need to speak. As soon as they had time to sit, the hospital employee had paged the proper floor-- a sequence of buttons that had quickly become muscle memory.

“You can go up, now.” They spoke. With a wearied nod, Villain moved to begin their ceaseless watch.

Neither of them could have guessed that, an hour later, the unthinkable would come true.

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When Hero awoke, it was to the sound of a pencil, scratching at paper.

The world filled in with a terrible, exhaustion tedium. Above them, blurs of white and grey turned to a sterile, white tile, while the world about solidified to four pale, beige walls.

A hospital. They’d been in enough to recognize as such, with just how clumsy their teammates tended to be.

But why were they here, now...? Who had gotten hurt, this time? They couldn’t quite remember.

Rolling onto their side, the question was quickly answered.

Villain appeared to be on death’s doorstep, about to press the doorbell. Matted hair clung to their neck, eyes drooping and skin appearing as though there was no blood beneath it at all.

At the very least, they had made it to the hospital before suffering any serious damage.

Wait.

It was only then that Hero realized who exactly was in the room’s hospital bed.

[dakotacrisis]

Adrien’s Sick Day

(This dumb idea would not let me sleep. Adrien gets sick but refuses to miss school so chugs a bottle of Nyquil but starts crashing when he gets to school. Shoots back an energy drink to keep awake. Disassociates so hard he comes to with a new fencing trophy and a girlfriend.)

---

Adrien was sick. He never got sick easy but he was sicker than a dog today. His temperature was through the roof and the only medicine in the house was a bottle of Nyquil.

“Sounds like an easy day in.” Plagg said. “Chug it down and let’s get back to bed.”

Adrien shook his head. “I wanna go to school.”

“School?” Plagg rested on top of his head, “Kid, do you really want to attempt class today?”

“I have already missed normal human interaction for the first fifteen years of my life. I am not missing another day!” Adrien chugged down the Nyquil. “Let’s go!”

Despite Plagg’s protests to stay inside Adrien collected his bag and headed to school. He was doing well up until he stepped inside and the medicine really started kicking in. Right...the medicine wasn’t the non-drowsy kind.

“Hey dude,” Nino clapped him on the back to which Adrien almost fell face first into floor. “Dang, what’s wrong with you?”

“Fever. Medicine. Sleepy. Not missing class.” Adrien rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Got any coffee?”

“I have this.” Nino pulled out an energy drink from his bag. “You can have it if you really want it but I think you should just go home.”

“No, I’m fine. Hand it over.” Adrien took the drink and walked with Nino into class.

In the blink of an eye Adrien was no longer in class but back home in his room holding a half empty cup of boba. “What the...” Adrien looked around. “How did I...”

The sun was further down in the sky so it must be later. Oh god, where did he put his phone? On his desk was a new fencing trophy he didn’t remember earning. Hanging off the trophy’s miniature epee was the lucky charm Marinette had lent him.

This was strange. He checked the clock on his computer and was surprised to see that it was five in the evening. What had happened all day? He couldn’t remember a thing.

The sound of his phone ringing with a notification caught his attention. He rummaged around in his bag and pulled it out. The background on his phone had changed too. Instead of the picture of him and Nino it was him in his fencing uniform holding a trophy in one hand and his other arm wrapped around Marinette who was kissing his cheek.

Okay. What the heck happened today?

He went to his contacts and hit Nino’s number. Hopefully he could shed some light on this situation.

“Hey bro, what’s up?” Nino shouted over the roar of a crowd in the background, “You change your mind and want to come out to the party?”

“Party?” Adrien asked. “What party?”

“Well I guess it is turning more into a festival. I know Marinette said you should go home and rest but you sound a lot better. We’re currently out under the Eiffel Tower if you wanna stop by.”

“What festival? What’s going on?” Adrien couldn’t make heads or tails of what he was saying. He was fairly certain there wasn’t any parties or holidays today.

“Sorry dude, I can’t hear you.” Nino shouted over the noise, “Eiffel Tower! Come out! Have some fun!”

He hung up and Adrien was back at square one but with even more questions. Maybe there were some clues in his phone. He checked his pictures and saw that there were more pictures he had taken today. The picture he had set as his background was there. There was a group shot with the guys who held Adrien up on their shoulders. Those were taken around four.

Adrien checked his calendar and saw that he did have a fencing tournament today at three. So that’s where he must have been for that hour. And he ended up placing first while zonked out on cold medicine. Adrien wasn’t sure what to make of that. Either his opponents weren’t that great or he is just an amazing fencer when he’s blacked out. Neither sat right with him.

That’s still leaves the seven hours from school and the hour between when he won the tournament and when he got home. Wait! Plagg! Plagg was by his side the entire time! He’d know!

“Plagg!” Adrien called, “Plagg! Where are you?”

“Ugh, you said I could relax.” Plagg’s voice came from the cheese cabinet. Adrien opened it and saw Plagg nesting atop a large wheel of camembert. “Haven’t we done enough today?”

“Plagg, I don’t remember what happened today. You have to fill me in.”

“Seriously?” PLagg laughed, “You don’t remember a thing?”

“No! And it’s creeping me out!” Adrien pulled him out of the cabinet. “Please tell me what I did.”

“Well I don’t really know.”

“How do you not know? You hide in my bag all day!”

“I sleep in your bag all day. I only woke up for the akuma.”

“Akuma? When was there an akuma?”

“A bunch of akumas. We had another Scarlet Akuma pandemic going on before you ran off to go fencing. You and Ladybug were really struggling for a while there until your doppelgangers showed up. Something happened after the akumas got purified but I was tired and bored at that point and stopped paying attention.”

“No! Plagg, I need to know what happened! And what do you mean by doppelgangers?”

“Oh right, bunny girl brought future you and Ladybug back in time to help with the akumas.”

“My future self! Future Ladybug?!” Adrien was going to throw himself off a building. He had completely missed meeting his future self and seeing what Ladybug looked like grown up. She could have only gotten more beautiful.

“Yeah, it was trippy.” Plagg said. “That’s all I remember though. After you transformed back you had to go to fencing and I stayed in your locker resting.”

“So you don’t know anything else? Not even about this?” Adrien showed him the picture of Marinette kissing him.

“Awe, finally got that girlfriend of yours I see. But no. No idea.”

“You’re awfully helpful.” Adrien sighed. He needed answers. He wasn’t gonna be able to focus until he filled in the blanks from today. He got online and started combing through the footage from the akuma attack. Plagg wasn’t kidding. This was the most akumas Adrien had ever seen. It looked as if half of Paris had been infected.

Him, Ladybug, and some of the other heroes were fighting against them but losing ground fast. A shining portal opened up and...holy crap. It really was his future self walking alongside a grown up Ladybug. Bunnix also joined them. The footage sped by as the heroes, future and present fought side by side. Adrien had always thought that he and Ladybug were a well oiled machine but seeing their future counterparts fight made them look like fish flopping on a deck. It was as if they were thinking about each other’s moves five steps ahead.

There was an eruption of white butterflies as the akumas were purified. The people cheered. Future Chat grabbed Future Ladybug and spun her in the air in victory. And then...oh…present Ladybug grabbed present Chat and kissed him. Seriously?! Another kiss he couldn’t remember!

“PLAGG!” Adrien shouted, “YOU SAID NOTHING ELSE HAPPENED!”

“Nothing did!” Plagg shouted back.

“LADYBUG KISSED ME! THAT’S NOT NOTHING TO ME!”

“How is this any different then the other times she kissed you and you forgot?”

“Y’know what--!”

“Can’t hear you. Napping.” Plagg started snoring loudly.

Adrien sighed. He turned his attention back to the screen.

There was only more cheering as the two kissed. Wait. So he kissed Ladybug and Ladybug kissed him back and they both remember so why had Marinette been kissing him in his fencing picture? Once again, more questions.

The future miraculous holders went back through the portal. His present self and Ladybug waved to the crowd then vaulted out of frame. According to the akuma report online that was from 12:40 to 2:55. Another two hours accounted for. Yet it was the minutes in between that seemed to hold all the answers.

Adrien grabbed his school bag and dumped it out looking for more answers. There had to be something else. All of it looked pretty normal. Books, homework assignments, a couple empty containers of camembert, and a few loose papers. He picked up one and saw it was an excerpt of a script. A Midsummer Night’s Dream? What was this doing in his bag? They were supposed to start their Shakespeare period in literature class so it wasn’t so out of place.

The assignment was to recreate a scene from one of Shakespeare’s plays. At the top of the page was Adrien’s name as well as Marinette’s. He guessed they must have gotten partnered up. Maybe he should try calling her to figure out what was going on.

He picked up his phone and searched for Marinette’s contact, her name in his phone had been changed to Girlfriend with a bunch of sparkly hearts around it. So apparently she was his girlfriend now, according to his phone at least. He called her but the call went to voicemail. Okay, maybe Alya knows. He called her next and was relieved when she answered.

“Hey lover boy!” Alya was shouting over the same crowd as Nino had been, “Nino said you called. Feeling better already?”

“Alya, you have to tell me what I did today.”

“What?”

“What did I do while I was at school? I can’t remember.”

“How do you not remember?”

“I was zonked out on cold medicine! I don’t even know how I got home let alone how I won a fencing trophy and got a girlfriend in the past few hours.”

“Wow. Just...wow. I knew you were kinda loopy today but I figured you’d remember confessing to Marinette. Girl was over the moon.”

The memories tickled right in the back of Adrien’s brain but he just couldn’t get to them. They had been washed away in a tidal wave of medicine and energy drink. He needed answers. He needed to talk to Marinette. “Are you all still by the Eiffel Tower?” Adrien asked.

“Yeah, you coming out?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there in a few.” Adrien hung up and grabbed his coat. He felt much better physically than he had that morning which was nice. The walk to the Eiffel Tower gave him plenty of time to think about what it was he was missing. There was a significant piece of the puzzle missing, the one piece that would make the rest of the day make sense. If only he could figure out what it was!

He found his friends and everyone cheered when they saw him and pulled him into their circle. Standing with Alya was Marinette. Face alight with a smile and laughing. She turned when she felt Adrien’s eyes on her and her smile grew.

“Hey, I thought I told you to go home and rest. Or was it that you didn’t want to miss out on all the fun?” She grabbed his hands, “I suppose I’ll let it go this time seeing as how today was very taxing and we could do with some fun after that Scarlet Moth fiasco.”

“Yeah, about that,” Adrien said, “Can we talk somewhere a little quieter?”

“Sure,” She pulled on his hands as she led him away from the group. Their classmates whistled and teased as the couple left. When they were far enough away from the noise and people Marinette spoke to him, “What is it you want to talk about?”

“Right um…” Adrien felt heat climbing up his neck, “So I was kinda really sick this morning and I took a bunch of drowsy cold-medicine that I tried to counteract with an energy drink and now I don’t remember anything that happened today. Nothing whatsoever.”

Marinette stared at him, her wide, unblinking baby blue eyes piercing through his skull. “Are you joking?”

“No. I swear I am not. I’ve put together some of what happened but there are some things that I don’t understand like how um, you know, how you and I…” He looked down at his feet, mortified that he had to have this conversation with her. He felt like he was breaking her heart or something.

“You dumb kitty.” Marinette bonked the top of his head, “That explains a lot actually. I’ve always known you to be kinda spacey but today was something else. How is it that when you’re out of it you can still function as a human being?”

“Marinette?” Adrien looked up at her, “What did you call me?”

Marinette sighed and motioned for him to sit down on the bench. “Alright, so this morning when class started…”

*Earlier that day*

“Did that help at all?” Nino asked Adrien as they sat down for class.

“I guess we’ll see,” Adrien almost missed his seat when he went to sit down, “So far it is a rousing success!”

“I really think you should just go home, dude.” Nino shook his head. “I think the caffeine just made this worse.”

“Nah!” Adrien corrected himself and slid himself into his seat, “I am fine! Look how fine I am! I am super fine!”

“Sure are.” Nino snickered, he couldn’t help it. His best friend was essentially high as a kite right now.

Everyone took their seats as Ms. Bustier began the lesson. “For this unit we will be focusing on William Shakespeare. I figured we’d start off with something fun so I want everyone to get into pairs or small groups and perform a scene from any Shakespeare play you would like. Group up and figure out what you’re performing in class today. Go over your lines and we’ll do the actual performances tomorrow. Try not to do really long ones. Have fun!”

Immediately everyone around the room started pairing off. “Hey Adrien,” Alya grabbed his attention, “How’s about you and Marinette team up? You would make a wonderful Romeo and Juliet.”

“But I wanted us to do Romeo and Juliet, babe.” Nino pouted.

“That’s fine, Alya. You two can have Romeo and Juliet.” Marinette told her, her face tinted a cute pink. “Adrien and I can do something else.”

“Hernia!” Adrien shouted, “You can be Hernia and I’ll be Lightsaber!”

“What?” The other three teenagers stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

“You know, that play, the one with the donkey head?” Adrien mimicked large donkey ears on his head.

“Oh! I got it!” Marinette said, “A Midsummer Night’s Dream. You want us to be Hermia and Lysander.”

“Yeah! Those two!” Adrien nodded, “Hernia and Lightsaber.”

“Adrien, sweetie,” Alya looked at him with an amused smile, “Their names are Hermia and Lysander. Not Hernia and Lightsaber.”

“Got it. Got it.” Adrien continued nodding so hard he looked like a bobblehead. “We can be them.”

“Alright, I’ll find us a scene to do.” Marinette started looking for a good scene. They eventually agreed to do the opening scene when Hermia and Lysander plan to runaway together. Marinette was being super giggly through the reading which made Adrien start laughing which made her giggle more until they were in a perpetual loop of laughter.

When class ended everyone got up to move onto the next class. Nino and Alya went on ahead leaving Marinette and Adrien alone still chuckling over their inability to be serious during their scene.

“It may be the fact that I was laughing through the whole thing but I have to confess that I have no idea what Lysander was saying.” Adrien squinted at the text before shoving it in his bag. “Did you?”

“It’s pretty simple actually,” Marinette said, “The couple are lamenting that none of Hermia’s choices that she was given from Theseus let her be with Lysander. Lysander though figures that they don’t have to follow their rules and talks Hermia into leaving Athens with him and getting married where the Athenian laws don’t apply.”

“I wish I could do that.” Adrien sighed.

“Do what?”

“Runaway with the love of my life. I have this whole plan with an island and a hamster but I know you’d never go with me.” He slumped, looking utterly defeated. “Why don’t you wanna go with me?”

“Love--love--love--love of your what? Runaway? Me and you? To an island? With hamsters!” Marinette was stammering as she tried to piece together what it was Adrien had just confessed to her. Was this really happening?

“Oh wait,” Adrien frowned, “I meant my lady.”

“Huh?”

“Ladybug is so pretty…” Adrien murmured dreamily, “She’s so awesome but she only sees me as a tomcat which--just--boo! I love her! Why doesn’t she see that?  My spotty lady! Buggy boo! I love her spots and her eyes and her pigtails…”

His green eyes turned to Marinette and batted a hand against Marinette’s hair. “Just like your pigtails.” He muttered, “You remind me a lot of Ladybug. You can be my Maribug!”

Tomcat? In love with Ladybug? No...there was no way. Surely someone like Adrien couldn’t also be her dorky partner in crime fighting.

“Hey Adrien,” Marinette smiled nervously, “Why do you think that Ladybug thinks you’re a tomcat?”

“Because I am a cat!” He stated proudly. Then his expression soured. “Or as Ladybug says, I’m a bad kitty that needs to stop flirting with her cause they’re working and she likes someone else. It’s sad that she likes someone else. I wish she could like me…”

Yep. Definitely Chat Noir. Although Marinette had never called him a bad kitty before. Chastised him for flirting an inappropriate moments? Yes. But she never berated him. She’d have to have a talk to him later as Ladybug.

WAIT! Chat Noir is Adrien! Adrien is Chat Noir! The love of her life is also her partner! Holy crap! Holy crap! Holy! Crap! Calm down, Marinette! More important things to focus on right now!

She looked over at Adrien who was still pouting like a sad little kitten. She put an arm around his shoulders. “Well I got some good news for you, kitty. I know who Ladybug is really in love with.”

“Really?!” Adrien looked at her with stars in her eyes, “Who? I’m gonna whoop their butt if they mistreat her!”

“Ladybug has a crush on Adrien Agreste.”

“Boo! He sucks!”

“Dummy, Adrien is you. Ladybug likes you.”

“Oh...SHE DOES?!” He nearly screamed and Marinette clamped a hand over his mouth. He moved his head away from her, gaping at the information. “How do you know that?”

“Because that’s who I have a crush on.” Marinette’s cheeks felt entirely too warm. When she looked at Adrien there was absolutely nothing going on behind those big green eyes of his.

“Adrien?” She waved a hand in front of his face? “Goodness, you silly kitty, you are really out of it, huh? Give it a moment. It’ll come to you.”

Marinette started counting in her head. She got to one hundred and seventeen before Adrien finally perked up like a meerkat. “Ladybug?!” He pointed at her.

“There it is.” She ruffled his hair, “I’m guessing you’re happy?”

“I--I--”

BANG!

*Present*

“Then that’s when Scarlet Moth and all the other akumas hit and we went to got fight them. Our future selves showed up to help kick some butt. We kissed. Then we went back to school so you could get to your fencing tournament. You won. You looked pretty tired so I walked you home after but you insisted we stop for boba first so we kinda went on an impromptu boba date. Got you home then I came out to celebrate with everyone about today’s akuma win.” Marinette finished, “Did that fill you in well enough?”

“So you are…”

“Yep.”

“And you like me?”

“Also yep.”

“And I somehow managed to do all this while disassociating to the point of amnesia?”

“Apparently so.”

“I am never mixing Nyquil and Red Bull again.”

“Turned out okay in the end though, right?” Marinette flashed him a bright smile.

As all the information settled within him Adrien smiled back and kissed her. She squeaked for a second not expecting it but eagerly kissed him back. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She giggled. She stood up and pulled him to his feet. “Come on, kitty, let’s go have some fun.”

*The next day*

“Hey bugaboo,” Adrien entered her room holding a hot cup of tea, “Sorry for getting you sick. Probably wasn’t a good idea to have kissed you so many times while I had a cold.”

Marinette blew her nose. “Worth it.”

[fayemarvels]

Changed my mind

Loki x fem!reader

Hey guys so, this is my first Loki fic I really hope you like it. I have a part two planned so if you would like to read it please, let me know.

Summary: Thor is sick and he asked Loki to get him some Midgardian food. He went down to New York, where he met a girl and she helped him to cook food for his brother. Maybe Midgard isn't so bad after all.

! please don't repost my work anywhere without my permission. Thank you.!

Warnings: none, bad writing

Word count: 1.9k

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Loki has always hated Midgard and everything that comes with it. People, traditions, clothes, food, you name it. He always thought Midgardians were below him, less than him and he was sure nothing could change his mind. He never understood what Thor saw in them and their planet.

His brother was also the reason why Loki was here. You see, Thor had the worst type of Asgardian flu and he persuaded Loki to get him some Midgardian food. There was just one problem. Loki didn’t know any Midgardian food and he didn’t have any books about the planets’ food.

That was why he was in New York, to get a recipe book. He wandered around the New York streets and people were looking at him very weary. To be honest, he did understand why. He tried to take over their planet after all. After about 40 minutes of walking around, he finally found a bookstore tucked away in a quiet alleyway. Loki swung the door open and the bell above his head rang.

After a few moments of silence, he heard a soft

“Coming, wait a moment please.” from the back of the store. In a few seconds, a girl came from the back looking around the store for the new customer.

“Hello welcome!” she greeted cheerfully.

“How can I help you?” when she looked at Loki she froze, but then just shook her head. He looked around and informed her.

“I need a recipe book with some of the best Midgardian foods.” She nodded quietly and walked from behind the counter. The girl hurried to the shelves full of books and ran her finger across the spines. She stopped and took out a thick book with a picture of pancakes with chocolate and some fruit on the cover.

“This is what you are looking for.“ she informed him and handed him the book. He took it from her hands and flipped through a few pages. Loki silently informed.

”I will take it.” She smiled and walked toward the cash register. She rang him up and he paid for it. But couldn’t help herself.

“Excuse me but, can I ask you something?” she asked and he turned around with an annoyed look on his face.

“Why do you want to cook our food? Didn’t you hate our planet?” he rolled his eyes and decided to answer. He had all the time in the galaxy.

“My brother is sick and he asked me to get some Midgardian food that isn’t fast food.” He took a breath and decided to continue.

“I never ate Midgardian food so I needed some references. I will conjure them up with my magic.”

“I don’t think it will taste really good if you conjure it up with your magic.” She confessed and he looked very offended.

“It’s not that I don’t think you are incapable I just think it would be better if you cooked it with your hands.” He looked at her confused and shook his head.

“And why would I do that hmm? Tell me, little mortal.” She looked really nervous but managed to get out some words.

“I think it will make him feel better if it would be made with love.” He scoffed and looked at her.

“What love? There isn’t any.“ She shook her head.

”If there wasn’t any, you wouldn’t be here.” he looked to the side with a weird look on his face.

“If you want I can help you help to cook it.” She tried to sound confident but he could hear she was nervous.

"Why would you want to help me?” he asked and she replied.

“I don’t have anything to do and I really love cooking.” She smiled at him and he narrowed his eyes.

“Fine, you can help me.” He decided and she laughed.

“Ok, my shift ends in about 2 hours so you can come then. Pick some meals to cook in the meanwhile. Now go!”

“Wait! I don’t know what to call you.” He said and she replied quickly.

“It’s (Y/N). go before I change my mind about helping you.” He just shook his head and walked out of the store. ===== When (Y/N) turned off the lights in the shop, Loki was just coming into the ally way.

“So you ready to learn to cook?” she questioned and he nodded.

“Let’s get this done with so I can go back to Asgard and never come back here again.” She rolled her eyes and grabbed his wrist and started to pull him towards her home.

“So my apartment is extremely messy and I’m sorry for that.” She confessed and Loki only grumbled.

“You midgardians, so fucking messy.” She glared at him and slowed down a little bit. They walked in silence and (Y/N) decided to spark up a conversation.

“What did you pick?” he looked at her confused.

”To cook. You were supposed to pick some meals to cook.” He opened his mouth in realization and spoke up.

“Well, I picked something for beginners so we wouldn’t have to spend hours in the kitchen.” She nodded and he continued.

“Some vegetable soup and pancakes with whipped whip cream, chocolate, and fruit.”

“Ok, I have everything for these things so we successfully avoided going into the supermarket.” He looked at her puzzled and she just continued.

“The seniors in this area are crazy. If their life depended on it, they will fight with you until death just to get the things that are on sale.” He chuckled and she smiled in his direction. ‘He has a pretty smile’ she thought but then shook her head. When they came into her apartment she kicked her shoes off and tossed her keys into the bowl on the dresser in her hallway. She shrugged off her coat and walked into her kitchen.

“Nox baby? Where are you?” she shouted into her apartment and Loki looked at her weirdly. In about a minute he could hear a quiet sound of legs scratching on the wooden floor.

“Hope you like cats.” She turned around to look at Loki and he smiled awkwardly. When Nox came into the kitchen he rubbed against (Y/N)’s feet and she crouched down.

Before she could pet him he ran towards Loki to inspect the man he has never seen before. He sniffed at his legs a little before Loki crouched down and put his finger out for the cat to sniff. (Y/N) just watched the interaction in awe.

When Loki looked up he saw her looking at him and he quickly said. “He’s not that bad.” But (Y/N) knew he secretly already had a soft spot for him.

“Okay I’m going to change into more comfortable clothes and we can start.” She left the room and came back in a couple of minutes wearing a tank top and black sweatpants.

“You want some clothes as well? I have some from when my friend was sleeping over.” He nodded and she went to pick them up.

“They will probably be a bit small because he isn’t as giant as you are.” She explained and he took her from her hands and went to change into the bathroom. When he came out she was already taking out all the utensils they will need. He tossed his clothes onto the couch and walked over to her in the kitchen.

“You have something I can tie my hair with?” he asked and she gave him the hair tie from her wrist.

”I always keep one on my wrist at all times, in case anyone needs one.” She informed him and he smiled. He put his hair in a bun and waited for her instructions.

“First cut the vegetables in cubes and put them into the pot. We are doing the healthier version so we won’t use flour.” He tried to keep up but was already failing miserably. When he cut up the carrots and potatoes and stirred them in the pot for a while, they put the water into it, and let it cook.

“Ok, now take out a plastic bowl from that cabinet and I’ll take out our ingredients.” She pointed to the cabinet and Loki complied. He never would’ve thought he would be taking orders from a Midgardian. He came back with a bowl and they put some eggs, flour, milk, and sugar into it. She handed him the whisk and he looked at her confused.

“Stir it I will be right back.” She went into a cabinet to take out some sunflower oil and a pan and put it on the stove to heat it up.

“You want to flip them?” she asked and he shook his head yes.

