#and this boy makes his instant coffee with water from the hot tap

[thekitschdiet]

my take on the literary masterpiece, the chic diet

Firstly, I am no one. It’s part of my charm. My fifteen minutes of fame was years ago, when I had an instagram niche meme page. I didn’t even take any brand deals! And my posts averaged six thousand likes! Anyhow. I am hardly literate and well hydrated and carry a small sephora-CVS-hybrid worth in my mini tote bag. Here is my guide on how to live like me, the intermediate kitsch-rat, aspiring influencer. But like, in an apathetic, somewhat dissonant, ironic way. I like saying I live by dogmatic principles. But a lot of it, um, is just eating disorder rituals. But that’s not really important. You’re as hot as you say you are, and as much an authority on what you write so long as you say it with, you know, conviction. It’s kind of venerable how fucking delusional I am, actually. Giving any sort of advice like I’m anywhere close to the ritzy ideal of the amphetamine-areyouami label-american. New York, ideally. West Village, preferably. But I guess the kind of guide I can write is better suited to someone living in a suburb, in a house with the twelve-paned windows. I always thought those were so chic. SO quaint, in a somewhat luxe way. Like, Connecticut vibes. My parents used to drive me up there as a child to buy books and ice cream. Nowadays I’d opt for a matcha latte with novelty ice cubes, but I guess at the time it was pretty sweet. 

Because I popped a Vyvanse at like, 10pm, this next little bit could go one of two ways. I will write the most articulate, brilliant piece of literature of my life. Magnum opus, if there was a skinnier word for it. Or, I will get wrapped up doing something like folding all my last-season knits (which is part of my look, okay! I don’t have a job!) and fixating on a paragraph on how a girl’s collarbones are almost as identifying as a fingerprint, or a signature. I’m not a graphologist, but if you write your A’s with the little tail on top (like on a computer), you’re probably a snake. Nothing personal, just an observation. Also, I do have a biology final to study for. Not that I’m super anal, or even particularly committed to academia, but even in my precariously manicured (read that as separate terms; I did a good job on my nail polish, okay? But I happen to also be teetering on the brink of an epiphany or a collapse. Hence the use of the word precarious.) state, I know it’s important enough I can let one of my countless side-quests sit idle for a couple more days. 

The first section seems only natural to be about hydration. And the whole idea of drinking things, really. There was a section in The Chic Diet about Adderall dry-mouth, which deeply resonated with me. Once I bit off a chunk of a Nivea Strawberry Shine (my favorite lip balm, more on that later) and swished it around my mouth. Didn’t help. Really, really didn’t. Anyway, I suppose that even if it served no purpose for combatting my prevacatingly ingenious cottonmouth solution, I was able to milk a sentence or two out of the experience. “Do it for the Vine”, all grown up! And wearing bananapapaya resin hoops too. Side note, that Etsy shop is a parasocial enemy of mine. It stems from jealousy, which sucks, but hating from inside a club I’m adjacent to is much healthier than being a hateful individual towards people I would, you know, interact with. Daily. Or something. I stopped going to therapy because I felt stupid about going and I don’t live in the right kind of town to warrant vacuous $300 hours. Bitching about my well-adjusted parents and how desperately I wished my anxiety would just “go away” was plainly gross, and a waste. Like, pretty sure almost every problem I have could be solved by a couple painful conversations taking place during a hurricane. Such a shame it doesn’t rain much here. Anyhow, I digress. 

Staying hydrated. It is essential to my character, my persona, if you will; to never be without either an elegant metal bottle (I’m loyal to the smooth enamelled S’well ones, printed to look like marble or a semi holographic solid) or a little 16oz tumbler with a metal straw. Hydroflasks were some of the worst things to happen to society. I want to preface this claim with the fact that I wanted one in the same way a teenage girl wants a new iPhone so she can keep up appearances with her dermatologist-dad friends who still have the XR, by the way. But I ended up spending the money on like, a minidress at Brandy Melville before it fled my city. Or maybe a Fresh Sugar tinted lipbalm. For the better, even though the dress has a busted zipper now and the lipbalm tube has inevitably gotten dinged and dented by the other contents of my mini-totebag. Unlike a car, though, a couple scuffs on your laptop or your luxury lipbalm tube looks kind of cool. Like, you’re not someone who values the pristine, unused quality of an item that was ambiguously intended to be used versus displayed on Instagram.  Now, I’m wondering why this paragraph about hydration is so fucking impossible to stay on track for. I literally drink several litres of water a day, and more tea on top of that. And sometimes an almond milk latte if I can budget it in. Not that I’m so anorexic I can’t afford a 45cal latte. They’re just not that important to me. Anyhow. Drinking lukewarm (on the cool side) water is better than ice-cold. Partially because I just get it out of the tap of my ensuite and I can’t be bothered to wait for it to run cold enough every time, and it just seems wasteful. Plus, there is something so.. skinny about drinking water at an “obscure” temperature. Trust me, I want to know why my thought process is like this too. My favorite tea is blueberry tea foraged in a side aisle at my local supermarket. I love a good commercial, high-end steep or fruit infusion as much as the next girl. Maybe more. My pantry is filled with tins labelled with things like “emerald jade organic” and “magic potion”, which is really just currants and butterfly pea flowers. But there is a necessary glamor about drinking dirt-cheap tea on the daily. Seriously, a box of 25 sachets is like, $3. At a higher point with my, um, Adderall problem, I spent like several times that on pills. I didn’t really need to include that, and could have linked the price point to the cost of a drugstore lipbalm, but I wrote it in. And I’m married to it, stubbornly, as all amateur writers should be when they wittle in a somewhat indecorous little joke. This tea is sooo good because it has a strong fruit-reminiscent taste (not as sweet as a fresh blueberry, but who wants that anyway?), it’s zero-calorie, it’s the most GORGEOUS color ever. The latte, the third drink in my little trifecta, is nothing special. But necessary. The trick is to use a milk frother to whip up sugar free syrup with instant coffee and a little bit of hot water in a glass. It’ll make the most luscious foam.. Top it off with almond milk. My dad is a coffee purist, owning both an upstairs keurig AND a downstairs one (among other more analogue methods, but I can’t name-drop, so what’s the point?), so he hates this drink. Now, calling oneself a plebian is so unglamorous and teetering on self-deprecating territory, dangerously close to insecurity. But I can use it here because I am at least posh enough to have a different pair of earrings for every outfit I could possibly come up with, and I only wear Patagonia if I am in a situation where I just have to wear fleece. Like I was saying. It’s such a simple drink, certainly not a delicacy, and… I had a joke about the word plebian but I keep getting up to refill my water and I fear I have forgotten about it. 

Next section; the importance of a good tinted balm

In the intro I alluded to how a girl’s collarbones function essentially as an identifier, the way a signature or fingerprint does. This is a lie, or at least an exaggeration. But one’s ultimate tinted lipbalm is  actually extremely indicative about who you are, as a person, as a member of society, even… 

If you are loyal to Dior Lipglow, I have a couple questions. One; did you shoplift one tube, once, and refill it with cheaper stuff afterwards? I did that. I consider it one of my better-kept secrets, but now you know. Might as well explain the catalyst for my parent’s first separation now, and the horrifying experience that was meeting my dad’s Manhattan sugar baby (?) at the age of thirteen, wearing an overalls dress from, like, Topshop or something else equally embarrassing. .. Kidding. I digress. It’s such a fancy lipbalm, and good too! It smells like thin mints! But I could just never justify cell phone monthly installation payment money on something I will inevitably talk off. I do own three, but two I stole (before I lost the nerve, somewhat unfortunately) and one, a boy(not)friend bought for me. This is not something I feel any remorse about, because his house was easily four thousand square feet and his sisters had a dedicated all-glass room for their shared peloton. Oil money. Ugh!

My personal favorite lip balm, and I have tried a frightening amount, has got to be the Nivea Fruit Shine collection. The frosted one is shit-ugly. Hideous. But the strawberry one is the love of my life. It’s such a pleasant red, looking healthy and rejuvenated and really completes any look. Only downside is it will always, hopefully not always, remind me of Charles. Kissing Charles, specifically. And him asking me what lipbalm it was, because he knew I was somewhat frivolous and definitive and would have a very long answer. But for whatever reason, I simply stated it was from “out of town”. Not really sure why I said that, but it plagues me (minorly) to this day. Of all the things to make up.. .. The peach one is a perfectly demure spring classic shade. Cherry exists too, but the only tube I have ever had the fortune of owning was purchased in Costa Rica and lost somewhere on the way home. Honestly tragic, it was the juiciest shade. Blackberry is perfect too, but I have to layer it with either peach or untinted lipbalm to avoid what I imagine TooPoor would choose if she believed in tinted lipbalm. I don’t mean this hatefully, I think she’s a queen, but super dark, smudgy makeup suits the eyes better in my opinion. Or something. Or something.

Afraid to bore the reader, I have to move on now. Maybe at a later date I will release an addendum on my ultimate lipbalm buying guide. But also, that is so deeply personal (and everyone needs the excuse of “hunting for the perfect staple shade!!”), so it is really not my place to have any authority on something so intimate and subjective. Etcetera. 

Moving on; Decorating your room

Here is a section I lifted out of my memoir document. It fits, because as enigmatic as I hope I am, I am also quite unchanging.

 I just pushed three hangers and two tiny strappy tops with the tags still on, off my bed. Most nights, all, these days, actually; I spend in my large but cluttered bedroom. I have a little ensuite with a jetted tub I’ve never used because I just never get around to it. There’s a plush grey rug, spanning the expanse of the room (covering an ugly cherry wood that doesn’t match the rest of the house; no clue why. I never asked, and the previous owners were eager to sell so they could finally ditch this town and retire in Montreal for the bagels, or Hawaii for the monk seals. Point is, I’ll never know) with loose beads and loose pills and little shards of glass from plier-crushed beads. I vacuum every day. The whole room tells you exactly the kind of person I am; the clutter I possess, the encapsulation of the projects I start, start, start and the hours I don’t sleep for and the clothes I tried on (these to sell, these to cut up with kitchen scissors; thrifted lululemon and aritzia and heaps of knits and plaid fabric..) I would not say the room is a mess. Lived in, maybe. Chopsticks and mugs and gum wrappers. Single dangle earrings. I just finished the last of my Creme Brulee eos lipbalm; disguised as a relic of 2015, I was gifted it Christmas of ‘20. I think my next waxy conquest will be a tinted Burt’s one I palmed a while back, before I lost the nerve. Peering around the room you will see shopping bags strewn about the mouth of my walk-in closet. Every surface has something shiny or colorful stacked up on it. Cluttered, busy, but intentional. Except for the walls, which are bare. Bare and gray and miles-tall when I lie flat on my back, high out of my mind, willing things to change but knowing I’m responsible for a first step I will always be too scared for. Bare, pristine, no gumtack. Empty, Like they’re waiting. I wait around a lot. It makes sense. That was an awful lot of words about my stupid blank walls when truly it does not bother me that much; I really just don’t get around to it. I have other things on the ground to tend to, like post-email nausea, addressing envelopes, marrying wire and bead.  Writing a document I care about because I am determined and I am alive, alive, alive, goddammit. 

Excerpt over. The memoir is coming out when I get famous, or something earth shattering happens. Like I become the world’s least remarkable entrepreneur, and I get retweeted by Colorpop. I don’t want to be the next Elizabeth Wurtzel. I read two of her memoirs one restless night, absorbing it to make up for the nutrients I didn’t that day (you can laugh. I think that is pretty clever), heart breaking a little bit. She writes about her struggles so intrinsically, you either get it, or you don’t. Anyway. She had the books and the fame from it, and she wrote more memoirs than I think a single person should. That is admirable. Aspirational, even. But I do not want to be like her. Where was I? Oh. Yes. Decorating/adorning/filling your room. Your room should serve as the kind of place to watch a movie (if you believe in film. I don’t) and put on ridiculous glittery eye makeup, or smoke an ~artistic cigarette~ or stay up all night on the phone, which is different from staying up all night simply on your phone. Chatting with someone you are tepidly in love with is much more exciting. Not chic as the whole affair is so juvenile, but fun regardless. It’s somewhere to keep your worldly possessions, too. I know I have a lot! Also, it is kind of thrilling to hide things in your room in little crevices only you know about. Now, unfortunately, everyone reading this will know too. But, like, I trust you not to really.. do anything about it. I keep my extra juul pods in the sliding box my apple pencil came in. That box is almost more useful than the pencil itself. I’m somewhat morally opposed to the iPad. Whole culture is so embarrassing! I have a tea tin with an ounce of golden teacher shrums in it. This is tossed in my closet among tins filled with other things, like lace trim and buttons. Which makes it actually a pretty terrible hiding spot, I see now… Anyhow. Keeping benign little secrets like that is so fun. You can tell I don’t have siblings. I sort of wish I did, but it is easier to believe there is something aristocratic about being an only child. Not sure if older-sister me would be egalitarian enough to share things. But that’s prophesying, which is kind of a waste of time. I live in the now, in a room positively cluttered with meaningless things that mean the world to me, chewing on my lip because my mouth is just so dry and 5gum is just not an after-8 indulgence. To live truly kitschly, you have to have somewhat hideous decor. Now, do not confuse dissonant, or incoherent, with what I mean by “hideous decor”. The kitsch room has as many surfaces to look at as possible, while also shying away from too many shelving units. Then you risk your room looking like a storage unit or something. When my mom renovated (re: paid someone to do it) our New York house so we could sell it, all our stuff was stacked up in a Cubesmart self storage. It was sort of horrifying, seeing my childhood home reduced to plastic storage tubs piled what felt like thirty feet high. Anyway. It’s just not an  inviting way to store things; I imagine it makes your room look like your stuff is all trapped in gelatin. The more fussy, tiny things you have out in the open, the better. Nail polish. Earring trees. Bowls full of rings and lighters and water color pans perched on your windowsill. A rack with the tackiest assortment of knits and bucket hats and baguette bags. And so forth.. Quickly surveying someone’s room is so telling. Bonus points if all your books are spine-in, except for your favorite ones, because you don’t want people to get the wrong idea. (that you read). 

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [22]

Chapter 21 - Chapter 22 - Chapter 22.5 OR Chapter 23 [Finale]

➜ Words: 4k

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

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

There’s quite a few things that you hate.   You like to say you’re a somewhat well-mannered individual who wouldn’t use such a strong word, such as hate, to describe objects, people, and things in general. But there’s a number of things that just absolutely grind your gears. One of such examples are small spoons used to eat ice-cream or crème brûlée where you can never get a satisfying mouthful. And another is—   “Fuck this yeast. Seriously.”   “Hey, what did yeast ever do to you?” Jungkook laughs, finding your rage all the more amusing.   “It won’t foam up.” You tap the measuring cup with a long sigh. Sure, the mixture is bubbling, but it’s nowhere near as good as you want it to be. “It’s been five minutes too.”   “Did you put in sugar to feed it?”   You scoff. “Who do you take me for?”   You hate making bread, hate making laminated dough, hate anything that has to yeast. It’s just horrible to work with and you don’t understand how anyone can like bread in the first place. No one can eat bread on its own. It’s bland as hell. It’s boring.   But aside from your personal vendetta, it just didn’t make sense — you and Jungkook have the same dry active yeast but when he proofs it, it’s perfect. You wonder if these tiny organisms hate you.   “I hate yeast and bread and everything to do with it.”   “Quit whining.” While Jungkook brushes past you, he taps your bottom. “Less complaining, more working.”   “Easy for you to say.”   Jungkook continues the recipe. He whisks together three tablespoons sugar, a tablespoon of salt, and three cups flour. In the meanwhile, you stand there, tapping your glass and wondering if you have to re-do the entire process.   But then another thought comes into mind.    And you slyly switch yours with Jungkook’s.   “Whatever, we’ll see what happens.” You clear your throat, discreetly shifting past him to grab the salt.   “Who knows, it might end up fermenting properly,” he says and a noncommittal sound is made at the back of your throat.    Quickly, you make your dry mixture and pour the yeast in with some oil. It forms into a soft dough, bouncy to the touch, and just the right texture. At the same time, Jungkook returns to grab the yeast and immediately frowns.   “What the fuck is wrong with my yeast.”   He brings it up to eye level, frowning. You shrug. “Yeast is finicky. Was your water too hot when you poured it in? Might’ve killed it.”   “But it was fine befor—” Jungkook’s voice halts. His eyes dim. He redirects his gaze towards you and deadpans, “You switched it, didn’t you?”   “What?” You laugh. “No, I didn’t.”   It’s frightening how he figured it out in an instant. You ponder just how much Jungkook can see right through you. “You took it, didn’t you?!” Your boyfriend playfully throws his arm around your neck and pins you under his armpit in a choke hold. You giggle, grabbing onto his forearm.   “I didn’t!” “You’re still trying to lie to me now, brat? I expected better from you!” He laughs and you squeal.   “Jungkook!”   Finally, he lets go of you, but not before huffing out in frustration. You’re unable to recover when he ruffles your hair roughly, disheveling your entire head and sighing again. “Now I have to re-do mine.”   You pout, watching him grab the container of dry active yeast. “I have to make sure my bread rises.”   He smiles softly. “So now you admit stealing from me?”    You dust off the flour from your hands and approach slowly. When the opportunity is right, you grab Jungkook’s arm and loll your head to one side, fluttering your lashes. “You wouldn’t be upset with your wonderful girlfriend, right, Kookie?”   “Don’t try to act cute with me.”   You lean against him. “I’m not. I just love you.”   Jungkook scoffs, but a tiny smile still lifts on his features. The corner of his mouth is timidly quirked and you know you’ve won.   The dough is kneaded until it’s elastic. Then the bowl is covered with a damp cloth and put in a warm place where it rises for an hour and a half. Afterwards, you punch the dough down on a lightly floured counter, shape it, and bake it in greased loaf pans.   For hating everything yeast, you must admit that the smell of fresh bread filling the kitchen is mouthwatering.   “It rose!” You peek through the oven in its last minutes, observing the way the crust is turning golden brown. “It looks so good.”   Jungkook looks over your shoulder. “Not bad. We’re going to have to do it again though. Or at least you do.”   “What?” The oven closes and you whirl around. “Why?”   “You can’t use my yeast during our exams.” Your boyfriend’s expression is impassive and you open your mouth to retort, but end up closing it. There’s no way you can argue against that.   “Ugh!” Your feet stamp childishly. “But I hate it!”   He smirks and brushes past you. “Should’ve done it right in the first place.”   “Shut up, Jeon.”   The scent of bread baking in the oven only serves to mock you now.   Jungkook tears his teeth into his bread, having lightly buttered it before eating. It’s still steaming hot and looks soft inside. You’re jealous, but also thankful when he stays around and watches you try a second batch all on your own without stealing any of his yeast.   “Too much salt or sugar could slow down the yeast,” Jungkook says. “If the water is too hot, you’ll kill it. If it’s too cold, it won’t activate.”   You sigh. “Why is it so difficult?”   “It isn’t. Just keep trying. The best upcoming pâtisserie chef isn’t going to give up on something as simple as bread, right?” Your boyfriend smiles when he sees you can’t even feign a pout, that your mouth twitches at the compliment.   Motivation flares through you. “That’s right.”   You check water twice, ensuring that it’s the perfect amount of warmness and after you add the godforsaken yeast, you measure out sugar carefully. There’s little agitation before you set up a stool to watch it move.    You pray these microbes will do your efforts justice, that they’ll release their carbon dioxide and ethanol, that they’ll bubble and ferment and make your dough rise later on.   “Are you going to sit there and watch it?”   “Shush,” you hiss at Jungkook as if the yeast could be scared to death.   He smiles, plops a kiss at the top of your head and walks away to clean up his pans and bowls. In the meantime, you wait for five minutes, and then another two just to make sure. By then, it’s bubbling.   “Is this good?” You bring it to Jungkook, not sure anymore.   He peers inside the bowl. “Looks okay to me.”   “Then I did it!” You throw yourself at him for a big hug and the yeast mixture nearly sloshes above the rim of the bowl onto the ground. “We can go now, right?”   Jungkook snorts. “You still need to make the bread, sweetheart.”   You pout. It’s such a pain. But it’s worth it when dough rises, the bread bakes perfectly in the oven, and Jungkook claps for you. When all is said and done, you feel lucky that Jungkook’s here for you, a personal cheerleader of sorts, always rooting you on.   You didn’t know bread could taste so sweet.

“Jungkook.”   “Hmm?”   He’s nodding off, head rested in his palm, elbow on the counter, slumped on the stool. He’s trying hard to keep his eyes open, but he’s been dozing, hair flopping around as he tries to keep himself awake. It’s painful to watch him.   “Go to bed.”   “’t’s okay.” Jungkook straightens his spine and stretches above his head with a yawn. “I’ll wait for you.”   “I’m not going to be done my cakes for a while. Just go back and sleep. Aren’t you tired?”   “Only a little.” He slides off his stool anyway, oddly obedient when he can’t be bothered to put up a fight.   Still, Jungkook comes over and you instantly know what he wants. He leans down, propping his chin on your shoulder, and you hug him as he folds over you. His body is nearly covering your entire frame like a blanket, but it’s warm and comfortable. “I wanted to wait for you,” he mumbles sleepily into your shoulder.   “You’ll see me tomorrow, you big baby.”   He makes a disgruntled noise, eyes shut, squeezing you before letting go.   You smile at him. “Here.” And you help Jungkook undo his white apron. He turns around so you can undo the strings and once it’s free from his body, you haphazardly toss the apron on the counter.   You press your hands against his cheeks so his mouth puckers and you place a brief kiss to his lips. “Okay, now go back and sleep.”   “Okay.” Jungkook relents and retreats away, barely dragging his legs along. A soft smile finds its way on your face, but right when the door of the kitchen closes, your nose scrunches.   There’s a smokey smell in the air.   Immediately, you whirl around to where you’re working and a gasp rips from your lungs.   Jungkook’s apron that you tossed, the one he once told you was precious and lucky to him, is caught on fire. The cloth is curling right on the stove, burnt off, red flames engulfing it.   After a delayed second, you finally lurch forward and grab the edge of it to dump it in the sink. The smoke rises as you turn on the tap and you watch, completely stunned and speechless.   “Shit. Shit!”   //   You’re at a loss of what to do.   You’ve stuffed the dirty thing in your bag, went home and tried to recover it. But the white apron has a huge gaping hole right at the center and there’s nothing to be undone. You tried to read the tag too, to find the brand, to find where it was manufactured, but it’s been worn and faded.   So you consult help. “Jimin, do you know where Jungkook’s apron is from? The one he usually wears.”   “No idea,” the boy says and you’re flooded with complete disappointment. “Didn’t his grandpa give him that thing before he passed away? I think it’s why Jungkook started baking in the first place.”   Blood drains from your face. You feel worse than you did before.   Jimin notices the way your expression crumples, how you’re on the verge of tears and his eyes widen. “Are you okay?! What’s wrong?”   “Don’t tell Jungkook….but...I…..I accidentally burnt his apron.”   There’s a quiet pause. “Oh shit.”   “What do I do, Jimin?” Guilt and remorse eats you whole, chewing and spitting you out to leave you nude and mortified. “I just took it off of him and threw it on the counter. I didn’t know it would land by the stove!”   “You can’t read the tag?” When you shake your head, the boy sighs and his voice softens in sympathy you don’t want. “I’m sure Jungkook won’t be upset with you, Y/N. It was an accident.”   But you can’t come clean with him.   You can’t bear seeing Jungkook’s disappointed face. The inevitable expression that’ll arrive if you tell him you destroyed a precious belonging. If you tell him you ruined his late grandpa’s last gift. If you tell him you wrecked what started him on this journey.   “I can’t say I’ve ever seen something like this before.” Aeri holds it up, studying the pathetic piece of cloth in the light and ignoring the giant hole in the center. She’s the next person you turn to and perhaps your last one.   Yoongi would just laugh in your face and call you an idiot. Taehyung can’t keep a secret for his life. And Hoseok has more than enough on his plate than to deal with your antics. Jimin and Aeri are the ones who are understanding and kind enough to actually help you in your dumb crisis.    “Have you tried searching online?”   “I found one similar on amazon but it’s not the same. The pockets are placed differently. He’ll know.”   “Doesn’t Jungkook have the standard one from school?”   “It’s...not the same.” You exhale in defeat and fall back onto her bed. You cover your face with your hands to shield away the sunlight that comes through the windows. The nice, autumn weather felt like it was mocking you. “What should I do? What if Jungkook breaks up with me over it? I wouldn’t be surprised if he did.”   The girl laughs. “He wouldn’t. Jungkook’s not that kind of person. I’m sure if you just told him, everything will be okay, Y/N.”   That’s what everyone reassures, and in the back of your mind, you know he can’t be upset with you for that long. But Jungkook trusted you with a personal belonging of his — something so special and you burnt it to a crisp.   You feel guilty. There’s no amount of apologies that can bring the apron back to how it was. You’ve ruined it like how you ruin everything else in your life.   //   “Hey, have you seen my apron?”   Jungkook’s digging into his belongings a few days later, having searched his locker and is now looking into his drawers and into his closet. You swallow hard, knowing that this was imminent.    “N-nope.”   “Weird. I swear I had it here….”   You glance at your backpack. There’s a new apron that you bought, had it shipped to you in a day’s time. You picked the nicest gift bag to put it in too, but you haven’t had the courage to confront him about it.   You wonder what Jungkook would do if he decided to end the relationship over this. Maybe he’ll cite that he’s done with your shit, that you’re irresponsible and too clingy. That you’re too emotional, how he can’t trust you with anything, and perhaps he'll say he needs space.   You’ll survive — you know that much. You’ve been through enough in your life to know you’ll make it out, but surviving is not the same thing as living.    Jungkook’s become such a big part of your life — your boyfriend, partner in crime, best friend — you don’t know if you’ll ever be ready to be without him.    You love him, more than you’ve ever loved anyone else before.   “What’s the matter?” Jungkook’s suddenly squeezing your face together, the cheesiest grin painted across his own visage. “I’ve been calling you for the past five minutes. Are you thinking about someone else when you’re with your boyfriend?”   You blink at him, eyes becoming glossy. Jungkook’s confusion takes over when you don’t make any snarky comebacks, when he realizes you’re not in the mood to joke around.   He slowly lowers his grip and sits down on the edge of his bead, concern taking hold. “Is everything okay?”   Your breath staggers out from your mouth. “Don’t be mad.”   His brows furrow deep. “What’s wrong?”   You open your mouth, but realize that you can’t say it. So you lean down and grab the gift bag from your backpack. You hand it to him and he takes it in his bewilderment, peeking inside.   You tear your eyes away. You can’t bear to see his face. “I’m sorry. Really. I am, Jungkook. The….the other day when I took off your apron, I threw it on the counter without looking and it caught on fire. I was trying to look for another one, but I don’t know where it’s from and I know it’s special to you, and I’m so sorry.”   There’s silence.    Then the noise of his chuckling.   You lift your head and you’re instantaneously engulfed into Jungkook’s arms, hugged by him. “I love it, thank you.”   You’re stunned — and it takes a moment for you to snap back to reality. “You’re not mad at me?”   “No.” Jungkook scoffs lightly and pulls away with a grin. “I was wondering why you’ve been so quiet the entire day. I was more worried than anything. You didn’t get burnt, did you?”   “No.”   “Good. Then that’s all that matters.”   He’s humming happily, unfolding the new apron and pushing out the folded wrinkles. Then Jungkook stands up while holding it out on his body, checking how it looks in the mirror.   You can’t comprehend how he can be so forgiving. “Wasn’t the other one from your grandpa? You started baking because of him, right?”   “Kind of. He cooked a lot and told me I should find something I love to do and make it my job. It was a bit of a whim.” The boy turns around, doe eyes twinkling. “But that old man gave me a whole box of stuff, not just the apron. And honestly, it was kind of getting old and worn, so I’m glad I have a new one now — plus it’s from my amazing girlfriend, so how can I not love it?”   It takes three seconds.   Three seconds and then you burst out crying. You’re not sure exactly why and it causes Jungkook to be alarmed. He tries to comfort you, but he’s obviously uncomfortable as he pats your back and caresses your hair awkwardly. It’s only when you’ve calmed down a bit where he wipes your cheeks with his thumbs and asks if it was something he said.   When you tell him you’re not quite sure, the next question he asks is if you’re on your period — and you almost slap him.   The pair of you don’t talk about your meltdown again, but in the middle of the night while you’re still awake, you’re finally able to pinpoint your emotion.   It wasn’t that you were afraid of Jungkook being angry or breaking up with you — you were afraid of disappointing him, of breaking his heart, of hurting him.    You know anyone else in your life would’ve been let down. But not Jungkook. And for that, you feel relieved, reassured, comforted. You feel fortunate that he loves you, and most of all, you realize just how much you cherish the boy named Jeon Jungkook.

In the middle of your bread and viennoiserie class, while your floured hands are folding laminated dough, Taehyung looks up from the counter with a sudden question.   “What kind of wedding cake do you guys want?”   “The hell did that come from,” Yoongi grunts beside him, his beloved silence now broken.   “Well I was just thinking salami and prosciutto would be so delicious with bread, because I love myself some deli meats and there’s this super cute girl at the deli I go to, but I’m pretty sure she has a boyfriend. Anyway, I started to remember the cakes they had on display at the bakery section and there was a funfetti one with a cartoon rabbit on it that looked a lot like Jungkook.”   “What?”   Taehyung keeps rambling, literally thinking out loud, “Then I realized he and Y/N are probably gonna get married someday, and I wondered if I was going to be a groomsman at the wedding and what kind of cake they were going to have, so yeah. What kind of cake do you guys want?”   Yoongi's expression is disconcerting as if he’s wondering how Taehyung lives peacefully with a brain like his. “Do you ever get tired being yourself?”   “Hey, you asked.” The tall brunette is unbothered by the insult and turns to the two of you for an answer. “What kind of wedding cake are you guys going to have?”   Your mind is reeling.   Getting married to Jungkook seems so far away from now. The pair of you are barely in your twenties, and you’re not particularly inclined to get hitched so young. But in terms of cake — your own specialty — you’ve had one in mind since the beginning of time.   “Well obviously, we’re going to have chocolate.” — “Fresh strawberries and cream.”   You and Jungkook both answer at the same time over top each other.   Your heads turn, eyes meeting, stares connected.   “Of course we’re going to have chocolate.”   “Aren’t you sick of it? I make chocolate for you all the time,” Jungkook argues. “And you eat some every other day.”   “I could never get sick of chocolate.” You frown. “Since when did you like fresh strawberries and cream?”   “Always.” He shrugs. “And when we worked at Kim's cakes, that flavour always tasted the best to me. It’s fresh, but still sweet. I think everyone would like it. It’s versatile.”   “Yeah, but what matters is that we like it.”   “I like it.”   “Yeah, but I think chocolate is just more fitting for us.”   Yoongi sighs, looking over at Taehyung. “Here they go again.”   “What?” You direct your attention to the sleepy man, a sharp bite to your words. “What do you mean ‘here we go again’?”   Taehyung’s eyes widen and he begins to slide away from the counter, not wanting to be in the face of your wrath. Yoongi, on the other hand, has never been intimidated by you in the least bit. “The both of you are always fighting.”   You glance at your boyfriend. “No, we’re not.”   “First it was about cookie dough and then pineapple on pizza, soufflés and now this.” Yoongi spits straight up facts without sugar coating it and you’re left stumped. You didn’t realize how it looked to outsiders. You know there’s never animosity between you and Jungkook — it’s just debates, but you suppose the arguments happen frequently.   You stare at Jungkook and he smiles tenderly at you.   The man turns back towards his friends.   “I like getting Y/N riled up. Isn’t it fun to watch her?”   “Excuse me?” you scoff, not expecting that kind of response.   “Ugh.” But Taehyung takes his words in a completely different meaning and his face scrunches. “So this is a kink you guys get off on? Making other people suffer by listening to your bickering?”   Jungkook doesn’t say anything and merely wiggles his brows. It makes your face hot and Yoongi appears disgusted as well next to his baking partner.   Your boyfriend looks off at you. “How about chocolate strawberry cake then? We can have chocolate cake layers and alternate between cream and ganache in between. We can frost it in strawberry buttercream with strawberry roses as decoration — and of course, a pile of chocolate strawberries as the topper.”   You grin at him, leaning in to press a kiss on his lips. “Brilliant. As usual.”   “Ugh.” Taehyung groans even louder. “Nevermind. Go back to hating each other. I can’t handle you two being sappy and gross.”   “Well get used to it,” you tell him proudly while Jungkook drapes an arm over your shoulder, approving your message.   It’s only when the teacher brushes past all four of you and reminds all of you to continue kneading your dough do you remember that you’re in class with everyone eavesdropping in.   But you don’t mind shamelessly flaunting your relationship with Jungkook — you’re proud of him and of loving him.   //   It’s later that night when you’re snuggling while watching some show playing on his laptop, that you verbalize some doubts that Taehyung’s snuck into your mind. “Do you think we argue too much?”   “What?” Jungkook turns his head. “Not really. I like arguing with you — well, not in any way that makes any of us upset or anything, but I like our heated debates. Why? Don’t you?”   “I do,” you hum. “I was worried you didn’t. I don’t want to make it seem like I’m always picking fights with you.”   He laughs and the sound is melodic to your ears. Jungkook’s grip on you tightens, making sure he’s holding you close. “You are. But I don’t mind. We don’t need to agree on everything to be together.”   You lean into his warmth and a content sigh escapes your lips.    Of all the things that you disagree with Jungkook on, you think he would agree that the both of you cherish being with one another. Future wedding or not, you want to savour every moment and all the antics you have together. That’s all that really matters.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #btsboulangerie #jungkook x reader #jungkook baking AU #jungkook baking!AU #sugar and coffee #ONE MORE CHAPTER GUYSSSS

[jaskierswolf]

Hello my dearest soulmate, I am back to request some more bard on bard action and this time I would like them in the shower, please and thank you :)

So this is 2.2k of Jaskilion smut. That's basically it.

CW: Shower sex, Top Dandelion, Bottom Jaskier, multiple orgasms, minor mention of homophobia

Technically this is Chapter 4 of this story, but each chapter also works well on their own (because they are all very smutty with very little plot)

____________

“This is all your fault,” Dandelion whined, looking down at his beer stained trousers and pulling at a limp lock of hair. His usual curls fell flat, sticking to his face, and he resembled a drowned rat. To Jaskier, he looked utterly adorable, all pouting and wide eyes, but Jaskier knew that Dandelion’s vanity didn’t feel the same.

The gig at the bar had been pretty successful. Their music had completely charmed the audience and they’d even sold a few CDs at the end. People cheered and sang along with the choruses, and Jaskier even noticed a few regulars that always seemed to watch their gigs no matter which bar they played at. It seemed like they were finally going to get out of the coffee shop, hopefully. Was it too soon to start hoping?

Nah. Bollocks to that. Jaskier was a musician. He refused to sit idly by in a shitty coffee shop, watching his dreams go down the drain. Even if that meant getting beer poured over them by homophobic pricks. All he’d done was kiss Dandelion’s cheek at the end of the performance. His roommate had just looked so beautiful, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling from the adrenaline. It wasn’t romantic, and it certainly wasn’t sexual, just a kiss between friends, but some arse hat decided to take offence to it. The arseholes had been lucky that Geralt hadn’t been around. Jaskier’s rather beefy boyfriend didn’t take kindly to people being mean to the two musicians. Yes, Jaskier was the more feral of the three of them, but Geralt and Yennefer were more intimidating.

It was glorious.

“How-how is this my fault?!” Jaskier snapped, waving a hand in Dandelion’s face, “I’m just as much the victim here. This shirt is dry clean only!”

“My hair!” Dandelion cried.

That only made Jaskier roll his eyes, he adored Dandelion, but god the man was precious about his hair. He spent more time in the bathroom than anyone else Jaskier had ever met, the amount of times Jaskier had had to shower with cold water because Dandelion had spent about six years in the bathroom… he’d lost count.

“Come on, let’s just shower and order a pizza?” Jaskier suggested, “and then get absolutely wasted off the cheapest bottle of vodka that I can find.

“You’re disgusting.”

Jaskier shrugged. “It’s cheaper than that Fiorano shit you buy.”

The blond stammered and put both hands on his hips, the overall effect ruined by his sodden clothes and ratty hair. “That is not shit! Julian.”

“Oooh full name,” Jaskier teased.

“That is the finest red wine that this world has to offer, it’s flavours are beyond compare, the scent absolutely divine! There is hardly a… hmmph!”

Jaskier pressed his lips to Dandelion’s, swiping his tongue along the blond’s lower lip, holding Dandelion’s face in his hands. It didn’t take long for Dandelion to melt into the kiss, long fingers digging into Jaskier’s hips, and when they pulled apart they were both a little breathless. “That’s not fair,” Dandelion muttered.

“Hmm, maybe not, darling, but you loved it.”

Dandelion snorted and rolled his eyes, but no one could miss the pretty pink blush on his cheeks. “I hate you.”

Jaskier smirked and booped Dandelion on the nose. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes.”

“That’s why you had your lips around my cock last night?”

“Arrogant swine,” Dandelion hissed.

“Shower,” Jaskier shot back, resisting the urge to roll his eyes again, “You’ll feel better once you’re clean, dear heart.”

Dandelion narrowed his pretty cornflower blue eyes at Jaskier, his tongue flicking about between his kiss swollen lips. “I’m going first.”

Agreeing would have been the kindest thing to do, but Jaskier really really didn’t fancy a cold shower. He was already cold and sticky from the beer, and an ice cold shower would just be the final nail in the coffin… then a delicious thought came to mind. He smirked and tilted his head, his hand resting on his hip. “Together?”

Dandelion grinned widely. “Oh ho ho! Oh darling, you have the best ideas.”

So Jaskier pulled his roommate into another kiss, as they stumbled towards the bathroom, the heat quickly building between them as clothes were left in a trail through their flat. The room seemed to spin, lost in the growing haze of arousal, and despite his discomfort, all Jaskier could think about was getting his roommate out of his clothes. The bastard always wore so many fucking layers, with complicated tiny little buttons that drove Jaskier mad. His performance outfits were especially complicated, unlike Jaskier who favoured a rather more slutty look, open shirts, tight jeans, high heels if he could get away with them.

They scrambled for the tap and Dandelion pressed Jaskier against the cold tiled wall whilst they waited for the water to heat up, nipping and biting at his neck. Jaskier moaned, his eyes fluttering shut as Dandelion’s hand snaked down to push Jaskier’s boxers down. The elastic dragged over his cock and his erection sprung free. The blond’s long fingers were wrapped around his length in an instant.

“Oh-oh fuck,” Jaskier panted.

“Are you going to beg for my cock, little buttercup?” Dandelion purred, trailing a finger along Jaskier’s cheekbone and under his chin.

“Hmm… please, Lion…”

Dandelion smirked, his lips ghosting over Jaskier’s, teasing him. “Please what?”

“F-Fuck me… you bastard!” he spat. It was embarrassing how easily Dandelion was able to turn Jaskier into a mess. With just a few kisses and the barest of touches to his cock, Jaskier was begging his roommate to fuck him, but it had been so long since he’d been fucked by Dandelion. Their last few trysts, the blond had been the one desperate for Jaskier’s cock, but today he clearly had other plans, and well…

Jaskier had never been able to deny him anything.

He had that effect on people. Even Geralt wasn’t immune. Jaskier groaned as the memories filled his mind, Dandelion tied up in Geralt’s bed, a tie stuffed in his mouth, looking like absolute sin whilst Geralt fucked him into the mattress.

“So rude,” Dandelion chided.

The room was filling up with steam now, the shower easily hot enough, but Jaskier felt like he might die if he were moved from the cold tiles of the wall. He needed Dandelion in him, a burning need that made everything else seem small and insignificant. Dandelion didn’t agree, with one final kiss he pulled back, pushing down his own boxers and hopping into the bathtub. With a glance over his shoulder, he winked.

“Coming?”

Jaskier groaned, unable to stop himself from stroking his cock as he watched the water roll down Dandelion’s soft and silky skin. He enjoyed the sight for a few moments until Dandelion started to massage the shampoo into his hair, letting out a long obscene moan that was clearly meant to entice Jaskier into bath.

“Bloody siren,” Jaskier muttered under his breath, hopping as he rushed to pull off his boxers. The fabric got caught in his feet and he almost fell into the bath. Dandelion only laughed as he caught Jaskier.

“Come on then darling, let’s get cleaned up and we’ll get you ready for my cock.”

Jaskier’s cock twitched at the musician’s words, another wave of arousal washing over him as he stepped into the shower, hot water almost burning his skin, but true to his word, Dandelion was determined to actually shower first. His fingers expertly massaged Jaskier’s scalp as he worked in the shampoo, the expensive kind that Dandelion preferred, floral and sweet smelling. Jaskier was putty in his friend’s hand, mewling happily with every touch on his skin. After the shampoo, Dandelion handed Jaskier the conditioner bottle and then it was Jaskier’s turn to pamper his roommate, applying the conditioner through the long locks of hair just as he’d seen Dandelion always do. His roommate hummed happily, and the whole thing was really rather intimate, far more intimate than Dandelion usually allowed, bordering on something almost romantic.

But Jaskier knew better.

For Dandelion, this was simply a need for physical touch and affection, and Jaskier was more than happy to comply.

Once they were done with their hair, Dandelion pulled Jaskier into a kiss. The water was still hot against Jaskier’s skin, running down his cheeks and catching in his eyelashes. The kiss was a mess of tongues, teeth and water, Dandelion’s hands running through Jaskier’s chest hair until they wrapped around his neck. Jaskier groaned and caught Dandelion’s bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled away from the kiss.

“Lube.”

“Impatient,” Dandelion shot back.

“Lion please,” he whined, “put those talented fingers of yours to good use and fuck me, please.”

Dandelion smirked. “Just my fingers?”

“Fingers, tongue, cock… just please,” Jaskier begged, his hands pulling at Dandelion hair, making his friend moan so deliciously.

“Fuck, Jask,” Dandelion gasped, blindly reaching for the bottle of lube that they had tucked away on the shelf with the shampoo bottles. Jaskier was pushed back against the wall by his friend, and finally he felt Dandelion’s long fingers teasing at his hole.

He whimpered and closed his eyes, his own hand wrapping around his cock. The water continued to pour over them as Dandelion began to stretch him open, one single finger pumping in and out, slow, torturing. Each thrust brushed against Jaskier’s prostate, making him whine and buck against Dandelion’s hand. The touch was teasing and feather light, and it really shouldn’t have felt so good but soon Jaskier was gripping the base of his cock to stop himself from coming.

One finger.

The fucking bastard.

“Oh fuck, Dandelion, more, more!”

“Shhh, Jask, I’ve got you,” Dandelion purred, “be a good boy and cum for me.”

And Jaskier did. He keened, grinding down on Dandelion’s hand as he fell over the edge, but his friend didn’t even pause. Instead he grabbed the lube bottle, slicking up his fingers again and pushing a second finger inside to join the first. Jaskier moaned at the stretch, feeling oversensitive and yet so desperate for everything that Dandelion could give him.