“I will flip the first one because it’s always messed up, no matter what you do.” She informed him and he looked very interested in all of the new information about cooking. She showed him how to flip pancakes and when to flip them and she went to check up on the soup.

She was washing the dishes from the cooking and their dinner when she heard a quiet snore. She went to look into her living room and she saw Loki and Nox sleeping on the armchair. She took a blanket and covered both of them with it and went back into the kitchen.

When she was done cleaning up, she put the newly cooked food into some containers and went to sleep in her bed. Before she did that, she checked up on Loki one more time and turned on a light on the other side of her living room in case he woke up and didn’t know where he was.

She woke up to the sound of quiet cursing. She rushed out of her bedroom to see Loki standing in the middle of the kitchen looking through cabinets.

“Good morning, what are you looking for?” she asked and he turned around looking alarmed.

“I was looking for some tea bags.” He informed her and she just shook her head and walked towards a shelf that contained her collection of tea.

”Here what kind do you want. I have fruit tea, green tea. Maybe black tea?” they both decided on black tea and went to sit in the living room.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asked and she just shrugged.

“My cat was sleeping on you. Didn’t want him to wake up.” She said casually and he looked at the cat, who was fast asleep on the window.

“I… I wanted to thank you.” He started nervously.

“You helped me so much and it was really nice of you.” She looked to the ground and replied.

“It was no big deal. Honestly.” Loki stood up, looked around, and (Y/N) could read from his expression it was time for him to go.

“I’m going to heat up the food and prepare it so you can go.” He nodded and they both walked into the kitchen. =====

When she prepared everything she put the boxes on top of each other and waited for him to come out of the bathroom. He came out, handed her the borrowed clothes, and looked at her.

“Thank you again. For your help.” She waved her hand.

“It was no big deal, really.”

“You know, maybe your planet isn’t so bad after all.” He confessed and she put a hand on his shoulder.

“If you want to come and visit earth you can always come here and sleep over.” He smiled and nodded. He walked out of her apartment onto the street, looked into her window, waved at her, and just like that, he was gone.

He always thought that nothing could change his mind about Midgard but, maybe he found a reason he will learn to like the planet.

She changed his mind.

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so, thanks for reading my work, hope you enjoyed reading it. if you think I could improve something about my work, please share it with me. Also if you think I can make my writing more inclusive, please share that with me as well.

-Faye xxx

[jimlingss]

Moirai [2]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

➜ Words: 6.2k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

You turn the corner and dart down the hall.   “My lady!”   There’s a parade of maids chasing after you, Joan included in the bunch, and a frightened guard whose metal armour clanks with each movement. You grin, swinging your wooden sword around at them with a ‘huzzah!’. Pretending you’re a champion, you twirl around the pillar with one arm. But even with your theatrics, they’re still meters away and out of reach.   “Please! Come back! You have your dance lessons!”   You stick out your tongue. “Then catch me!”   It’s been one full year since you’ve started learning swordsmanship and admittedly, it’s become one of your most favourite times of the day. It beats sitting at a desk with the old fart droning on and on about dumb things you already know or having your posture criticized over and over again during dance lessons.    You’re frankly getting tired of having information and insults shoved down your throat.    Sword lessons are the only time you can be out in the sun and do whatever you want. You can tell that you’re improving too. It’s a pain in the ass to get the guards to take you seriously, but sometimes the tips and tricks they give are pretty helpful.   It’s fun.   Especially when there are people desperately chasing you.   “P-Please!” one of the girls cries out, running out of breath.   One of the best perks about being a five-year old is having endless energy in your body. And you’ll happily take advantage of that while you still can. “Pirates never give up! Argh, matey!”   But your play time is unfortunately interrupted by a deadpanning voice—   “What are you doing?”    The familiar sharp voice sends shivers up your spine and you freeze.   Your parade halts on their heels as well, immediately dropping their heads to the ground and placing one hand over the other reverently. “Your grace.”   “What is going on here?” Your mother’s footsteps echo through the marble hall, ball gown dragged behind her as her scrutinizing eyes lay on the help, the knight and then to you.   “I’m so sorry,” Joan is quick to confess, “The lady refuses to attend her dance practices.”   And she’s quick to throw you under the bus.   If you could, you’d stick up your middle finger at her.   Your mother turns, her glare laid upon you. You brace yourself.   “This is not how the future Devereux head should act.” Her voice is above a slight murmur, yet chilling and heavy. Her narrowed eyes have dimmed as they look upon you. She doesn’t need to yell to be frightening. “The Chevalier household has their youngest daughter playing piano and they recently went to the castle to show her talent. How will you compete, Anastasia?”   “I—”   “Or will you continue to tarnish our family’s name by being a child?”   You are a child. Technically.    The woman looms over you, her demeanour imposing and the burden of the household’s name lays upon your shoulders. You can’t help but feel small. It’s no wonder Anastasia took the Prince’s kindness as love and fell for him so quickly. Moments with him were her moments of freedom.   You stay quiet, solemn, knowing it’s not worth arguing. Your eyes instead focus on a younger maid who’s silently snickering to herself and before you can make note for later, your vision blurs.   “From now on, your swordsmanship lessons will be retracted until you’ve caught up with the rest of your lessons,” she says while looking straight ahead, not sparing you a glance. “The only places you are to be permitted in for the next month is your room and the study—”   It’s unfair. A punishment that doesn’t fit the crime.   But your voice doesn’t come out of your mouth.   The world tilts on an axis. It swirls. Your head is lightweight.    And before you could figure out what’s happening, there’s a shrill cry for you — “my lady!” — and you feel yourself falling back before the universe becomes pitch black. An abyss of nothing.   //   “Why did she faint?!”   When you come to, your first thought is that you’ve died. Again.   Illness. Heart attack. Maybe from the plague.    Fuck.   It’s frightening and you feel an urge to cry, knowing that you yet again didn’t complete your goal of living a long and fruitful life. That the years spent fighting for your survival were ultimately useless. But then you hear far away voices and realize your fingers can twitch. The soft mattress underneath you registers soon after and it sinks in that you’re in your room, bedridden.   “Well….your grace…”   “On with it! I didn’t bring you here to waste my time!”   “Herrick…”   Oh right. It’s the Eve of the Solar Festival, isn’t it? A day where commoners celebrate the empire and wish for its everlasting prosperity. You remember since you’ve never gone before. Around this same time last year and the year before that, you fell ill in the exact same way — cold, chest aching, dizzy spells.    It’s odd. Usually you aren’t so weak and yet somehow, you always get better in the morning once the festival is over. You don’t remember this ever being mentioned in the original game either. Or at least Anastasia never said anything about it and she would’ve totally milked it for the Prince’s attention if she could’ve. But maybe it’s an outside detail. Something the game developers were going to include in a future DLC.   “We don’t know what’s happening to the lady, your grace,” the healer says.   Your father bellows from his stomach, “Excuse me?!”   “H-Her pulse reads well and she has no fever either. I-It’s a very unusual case.”   In your half-consciousness, you perceive the bitter silence.    “Heal her at all costs.” Your father’s footsteps fade and your mother sighs.   You wish you couldn’t hear. Otherwise, it would be easy to demonize the pair as unsympathetic, psychopathic parents who only consider their daughter a chess piece. You’re sure the only reason they’re expressing so much concern is because you are the only heir after all. They really have no future if Anastasia dies.    But it’s still hard to quell the hope that they actually care for your wellbeing.    Still, you wish you couldn’t hear their desperation. It wouldn’t have to be so conflicting. Or bittersweet. The only time they show an ounce of their affection is when you’re on your deathbed.   You muster the strength to open your eyes once everyone’s left the room.    Most likely, you’ll live through this. You still have yet to have any of the game’s encounters or even start. Anastasia was alive for most of it, enough to terrorize the main character, so you’ll live too.   Shit. When does the game start again?   The opening scene was right before the debutante ball was held for all the girls in the empire.   You count on your fingers — give or take, there’s twelve or thirteen years left….   But you remember from the wiki fan page that Anastasia became engaged to the Crown Prince when they were kids.    Oh god. If you weren’t so weak, you’d roll over and scream into your pillow.   There’s an unsettling feeling boiling in the pit of your stomach.   No matter how much effort you put forth, you don’t know how you’re going to avoid that arrangement.

Turns out, it’s unavoidable.   It begins two years later at seven years old, the D-day that you were dreading, the first domino that begins all the others.   “No! Please!” The entire household is stunned at how you’ve grabbed onto the Duke’s leg and wrapped your limbs around his appendage, practically dead weight and not allowing him to move a single step.    All your life, you’ve kept a good amount of distance between your parents — never daring to overstep your boundaries or sass them back no matter how much you wanted to. It’s more trouble than it’s worth anyway and it’s better to play on their good side.   But you’ve thrown in the towel. This is your last desperate attempt.   “I’ll be good, I promise I’ll go to all my dance lessons and all my history lessons and all my math lessons. Please, papa! Please!” You’re practically crying aloud. You wish someone would help you. “I don’t want to go to the Royal Palace!”   Edith is shaking her head while Joan is mortified at the sidelines.   Your mother’s expression is twisted in disgust while your dad is wholly aghast. Hey — it’s not like you wanted to do this either, alright?!   But your pleas fall on deaf ears. To them, it’s merely the whining of a child. A temper tantrum.   “My lady, please stop this,” Joan harshly whispers and rushes to pry your grip off of the Duke’s leg. Several others come too, maids and kitchen staff alike. Your strength is no match for theirs.   “My stomach hurts!”   Your father has no sympathy. “We’ve delayed enough times, Anastasia. If we postpone the meeting with the King again, it would be shameful to our house. Now get up.”   He’s done hearing the excuses — and while you’d usually internally call him out for being an ass, the moment you heard he wanted to take you to the palace, you did claim you have a fever.    Then you claimed diarrhea. A cough. Hid for several hours.   You’re actually surprised you managed to delay it for this long.   “There’s no choice, my lady,” Joan mutters quickly as she fixes the ribbons in your pretty hairdo. “You must go with the Duke today.”   Deep down, you know it’s true. You’ll be pulled along anyhow.    But you wish they would understand that this is a matter of life and death for you.   Your silence is a sign of raising the white flag and Joan retracts back to her place as your dad turns to leave the manor. He adjusts his hat as he’s escorted to the carriage and you’re about to trail after him, but your mother stops you.   You expect her to reprimand you, give an earful of what you should and shouldn’t do. But you’re surprised when she lowers herself down to your eye level.    She catches you off guard when she reaches out to button up your pea coat, attentive and careful in each swift movement. “This is a really important meeting, Anastasia. Do you understand?”    Her voice is soft, quiet enough that no one else aside from you can hear. You nod.   “You must be on your best behaviour. Your father, me, all the workers here, and the whole House of Devereux will be relying on you.” Wow. Way to not pressure a seven year old. “Today is the day that might change our lives for the better.”   As she finishes buttoning, her hands stroke your shoulders down your arms. The Duchess smiles gingerly, tiredly. For a moment, you feel guilty for being so selfish — for prioritizing your own survival and desires when everyone else was quite literally relying on you for their livelihood.   You find yourself swallowing hard before nodding again.    You get into the carriage without another word.    Well fuck. What now?   A part of you wishes you ran away when you had the opportunity — even though there was a good chance you would’ve been kidnapped and sold at an underground market or gone hungry or be shipped back right to your parents. Ashea, like any other place, doesn’t take kindly to wandering children.   But at least then you would’ve had more control and choice.    You know this isn’t just a fun field trip to the palace. The only reason the Duke and the King would meet like this is to seek an engagement. Your engagement with the Prince’s.    Half an hour later, you peek out the carriage windows to see the castle at the horizon.   Stone walls, seven towers, lookouts, the empire’s flag fluttering in the breeze — it’s a beautiful place with rolling green hills and beds of flowers that wind up the path. It’s a hundred times more grand than the Devereux estate and ten times the size too, stretching across for miles. But it’s also the location where all of it happens.    The beginning. The climax. The end.   “Anastasia.”   Your attention is taken when your father steps off the carriage. You take the servant's hand and hop down onto the cobblestone, following your father closely. He greets an important person or two and you lower your head to them in greeting as they complement how mannerly you are.   The two of you are led through open, lavish halls full of life-sized portraits and marble statues, and then through the garden. Even in both your lifetimes, you’ve never seen so many different kinds of flowers and vivid hues in one place.    Pansies. Orchids. Marigold.    Magenta. Lavender. Marmalade.   But you don't get to admire it for long. Not when the gazebo comes into sight.    A man with straight posture, dark hair streaked with gray to show his age and deep set eyes sits at the rounded table. Even with the absence of his crown, his status is shown through his navy cape ornate with golden swirls held together by an emerald jewel embellished with the royal crest. Wrinkles around his mouth, he has a fiercely stern expression until he cordially smiles as your father approaches.    Beside him is a spitting image, a smaller boy slumped in the white chair, visibly bored.   “Herrick! Good to see you, my old friend.”   “Your Majesty.” Your father bows and you follow suit, giving a curtsy and lowering your head. But at the same time, you can’t help peeking at the boy. His eyes meet yours and you look away.   Oh fuck.   It’s the first meeting between the Prince and Anastasia.    You’re sure for her it was impactful, nerve wracking, life changing. And it’s like that for you as well, but not so much on the positive side.   “Please, the formalities. Is this the daughter you've been speaking so highly about?”   “Yes, this is my only child, Anastasia.”   You plaster on a perfect, little smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”   The King hums. “A very lovely child indeed. The Devereux House is blessed.”   The Duke smiles. “Thank you.”   “Please sit and make yourselves welcome.” The King gestures and the servants nearby scurry over, pulling out your chairs, pouring tea and placing plates of biscuits on their table. In a blink, they’ve finished and you can’t help but muse how much better they are than the servants back at home. The King smiles and looks at his son. “Jungkook, don’t you have anything to say?”   “Nice to meet you,” he deadpans before his doe eyes wander out to the gardens.    Jungkook is wholly disinterested in you and this entire affair — you don’t blame him. You bet any seven year old would be itching to get out of their seat. But looking at him, you can’t believe you liked him so much in the game. You even had him as your phone wallpaper for a few months.   But from the perspective of Anastasia and knowing your outcome and your impending demise, he’s not even cute as a kid.   If anything, sitting across from him stresses you the fuck out.   You weren’t supposed to even meet him. This was the exact opposite of your battle plans. And yet the engagement is going to happen whether you like it or not. The greatest irony of all is that you know he’ll end up falling in love with the main character anyway instead of you. Aka. the orphaned girl who ends up adopted by a baron.   This whole ordeal only serves to make you suffer.   The only way you could sabotage this meeting now is by slamming the teapot over Prince Jungkook’s head. And that would either get you thrown in jail for treason and executed or sent back to the Devereux estate on house arrest where your mother would kill you.   Oh god. It’s death either way.   “Are the sweets not to your liking?”   It takes a second for you to register that the King is looking at you. That he’s speaking to you.   You go wide-eyed, realizing you haven’t had a bite of the cakes, the biscuits or sipped on any tea. You’ve completely tuned out their conversation. But he’s been watching you and Jungkook from the corner of his eye, assessing your interactions closely.    Your palms go clammy as you open your mouth before closing it.    “She’s just shy,” your dad swiftly informs with a polite smile. It’s a complete lie, but one the royal monarch believes.   “Ah. We shouldn’t bore them with adult talk then.” The man turns to his son. “Jungkook, why don’t you go off and play with Anastasia here?”   “Okay,” he mumbles and slides off his chair.   You follow suit, a bit relieved that you were dismissed from the overly formal atmosphere.   The two of you go deeper into the gardens until the gazes of your father and the King’s fade from view. Jungkook is wearing a white ensemble with a cape which he dirties with the way he’s kicking rocks in his path. He seems burdened that you’re beside him.   “What do you like playing?” he asks.   You’re perplexed on how to answer. You’re not sure how you should play with an actual seven year old. Then again, you like to run away from the maids and swing your sword around on your down time. But that’s just because you like their reactions.   “Sword fighting.”   Jungkook blanches as if he just bit into a lemon. “What kind of girl plays with swords?”   Suddenly, you’re overwhelmed with an urge to kick the royal prince right in his shin.    But as the annoyance floods you, an epiphany comes along with it — if you can’t avoid Jungkook, maybe it’s time to switch strategies. Maybe you can start sowing the seeds of your future survival right here, right now. If one day, he’ll be condemning you of countless crimes and looking down at you as an evil villain, maybe you can turn his perception in the opposite direction.   Harmless. Overbearingly nice. Arrows that practically point ‘I’M NOT A THREAT WHATSOEVER!’.    You’re a genius.   You force the highest pitched giggle you can. “Really?”   Jungkook kicks another rock. “Girls have flimsy arms and trip every time you touch them.”   Ah. The ancient version of: girls have cooties and so you should stay away from them. Alright, alright. You can work with this.   “What do you like playing, Your Highness?”   “Anything that’s not with girls.”   You pause and laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound too stiff.   Jungkook suddenly lifts his head and turns to you with the swivel of his heel. You stop as well and his index finger juts right in your face. “Since I’m the prince, I’ll have mercy on you. We can play servant and king.”   “What’s servant and king?”   “I’m the king.” His thumb pokes himself and then he’s back to pointing right between your eyes again. “You’re the servant. You have to follow me and all my orders or off with your head!”   What a little shit.   How is this going to be any fun for you?!   But you draw an enormous grin on your face, left eye twitching in the process. “Sounds like fun, Your Highness!”   He strolls off. “Let’s go, dumb dumb.”   Your teeth grit and you inhale a deep breath. It hurts your pride to be insulted by a literal seven year old, but you can handle it. When it comes to life or death, you’ll easily befriend the hero.   “Fetch that stick, peasant!”   The prince points at the distance and looks at you expectedly.   Your teeth grit. But you muster a smile and dash forward.   When it comes to life or death, you’ll befriend the hero……….probably.   “Here you go, Your Highness.”   You present the stick to him with both hands and the brat smirks. A rush of air leaves his nose and then he takes the stick. You’re not sure what to expect, but your entire body freezes when he hurls it as far as his arms can go. He points between your brows a second later. “Go get it!”   Motherfucker. “Yes!”    Once Jungkook’s tired of having you fetch like a dog, you trail after him closely. The green hedges are triple your size, acting like corridors of the garden before they open up to certain areas filled with beds of flowers or a fountain. Some paths are unpaved, so you listen to the crunch of rocks underneath his shoes amidst the quiet.    When you’re not out of breath and running at his command, it finally sinks in that it’s the first time you’re with a main character of the game. For the seven years of this lifetime thus far, there was only really you. Your parents were supporting characters at best who just took the opportunity to slyly diss the main heroine a few times at royal gatherings. But other than that, you’re currently facing the backside of someone you know a lot about.   Who he will become. What his future holds. What his desires are.   You pipe up, “Prince Jungkook—”   “That’s Your Highness, peasant!”   You clench your jaw. “Your Highness…”   “What?”   You quicken your steps until you’re beside him and he turns his head. “I’ll support you forever if you want to fall in love with anyone! I don’t care about being the crown princess or the queen!”    For good measure, you flash a wink and a thumbs up.   “What?” His boyish face is twisted up in disgust. “Why would a peasant be a queen?”   You hold in your sigh. “I’m just saying. If we ever get engaged or something, it can always be annulled when we’re older. So feel free to love on, Your Highness. Make love, not war!”   Your words completely fly over Jungkook’s head.   His face reads that he has no clue what you’re talking about.   And he turns away from you. “You’re weird.”   You scoff.    You’re not sure how you can become friendly with a seven year old when you’re internally twenty years older than he is. If you had chocolate on you, you’d use that as a bargaining chip. But clearly, you only have your body, brain and the surroundings at the moment….   What do seven year old boys like?   What do they like?   As you scan your surroundings, your eye catches something in the bushes. You stop and get closer.   At the same time, Jungkook realizes you’re not following him anymore and turns around. “What are you doing, peasa—” His words are cut short by a shrill shriek of absolute terror.   Your brows furrow and you thrust your hand closer to him. “It’s a ladybug.”   The tiny red and black polka dotted bug is crawling in your hand. Jungkook screams again.   He’s stumbling back, nearly tripping onto his butt, doe eyes reflected with complete horror as if you just chopped off his mom’s head. “Get that thing away from me!” his voice cracks up and down two different octaves and realizing his weakness, you grin.   You know your plan was to seem as harmless as possible, but it’s just too much fun teasing him.   “What thing, Your Highness? Your servant is merely showing you a small forest creature.”   “No! Stop!”   He scrambles and starts running away.   You chase after him while giggling manically. “Prince Jungkook! Where are you going!”   “Get the bug away from me!”   He turns over his shoulder with eyeballs nearly falling out of their sockets, face bright red, and you take the opportunity to toss the ladybug at him. Jungkook’s shrieks echo, pitched and earsplitting.   You’re forced to stop with how hard you’re laughing and by then, he’s ran for the hills, completely gone from sight.   Oh god. You can’t believe he’s so scared.    You can’t believe you were so scared — he’s just a kid.   Your giggles taper off as you wander the gardens by yourself. It’s freeing to stroll at your own pace without a brat demanding you to fetch sticks or barking at you to do this and that. It’s a chance to finally admire the surroundings.   You’re sure the first time Anastasia saw the castle, it became her dream home. The place is similar to the aesthetic background graphics of the game and it was always described as beautiful by all the characters. And it really is that way.   But this is also the place of her demise and possibly yours.    You’re sure the only time you’ll be able to enjoy the palace and be this carefree is right now.   You’re admiring the blooming carnations, peony and roses as you turn the corner. The figure standing by the sprouting fountain doesn’t register until after a delayed moment and your eyes lift to see a woman — mysterious in her gray dress. It’s simple attire, but the fabrics are layered on top of one another, light enough that they drape down and flow to the breeze. Her brunette hair is tied into a bun and as if she feels the pressure of your eyes, her bright irises turn towards you.   You realize you’re staring and you blink several times, approaching her politely.    She pulls her charcoal shawl closer to her and smiles. The light wrinkles around her kind eyes crease. “Are you lost, child?”   You shake your head. “No. I’m just looking.”   She crouches down to match your height, gazing at you tenderly. “Where are your parents?”   “My dad’s talking to the King.” You point off in the distance as curiosity eats at you. She doesn’t look like an ordinary worker but not a visitor of the castle either. “I’m Anastasia.”   She searches your expression as if she’s endeared by you. “That’s a beautiful name.”   “Thanks! Who’re you?”   She’s soft-spoken, voice above a quiet murmur, “My name is Erena Robane.”   You frown. The name rings a bell. “Lady Robane?”   “No.” Her laugh tinkles. “I’m no lady.”    Before you can press your mind any further and pick apart your brain at why her name sounds so familiar, she reaches into the small pouch she was carrying and hands you a wrapped piece of candy. “Would you like one?”   Your eyes light up at the pink square. “Yes, please!”    You know better, as an internal twenty seven year old, than to take candy from strangers, but the Duke and Duchess never give you any sweets. So you’ll happily take what you can.   Erena smiles and drops the treat into your outstretched palm.   Not wanting to risk getting it confiscated by Edith, Joan or your mother if you brought it home, you quickly unwrap it and throw it into your mouth. It’s peppermint and it’s pretty damn good.   The woman looks at you patiently, waiting for a reaction, so you give her a thumbs up and a “Yummy!”   She laughs faintly. “Do you like candy?”   “Yep!” You hold out both hands as if you’re trick-or-treating. “Can I have another one, please?”   Might as well seize the chance while you can. It’s a dog-eat-dog world.    “You have very good manners.” She smiles, taking another out of her endless pouch and dropping it in your hand. Oh man, you’re starting to really like this lady. “My son likes chocolate, but I only managed to get candy for today.”   You chew the hard candy in your cheek, crunching down on it. You hope it rots your teeth and makes Edith’s life a living nightmare when she has to deal with it. “Your son?”   Her lips part to speak. But she’s interrupted—   “Mom?”   By sheer coincidence and coincidence itself, a boy with floppy, brown hair turns the corner of the garden. Thin lips, but chubby cheeks and bright eyes of deep mocha. You’ve known him the second your eyes have laid on him. A younger form of the person you fear most.   Taehyung.   You gasp and immediately spin around, hoping he didn’t see you, pretending you didn’t see him.   “I have to go now!”    Before Taehyung’s mom can utter another word, you run away. You don’t notice how Taehyung slows as well, brows furrowed at your receding form.   To see Jungkook is one thing. But to see Taehyung, the one who will use, coerce and lead you to your doom, is another. Jungkook handed down your judgment, but Taehyung is the one who led you there.   He’s the villain.   //   “You did decently,” your mother informs a few days after the whole affair. “We might have to go to the palace more often from now on.”   You nod, unable to dwell in her approval, mind still lost in a daze.    Taehyung — a half prince born a year before Jungkook. He has the blood of a royal with his father as the King, but his mother is merely a palace maid. You remember that he seeks revenge for her death after she’s poisoned by the jealous Queen.   But if she’s still alive, that means it’ll happen soon.   This year.    Springtime.    You’re slowly recalling the details of the event, the catalyst that begins Taehyung’s descent into madness, how he became the game’s villain. But you can’t involve yourself. You just can’t.   You shouldn’t have met any of them in the first place.   You shouldn’t get entangled in their story, in their lives. If you want to live, if you want to survive, you have to avoid Taehyung at all costs. So you can’t. You can’t. Can’t.   A day passes as you focus on your studies.   You can’t.   Another two days goes by, six meals eaten.   Can’t—   On the seventh, your silver spoon clanks noisily against the porcelain bowl, slipping from your grasps, dropping downwards in your deep trance that throbs your temples. Joan turns at the ruckus and you look at her, already standing up.   “I have to go to the castle.”   The guilt eating at you has won its battle.    “Pardon me?”   “Today. Right now.” You rush out of the room and down the hall, determination set in your strides. Maybe you can avoid this. Maybe if you do, he won’t become the game’s villain. Then he won’t be a threat to you, and you won’t be a threat to anyone. You’ll live and so will his mom who’s done nothing wrong.   The maid struggles to catch up to you. “My lady! Please! Wait! What do you mean?”   “I forgot something really important!”   “Y-You can’t just go. My lady! You must ask permission from the Duke and Duchess!”   “There’s no time to.” You’ve never been more serious and somber. There isn’t an inch of mischief, no childish selfishness. Twenty seven years has amounted to this very moment. And you use your status as the Duke’s daughter to command the girl. “Come with me. If the Duke or Duchess gets mad, I’ll take the blame.”   Joan sighs, annoyed as she looks around as if someone else could reason with you. But as you turn to her, looking her dead in the eye, she shifts on her feet and hesitantly calls for a carriage.   You’re in it before you can blink again.   There must be time. There hasn’t been any news yet. No reports of a death in the castle.   You can warn him. You can avoid this tragedy.    “We’re here, my lady,” Joan informs, peering out the window at the enormous stone walls and towers looming high above the clouds. The carriage doors open and she guides you out.    Your feet land onto the cobblestone.    But there isn’t any welcome. No guards that ask what your business here is. No servant passing by.   Instead, there’s chaos in the distance.    Your head whips to the noise and Joan shouts as you dash off towards it. Yet no one notices you in the midst of the pandemonium. No one would pay mind to a small child. You’re left to linger in the open halls, butlers that quickly walk past, maids whispering amongst themselves—   “Did you hear?”   Your head turns towards two girls.   “The King’s mistress just died!”   You came a moment too late.