“Ah fuck!”

Dandelion chuckled, kissing and biting at his neck in the way he knew made Jaskier a babbling mess. This time Dandelion didn’t tease as much, a third finger soon joined the others, making Jaskier whimper as he was stretched open. He was a panting, writhing wreck under his friends fingers, almost sobbing at the oversensitivity, but if anyone could coax multiple orgasms out of him then it was Dandelion, and his friend seemed determined to try. Jaskier gasped as his cock began to fill out once more, his pleasure slowly starting to build for a second time.

The water was almost lukewarm, but Dandelion didn’t seem to be taking any notice, too focussed on taking Jaskier apart under the jet. There was another click of the lube bottle and Jaskier whimpered.

Finally.

“Lion, god, fuck!” he stammered as he felt the blunt tip of Dandelion’s cock press against his hole, gasping as his friend pushed inside, slowly so that Jaskier could feel every inch. Jaskier groaned as he looked down to watch Dandelion fuck into him, the musician’s cock not even fully seated before he pulled out again, making Jaskier whine pathetically. Before he could really complain, Dandelion’s hips thrust forward, pushing completely inside Jaskier in one swift movement.

“Oh fuck!” Jaskier cried, his feet almost losing grip at the bath mat.

Dandelion swore, biting into Jaskier’s shoulder as he thrust into him. It didn’t matter that the water had gone cold, Jaskier felt like he was on fire, already tumbling towards a second orgasm. He could do nothing except hold onto his friend, whining and swearing with every snap of Dandelion’s hips. The water was washing away his tears but he couldn’t help the sobs that wracked through him. It was too much and not enough. His skin was burning, every touch tingling.

“I-I can’t…” he gasped, “too much… Lion…”

“You can, sweetheart,” Dandelion panted, capturing Jaskier’s lips in a sloppy kiss as he reached down to stroke Jaskier’s cock. Pleasure shot through Jaskier like a tidal wave and sparks flew in front of his vision. His head rolled back and he cried out wordlessly, a complete wreck. He came again, writhing under Dandelion, losing all sense of the world. Dandelion moaned into the kiss as Jaskier felt Dandelion’s cum fill him up. It was a miracle that they stayed standing. Jaskier felt completely boneless, falling into his friend’s embrace, eyes fluttering shut.

Dandelion chuckled breathlessly and hoisted Jaskier up so his legs were wrapped around the blond’s waist. Not pulling out, Dandelion maneuvered them from the shower. Jaskier just whined into Dandelion’s neck, not having the energy to do anything else. When Dandelion finally pulled out Jaskier let out a choked sob, suddenly feeling unbearably empty, but his friend seemed to have predicted it, before Jaskier could protest he felt a plug being pushed inside his used hole.

“There,” Dandelion purred, pressing a kiss to Jaskier’s neck. “All full and happy, you like that don’t you?”

“Uh huh…”

“Good,” Dandelion cooed. “Now, darling, let’s go get dried off and get some rest, hmm?”

Jaskier didn’t respond, already falling asleep in his friend’s arms.

#the witcher #jaskilion #jaskier x dandelion #jaskier/dandelion

[jordanstrophe]

This One is Mine, Part 5

Previous           Masterlist               next is a work in progress<3

CW: Whump, Pet whump, Whipping, Reference to abuse, Low self esteem, Anxiety, then F L U F F 

“Don’t look at him, look at me”

Crack

“Sit up straight”

Crack

“On your knees!”

Crack

“LOOK AT ME!”

“STOP IT! STOP IT PLEASE!” Michael screamed, he jolted upwards. He couldn’t breath, he knew he was being hurt, but he couldn’t feel anything. Nothing around was familiar. Where was he? What’s happening? What did he do wrong?

“Michael?” a voice asked. It was quiet and concerned, but soft. He looked around the room, until he saw a man sitting across the coffee table from him. He was sitting at a chair, legs crossed with a laptop, his dark hair highlighted from the rising sunlight through the window. He set the laptop on the table, and slowly got up. 

Everything started to come back to him. He wasn’t at the factory, he was somewhere else. With someone else. Someone had draped a large heavy blanket over him. It was the softest thing he had ever laid a finger on. 

“Are you okay?” Charles asked, concerned. 

Then it donned on him. He had fallen asleep without permission, and it was morning now. He crumbled to the floor at the man’s feet, lowering his head.

“I’m s-sorry! I’m s-s-o sorry! I didn’t meant t-to! Please! Don’t!” He cried, tears streaming down his face, shielding his head with his arms. His dream had become a reality. He really had messed, and now the punishment was going to be real this time.

“Michael, it’s okay. Everything is fine.” Charles sunk down on the floor in front of him. He lifted him by his shoulders to sit him up straight, then placed a hand on his cheek, thumbing away a tear.  “You’re okay. I’m glad you were able to get some sleep. You were exhausted last night, and since you got caught up on some rest, we can do something I really wanted to do with you today.” He gave him a happy smile. 

Oh no. This is where it starts. The whips, knives, cages, shackles...

“We’re going clothes shopping!” He announced, clapping his hands together.

“..W-what?” He tilted his head to one side.

“A good friend of mine runs a lovely clothing shop not far from here. I’ve asked her to clear it out today, so it will be just us! We can get you some clothes that will fit you.” He pulled the folded clothes off the table, and handed it to him. “Here, these are Miles, they'll still be a bit big for you, but it’s something until we get you some of your own.” He smiled at him, gently ruffling his hair. 

Michael looked up at him, with a nervous expression.

“Mm... Master?” He asked, he nervously clutched the clothes to his chest.

Charles hesitated, before gently taking his upper arm, and guiding him back onto the couch. He sat on the other side of the from him, and turned to face him.

“No, sweetheart. I don’t own you, not like that.” He tried to give him a comforting smile, trying to hide any sadness that could leak through to his expression.

“B-but! W-wait! But you, you-” “I know! I know.” Charles interrupted him, placing a hand up to try and cease him from a panicked stutter.

“Like I said, it’s not like that. I promised you I would take care of you, and that’s what I’m going to do. Just consider me... Your guardian. A caretaker. There are no slaves, or masters in this house, okay?” This time, he was able to give him a genuine smile.  Michael was so used to being treated as property, or a slave who only had eyes for his master. He hardly could grasp what he meant. 

“You can call me Charles if you like, or Sir if that’s more comfortable for now. Everyone calls me that around here anyway.”

“Now my dear, why don’t you hop in a nice warm shower. After you get dressed, we’ll get some breakfast and head out, alright?” He smiled and ruffled his hair.

“Y-yes sir!” He called, as Charles took his hand and led him up the stairs.

The hallways really were endless, with countless doors and elegant lights lighting the path. He stopped him at a door, leading into a dark room. He flicked the light on, and revealed a beautifully decorated bathroom. Golden light lit up the ceiling, a soft green circular mat laid in the center floor, tall green potted bamboo plants decorated the corners, with pots hanging from the ceiling containing colorful flowers and vines that hung down.

“Fun fact! This is the only room that has synthetic plants.” Charles chuckled. “Warm water, okay? Take as much time as you like, and use anything you like. Will you be alright on your own?” He asked.   “Yes sir, thank you very much.” He bowed his head politely in response, as Charles closed the door for him. The room fell silent in an instant. He clutched the clothes close to his chest, and took a deep shaky breath, before setting them down at the sink. He slid the coat off his shoulders. He glanced at himself in the large mirror. He looked like a walking ghost. Thin, bruised, broken. He cringed and looked away, before turning the shower on. 

Charles paced around the kitchen, arms crossed behind him. “It’s been thirty minutes.” Charles muttered.  “Pff, give the kid some space, he’s been through a lot.” Liam said. He was older, and had medium brown hair tied back, and wore an apron. He cut through various fruit and vegetables with practiced speed. “I know, I know... But maybe I should just go check on him. What if he doesn’t know how to work the shower?” He stuttered. Liam only gave him a eyebrow raise, with a “seriously?” expression.  

“Give him some breathing room. He has a lot to go through before he gets comfortable! One of those things is going to be a healthy dose of both comfort and space.” Liam smiled.  “He’s right you know.” Mia chipped in. She was shamelessly sitting on top of the counter, busily tapping away on her phone. “I’ve gotten you out of the next four meetings. That gives you three days of a clear schedule to get him properly settled in before you have to start taking trips.” She muttered.  “What would I do without you guys?” Charles took a heavy sigh of relief, leaning against the table.  “Crumble? Have everything fallen apart? Disorganized schedule? Chaos and mayhem?” Mia giggled, swaying her feet back and forth.  “Accurate.” He admitted. 

“I know bringing the kid home with no warning threw something's off, thank you for being so open for him.” Charles sighed.  “Of course! From what I heard from Miles, it seems like you did the best thing. And besides, I get to keep myself busy with more meals, and show it off to him!” Liam chuckled, pouring steaming hot food out of a pan.

“S-sir?” A tiny voice could be heard from the doorway. All heads turned as Michael shyly walked in. He was dressed in a light blue button-down shirt with a light oversized jacket. His face was more noticeable, and his hair was smooth and fluffy, but the ends were every so slightly damp. 

“Well someone cleans up nice.” Mia complimented. He jolted with posture, not entirely sure how to respond. “I’ll leave you boys to it then! I have some phone calls to make.” She smiled, before hopping off the counter and heading off. 

“She’s right, you look fresh. Michael, this is Liam, he’s the household chef, the best chef I’ve ever had, in fact.” Charles introduced. “Darn right I better be.” Liam laughed.

“It seems I have the honor of serving you this morning, mister Michael.” Liam gave him a wide grin, as Michael couldn’t help but to give him a smile back. He placed all the fresh hot food onto two plates, and slid them onto a nearby table for them. “Give it a try! Tell me what you think!” He smiled proudly.  Charles pulled a chair out for him, and encouraged him to sit. The plate was filled with rich nutritious food, including steamed vegetables, grilled chicken, on the side were a fresh biscuit and fruit slices. 

“I know it’s an odd plate, but I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I made you a bit of everything.” Liam shrugged. “The.. The whole thing?” Michael asked, as Charles nodded.  “It’s for me?” He asked again, a hint of excitement in his voice. “The whole thing.” Charles smiled. He happily dug in, trying tiny nibbles of everything on the plate, before taking proper bites. Charles was hardly interested in his own plate, he was too swoon by the satisfaction in Michaels face as he enjoyed a proper meal.

“So how is it?” Liam asked, as he cleaned up the kitchen area. Michael stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes went blank for a second, as he nervously glanced at Charles, who studied his face, trying to figure out what could possibly be wrong. “Sweetheart you can talk to anyone at any time, you don’t need permission.” Charles said. He really hoped he had guessed correctly. 

His eyes immediately light up. He took a deep breath, before excitedly blurting out “It’s really good and I really like it! Thank you!” He cried out to Liam, who gave him a bright smile. Charles took a breath of relief. He guessed correctly.

“All aboard!” Miles announced. He opened up the car door for Michael, as Charles stood behind him to help him up into the car. He had significantly calmed down, he had color in his face, and didn’t look petrified all the time now. He was nervous about the car ride, sure, but Charles assured him it would be a quick trip, and the woman who owned the shop was lovely.  After about ten minutes about driving, they were now outside a gorgeously decorated shop.  

“Welcome!” A woman called, who had been waiting by the door. She had her hair pulled back into a bun, with a sleek trench coat. She was older, in mid forties.  

“Nimrah, it’s been awhile!” Charles called. He steered Michael into the stop as she held the door. “Doing alright now that you’ve been more out and about.” She smirked at him. Her eyes were a deep green, that looked like it could pierce the souls of the weary. 

“Thank you again for doing this, I apologize for any hassle this may have caused.” Charles said.   “No, no problems at all. It’s an excuse to see you again. Plus! I wanted to meet him.” She motioned towards Michael, who had already slunk behind Charles.  “Well he’s a bit shy. We’re just giving him some space. But today, he gets clothes.” Charles smiled.

 He turned around and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Alright sweetheart. Go pick out whatever you want, go on now.” He shooed. Michael nodded nervously, as he looked around the store. It looked expensive. Everything was neatly on display, mirrors taking up any spare space on the wall, and the shop was spotless and decorated with beautiful hanging lights draping from the ceiling. 

Charles heard something like a “pspsps” noise behind him. 

 “Really Nimrah?” He hung his head, side eyeing her. ‘‘Get over here, we need to talk.” She said blatantly. She nodded towards the front desk, and opened up a door for him, leading into a back office. He took one last look to make sure Michael was okay, who was nervously playing with a scarf. He followed her as she draped herself in a stool, and pulled out her phone.

“So how’s the shop doing?” He asked.  “It’s a great side job, really throws off suspicion, now enough stalling, what are you doing messing with Malcolm? We have a system, remember?” She asked. Charles let out a pained sigh, as he leaned at the table next to her.

“Things got... Complicated.” He muttered.

“Whaaat? Noooo.” She said exaggeratedly, in a mocking tone. 

“We had five of the founders all on good terms. We were stable. With a majority of the founders all buddy buddy, we never worried about voting when it came to big decisions about the business.” She crossed her arms. “Ugh, I know.” Charles groaned.

“Now, there’s currently four founders on good terms, because someone decided to go mess with one, and take his favorite toy away.” She growled.

“That toy was a young man who was about to get beat to death. Are you saying I should have just watched that happen?” Charles asked coldly. 

“Honey, I run the assassinations business. What do you think I think?” She blinked at him.  Charles didn’t have a response. 

“To be honest, I actually think you did the right thing...” She admitted.  “What!?” He exclaimed. Definitely not the response he was expecting from Nimrah Loralie of all people.

“Oh come on dear, don’t give me that. I always hated Malcolm. He’s a big pain, and only thinks for himself, not the other companies. Take that deal he made with me for instance last month, that was a total rip off! A spit in my company's face!” She angrily explained. 

“Mmm.. About that. I kind of used that as a bit of blackmail so I could keep Michael...” He nervously muttered. 

“WHAT? Hahaha! Oh goodness, yes. Hang it over his head! He deserves it!” She hissed. Charles let out a small sigh of relief. “This is why you’re my favorite.” She giggled. “Thanks for being understanding.” He smiled.  “I’m not a total monster, but, problem still exist. The only thing the uh, snowflake founders have to do, is turn one of our guys on their side, all the voting will then be in their favor.” She said. “I suggest we turn the Barron, dense as a rock, but he’s been swaying these last few weeks.” Charles nodded in agreement. “Maybe we can have dinner sometime? Talk it over, come up with a strategy and knock it out together? Just like the good ol’ days.” She smirked.  Charles' phone pinged, as he pulled it out of his pocket.

“Oh speak of the devil...” He muttered. She raised an eyebrow at him.  “Would you look at who else would also like dinner?” He asked, showing her his phone.

Malcolm: “Dinner, your place, tomorrow at 6.” 

“Tsk, tell him you're busy.” She grumbled.  “I did, yesterday when we left his factory.” He explained.

Charles: Can’t, I’m busy, remember?

Malcolm: No you’re not, I know you cleaned your schedule.

“How did he know that?!” He complained.

Malcolm: I called tomorrow's meeting, they said you canceled. Stop spending all your time with that slave and fit me in tomorrow. How’s my baby doing by the way? Does he miss me?

“Busted.” Nimrah couldn’t help but laugh. “I can’t believe he called my meeting! He’s obsessed!” Charles growled. “Well he’s resourceful, you can give him that.” She shrugged. “I’m going to check on Michael.” Charles sighed. He threw his phone in his pocket and stormed out.

Michael was waiting for him, clutching a single pair of clothes. The cheapest he could find.

“What’s this?” Charles asked. “It’s.. It’s the clothes I picked out, sir.” He nervously said. “Is it too much? I.. I can put some back!” He dug through the pile in his arms. “No, where’s the rest of it? You’re going to have more than one change of clothes young man. Come here.” He took the pile from his arms and set it at the counter. He wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him over to a shelf stacked with folded clothes. “Come one now, pick out as much as you want. What about this right here, this looks snazzy and comfortable. What about those shoes up there? Do you like those?” He asked. “But! I.. Uh.” He nervously searched for a price tag. “Na ah! No looking at the price tags!” He snatched it from him before he could take a look, and tucked it underneath the shirt.  “Do you like it?” He asked.  “I.. Yes, I do, but-No buts!” Charles butted in. He grabbed the shirt off the shelf and tossed it into the pile on the counter. “Lets go try on these coats over here.” He smiled, pulling him into another direction. Michael was practically giggling at this point, with a shy blush covering his cheeks. 

After some time, Nimrah came out, and chuckled at the entire wardrobe piled on the counter. “You’re really getting invested in this little one, aren’t you?” She smiled.  “Yep, he’s mine after all. I’m going to give him everything he needs.” Charles said. “Is that so? Well it’s all on the house.” She said, neatly folding the clothes, and placing them in bags.  “Nimrah please, as kind as that is, it’s not necessary.” Charles said.  “I insist! Besides, it’s not for you, it's for him.” She smiled at Michael, who clutched Charles' arm nervously. He looked at her with wide, confused eyes. 

“I remember you, you know. I was there once, at a party he threw. You were a very brave young man.” She smiled. Michael’s face went pale, as he stared at the floor. Charles looked concerned, looking from one face to the other in silence.  

“Thank you very much, Miss.” Michael muttered, lowering his head. 

“Well! Off you two go, Michael, I hope you enjoy all of these, and Charles, keep my deal in mind will you? And take care of this little one.” She smiled, scooting several filled bags towards him. “Of course, thank you.” He was too concerned with whatever she meant by that to muster a smile. Miles entered the store to help carry things out, and thankfully broke some tension. 

He wanted to ask, but whatever she was referring to, happened some time ago. He didn’t want to press, but the curiosity lingered. Regardless, he was going to enjoy today. He was going to spoil this kid all day if he had too. And he wasn’t going to think about that dinner. That dinner with Malcolm, that was going to have to happen eventually.

He wasn’t going to think about it.

Tag list: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @green-eyed-whumpster       

Thank you for reading!

#Whump #Whumpee #Caretaker #Creepy caretaker #Hurt comfort #rescued whumpee #Michael being a good boi #Charles being an absolute dad #Whump writing #caretaking #I really wanted Charles to take him out for coffee #But he's technically still being held against his will #so I couldn't quite fit that into the story... yet #Nimrah going pspsps kept cracking me up trying to type it #I feel like I should change the name of the title #It was suppose to only be the title for the first page #but I just kept using it lol

[henryspearl]

15 from the prompt list, if you'd like 💕

“Stop pretending you’re okay, cause I know you’re not.”

They had returned home from the Vic. The house was filled with an eerie silence as no one was home. It turned out to be a pretty chaotic evening at their local. It was one of their many date nights and they were happy being with each other and just being them for the night given the stress of organising the wedding, where the date would slowly creep its way around the corner. They were excited to spend the rest of their lives together, excited at the thought of both of them becoming Mr Mitchell but their stomachs could not help but fill with anticipation and bundles of nerves, wanting their day to be perfect.

But tonight, it looked like all that dread and nerves came bursting at the seams, especially for Callum. From the moment that Jonno made a surprised unannounced reappearance. Callum’s stomach dropped and he felt physically sick at seeing the man in front of him. When Ben clocked him, he murmured reassuring words that things would be okay and even stroked his knee in reassurance. However, it was like Jonno could feel the words floating away from Ben’s lips and could sense the intimate touch as Jonno turned his head and his eyes widened as he saw them, all cosy in the booth but was looking in his direction, intently, fear etched on Callum’s face as Callum swallowed a lump in his throat.

Jonno was his usual homophobic self, shooting cold comments their way that shot sharp knives straight through Callum’s heart. Callum knew what his father was like, that’s why he drew a thick line across his father’s name, wanting nothing more to do with him. But it didn’t stop him from hurting. Even though he felt safer than ever with Ben, Jonno still set him on edge. And when Jonno found out about the engagement, it took his comments to a whole new level.

Ben knuckles went white and he was sure that his blunt nails would cause marks on the palms of his hands due the hard pressure of how those nails dug in, in anger, wanting so bad to knock the man who made his fiancé’s life a misery to the floor just like his dad did, but he held back, for Callum.

They did not want another confrontation, they did not want another display and give the punters a show. So Callum told Jonno once again to stay out of his life as he is so much happier without him in it before deliberately (and because he wanted to) took hold of Ben’s hand in front of Jonno, entwining their fingers together and left the Vic, never looking back. Just looking towards the future with Ben.

“I’ll get the kettle on,” Callum breathes, an instant decision as he rushes to pick up the kettle and puts it under the cold tap.

Ben looks at Callum with concern reflecting in his eyes as he watches Callum fill up the kettle, hearing the loud rush of water coming out of the tap and pouring into the kettle, and watching Callum as he intently looks down at the water rushing into the kettle.

Ben lets out a sigh as Callum turns off the tap and makes his way to the other side of the kitchen to place the kettle on the stand and flicks the switch.

“Let me do that, Cal,” Ben insists, striding over to join him at the other side of the kitchen. “Go and sit in the living room and pick a film for us to watch.”

“No it’s fine,” Callum sniffs as he gets two mugs out of the cupboard.

“Callum,” Ben sighs, almost pleading, wanting him to just stop for a moment. “Please.”

“Do you want tea or coffee?” Callum asks, pretending that he hadn’t heard Ben talk. His fingers are fiddling with the tea bag and coffee jar.

“Callum,” Ben implores, trying to break him out of this trance that he has put himself in.

“Or I can make hot chocolate,” Callum suggests lightly as he reaches up to the cupboard where the tub of hot chocolate powder is stored.