No one cries.   The arrangement is short and unluxurious, the bare minimum of what would be acceptable for a royal family. A priestess in front drones on impassively about the afterlife, but as you look around, no one grieves. After all, they wouldn’t shed tears for a mere maid.    This is merely a charade to quell away scandalous rumors and to give nobles an excuse to come to the castle and be acknowledged.   You’re overwhelmed in black, a tulle skirt and puffed sleeves. Your parents stand on either side of you, your father in a jacket with the house’s emblem and your mother with a veil covering the right side of her face. Like many others, your family has come for appearance sakes.   But for you, it’s different.   The woman inside the closed casket has shown you a kindness that you so seldom receive.   And because of your hesitation, because of your self-preservation and selfishness, this happened.   Once the burial ceremony is over, your parents mingle amongst the nobles, laughing cordially behind gloved hands as you follow after them and cutesy. It feels like you’re a show pony, brought around to show what the future of the Devereux looks like.   But after a while, you manage to slip away from the scrutiny.    And by sheer coincidence and coincidence only, you find him.   At first it’s the noise of heart wrenching sobs. It’s unrestrained wails and choked hiccups in between that attracts your attention. You twist through the familiar hedge corridors and the moment you turn the corner, your eyes lift to a small figure underneath an oak tree.    He sits alone. He cries to himself.    The boy with floppy, brown hair has his knees pulled together. He incessantly rubs at his eyes as if that alone could stop the tears that well and pour. He cries enough for the tens of people at the funeral, substituting their apathy with his anguish. His entire body wracks and the moment he whimpers “m-mom” in-between, it’s shaking to your core.    This is the beginning. The start of his path of destruction.   In this entire castle that stretches across the horizon, only his mother ever loved him. The half-prince. The Forgotten Prince. The one dirtied by regular red blood, not blue enough for the golden crown.   Taehyung mourns, vision blurred by his grief.   But as he rubs his eyes with his small fists, black shoes appear between the gaps of his hands.   He looks up. Your arm is extended in front of him.    Taehyung looks down to your folded, pink handkerchief. He looks stunned for a moment, as if he’s surprised that there was someone here. That someone actually heard him. That someone came.   He takes your handkerchief and sniffles.   “I’m sorry,” you murmur.    Sorry that she passed away, that he has to endure this, that you didn’t save her when you could’ve.   This isn’t just a game you’re playing anymore. All these people aren’t just characters.   You’re living a new life. And all these people have emotions, desires, thoughts of their own.   You’re not sure how you can comfort Taehyung. What you can say to make it better. “Your mother loved you a lot. I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to be crying so much by yourself.”   He hiccups, snivelling uncontrollably. “B-But if I don’t cry for her, who will?”   You don’t know what to say.   Tears continue to slip down his cheeks and as you linger awkwardly, you decide there isn’t much that you can say. So you sit beside him. You sit underneath the canopy of the tree and branches of rustling leaves, on the soft bed of grass, looking out at the garden.    This is all you can do.   You don’t notice the way Taehyung looks up in-between his mourning, glossy eyes pinpointed on the profile of your face.    The pair of you sit next to one another in the silence of his sniffles until it levels. Until he can breathe again—   “Anastasia!”   There’s a sharp call of your name, one that can only belong to your mother. You immediately come to your feet again as if a dog whistle has been blown. But as you hurry away, you turn over your shoulder. Your eyes connect with Taehyung’s brown ones, and for a moment you slow.   You leave a second later.   You twist down the hedges and turn the corner, nearly bumping straight into her. She looks down at you with her brows furrowed. “Where did you go?”   You smile. “I got lost.”   It’s futile. You know it now.   Trying to avoid the three that will lead you to your demise is like trying to wish you’d suddenly vanish off these lands. You know it won’t be the last time that you see Taehyung. It won’t be the last of Jungkook either. Or whoever the heroine will be. It seems like the more you try to run, the more you inadvertently become involved. But you’ll hold your head up high and face whatever is to come head on.

[iamjungkooked]

Mr. Min

↳Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

↳Genre: Romance (all fluff)

↳Word count: 4.7K

↳Rating: G

↳Warnings: None

↳Summary:

Min Yoongi is the asshole boss who keeps you late at work every night. But then you find out why and it gives you the upper hand.

A/N: I hope you guys like it!! Finally wrote something less than 5k. It has been a while for sure. Cross posting this from my other blog @iamtaekooked​. You guys have been following me on here even though i am like never on here its crazy. I LOVE YOU ALL. THANK YOU SO MUCH. I AM GOING TO TRY POSTING MORE IF MY LIFE LETS ME.

Your hand begins cramping as you finish writing the report for asshole number one Min Yoongi. Writing a report is easy, but having to write it by hand is what makes you want to strangle him. The tiny blue desk clock strikes 11 pm and once again you lose out on the opportunity to live your life. At this point, you have lost track of how many times you have stayed late at the office while your friends enjoy their weekends with dinners, movies and activities. Sometimes it’s so bad that you video call them just as you’re about to drift off to sleep.

You don’t even bother to hope to go home early anymore. Min Yoongi always finds ways to make you stay late with him. You went through the five stages of grief at first because you felt your life was being taken away from you. You even thought of threatening him with a lawsuit because he couldn’t make you work over 40 hours a week. When you did he was quick to turn the tables by offering you overtime pay-- and not a measly sum. It was money you couldn’t turn away. So, once again you let yourself fall prey to his actions.

Slowly but surely you began getting used to this so-called “routine”. Gradually, hours started fading into one another until one day you became so habituated with staying late (and to the mind-boggling pay) that Yoongi didn’t even have to come to your cubicle to hand you anything. You already asked him in the morning for your evening assignment. One would think this would be a hint for him-- but no. The man was as clueless as one could be.

Like any other night, you had an assignment, one which Yoongi labelled as important. But then again everything was important. Any task he assigned (or rather you asked for) he classified as important. You wondered if he understood what the word means because if everything is important then technically nothing is. Rather than ask him about it, which wasn’t necessary anyway you did what you were handsomely paid to do.

A sigh passed your dry lips. Once again you grabbed the pen and began writing-- this time going as fast as your wrist would allow. The ink flowed from the pen to the paper in black scribbles, hardly understandable. But you could not bring yourself to care. He would have to deal with it, and that was that.

Having written the last sentence, you capped the pen and pushed back the chair so you could go to his office. Your heels hurt from wearing six-inch pumps all day. No less would do because turns out asshole Min Yoongi had made that provision because apparently, it looked “more professional”. While walking to his office you just imagined torturing him in your mind by making him wear these fucking heels. It was slightly comical imagery but also satisfying, so much so that you could not help yourself from smiling.

You knocked on the opaque glass door as you reached his office. It was customary for you to knock once and for him to not answer. Normally you would slide the documents or whatever is needed under the door because Yoongi had specifically requested he not be disturbed. But something prompted you to stick your head against the glass door and peer inside through the clear margins. You couldn’t see anything so despite Yoongi’s “request” you turned the knob, opened the door slightly and peeked your head inside. The scene in front of you however was not quite something you were expecting.

Min Yoongi was laying back against his very comfortable looking plush leather rotating chair, with his headphones on, legs resting on top of the table and his eyes fixed with a concentration on his laptop. There were empty boxes of takeout at his desk and the whole image conveyed to you that he hadn’t actually done any work. It was an inkling, which means you could be wrong. But you would be damned if you didn’t make your presence known.

You walked inside, standing halfway between him and the door and cleared your throat as loud as you could. There was no response as expected. You walked a few steps and stopped just short of his desk, yet he still did not notice you. You looked at the report in your hand and threw it on his desk, which landed with a thud. He jumped, and finally looked at you. It took a second but the realization dawned on him. His eyes bulged like he had been caught red-handed and you noticed his adam’s apple bob as he gulped hard.

He hastily took off his earphones and straightened in his chair. “I thought I told you not to disturb me”

“I am sorry, did I ruin the fun?” your brows knit together.

“Do you have the report?” he asked instead.

You look at the papers on his desk and then back at him to make him aware of it sitting in front of his eyes.  

He fumbles with the papers and picks them up. While he’s busy scanning the papers you take in the state of his desk. One side is completely neat with all the binders and files organized, and the other is just filled with trash. As you’re busy studying the contents of his desk, you notice the name of your client’s company on one of the papers. Curiously you reach towards the file, Yoongi still busy reading your report. You scan the pages and realize without even having to read halfway through it that Yoongi had already finished the report and it was marked with yesterday’s date, which means he already sent it to the client.

“Do you care to explain this Mr. Min?” your fingers curl into a fist around the papers.

His eyes widen once more. “Oh shit” he mumbles-- a deer caught in the headlights expression on his face.

He sighs, dropping your report on the table. “Oh fuck” he rubs his forehead. “It’s nothing,” he says with a straight face just a moment after looking like he’d been caught.

“It looks like you already completed the report. Why did I have to do it if you already did it?”

“I wanted you to” he’s quick to reply.

“I am sorry Mr. Min but that is not a good enough explanation. I stayed here even though I did not have to. I find it unfair that I have to do work that has already been done-- and that too by you. I doubt you don’t trust yourself with work”

“That’s enough with the questions” he replied curtly.

“Wait a minute” you look back at the pile of papers on his desk and find a presentation he had asked you to make for him a week ago. However,  the date this presentation was printed was a week before that which means that once again he made you do something that had already been done. Sensing a pattern you decided to confront him right then and there.

“Pardon my french, but why the hell have I been doing work that had already been done?”

Yoongi sighed once more, but this time he sounded more defeated than the first. “Look, I can’t give you an explanation you will like. There isn’t one. But I’ll tell you the truth”

“Good” you fold your arms across your chest.

“You won’t like this either but I asked you to stay late because I wanted you to be here with me. I never got used to working late at night. Something about being alone always irked me, so I started keeping people around. It’s not right, I know” he’s quick to justify just as he noticed you opening your mouth to speak. “Trust me, I know. But then when Brian left and you joined, I knew that I needed you around. So I started asking you to stay late. Turns out, I liked your company more than I have liked anyone else’s so I even started paying you to stay late, which I have never done either” he finishes, The only problem is he doesn’t sound sincere enough. It’s like he’s telling you for the sake of telling you.

“I am sorry Mr. Min but you are not a child. I can’t be putting my life on hold just so you don’t have to be alone at night. Do you have any idea how many occasions and opportunities I have missed in my life because of this? I couldn’t attend my best friend’s graduation, I couldn’t be there for the birth of my nephew because I was here slaving away. To think it was for nothing is terrible. You should really say sorry” you glare at the man, demanding an apology you know you deserve because it doesn’t matter how much money you got paid. It won’t compensate for the memories you could have made.

He purses his lips. “I won’t” he shakes his head. “I know it’s wrong but I don’t say sorry”

You scoff. “You’re an asshole”

He shrugs as if your remark doesn’t bother him in the slightest. “Be that as it may. I did what I did because I like having you around. In fact, I did it because I like you and I am not ashamed of it”

Under normal circumstances, you probably would have been flattered and even blushed at having been confessed to. But these weren’t normal circumstances and on top of that, it was Min Yoongi.

“How about this-- you can go home early for all of next week” he offers.

It actually makes your blood boil because he thinks he’s being generous. But even if you gave him a wide berth, this wasn’t even cutting it close “All of next month actually” you counter, determined in your own way to make him apologize for his actions.

He considers it. A few beats of silence pass as both of you continue to stare at each other. “Fine” he agrees.

“Good.” you say shortly, before turning on your heels and heading towards the door.

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Yoongi ends up keeping his word for the whole of next month. If it were up to you, you would have asked him that you will never stay late. But after your anger had died down in a week or so, the rational part of your mind convinced you that the money was too good. And it was. So you didn’t try to extend it.

In that one month, however, Yoongi was being awfully generous towards you. You figured it was his way of making up for his actions.

After a week of your heated conversation with him, you found a bouquet of flowers at home addressed to your best friend. There was no name on it. It turned out you did not need a name, because one you knew whose handwriting it was and secondly, the apology was enough for you to know who they were from.

I am sorry y/n missed your graduation. I realize she should have been there with you and it is my fault she was not. I can’t turn back time but I hope these flowers and this small gift make up for it. Congratulations on your achievement.

Accompanying the flowers was a generous gift, one which could have only been given by Yoongi. A full spa weekend with your best friend. It was an all-inclusive offer.

It felt like he was bribing you to forgive him. But even if that were the case, you felt you deserved this and you would be damned if you let it go to waste. If this is how he wanted to apologize, then so be it. In a way, he was giving you the opportunity to spend quality time with Hana.

Hana was ecstatic. “Isn’t it sweet?” she said dreamily.

You couldn’t help but scoff. “It’s not sweet. It’s what he should be doing. Not this exact thing per se. But he needs to be making up for what he did and he is” you reminded her.

“Fine” Hana was quick to give up because even she knew not to argue.

To apologize, at the end of the month Yoongi also ends up giving you the biggest client. This one you feel conflicted about because you can’t discern his intention. So you do the only thing you can. You went charging to his office to demand an explanation.

Maybe he heard you coming but before you could even open your mouth after entering the room he was already speaking.

“I know,” he says as he gave you one glance before focusing on his laptop as he typed away. “I gave you a client because you deserve it. Trying to make up for troubling you is also part of it, but it’s mostly because you deserve it” he explains without sparing you another glance this time. “It just so happens Karla likes you and I think you can understand each other well as women. Not to mention you have great marketing skills that Karla’s company could use” he finishes speaking and the sound of keys clacking stops as well. He gives you his undivided attention. “So” he joins his fingers in a steeple, elbows resting on the desk. “What do you think?”

You don’t even give it a second of thought. “You made a good decision Mr. Min” corners of your lips curve in a smile.

“Of course I did” he reciprocates your smile. “I never make bad decisions” his smile grows into a knowing grin.

You catch the sarcastic play on words. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that”. Your gaze lingers on his a second longer before you nod and turn away to leave.

Just as you reach for the door, he speaks.

“Do your best”

You turn around and give him a curtsey nod. “You bet I will”

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You’re back to working late nights, but this time with Yoongi in his office on actual things that matter.

You and Yoongi have been working on a pitch for Karla’s company to convince them to change their branding. You work late hours into the night as usual. You flirt here and there, but nothing major happens as you both keep it professional(ish). There are a few laughs exchanged, a couple of longing gazes, moments so thick with tension you could practically taste it on your tongue.

You lean over to look at Yoongi’s list of ideas, but unknowingly invade his personal bubble-- that intimate zone only reserved for significant others/spouses. You get caught up in the moment as you look at him, and he looks at you. For a moment you think he’ll kiss you. But instead, he clears his throat. “I’ll be back” his voice is a whisper.

He gets up hurriedly and leaves, clearing his throat all the way to the door.

You watch his figure disappear behind the opaque glass door.

“Keep it professional” you chide yourself with a shake of the head.

You focus back on your notes, flipping through the pages trying to put a concept map together.

A draft of air hits you and you look in the direction to find Yoongi opening the door. He walks in a few feet, one hand hidden behind his back.

Curiosity piqued and you offer him an inquisitive look. “What are you hiding Mr. Min?”

Wordlessly, he brings his arm forward. In his hand is a bouquet of baby’s breath flowers.

“How did you-” you start.

“I know” he erases the distance between you as he stops just shy of invading your intimate space and holds out the flowers.

You reach for them. “Thank you. But how do you know I like these?”

“You said it” he mentions.

“I did?” you look at him puzzled.

“Two nights ago. We were talking about using florals to brighten up the aesthetic for Karla’s company and you mentioned baby’s breath is your favourite flower”

“ I don’t even remember saying that” you shake your head, almost in disbelief that he remembered. “You actually remembered?”

He nods. “I remember everything you say” he replies“ no matter how sharply you put it” he adds with a chuckle.

At a loss for words, all you can do is stare at the man filled with a foreign feeling.

“Thank you” you finally manage to say.

“You’re very welcome” his lips curve into a smile.

He returns to his seat while you place the flowers on his desk as gently as you can. Once he’s seated you take the opportunity to ask. “Mr. Min” you address him.

“Yeah” he looks at you in a way that makes your heart race faster.

“Why did you give me these?” it feels like the incessant urgent know has been satisfied and you feel relieved.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I wanted to” he looks down at the papers in front of him. A few moments of silence pass as you continue studying him while he keeps his gaze downcast. “An-anyway let's get back to it” he quickly changes the subject.

You nod. Under the dim lighting of his office, for the very first time you notice how handsome he looks. His skin looks like porcelain, his eyes glimmer with a hint of golden flecks around the irises. His lips look buttery soft. You bite back on your lip as you realize how much quicker you’re breathing.

“Is something wrong?” Yoongi questions as he looks up at you.

You vigourously shake your head. “I just— I am sorry”

“I caught you staring didn’t I?” he responds but it’s not really meant to be a question. “I don’t mind. I like the attention” he winks.

Your eyes widen. “I— I wasn’t” your attempt at denying it is futile and even you know it. But you have to at least attempt to save face.

“If it helps, I actually think it’s cute” his lips upturn in a playful smile.

You keep mum, considering there is nothing to say. Even though you don’t speak, the smile on your lips says everything Yoongi needs to know.

You hear him softly laughing and you can sense him just shaking his head. Then you hear something and you aren’t sure if you hear it right but it sounds an awful lot like “you’re cute miss y/n”

You end up spending another hour brainstorming ideas. After that last exchange between you, you thought you couldn’t concentrate. But you did. And once more you flirted a little, exchanged gazes, and avoid as hard as you can to pay no mind to the vibe between you.

“I think we should call it a night” Yoongi stretches his arms over his head with a groan. “You’re tired too”

“Okay” you start gathering all the papers into a pile.

“Don’t worry about this” he waves his hand in a dismissive manner. “I’ll do it. Start getting your stuff together. I’ll drop you off”

“You don’t have to” you reply, the burdensome feeling coming on. “I can go home”

“Did I give you a choice?” he narrows his eyes at you. “Just because I got you these flowers, and that spa day and gave you Karla doesn’t mean you get to tell what I have or don’t have to do. Got it” he sounds a little stern, but in a way where he’s being thoughtful more than trying to be a jerk.

“Yes, Mr. Min” the meekness in your voice surprises you. As you stand in front of him you cannot understand what brings on this sudden submissive attitude. But you have already agreed and something tells you Mr. Min won’t take no for an answer.

“I’ll be right there” he motions to the door with his head, indicating that you should pack up.

“Okay” you pick up the bouquet and quietly walk out of his office.

The walk back to your desk is filled with mixed emotions. A fluttery feeling floats in your stomach, giving you the perception that your head is spinning. You almost stumble as you reach your desk. You realize you’re breathless as you grip onto the edges of the desk to steady yourself. “Shit. So much for keeping it professional” you mutter while you grab your bag. You sling it over your shoulder. You gather the flowers in your hand as you wait for Yoongi.

Moments later he’s coming out. “Ready?” he asks.

With a dry mouth and dizzying intoxication brought upon his presence all you do is nod.

“After you.” he says.

Maybe he isn’t an asshole after all.

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The sounds of crickets chirping in the silence of the night help shroud some of your thoughts. But not enough apparently because merely Yoongi’s presence is enough to send you in a tizzy. It’s maybe only been about five seconds since Yoongi stopped in front of your house but it sure feels like hours.

“Umm” you’re the first to break the silence. “Well, thank you for the ride an-and for these flowers”

“You’re welcome” comes his quiet voice.

You unlock the door, one foot already out of the door.

“Wait” his hand on your forearm stops you.

You turn to look at him. “Yeah?”

“I actually brought you these flowers because I was going to ask you on a date” he confesses.

“Oh” is all you can manage. You don’t know what else to say.

“So, will you…?” he sounds unsure as he says these words, almost like he himself doesn’t know.

He sounds sincere enough. But as it stands you have two choices: give in easily at which point you may as well give up any hope in future of asking him for anything. Or you could just play hard to get so he knows it won’t be easy.

“I’ll think about” confidence flows through your voice, and along with a coy smirk on your lips.

Yoongi’s previously solemn expression is replaced by a crooked smile. He studies you quietly, making you wonder what he’s thinking. “I’ll give you five minutes”

“No. If that’s how long you think it takes to figure out whether I want to give you a chance, then my answer is no”.

“Fine. How long do you want?”

“It’s not about long I want Mr. Min. It’s about how long you are willing to wait” and without hearing his response you exit the car.

All Yoongi can do is stare at you open-mouthed-- stunned and in utter disbelief.

You didn’t know Yoongi would wait for two whole months. You didn’t expect him to keep it professional between you either

You also didn’t expect Min Yoongi to come to your desk at 2 pm and ask you to look over the designs for one of your clients.

“You look lovely today y/n” he stops next to your desk, holding out a file for you.

“I always look lovely” you take the file from him, dismissing his compliment because you’re sure he’s just buttering you up into doing something for him. Not that you wouldn’t if he hadn’t said anything.

“I mean it” his voice softens as he recognizes your disbelief. “Blue looks good on you’” he motions to your blue blouse, and looks you straight in the eyes. He doesn’t even flinch-- which means he actually probably means it.

You certainly don’t regret picking it out anymore. “Thank you”

“You’re very welcome.” he adds with a smile that stretches into a grin. “Oh and can you look this over. Please and thank you”

“I will” you nod. “Question for you”

“Anything” he half sits on your desk as he awaits your ask.

“Did you come here to give me the file or to tell me I look good?”

“I came here to tell you, you look beautiful if what you’re after is my motive” the corners of his mouth turn up in a soft flirty smile.

“I am. But I’ll also look at this” you gesture to the file in your hand.

He acknowledges your response with a nod as he turns around and starts towards his office.

“Mr. Min” you call out and he turns around. “That suit looks great on you”

It takes him a second to comprehend your words, but as soon as he does, he’s back to smiling. “Thank you y/n”

Just as easily he struts away, just as easily everyone around you is stunned into silence. It looks like a comic scene as everyone looks at Yoongi’s retreating figure with mouth’s agape.

“Did he flirt with you?” one of your coworker’s peers over the divide between your cubicles.

You look up at him. “Yes he did”

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At 4 pm, you walk back to his office with your notes on the changes that should be made. You knock on the door once. He doesn’t answer so you take it as your cue to enter.

“Here are the notes” you hold out the file as you stop just in front of his desk.

“It’s already done?” Yoongi is forced to look up his work.

“Yes and yes”

“Okay. You can leave it on the desk” he goes back to his work.

You wait for him to catch on. But he doesn’t. So you start towards the door.

“Wait” he calls out. “Yes and Yes?”

You turn around, feeling giddy with anticipation.

“What’s the second yes for?” he looks at you puzzled.