“Callum,” Ben says louder, wanting Callum to stop and listening, needing him to.

Callum freezes and slowly turns to Ben, swallowing a lump in his throat. He is greeted to Ben resting a comforting hand on his cheek.

“Stop pretending you’re okay, cause I know you’re not,” Ben says softly, rubbing his thumb soothingly against his cheek. “Talk to me.”

Callum lets out a shaky breath, feeling his eyes start to glass over with frustrated wet tears making his sight cloudy. Callum closes his eyes trying to compose himself and he takes a deep breath, leaning into Ben’s warm and safe touch. When he opens his eyes, Ben is looking at him with nothing but patience, understanding and love filling his eyes.

“It still gets to me you know,” he admits sheepishly. “Even though I’m happy that I ever thought I could be and I know I don’t want him in my life but his comments still get to me and he can still manage to make me feel crap.” He whispers the last word, like he is embarrassed to speak the words into existence because it makes him look weak. He already feels weak. Like the small boy cowering away in his room or behind the sofa again.

“I know your dad isn’t understanding at the best of times,” he continues. “But at least he’s accepting, of you, of us. My dad can’t even do that.” And it genuinely breaks his heart.

“C’mere,” Ben whispers softly pulling Callum into a tight loving embrace. Callum immediately tucks his face into Ben’s neck, inhaling the scent of the familiar aftershave that he knows so well, the feeling of being able to nestle into his home.

Ben rubbed Callum’s back soothingly as he heard the frustrated whimpers vibrating in his neck. He peppers kisses on his neck and shoulder comfortingly, “it’s alright babe, you’ve got me. You will always have me, you hear me?”

He could feel Callum nod into his neck. “Yeah,” Callum chokes as he pulls away, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “I’m sorry. Just seeing him today just got to me, brought all those feelings back.”

“Hey, you don’t have to apologise to me,” Ben states reassuringly. “I get it. How about you go and sit in there, we’ll watch whatever you want and I’ll make us hot chocolate yeah?”

Callum nods with a small smile. People say that Ben doesn’t deserve him but really at times, Callum feels he doesn’t deserve Ben.

“Just don’t get lumps in the hot chocolate!” Callum requests as pads his way into the living room.

They find themselves curled up together in the living room, hot chocolate long drunken, and a rom com playing quietly in the background. Callum’s head is resting on Ben’s lap, their hands curled together on Callum’s chest. Ben watches Callum focus on the film playing in front of him.

“You okay?” Ben asks quietly.

Callum looks at their entwined hands rubbing his thumb along the back of Ben’s hand. “Yeah I’m good, you’re all that I need.” He looks up sheepishly. Ben leans down and gathers Callum’s lips with his in a sweet loving kiss.

As long as they had each other, they would always be okay.

#thank you💞 #again google docs has spaced this the fuck out #ben x callum #eastenders #ballum #ballum fic

[rafecameron]

Between You and I (2)

Summary: Even with their rocky past reader could never resist Topper, but what happens when she unexpectedly bumps into him and her life is already mapped out with the perfect man?

Pairing: Topper Thornton x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drinking

Word count: 4.2K

A/N: So this is a part two but honestly I think both this and part one can be read as stand alones. I’ve wanted to write a part two for this for ages and finally got round to doing it so here we go!

PART 1

*GIF is mine*

You loved being in a big city more than anything. Having grown up in a small town now being somewhere that played host to more than a couple thousand people was exciting. You loved the hustle and bustle and the fact that everyone had somewhere to be (and seemed to be running late). It felt like everything had a purpose, no one just piddled about like back home. You also loved that you could go somewhere and just disappear into the crowd, unseen and unknown by anyone.

At least that’s what you thought anyway. Sitting in the restaurant across from your friends you couldn’t seem to drag your eyes off of the man at the bar. You could only see his back and part of his face whenever he moved but you were adamant you recognised him. The cogs turned in your head as you looked over his body, your bottom lip between your teeth racking your brain as to where you knew this man from. It wasn’t until he turned his head fully that the light bulb popped up above your head, practically exploding as all the memories flooded back at once. Of all the people you could bump into it was Topper Thornton who was sat at the bar in the middle of New York. You hadn’t seen him since you were teenagers, the memories had been stuffed into a box at the back of your mind only coming out around special occasions when you would think of home.

But now he was here, sat mere meters away from you and you could feel the butterflies from when you were a teen returning in full force. You knew you should turn around, pretend you hadn’t seen him, he hadn’t noticed you after all so it would be easy to slip past him and go on with your life. Your life which you were happy with. You had a good job, a dream apartment and an amazing fiancé. You should just turn around and put Topper to the back of your mind again. After everything he had put you though. All the cruel things he’d done and said you should have pretended you never spotted him. But you couldn’t. You’d never been able to resist the boy and you’d never had much self control, so you found yourself excusing yourself from your friends and nervously making your way to the bar. You had the idea of playing it coy, maybe stop at the bar, order a drink, wait for him to notice you. But subtlety had never been a strong point of yours so instead you tapped him on the shoulder. The instant thought that oh my god it’s not actually him and just someone who looks like him entered your mind the moment your fingers touched his shoulder. But then he turned and he smiled wide and your heart almost stopped beating.

“Y/N?” Topper asks but he didn’t need to ask he knew it was you straight the way, “holy shit, it’s been so long!” He quickly jumps up off the stool and pulls you into a hug.

You unfroze as his arms wrapped around you and you returned the hug, he still smelt the same. The scent of his aftershave mixed with his coconut shower gel, the scent that had made you go wild when you were younger. You hadn’t known how much you had missed it until you were smelling it again.

“It’s so good to see you.” You smile as you both pull back from the hug.

“Yeah you too, you live here now?” He asks taking his seat back at the bar and motioning for you to take the stool beside him.

You nod quickly as you sit down, “yeah! For a couple years now. How about you? What brings you here?”

“Work.” Topper states taking a sip of his drink, “I won’t bore you with the details but we’re setting up some new offices here so I’m here for a few months sorting things out. Can I get you a drink?”

“Oh, yes please. A G and T,” you smile, “you must be pretty important in your company if they’re trusting you to set everything up.”

Topper shrugs as he calls a waiter over, “just a director, nothing to write home about.” He grins, he orders your drink, handing his card over to the bartender. “So, how about you? Dream life?”

You play with the ring on your finger, a smile on your lips your eyes never leaving the man beside you, “I guess. I enjoy my job, so that’s more than most people.” You laugh softly.

You thank the bartender when he places your drink in front of you on a little white napkin, he hands the card back to Topper and disappears again.

“How long have you been here?” You ask, moving the black plastic stirrer around in your drink.

“A couple days, this is my first break. I’m staying down the street so this is the only place I’ve seen, thought I’d check it out.” Topper states.

“Oh well, I’m free all afternoon, if you’d like the grand tour.” You grin.

“Yeah?” Topper asks with a smile before nodding, “I’d like that. It’ll be nice to catch up, and I’d like to be able to walk around without getting lost.” He laughs.

So you finished your drinks, learning a little more about each other as you did. Topper was the director at a software company, he played down his roll acting like it wasn’t important but from what he was saying you could tell he was proud of how far he’d come. You told him about your job, about how you’d ended up in New York, gushing about how much you adored the city. You didn’t mention you were engaged but you had seen topper looking at your ring. Guilt was coursing through your body and you couldn’t decide if it was because you hadn’t told him straight off the bat or because you were talking to him in the first place. You told your friends you were leaving to catch up with an old friend, none of them batting an eyelid at you as you grabbed your bag and coat and hurried out onto the chilly city streets.

“So, anything in particular you’d like to see?” You ask, pulling your coat tighter against you to shield you from the winter air.

Topper shakes his head, “anything you think is worth seeing I want to see, tour guide.”

So you showed Topper around all your favourite places. Your go to restaurant of choice, where you went for a drink after work and where you went when you wanted to get so drunk you couldn’t remember your name. You showed him the cafe you got coffee from in the mornings (and hot chocolate in the evenings) and to end the tour you took him to the park across the road from your apartment. You always came here when things got a little too much and you needed time to yourself to think, it was always peaceful and your favourite bench overlooking the small pond was always free. That’s where you sat now, Topper beside you both of you clutching warm paper cups full of coffee in your cold red hands.

“I never imagined New York to be peaceful,” Topper states, his eyes wandering over the still water, “but it’s really nice here.”

“Yeah, I love how busy the city is but sometimes it’s still nice to just get away from it all, y’know?” You sigh, your breath showing as mist in front of you, contrasting with the quickly darkening sky, “I come here when I miss home. I guess being near water is just comforting, no matter how small it is.”

“I get that. Sometimes I miss home too, which surprises even myself,” Topper chuckles, “maybe I should find a little piece of the obx in my new home too.”

“Awh, who’d of thought Topper Thornton would be home sick!” You tease earning a laugh from the boy, “it was really nice seeing you. I didn’t realise how much I would enjoy seeing someone from back home.”

“Yeah it’s nice to see a friendly face.” Topper agrees, “I guess we should probably get going. I have work early and I guess you have a fiance to get home to.” He laughs almost nervously.

Your stomach drops a little but you plaster a smile across your face and nod, “Yeah you’re probably right! But again, it was so nice seeing you. Maybe we can meet for a drink one evening?” You ask hopefully.

Toppers face breaks out into a grin and he nods, “Yeah I’d love that! How about friday, at that place you showed me?”

“Sure, it’s a date.” You pull him into a hug, a momentary surge of confidence has you leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, “I’ll see you Friday.”

And so you turn around, heading towards your apartment and the man you thought was the love of your life, the only problem being that now another man was running through your mind instead. But you scolded yourself for thinking about Topper on your short walk home. You loved David, you were getting married in five months. You convinced yourself that these feelings for Topper that were flooding your body were merely old feelings surfacing due to the sudden reunion. They’d soon disappear again, you were sure they would.

The rest of the week seemed to drag, each day lasting as long as two as you waited for Friday to finally roll around. At work you couldn’t concentrate, detailing every aspect of your outfit for the night in your head. You had to keep reminding yourself that you were not going out with your fiancé, you were meeting an old friend for a drink. You didn’t need to go all out, you had nothing to prove. But you wanted to look nice, you wanted Topper to think you looked nice. So that evening you pulled out your favourite black dress and strappy heels, spent an hour on your make up and made sure there wasn’t a hair on your head out of place. David was out for ‘boys night’ so you didn’t have to worry about him asking why you were so dolled up.

You got to the bar earlier than you were due, ordering a drink straight the way to calm your nerves. You felt like a teenager again, meeting Topper for your first date on his boat. It simultaneously felt like yesterday and a life time ago. You hadn’t felt this giddy in a long time, almost forgetting what the feeling was like. It was almost like you were thirteen again, anxiously waiting to see your crush walking down the school corridors. You felt silly, being so excited to see Topper again. Not only were you engaged to an amazing man, but you were sure Topper had no interest in you anymore. He hardly had any interest in you back when you were teens so you couldn’t imagine he did now.

You were brought out of your thoughts by a hand on your shoulder, you spun around, smiling wide when you saw Topper behind you.

“Starting without me?” Topper laughs taking a seat beside you.

“Got here early,” you shrug with a smile, “I’ll get you a drink.”

“Nah I got it.” Topper smiles.

Topper orders a whiskey, his usual drink since he was younger. Whenever you hooked up at a party his kisses would taste of the drink, you’d hated it back then. You asked Topper how his week had gone and he explained to you the stresses of setting up the offices, apparently everyone was a fucking idiot who couldn’t follow the simplest instructions. He had a lot of complaints about work and you found yourself laughing along with him as he ranted about them, drinking flowing quickly as you fell into comfortable conversation.

“I swear it would be easier if I just did everything myself!” He complained, sleeves rolled up his arms which where resting across the bar, already a little tipsy after three drinks.

“Well you know what they say, if you want something done right.” You shrug, playing with the straw in your glass. You both fall quiet for a moment, listening to the chatter of the bar around you before Topper spoke again.

“Do you ever wish you could go back? Be a teen again, do things differently?” He muses, a wanderlust look crossing his face, “I’d do things differently.”

“What would you do differently?” You ask, tugging your lower lip between your teeth softly.

“I’d of been nicer to you.” He states with a nod, “I was such a dick to you for no reason. I thought everyone owed me something back then. Would you believe me if I told you I was sorry?”

You smile softly and shrug, “of course I’d believe you, we were kids, it’s okay.” You try not to show just how happy you were to hear his statement, instead taking a sip through your straw.

“It’s not okay, I was horrible to you, I should have loved you the way you needed, the way you deserved. Because I did love you, y’know?” He turns to face you now, “I loved you so fucking much I just didn’t know how to show you, I guess it freaked me out.”

Your breath catches in your throat as your face turns a light shade of red, suddenly feeling hot in the extremely crowded bar, “I loved you too.” You replied quietly.

“But I fucked it all up.” He laughs softly shaking his head at himself, “I always used to call Rafe a fuck up. Tell him he couldn’t keep anything good, I didn’t realise I was the exact same.”

You reach out placing a hand lightly against Toppers upper arm, “don’t be so hard on yourself. We all make mistakes when we’re young, I know I made plenty.” You rub his arm through his shirt, “I forgive you for being a dick.” You laugh.

Topper smiles at you, pulling you into a one armed hug, “I missed you.” He whispers, you feel his breath hitting your cheek, it sends a shiver down your spine and you quickly pull away.

“I missed you too.” You admit, “I never realised it until I saw you the other day.”

Considering how long it took for the week to drag by the evening went by all too fast. You stayed seated at the bar until closing, stumbling out onto the street clutching Toppers arm in yours to keep yourself upright.

“Did he really think that?” You giggle out, Topper leaning into you as he walked.

“He did.” Topper laughs, he’d been telling you how Rafe had thought the two of you would get married one day- to put it in Rafes words, once you both stopped being fucking morons. “I kinda wish he was right.” Topper stops walking, swaying slightly due to the alcohol.

You lean back against the wall of the bar, a dopey drunken smile on your lips, “yeah?” You ask, “it would of been nice.”

Topper leans a hand beside you on the wall, his face close to yours. You could smell the whiskey on his breath and you wanted nothing more than to lean in and press your lips to his, taste the liquor on his mouth one more time, but even in your drunken state you knew you couldn’t do that.

“Topper.” You say quietly, you hold a hand against his chest, his face stopping inches from yours, “I can’t. I love David.” You whisper out.

Topper nods, leaning forward he presses a kiss against your cheek just next to your ear, “maybe it’s for the best.”

He pulls away, giving you his signature smile, “I had fun.” He says, acting as if he hadn’t just been seconds away from kissing you, “I’ll walk you home?”

You nod your head, not trusting your words right now. You link your arm back with his and you head off down the street in a comfortable silence, little giggles coming from you both whenever one of you would stumble over your own feet. At your door Topper bid you a quick good night, not meeting your eyes as he stuffed his hands into his coat pockets and turned on his heel. You watched him until he disappeared into the night, leaning against your front door you quickly sobered up enough to form coherent thoughts. Was Topper still in love with you? Surely not, it was just the drink talking. But deep down a little part of you hoped it wasn’t just the drink, all you needed was for Topper to admit it. For him to come to you, sober as anything and tell you he loved you, and you knew you’d fall into his arms once again.

Over the next few weeks you tried your best to distance yourself from Topper. You didn’t want to mess your life up for a man who would be gone soon, but as usual you just couldn’t stay away. He’d asked you to lunch a couple times and you’d eagerly agreed, falling into a routine of meeting him at your favourite restaurant every day for lunch and a chat. Being around Topper was easy. You found you didn’t have to pretend with him. You didn’t have to act prim and proper like you did around your friends here, you could just be you, because he knew you better than anyone. You don’t remember the last time you laughed so hard tears fell down your face or the last time you talked to someone so freely for hours.

So when it finally came to that inevitable time when Topper had to go back home you were devastated. You’d quickly grown used to having him in your life again and even though you promised to keep in touch you knew it wouldn’t be the same.

You threw yourself into your wedding to try and forget about how Topper made you feel. You chose the perfect dress, arranged the flowers, and chose the cake. You had everything planned out perfectly and it helped to distract you for a while. But once everything was done and your friends and fiancé told you to relax before the big day he was back in your mind again. You felt like a traitor. A double traitor. You were getting married to a man with another man on your mind, and you weren’t getting married to the man you should be. You were completely overwhelmed with yourself and as the big day grew closer you became more and more of a nervous wreck.

As you stood in front of the mirror, hair pulled back in a bun, white dress adorning your frame you couldn’t tell if the swirling in your stomach was excitement, nerves, guilt or a mixture of the three. Every day you told yourself this was what you wanted. This is where your life was supposed to go. You were happy. So you plastered a smile onto your face and downed the glass of champagne you were passed. This was it, you were doing it.

It wasn’t until you were stood at the altar that you began to feel sick and dizzy. The man across from you looked nothing like the man you married in your dreams. You thought of Topper. Of how he made you feel the happiest you’d felt in years. How he was the only one who would make you laugh so hard your stomach hurt and how since seeing him again every time you kissed David you imagined it was him. You started to shake your head, dropping David’s hands you stuttered out an apology before lifting your skirt and running from the room. Your mind was running a mile a minute, you didn’t know if anyone had followed you and you didn’t care. You didn’t want whoever was behind you, you wanted Topper.

You didn’t allow yourself time to feel guilty at what you’d done. You knew deep down it was for the best. You needed to be happy and there’s only one way you could be that. You didn’t contact Topper straight the way. You didn’t want to talk to him over the phone. So instead you took a couple days to gather yourself and your thoughts before reaching out to the one person you hoped could help.

“I wondered if I’d be hearing from you.” The voice answered after four rings.

“What?” You question quietly.

“Topper mentioned he’d seen you.” Rafe explains, “wouldn’t shut up about it actually.”

“Topper. That’s why I’m ringing. I’m hoping you can help.” You explain everything to him. You’d never been close to Rafe but you hoped that he had matured over the years and you were happy to find he had.

Rafe gave you Toppers address (after laughing and calling you a crazy bitch - to which you agreed) and that’s how you found yourself on the seven hour drive to Toppers. The drive was too long and too short at the same time. You couldn’t want to see him again, to wrap him in your arms and confess your love. But the other part of you started throwing out all sorts of questions. What if you’d read the whole situation wrong? What if he wasn’t really in love with you and was just being nice? What if you’d just ruined your only chance at happiness? You turned the music up to drown out your thoughts, you couldn’t let your own insecurities convince you into turning around.

After a couple of pit stops you found yourself outside of Toppers house, you checked your text from Rafe five times to make sure you were at the right place and once you were certain you were, you exited the car. Standing at his front door you sucked in a deep breath before lifting your hand to the wooden door and knocking quickly. The man took a while to answer and you began to worry he was out, or you hadn’t checked the text properly and you were actually at the wrong house. But finally you heard the lock click on the other side of the door and it slowly swung open.

Toppers brows furrowed as he took the sight of you in, first completely bewildered to see you, then he smiled wide and pulled you into a quick hug, “what are you doing here?” He asks moving to let you into his house.

“I needed to talk to you.” You say, still slightly in a state of shock at what you were doing.

“Okay, couldn’t have rang?” Topper laughs, “bit of a long drive...wait.” Toppers eyes widen, “weren’t you supposed to be getting-“ he stops as he looks down at your ring less hand, his eyes finding yours once again full of confusion.

“I couldn’t do it.” You whisper out, your voice was shaky.

Topper just nods slowly before he pulls you into his living room, sitting you down on the couch then disappearing. When he returns he has two very full glasses of wine and he hands you one. You take a sip, the sip quickly turning into a gulp and when you place the glass on the table you realise half of it is gone.

“I couldn’t do it.” You say again, your voice steadier now, “it wasn’t right.”

Topper takes a moment to process what you’re saying, not fully being able to wrap his head around the fact that you’re here sat in his living room.

“It wasn’t right, Topper.” You grab his hands, eyes desperately finding his, “I couldn’t marry him while I was thinking of you.”

Toppers eyes search your face for a second before he leans forward, his lips catch yours in an instant and you melt into his touch. You could have cried out of sheer happiness in that moment, all of your worries and doubts drifted away at the feeling of Toppers lips against yours.

“You have no idea how long I’ve dreamt of this.” Topper mumbles against your lips, his hands finding your waist and pulling you into his lap.

You kiss for what feels like forever, not being able to get enough of each other. Slow steady kisses, hard lust filled ones, sloppy and passionate ones, pecks to the lips and all over the face. You were both completely content to just sit and kiss the night away.

“We should talk about this.” Topper mumbles as you press soft kisses to his stubbly jaw.

“I don’t want to talk tonight Topper. We have the rest of our lives to talk, I just want you to hold me.” You sigh against his skin.

And so he does. He holds you in his arms for the whole night, pressing kisses to your head every couple of minutes and you swore no one had ever felt so much like home.

You knew things weren’t going to be easy but you were ready to face whatever challenges life threw at you now you had Topper by your side. You knew you could make it through anything because you were back where you belonged. And this time you didn’t even mind admitting that Rafe had been right all along.

#topper thornton x reader #topper thornton fic #topper thornton imagine #topper thornton #outer banks #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #my writing

[macchiatooru]

ᴬⁿ ᵃˡˡ⁻ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ³ʳᵈ ᵍʸᵐ ˢqᵘᵃᵈ?

With Kenma? And Lev and Hinata? Absolute College AU vibes? Despite my doubts about the productivity, I definitely need this. It’s around 1AM as I type, and I literally have three papers to finish, with one due tomorrow. HAHAHAHAHA. (I wrote this note last night, so it’s not entirely applicable now, but well- I have to submit the second tomorrow and the third the following day... I hope HAHAHA)

Note: If you’re also up at such ungodly hours and want to add to this when you’re stuck with a paper too, or a lesson, or something, go ahead! If you want to modify something, don’t hesitate to say it!