“I guess you don’t want to go on that date anymore” you quirk a brow.

He closes his laptop and leans back in his chair. “Took you long enough”

“You reap what you sow Mr. Min”

“Is that right?” it’s rhetorical of course but you nod anyway.

He chuckles. “Let’s go “ he grabs his coat from the back of the chair and swings it around and on his shoulders.

You look at him puzzled. “Right now? What about work?”

“First, I am the boss so I make the rules and I say we go. Second, I made the mistake of offering you five minutes of time to make your decision. You really think I am going to give you a day or two for this date”

You can’t help but laugh. “In that case Mr. Min, let’s go”

He heads to the door first as you follow “After you” he opens it and you’re almost out of the door when he shuts the door. “Wait. I have to do something” he pulls you to himself, supporting you by the waist as he presses his lips to yours.

Maybe time stops when his lips meet yours. But the flutter in your stomach only intensifies. You feel weak in the knees. You hold onto the nape of Yoongi’s neck as your legs begin to tingle. Yoongi’s hands rest on your sides, and gently make their way up to cup your cheeks. You moan into his mouth, as his tongue dances against your lips.

Yoongi keeps his eyes slightly open as he pulls back for air. He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming so he held onto you tighter, causing you to become aware of the contour of his body flush against yours. “I am sorry if I took you by surprise” he’s slightly breathless and flushed. “I wasn’t sure how the date would go and if I would get the chance to do this. If you don’t want to go anymore” he stops to lick his lips. “I would understand” he finishes.

“So you’re not an asshole after all” you look at him through the curtain of your eyelashes.

He raises a brow at you silently telling you to consider your wording as if you're treading on thin ice. “I am still your boss”

You shrug. “You lost the upper hand when you asked me out”

“I knew I liked you for a reason” he says while he takes a tiny step back to give you space and time to collect yourself.

“I think I might fall” your breathless voice takes you by surprise.

“You already have” he curls his fingers around yours.

Hand in hand you walk out of his office, causing ruckus in your wake as your coworkers gawk in disbelief at your departing figures. Because how could Mr.Min be acting like this? More importantly, how could Mr. Min be smiling like an absolute idiot.

I hope you enjoyed it :) Don’t forget to like and reblog! Thank you for reading.

[iamtaekooked]

Mr. Min

↳Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader 

↳Genre: Romance (all fluff)

↳Word count: 4.7K 

↳Rating: G 

↳Warnings: None

↳Summary: 

 Min Yoongi is the asshole boss who keeps you late at work every night. But then you find out why and it gives you the upper hand.

A/N: I hope you guys like it!! Finally wrote something less than 5k. It has been a while for sure. 

Your hand begins cramping as you finish writing the report for asshole number one Min Yoongi. Writing a report is easy, but having to write it by hand is what makes you want to strangle him. The tiny blue desk clock strikes 11 pm and once again you lose out on the opportunity to live your life. At this point, you have lost track of how many times you have stayed late at the office while your friends enjoy their weekends with dinners, movies and activities. Sometimes it’s so bad that you video call them just as you’re about to drift off to sleep.

You don’t even bother to hope to go home early anymore. Min Yoongi always finds ways to make you stay late with him. You went through the five stages of grief at first because you felt your life was being taken away from you. You even thought of threatening him with a lawsuit because he couldn’t make you work over 40 hours a week. When you did he was quick to turn the tables by offering you overtime pay-- and not a measly sum. It was money you couldn’t turn away. So, once again you let yourself fall prey to his actions.

Slowly but surely you began getting used to this so-called “routine”. Gradually, hours started fading into one another until one day you became so habituated with staying late (and to the mind-boggling pay) that Yoongi didn’t even have to come to your cubicle to hand you anything. You already asked him in the morning for your evening assignment. One would think this would be a hint for him-- but no. The man was as clueless as one could be.

Like any other night, you had an assignment, one which Yoongi labelled as important. But then again everything was important. Any task he assigned (or rather you asked for) he classified as important. You wondered if he understood what the word means because if everything is important then technically nothing is. Rather than ask him about it, which wasn’t necessary anyway you did what you were handsomely paid to do.

A sigh passed your dry lips. Once again you grabbed the pen and began writing-- this time going as fast as your wrist would allow. The ink flowed from the pen to the paper in black scribbles, hardly understandable. But you could not bring yourself to care. He would have to deal with it, and that was that.

Having written the last sentence, you capped the pen and pushed back the chair so you could go to his office. Your heels hurt from wearing six-inch pumps all day. No less would do because turns out asshole Min Yoongi had made that provision because apparently, it looked “more professional”. While walking to his office you just imagined torturing him in your mind by making him wear these fucking heels. It was slightly comical imagery but also satisfying, so much so that you could not help yourself from smiling.

You knocked on the opaque glass door as you reached his office. It was customary for you to knock once and for him to not answer. Normally you would slide the documents or whatever is needed under the door because Yoongi had specifically requested he not be disturbed. But something prompted you to stick your head against the glass door and peer inside through the clear margins. You couldn’t see anything so despite Yoongi’s “request” you turned the knob, opened the door slightly and peeked your head inside. The scene in front of you however was not quite something you were expecting.

Min Yoongi was laying back against his very comfortable looking plush leather rotating chair, with his headphones on, legs resting on top of the table and his eyes fixed with a concentration on his laptop. There were empty boxes of takeout at his desk and the whole image conveyed to you that he hadn’t actually done any work. It was an inkling, which means you could be wrong. But you would be damned if you didn’t make your presence known.

You walked inside, standing halfway between him and the door and cleared your throat as loud as you could. There was no response as expected. You walked a few steps and stopped just short of his desk, yet he still did not notice you. You looked at the report in your hand and threw it on his desk, which landed with a thud. He jumped, and finally looked at you. It took a second but the realization dawned on him. His eyes bulged like he had been caught red-handed and you noticed his adam’s apple bob as he gulped hard.

He hastily took off his earphones and straightened in his chair. “I thought I told you not to disturb me”

“I am sorry, did I ruin the fun?” your brows knit together.

“Do you have the report?” he asked instead.

You look at the papers on his desk and then back at him to make him aware of it sitting in front of his eyes.  

He fumbles with the papers and picks them up. While he’s busy scanning the papers you take in the state of his desk. One side is completely neat with all the binders and files organized, and the other is just filled with trash. As you’re busy studying the contents of his desk, you notice the name of your client’s company on one of the papers. Curiously you reach towards the file, Yoongi still busy reading your report. You scan the pages and realize without even having to read halfway through it that Yoongi had already finished the report and it was marked with yesterday’s date, which means he already sent it to the client.

“Do you care to explain this Mr. Min?” your fingers curl into a fist around the papers.

His eyes widen once more. “Oh shit” he mumbles-- a deer caught in the headlights expression on his face.

He sighs, dropping your report on the table. “Oh fuck” he rubs his forehead. “It’s nothing,” he says with a straight face just a moment after looking like he’d been caught.

“It looks like you already completed the report. Why did I have to do it if you already did it?”

“I wanted you to” he’s quick to reply.

“I am sorry Mr. Min but that is not a good enough explanation. I stayed here even though I did not have to. I find it unfair that I have to do work that has already been done-- and that too by you. I doubt you don’t trust yourself with work”

“That’s enough with the questions” he replied curtly.

“Wait a minute” you look back at the pile of papers on his desk and find a presentation he had asked you to make for him a week ago. However,  the date this presentation was printed was a week before that which means that once again he made you do something that had already been done. Sensing a pattern you decided to confront him right then and there.

“Pardon my french, but why the hell have I been doing work that had already been done?”

Yoongi sighed once more, but this time he sounded more defeated than the first. “Look, I can’t give you an explanation you will like. There isn’t one. But I’ll tell you the truth”

“Good” you fold your arms across your chest.

“You won’t like this either but I asked you to stay late because I wanted you to be here with me. I never got used to working late at night. Something about being alone always irked me, so I started keeping people around. It’s not right, I know” he’s quick to justify just as he noticed you opening your mouth to speak. “Trust me, I know. But then when Brian left and you joined, I knew that I needed you around. So I started asking you to stay late. Turns out, I liked your company more than I have liked anyone else’s so I even started paying you to stay late, which I have never done either” he finishes, The only problem is he doesn’t sound sincere enough. It’s like he’s telling you for the sake of telling you.

“I am sorry Mr. Min but you are not a child. I can’t be putting my life on hold just so you don’t have to be alone at night. Do you have any idea how many occasions and opportunities I have missed in my life because of this? I couldn’t attend my best friend’s graduation, I couldn’t be there for the birth of my nephew because I was here slaving away. To think it was for nothing is terrible. You should really say sorry” you glare at the man, demanding an apology you know you deserve because it doesn’t matter how much money you got paid. It won’t compensate for the memories you could have made.

He purses his lips. “I won’t” he shakes his head. “I know it’s wrong but I don’t say sorry”

You scoff. “You’re an asshole”

He shrugs as if your remark doesn’t bother him in the slightest. “Be that as it may. I did what I did because I like having you around. In fact, I did it because I like you and I am not ashamed of it”

Under normal circumstances, you probably would have been flattered and even blushed at having been confessed to. But these weren’t normal circumstances and on top of that, it was Min Yoongi.

“How about this-- you can go home early for all of next week” he offers.

It actually makes your blood boil because he thinks he’s being generous. But even if you gave him a wide berth, this wasn’t even cutting it close “All of next month actually” you counter, determined in your own way to make him apologize for his actions.

He considers it. A few beats of silence pass as both of you continue to stare at each other. “Fine” he agrees.

“Good.” you say shortly, before turning on your heels and heading towards the door.

Yoongi ends up keeping his word for the whole of next month. If it were up to you, you would have asked him that you will never stay late. But after your anger had died down in a week or so, the rational part of your mind convinced you that the money was too good. And it was. So you didn’t try to extend it.

In that one month, however, Yoongi was being awfully generous towards you. You figured it was his way of making up for his actions.

After a week of your heated conversation with him, you found a bouquet of flowers at home addressed to your best friend. There was no name on it. It turned out you did not need a name, because one you knew whose handwriting it was and secondly, the apology was enough for you to know who they were from.

I am sorry y/n missed your graduation. I realize she should have been there with you and it is my fault she was not. I can’t turn back time but I hope these flowers and this small gift make up for it. Congratulations on your achievement.

Accompanying the flowers was a generous gift, one which could have only been given by Yoongi. A full spa weekend with your best friend. It was an all-inclusive offer.

It felt like he was bribing you to forgive him. But even if that were the case, you felt you deserved this and you would be damned if you let it go to waste. If this is how he wanted to apologize, then so be it. In a way, he was giving you the opportunity to spend quality time with Hana.

Hana was ecstatic. “Isn’t it sweet?” she said dreamily.

You couldn’t help but scoff. “It’s not sweet. It’s what he should be doing. Not this exact thing per se. But he needs to be making up for what he did and he is” you reminded her.

“Fine” Hana was quick to give up because even she knew not to argue.

To apologize, at the end of the month Yoongi also ends up giving you the biggest client. This one you feel conflicted about because you can’t discern his intention. So you do the only thing you can. You went charging to his office to demand an explanation.

Maybe he heard you coming but before you could even open your mouth after entering the room he was already speaking.

“I know,” he says as he gave you one glance before focusing on his laptop as he typed away. “I gave you a client because you deserve it. Trying to make up for troubling you is also part of it, but it’s mostly because you deserve it” he explains without sparing you another glance this time. “It just so happens Karla likes you and I think you can understand each other well as women. Not to mention you have great marketing skills that Karla’s company could use” he finishes speaking and the sound of keys clacking stops as well. He gives you his undivided attention. “So” he joins his fingers in a steeple, elbows resting on the desk. “What do you think?”

You don’t even give it a second of thought. “You made a good decision Mr. Min” corners of your lips curve in a smile.

“Of course I did” he reciprocates your smile. “I never make bad decisions” his smile grows into a knowing grin.

You catch the sarcastic play on words. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that”. Your gaze lingers on his a second longer before you nod and turn away to leave.

Just as you reach for the door, he speaks.

“Do your best”

You turn around and give him a curtsey nod. “You bet I will”

You’re back to working late nights, but this time with Yoongi in his office on actual things that matter.

You and Yoongi have been working on a pitch for Karla’s company to convince them to change their branding. You work late hours into the night as usual. You flirt here and there, but nothing major happens as you both keep it professional(ish). There are a few laughs exchanged, a couple of longing gazes, moments so thick with tension you could practically taste it on your tongue.

You lean over to look at Yoongi’s list of ideas, but unknowingly invade his personal bubble-- that intimate zone only reserved for significant others/spouses. You get caught up in the moment as you look at him, and he looks at you. For a moment you think he’ll kiss you. But instead, he clears his throat. “I’ll be back” his voice is a whisper.

He gets up hurriedly and leaves, clearing his throat all the way to the door.

You watch his figure disappear behind the opaque glass door.

“Keep it professional” you chide yourself with a shake of the head.

You focus back on your notes, flipping through the pages trying to put a concept map together.

A draft of air hits you and you look in the direction to find Yoongi opening the door. He walks in a few feet, one hand hidden behind his back.

Curiosity piqued and you offer him an inquisitive look. “What are you hiding Mr. Min?”

Wordlessly, he brings his arm forward. In his hand is a bouquet of baby’s breath flowers.

“How did you-” you start.

“I know” he erases the distance between you as he stops just shy of invading your intimate space and holds out the flowers.

You reach for them. “Thank you. But how do you know I like these?”

“You said it” he mentions.

“I did?” you look at him puzzled.

“Two nights ago. We were talking about using florals to brighten up the aesthetic for Karla’s company and you mentioned baby’s breath is your favourite flower”

“ I don’t even remember saying that” you shake your head, almost in disbelief that he remembered. “You actually remembered?”

He nods. “I remember everything you say” he replies“ no matter how sharply you put it” he adds with a chuckle.

At a loss for words, all you can do is stare at the man filled with a foreign feeling.

“Thank you” you finally manage to say.

“You’re very welcome” his lips curve into a smile.

He returns to his seat while you place the flowers on his desk as gently as you can. Once he’s seated you take the opportunity to ask. “Mr. Min” you address him.

“Yeah” he looks at you in a way that makes your heart race faster.

“Why did you give me these?” it feels like the incessant urgent know has been satisfied and you feel relieved.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I wanted to” he looks down at the papers in front of him. A few moments of silence pass as you continue studying him while he keeps his gaze downcast. “An-anyway let's get back to it” he quickly changes the subject.

You nod. Under the dim lighting of his office, for the very first time you notice how handsome he looks. His skin looks like porcelain, his eyes glimmer with a hint of golden flecks around the irises. His lips look buttery soft. You bite back on your lip as you realize how much quicker you’re breathing.

“Is something wrong?” Yoongi questions as he looks up at you.

You vigourously shake your head. “I just— I am sorry”

“I caught you staring didn’t I?” he responds but it’s not really meant to be a question. “I don’t mind. I like the attention” he winks.

Your eyes widen. “I— I wasn’t” your attempt at denying it is futile and even you know it. But you have to at least attempt to save face.

“If it helps, I actually think it’s cute” his lips upturn in a playful smile.

You keep mum, considering there is nothing to say. Even though you don’t speak, the smile on your lips says everything Yoongi needs to know.

You hear him softly laughing and you can sense him just shaking his head. Then you hear something and you aren’t sure if you hear it right but it sounds an awful lot like “you’re cute miss y/n” 

You end up spending another hour brainstorming ideas. After that last exchange between you, you thought you couldn’t concentrate. But you did. And once more you flirted a little, exchanged gazes, and avoid as hard as you can to pay no mind to the vibe between you.

“I think we should call it a night” Yoongi stretches his arms over his head with a groan. “You’re tired too”

“Okay” you start gathering all the papers into a pile.

“Don’t worry about this” he waves his hand in a dismissive manner. “I’ll do it. Start getting your stuff together. I’ll drop you off”

“You don’t have to” you reply, the burdensome feeling coming on. “I can go home”

“Did I give you a choice?” he narrows his eyes at you. “Just because I got you these flowers, and that spa day and gave you Karla doesn’t mean you get to tell what I have or don’t have to do. Got it” he sounds a little stern, but in a way where he’s being thoughtful more than trying to be a jerk.

“Yes, Mr. Min” the meekness in your voice surprises you. As you stand in front of him you cannot understand what brings on this sudden submissive attitude. But you have already agreed and something tells you Mr. Min won’t take no for an answer.

“I’ll be right there” he motions to the door with his head, indicating that you should pack up.

“Okay” you pick up the bouquet and quietly walk out of his office.

The walk back to your desk is filled with mixed emotions. A fluttery feeling floats in your stomach, giving you the perception that your head is spinning. You almost stumble as you reach your desk. You realize you’re breathless as you grip onto the edges of the desk to steady yourself. “Shit. So much for keeping it professional” you mutter while you grab your bag. You sling it over your shoulder. You gather the flowers in your hand as you wait for Yoongi.

Moments later he’s coming out. “Ready?” he asks.

With a dry mouth and dizzying intoxication brought upon his presence all you do is nod.

“After you.” he says.

Maybe he isn’t an asshole after all.

The sounds of crickets chirping in the silence of the night help shroud some of your thoughts. But not enough apparently because merely Yoongi’s presence is enough to send you in a tizzy. It’s maybe only been about five seconds since Yoongi stopped in front of your house but it sure feels like hours.

“Umm” you’re the first to break the silence. “Well, thank you for the ride an-and for these flowers”

“You’re welcome” comes his quiet voice.

You unlock the door, one foot already out of the door.

“Wait” his hand on your forearm stops you.

You turn to look at him. “Yeah?”

“I actually brought you these flowers because I was going to ask you on a date” he confesses.

“Oh” is all you can manage. You don’t know what else to say.

“So, will you…?” he sounds unsure as he says these words, almost like he himself doesn’t know.

He sounds sincere enough. But as it stands you have two choices: give in easily at which point you may as well give up any hope in future of asking him for anything. Or you could just play hard to get so he knows it won’t be easy.

“I’ll think about” confidence flows through your voice, and along with a coy smirk on your lips.

Yoongi’s previously solemn expression is replaced by a crooked smile. He studies you quietly, making you wonder what he’s thinking. “I’ll give you five minutes”

“No. If that’s how long you think it takes to figure out whether I want to give you a chance, then my answer is no”.

“Fine. How long do you want?”

“It’s not about long I want Mr. Min. It’s about how long you are willing to wait” and without hearing his response you exit the car.

All Yoongi can do is stare at you open-mouthed-- stunned and in utter disbelief.

You didn’t know Yoongi would wait for two whole months. You didn’t expect him to keep it professional between you either

You also didn’t expect Min Yoongi to come to your desk at 2 pm and ask you to look over the designs for one of your clients.

“You look lovely today y/n” he stops next to your desk, holding out a file for you.

“I always look lovely” you take the file from him, dismissing his compliment because you’re sure he’s just buttering you up into doing something for him. Not that you wouldn’t if he hadn’t said anything.

“I mean it” his voice softens as he recognizes your disbelief. “Blue looks good on you’” he motions to your blue blouse, and looks you straight in the eyes. He doesn’t even flinch-- which means he actually probably means it.

You certainly don’t regret picking it out anymore. “Thank you”

“You’re very welcome.” he adds with a smile that stretches into a grin. “Oh and can you look this over. Please and thank you”

“I will” you nod. “Question for you”

“Anything” he half sits on your desk as he awaits your ask.

“Did you come here to give me the file or to tell me I look good?”

“I came here to tell you, you look beautiful if what you’re after is my motive” the corners of his mouth turn up in a soft flirty smile.

“I am. But I’ll also look at this” you gesture to the file in your hand.

He acknowledges your response with a nod as he turns around and starts towards his office.

“Mr. Min” you call out and he turns around. “That suit looks great on you”

It takes him a second to comprehend your words, but as soon as he does, he’s back to smiling. “Thank you y/n”

Just as easily he struts away, just as easily everyone around you is stunned into silence. It looks like a comic scene as everyone looks at Yoongi’s retreating figure with mouth’s agape.

“Did he flirt with you?” one of your coworker’s peers over the divide between your cubicles.

You look up at him. “Yes he did”

At 4 pm, you walk back to his office with your notes on the changes that should be made. You knock on the door once. He doesn’t answer so you take it as your cue to enter.

“Here are the notes” you hold out the file as you stop just in front of his desk.

“It’s already done?” Yoongi is forced to look up his work.

“Yes and yes”

“Okay. You can leave it on the desk” he goes back to his work.

You wait for him to catch on. But he doesn’t. So you start towards the door.

“Wait” he calls out. “Yes and Yes?”

You turn around, feeling giddy with anticipation.

“What’s the second yes for?” he looks at you puzzled.

“I guess you don’t want to go on that date anymore” you quirk a brow.

He closes his laptop and leans back in his chair. “Took you long enough”

“You reap what you sow Mr. Min”

“Is that right?” it’s rhetorical of course but you nod anyway.

He chuckles. “Let’s go “ he grabs his coat from the back of the chair and swings it around and on his shoulders.

You look at him puzzled. “Right now? What about work?”

“First, I am the boss so I make the rules and I say we go. Second, I made the mistake of offering you five minutes of time to make your decision. You really think I am going to give you a day or two for this date”

You can’t help but laugh. “In that case Mr. Min, let’s go”

He heads to the door first as you follow “After you” he opens it and you’re almost out of the door when he shuts the door. “Wait. I have to do something” he pulls you to himself, supporting you by the waist as he presses his lips to yours.

Maybe time stops when his lips meet yours. But the flutter in your stomach only intensifies. You feel weak in the knees. You hold onto the nape of Yoongi’s neck as your legs begin to tingle. Yoongi’s hands rest on your sides, and gently make their way up to cup your cheeks. You moan into his mouth, as his tongue dances against your lips.

Yoongi keeps his eyes slightly open as he pulls back for air. He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming so he held onto you tighter, causing you to become aware of the contour of his body flush against yours. “I am sorry if I took you by surprise” he’s slightly breathless and flushed. “I wasn’t sure how the date would go and if I would get the chance to do this. If you don’t want to go anymore” he stops to lick his lips. “I would understand” he finishes.

“So you’re not an asshole after all” you look at him through the curtain of your eyelashes.

He raises a brow at you silently telling you to consider your wording as if you're treading on thin ice. “I am still your boss”

You shrug. “You lost the upper hand when you asked me out”

“I knew I liked you for a reason” he says while he takes a tiny step back to give you space and time to collect yourself.

“I think I might fall” your breathless voice takes you by surprise.

“You already have” he curls his fingers around yours.

Hand in hand you walk out of his office, causing ruckus in your wake as your coworkers gawk in disbelief at your departing figures. Because how could Mr.Min be acting like this? More importantly, how could Mr. Min be smiling like an absolute idiot.

I hope you enjoyed reading :) Don’t forget to like and reblog! Thank you for reading. 

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

A New Kind Of Misery (Part 2)

Summary: After a night out, the reader wakes up the next day to discover her soulmate mark is now on her body. Except she has no idea who they are…

Pairing: soulmate!Dean x Actress!reader

Part 1

Square: Slow Burn

Word Count: 5,900ish

Warnings: language, brief nudity

A/N: Written for @spndeanbingo​​

____

“Alright,” said Dean as you sipped on a beer on your couch, Dean pacing back and forth in the family room. You watched him go, smiling at him as you took him in. “I’m obviously not explaining this correctly or else you’d be freaking out.”

“Your mom was killed by a demon which led to your dad going on a vengeance trip in which you and your brother got dragged along. You were raised on the road and into this hunting life. Your dad died, the demon is dead but a whole lot of other stuff happened and you hunt monsters. I don’t think I left anything out,” you said. You held out the still full beer sat on the coffee table to him. “You got to try it. It’s from this brewery out near Napa and-”

“You are a little celebrity. I’ve been on the most wanted list. I’m legally dead and a criminal. You and me, we don’t mix.”

“Just because I act doesn’t give you a right to talk down to me,” you said. You got to your feet and he rolled his eyes. “I earned everything in this house. It wasn’t given to me. I did that.”

“My point being is that you live in an incredibly nice house and have money out your ass and your biggest worry is probably who sat next to who at some celebrity party or whatever. My problems? Life or death, every single day.”

“I thought I made it extremely clear,” you said, putting your drink down and getting in his face. You grabbed his arm and tugged down his jacket sleeve to reveal his matching mark. “We’re soulmates. I’m with you, you’re with me. There’s not getting out of it.”

“I’m not...listen,” he said, putting his hands on your shoulders and guiding you to sit down. He went with you, giving you a forced smile. “So we’re soulmates. It does not mean we have to be together. You can stay here with your life and I can go back to mine. This never has to be an issue.”

“You’re something else,” you said, shrugging him off. You stood and left the room, heading upstairs to your room. You sat down on the floor and leaned back against the bed, reaching underneath for a shoebox. You pulled it out and opened the lid, taking out the small drawing you’d done years ago. It was a ring of fire, something you’d done in school when you learned about your marks. It was supposed to be an exercise on reflection and what you thought you mark would be. You remembered being scolded for drawing it but holding it up to your wrist, it was a near perfect match.

“What’s that,” he asked. You hadn’t heard him come in and shoved the drawing back in the box. “I remember doing that in school too. I drew the flames in a circle back then.”

“Why don’t you want me?” you asked quietly. He sighed and sat down on the other side of the box, tucking his knees up.

“Not a matter of what I want, sweetheart. It’s what’s right and what’s wrong. Getting you killed doesn’t seem very right to me,” he said. He flipped off the lid of the box, staring inside. “That a picture of you and your family?”

“Yeah. My parents and older brother,” you said.

“You’re cute,” he said, skimming through a few pictures. “These are important to you.”

“Our house had a fire when I was little. I took my bear and box out with me,” you said.

“Maybe it’s why we got flames. We both had fires growing up.”

“I don’t care what you do or how dangerous it is. It sounds like you’re really important actually. But no matter what you do, the most wrong thing you can do in the world is reject your soulmate.”

“You will die in my world. Even if I wanted to teach you, something will hurt you, take you, torture you, kill you, all before I even have a chance. You will be in pain and horrified and I might not be able to stop it. It’s not an if, it’s a when. And I can’t do your world. I just can’t. You live in the spotlight. I hide in the shadows. Coming here once was a risk I could justify but anything more and something might follow me and come after you. This conversation is all it can ever be,” he said.

“Be selfish and tell me what you want.”

He turned towards you and reached his hand up to your face, pulling you into a deep kiss. His jaw was a gentle kind of scratchy, his lips so damn soft and you could feel your wrist warm at your mark. He broke off and looked down, a deeper black making it up now.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut. “Fuck.”

“Cementing our bond? Tough shit. Now we need to-”

“You need to-” he said before you felt like you’d been hit in the gut. You gasped, a rush of who he was down in his soul hitting you. He grunted and grabbed your hand, riding through it himself. It felt wrong though, so much pain and trauma filling you up in your core. “Y/N. Y/N, breathe. It’ll be over in a second.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said, taking another gasping breath. “You’re not feeling this bad ever again.”

“Y/N, you don’t understand. It’s not-”

“We’ll make it work,” you said, his hands catching you as you started to fall. The dark pit in your stomach began to subside and you shut your eyes, putting your head between your knees. Dean picked you up and sat you on your bed, sitting close by as he ran a hand over your head. “What was that?”

“I may have left out the part where I was in Hell for 40 years,” he said. You jerked your head up and stared at him, water forming in your eyes. “Don’t cry about it.”

“I’m sorry I care about you. It’s not like we’re connected on every level or anything,” you said. You rested your head down again, Dean moving his arm over your shoulders.

“I spent 30 being tortured. Then I couldn’t take it anymore so I picked up a blade and tortured for a decade. I became the star pupil,” he said. You risked a glance over, Dean staring at the bedding.

“I don’t know how you lasted that long. I couldn’t...s’not your fault for doing that. You had to stop the pain,” you said. He pulled his arm away and rested his hands in his lap. “Dean. It’s alright.”

“That is the tip of the shitty iceberg. You have to stay away from me.”

“No,” you said with a smile. “I’m sorry but no.”

“Why?” he asked. “You don’t know me.”

“I don’t, but we kinda do. You would not have come here if you could really stay away. We’re connected. No matter our situations, it’ll work,” you said.

“God, you’re as stubborn as I am,” he said.

“Looks like it. Can we agree to try at the very least?” 

He was quiet, absently staring at his wrist. He ran his thumb over it and you caught sight of some light scars on his body. 

“Your life is scary but it doesn’t mean the scary stuff is going to make me run away. I’ll learn and so will you,” you said.

“I can’t date the lead actress in one of the biggest Netflix shows,” he said. “The second I’m in the public eye-”

“There are ways around the public eye, Dean. No one even knew I spent most of the past year dating someone,” you said.

“Really?”

“Really. I can sneak out of here very easily. We know we can’t walk away from each other.”

“I’m in charge though. I need to stay away, I stay away.”

“I’ll let you think you’re in charge if that makes you feel better,” you said with a smile. He grumbled and you moved over to his lap, his pretty green eyes watching you the whole time. “It’s not me, right?”

“What’s not you?” he asked softly.

“You being so hesitant. It’s because you want me to stay safe, right. It’s not because you don’t...you know...like me,” you said. Something in his face changed and there was a fluttering in your chest. He slid his hand up to the back of your neck and kissed you slowly, hot breath fanning over your face when he moved away an inch.

“Don’t ever say something like that again,” he murmured. “I need you and that’s scaring the shit out of me.”

“I completely understand,” you said. “My brother told me it feels like you’ve known them forever and you just met them all at once.”

“Pretty good way of putting it,” he said. “Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t stay,” he said. He was looking over to the doorframe and you saw another man there. You jumped off of Dean but he held up a hand. “It’s just my little brother. That’s Sam.”

“Hey,” said Sam with a quick wave. “De. The nest. We gotta go before it starts to get dark.”

“Nest?” you asked as Dean stood up.

“Yeah. Vamp nest. It’s what brought us to LA in the first place. It get dangerous if we wait until night. I’ll be back later, okay?” said Dean. You nodded and watched as he headed out of the room.

“Be careful,” you said, catching them in the hall. He smiled and you returned it. “Wait a second. Can I come?”

“No,” he said, the smile wiped clean off his face. 

“We said we’d try though.”

“Y/N. Stay. I’ll be back later,” he said. 

“Alright. You guys can stay here tonight if you want,” you said.

“I’ll be back,” said Dean. “Don’t worry, sweetheart.”

He took off down the stairs with his brother and you frowned, hearing the front door shut. You jogged down to your office and sat down behind your laptop. You grabbed a notebook from the drawer and a pen, turning over a new page before you were on the internet. For a beat you paused but then you were searching vampires and writing down anything and everything you could about them.

Four Hours Later

“Hey,” said Dean, knocking on your office door. You jumped, Dean smirking to himself. “You weren’t-”

“Oh my God,” you said as you stood up and saw him covered in blood. You were wide eyed but he laughed. “You need a hospital!”

“This is from the vamps. I have a few bruises I think but that’s all,” he said. You walked up to him and looked him over, Dean carefully keeping an eye on you. “Y/N? You gonna freak out on me?”

“No. You can clean up in my shower,” you said. “I can order takeout.”

“Alright,” he said, glancing over at your computer. He followed you upstairs and to your bedroom. You flipped on the light as you headed into the bathroom, Dean taking it all in. You found some big towels for him and set them down on the counter. He was staring in the mirror when he seen he’d been caught by you. “You have a gorgeous bathroom and I look like a brute.”

“It’s just a bathroom,” you said, showing him the shower. “Feel free to use my stuff to wash up. I’ll try to clean those clothes of yours up for you while you’re in here.”

“Bleach and elbow grease normally works,” he said as he started to take off his jacket. “You really don’t have to. This stuff is gross.”

“Blood in clothes doesn’t bother me,” you said. “I’ll uh, give you your privacy.”

“Doesn’t really matter,” said Dean. “It’s not like were not going to see each other naked at some point anyways.”

He undressed and left his wallet on the counter along with his phone and watch. He got down to a pair of black boxer briefs and you cocked your head.

“What?” he asked.

“You have a very cute butt,” you said. He smirked and shook his head. “What?”

“Should have seen your own ass in season 1,” he said.

“Take your shower, goofball,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Oh. How do you take your steak?”

“Medium? Why?” he asked.

“I’m getting us takeout, remember?” you said.

“We have very different definitions of takeout,” he said. “Don’t get me like some vegetable on the side please. Vegetables aren’t my thing.”

“French fries?”

“More than okay,” he said. You found your hooded robe from your closet and put it on the counter as well, hoping that it was oversized enough to at least get his top half covered up for dinner. You ducked outside and went to the laundry room to grab the empty basket, returning to the sound of the shower on and Dean’s bare backside greeting you. 

“Damn,” you said to yourself. He looked over his shoulder with a shy smile but he didn’t cover himself up. You felt heat in your cheeks and quickly gathered up his clothes and took them to the laundry. You called for some dinner before you set out trying to clean the clothes, quickly realizing this was going to be more difficult than you thought. You pursed your lips, quiet footsteps behind you.

“I can get that,” said Dean in a towel around his waist. His hair was damp and you spotted a few stray droplets he’d missed wiping off of his chest.

“It’s alright. Relax. You had a rough night,” you said. He smiled and stepped beside you, taking the bottle of stain remover from your hands. 

“You got some gloves?” he asked. You pointed up to the cabinet over the sink and he reached up to pull down two pairs of rubber ones. He slipped it on and bundled his clothes up in the sink before he grabbed a bucket on the floor and filled it up with some water and mixed in some bleach. He set the bucket in the sink and poured some on his clothes, humming as he started to roughly scrub the clothes between his gloves and you began to see red stain come out. When it looked good he would toss it in your washer and wash what he could down the sink. “Easy peasy.”

“Do you not have any other clothes?” you asked.

“I’m not much of a clothes guy,” he said. “I have my duffel in my car with some. I didn’t really think to grab it before Sammy went back to the motel.”

“A motel? He could have stayed here,” you said. He shrugged and took off his gloves.

“We’re simple,” he said. “Your uh, robe was a little short.”

“What size are you?” you asked, pulling out your phone.

“XL. Why?” you asked.

“One hour delivery,” you said. “I’ll get you some clothes. Dinner’s going to take a bit anyways. Do you like salmon?”

“To eat?”

“No, the color,” you said, showing him a hoodie on your phone. He raised an eyebrow and you glanced in the washer. “Black?”

“Black is good. Really, Y/N, you don’t have to.”

“I can’t hunt and I’m not great at washing up vampire blood apparently but I can do this for you,” you said. 

“Alright,” he said. You turned on the washer and you headed downstairs, getting Dean a blanket to wrap around himself while he took a seat on the couch. You gave him the remote and ordered a few things for him before going into your office and putting away your notebook. When you returned he was watching an old episode of Scooby doo and you smiled, taking a seat on the couch beside him. “Were you researching vampires while I was gone?”

“A bit,” you said.

“I have a journal I can send you. It’s got the actual information you need in there,” he said. “On anything and everything.”

“Cool,” you said. “I’m guessing the garlic thing isn’t real.”

“No, no. The sun irritates them but it’s not like they can’t go out in it. I had a buddy who was one, wore sunglasses and a coat out and he was pretty good,” said Dean. You went wide eyed and he smiled. “Not all monsters are bad just like not all people are good. It’s a gray world. I have a good friend that’s a werewolf.”

“Your life is so weird.”

“My best friend is an angel. My other friend is the Queen of Hell,” he said. “Oh and I help raise the son of Lucifer.”

“I can’t believe you’re not besties with God too,” you laughed. He rolled his eyes and sighed. 

“Chuck’s a dick but he’s dead at least,” said Dean.

“Did you just say God is dead?” 

“Like I said, it’s a gray world.”

“Right.”

You slumped back into the couch and shut your eyes. 

“When you said your life is dangerous…”

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s a lot of weird stuff.”

“How do you get through it? Who takes care of you?”

“Me and my brother just push through it. It’s what we’ve always done,” he said.

“It seems like an incredibly hard life.”

“It has it’s moments. Your life can’t be easy either.”

“I make a TV show,” you said. You crossed your arms and absently watched the cartoon. Dean moved beside you and you felt his arm slid around your waist. “I don’t even watch horror movies because I get scared. Your life is a horror movie.”

“Yet you’re still here,” he said. “Not only that, but you’re trying. Let me try and do the same.”

“I make a TV show,” you said again.

“You’re telling me there’s no pressure involved with that?”

“No. There’s an incredible amount of pressure. It’s not life and death though.”

“Yeah but you doing a really good job, that gives a ton of other people jobs. It puts food on their tables, pays for the roof over their head. You sacrifice your privacy, your time. Your job is harder than you make it seem.”

“If it wasn’t me in the job, it’d be some other actress,” you said.

“Trust me, people watch for you,” he said. 

“Do you...watch the show?”

“Yeah. We always binge the new season when it comes out. It’s good,” he said. 

“Thanks,” you said, something tickling at the back of your mind. You took out your phone and checked your messages, groaning when you saw the one’s from Patrick. “I completely forgot I’m supposed to go to a party tonight. It’s for Danny, my co-lead. He’s like my brother. I…”

“Go,” said Dean with a smile. “It’s okay.”

“You could come if you wanted? After dinner,” you said. Dean made a face and you smiled. “It’s private, I promise. Danny’s a quiet guy.”

“Okay,” said Dean.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m sure people are going to notice your mark appeared anyways. I don’t think introducing me to some trusted friends is a problem,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said, kissing his cheek. “I’ll let him know we’ll be a little late.”

“My black hoodie is dressy enough?” he asked.

“It’s a backyard party with beer and a bonfire. You’ll fit right in.”

“That steak was so good,” said Dean, rubbing his stomach as you got out of your car at Danny’s house.

“Good. You deserved it after going all Buffy today,” you said.

“Was that a tease, princess?” he smirked.

“I think it was, Buffy,” you laughed. You grabbed his hand, led him around to the back gate and walked around the house to the patio. There were less than ten people there and you knew all of them, Danny turning his head and catching you. “Hey birthday boy!”

“About time! Seriously though, you just met your soulmate today. You didn’t have to come, Y/N,” he said, giving you a hug. “I’m Danny.”

“Dean,” he said, shaking Danny’s hand. They shared a strange look with one another before they broke off. 

“Winchester?” asked Danny quietly. He nodded and Dean smiled. “Haven’t seen you in...fourteen years?”

“I’m 32 so that’s about right,” said Dean. “How’s the family?”

“Good. We laugh about it now,” said Danny. “Tell your dad thanks again when you get a chance.”

“He died a few years back.”

“That’s too bad,” he said before he looked at you. 

“Keep her safe,” said Danny.

“I plan on it,” said Dean. 

“Well there’s drinks in the fridge or you’re welcome to the liquor cabinet. Y/N can show you,” he said. 

“How do you-” you said as Danny shook his head.

“Some stuff, you just don’t talk about, Y/N,” he said. “We’ll keep him under wraps tonight.”

“Thanks, Danny,” you said. You guided Dean inside and set Danny’s present down on his kitchen table, heading over to the counter where he’d set out some alcohol. “So. How do you know him?”

“Ghoul case in his town when I was about eighteen. He was a few years younger if I remember. Him and his brother Joe got into a bit of a mess. We got them out of it,” he said.

“How many people have you saved?” you asked.

“What?”

“How many have you saved?” you asked as you started to make yourself a whiskey sour.

“I don’t really keep track of that sort of thing. I think more about the ones I couldn’t save to be honest.”

“I’m going to guess you’ve saved more than you lost,” you said. “Cut yourself a break.”

“Self-hate is kinda my thing,” he said with a chuckle.

“We’ll see about that,” you said, grabbing another glass. “You want one?”

“Sure,” he said. “You know, just cause we’re soulmates and we’re trying doesn’t mean you’re gonna fix me.”

“I’m not trying to fix you. I just...wish you saw what I did.”

“You barely know me.”

“True. But my soul knows your soul very well. Let’s call it a gut feeling,” you said. He hummed and you made another drink for him, Dean carrying it out to the backyard. You introduced him to a few more people and found a pair of seats by the fire. He relaxed more the longer you were there but you knew he was nervous. After a few hours you said your goodbyes and headed home with him, Dean easing up once you were back at the house.

“It’s getting kind of late,” he said. 

“Do you want to head to bed?” you asked.

“I think...I’m going to grab my stuff and head back to the motel. Sam and I have a long drive in the morning,” he said. You stared at him and he rubbed the back of his neck. “This’ll never work. I can’t...I can’t pretend. I could barely pretend in front of eight people tonight. We don’t live in a bubble. I’m sorry, Y/N. This isn’t going to work,” he said. 

“Then leave,” you said. You went upstairs to the laundry room and took his things out of the dryer, carrying them down and shoving them in his arms. “Never come back.”

“Y/N. If you weren’t-”

“But I am, Dean. I’m in the public eye and you hide from it. Fine. Go hunt and I’ll stay here and we’ll both be miserable. I was never asking you to give up what you do, you know. It scares me but I was willing to try. You lasted two hours at a party with my friends who think you fix cars for a living. It’s obvious you wanted a way out. You’ve wanted out since you came here. So just go and stay away.”

He looked down and went outside, waiting on your front steps for about twenty minutes before you heard a car pick him up. 

You wiped off your face and went up to bed, crawling under the covers and wishing you’d never met him in the first place.

Three Months Later

“Back off!” you shouted at the guy dragging you down a hall in a sketchy warehouse. You kicked your leg back and hit him hard but he didn’t budge an inch. He dragged you over to a chair and tied you to it before pulling out a sharp looking knife. “I have money. You can-”

“I’m a demon, sweetie. I need to talk to your boy toy,” he said.

“I haven’t spoken to him in months. I barely know the guy,” you said.

“Hm, not what your internet search history says. You suddenly into the supernatural now?”

“Why is a demon checking my browser history?” you asked.

“Honey, the second word got out that Dean Winchester’s soulmate was out there, every demon with a bone to pick with him went looking for you. I just so happened to get lucky and possess a guy in your manager’s office.”

“Lovely,” you mumbled, swallowing when he pointed the blade at you. “Maybe we can negotiate a deal before you use that.”

“My deal will be with Dean, not you. He’ll be dead and so will you so I wouldn’t-”

“Cory my dear,” said a female voice behind him in the darkness. He glanced over his shoulder and shot straight up.

“Rowena! How nice to-”

“Cory. What did I tell you about the Winchesters?” she asked.

“They’re hunters. There’s no such thing as off limits hunters,” he said.

“Go,” she said, snapping her fingers. You stared as she stepped into view and she gave you a smile. “Hi dearie. Don’t worry about him. He’s off in purgatory.”

“Dean said you guys were friends, right,” you said.

“Yes,” she said with a smile. “Would you like to go see him?”

“Not-” you said, suddenly in the middle of a large room. You spun around, books everywhere, tables here and there and Dean eating cold pizza out of the box at one of them. 

“Y/N?” he said, getting up and looking to Rowena. “What happened?”

“Troublesome demon took her. She’s fine and he’s dealt with. It was nice meeting you. I’d stick around but you two look like you need to have a conversation,” she said. She disappeared and you blinked, Dean walking over to you.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” you said, pulling your hand away when he reached for yours. “Just drive me home.”

“We’re in Kansas.”

“...Well, drive me to a rental car place and I’ll drive home myself,” you said. “How do I get out of here?”

You tried to go past but he caught your arms, sliding his hand down to your mark. You glared at him and he sighed, running his thumb over the skin there.

“This changes absolutely nothing you realize. Stay out of my life,” you said. You tugged on your arm and he let you go. “Where’s the exit?”

“Just...give me a second,” he said. He went over to a cabinet by the wall and opened a bottom drawer, pulling out a folder. He set it down on a table and opened it up, an ID and other documents in there. “I need to be anonymous. It has to be just us. No friends. No family. It’s too dangerous. But we can go places and be alone. You can come-”

“Anywhere I go there is a chance I am recognized and a chance someone takes a picture and it ends up on the internet. People are already dying to know who you are. This only works if you give up what you do or I give up what I do and that’s not fair to either one of us.”

“Then from now on in public, I’m Dean Campbell. It’s what I go by around here. I’m just a quiet Kansas boy who works on cars for a living who will try to stay out of the limelight and the other part of the time, I’ll go do my job,” he said.

“Just like that, you’ve changed your mind.”

“Not just like that. It takes time to forge a new identity. People will ask questions. Now they have answers,” he said. “This stuff is out there if anyone wants to go digging. It took time to get it in place.”

“How long?”

“About three months. We have to do it ourselves and to make it credible, it takes time.”

“So what was your next move?”

“Get out to LA. Stand at your door. Hope you could understand.”

“A demon kidnapped me today.”

“I don’t guarantee that doesn’t happen again,” he said. “All I can offer is my crappy soul.”

“It’s not crappy,” you said, taking a seat. “Dean, you walking away like that hurt. A lot. Even for good reasons, it hurt. I’m not ready to try and date you.”

“I get it,” he said. 

“Friends?”

“I’m okay with that,” he said. “I know I’m pushing but would you want to stay the night?”

“Sure. Just as friends though.”

“Just friends, I promise.”

Two Months Later

“Did you see that!” you said, Dean shaking his head as you jogged back over to Baby. “I shot a ghost!”

“That’s real good, sweetheart,” said Dean as he kept trying to light a match. You spotted the ghost behind him again and shot, Dean nearly jumping down into the grave. 

“Sorry!”

“It’s fine,” he said before he tossed the match in. He took a deep breath and walked back over to you, giving you a once over. “Not bad for a princess.”

“I’m supposed to be getting ready to go to a network party right now,” you said.

“Yeah but hunting’s more fun,” he said, wiping a bit of dirt off your cheek. “Get scared at all?”

“Oh definitely! But I think I got that adrenaline high thing right now,” you said, Dean chuckling as he took the shotgun from you.

“Just a smidge,” he said. “I got a surprise for you.”

“What?”

You blinked and found yourself back home in LA with Dean, Rowena giving you a wave before she disappeared from view.

“Want to go to your party?” he asked.

“Why are you here though?” you asked.

“Because after a hunt, you go out and celebrate.”

“What about Sam? And the car?”

“Baby’s fine with Sammy. Come on. I bet I look good in a tux,” he said.

“Dean,” you said, smiling at him. “Want to stay home instead?”

“Yes,” he said and you let out a big laugh. “The party is fine too. Just...home is better. Actually a diner would be amazing.”

“I know a place,” you said. “Let’s go take a ride.”

“You have the best pie,” said Dean to the waitress about an hour later. She laughed and you munched on a french fry, Dean already wolfing down his last bite.

“Can we get another piece of the cherry for him and I’ll take a slice of that chocolate looking one,” you said.

“No problem,” she said. After a moment she returned with the food, Dean diving into his pie again.

“I knew you liked pie. This must be really good,” you said.

“I place it at number four. Above Sally’s in Bismark but just below 511 outside Phoenix,” he said. “This is high quality pie we’ve got here.”

“Part of the after hunt tradition?” you asked.

“On the good hunts, yeah,” he said.

“What we did tonight, that was super easy, wasn’t it.”

“Yeah. But you start small. I wouldn’t mind keeping you away from the big hunts permanently,” he said. 

“Going soft on me there, Winchester?” you asked.

“Maybe,” he said. He leaned over the table and gave you a kiss. He smiled when he moved back to his seat and took a bite of his pie with a hum.

“You kissed me. In public.”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” he said, smirking to himself.

“I hadn’t realized we shifted into dating,” you said.

“Y/N. If you never wanted me to be anything more than a friend, I’d live with it. I deserve it for how I acted before. But-”

“No, you don’t,” you said, standing up and sliding into the booth beside him. “I want us to be together because we want to, not because you felt like you owed me.”

“What about the rules of being soulmates?” he asked. 

“Screw the rules,” you said. He smiled and slid his plate of pie in front of you. 

“Well I don’t share top ten pie with just anybody,” he said. “Maybe next week I can go to your premiere party.”

“You don’t have to,” you said.

“I know. I want to.”

“Okay,” you said. He took your hand under the table and returned to eating, absently brushing his thumb over your mark. “Dean?”

“Mhm?” he said.

“Don’t call your soul crappy again. It’s beat up but not crappy.”

“Maybe that’s why it’s you. I need someone to believe what I have a hard time doing myself.”

“We’ll get there,” you said, kissing his cheek. “Now how about that pie, Winchester.”

_________

[samthemarvelfan]

Bloom for Me: One Shot

Summary: Bucky Barnes is number one on the list of people who piss you off. Good ole Cap doesn’t seem to care, and you’re sent on a mission at the behest of Dr. Banner. The tension is so thick, you could cut it with a knife. ...but what kind of tension is it, exactly?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: SMUT...with plot! Angst, and a lil dash of fluff. 18+ ONLY

A/N: SEX POLLEN FIC. I DID IT YALL. I finished a story I’ve held hostage for 3 months lol In honor of Seb’s bday...enjoy! <3

“I cannot express to you how much I’m not going to do this.” You gripe, arms crossed as you glare across the conference room at Steve.

“Ella, please—it’s less than a day. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” He scolded.

You scoffed, “I’m actually making it quite easy. Send someone else, Steve. I’m not doing it.” You stand from you seat, with all intents being to walk out the door, when you hear a chuckle.

“Told ya, Pal. That’s a $20, fair and square.” He said.

He being James Buchanan Barnes; also known as Bucky.

Also known as a pain in the fucking ass.

You stop abruptly, spinning on your heel to face them. “What was that, Barnes?” You seethe.

“It’s nothing, Ella.” Steve said to you, before turning a glare to his friend. “Drop it, Buck...” He warned.

Bucky walked over to where Steve was standing, putting both hands on his shoulders as he passed by.