The situation, for example, is that you’re writing a paper, and you don’t know how to continue it anymore. Luckily, you have enough options to kill the time until your brain is working properly again. The apartment―whoever owns it, maybe you guys were sharing or had connecting ones or were neighbors or whatnot―would literally look like, I don’t know, a convention? It’s like there are different stalls with different activities. Take your pick!

Tsukishima’s Corner:

I can imagine that he has this set-up in the far end of the living room where he has a table against the wall and a chair with a blanket on it

And he always has a drink with him, whether it’s a soda or an Iced Americano. (that just gave me Yoongi vibes ahhh my heart)

Of course, he has his headphones on. Not surprising.

He’s pretty calm when he does his schoolwork, and his focus is just wow

So, don’t expect him to pay attention to you that much. Again, not surprising.

If you have an actual question though, I think you can ask him!

He’ll help you out, but be wary of the sass and teasing.

It’s highly possible for him to annoy the shit out of you before you guys solve the problem, btw.

If you have chips with you, he’ll take some without asking permission smh but he’s so idufhsdbkfhda can you really say no?

You can get back at him by repetitively calling him “Tsukki”.

“Cut it out.”

“No can do, Tsu~ Kki!”

Emphasize! the! syllables! because he probably lowkey thinks it’s kinda cute

Unless he doesn’t and he throws the blanket at your face to shut you up

Don’t annoy him when he’s in a bad mood, okay?

He’ll really appreciate it if you give him space on those days

But he’ll also appreciate it so so so much if you’re the one who hands him his usual drink.

Despite being the person who could really rile you up the most

He’s actually nice... in his own way!

Lev and Hinata’s “Quiet” Pile of Pillows:

What am I even saying?

There’s nothing quiet about that part of the living room.

Lev and Hinata like studying in their “own kind of comfort”

And that is with their “study” blankets―they have separate ones for sleeping―on the floor and their pillows on top.

They study with the TV on

A series on Netflix is playing the entire time.

Nobody minds, really, because for some reason, most of you can study with some noise in the background. Those who can’t, however, just listen to music on their own.

They have hot or iced chocolate―depends on their mood―made either by you, Akaashi, or Kuroo.

You never asked Bokuto to do it again. Never again.

One time, he made the mistake of giving the “kids” coffee, and well, was that some night.

Lev and Hinata have common classes, so they work on some of their assignments together.

Expect them to be very excited when they get something right and very frustrated when they can’t understand what they’re doing.

Probably just a spot for you to take a quick break, maybe lie your head down on Lev’s favorite pillow to annoy him.

It’s not because he doesn’t want to share, but because you just took it right out of his lap.

They’ll be really happy kiddos if you join them! Please give these babies the attention they need.

Also, it helps to give them snacks to shut them up.

Bokuto’s Spot on the Couch:

That became his permanent spot after Akaashi sent him there because of that one time that big baby reaaally got on his nerves.

He has a pillow supporting his back as he leans against an armrest, legs stretched out in front of him and laptop on his, well, lap. HAHAHA sorry

He also likes working with the TV on, so it was a suitable place for him.

Bokuto’s drink would either be a can of soda or a protein shake.

Keep your phone on standby.

You have to take a pic of the pouty face he makes when he doesn’t get something.

He’s so cute he can have my heart-

“Akaashiiiii~ Why won’t you help me out?”

Akaashi would remind him that not only was he a year higher, but he also had a different major.

*cue Bo’s emo mode with matching droopy hair fml he’s literally so cute*

He gets distracted easily because he never puts his phone on silent

Probably chats with Konoha idk

Or gets carried away watching game highlights.

He already startled all of you a few times.

“OOOOOOOOOOOH. DAAAAAAAAAAAMN. THAT WAS SO GOOD.”

“Bokuto-san-”

If you choose to go to him, he can’t really help you with the paper you’re writing.

However, he gives THE BESTEST HUGS!

I think a lot of us agree that he’s a walking heater, so getting a hug from that beefy boi? Especially when it’s cold?

H E A V E N

Or that’s just me being biased, but is it really just me?

I love him.

Kuroo’s Kitchen Kounter:

Now, I’m definitely sure I’m being biased because- I mean- JUST-

One of the kitchen counters faces the common living area where everyone is spread out.

Imagine walking from wherever you were previously just staring at your laptop with that constant 132 words plastered on the corner of the screen and you’re well-aware that it has to be 2000 by tomorrow

And seeing business-related major Kuroo, sitting on a stool, immersed in his work, Excel sheets and documents being the only inhabitants of his laptop screen?

I’m literally giving myself away I-

He has glasses on and he’s tapping the end of his pen on his chin and at this point I’m hyperventilating

THE FACE HE MAKES WHEN HE CONCENTRATES

From time to time, he would swivel the stool around, take a sip of the black iced coffee he always brews at night, and eat whatever snack was available (e.g. chips, popcorn, sandwiches, instant noodles, sometimes asks Bokuto to make another protein shake, etc.)

He doesn’t really listen to music and can easily drown out the noise on his own because he concentrates so much.

You can always count on him to entertain you

Because despite the amount of focus he puts into his homework and problem sets, he also wants any excuse to tear his eyes of his screen.

He’s good at papers, so he can help you with that in the best way he can

Also asks if you would like to take a break and grab a snack with him

And can be a flirt if he’s in the mood, but when he’s tired, he has a soft and sleepy smile (except he’s not really sleepy because of the coffee, he’s just not putting that much effort)

Although he will annoy and provoke you while the two of you are on break

He’s the best person to cry to when you’re really stressed out.

I want him.

Akaashi’s Atelier:

He literally owns the dining table, his work neatly spread out.

I can almost imagine him studying architecture

But nah I guess he just really likes practicing how to capture anything and everything he can observe

And by capturing, I really mean that there’s a pile of photos there somewhere.

Afterwards, he draws them, paying attention to every detail.

He finishes schoolwork before any of you do.

His concentration surpasses that of Kuroo’s, no joke.

You can’t disturb him when he’s working on his academic requirements, so come back later when he’s sketching the hours away.

If you want to do your paper beside him though? Go.

His concentration is not only top tier but also contagious.

He’ll share the dining table, but only to you and, occasionally, Kuroo.

Bokuto? Only if he’s super emo.

Akaashi’s really nice!

He’ll initiate a conversation with you if you’re taking a break and he’s just on his sketchbook or experimenting with graphic design or something.

If you want to see a passionate but shy Akaashi, ask him what he’s working on.

I just know his eyes will literally light up.

He might be drinking tea, mint tea?

Water most of the time, but he always smells like mint and fresh laundry ahhh be still, my heart

Go to him if you really want to be productive and not get distracted by anything else because his eyes and the way he’s so into what he’s doing might actually be what distracts you

He is the epitome of grace under pressure, such a beautiful human being ha ha ha I wish

Kenma’s Den:

Well, what did you really expect?

Nah, kidding.

Kenma’s the only one in his room because he’s probably streaming.

His audience is mostly up at night, so yeah.

He definitely has ramen, chips, and soda

Which he’s willing to share with you as long as you don’t mess his game up don’t try I swear

Tbh, it’s actually really comforting to stay in his room especially when you’re really stressed out.

You can rest your eyes and take a quick nap.

He knows that he should wake you up after fifteen minutes, so don’t worry about sleeping through the night without finishing your paper.

He’s so sweet please

It’s so comforting to hear his fingers tapping away, a literal lullaby that gets you every time.

At some point, some people probably caught you slipping under his duvet IT WAS YOUR FIRST LOWKEY SCANDAL HAHAHAHAHA

Which lasted for just an hour because Kenma’s viewers knew him enough to know what his facial expressions meant

He definitely can’t help you with your paper. Such a busy boi.

But if he’s in the lobby that’s what you call it, right? of whatever game he’s playing, he’s willing to listen to your rants.

A quiet listener, but you know that he genuinely cares about you.

Massage his shoulders if you can! He likes that.

───── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☪ .* :☆ﾟ. ─────

background photo by NeONBRAND on unsplash

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #third gym squad #tsukishima kei #lev haiba #hinata shoyo #bokuto koutarou #kuroo tetsurou #akaashi keiji #kozume kenma #elle's random rambles #elle isn't sleeping again #I WANT THEM TO BE REAL

[bxthharmon]

Never Go Home Again, Pt. XII || JJ Maybank x Reader

Words: 3130

Series Warnings: violence / talking about abuse / toxic relationships / talking about nudes sex and sex tapes / drugs / underage drinking

Pt. Warnings: Guns / blood and violence

Series Summary: A new girl, a shoebox of old memories, a past she’s trying to forget coincide with a hotheaded, but selfless, boy.  teenagers getting in way over their heads

Pt. Summary: Chaos catches up, causing trouble for everyone involved

A/N: sorry for the slow updates, but with the event (tysm btw ily) i’ve been busy. i have a few more requests, and i promise im getting to them. anyway! feels weird, only 2 or 3 parts left. tysm for all this support <3

Chapters linked in my masterlist.

“masterlist”

JJ woke up before you. His face felt stiff from the tears he’d shed the night before, and the corners of his eyes were filled with sleep. He rubbed his eyes, phosphenes decorating his mind as he pulled them open. The window was wide open, curtains fluttering in the light breeze and the sun decorating the room with a natural glow. He became aware of the towel thrown over the dresser and the wet clothes hanging in the window sill, the memories of last night returning. He looked down at you.

You were curled up, one of his tops and a pair of his joggers covering your body as you gripped his arm lightly in your sleep. He blinked, admiring the lock of hair falling over your face, the curve of your lashes and the relaxed smile that adorned your sleeping frame. He brushed the hair out of your face and let it fall. He realised that he was in deep. Somewhere across the room, the ping of a phone notification pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up, seeing the bluish light coming from the floor on the other side of the room. He slid his arm from your hold, careful not to wake you as you unconsciously pulled the pillow into your grip instead. He rose from the bed, careful not to let the bed creak as he left you. He padded across the room, picking up the phone from the wooden floorboards.

The phone awoke as he lifted it, a series of fresh messages lining up under the time. 

Tyler: hey

Tyler: ik i fucked up with us, but i cant stop thinking abt seeing u when u visited

Tyler: can we try again?

Tyler: ik u said u were seeing someone and dont wanna fuck it up, but i still love u

Tyler: let me know. I miss u

He almost choked, heart beating in his ears as he looked back to your sleeping frame, rising and falling with oblivious breaths. He looked back at the phone, placing it on the dresser softly. He left the room, clicking the door shut as softly as he could, and making his way to the kitchen. He rinsed a mug and put the kettle on, rummaging through the cupboards for the instant coffee granules. He pulled the silver pot from the shelf, peeling the cap off and tapping it on the side of the mug so the granules tumbled in, the dark brown contrasting the light ceramic. He poured the contents of the boiling kettle in, watching the hot water consume the granules and turn brown. He stirred and sipped, hissing as it burnt his tongue. He never had the patience to wait for it to cool down.

He studied the cupboards again, finding no edible food, not trusting the bread after his previous experience. He sipped the coffee again, allowing himself to look back at the closed bedroom door. He wanted to know what happened when you went back, but knew he wouldn’t like the answer. After last night, he knew Tyler was an asshole, and wanted more than anything to fly to California and punch him in the face, but couldn’t understand the text. Thoughts were flashing through his head, ideas rushing to his head. He wondered if he should ask, or leave it and wait for you to tell him. He knew you had no obligation to him, but he also knew that you two had something going on. Whatever that something was. He sighed. 

He thought about how he felt when he saw you smile, how much he’d spiralled after your argument, how vulnerable he was around you. It hit him suddenly, an epiphany that took all his air away but made him feel alive, made him feel broken and brilliant all in one moment. He loved you.

Down the hall, on the other side of the door, he heard the bed creak. There was a pause, and then he heard the floorboards moan. Another minute, and he heard the ping of your phone notification. There was another pause, then the door opened and you stood in front of him, hair tousled by sleep and eyes fresh. You smiled at him, reaching out and pulling him in, kissing his temple and stepping away to make your own coffee. His heart pulled, not letting him push you away and reaching out as you left his arms, but not wanting it because of those stupid texts. In that moment, he fights his impulse and decides to wait for you to tell him. Would you tell him?

He draws his attention to you, hopping back onto the counter next to you. He watched you, enamored with the way you moved, the way you brush against him, the way you seem so carefree in the moment. He wants to kiss you, but he knows he won’t until he knows what’s going on. 

Faster than he wants to admit, you’ve finished your coffees and Kie and Pope are awake, moving about after leaving their slumber on the pullout couch, and then setting up the pulley for the well. Your mood changes when they’re up. You’re more talkative, brushing over any mention of the night before, helping when you can. You look back at him a couple of times, and each time his heart flutters.

You can feel blisters working on your skin as you help Pope with the winch, the rope burning at your skin in the force of the friction, but you don’t pay it any mind. You finish with the mechanism, stepping away and sitting down next to JJ, passing some witty banter with Kie, and opening a bottle of beer, the cool glass soothing the hot skin on your palms.

“What does it feel like?” Pope asked, watching Kie as she sat in the can hanging from the pulley.

“Feels good.” she confirms, pulling the rope slightly.

“John B’s pulling a Houdini.” JJ stated, putting his own beer down.

“Yeah, where is he?” you asked.

“I got my scholarship interview in the morning.” Pope reminded, “We gotta get this done.”

“Speak of the devil!” JJ grinned as John B strode past you all without so much as a ‘hello���. “Hey! Dude, I put up the entire winch to pull up the gold and everything.”

“No he did not.” You laughed.

“We did that.” Pope said, gesturing between you.

John B ignored you, and Kie called after him as he entered the Chateau. “Okay, that’s it?” you muttered.

“What’s that all about?” Pope asked, walking to you and JJ.

“I was gonna ask you the same question.” JJ said, you and him getting off the hot tub and following him into the Chateau. When you entered, John B was pulling the house apart, searching.

“You alright, man?” Pope asked, “What’s up?”

“What are you looking for?” Kie added.

“Bro, what’s going on, man?” JJ asked, following him as he pulled the gun from under the cushioning on the sofa.

“John B, what do you need the gun for?” You and JJ stepped forwards, both reaching to take the weapon. John B grabbed your shoulders, pushing you over and shoving past JJ as you all yelled for him to chill and talk to you. Pope tried to block his exit.

“What are you, JJ, now?” Pope asked as you and Kie yelled for him to calm down. John B pushed Pope back into the table as you followed him out, asking for him to explain, or calm down. You ran down the steps, the others close behind. He mounted the dirt bike, looking back at the four of you.

“John B, what the hell?” Kie yelled.

“Ward knows about the gold.” John B spoke for the first time. “He killed my dad.”

You ran as far as the dirt track, watching the bike disappear as JJ swore.

--

“What now, we just go up to the front door and ask, ‘Hey, have you seen John B’?”

The night felt dark, cold, and your boat felt fragile next to the stupidly big boat across the pontoon from you. The shape of the Cameron house was huge and adorned with golden windows on the other side of the lawn.

“Look, he lives in Tannyhill now, it’s plausible.” Kie reasoned, but you could tell she was just grabbing at loose ends. “We can play dumb.”

“Play dumb?” you frowned.

“It’s pretty late.” Pope added.

“Look, I’ve never seen John B like that. We should honestly be going to the cops.” Kie countered.

“The cops? And say what, Kie?” you almost laughed, “‘We’re worried about our friend because he’s going off on a rampage because Ward Cameron killed Big John’? They’re not gonna believe us!”

“Hey, I see Ward.” Pope interrupted you, binoculars up as he watched the house. Kie took the binoculars, checking for herself. “Doesn’t look dead to me, let’s go home.”

“What?” Kie turned, shocked and offended.

“Uh, okay. Obviously Mr Cameron is fine, and even if John B was here, he isn’t now, okay? Plus, I have the biggest, most important moment of my life in six hours.”

“Yeah, well our friend is in trouble.”

“I’m in trouble! Guys, I haven’t been home in three days! My dad’s probably put all my shit on the street by now.”

“Okay, so that’s it? In a time of need you’re just gonna bail? You’re just gonna walk away?”

“Okay, yo, guys.” You spoke from the other side of the boat, “Can we not do this right now?”

“Hey, I have a scholarship interview in the morning.” Pope reminded Kie.

“Okay, well what about John B?” Kie asked.

“Why is it always about John B?” Pope questioned, and you sighed, looking away as Kie looked around, caught off guard.

“It’s not always about John B. You’re so stupid! It would be any of you in this situation.”

“Bullshit!”

“Guys.” JJ tried to stop them.

“This is about friendship!” Kie powered on.

“Bring it down.” said JJ.

“This is about pogues for life!”

“What about forensic pathology, huh?” countered Pope.

“Forensic pathology?” Kie scoffed.

“It’s my life! It’s everything I’ve worked for!”

“That’s your priority?”

“Would you stop with the moral high ground bullshit?”

“Pope, come on.” you cut in.

“No.” he rejected, “No, no. She has no room to talk.” You looked down, knowing you didn’t either. “Where were you when Big John went missing? You weren’t there. You weren’t there for John B. You weren’t there for any of us! Remember your kook year?”

“Dude.” JJ tried, again, to stop the argument.

“Yeah, you forgot about us. Now you feel guilty.”

“Give me a break.” She pushed him, and he staggered but held his ground, you and JJ were up within seconds. “Is that what you need? You need a break? Move!”

You and JJ pulled them away from each other, shouting for them to stop, to cut it out. You held Kie’s shoulders, the both of you breathing heavily. She stared straight ahead, holding eye contact with Pope as JJ looked between them.

“If I’m the one mediating, we’ve hit rock bottom.” JJ sighed. You dropped your hands from Kie’s shoulders. She sat down as you sent Pope to the bow of the ship, sitting down as well.

“Pope, we’ll drop you off.” You said, JJ steering the boat. 

--

You sat, facing away from the group, water washing around your ankles, arms propped up on the wood as you stared at your phone. You were aware of the conversation - the gold was gone - but you weren’t really listening, or paying attention. Your mind was plagued with worries that felt trivial compared with what was going on, but still felt like the world would implode if you didn’t sort them.

Tyler was rejecting your refusals, insisting you humour him. You turned around briefly to look at JJ, who was watching you. You wondered if he had worked out that you’d slept with Tyler, even though you hadn’t mentioned it. But, of course, you hadn’t mentioned it - he couldn’t know.

You broke from your thoughts as Pope came blundering down the path. “Guys!” he halted when he reached you, and you picked your legs up, swinging around to face the group. “Oh, God, I ran all the way here.”

“How was the interview?” you asked.

“Don’t ask.”

“Promising.”

“JB, look, I’m sorry dude. About everything.”

“It’s fine.” John B disregarded.

“But - but I don’t have a lot of time, and I have information that is tactically relevant. So, before I had my interview, my dad said he was going down to the private airstrip to cut palms for Cameron’s big plane. Because it was too heavy, it needed a longer landing strip to take off. So, I’m there sitting in my interview, thinking to myself, ‘Hm, why would Cameron need a longer airstrip to take off? What could be so heavy to weigh it down?’”

“Gold.” JJ turned.

“That’s right.” John B confirmed.

“Exactly! Guys, this is our chance, but it leaves tonight, and we have to go.”

“We can’t give up now.” Kie smiled, jumping down from where she was balanced.

“What’s the plan, big man?” JJ asked.

“We’re gonna steal that shit back.” John B stated.

You smiled, this was going to be a shit show.

--

“We go in there, guns-a-blazin’, make Ward Cameron beg for mercy, abscond with as much gold as possible, and vámanos, get the hell out of there.” JJ summed up.

“Send that shit right down the intracoastal.” John B added.

“Wait for the weather.” Kie reminded.

“Exit to Cuba.” Pope finalised.

“Cuba?” JJ sounded offended at the idea, “No, man, Xcalak, the jewel of the Yucatan. Lobsters so thick, mangoes, no word for money.”

“I like the sound of that,” you hummed, sitting up from where you lay across the back seats, “Let’s do this shit.”

The VW rattled on for a few hundred feet, John B curving into a break in the thicket, the lot of you leaping out of the car to a wire fence.

“What’s the plan?” Kie asked. “Broad strokes.”

“I don’t think we got that far.” John B admitted, Pope pulled out his binoculars.

“They’re loading up the gold.” Pope pointed out. 

John B took the binoculars, watching the scene before him. You were all pressed up to the wire fence, and you could see a car rolling up to the plane. You watched the figures exit, faintly recognisable without the binoculars. John B lowered the black instrument, Kie asking him what was going on.

“It’s Sarah.” 

You looked back at the plane. They played out like a scene in a play, little figurines moving around, until Sarah was being dragged onto the plane by the shape that must have been her father. John B disappeared from your side as the engine began to whir, loud enough to be audible from your spot behind the fence. Behind you, a car door slammed, and you shouted for your friend as he started the engine, forcing all of you to step back as he smashed through the gate, JJ’s “Don’t be a hero!” resounding in the air.

Still shouting, the four of you ran through the gap as he accelerated towards the moving plane, your shouts fracturing the air. Upon the realisation that whatever stupid, reckless thing John B was doing couldn’t be stopped, you waited in baited breath. You watched the van swerve in the plane’s path, the screech of the brakes reaching your ears. You heard and watched the second squeal as the plane halted, barely feet away from the pogue.

Somewhere in the distance, you heard the sirens.

“Guys, I can’t get arrested.” Pope spoke, breaking the shocked silence you had been standing in.

“I’m on probation.” JJ added. 

“We’re no good if we’re all in jail.” Kie confirmed, and you turned to the three of them.

“You serious?” you almost laughed.

“Y/N,” JJ started.

“Go, if you have to.” You nodded, “I’ll step in if he needs me, God knows what’ll happen.”

Kie and Pope nodded,setting off, but JJ stood. “You can’t-”

“JJ, you said yourself - you’re on probation. But they don’t know I’m here, I’ll be fine.” You smiled, stronger than you felt, “Go.”

He followed your friends, and you stepped back into the trees, the sick feeling in your stomach foreboding a turn of events. The blue and white police car was racing down the runway, and you could almost feel the panic in your friends.

You saw the Sheriff get out, and the exchange that led to Ward’s arrest. You watched her get him on the floor, gun pointed at his face, you heard a bang.

The scene froze for a second, but suddenly time sped up, the Sheriff collapsed, and there was another figure. The gun was pointed at John B. You felt yourself move forwards, but the figures were moving - Sarah’s crumpling onto the floor, Ward standing, John B’s moving to help Sheriff Peterkin. You watched Ward and the new figure. Fuck it.

“John B!” you screamed, and he looked up. He was sprinting towards you as the three Cameron’s started fighting. You jogged, the pair of you breaking into a sprint as you got to the woods, fighting your way through the thicket as more sirens joined the melee. Shots were fired, but they sounded numb to your racing mind. He was slightly ahead of you, faded hoodie flashing as you both ran flat out. Before you registered the road, the horn was honking and John B was rolling over the bonnet of a car. You grabbed his shoulders, pulling him up, the pair of you running as the driver shouted for you.

You needed to find the others.

You ran for a while, slowing to a walk as you discussed where the others would be. The junkyard, you thought.

After five minutes, you stopped, forcing him to prove to you that the blood on his arms was only Peterkin’s, and that he wasn’t injured.

Somewhere above you, there was a plane. 

You were walking slowly now, approaching the junkyard. You felt numb, knowing that everything was completely different now. You turned the corner, seeing the three other pogues gathered, Pope taking a hit from JJ’s juul. Weird.

They ran to you, seeing the blood in John B’s hands and your shirt (from your attempts to check his injuries) and immediately began to panic, giving you once overs.

“Who’s blood is that?”

You all ducked behind the clutter to avoid the approaching sirens, allowing yourself a moment to breathe. You glanced at the blonde boy next to you, but as you went to speak, he turned away harshly. What the fuck?

Tags: @tangledinsparkles​ @jellyfishbeansontoast​ @lolitstiana​ @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch​ @teamnick​ @thoughtsofthestars​ @obxmxybxnk​ @jjmaybankswife​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24​ @sxcretinhuman​ @alexa-playafricabytoto​ @angvelics​ @badwolf00593​ @coloradogirl07​ @mendesmaybank​ @jiaraendgame​ @5am-cigarette​ @emerald-xcd​ @haharudy​

#obx #obx fanfiction #obx fanfic #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fanfic #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj x reader #jj x you #jj x y/n #john b #john b routledge #kie #kie carrera #kiara #kiara carrera #pope #pope heyward #sarah #sarah cameron

[emeraldtawny]

Barbatos x Fem!MC: Non-Caffeinated Companionship

Hello~! Here is my contribution to ObeyMAX for the best demon butler boi uwu. No warnings, just floof. Hope you enjoy~ :3

The comforting bubbling of the boiling kettle is a familiar sound to Barbatos. He imagines the hot steam as his own personal stresses, watching them form and dissipate into nothing. It’s a form of catharsis without inflicting injury, plus it’s doesn’t taste so bad, either.

He places the nightshade and newt eye into the tea strainer and clamps it shut before reaching for the kettle, it clicking off as soon as he grips the handle. The water can still be felt bubbling within its confines as Barbatos pours it over the tea strainer. The water takes on a luscious blood-red from the blanched ingredients, diffusing to stain the clear liquid with its vibrant colour. With a soft, satisfied hum at his perfectly brewed cup of tea, Barbatos unclips the tea strainer and empties its contents into the bin beside him. He then sets the utensil atop a napkin on the counter whilst pouring water into the mug beside his own. A simple teabag sits in this mug, a perfectly normal teabag of Earl Grey.

The gentle, short vibration of his phone against the counter makes itself known. Even with its screen facing down, Barbatos knows exactly who it is.

“Running late. As always…”

Words that would sound exasperated instead leave his lips with a hint of affection, a smile breaking at the corners of his lips. With practiced hands, Barbatos removes the teabag and disposes of it, pockets his phone and then grabs both mugs and moves towards the empty wall. He taps the wall twice with his shoe and the wall immediately slides ajar, as if its infrastructure meant nothing. Barbatos steps out into the now connecting room, the lounge. He almost glides over to the small coffee table, setting both mugs upon its surface. Pulling his chair out without a sound, he takes a seat facing the actual door and waits, listening as the makeshift door slides back into place without a trace.

The steam wafting from both mugs is rhythmic, flowing. The complete opposite of the loud stomping footsteps getting closer and closer with each passing. The door bursts open, the air around it forced into movement. Standing in the doorway is a small, fatigued human, her panting breaths and flushed face an indication of physical exertion. Barbatos smiles at her arrival.

“There you are.”

The way she gasps for breath and flusters for words is oddly endearing, Barbatos thinks to himself. He waits patiently for her to find her tongue, her cheeks still flaring as she speaks.

“I am so sorry! I got caught by Mammon who was running from Lucifer. And then Levi wouldn’t let me get away until I told him my thoughts on the newest episode of an anime, and--”

Barbatos’ smile unconsciously widens, something he quickly schools as she continues to catch her breath.

“Fret not. I knew that was the case. It just meant I could spend more time brewing the tea, so I didn’t mind the delay at all.”

“Are… are you sure?”

He nods, his head dipping into a near bow - an instinct from his butler profession, “Of course. Now, please sit. The tea’s temperature should be to your liking right about now.”

She acknowledges him with an awkward hum, closing the door behind her and shuffling over to take the opposite seat from him. His hands resting one atop the other, Barbatos watches her pick up the mug and blow on its contents before taking a small sip. His eyes narrow in satisfaction the instant her eyes close in relaxation.

“Good?”

“Mm,” She hums, pretending to take another sip to hide her face as she replies, “It’s perfect.”

Barbatos grabs his own tea and joins her in closing his eyes as he indulges in the Devildom’s equivalent of chamomile. For a moment, the two sit in silence drinking their tea. But it’s not awkward, nor is the silence stifling; both are comfortable in each other’s presence, enjoying the time spent whether words are spoken or not.

“I do apologise for the lack of an accompanying snack,” Barbatos breaks the silence, “It would appear a certain demon found them and couldn’t help himself.”

She giggles at the poor attempt at vagueness on his part. “It’s fine. Just tea is enough for me, especially tea this good.”

“You flatter me.”

He takes another sip before setting the mug down, the sea-green tips of his hair masking the full effect of his inquiring stare. Her cheeks are still rosy, her shoulders set slightly stiff and her fingers fidgety as they dance over the ceramic mug.

“I consider it an extra obligation of my job to give you some time off from the rest of the demons. Considering how much they run you ragged, it’s the least I can do.”

Her eyebrows raise, “That’s why you started asking me to accompany you for tea?”

“Initially, yes.”

She sets her mug down, its tea drained. She meets his eyes, hers questioning and curious.

“What do you mean, initially?”

He raises his mug to his lips, murmuring softly into its mouth before sipping the last of his tea.

“Now, I wish for your affection and companionship…”

“Hm? What was that, Barbatos?”

He lowers the mug from his lips, holding its handle and cupping its base in his palm. He offers her a smile, imperceptibly softer and kinder than his usual professional smile.

“Nothing important.”

He stands and moves to grab her own mug, not missing the subtle pout on her lips. He laughs reservedly, meeting her eyes with an edge of foreboding mischief.

“Thank you for the tea.”

“Of course. Always a pleasure. Now, if I were you, I would start running.”

“Hm? What do you me--?”

The door almost breaks off its hinges with how hard it is pushed open. She jumps in shock and whips her head around, Barbatos moving towards the sidewall without so much as flinching.

“I foooouuund you~!”

“A-Asmo?!”

Her shout masks the soft sound of a shoe tapping against the wall twice in succession.

“You need to come shopping with me, this instant! It’s not fair that Mammon and Levi got you all to themselves. So it’s my turn!”

“Wait, but I’m hanging out with Barbatos right now.”

“Barbatos? But he’s not here.”

“Yes, he-- wha?!”

He stands with his back to the wall on the opposite side of the lounge, her confusion illustrated so clearly in her words he was certain he could paint a lifelike portrait.

“Shame on him for standing you up. Well, no matter. That just means we can have fun instead~!”

He listens to the clicking of two pairs of shoes get quieter and quieter, now certain that they have left. Barbatos moves to the counter and sets down the empty mugs, his lips curled into a sweet smile. He retrieves his phone, swiping the notification of her message across to open the app. His thumbs tap against the screen, his gloved digits making almost no sound despite the speed of his typing. He hits send and sets the phone down on the counter, allowing himself a grin as he sets to washing up the dishes.

Barbatos: Have fun. See you tomorrow ♡

#obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me barbatos #obey me female MC #obeyMAX #obey me seven #I love one (1) demonic butler #I wish to see how sweet you can be ^w^

[yoontopia]

Could you pleeeaseeee do one where (idol) Yoongi gets jealous of his (idol,bts) best friends esp, JK and Namjoon, becoming close to you?

here you go! it got a little long dfhjkfd I’m sorry! Thank you for requesting!

You tried to ignore Yoongi’s piercing glare from across your living room. Briefly you wondered what had got your boyfriend into such a grouchy mood. Usually he was good-natured, and it took him a long time to get angry. You were the hot-headed one in your relationship, with Yoongi’s cool head keeping you grounded. He never raised his voice, and when something bothered him, he spoke up on it right away. It was one of the many things you loved about him. This was brand new territory, and considering you had company over, you couldn’t really bring it up either.

“Is this the popcorn?” Jungkook’s voice piped up from the kitchen. You turned your head to see the younger boy holding a bag of instant popcorn.

“No there’s one with extra butter, use that one instead,” You told him and he flashed you a bright grin that had you smiling fondly. Out of all your boyfriend’s group members, Jungkook was your favorite. Being the youngest of the group, he had been the shyest of the members when you’d first been introduced. But years into knowing him, he had opened up to you and now was one of the boys you would consider yourself the closest with. Not that you’d tell the rest of them that you were picking favorites of course. “There should also be a big bowl in the bottom cupboard!”

You heard Jungkook make a sound of acknowledgement before turning back to focus your attention to your TV. It was break season for the boys and they were spending their last day, for some reason, at your apartment marathoning all the Marvel films. Jungkook had insisted that they be watched in chronological, and not the release, order. The eight of you were currently halfway through the very first Avengers movie.

“I’m still gonna stand by what I said,” Hoseok said, from his position on the floor. “This was the best Avengers film.”

“You’re mental,” Taehyung yelled sitting on the other end of the couch you were perched on. “Tell me what can possibly beat Infinity War.”

“Infinity War was overrated and so was the one that came after it – what was it called?”

“Endgame!” Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook said in unison, Jungkook’s voice floating in from the kitchen, indicating he could hear the whole exchange. Hoseok scowled. Taehyung laughed.

“You’re so uncultured,” he said, making Hoseok’s scowl deepen.

“I like Guardians of the Galaxy,” Namjoon piped up from next to you, and six heads turned to him, except for Yoongi, who was still staring daggers at the you. “What? The little tree guy is cute.”

“You may be most uncultured out of us,” Taehyung muttered, patting Namjoon dejectedly on the shoulder. You snickered.

“Did I say something wrong?” Namjoon whispered to you after everyone’s attention was back on the movie.

“Who knows? I don’t know the first thing about Marvel – I haven’t even seen all the films.” You answered him, watching Jungkook as he traipsed back into the living room holding a giant bowl of warm popcorn. He sat down on the couch next to Yoongi, placing the popcorn on your coffee table for everyone to share before grabbing a handful himself and sitting back.

“That’s why we’re doing this,” he said, munching on it. “When you said you hadn’t seen them all we decided it’s a crime!”

“And when did you tell them that?” Yoongi asked, voice tight.

“A couple months ago? I came along with Hobi and Namjoon and we went for coffee, didn’t we?”

“Coffee? The four of you?”

“Same aged friends gotta stick together, y’know?” Hoseok said, giving you a fist bump which you returned grinning. “Dunno why the kid tagged along though.”

“I wanted to hang out with her too!” Jungkook complained before sending you the most adorable smile.

“I see.” Yoongi said, and you shivered at his tone. None of the other boys seemed to notice anything was off, but you had known Yoongi longer than any of them and could sense when something was off. Jungkook, being the most oblivious, ploughed on as if nothing was wrong.

“I like her more than Jin’s girlfriend,” he said, nodding matter-of-factly making Seokjin sit up from where he was lying down next to Hoseok.

“Hey!” he yelled. “Keep Sooyeon’s name out of your mouth.”

“Sorry,” Jungkook grinned, lifting his hands up in defeat. You laughed.

“You’re my favorite too Kookie,” you said, and he shot finger guns at you before helping himself to more popcorn.

“Hey what about us!” Hoseok yelled, gesturing to himself and Namjoon. “We’re the same age!”

“She likes me more than you Hobi,” Namjoon said sagely, making Hoseok protest even louder. “We’ve established we’re best friends – and what was it she said it to me the other day?” By this point you had dissolved in a fit of giggles. “Oh, that’s right – she said we vibed on a whole other level.”

“What?” Hoseok screeched, making Jimin and Taehyung jump.

“It wasn’t anything serious!” you said, still laughing. “Namjoon just made me a playlist and it somehow included everything I liked – he’s a mind reader.” Namjoon flashed a superior smile at Hoseok, who spluttered.

“I’m not gonna stand for this favoritism. I’ll make you a playlist too just you wait! The amount of absolute bops it’s going to have – you’re gonna be blown away!”

“Well I look forward to it,” you said the same time as Yoongi snapped, “Focus on the film you idiots.”

That shut everyone up and the rest of the night passed by quietly. You finished the Avengers film and decided to call it a night. The boys left one by one, some of them giving you a hug and the others merely patting Yoongi on the back before heading out. Once the last boy – Jungkook – had left, after giving you a big bear hug and a tight squeeze, you shut the door and locked it, sighing to yourself.

“Every year they get more and more rowdy,” you joked, watching Yoongi as he padded his way into the kitchen. “You making coffee? I want decaf.” You followed him into the kitchen before collapsing in a chair at your small dining table. The clock above the microwave flashed 1 AM.

“Do you have practice tomorrow?” you asked conversationally, watching your boyfriend tap a spoonful of instant coffee into two mugs and putting water in the electric kettle and switching it on. He didn’t answer you, so you pressed on, “Yoongi?”

“I have meetings all day tomorrow,” he mumbled, leaning against the kitchen counter while he waited for the water to boil. “Share some early drafts on potential tracks.”

“Hmm,” you answered. There was silence after that, and not the good kind. “You okay? Yoongi?”

When he didn’t reply, you stood up, making your way to stand right in front of him. Snaking your arms around his thin waist, you buried your face in his chest, inhaling deeply.

“Why didn’t you invite me out to coffee with the guys?” he asked suddenly, his hands still jammed in the pockets of his hoodie. You looked up at him in surprise.

“It was just a spontaneous plan,” you said sheepishly, and Yoongi glared down at you. Upon closer inspection, he looked tired. You knew that despite being on break, your boyfriend had worked tirelessly to write lyrics and mix some beats. “Nothing special.”

“You’re way too friendly with the guys,” he mumbled. The only other sound in your apartment was the low bubbling sound of the water in the kettle.

“Are you jealous?” you asked jokingly. When he didn’t answer, you stared. “Wait-- really?”

“We barely spent any time together on this break,” he said. “And you went and spent it with them.”

“It was one time,” you said, letting go of his waist, frustration creeping up in you. “And whose fault was it that we didn’t spend time together? You holed yourself up in your studio the whole time!” Yoongi spluttered back at you.

��I’m your boyfriend,” he argued, and you groaned.  

“Did I ever insinuate otherwise?” Yoongi stared wordlessly at you and you groaned again. “You’re being so childish right now.”

“I know I am!” he snapped. “I can’t help it alright? You’re mine.” You sighed in defeat.

“Not that humans can just belong to anyone but,” you said quietly, wrapping your hands around him again, “you do have my whole heart.”

Yoongi’s expression softened and he returned your embrace, resting his chin on top of your head.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I couldn’t help it.” You giggled.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” you said, planting a chaste kiss on your boyfriend’s lips. He blinked down at you once again confused. “But promise you won’t tell Namjoon and Hobi.”

“Huh?”

“The only reason I met them for coffee that day,” you started, your hands reaching up to entwine themselves around Yoongi’s neck, playing with the hair at his nape. “Was to help them buy you your birthday gift.” Yoongi was staring at you, mouth slightly open, and you threw your head back and laughed. “So, you better act surprised when they give it to you in a couple weeks.”

“You’re obviously my number one Min Yoongi,” you whispered. “You always have been.”

And then Yoongi dipped his head down to press his lips against yours in a heated, urgent kiss, walking you backwards into your bedroom, the hot water and coffee were left all but forgotten in the kitchen.

#min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi fluff #min yoongi fluff #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenario #bts #bts scenario #bts fanfic #yoongi smut #myg #writings #requests

[diamondsnowflakes]

(A True Home Is) Dancing In The Kitchen

It isn't home until you're dancing in the kitchen. Sometimes it's who you're dancing with that makes it home as well. Dellumbra being unable to sleep in the early morning/late night.

Thanks to my roommate and good friend, Jay, for beta-ing.

AO3 Link

   Three in the morning and McDuck manor was still and silent. The majority of the people Scrooge had graciously allowed to stay in the manor were asleep, including the man himself, with the exception of a select few. One of these select few was Della Duck, Scrooge’s thirty-seven year old niece, who sat on the kitchen counter, one of her legs drawn to her chest and the other dangling from the edge as she read.

    The radio softly hummed from one corner, not breaking the silence, but instead making it feel cosy and warm. The notebook and pen that sat to one side of Della was accompanied by a quickly cooling mug of hot chocolate. Both were untouched, and she didn’t even look up when a set of heavy, muffled footsteps approached the closed kitchen door, and barely acknowledged when it swung open to reveal an unusually sleep-ruffled Penumbra, who was sleepily dragging herself to the kettle before she carried it over to the sink.

    “I’m guessing you couldn’t sleep either,” Penumbra mumbled, sounding the least robotic Della had heard her since the moonlanders had made their invasion attempt.

    Della smiled tiredly, finally looking up from her book to address Penni. “Nope, gotta love nightmares. The feelings they bring up are real great at making me not sleep.”

    “What nightmares and what feelings?” Penni inquired as she sat the kettle on its metal rotation base with a dull thud and set the water boiling. Its whistling broke the silence, but not the awkward tension that had settled between the two.

    “Just being back on the moon, the loneliness and guilt I felt before I met you… I never want to be back there, but my brain is a bitch so I’m back there every night. It’s fine… Just a little jarring… Makes sleep difficult,” Della closed her eyes and sighed, before opening them and staring at the cold floor, inches below where she sat. “Don’t tell anyone. As far as they know, I’m still the same old Della; sans a leg, with longer hair, and a tad more experience. Anyways, what about you? You’re as awake as I am.”

    “Who would I tell? The majority of people here are either more eager to hear about the Moon or still have a lot of mistrust for me, not that it isn’t justified,” Penumbra collected a mug and a tin of instant hot chocolate mix from a set of cupboards above the kettle as she talked before placing them on the counter and turning to Della. “And my own consciousness has, similarly to yours, taken to reminding me of my own guilt. As much as the planet Moon was my home before you, now I know all the wonders of Earth are as true as you say and now that the Moon has become full of memories I’d much rather forget, it isn’t my home anymore, although some part of me thinks maybe it should be. And let’s be honest, the circumstances I left in weren’t ideal.”

    There was a pause before the kettle whistled, breaking the tension that had been slowly growing throughout the couple’s conversation. Penni turned and busied herself with preparing her hot chocolate, similar to Della’s, and Della tried to stick her head back in her book.

    It took five minutes of uncomfortable silence, the radio playing quietly in the background, before Della broke the silence once again, having read the same paragraph five times without processing its contents.

    “Ugggggghhhhhhh,” She groaned, collapsing on the counter dramatically. “Penni, I’m boooooooorrrrrrrrrred.”

    Penni ignored Della’s display and turned to lean on the coffee counter, sipping her hot chocolate thoughtfully.

    “Penniiiiiii,” Della whined after a pause, slamming her book shut before jumping down from her perch and tossing it on the counter. “We should do something.”

    Penni blinked, startled out of screen-saver mode, before tilting her head slightly. “What do you suggest?”

    As if on cue, the soft music that had been delicately drifting around the kitchen faded out and the radio DJ announced the next song, a sappy slow love song that had been popular some ten years ago. Della lit up and started humming, swaying along with the melody and gently carrying herself towards Penumbra before stopping in front of her. She held her hand out to her and smiled softly.

    “Dance with me?”

    Penni almost reached for Della’s outstretched hand, but quickly stopped herself, looking at the duck with a wrinkled brow.

    “What’s wrong Penni?”

    “I- I cannot dance,” Penni admitted, looking away. “We didn’t dance on Planet Moon. I only learned what dance was when one of your offspring introduced me to it.”

    “That’s okay, I can teach you,” Della paused for a moment. “Well, unless one of the boys taught you to when they told you what it is.”