“Oh, come on now, Steve. I told you she’d whine about it—that was less than 40 seconds right? I’ll take my $20.” He joked with his friend.

You stomped toward Bucky. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He laughed again. That smug, sarcastic, arrogant laugh. “Me and my pal over here like to place bets on just how much whining we’ll have to hear from you; I do anyway. This time it was ‘Let’s see how long it takes Ella to start acting like a fucking toddler.’”

Your heart hurt a bit at his words. You expect this kinda shit from him, but Steve? Does he feel that way about you, too?

“Ella he doesn’t—“

Steve tried to speak, but Bucky cut him off. “I mean anytime—anytime you’re paired of with me for a mission, you’re always tryna get out of it. You’re like a kid bargaining to not eat their vegetables.”

He stood in front of you now, towering your small frame. “Being friends isn’t a fucking job requirement. Stop acting like a spoiled brat, do the work and get out. Ain’t that right, Steve?”

You and Bucky—believe it or not, were kinda friends at one point.

He’d been one of the only people to properly welcome you to the team, and for a few weeks you were starting to get to know each other well.

Until you had your first solo mission with him. Bucky hadn’t communicated his location, despite your attempt to find him for more than 20 minutes. You needed to blow the building before the targets escaped.

Unfortunately, you forgot to clear your surroundings and you ended up held hostage by a HYDRA agent. Until Bucky burst through the room like a maniac, saving you and the mission.

Since then, he’d been distant, even cold toward you. When you did see him, the two of you couldn’t get along. Passive aggressive comments, name calling, even down right fighting during training sessions were the norm now with Bucky.

You watched the two men. Steve, who’s head was hung low with embarrassment, and Bucky, who’s smug grin you wanted to wipe against the concrete.

“Fuck this. Fuck you both.” You strained. You wanted to cry, but you wouldn’t. Not yet. Not in front of him.

As you make your way out the door, you hear Bucky call out sarcastically, “What? Was it something I said?”

“Why do you do that to her?” Steve asked him.

Bucky felt the shit-eating grin dissolving from his face. “Do what.” It was a statement, and definitely not a question.

Steve scoffed, “You know damn well what I mean, Buck. She didn’t do anything to provoke that.”

Bucky swallowed hard, avoiding his friends gaze. “She’s a fucking brat, Steve.”

Steve shook his head in disbelief, “Do you hear yourself? Would you wanna work with you?” He asked.

Bucky pushed himself from the table, “Look it’s not my fault she almost got herself killed the first time she was put in the field. So she’s got a complex about it, big whoop.”

Bucky didn’t stay to hear Steve’s lecture. Truth be told, he couldn’t stomach it.

He knows how he treats you is disgusting. The bravado he has to put on around the team makes him sick to his stomach, but it’s necessary.

When he saw your life was in danger that day, he fucking panicked. Why did he panic?

He doesn’t know. But the thought of you getting hurt...or worse, made his skin crawl. Bucky wasn’t use to feeling so attached to someone so quickly, and he hated it.

Your safety was always in the front of his mind. Wondering if you were being followed or watched or tortured or—

Stop it, Buck. Stop it. She isn’t yours to worry about. He scolded himself.

Pushing you away was the easiest part. Making you hate him was second nature, but hurting you? Making you think he hated you?

It fucking sucked.

He walked back to his room. Every intention of showering and sulking until he fell asleep, when he heard your voice through the walls.

He stood a few feet from your door, hearing everything. Stupid super soldier perks.

You were crying.

You were crying because of him.

“Fuck.” Bucky seethed through his teeth.

He doesn’t know how or when it happened, but soon he was knocking on your door.

A moment later, it swung open. You stood there, eyes red and puffy. Cheeks wet with tears, and lips swollen.

Probably from biting them like she does when she’s trying not to cry. He thought to himself.

“Come to abuse me some more?” You ask with a pain in your voice he’s never heard before.

It snatched the wind from his lungs. How long had he been making you feel this way?

“Ella, I’m—“

“Save it. I don’t want your fake apologies. Get this straight, I’m not weak.” You growl.

Bucky wonders if your trying to convince him, or yourself.

“I’ll do this mission with you. I’m not going to let you turn this team against me, but after this? We’re done. I don’t wanna hear from you ever again. I’m going to request a transfer to work at the Tower instead.”

The Tower. Manhattan. 3 hours away.

Not with me. Bucky thought.

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. He didn’t want you to go, not like this. Not because of him.

“Nothing to say?” You quipped. “Thought so. Goodbye, James.” You said, and slammed the door in his face.

Bucky stepped forward, leaning his forehead against the door.

How did this get so out of hand? How did it get to the point where you’d be so desperate to be rid of his ridicule that you’d leave your home?

Bucky wasn’t sure, but he was going to fix it.

Whatever it takes.

“Make sure to keep the rebreathers on at all times.” Bruce said, closing the hologram of the building.

You nod, “So what exactly is it that makes it so toxic?”

Bruce laughed, “Toxic is a strong word—potent...that’s more fitting.”

You peering at the case file; Votum Floreant.

“Got it, anything else we should know?” You ask, eager to get the mission over with.

Bruce shook his head at you and Bucky. “Don’t thinks so. Just seal it in the case the moment you get it, and keep those rebreathers on while you’re in the jet with it. I’ll take care of it when you guys get back. It doesn’t affect me the way it would you two.”

Bucky looked confused, “If that’s the case, why the hell are we going?”

He chucked, “Its a stealth op. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but being subtle isn’t exactly my forte.”

You smiled, nudging him.

“I’ll keep coms open.” You say, exiting and heading to the flight deck on the roof.

Bucky hadn’t said two words to you since the briefing.

Good. You think.

But also, out of character.

Maybe he’d finally taken the hint that you were done being treated the way he treats you. Maybe he’d been relieved to hear you were requesting your transfer.

Maybe he really did hate you.

The thought tore at your heart in more ways than one. Before the whole mess of your first mission happened, you thought the both of you were on the same page.

The flirty looks during briefings, the waiting until it was just the two of you to have dinner or walk the grounds. The movie nights where he’d pick ones he knew only the two of you would like.

It must have just been one sided. No one feels the way you feel—felt, about him and just turns it off.

As the jet whirred into flight, you took a seat next to Bucky at the controls.

“Are you going to say anything? Or are we going to mime this whole mission.” You ask without looking at him.

He doesn’t say anything, or even look at you for that matter.

You scoff subtly, “I don’t know why I bother. I guess I’m just a glutton for punishment.”

Kicking up one leg, you keep it crooked up-right next to you, using it as a block between you and Bucky.

You’d finally landed after a painfully quiet 2 hour flight. You were securing your clips to your holster when you felt him behind you.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Bucky said suddenly.

It was almost impossible to look at him without sarcasm. “Really? What exactly did you think was going to happen? A person can only take so much, James.”

You move to walk away, but he grips you shoulder gently, turning you to face him.

“I...I didn’t like seeing you like that.” He practically whispered.

You paused before hitting the button to let the ramp down. You wanted to say something snide, but you didn’t dare give him your energy.

“Let’s go. I wanna get this over with.” You mumble, finally hitting the button.

“Payload secured. Extracting now.” Bucky spoke into the coms.

With your gloves on, and rebreather secured to your face, you open the case Bruce had given you.

“Here, put it in.” You instructed.

This...plant? No. Flower, definitely a flower, was gorgeous. Bright red and purple ombré petals with a speckled green and yellow stem. The green leaves reaching off the stem faded to a black tip. It was stunning.

Bucky reached for the pot, that’s when you noticed the plant changing.

“Whoa, whoa. Did you see that?” You ask him.

The stem looked like it was pulsing. Golden buds began blooming within the petals.

“I don’t like this. I’m calling Bruce.” You said.

You tap your ear piece. “Dr. Banner, we’ve got some strange activity. The plant is...growing? It’s morphing and producing—“

“Get it in that case now!” He shouts, “It’s sensitive you temperature. The closer you get, the more it detects your body heat. If you’re not careful, it’ll pollinate.”

“Els...” Bucky called.

The flower was almost glowing. It’s was hypnotic, drawing you to it...the both of you.

“It’s...it’s beautiful.” You say mindlessly.

“Sergeant Barnes? Do you copy?” You hear Bruce say through the coms.

He doesn’t respond and neither do you.

“It smells like you. Like...summer rain, and strawberry shortcake.” Bucky says, walking closer to the flower.

The buds are growing. They look as though they’re about to burst.

He shakes his head, breaking the trance. “Shit.” Bucky grumbles putting the pot in the case, and slamming it shut.

You’re both breathing heavily. When did you get this close to each other? You’re close enough to see the beads of sweat on Bucky’s hairline.

“S-Sorry.” You whisper, looking down.

He tilts you chin up to look at him, “Don’t be.” He whispers in reply.

The realization of your closeness to him set in again, cause you to jump back suddenly.

“I’m gonna go...watch the controls.” You mumble.

When you sit in the seat, you finally feel it. Your elevated heart rate, the slick in your skin, and the undeniable ache between your thighs.

“What the hell?” You mutter to yourself.

“I’m glad you made it home in one piece.” Dr. Banner says as you approach the door to the compound.

Behind you, Bucky wheeled the cart with the case on top of it.

“It was definitely something. What does that thing do exactly? The packet on it was pretty vague.” You ask.

Bruce hesitated, “It’s just...it’s a...it’s hard to explain.”

You quickly whip off your rebreather, enjoying the fresh air. “Try me.”

“Look out!” Bucky shouts from behind you.

In a flash you see Bruce’s face go into pure panic. No one was quick enough. The case tumbles to the ground, smashing open and exposing the plant.

Both you and Bucky rush for it. In an instants the plant glows again, pulsing quicker then before.

“Ella, no!” Bruce shouts.

You hadn’t noticed, but Bucky’s mask was off too. Neither of you looked at anything but the flower. “It’s beautiful.” You said mindlessly.

Suddenly there was a burst from the middle of it. Golden flecks of pollen floated through the air like glitter.

“Whoa.” Bucky said breathlessly.

Looking to him, he was bathed in an ethereal haze. A visible aura and smell drawing you to him, you couldn’t have looked away if you tried.

And you didn’t care.

Bucky’s eyes suddenly locked with yours, and you knew he felt it too.

You moved towards each other, before you felt yourself getting yanked back.

“Tony, get him into quarantine now!” Bruce shouted as he tugged you with him.

“No! Stop it! Bucky!” You shouted. A conscious part of your mind was being dulled; why did you need to be near Bucky so badly?

“Stark, I’m warning you! Ella! Ella!” Bucky shouted as he was picked up by Tony, wearing his Iron Man suit for safety.

You were pulled in separate directions, and brought into the compound.

2 hours. 37 minutes. 46 seconds.

That’s how long it’d been since you’d seen Bucky.

You were currently on you bed, aching with a cold sweat. Your body was screaming at you, telling you to get out and go find him.

“What’s happening to me...” you groan into the space above you.

Between your thighs was throbbing, the heat emerging from your core was unrelenting. Your nipples were so hard, they felt like they could cut glass, and a glisten of lust on your skin couldn’t be ignored anymore.

Your own fingers did nothing to alleviate the ache. Attempting to pleasure yourself was in vain, because it wasn’t just any touch you needed. You felt like you would die—surely, you would die without his touch.

You needed Bucky, and you needed him now.

Stood from your bed, and practically running to the door, you relish in the friction it caused between your legs.

Pulling and twisting the knob in every direction does nothing. Of course it doesn’t...of course they’d locked you in here.

“FRIDAY?” You practically begged.

“Yes, Miss Monroe?” The AI replied instantly.

You cleared your throat, and pressed your sweat stained forehead agains the cool wood. “Please open my door.”

“I’ve been instructed not to let you out unless it was an emergency.”

“It is,” You say quickly. “it’s an emergency.”

She didn’t respond, the door simply clicked open. You yanked it back and revealed a sweat soaked Bucky on the other side; with bloodshot eyes, and his pupils blown out.

You’re sure your breathing mirrored his. Heavy and lengthy breathes passed your lips, chests heaving in time with one another.

Neither of you spoke as he took daunting steps forward, pushing you back into your bedroom.

In a flash, the door is slammed shut, and his hands find your hips. “Need you. Have to have you.” He groaned into the crook of your neck. “Had to smell you, touch you.”

Bucky hoists you up against the wall, and you’re seated perfectly on his thigh. “Please tell you want this—need this as badly as I do.”

The friction of his sweatpants clad thigh against your core makes you moan. “Yes, yes. Bucky...James, please.”

His lips are on yours before you can think.

Tongues take purchase of one another—it’s sloppy and rushed, and you don’t care.

You grind your heat onto his thigh, surely leaving wet patches—you’re dripping after all.

“That’s is sugar, get yourself off.” He practically growled.

“Bucky.” You moan. “More. Give me more.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Your back hits you’re bed with a muted thud, and he in you again, stripping you of your bottoms. You help him, and tear your shirt from your body.

Bucky grips your ankle, and makes eye contact as he starts peppering kissed up your leg. Soft, wet kissed that felt like fire against your skin.

He suddenly hooks your legs with his arms and waits, looking at you for permission. “Can I taste you?”

You nod, swallowing thickly. Soon, Bucky’s tongue is lapping at your clit, sucking and soothing the swollen bud, eating you like it was the man’s last meal.

“James, oh my...don’t stop.” You moan, raking your fingers through his hair.

Bucky hold your hips down, and your orgasm hits you like a truck. Cumming all over his face, but he doesn’t stop, he works you through it until your shaking.

“You taste like heaven, but now I need to be inside you.” He kissed you again, and you taste your juices on his stubble.

With new confidence, you push him back on the bed, and climb on top, lining him up with your entrance. In a smooth stroke, his entire length is in you. You gasp at the stretch, not expecting it.

“Look at you, sugar. Taking my cock so well, that’s it baby,” he croons as you start to ride him. “Take every inch, all for you, doll.”

You grind onto his cock, finding the perfect angle to meet your most sensitive spot.

“Oh, James.” You moan, throwing your head back.

“So tight, perfect. Mine, all mine.” He grunts, sitting up to kiss your chest. He swirls his tongue around each nipple, driving you mad.

You feel that rubber band stretching in your core, and Bucky feels it too.

He picks up his pace, thrusting up into you harder and faster until your seeing stars. Bucky repeats your name like a prayer on his lips until he stills, spilling his warmth inside of you, biting down on your chest as he came.

With the last scrap of energy you had, you roll off of him. Neither of you speak for a few minutes, you simply let your breathing return to normal.

“So that’s what that plant does.” Bucky says jokingly.

You throw your hands over your eyes, “I can’t believe we just did that.”

The mattress dips as you feel Bucky turn to face you. “Don’t get all shy on me now, Els.”

You move your hands, but refuse to look at him. Vulnerable is the last thing you want to be in front of Bucky Barnes.

Bucky’s hand finds your cheek, “Hey, I’m serious, talk to me.”

The sigh that you release is one of nerve and exhaustion. “What’s there to talk about? How I was just fucked into oblivion by a guy that hates my guts? That the only reason we’re in this bed together is because of some toxic plant that messed with our brains? There you go, there’s your talk.”

“I don’t hate you.” He says on the heels of your speech.

You laugh, full on chuckle. “Okay, Barnes. I get it, hates a strong word and all that, but you definitely don’t like me.”

Bucky swung his legs over the side of the bed, “You’re right, I don’t like you. I’m pretty sure I fucking love you.”

He says it as causally and easily as anything. In fact, it comes out with such ease, you’re almost inclined to believe him.

“Right, that’s why you ignore me while we’re at the compound, or make pick on me for fun, and follow me around like a rookie in every mission we’re forced to do together.”

He stands and pulls up his shorts. “I follow you because the thought of you getting killed makes me sick to my fucking stomach. I call out mistakes because I want you to be aware of everything so that I don’t have to kill people for hurting you.”

You prop yourself up on the bed, and shield your exposed body with a sheet. Buckys hands wash over his face before landing on his hips.

“I avoid you while we’re here because if I didn’t, I’d want to spend ever second of every day with you. You’re all I fucking think about, and frankly, it’s driving me crazy.”

You smirk at his humor, he always could make you laugh.

“So what do we do now?” You ask, sitting up on your knees, and allowing the sheet to fall.

Bucky’s eyes roam your figure, and he swallows hard. “I’d like to erase all the hateful things I’ve ever said to you, but I can’t. I can only ask to get a new start, sugar. A chance—give me one chance.”

His hand find your hips, and you feel the goosebumps prickle your skin. “After all, I am the guy that just fucked you into oblivion, right?

You smirk, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on his lips. His hand cups your cheek as you pull away.

“Can we watch those old movies like we used to? Just you and me?” You mumble, looking down.

Bucky laughs, and pulls you into his warm chest, kissing the crown of your head. “You got it, honey. Just you and me.”

taglist:  @iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 @lefoutoir @nickangel13 @marvelismysafezone @lilulo-12 @warmvanillafeels @star-spangled-beard-burn @ravenesque @pinknerdpanda @wintersoldierissucharide @snapcapquartet @ellen-reincarnated1967 @unlistedpond @my-drowning-in-time @supernaturalwintersoldier @kimvmarvel @roseboho @winterboobear11 @choicesloversstuff @disaffectedbarnes @igothroughphasesalot @supernaturalwintersoldier​ @miss-assembled (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry!)

[0paperairplane0]

Pain

Summary: Loki’s struggling with his mental health and one day, Thor notices his brother’s scars.

Warnings: Self-harm, suicidal thoughts, mental illness, angst

Words: 2259

A/N: I was thinking one day that Loki’s obviously dealt with mental illness before and wanted to write a little bit about it idk. This is very angsty and does have self-harm so if that triggers you, don’t read. I’ve never written angst before so sorry if it’s a bit sloppy! I’m really sorry if you’ve ever had to go through anything like this and I really, really, really hope it gets better.

Speech = Bold

Thoughts = Bold + Italic

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It was hard, but he was used to it. For centuries, all he did was fake. Fake a laugh, fake a task, fake a smile. It was easy for him. It brought him comfort. The thought always made him laugh. Going through stress, anger, pain every day yet, pretending everything was okay and lying, brought him comfort. It was familiar, to lie and pretend, so it helped. Going through his day with perfect posture, everyone thinking he was proud and in love with himself. Often, he found himself saying “I, Loki of Asgard, am burdened with glorious purpose.” Most think he’s just narcissistic and full of himself but, the opposite. He tells himself he’s great because he knows it’s not true. He’s the monster parents tell their children about at night. He hated himself, but it was easier to let everyone believe he loved himself, and maybe one day convince himself of it as well.

This was just another day. He got out of bed, brushed his teeth, made his hair, and changed his clothes. He was ready to leave his room. He reached for the doorknob and walked out. He headed towards the kitchen where no one was to be found. It was predictable considering it was 4:45 am. He’s always been a person who enjoys mornings. They’re calm and quiet with no one awake. He also doesn’t sleep much. He’ll go to bed at 1:00 and wake up at 4:30. It was a schedule and it was enough sleep for him. Nightmares also didn’t help.

He grabbed the kettle and put it on the stove where he made some tea. He put it in a teacup and added some milk but no sugar. He put two fingers against the bottom of the teacup. It was hot and burned. He left his fingers there as he picked up the teacup and headed to the counter, still feeling the pain in his fingers. He sat down and took out a book with his magic and flipped to the page he left off on, occasionally sipping his tea.

He’d finished his drink in about 10 minutes but wasn’t hungry enough to eat anything. He got out of his seat, put the teacup away, and sat back down at the counter, continuing to read in the dark. After what he’d predicted to be about 40 minutes, he started losing interest in reading and sat up. He picked up the book and it disappeared in his hands as he put it away using his magic. He checked the clock, it was 5:20. His teammates would wake up in about an hour. He left to go to the training rooms.

Once he was there, he trained. After he was done with his fitness, he threw some knives and shot some arrows, working on his aim which was still perfect whether he was looking or not. He would fight with Thor later to work on his combat but, for now, he was done.

He headed to his room, walking past a few avengers on his way, giving them a nod. Everyone was awake by now. He undressed and hopped into the shower.

After he put on some clothes, he brushed his hair, then went to leave his room. He reached for his doorknob, but something stopped him. It was like he couldn’t move. He was stuck. He forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat as he began understanding what was happening. His hand started shaking. It was subtle but noticeable. He began feeling anger towards himself. Why is this happening if nothing has triggered it? He asked himself. It happened often. Sudden bursts when nothing was wrong. His breath became heavy and his whole body felt as if it would drop. He felt heavy like he was drowning. He told himself to breathe and went to his bathroom, trying to keep himself composed.

He went inside and splashed his face with some water. Slowly, he raised his head and looked at the mirror, staring daggers at his eyes in the reflection. Why was he like this? He’s always been so… different. There was no reason for it. He left the bathroom and returned to his room. He put his face in his hands and began crumbling to the floor. He backed up against a wall and wanted to cry, but couldn’t. He never cried. Not because he was tough, but because he had no tears left to cry.

He ran his hand through his hair and looked down at his arm. It was covered with his sleeve but he knew what was underneath the leather. His mutilated wrists, the victims of centuries of hate, anger, pain, regret, confusion. He rolled up his sleeve slightly and stared. This was the side of him no one knew of. He’d gone two entire days of not hurting himself, but it was too much. He summoned a small dagger with his magic and just stared. He wanted to do it, but he shouldn’t. It’s not good for me he told himself. He lowered the dagger against his skin and slashed. Pain, but the physical kind. The bearable kind. He slashed again. And again. And again. And again. He watched as his blood rolled down his arm. He moved on to the other arm. I am a monster slash, I hurt people slash, I don’t deserve to live slash, I deserve nothing slash, slash, slash, slash. He stopped. He felt better. It was fine. He put down the dagger and stayed on the floor. He looked around his room and found a place where his eyes stayed. He stared at that spot of his room.

He kept staring, thinking. He didn’t hear the knock on his door. “Brother? May I come in? I have to speak to you of an important matter.” More knocking, but Loki heard nothing. “Brother? I’m coming in.” Thor opened the door and saw Loki, sitting on the floor. A dagger inches away from him and bleeding wounds all over his arms. “Loki?” Thor asked, fear in his voice. That, Loki heard. He looked at his brother and their eyes locked. “Hello, Thor.” Loki said. “What- Are you- Loki? What happened?” Thor asked, concerned as he walked into his brother’s room and closed the door behind him. Loki began laughing. Thor didn’t find any of this humorous.

“Brother, this is no laughing matter. What happened-”

“Do you truly not know what you’ve walked in on?” Loki asked, sarcasm in his voice. Thor didn’t reply and walked closer to his brother. He grabbed his brother’s wrists and Loki didn’t protest. The wounds were clearly fresh but that wasn’t what concerned him. Loki’s wrists had many scars. There was barely any space where there weren’t scars. Some cuts looked like they were maybe a few days old and others were merely scars that looked years old. Something in his mind clicked. “How long have you been doing this to yourself?” Thor said, his voice serious. Loki grabbed his arm back and smiled. “Centuries.” He replied. “Why?” Thor questioned. “Because it helps”, Loki replied, the smile fading from his lips. It was Thor’s turn to laugh. “Help? How could this possibly help, Loki?! You’re hurting yourself!” Thor’s voice was angry yet concerned. “You don’t understand-” “Then make me understand!” Thor cut his brother off and yelled.

“You really want to know?” Loki said, smiling sarcastically. “Yes! I want to know why my brother has been hurting himself! For centuries!!” Thor replied. “Very well”, Loki said, still smiling. He stood up and rolled down his sleeves.

“Think”, Loki said. “What?” Thor replied. “Were you or were you not there when I let go and fell into the void?” Loki asked Thor. “How does this have anything to with-” “Answer the question if you want to know.” Loki cut his brother off. Thor questioned his brother’s methods but listened. “Yes, I was there when you fell into the void.” Thor finally answered his brother’s question. “And why do you think I let go?” “Because you were angry? You found out of your true parentage.” Thor answered again. “Now tell me why you hurt yourself.” Thor demanded. “Fine.” Loki answered, with poison in his voice.

“I hate myself and always have.” Loki blurted out. “I- I was always different from everyone else but never knew why. You would enjoy yourself with friends while I would watch. I tried so hard to fit in with everyone else but it never worked. People have hated me everywhere I’ve ever gone. “He’s the dark prince! D- don’t go near him! He’ll bite your head off!” Everyone always loved you but they hated me. I was the little boy living in the shadow of his big brother. The little prince with no future. Father always preferred you over me and I never knew why! I wasn’t good enough no matter what I did. I was always a failure who could never do anything right! I thought there was something wrong with me and I guess I was right. I’m a monster. I hurt people everywhere I go. I’m a murderer. I’m just a burden to you and everyone who knows me!” Loki poured his feelings. His face was no longer holding a smile and tears were welling up in his eyes. “And to answer your question, I hurt myself because it helps. It’s easier to deal with physical pain than emotional pain. Also, if I don’t do this, I lash out at others, hurt others. It’s effective.” Tears were now running down both Loki and Thor’s faces.