    There was another pause. Then Penumbra set her mug down on the counter and offered her hand for Della to take, allowing herself to be pulled neatly and gently to her dance partner’s chest.

    “That would be acceptable.”

    “Glad to hear it,” Della smiled, before starting her instruction. “Okay, so I might not have this down as an exact art, but my right hand goes on your back, here, your right hangs onto my shoulder, here.”

   Della and Penni arranged their hands with Della’s instruction, and soon they were standing in the outside left position, close enough to kiss had either of them worked up the courage.

    “Ready?” Della asked after a second of awkward silence.

    Penni gave a soft smile she reserved for Della alone. “Indeed.”

    “Just follow me, okay?”

    “Okay.” And the couple took off, rising and falling with the rhythm of the music as they spun around the kitchen softly.

    As they danced, something in Della settled slightly. The empty cavern left in her chest that’d been keeping her awake slowly calmed its flare and, as the Duck twin gazed at Penni, filled with a hurricane she’d only felt twice before. Her heart spun with the duo and Della couldn’t help but admire the moonlander in the golden-white kitchen lights, the way it caught on her sleep-ruffled hair, the periwinkle flush in her cheeks from exertion and adrenaline, and her focused frown as she concentrated on following Della without stepping on her in her oversized pyjamas.

    Meanwhile Penni’s heart stuttered in her chest as she focused on Della’s graceful footwork, trying to ignore the fact that her dance partner was only in shorts and a vest top, any sign of her jacket, warm long-sleeved shirt, practical brown shorts, or signature blue scarf left in her room.

    It was all too soon when the song ended, leaving Della and Penni standing close in the silence, staring at each other as the room filled with a new type of tension that neither of them felt like they could break. Then the moment was gone. The DJ on the radio started loudly announcing another song and Della was shaken out of her haze. She quickly shook her head and let go of Penni, stepping away before playfully bowing to her dance partner.

    “Thank you for the dance, m’lady,” She giggled, looking up at Penni from her 90˚ bow.

    Penni rolled her eyes affectionately and went back to leaning on the counter next to the kettle, focusing on her now cold drink. Della huffed a laugh at the response and hopped back onto the counter she’d been sitting on, picking up her book so she could attempt to regain her focus.

    The words still floated on the page, and this time it took three minutes for someone to break the new wave of silence, or at least Penni tried to before being interrupted by an exhausted Donald ambling into the kitchen, breaking the tension with the smoothness of a knife.

    “Della, Penni,” He rasped, stumbling towards the counter Penni was leaning against, prompting her to shuffle aside to allow him room to check and then boil the kettle.

   “Heya, Don,” Della yawned in response, putting down the book and stretching her arms above her head. “What are you doing up so late?”

    “I’m not,” Donald responded grumpily. “I’ve got work.”

    “Oh.”

    “Yeah,” Donald tapped his feet on the tiles of the kitchen floor as he waited for the kettle, leaning on the counter next to Penni. “From your question, I’m assuming you haven’t gone to sleep yet. You should probably go to bed, Dell, last time you didn’t sleep all night you crashed the plane.”

    Della rolled her eyes. “I’m not flying today, Don,” She paused and looked down, frowning softly. “I don’t even have my Joyrider anymore.”

    Della shook her head and took a steadying breath, quickly regaining her composure before configuring her face back into a bright smile.

    “Not flying doesn’t mean you shouldn’t sleep,” Donald sighed, turning around to the kettle just as it whistled and taking out a mug and the instant coffee he’d stashed at the back of the cupboard.

    “Eh, you’re right, but I’m still staying up,” Della crossed her arms.

    “Whatever, your funeral.”

    Della stuck her tongue out at her twin as he finished making his coffee and strolled out of the room, leaving the gaping silence hovering once again.

    Penni considered her options for a few minutes before opening her mouth once again, ready to say something even if she wasn't sure what, before she was once again interrupted. This time it was by Della hopping down from her perch, smiling sheepishly at Penni.

    “Look, maybe Don’s right, it might be my funeral if I don’t go to bed, and I can’t let that happen,” She put up fingerguns as she backed up towards the kitchen door. “Night Penni!”

    Then the door swung and Della was gone, leaving Penni with a weird aching in her chest she’d never felt before. She resigned herself to a lack of sleep that night. 

#ducktales (2017) #della duck #penumbera #penni #donald duck #dellumbra #dancing in the kitchen #ducktales #ducktales fanfiction #della duck x penumbra #fanfiction #diamondsnowflakes #oneshot #mutual pining #fluff and angst

[cherry3point14]

Stranger Than Fanfiction: Ch 1

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: No actual boys in this chapter. Other than that... confusion? Word count: 2,350. Chapter Summary: What happens when a mild mannered insurance adjuster becomes her own main character? A/N: I honestly. I don’t know.

Ao3 if you prefer

Routine is something that occurs so easily it would be impossible to conduct meaningful studies on the subject. The scientists would fall into their own patterns of routine while researching. A particular coffee drunk on certain mornings, a favorite seat on the evening bus or even a preferred font the research. Even the one team member resisting any sort of routine would become predictable in their attempts to be unexpected.

But this is not a story about scientists studying human nature.

This is a story about Y/N Y/L/N.

In the deepest recesses of her mind, Y/N dared to think she was unpredictable—from her mismatched socks to her affinity for spicy foods—and thus not subject to the weaknesses of mundane routine. Of course, she was wrong.

Every morning she woke up at the same time to the same incessant beeping of her alarm clock. A sound that once silenced she replaced with a sigh because her day began with not wanting to get out of bed. Where others might have drunk coffee she made herself green tea, which she sipped while listening to the news for exactly ten minutes. Enough time to catch the highlights in case some catastrophe was happening in the world, but not so long that she would get distracted.

Each night Y/N would drive home the same route and park on the driveway of her slightly too-large house. On Thursday’s her ageing neighbour would be watering his rose bushes and she’d wave, as good neighbours do.

That is, she followed this routine without question, until the last Friday in May.

There was nothing immediately extraordinary about this day as it started. As usual, she tapped a wordless tune while waiting for her kettle to sing—since she had not heard the idiom about watched pots and their tendency not to boil. Once the steam had finished rising she poured the hot water over the tea and watched the paper bag contort under the pressure of the liquid. Others might walk away and leave their drink to brew without care but not Y/N. She watched the water deepen to a soft green because the perfect tea had a perfect hue. Only by watching it with a keen eye could she properly measure the removal of the bag, once it looked like something akin to the grass in spring.

Again, how she made her tea was not out of the ordinary. Neither was the way she would sit with her mug in one hand and her phone in the other. Focusing half her attention on the news, half on her emails, and leaving no capacity left to appreciate the drink she had so carefully slaved over. After all her tea was it’s usual perfection and did not need much thought. These things were-

“Hello?”

Your thumb hovers over an email that assured you that you had, in fact, won a free iPhone. At the moment you were about to swipe and delete the spam cluttering your inbox you’d heard it. A voice. A woman. She’d been talking about... no. It was your imagination.

These things were puzzle pieces, a mess that Y/N would have to-

“Who’s there?”

Your eyes dart around looking for an intruder without moving your head. You’re not supposed to move your head if there’s someone trying to murder you, probably, that might tip them off that you know they’re there. But no one is there. No shadowy figures in the corner of the room and no burglars in striped shirts carrying burlap sacks. Your question falls on deaf ears. It bounces around your empty living room destined to go unanswered. Except there should be someone, right? As your thumb had moved the voice continued. But from where? From who?

This time you move your thumb slower, agile and waiting. As you do it happens again and you’re determined to find them this time.

These things were puzzle pieces, a mess that Y/N would have to organise before she could see the bigger picture. Except they did not feel like a mess to her, they felt like any other motion on any other day. She continued to wonder if she should buy some bread on the way home and the world continued to turn, unaware of the significance of this particular Friday.

You drop the phone from your hand as if it has given you an electric shock. Your mind flashes to standing in your kitchen minutes ago, craving toast but not having the necessary ingredients. The mental note you’d made was completely internal. You’d thought about getting bread knowing you would definitely forget.

There’s a beat. An actual pause in time where even your heart stops as you’re caught staring at the phone on the sofa cushion next to you.

You pick it up again and turn the device over in your hands. Maybe the sound came from the phone, although that seems impossible. How would your phone know you are out of bread when that’s not something you’ve said out loud? Everyone is so sure that Facebook listens to us all but it seemed unlikely they had jumped to mind reading so soon.

The screen of your phone darkens in warning that it will go to sleep and tapping it reveals the time. You've now sat there, speaking to no-one, longer than you normally would. Now everything else will be rushed. You choke a mouthful of tea and it’s somehow still too hot, so you decide against finishing the cup. Instead, you leap up and continue getting ready, happy to hear, well, nothing. No voice following you, revealing the contents of your kitchen cupboards, or anything else.

And then you finally rush out of your house to your waiting car.

The engine of Y/N’s car made an almost worrying clunking sound as she turned the key in the ignition, a sound that-

Your hand pulls away from the key in an instant as if it’s the key’s fault that the voice has returned. It’s either upset or fear on your face as you look around the inside of your trusty vehicle that’s always got you from A-Z, but now might have betrayed you.

“And it’s eight twenty-five folks, we’ll have traffic coming up in five but before that…”

“Shit.” You respond to the radio, or more specifically the time, realising that you’re now, still, running late.

The engine of Y/N’s car made an almost worrying clunking sound as she turned the key in the ignition. A sound that she would have been worried about were it the first time she’d heard it. The truth was she had been abhorrently ignoring the noise for many months now. By now it was as familiar as the rest of her morning and only solidified that today was so very achingly normal. Today was not the first, nor the last day that she would be running late for work yet it was the most important. Not that Y/N knew.

It’s a struggle to ignore the voice and keep driving. Your foot almost stumbles over the gas a few times and there’s one stop sign that you barely stop for. To be fair it’s not the first time you’ve almost missed this particular stop sign. Although when you start hearing a voice talking about your day, you can pretty much blame everything that goes wrong on that.

The thing you work out quickly, worryingly, is that this voice comes and goes. When she, whoever it is, finishes her little tribute to your crappy car there’s silence. You almost feel sane again. And so you let yourself fall right back into that false sense of security that it was some fluke of your imagination. You finish the journey and make it with five minutes to spare because you always drive a little faster than you should. Even if today you’re running from something unexplainable, you still find your shoulders relaxing as you step out of the car. Regardless of everything you’re on time for work.

Y/N breathed a sigh of relief as her work heels clacked against the tarmac of the underground parking garage. Against all the setbacks and stops signs that had tried to thwart her best-laid plans, she had made it. To Y/N this was the most extraordinary thing about her day. She was certain her journey time would set such a high standard that everything could only go downhill from here.

“Oh my god. Shut up.”

When in fact today would be a day that she would never forget. Today would thrust her into a life so exempt from ten-minute mugs of tea and almost tardiness, that she would look back upon days like this with a skewed sense of nostalgia. Today Y/N pressed the button for the elevator like she had a thousand times before. Whereas tomorrow would be entirely different.

“Obviously,” you huff an annoyed breath, “tomorrow’s Saturday.”

The woman was beginning to annoy you. Both her failure to get to the point and the fact that most of what she was saying was stating the obvious. The frustration bubbling inside your belly gets translated into pressing the button for the elevator more times than you need to, until the doors finally open in front of you.

The harsh fluorescent light of the elevator makes no one look good so you're not worried when you see tired lines on your face in the large mirror. It had been a long week and now to top things off you were going crazy, the things take their toll. At least in eight short hours, you’d be free for the weekend.

“Morning Y/N!” Instead of coming from where you would expect, the chipper voice was about three feet too low and completely out of sight.

“Laura?”

She pops up violently from underneath her desk holding a single post-it note flapping in her hand, “found it!”

“I’m proud of you?” you question, cocking your head to the side and wondering how much coffee she's drunk already.

Y/N was far too distracted to tease her coworker about her overly sunny disposition, as she usually would first thing in the morning. Once again she found her harmless routine interrupted by what she thought to be a series of meaningless accidents. When her preoccupation was down to the larger, irrefutable hands of fate.

“It’s not fate distracting me, it's you!” you whisper with the severity of a shout. By now it was easy to figure out that whoever or whatever the voice was couldn’t hear you. That didn’t stop you voicing your frustration at the new personality stalking you.

“Y/N honey, you ok?”

You look up at Laura to find a mixture of confusion and concern, only to remember that she is there at all.

“Laura! Did you hear that?” The excitement in your voice teeters on paranoia. Maybe it wasn’t you. Maybe you weren’t alone in this.

“Did I hear what?”

“That voice,” you gesture with your hands upwards figuring that it was coming from up high. Despite being on the top floor of the building. “The one drivelling on about fate and-and the fact that I need to buy bread!”

Your chest is heaving underneath your white shirt but only enough that someone close to you, like Laura, might notice your distress.

“Erm. Are you feeling ok?”

Her tone, along with the way she leans over her desk to whisper the question, is enough to snap you out of it. You’re being insane, out loud. It’s one thing to think you’re going crazy but another thing entirely to let other people know that you are.

“Yeah sorry, I erm… I watched a weird film last night.”

Laura laughs at that explanation, somewhat nervously but still, she laughs. She takes the opportunity for an explanation that doesn’t end up with you in a straight jacket. Did they even put people in straight jackets anymore?

“See you at lunch?” She asks the same as ever, ignoring whatever is wrong with you like any workplace friend would.

“Yeah, sure.” The smile on your face is thin while you wave a hand aimlessly to agree to lunch. You start walking to your desk in the quieter corner of the office before she gets truly suspicious.

Colleagues waved and greeted her as she walked through the stuffy yet open plan room. The usual sea of politeness was only personalised with her name here and there. Most of them hardly glanced away from their screens as they spoke to her. So wrapped up in their work that they merely greeted whatever figure it was that moved past them. Y/N was one of these mindless zombies on occasion. Throwing herself into work so deeply that she too would forget common courtesies such as eye contact.

“This isn’t happening,” you mutter when you finally slink into your chair.

It was then, on this Friday, this cloudy and uncertain day, that reprieve came to Y/N in the form of work. A Manila folder floating through the office as if on a cloud. A file atop a pile of files, each as indistinctive as the last. And yet, the file destined for Y/N’s desk would prove to hold the most important paperwork she would ever read. Each distinctive typed letter on each fresh white sheet would be more important than the last. And even Y/N, who had no idea of the significance of what she was about to receive…

“Well, kind of do now.” You grumble watching Hillary wander through the office with a stack of assignments. She arrives at your desk wearing a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes and hands you the topmost one.

…would feel goosebumps prickle her skin as she receives the folder. Almost as if somehow she could perceive the importance of this assignment, without ever having opened it. Little did she know that this seemingly innocuous file would set about her new life, as well as her imminent death.

“Wait. My what?”

Continue to Chapter 2.

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23 Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278​ @bloodydaydreamer

#dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn x reader #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean dean the soft lil bean

[nineteenseventeenbarnes]

Cinderella

Pairing: CollegeAU! Bucky x reader Genre: fluff Word Count: 3084 Warnings: n/a

I stood in the middle of the school gym, sweat dripping down the back of my neck, I was dead tired. I can’t wait to get home and jump under the sheets of my big comfortable bed.

I snapped out of my trance as I heard the beat of the music blasting through the stereo and moved to the side, waiting for my cue before I hopped in and began dancing to the music alongside my cheer mates.

“Good job, girls!” Our head instructor yells, clapping her hands. “Take a break! Be back in 5. We’ll go through the routine a couple more times and we’re done for the day!”

The other girls cheer, some of them dropping themselves on the floor, others making their way out the gym to grab food or a breather. I need one too.

I walk over to the bleachers and grab my water bottle, chugging the entire content of the bottle down, savoring the feeling of the water passing through of dry and itchy throat.

“Hey! Save some for me!” Nat yells and grabs the bottle from my hand, drinking whatever was left in the bottle. I let out a big sigh and sit on the bleachers, massaging my aching legs.

“I just want this to end,” Nat groans, plopping beside me.

“You’re telling me,” I mumble in response.

“Wanna go grab a bite after practice?” she asks me, watching me remove my shoes and massaging the sole of my aching feet.

“Nah, I’m gonna head right home and sleep,” I reply. Nat rolls her eyes and grabs one of my shoes, examining it.

“Hey, give that back,” I demanded, scared of what she’d do.

Sometimes, Nat could be unpredictable. There was a time in high school where she pulled the fire alarm because she thought the whole week had been too ‘uneventful’ - her words. Needless to say, it was definitely eventful for her after the incident, I heard the principal’s office served instant coffee.  

Nat looked at me, wiggled her eyebrows, and then threw my navy blue Nike Air shoe across the gym, landing right below the ring of one of the basketball courts.

I give her a look. She just stood up with an innocent look on her face and skipped away, knowing I was going to be annoyed. I rolled my eyes and made my way across the gym to grab my shoe.

Right before I could pick my shoe up, someone beats me to it and holds it out for me.

“Thank you!” I tell the stranger before I glance up and get a better look at him. He was around 6 to 6'2, wearing the university’s basketball jersey and had a towel hanging around his neck. He had dark brown locks that he pulled into a bun, a little stubble growing, and the most captivating set of ocean blue eyes ever.

“No problem, Cinderella.” He grins and walks away.

Hi, my name is Y/N L/N, a senior college student at Oregon State University. I’m a member of the university cheer group together with my best friend Nat, and we’re proud of that. We worked really hard to get where we are.

The next day, I get to the campus and see a bunch of colorful posters and streamers being hung up. I almost forgot graduation was around the corner, meaning the graduation ball was coming up.

On the way to my last class for the morning, I receive a text from Nat, who had decided to ditch classes today.

FROM: Nat Y/N/N, meet you in the mall at 5. See you! Xx

Oh right, I was going graduation ball shoe shopping with her this afternoon - I nearly forgot. I tucked my phone in my pocket and proceeded to class.

I impatiently tapped my foot on the tiled floors of the mall and checked my phone for the 100th time. It was nearly six, and Nat was nowhere to be found. I couldn’t reach her through her phone, nor could I find her in her favorite café down the street.

A couple of minutes later, I receive a text and nearly screamed out loud.

FROM: Nat Y/N, I LOVE YOU. SO MUCH. Can’t make it. :( Bruce’s taking me out to meet his parents. I’LL MAKE IT UP TO YOU, I SWEAR. xx

“Fucking hell,” I mumbled, closing the message. “Guess I’ll have to go pick something out myself.”

I begin to walk around the mall, looking through shop windows to see if any heels attracted me, and as I got on the escalator to get to the second floor, someone grabbed my wrist, startling me and making me lose footing.

I fell backward and crashed into someone’s chest as the escalator continued moving upwards.

“Whoa, easy there, Cinderella,” A familiar voice spoke, a hint of playfulness in his voice. I spun around and saw the boy who gave me back my shoe during practice the other day.

“It’s you,” I whisper, standing back up, still a bit shocked from the fall. He grins and gently pushes me, signaling me to get off the escalator as we got to the top.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask him, trying to make small talk. It’s not that I wasn’t comfortable with him or anything; it’s just that we barely knew each other and he was talking to me as if we were buddies.

“Well, I was going to buy a tie for the ball next week, but then I saw you,” he tells me. I nod and turn to walk away, letting him go do his business until he grabs my wrist again.

“Yes?” I politely ask him.

“What are you doing here, Cinderella?” he asks me with a toothy grin.

“Shoe shopping for the graduation ball.”

“That’s pretty ironic,” his smile turning into a smirk.

“How so?” I ask him, trying to humor him and his small talk.

“You’re Cinderella,” he starts. “Buying shoes. For the grad ball.” He explains. I raise an eyebrow, obviously confused with where this ctonversation was going.

“Well, Cinderella, why not let Prince Charming come along?” he suggests, wiggling his eyebrows.

A small smile forms on my face, amused by what this boy was saying. Hell, I didn’t even know his name.

“Well, Prince Charming,” I play along. “Before I let you take me shoe shopping, may I know your name?”

“My name is James Barnes, but they all call me Bucky.”

“Well, hello, Bucky, the name’s Y/N L/N.”

“Well, Y/N, shall we start looking for your glass slippers?”

About an hour and a half later, Bucky plops himself on the sofa of the last shoe store in the mall.

“I swear, if there isn’t a pair you like in this goddamn shop, I might as well just get you to sneakers,” He grumbles, tired from following me around the 26 shoe stores in this mall. I chuckle and start looking through the shelves. "Dummy, you didn’t have to tag along,“ I told him the 10th time today.

"Dummy, I told you wanted to,” he responded, mocking me.

After walking pass every shelf in the store, with nothing catching my eye, I turned around and got ready to go, until I saw those pair of shoes in the corner of one of the shelves. It was a pair of gold stilettos, probably 5 or 6 inches.

“Hey, Cinderella, are you done? 'Cuz I’ m-” Bucky whines, walking over, but stops midway. “Those look hot.”

I roll my eyes at his comment and check the bottom for the size. It’s a size 38, perfect. As I bend down to try the pair of heels on, Bucky stops me.

“What?” I ask him.

“May I have the honors?” he asks in a fake British accent.

“Sure. I AM Cinderella after all,” I joke and give him the pair. He bends down and grabs the left heel and my left foot, gently slipping the heels on, followed by the right one.

“It’s perfect.” I squeal, walking around in them.

Bucky grins widely, probably relieved that I finally found a pair of heels.

It was the night of the ball and I was sitting at our table, going through some of the pictures I’ve taken with Nat earlier tonight. I was in this gorgeous gold gown and my matching heels from the other day.