Thor looked shocked. “Loki… I had no idea”, Thor said. The sarcastic smile on Loki’s face reappeared. “Of course not, you never notice anything.” Loki said. He wiped his tears and fixed his hair, checking over himself in the mirror. “Very well, I’ll be on my way then.” He left the room with his perfect posture and Thor did nothing to stop him, still struck by Loki’s words.

<><><><><><>

Loki spent all day worrying about what his brother saw. He was sitting in a chair in the library and reading, or at least he was trying to. He kept on re-reading the exact same paragraph over and over again. He couldn’t focus on the words. What if Thor were to confront me about it? Or tell someone? He was dreading what may happen.

After some time of re-reading the same paragraph, he got up and left the library in search of Thor. He had to be the one to bring up the topic, not Thor. He would not let himself be cornered.

He looked around the headquarters for some time, in search of his brother. Finally, he found him in a common room with Steve Rogers. “Brother?” Loki called and cleared his throat. “May I speak with you?” He asked with a cold voice. He saw as Steve looked at Thor with concerned eyes and his brother did not hesitate to look back at the soldier, equally as concerned. “Yes, of course”, Thor said, getting up. Loki worried that Rogers may know what Thor saw but discarded the thought, not wanting to be distracted. He had to appear unbothered.

They headed to a different room with Loki leading. He walked in and Thor followed. Loki closed the door and turned the lock. “Loki, if this is about what I saw....” Thor said with a look Loki hated. “I want you to forget what you saw.” Loki demanded quickly, keeping his voice steady and his face serious. “Loki, I cannot just forget that. It was-” Thor started. “Scarring?” Loki finished his brother’s sentence with a still face. He feared his brother may reject him after all he saw. Thor lowered his head in shame.

“You know what? Never mind, this was a bad idea.” Loki turned around and began walking to the door to leave. “Brother”, Thor began. “What”, Loki growled with poison in his voice, quickly turning around. He wanted this to be done with. “Please, please just make me this one promise.” Thor said softly, as if he may break his brother. Loki’s face looked calculating, studying Thor’s expression. “Please just promise me that you will not…. That you will not hurt yourself anymore.” Thor pleaded with desperation in his voice. “And why would I do that?” Loki asked, a sarcastic tone tracing his voice. “Please just”, Thor looked down into the palms of his hands. “If you won’t do that, at least promise me that you’ll come to me if you ever feel the need to hurt yourself.” Thor slowly looked up at Loki with a face full of emotions.

“I don’t want your pity.” Loki spat at Thor and looked away. “And even if I wanted to inform you every time I felt that way, I couldn’t. Sometimes it comes in uncontrollable bursts I cannot anticipate.” Loki said with tears in his eyes. “Then, tell me afterwards? I want to help you brother.” Thor looked at his brother with pleading eyes. Loki looked up at his brother. For a moment, he looked innocent and it made Thor’s heart ache. “Fine. I will try.” Loki said, looking away. “Thank you!” Thor said, crushing his brother into a hug which Loki hesitantly returned. “I love you”, Thor whispered, hesitantly. Loki laughed, pulling away. “That’s enough emotions for today. Goodbye brother.” Loki said, hesitantly patting Thor’s shoulder. He went to walk out of the room and stopped at the door. He turned around. “Thank you brother, truely”, Loki said quietly, giving Thor a small, genuine smile. He left the room with a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest.

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That’s it! This is also my first time writing angst and I hope you enjoyed it!!

[fletchphoenix]

He’s Helpless

so i saw @betrayedtraitor ‘s post about Donella being the ultimate mom at the varigo wedding and couldn’t resist writing some supportive Donella :)) enjoy! I’ll try to link the OG post but ya!

--------------

Donella was happy.

Sure, Hugo had fucked up royally and betrayed her in order to help his boyfriend open the Eternal Library and, consequently, get possessed by her old partner, but he had found his happiness. She wasn’t one for sappy shit like soulmates or changing yourself at the last minute for the one you loved in order to make them happy - she used to despise it and think it was some bullshit trope for lonely people to indulge in, but somehow her son had well and truly proved her wrong.

She’d trained him up since he was a child to be the exact model of what she was - a thief. She taught him how to defend himself from attackers if he had to, how to steal and remove any trace that he was ever there, hell, she’d even trained him that the world was cruel and unforgiving, and that any hope you had would be crushed in an instant. She taught him love was simply something that people used to build you up and make you think you had purpose before they revoked it almost immediately. She really thought he’d accepted her ideals fully.

And then Varian came along.

Of course it would’ve been Ulla’s son to change her son’s mind. He’d inherited the moonstone blue, wide and curious eyes that his mother had, and her obsession with alchemy that she’d also passed on to her son. Maybe that’s why Hugo had gotten so attached to him, having someone so similar to his age and with the same interests, of course after years of having just Donella around him who was interested in alchemy, he’d instantly connect with someone else with that very interest. 

It didn’t surprise her when Hugo had told her that he and Varian were together romantically. In fact, she had a bet going with Cyrus to see how long it was taken (which, by the way, she’d won, thank you very much) and supported the couple endlessly. They were adorable together, the pair clearly loving each other more than anything else in the universe and willing to do anything for each other.

What did surprise her was how long the proposal took. It took far too long for the pair to finally decide to propose, Donella was sure she’d turn to ash before they even decided to bring up the option to each other. So when it happened, needless to say she celebrated silently and tore into Hugo as though she were a starving animal and he was a piece of meat.

“I am very disappointed in you, Hugo. Very very disappointed.” She declared, pacing across the marble floor in the hallway, the heels of her boots clicking against it as her son gripped onto the hand of his now-fiance. They must’ve been scared, both boys shaking in each other’s arms before she turned her head to look at them. “I mean, really. You’re my son and you didn’t even propose first! I seriously can’t believe it! You seriously took so long that he had to take matters into his own hands!” 

“Oh my g-Mom, you literally had me terrified!” Hugo complained as he leant forward, frowning at Donella and kissing Varian’s forehead as Varian cackled from laughter. Donella smiled softly and subtly as they held each other, nodding in approval towards her son-in-law before turning her back to them.

“All jokes aside, I really am happy for you two. I’m just disappointed it took you so long considering how many hours I’ve sat through you gushing about Varian and how he’s the ‘only person in the world for you’.” Hugo’s face flushed at that comment, his fiance smirking as Donella chuckled. “Anyway, get back to the party.” She ushered them back in with a smile before the widest grin in her life appeared on her face and she headed back in.

It was her proudest moment for her son to come to her for advice about her vows, though she’d never expected for his original draft to be so...long. She swore he’d been going on and on about the boy’s freckles for a whole month before finally moving on to something else. It was her fault - she’d tried and tried and tried to stop the boy from talking too much when he was a child, though it was a habit he never broke out of. He made a massive deal about a lot, and though it was useful in their previous line of work, they were good, (mostly) non-thieving people, and the need for an overbearing and..very weirdly specifically detailed explanation of something was no longer a necessity. 

“You’ve been talking for 40 years about freckles, Hugo. Just-come here and let me show you how to do it.” she complained, leaning forward and taking a quill, dipping it generously in some ink before proceeding to examine the speech. Editing and crossing things out left,right and centre, she finally settled back with a sigh and looked at her son. “I know you love him, Hugo. I can tell. But seriously, some of this is just...not needed at all.”

“What do you mean?” the blonde asked cluelessly, sitting beside her and fixing his tie, “I think all of it is quite relevant.”

“You talked about how he snorts when he laughs and how many freckles he has, followed by a detailed description about their shapes, sizes and if they join together to make a constellation. That..it’s sweet but I felt like slamming my head into a wall and praying that it knocked me out completely for three days. Just...try something like this.” She began, picking up some parchment from the table and beginning to scribble down some notes, handing the sheet to her helpless son. “That can be your starting point.”

Hugo took a glance at the paper, cringing at the monotonous words on the page. “I...okay, these are truly something else. I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.” He muttered, before something flashed over his face. “Oh ma. That reminds me. Me and V have been talking and uh..we wanted to know if you want to officiate the wedding. We thought you’d be the best pick for it so...what do you think?”

Donella’s heart soared at the prospect, though her face would never reveal the true extent of her emotions. Her son was really giving her the honour of officiating the wedding after everything that had happened between them. A tear must’ve welled in her eye, as Hugo’s face shifted into a frown. “Ma, are you okay? You..you don’t have to do it.”

Hesitantly, she pulled her son into a tight embrace, the boy seeming stunned before reciprocating the hug and holding onto her. “Yes-yes I’ll do that for you, Hugo. It would be an honour.” Donella declared, her face buried in her son’s shoulder as she let a few stray tears loose.

She was so proud of him when he read out his vows without a hitch, the abridged version of the original speech was marginally better thanks to meticulous planning from their combined efforts. “Are you crying, ma’am?” Cyrus questioned as her son stood hand in hand with his husband at the altar, their fingers intertwined and looking picture perfect, almost as though they were in a dream.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Cyrus.” the woman declared as she raised a tissue to dab at her eyes while the ceremony continued in front of her. Hugo’s eyes shone with pure joy, matching his husband’s gleeful expression as they finally exchanged rings and shared a kiss with each other. She could even hear their friends, notably the Queen, King, Star princess and Firecracker (as Hugo had declared them) cheering and laughing out loud as they finally tied the knot.

And though she would later deny it, she still indulged herself in a few glasses of wine and rambled on and on about how Hugo was as a child, despite his pleas and begs for her to stop. She couldn’t help it - she was a mother after all and she was sure Ulla would’ve done the same if she were here.

Still though, as she looked at her son and the way he shared his first dance with his husband, he knew the pair were destined to be together, and that fate truly did exist as well as soulmates and all that lovey dovey shit she had been so quick to deny prior to their meeting. So as Donella leant back against the body of her once-henchman Cyrus, whose other arm was wrapped around his wife, she accepted the fact that she was content with whatever the future had to hold for the pair.

Donella was happy.

[hopelessromanticvirgo]

Ground Control To Us

Sobbe social media au 3.4

Chapter 3.3

Sander knew it was a wrong thing to do.

He knew he shouldn't have done it but the curiosity got the best of him. The chance of finding the boy he got so attracted to, past few weeks, was so big that he couldn't think about anything else.

And he was ready to do anything, ready to go through in each one of his 457239 dm's on his Instagram.

Even if he got lucky and found him, he still felt like he shouldn't read whatever the boy sent him. The other half of his heart was telling him that the boy who obviously sent him this, knew that it might had gotten read but the other half was making him remember how his mysterious crush told him that he knew after a while that, they would never get opened so he kept texting him.

And it specially made him more guilty and curious when he read the word "diary" in his messages.

What could he mean by that? Sander wanted to know.

Senne was right, he wasn't being rational and all of this mess was insane, just straight up crazy but Sander couldn't help his self, he got sucked into their conversations.

He started this thing to see what others thought about him, and he definitely got his answer but when this person appeared to know a lot about Sander, he was intrigued, wanted to figure out and see more. It became some kind of challenge, how much information would he be able to gather from this fan until it wasn't a competition with his self anymore. Until he wasn't texting him just for a video, but only to read how his day was going, only to listen to his rambling, only to feel normal while he was talking to him.

And he didn't realize when he started to act more personal towards him.

It just kind of happened, at the same time.

It felt like going down the stairs, he was in full control at first but then he didn't look down and slipped, and kept rolling and rolling and rolling until he fell right at the end of the stairs.

Originally, he was already going there but his slip up made him get down more quickly. And the worst thing was that it hurt when he fell.

And he was hurting now too.

By this time, Sander knows all about his symptoms, a horrible illness of his that he can't seem to run away from and he felt it creeping up on his back past few days, and he was waiting for it to finally explode, shatter everything around him into the pieces. And he was sure, if he kept going with his plan, it would completely destroy him.

Unfortunately, he couldn't stop now. It was already hard, with his fame and job and living up to other's expectations of his, and he definitely didn't need another thing to worry about, didn't need a stupid crush on somebody he didn't even know the name of. Senne was right, it was a very bad idea.

It was all he could think about while going though his dms. It's been already two and half hours since he started and he needed to take a break or his eyes would pop out. He would go in a new message, see what it was and log out without accepting it so the person wouldn't see that he saw. It was kind of ironic to think about, how this boy made him finally go though his text messages.

All his fans would be thankful for him. There were a lot of stuff and sweet things people had to say but he paid them no mind because he simply couldn't.

What will he do if he finds him?

He has no idea.

Would he read the messages or just stalk his account?

He also doesn't know.

All he needs right now is to just see his face.

It would be so devastating if his account would be yet another fan page without his pictures in it, or if it will look like a fake account, clear and empty.

God, what if he knows it's Sander and there are no messages and he just wants to mess with him?

There are so many other options that would be more logical than Sander finding the boy he's slowly falling in love with.

He never believed all this stuff, first glance of love, or meeting their "soulmates" through the internet but here he was, desperately searching for him without knowing his name or username, or profile picture, or anything.

What if after he told Sander that, he deleted the messages?

Sander groaned and shut his phone off, pulled his hair with his fingers.

He's trying to find a needle in a haystack and it won't work since it's nearly impossible.

Why is he so stupid, why didn't he ask his name?

Would it have him away?

God, so many things already gave him away. The boy straight up told him that he sounded like Sander just for his little cough, how more deep can he get his self in already?

He just needs to see him.

He made a little deal in his head earlier, if he finds him, that will mean that it's meant to be.

He went to the kitchen and made a coffee to clear his head.

It was his own fault, he should have stopped this when the week one was over. It feels like so much time has already passed since that.

He feels like they have been talking for years now.

Sander can't think about life where he wasn't in it. It feels so normal and usual.

Like it was already like this.

He also feels extremely bad, he lying to him, manipulating him, hiding the truth from him and he dreads the moment, he will have to tell him. And he's scared.

Why did he get his self in this mess? Why does he always get his self in the trouble?

He'd always use cheesy "I don't find trouble, the trouble finds me" line but in the end, it was always him, who couldn't get enough, who had to know a little bit more, who had to dive in deep and even if it never got him to a good place, he kept repeating the same thing all over again and again.

He took his phone again, pushed again the countertop with a cup inhis left hand while scrolling though his letters and after ten or fifteen minutes, he saw what he was looking for.

His eyes went wide and before he got over his shock, his hands went numb. He managed to clutch his phone close to his body but the hand which was holding the cup completely lost any power in itself and horrible piercing voice knocked the air around him.

"Sander?!" He could hear his friend calling him from the other room but was too shocked to even look up from the screen.

After ignoring his name and "what happened? Are you okay?" for a few times, he heard footsteps coming towards the kitchen.

"Dude! I'm talking to you." He finally looked at Senne's confused face and just murmured with a soft, sweet voice, afraid of what he was going to say : "I found him."

"What?"

"Fuck! Senne! I found him."

Sander doesn't know what he must be feeling right now, all he knows is that he's speechlessly happy.

"Found who?"

His furrowed eyebrows only made Sander more aware of what he was actually saying and it made him more excited than ever.

"Him!"

He tries to put his whole force on this one word and when Senne still couldn't understand he added : "the boy!"

He really needs to know his name so he can stop calling him by pronouns.

"A fan?" Senne finally started working with him and Sander could only nod his head aggressively. And when he saw Senne's eyes going wide, it really hit him.

He found him.

That could only mean that it was meant to be.

"How?"

Honestly, Sander doesn't have an answer to that. He's still startled.

He's sure, if his boy would be here right now, he'd say it was the universe operating and Sander would only agree, it was definitely something from the sky and the stars.

Sander shrugged his shoulder, still couldn't perform words from this mouth.

"Wait. How all this happened?" Sander realized that he had to say at least something. He felt his hands shaking.

"It's a long story."

And before Senne had a chance to say something back to him, Sander dared and look at the username.

Sterkerdanijzer

Who is he?

"Wait, I need to sit down." He said and while he tried to go back to the living room, he slipped on the floor which was still indeed very wet with his coffee, but fortunately Senne was close to give him a hand.

"You are alive?" He joked but was really concerned for his friend.

Sander nodded and went back to the couch and after Senne cleaned the coffee from the ground, he went with him and sat down beside his friend still, who was still staring at his screen like it would disappear if he looked away.

"So? Will you tell me how you found him?" Senne tried to knock him out of it.

"I told you it's a long story. He told me something and I searched for it and I found him."

That literally didn't make any sense but since when does anything makes sense with him?

"How can you be sure that it's him?"

That was a pretty good question, he couldn't be sure. He hasn't even read the messages, he just saw some pieces and he just knew.

"I just feel like it must be him."

Some weird emotion inside his body was telling him that.

"Okay? Aren't you going to see what he looks like?"

Senne asked since he saw how Sander was only staring at his request messages.

"I'm nervous."

He finally confessed.

"Of what?"

"I don't know. I didn't want anything more than seeing his face and now I'm not so sure if I should."

"You want to, right?"

Sander looked directly at his face when he heard this question.

"I really want to."

"Then what are you waiting for?" He smiled and pulled one of his eyebrows up, teasingly.

And Sander knew, whatever he would see in there, he wouldn't be alone, his best friend would be there with him.

He doesn't know why he makes this that big of a deal but for him, it is.

"Okay." He whispered and clicked on the profile.

He didn't know what he was expecting, from his profile picture he could see that he was exactly the same age and had the figure, he imagined him to have and for his benefit, Senne wasn't right and he wasn't some creepy 40 years old man.

God, he was perfect.

Sander hasn't seen anybody this beautiful before.

He was already a goner from only texting him and now, looking at him, he freaking lost it.

"Fuck." He whispered.

He opened the second picture which had his face in it and his heart started beating so fast.

The only thing his mind could process was that, he was dead drop gorgeous and he was the one.

"Huh, who would have thought? He's cute."

He heard Senne told him and could only agree.

Who would have thought?

* * *

Sander isn't proud of his self at all. He spent the whole day stalking his account, his friends accounts.

He already knew who was whose crush or who was whose ex. It was crazy how many information one can gather from an Instagram account.

He was living in Antwerp as well, and Sander has never felt this close and this far away from the person at the same time.

The only thing he could think was how they were "equal", now that Sander was scrolling though his posts.

He still had no idea about his name, somehow the boy just didn't want to share it.

What would happen if he clicked "follow back" button? Would he die from the heart attack when he will see his notifications? Or if he liked one of his pictures?

He's not going to take any chances, not yet at least.

And the most interesting thing he found is that his friends had a YouTube channel and he literally ran to their account to check them out.

He didn't know what to think about his friends. He once mentioned that they had no idea about his account and stuff.

Were they close? Were the nice? Supportive? He has so many questions, all of course unanswered. He wishes that he could just ask the boy everything he wanted to know.

He wants to learn about his whole life, what he does, what he likes, who is he when nobody's watching.

Sander saw that he wasn't in a lot of videos but there were a few where he could be seen from the thumbnail.

Senne has been coming in his room constantly to check up on him and each time he was bombed with questions like "it's he the cutest?" And "look at him" and "okay I found when his birthday is" and so much more.

And once he heard his voice, he couldn't stop, so he watched them again until he had each spoken word memorized.

He finally heard his name and realized how much it suited him.

Robbe.

God, what is he suppose to do now?

He isn't ready for what's about to come, he never will be.

He still hasn't read any of his messages but he knows he has to.

It's not right thing to do but he doesn't care, he will do anything to get to know him better, now that he has finally found him.

And it was too late when he realized that it wasn't just a stupid crush and it wasn't just an attraction.

He thought that he was falling in love but now, he was sure, he wasn't just falling, he was already dead drop on the ground, captivated.

Chapter 3.5

[marjansmarwani]

If it’s okay to ask for another prompt, #6, Tarlos please? If not you can absolutely just ignore this 😄

Feel free to ask for as many as you want! Here it is - it ended up being absolutely nothing like what I planned it to be, but that just happens some times and I have very little say in it.

I hope you enjoy it, and thanks for the request! 💕

----

Not anyone, you’re the one

Read on Ao3

Characters: Carlos Reyes, TK Strand, Owen Strand

Relationship: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand

Word Count: 3222

Prompt 6 - "you're bleeding"

---

In the aftermath of the solar flare, Carlos and TK have a heart to heart. 

----

“You’re bleeding.” 

There are so many things he should say to TK; wants to (needs to) say to TK, but when Carlos finally gets to his side in the aftermath; the first thing out of his mouth is an observation that is far from astute. For a moment the blood on TK’s shirt - far, far too close to the bandage covering a bullet wound that almost took TK from him before they had even had a chance to truly start - was all he could focus on. There was commotion everywhere, flashing lights and flames and sirens, but all Carlos could focus on is TK and the blood staining his shirt. 

TK shrugged in that almost self-conscious way of his; the way he was when he did not want the spotlight, or when he was hiding something. 

“It’s nothing, really,” he said with that shrug. Carlos arched a skeptical eyebrow but offered nothing more in challenge. It had been a long and traumatic afternoon - he could still feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Adding in the talk they had finished right before the world had gone to hell, now was probably not the best time to engage that particular desire. He had a feeling that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He didn’t want to pour his heart out to TK just yet - not here, not now. 

“If you say so,” he said instead. 

TK frowned at him and for a moment Carlos thought he might have actually been disappointed that Carlos hadn’t pushed him. But then they were surrounded by his team and the frown was gone and Carlos was sure he had imagined it. There is fussing and Carlos knows Judd doesn’t mean it when he rants about how TK is a danger magnet that should never be allowed in public unsupervised, and the others exchange skeptical looks at TK’s insistence that he is fine, really. Carlos isn’t sure exactly how he fits here in this group which has clearly morphed into some kind of ragtag family unit. He’s not sure how to interact here; he’s not sure of his place. He mostly listens, studying the others as they interact. They all strive to be close to TK as if they need assurances he is still with them (a sentiment Carlos fully understands). There are small touches; little moments that are exploited for tactility. A chance to feel for themselves that he is still here; still breathing. Glances around show Carlos that he is not the only one fixated on the bloodstain. It is too soon and far too close for comfort. He’s not sure where he fits here, but he does know that they are all on the same page. They’re all allies on this front and between them, they manage to get TK onto the ambulance right beside the bus driver. 

It’s not until the doors swing closed behind him and the ambulance pulls away that the remainder of the 126 starts to show their fear. 

“I swear to Christ that kid is going to give me gray hair before I’m 40,” Judd laments. 

“How do you think I feel?” Captain Strand asks drily, running a hand through his salt and pepper dusted hair. “This didn’t happen on its own you know.” 

“Is he going to be okay?” Mateo asks softly, eyes still tracking the ambulance as it drives away from the scene. 

Paul claps him on the shoulder, “Of course he is. He probably just pulled his stitches acting the hero. They’ll clean it up and restitch before sending him home.”

“It’s lucky for her he was here. I don’t think we would have been able to get to her in time,” Marjan says lowly. This brings the rest of the crew and their false bravados back to center and their expressions grow darker. Carlos is speaking up before he even knows what he is going to say: “He’s lucky you guys showed up too. If it weren’t for you…” he trailed off, but the words he left unsaid hung within the group. Their eyes are on him too, as if they are just really registering his presence. There is a raised eyebrow from Judd, a knowing look from Paul; but no one says anything. It hits him again that no one knew about them before the shooting. Even now they have no way of knowing what transpired between them here today. 

Though to be fair, Carlos isn’t too sure he knows that either. 

Captain Strand, bless him, clears his throat and pulls his team’s attention away from Carlos and back to the matter and the scene at hand. 

 “TK will be fine,” he says bracingly, with such surety Carlos almost thinks he believes it, “in the meantime, we have a scene to clear.” He then turns to Judd, “I hate to ask again, but would you mind taking over? I need to call the Deputy Chief, make sure...” 

“I can head to the hospital,” Carlos says abruptly, the words out of his mouth before his mind has even processed them. “It’s my day off so I have the time and you guys have this to deal with.” He trails off, gesturing vaguely at the mess surrounding them. 

The Captain looks torn. It’s obvious that he doesn’t want to leave his team and a job unfinished, but the way his gaze keeps drifting towards the direction the ambulance left from betrays just how much he would like to drop everything and run to TK’s side; to see with his own eyes that he is okay. Eventually, he nods. 

“Thank you, Carlos, I appreciate that. I’d also really appreciate it if you could keep me updated if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course,” Carlos says quickly, understanding that it is not so much a request as it is a requirement. Captain Strand will not be able to stay here unless he is sure TK is okay, and it will be up to Carlos to make sure that he knows that.”I’ll let you know what’s going on as soon as I know.” 

The captain nods gratefully, some of the tension leaking from his shoulders. He smiles as Carlos and claps a hand on his shoulder, “I appreciate this son, thank you.”

“Not a problem,” Carlos assures him, even as his own mind is calling him a fool for getting involved. TK had essentially just dumped him not even an hour ago, and here he was spending his afternoon off heading to the hospital to wait for him. 

Not going really wasn’t an option though - he needed to know that TK was okay just as much as the captain did. If he was honest with himself, there was no version of this where he just went home. 

With a half-hearted wave in the general direction of the rest of the team and their curious looks, Carlos turned and headed back towards his car. Getting out of the area was easier than Carlos had anticipated and he arrived at the hospital before he was ready to face it. He allowed himself a few moments to sit in his car; to take a few deep breaths. There hadn’t been any time to process anything. It had been one thing after another - each thing coming one after another, determined to topple him blow by blow. And it wasn’t over yet. 

He allowed himself another deep breath and pulled himself out of his car. He needed to do this one last thing; have his heart shattered one last time before he could go home, call Michelle, and have a beer. He could do this. 

He entered the hospital and approached the information desk, waiting patiently for the nurse to finish her call. When she glanced up at him, he smiled - pushing his doubts and hurt back under the guise of practiced politeness. “I was looking for a TK Strand? He was brought in by ambulance a little while ago.” 

She returned his smile and turned her gaze to her computer. She typed and then looked back up, “We have a Tyler Kennedy Strand?” 

Carlos nodded, “Yes, that’s him. Would you be able to tell me where I could find him?” 

She glanced back at her screen, “He is currently in treatment, but it may take a while for him to be done. We’re pretty slammed here today and it appears his injuries were not priority ones” 

“Of course, I understand.” 

She looked up at him again, still smiling, “There’s a waiting room right outside the ER. Why don’t you take a seat there? It will likely be a while before you’ll be able to see him.” 

“I will, thank you, ma’am.” He left her with a parting smile and headed towards the waiting room indicated. It was crowded, and Carlos figured he shouldn’t be surprised. He had almost forgotten that this hadn’t happened to him in a bubble - the entire city had been affected. He wasn’t the only one having a rough day. In fact, judging by the look of the people and injuries he saw cramming into the ER waiting room, he was having a better day than most. 

He sighed as he sank into a chair with a view of the doors to the treatment bays and the nurse’s station. He allowed himself a moment to close his eyes. His nerves were fried. Between his conversation with TK, the shock of the accident, the fear of watching TK going into an overturned bus and then of watching him pulled out of a flaming bus - it had been a long day. He wanted nothing more to hide under his blankets and sleep for the next week, but he had a promise to keep. So instead he settled in and let his mind wander. 

One thing he hadn’t counted on when he had agreed to come here in Captain Strand’s stead, was the time for his mind to wander. He kept playing that conversation with TK over and over again in his head. The worst part of it, he mused, was that he couldn’t even be mad at TK. He had asked a question, and TK had given him the only answer he had. He hadn’t lied to him, he hadn’t tried to lead him on. He had done the right thing. 

It wasn’t his fault that it was also the thing that had crushed Carlos’s heart. 

He had known that there was only ever a 50/50 chance this thing with TK would work. It was chaotic from the beginning and doomed from the start. But things had been looking up. He had been so sure they were finally on the upswing; that things between them would finally be okay. That this was something he could rely on. 

Then TK had gotten shot and their short, sweet romance had been blown to hell. 

He knew that he had made an idiot of himself then, he knew he had put too much of himself on the line. But he had been so scared, and the thought of losing TK; of losing what they had overwhelmed his sensible nature.  His actions had pushed TK who was already in a vulnerable position; had forced him to confront his feelings in addition to the shock and pain and sheer novelty of being alive again. TK had been given too much to deal with all at once, and something had to give. 

Carlos had just selfishly hoped it wouldn’t be them. 

He let his mind wander as the waiting dragged on, studying the others in the waiting room. He tried to guess their stories, tried to piece together what had brought them here to this hospital today. Had any of them had their heart broken today too? 

The waiting stretched on and beyond a few texts exchanged with Captain Strand, Carlos spent most of it utterly unoccupied. He was just about to check the clock on the wall simply for something to do when the sight of a familiar striped shirt and a bloodstain that haunted his mind stepped out of the treatment bays and towards the nurse’s station. He watched as TK said something to the nurse and was handed some forms to fill out. 

Even though logically Carlos knew he had to be okay, he was pretty sure there was nothing could have made him feel better at this moment than seeing TK Strand up and filling out paperwork. He shifted anxiously in his seat and when TK handed the forms back to the nurse and turned towards the exit, he shot out of his seat and met him at the door. 

He called his name and TK froze, turning to look at Carlos with a bewildered expression. “Carlos?” he asked, “what are you doing here?” 

Here, Carlos paused. “Your dad wanted to come but he was still on shift and I didn’t have to work so I said I would because I figured you would need a ride home and...well I guess I’m here to pick you up.” 

TK raised an eyebrow and Carlos cringed. Smooth Reyes, he chided himself, not weird at all.

“You really drove out here and spent the past hour in the waiting room on your day off just to give me a ride home after I dumped you?” TK asked skeptically. 

Carlos cringed. Well, you put it like that…

But TK was shaking his head, “You’re too good to be true Carlos Reyes,” he said softly, “There was never any chance I deserved you.” 

Carlos looked up abruptly, expression furrowed, “What are you talking about?” 

“I never deserved you,” TK repeated, “you’re too good to be stuck with someone like me.” 

“TK, no…” 

“It’s true Carlos, you don’t have to lie to me.” 

Carlos just stared at him. He wasn’t entirely sure what was happening but he did know that it was nothing he had planned on. “Hey,” he said, “why don’t we get out of here and talk.” 

TK glanced around the crowded waiting room - including a few bored individuals who had taken an interest in their conversation - and nodded. Carlos gave him a small smile and gestured towards the door. Once they were outside he led TK to his car and climbed in. Once they were settled and the doors were shut he turned to face TK, speaking before TK could get a word in. “First of all, that’s ridiculous. And even if it were true I think I get some say in the matter and I want to be with you. Whatever it is you think I deserve or you don’t deserve doesn’t change that. Secondly, how are you feeling?” 

TK blinked, mind whirring as he considered all the implication of Carlos’s words. “I’m fine,” he said eventually, “they redid my stitches and I’m under strict instructions to not enter any more flaming buses.” 

Carlos nodded, “That’s good advice, you should follow it.” 

TK grinned at him, and Carlos returned it. Too soon the smile slipped off his face and he sighed, “I think we need to talk Carlos.”

Carlos swallowed and turned in his seat so he was facing TK and nodded. 

“First of all,” TK started, “I’m sorry. What I said earlier...I panicked. I wasn’t sure what I wanted and I panicked. It’s been a weird few days for me and I…” 

He trailed off and Carlos raised an eyebrow and offered, “panicked?” 

TK nodded.

Carlos sighed again, “It’s okay TK, you’ve been through a lot. I shouldn’t have tried to push you. It’s okay if you don’t know what you want right now--” 

“But I do,” TK interrupted. When Carlos gave him a skeptical look he continued, “I do know, now. I want to be a firefighter, here in Austin. I want to be with you Carlos; I want to give this a try - if you’re willing.” 

Carlos stared at him, mouth agape. This was what he had wanted, but he hadn’t allowed himself to even hope that it could actually happen. He was mulling it over in his mind, replaying the moment to make sure it was real when he realized abruptly that TK was still awaiting an answer. 

“Yes. I mean, yeah - I’m willing. Ready, even.” He followed it up with a grin, that TK returned even if it was strained. 

“Before you make any hasty decisions, I think I need to tell you some things. You deserve to know the whole story of what you’re getting into before you jump in.” 

Carlos nodded and TK started. He told him about his past, how he had been an addict who struggled to get clean. How he had found Alex, and how that had fallen apart. How he had relapsed; how he had ODed. How he had ended up here; not ready for a new relationship, still licking old wounds when they had met. Carlos let him speak uninterrupted, mentally putting the pieces into place in his own story. It explained so many things and made his heart ache for the other man. He had been through so much, but he was still trying; still clawing his way up to the surface, fighting all the way. Carlos was proud of him. 

He said as much when TK finished his tale, and TK scoffed, “proud at me for being an addict?” 

Carlos shook his head, “Proud of you for fighting, for beating this. I’m sure it hasn’t been easy, but you’ve been putting in the work. I don’t know if I would have been strong enough.” 

“You would have,” TK said softly but Carlos shook his head, “Maybe, maybe not. It doesn’t change the fact that what you have done is nothing short of amazing TK, and I am impressed by you. You said you don’t think you deserve me, but I think it might be the other way around. What have I ever done to deserve someone so strong and resilient?” 

TK looked like he wanted to say something, but the words seemed to die in his throat. He looked overwhelmed. Carlos reached out a hand and placed it on his knee, “How about we stop focusing on who does or doesn’t deserve who and just focus on how lucky we are to have found each other,” he suggested gently. 

TK nodded, looking up at him with a smile and watery eyes, “Unbelievably lucky,” he said so quietly that Carlos almost didn’t hear him.  Carlos smiled back at him and they sat there in a warm and welcoming silence for a long time. Eventually, TK placed a hand on top of Carlos’s and squeezed it lightly. 

“We should go somewhere and talk some more,” he began, “but there’s another conversation I need to have. Would you mind driving me to the 126?” 

Carlos nodded, “As long as you change your shirt. I don’t think I can stand to see your blood for much longer. It reminds me of how close we came to not having this.” 

TK glanced down at the ruined shirt and the ominous bloodstain. “I think this is it for this shirt,” he agreed mournfully, “it’s a shame though, I really liked it.” 

Carlos shrugged as he turned the car on, “I did too, but I think I’ll get over it. I like you more.”

Read on Ao3 

[sunflowerhae]

-> Forgotten Love [M.L]

Requested by • @sweetie-yoongi7 hope you like it bb!✨🐌🍄

•3.7k

warnings• slight verbal abuse, language, a fight 👊💥😤

“Write about an experience where someone you love hurt you. Explain the situation, what was done or said, how you both responded, and what the outcome was. Must be 5 full pages long, and in MLA format. God, how annoying is that? I mean, what do I write about, my mom not letting me get McDonald’s one time because we had food at home?” You scoffed while pushing yourself back into your chair at the cool, air conditioned coffee shop you currently found yourself in. Summer was just officially ending, and October was creeping it’s way into the year, which meant the air wasn’t exactly hot, but it definitely wasn’t cool enough to walk around with a jacket on. You found solace in the beige and dark brown toned drink house, that smelled like coffee beans and lured in customers with its smooth jazz playlist. You were thankful Mark picked this place to have your little date in between classes, for the chill ambiance calmed down your irritated interior.

While you loved your creative writing class, and you absolutely adored your professor, you couldn’t help but be slightly pissed off at the writing prompt she randomly assigned you. You stared at it for what seemed like hours during class, no specific moment like described coming to your conscious. You were still thinking about it as you finally looked up at Mark’s shrunken frame, and the prompt was easily forgotten as worry took over your emotions.

“Babe? Are you okay?” At your concerned tone, Mark lifted his head to meet you eyes, before quickly looking back down at his coffee. He kept glancing between your eyes and his drink, while you patiently waited for him to explain what was bothering him.

Mark scratched the back of his neck, before looking back up at you one final time, and huffing out a soft sigh. “I know what you can write about.” He had barely even mumbled it, so neither of you were surprised when you asked him to repeat himself.

“I..know what you can write about.” The way Mark refused to look you in the eyes, and the tone of his voice, lead you to believe you knew what he was talking about, and you knew he didn’t want to say it.

You and Mark were an amazing couple.

You liked the same music, you both had the same sense of humor, and you were both equally loving towards each other and your friends. You were the two oldest people in your younger friend group, and two of the youngest in your older friend group. You both balanced it out quite well, and set an example for both groups as a healthy relationship while you did it.

But that’s not to say you were perfect.

It was a year ago, to be exact. You were both at the beginning of your sophomore year of college, and the priorities were starting to stack for both of you. Mark -being a music major- had to write a song and collab with the dance majors to make a dance for the song in about two months and turn it in as a beginning of the year exam. Meanwhile, you -being a film major- had to make a small movie using the theater kids as your actors; due in a month. To top on to all the stress, you had both recently moved in together, and had barely started unboxing before the projects got thrust at you.

You hadn’t noticed he was distancing himself from you, at first.

You were so distracted with your project, that every time he would blow off eating dinner together, or would stay at the school until well into the night, you didn’t complain much; just trying to finish your project and get a good grade. It wasn’t until a month later that you started to see that something was wrong. You had finished your project and had gotten amazing grades, and all you wanted to do was go out on a nice date with your boyfriend; something you hadn’t done in about a month. You texted him the time and place to meet you at, to dress nice, and that you’d be waiting with a surprise. You had seen the small “read 3:14pm” under the text, and while you were a bit puzzled as to why he didn’t respond, you didn’t worry about it too much - seeing as lately that was his thing - and just got ready for the night you hoped would be just as amazing as the day was.

You thought you looked pretty beautiful.

Your hair was nicely done, your nails were painted marks favorite color, and the black, tight dress with sleeves hanging off the side accentuated your body and breasts perfectly. You had even sent Haechan a picture to make sure it was “hot,” to which he replied that Mark’s a lucky man, which made you smile. You were looking fine tonight, and while you had had a reason to celebrate, you couldn’t wait to give Mark your all tonight.

{for more effect, I suggest playing It Happened Quiet by AURORA here}

You took your seat in the dimly lit restaurant that was definitely too expensive for a music and film major, and waited for your water that was requested to the waiter to arrive. With a quick glance at the time on your phone, you realized Mark wouldn’t be here for another ten minutes or so. So you just sat there, trying to distract yourself from the excessive amount of bread on your table, and watched the clock count down until 7:30, when Mark should be arriving.

7:40 rolled around and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring at the door like it just did you super dirty. While it was just 10 minutes late, Mark was never one to be late.

Okay, that’s a lie, but he was never late to these type of things. And you perfectly timed it so that he would have time to get home from school, change, and then get to the restaurant. You quickly shot Mark a “you on your way?” text, before setting down your phone, trying not to be the clingy girlfriend, and keep your hope that Mark would be there soon.

Yet, by the time the clock struck 9, and your bread was stale and you had drank enough water to definitely get a bladder infection if you didn’t pee soon, your hope was completely dead. You silently got up from your seat and gave a small smile and nod to the hostess - who shot a sympathetic smile to you - before pushing the door of the restaurant open and walking toward your car.

You tried not to cry on the way home, but when you walked through the front door to see a dark and cold apartment, indicating that Mark had not yet come home, you couldn’t help but let the tears fall at the thought of something happening to him. You had called and texted him multiple times, and when he answered none of them, you even called the hospital to see if they had seen a patient that fit Mark’s description, or had someone named Mark Lee come in. You called all the hospitals in your area, in fact, but nothing came up. Your last hope was someone you actually didn’t want to call. Not because you didn’t want to call her, but because you didn’t want what you’re thinking to be true. But when all of your friends said they hadn’t heard from him, you had almost no choice.

“Hello?” Her chipper voice on the other end made you want to cringe, but you held it together.

“If Mark is in the room, don’t say my name. It’s y/n. Is mark with you?”

Yerim honestly didn’t know what to say. She stuttered a bit on the other end, before clearing her throat and mumbling a, “yes”.

You sighed and gave a half hearted, “okay, don’t tell him I called or anything, okay? Can you just, like, pretend you never even talked to me? Thanks Yeri,” hanging up the phone before she could answer.

You didn’t know how you felt about Mark working on a school project with his ex. When you had met Mark, it was at a college party during freshman year, around a year or so ago, actually. He had just been through a terrible breakup with his high school sweetheart who was - you guessed it - Yeri. If you were being honest with yourself, you knew you were the rebound. You just, fell so hard for him in the short time you had known him that, it didn’t really matter. You guessed somewhere along the way, Mark actually did fall for you, because he stayed, and he said he loved you, and you moved in together. Because of this, and because of the fact that Yeri was never brought up, you didn’t feel too insecure about your relationship.

But now that you’re sitting on the couch in silence, thinking about the fact that your boyfriend ditched your date to hang out with his ex, you can’t help but feel a bit unconfident in where your standing was with Mark. You slowly started realizing that Mark had, in fact, been distancing himself the past month; choosing to instead spend time with his ex-girlfriend instead of the girl that he claimed he loved.

Jealously and insecurities bit away at your insides when you heard the door slowly being unlocked from the outside. Looking at your phone, you realized it was 11:32pm. You had called Yeri at 10:15, so you suppose she honored your request to not tell Mark you called.

Mark was surprised to see you sitting on the couch when he walked in. He had figured that you would have gone to bed already. It was quite late for a Friday for you, seeing as this was the day you usually went to bed early; tired from the week. He felt guilty looking at you, so he choose to train his eyes on anything besides your crumbled figure on the couch. Meanwhile, you stood up, trying to catch his gaze.

“Mark. Where were you tonight?” Your harsh infliction made Mark slightly flinch. He wanted to apologize, because he knows what he missed. And when he finally did look at you, he felt even more guilty, because you looked quite upset about the situation, and you also looked absolutely beautiful tonight. Your black dress fit your body and extenuated your curves perfectly. Your hair was done gorgeously, and he could tell you spent a long time on your makeup. Mark did want to apologize, but when you said,

“Do you even care about this relationship, I mean it seems like all you’ve done lately is ignore me-”

Mark had almost seen red. Every little thing bothering him lately just...boiled over. He wasn’t thinking before he spoke, which never worked for him; this time wasn’t so different.

“God, shut up! Just shut up! All you do is talk! This is why I prefer to spend my time with Yeri, because she’s not so extreme like you always are! You’re not even half the women Yeri is, and you’ll never be! Sometimes I wish I hadn’t picked you to be my rebound for her an-“ Mark stopped himself from talking by clamping his hand over his mouth with wide eyes.

He hadn’t meant that.

He had not meant that.

He was just so upset by everything lately, and he spoke without thinking, like an absolute idiot.

But you didn’t know that. The tears streaming out of your eyes and the wobbling chin showed that for him. He reached out for you and took a step forward, only for you to take a step back, which basically broke Mark in half.

“Y/n I...” Nothing was said between you too, what was there to be said? To you, Mark had finally shown how he had really felt for the past month or so. You gave him one last look, before walking past him, putting on your heels - which were the fastest thing you could slip on - and quickly opening the door.

At the sound of the door, Mark snapped out of his daze, and rushed after you. “Y/n, no! Give me the keys, you can’t drive right now!”

Your tears had, in fact, gotten worse, but you said nothing to Mark as you picked up your pace to the parking lot of your apartments. Mark almost caught up with you, but you sped up even faster, which silently baffled him because you were wearing heals.

You finally got into the car and quickly got in to the drivers seat and locked the door just as mark arrived at the door. He was practically begging you not to go, and pleading to open the door. You just cried more and put your keys into the ignition, before backing out and driving out; Mark feeling like he was watching his whole life drive away from him.

{for more effect, I suggest playing Forgotten Love by AURORA here. You may have to play it multiple times.}

It had been three months since that incident. Three months since you and Mark talked. Three months of you being single. You, unfortunately, had a basic math class with Mark, and while you two used to sit in the corner together, you now both sat on opposite sides of the classroom. Or you in the front - him in the back. Wherever the first one in sat, the other sat on the opposite side.

Mark felt like he went through hell and back in those three months. He felt incredibly bad for what he said to you, and the fact that after that night, he didn’t try to get you back at all. The Monday after, you just sat on opposite ends, quietly agreeing that it was over. You had gotten all your stuff from the apartment, and luckily Haechan had a spare room you could live in.

Speaking of Haechan, your friend group was absolutely baffled when you both told them you had broken up. It had seemed like just a month before, you two were completely in love with each other; on the same page and everything. Then a month later; it’s over. They didn’t know who they should invite where, but you both reassured them (seperately. You both were just secretly on the same page still, without knowing it.) that you would be fine at the same social events.

You, of course, didn’t factor in that you would be watching your ex-boyfriend bring girls up to random rooms in his friends frat during parties. And that at bonfires, you would see him kissing random girls cheeks from across the fire. Or that, when you all had a group study date, he would bring a girl that none of you knew. You didn’t factor in that your ex-boyfriend would actively go out of his way to hurt you.

Truthfully, Mark didn’t do it to hurt you. He did it because if he didn’t hook up with girls at frat parties, he would drink too much and end up trying to kiss you. And if he didn’t flirt with girls at bonfires, he would spend the whole time staring at your from across the fire. And if he didn’t bring a girl to the study dates, he would break his pencils in anger when jaemin would wrap his arm around you in affection. But, at every event, no matter who he was with, Mark always failed.

He couldn’t stop stealing glances at you from across the fire while you laughed at something Nayeon - Johnny’s girlfriend - said to you. He couldn’t stop himself from breaking his pencils under the table when jaemin played with the tips of your hair. And he always ended up leaving the girls before anything happened at frat parties because he couldn’t stop wishing it was you.

It was actually at a frat party that Mark had gotten you back.

You were trying to have a good time. You didn’t come to the frat parties much, because the pain of seeing Mark lead a girl upstairs hurt you so much, you felt like your chest was on fire. But Haechan had all but begged you show up to this one, and you would have never declined anyway; It was Taeil’s birthday, after all.

You were dancing with Dahyun and Chaeyoung when you felt two hands grip your waist. You expected it to be one of the guys, so you turned with a smile on your face, only to come face to face with a man you had never met. The smile on your face dropped, and you took a step back from his grip.

He gave you a sick smile, and moved forward, back into your space.

“Hey, pretty girl. Wanna dance?”

“No.” You exclaimed disgustingly, before trying to move away from the unknown man. However, that proved difficult as his grip on your wrist was quite violent, and strong. You winced, and kept tugging on your hand, to no avail.

“Leave me alone, I don’t want to dance with you.” You kept pushing your arm back, but he just tugged you closer to his chest. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, and felt sick to your stomach at what was about to happen. At the thought, you started wiggling out of his grip at a faster speed.

“Bitch, stop moving-“

“Call her a bitch one more fucking time, asshole.” You opened your eyes to see a small group has formed around you, your mystery creeper, and..Mark?!

“Get lost, man. This ones mine.”

Mark was seeing red again.

“She’s...not ....PROPERTY!” and with that final statement, Mark swung his fist and you ducked just in time for the weirdo to be struck in the face and loosen his grip on you completely. You pushed yourself forward, and ran behind Mark, to the open arms of your friends, who - as you understand - ran to get mark the minute they saw you struggling.

Mark fought this dude almost twice his size for a minute, and he was about to be taken out, before he locked eyes with you, and the power surged through him. One final punch to the unknown asshole, and he was on floor. Everyone cheered, and some people were already picking up his body, chanting “POOL! POOL! POOL!” But the noise faded out as Mark strides up to you, takes your hand, and drags you upstairs. He pushes you both into a bathroom, where you suddenly take charge as you force him down on the seat, and look through the cabinet for a first aid kit.

You and Mark say nothing as you rub his cut with alcohol. At the sudden sting, Mark hisses and places his hands on your hips, gripping them harshly to push himself through the burn. You can’t help but let your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of the love of your life’s hands on you again. You felt like you had lived a thousand years without water, and were suddenly given a water bottle.

You didn’t realize how long you stood there, relishing in the feeling of Marks hands on you. Mark had opened his eyes, to see you with your eyes closed and you hands clasped together in front of your chest - the cotton ball resting in your hands. Mark pulled you closer to him with a whimper, and when you opened your eyes back, you saw that you were significantly closer to Mark, and that he had tears threatening to fall.

With a cough, you looked back at the first aid kit and pushed yourself out of Mark’s strong grip. Another couple of minutes went by in silence, before Mark finally let out a soft, “I’m sorry.”

Your movements halted, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look down at the sad boys eyes.

“I spoke before thinking. I didn’t really mean the things I said, I was just stressed out from school, a-and, fuck I don’t know, y/n. I just..”

Mark was crying now, and he leaned down and placed his hands in his hands. You stepped back in surprise with wide eyes. “I just want you back. I want my girlfriend back. I want to love you again and spend a decade and then some apologizing for what I said. I’m such a fucking idiot I know I don’t deser-“

You shut him up by pushing his shoulders back up, sitting on his lap with your legs on either side of him (terribly hard to do on a toilet, but you’re a master), and kissing him like a woman starved. Mark quickly falls into your lips, and brings his hands up and under your butt, effectively scooping you up a bit.

You don’t know how long you and Mark sat there kissing, but when Yuta walked into the bathroom to pee and had to see two twenty year olds kissing, he never let you live it down.

You smile fondly at the memory, before looking back up at your lover, awkwardly sitting across from you. Before you know it, you’re leaning forward and taking his hand in yours.

“I’m not going to write about that. That was a personal thing between us, and I honestly don’t want to relive that moment longer than I have already. I’m going to write about the time my cousin stole my DS.” You laughed, and Mark visibly relaxed at hearing you weren’t going to write about it. While he had suggested it, that was because he wanted you to feel like you could talk about it if you wanted, but the truth is he hated reliving those three months too. He remembers what terrible state he was in without you, and he doesn’t like to think about it.

You knew he was dwelling on it, so you stood up slightly from the table and leaned down to kiss Mark - who saw what you were doing and met you half way. You both gave each other a few more pecks before you whispered, “I forgive you, always and forever. And I love you.”