Surprisingly, I hadn’t seen Bucky around all week. I never got to thank him for tagging along with me the other day. After paying for the shoes, we had a quick dinner and McDonald’s and parted ways.

“Boo,” a voice whispered into my ears, making me jump in my seat.

“Good Lord,” I breathe out, turning around to see Bucky with an amused look on his face. Speaking of the devil.

“Scared you, Cinderella?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, chuckling. I roll my eyes but smile a little.

He sits on the empty chair next to me. It was supposedly Nat’s seat, but she’s off somewhere playing or mingling.

“Hey, Bucky?”

“Yeah?” he replied, looking at me.

“Why do you keep calling me Cinderella? You know my real name,” I ask him, wanting to know what he’d say. He merely shrugs and smiles.

“Boys,” I mumble, earning a soft chuckle from the boy.

“And why are you here, Bucky?” I ask him, trying not to sound rude.

“I was bored. Plus, I missed you,” he answered, giving me an adorable crooked smile. I return his smile and get back to looking through my pictures, Bucky still beside me.

“Hey, Y/N,” he calls out.

“Yeah?” I tore my eyes away from my phone and to the boy beside me.

“I-”

“Y/N!” Nat calls out, walking back to our table from somewhere. She gives Bucky a questioning look, wondering why he was here.

“Umm… See you around,” Bucky mumbles as he stands up and quickly leaves the table.

“What was that about?” Nat asked.

“Don’t know…"

It was almost midnight when the ball ended. The students were leaving the area, but Nat and I stayed, waiting for our other friends.

When we were finally ready to go, Wanda, one of our other friends, suggested we should hit the club down the road.

"We’re going drinking?” I asked, not exactly surprised, but just making sure.

“Yeah!” Wanda responds, hopping up and down in excitement. Clubbing was her forte. So we left the area and walked towards Club Hydra. 80% of the seniors should be there right now, partying.

“WOOOO! YEAH, BABY!” Tony, a guy from one of our classes, screams in our ears as we walked in the club, music blasting through the speakers. Many people sat by the bar, others in the booths while others danced on the dance floor.

“Let’s go dance!” Nat shouts over the music, pulling me along. I laugh and follow her to the dance floor, jumping around, doing really stupid moves like the sprinkler and bunny hops.

Half an hour later, I got tired and told Nat I was going to grab a drink and sit down. She shooed me away and continued dancing with our other friends.

I made my way towards the bar and ordered a margarita, making myself comfortable on one of the bar stools.

“Hey, Cinderelly,” a familiar voice called out, I turned around to see Bucky standing there, his signature crooked smile etched on his face. His bow tie and the first two buttons of his dress shirt were undone.

“Hey, Prince Charming,” I played along, laughing as Bucky struggled to get on the high bar stool despite his height.

“Here’s your drink,” the bartender says, pushing the blue drink towards me. I thank him and take a sip, feeling the alcohol burning down my throat.

“My, oh my,” Bucky talks in his not so convincing British accent, his words slurring a bit. “Her majesty drinking alcohol?”

“Bucky, are you drunk?” I asked, amused at how similar his attitude when he’s drunk and when he’s sober are so similar.

“Of course I’m not, Y/N!” he replies, taking a sip from the glass he was holding. Probably whiskey.

“Oh yeah?” I chuckle. “How many fingers am I holding?” I ask him, holding all five of my fingers up.

“I’m tipsy, not blind,” he reminds me, patting my head.

“You just admitted you’re drunk,” I tell him, shaking my head.

“No, no, no,” he shakes his head. “I’m tipsy. There’s a fine difference between the two, Cinderella.”

“Sure, sure,” I answer, not wanting to start an argument with a drunk – I mean – tipsy person.

“There really is a difference, though!” he begins, his words becoming more and more slurred as he takes another sip of his whiskey. “If I were tipsy, I would tell you you looked beautiful tonight, if I were drunk, I’d tell the same thing and tell you how much I regret not asking to for a dance.”

“E-Excuse me?” I shrieked, choking on my margarita, surprised at the sudden confession. I feel my face heating up, will he notice?

“Aww, look, she’s blushing!” he chuckles slowly, his head was probably spinning. Yeah, he did.

“I said you looked beautiful tonight,” he repeats, smiling.

“Umm,” I mumble, not sure how to react. “Thank you…?"

Wow, smooth, Y/N. Someone just drunkenly told me I was beautiful and my response sounded half-assed.

"BUCK. PAL, THERE YOU ARE!” someone shouts over the music, approaching us.

“STEVE!” Bucky shouts back, reminding me of a puppy whose owner just got home after a long day. He stands up from his seat, almost tumbling in the process.

“Whoa,” Steve, as Bucky called him, quickly catches his friend. “Slow down, pal.”

“Hey, Steve,” Bucky quickly speaks. “I was just telling Y/N how beautiful she was tonight.”

I mentally slapped myself as I felt my face growing even hotter. Steve shook his head and chuckled.

"I’m sorry about all of this, Y/N,” Steve apologizes, throwing an arm over Bucky’s shoulder, holding him up. “I’m Steve Rogers.”

“No harm done. I’m Y/N L/N,” I smile as Bucky’s piercing eyes continue to stare at me.

“We should get going, Buck,” Steve mumbles, trying to pull Bucky away.

“Whaaaat? But I was talking to Y/N,” he whines, his words continued to slur. Steve chuckled and kept dragging Bucky away as he protested.

“We’ll see you around, Y/N. It was nice to finally meet you,” Steve grins.

“Bye, Bucky, bye, Steve,” I waved as they left. I continued thinking about Bucky’s words. Was he being serious? I tried not to think about it, but his words continued to echo in my head.

Here I am, six months later, still kind of fresh from college, but definitely enjoying my 8-8 job - sarcasm intended.

After the party, in the two months before graduation came around, I never saw Bucky around campus or around town anymore. Yeah, sure, I searched him up on social media, never having the guts to add or follow him, and I saw Steve around campus, we occasionally said hi, but never had we ever brought Bucky up. I didn’t bother asking anyone either. It felt like that night, the night at the club, it was supposed to be something between us.

For two months, I wondered and wondered about where he had gone. It’s not my fault, after his remarks at the club, I wouldn’t be a girl if I didn’t want to confront him and ask for answers. Did he mean it? What he said? That was the question running through my mind, a question I believed never would be answered.

But of course, like every question we have, we find the answers eventually. I found the answer to my question on graduation day as all the students were called one by one.

It was a windy, but sunny afternoon. Everyone was gathered in the university auditorium and our school director began the ceremony. He was reciting his long boring speech about how a chapter in our life was ending and we were starting a new one. Not interested, I decided to glance around the auditorium, trying to get time to pass.

On the other side of where I sat, I saw Steve, who met my eyes. He smiled and waved, mouthing congratulations. I smiled back and congratulated him back. I glanced around his area, wondering if Bucky was around.

I’m not one to deny that I’ve taken a liking to him. A normal person wouldn’t just come up and call you Cinderella and almost treat you like one.

But then again, Bucky wasn’t a normal person.

An hour later, after all the speeches and presentations, they finally started calling our names one by one for our diplomas.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” the school president called out. I looked around, hoping that maybe that certain a particular 6 foot, brunette’s head would stand up, but to my dismay, no one stood up.

“Ah, yes,” the president spoke up, clearing his throat after. “Barnes moved to another state a few months ago.”

Well, you can imagine my reaction by now. Wide eyes, mouth agape. But, at least my question was answered.

I sat at a café across the university. The area just brought back so many memories and even after graduation, I didn’t want to move away, not especially since Nat was staying.

I was going through the notes I had written during my meeting with my client earlier and occasionally sipped on my peppermint latte, scanning through my notes.

A couple of minutes later, I receive a text, my phone lighting up, the picture of Nat and me at the ball was set as my wallpaper. I unlocked my phone and saw that I had received a text from Nat asking me where I was.

The picture brought my mind back to the graduation ball, back to Bucky. To the first time I met him, thanks to Nat, to the time at the mall, the stupid jokes he made, his whining - I shook my head, quickly replying to Nat’s text.

No, I shook my head. He was just a little crush, his crooked smile and steel blue eyes didn’t affect me. Brain, just shut up.

I went back to reviewing, blocking out the chatters in the café, when suddenly, the seat across me was pulled back.

I looked up and my eyes widened. I couldn’t get anything out of my mouth.

“Mind if I sit here, Cinderella?”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel fanfic #avengers fanfic #college au #bucky x oc #james buchanan barnes fanfic

[lilwenney]

looking for affection in all the wrong places (iv)

pairing: will x female!reader warning(s): *to the beat of lil jon’s ‘shots’* angst angst angst angst, alcohol, mentions of smut, people are shit at communicating, adrian  word count: 4k a/n: part i, part ii, part iii / playlist can be found here / woah boy. sad times are upon us. i realized while writing this that i need a friend like cleo. 

One night stands were awkward only if you allowed them to be. They were sloppy, rushes of lust filled with twinges of passion in the moment while the following morning were mostly always filled with regret. (Y/N) could count on two hands the times she had shuffled around a dark, foreign bedroom after a one night stand to find her clothes and leave as soon as possible, because well, she was now sober and sticking around until the sun came up in a stranger's room didn’t seem like an ideal way to spend her Saturday morning. 

But the morning after James’ last party with Will next to her in bed was anything but awkward, for reasons completely unknown. She never thought that laying in bed naked with one of her close friends would somehow be... comfortable? Relaxing? She didn’t know what it was. She thought she was still drunk and her shame hadn’t kicked in yet. 

Her and Will laid in bed at 11 a.m. Saturday morning, laughing as they looked at the photos that everyone had sent to the groupchat either the previous night or that morning. There was a photo of George hanging half-way off the back of the sofa, Ciarán had a birthday hat on, Simon had found (and fixed) the inflatable penis and was cuddling it on the bathroom floor, and there were numerous other photos of them dancing, group shots, or general nonsense like cup-stacking and beer pong.

There was never a time that she felt uncomfortable around Will, even right when they first met. They had met and became instant friends all in the same night. Throughout the years he had seen her naked, held her hair back while she threw up in a bush, they had made out now numerous times before, and now they were a notch in each other’s bedposts, but they laughed that morning like friends. 

Now she felt like she was teetering on the borderline of comfort and attraction. Was she just comfortable being around him, even while naked? Or was there an unspoken feeling deep down that she never acted on? Before, the thought of any of this happening wasn’t even a possibility, and now, they were here. And it happened. 

“I need to shower.” She yawned, locking her phone back and placing it on the nightstand. 

Will looked at the time on his phone and nodded, then yawning after her, “me too. You mind if I shower here?” 

“Ah, don’t care. You have clean clothes here from the last time you were over.” 

“When was that?”

“When Gee beat you at Monopoly and you left to stay here for the night.” There was a running theme here - Will was just really bad at board games and he was also a sore loser. 

“She cheated, y’know!” 

She shook her head with a smile, “whatever you say, love.” 

Will kicked his legs out from under the duvet and over the edge of bed, and when he stood up, she saw his butt in full view for the first time. “Oh my god you have a boy butt!” She shouted as he grabbed his briefs from the floor and slid them on. 

He turned around and looked at her with an amused expression, but a scrunched brow. “What are you waffling about?” 

Her bedroom was dark when they stumbled inside, neither of them willing to break away for just a second to flip on a light. Now she caught a glimpse of his behind for the first time and let out a small squeak in laughter. 

“Boy butts are weird Will. You have a long torso and such a little butt.” 

“Little butt?” He asked, shocked. “I have a perfectly plump bottom thank you.” 

She laughed, throwing the covers over her head, “just go take a shower.” 

Will shuffled around, grabbing his clothes so he could leave the room (without scarring Cleo), and he laughed before playfully throwing his jacket on top of (Y/N) as she remained under the covers. She giggled and uncovered her face as he walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him. 

A few minutes after Will left, she got out of bed and got into the showering in her adjoining bathroom. Steam filled the tiled room as hot water poured down her back and washed away sweat and body glitter, the scent of berries filling the bathroom and her nose, allowing her to finally relax her tensed muscles and her shoulders. 

Stepping out of the shower door and wrapping herself in a towel, she opened the door to see the bedroom door ajar, so she knew that Will had come back in. She gave it a second, brushing her teeth before calling out; “Hey,” to see if he was actually in the room with her. When he made a noise back, she asked, “do doughnuts sound good to you right now?” 

“Immensely,” 

“Alright, then we’re getting doughnuts.” 

Within just a few minutes of drying her hair, (Y/N) was in a pair of joggers and a jumper, and her and Will were heading down in the lift to her car. Looking at themselves in the mirror of the lift and taking photos, she had a good laugh at Will’s outfit - black joggers and a baby blue jumper, but a pair of her neon yellow socks were shining underneath the cuff of his joggers. He didn’t leave any socks the last time he was over, so he settled for hers instead. When the lift doors opened to the car park and they stepped out, he told her to piss off and they both slipped into her car. 

For the middle of December that year, London’s weather wasn’t all too bad, except for the cold nights and rain that came around far too often. That afternoon she drove them through the rain, her wipers raking against the windshield almost on the beat to the music Will was playing. What would be a ten minute drive to Shoreditch any other time took them an unsurprising thirty minutes instead due to normal weekend London traffic. 

Sure the nearest place to get doughnuts was literally next door to her flat, but where she was taking Will was a hidden gem of a doughnut shop, and while (Y/N) loved it, taking thirty minutes to get there did test her patience. And Will’s. He had a low tolerance for traffic on a normal day, so this one was particularly worse, and she ignored his complaints by turning the music volume up and smiling at him in response and he rolled his eyes. 

Right in the middle of Shoreditch was a corner shop painted bright green, standing out among the other buildings in the bleak Winter. She pulled her car along the side of the street and her and Will piled out, stepping onto the pavement and walking across the street to the window. 

“Get whatever you want,” she said, crossing her arms to fight off the cool wind, “I’ll buy since you complained about it the entire time.” 

Will stared at the building, glanced at the menu, and then looked at her. “Didn’t mean to complain, I just don’t trust your taste in gourmet doughnuts.” 

She shot him a look and he tried to hold back a smile before she playfully slapped his arm. “Just go order something,” 

When Will stepped up to the register, eyes scanning over the array of doughnuts behind the glass and began picking and choosing, (Y/N) felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She switched her keys into her other hand and quickly fished out her phone, turning it over to look at the screen, expecting it to be Cleo, to be the groupchat. 

Adrian Russell Are you free today? 

When she first read over the text, she thought that she had misread the name, so she read it back in her head, spelling it out letter by letter until she realized she had not been mistaken. All it took for him to text her was a week and three days since the last time they spoke, nine hours since they were in the same room together. 

Her heart dropped at the realization of what was going on, a sudden heavy weight pushing on her shoulders. He was trying to come back to her. For the most part, she had completely gotten over him since unblocking his number a mere three weeks ago. There were no late nights crying herself to sleep or days spent sulking on the sofa with a mouth full of popcorn because he had yet to text her, instead she found solace in being single and going out with friends and surrounding herself with good people. 

And that was the slow understanding that she was no longer making out with Will at parties to make Adrian jealous. She was making out with Will because she wanted to. 

However, there was a twinge of mixed emotions that clouded in her head. She had spent the last year with Adrian, gave him everything she had to offer and more, and a piece of her longed for the familiarity of being with him, but the other half remembered most of the bad in the relationship. She was more in shock, her brain frazzled, trying to figure out what exactly broke the camel’s back for him. 

“Hey,” her head snapped up, watching Will take a step back from the window. 

“Oh,” she breathed out before looking at the cashier, “sorry.” 

(Y/N) quickly pocketed her phone and stepped forward, rambling out her usual order plus an additional few. Cleo would be pissed if she didn’t bring back one for her specifically, so she made sure to add in a few extra. 

Will took notice of her bouncing on her toes, one of her nervous habits. “You okay?” He asked when she finished her order and she nodded, but didn’t meet his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” 

Picking up the folded boxes of sweets, Will watched on while she tapped her card and paid for their food. He decided it wasn’t worth it, running the good mood they were having that morning, so he let go of her nervous mannerisms and they walked back to her car. 

Unlocking the doors from a distance, trying to combat the rain, they jogged quickly across the street and slid back inside to their seats. Will held the doughnut boxes in his lap, adjusting his seat-belt while (Y/N) turned on the engine and turned on the heat. 

“So how about a coffee?” He finally asked when she slid on her own seat-belt. 

She hummed, sitting back in her seat. “There is a Costa nearby, yeah?” 

“Yeah, yeah, think so,” he nodded, “oh, and I got it this time, don’t worry.” When she didn’t say anything for a second, he turned his head to look at her, and she was smiling. “What’s that grin for?” 

“Do you even know my Costa order?” 

Will licked his lips and read off the order from memory, “regular iced latte with almond milk.” He said it with such certainty. It had been well over a year, but he still remembered her order from the time they had Costa delivered to his flat. She was persistent with the almond milk after all. 

Her smile grew even wider. She cared about the little things, that’s what made her happy. And Will remembering her coffee order was definitely one of those little things. “Damned you, what’s your order? I feel like a right shit friend.” 

“That’s for you to figure out and memorize yourself. Not playin’ easy here.” 

“Oh piss off,” she laughed again before pulling her car onto the street. 

***

It was rare for the friend group to hang out more than twice a week, and it was even more rare for the friend group to see each other more than three times in five days unless they were on holiday. But (Y/N) and Will became the exception; a Friday night party, a Saturday morning doughnut and coffee run, a Monday movie night at hers, and a Wednesday game night at his. 

He called her earlier in the day and she came around a few hours later, they had take-out and a few beers and then ultimately settled on playing video games that Will knew he would 100% beat her at. 

“This is all just muscle memory, love,” 

“Oh fuck off with that,” she cursed loudly, stretching her foot to the side to nudge his controller in attempt to throw him off. But Will was too quick, dodging her at the last second and crossing the finish line just inches ahead of her. A groan of agony followed a cheerful shout, then belly laughter at their drastically different reactions. 

She looked at Will as he tossed his controller down, hands thrown in the air in rejoice. In a bout of 2-out-of-3, Will had come out victorious with a last second pull away, securing his second win of the three races, and he celebrated by teasing, poking her cheek as he called out, “I told you I was gonna win!” 

While he was quite literally the only person on this planet who could annoy her, she was now realizing just how much she took these moments for granted. No weekends spent together or holidays with friends abroad was like this - it was just them in the most natural environment possible. 

Luckily for her, Will was starting to feel the same way. He found himself waking up in the mornings with his mind immediately on her, wondering what she was doing, wondering if there was a way he could see her. The days he was used to spending alone in his room editing until the early hours were no longer. His fingers always found her number in his phone. 

He didn’t understand it, really. How a friend for years was always just a friend until one night. 

Moving her legs from his lap, she allowed him to stand and stretch his long limbs. They had been playing games for a while - at first it was FIFA, that he absolutely destroyed her at until it was no longer fun, and then they switched to Mario Kart, which he was also having a blast beating her at. Video games were the only way he could beat her at a game, and she did well at reminding him of all the times he went bankrupt in Monopoly. 

“Want a beer?” He asked rounding the edge of the sofa, heading towards the kitchen.

She nodded while still focused on the screen, changing the color of Yoshi for the next race, “yes please.” 

After changing the color of Yoshi back to green, she was picky, she placed the controller down on her lap and waited for Will to walk back in. Her attention was elsewhere when she felt a phone vibrate on the sofa, and she immediately started to look for her own phone, but saw that it was Will’s phone instead - the screen lit up on the cushion next to her leg. 

It was a harmless glance, one she didn’t even really mean until she realized it far too late that it wasn’t her phone, but her stomach had already dropped. 

Hanna Day Missing you x

And just like that, they were coming back around. 

In all fairness, it took Hanna a few more days after the last party in comparison to Adrian’s handful of hours after. And (Y/N) rolled her eyes, trying to push out the idea of the girl that floated in her head. 

It was to no one’s surprise that Hanna and (Y/N) hadn’t got along well while Hanna and Will were dating. Hanna was the type to be your best friend one second, and then be behind your back the next, and everyone close to Will knew that, specifically the girl friends he had for years. Hanna was never fond of her boyfriend’s best friend, because there were always questions that revolved around their status as “just friends.” Just like how Adrian questioned it, too. 

But (Y/N) and Will’s friendship wasn’t even particularly new, they had been friends for years after meeting at Fabric, a London nightclub, just months after they both moved to the city. They met through Gee, Will’s flatmate, and by the end of the night (Y/N) was helping Will find his keys on the sticky nightclub dance floor and then wound up asleep on his sofa. And they were close ever since. 

It was the summer following their meeting that they crossed the line of “friends” while in Barcelona, but it was a line they never crossed again once returning to London. And it wasn’t much longer after than that, she and Adrian met through James and began dating, and then a handful of months later, Hanna and Will started dating too. So there was never any true reason for Hanna to dislike her - she just didn’t like the fact that Will had other female friends with a history of being close. For her own insecure reasons, (Y/N) assumed. 

“Was that mine?” Will asked, coming back from the kitchen, handing (Y/N) one of the uncapped beers he brought from the refrigerator. 

She nodded, immediately taking a sip before replying, “yeah, think so.” 

Out the corner of her eye, she watched Will sit back onto the sofa and reach for his phone, but his expression didn’t change after seeing the name across his screen. Deciding she didn’t want to know if he was replying or not, she focused back on the telly screen, flipping through the colors of her character again to occupy herself. 

“It’s Hanna,” was all he said before locking his phone back, placing it on the coffee table, now upside down. 

She played it off like she hadn’t seen it, raising a brow, “yeah?” 

Will hummed as he sat back against the cushion, immediately choosing his character and allowing the screen to move on. He didn’t say anything else, leaving it at that, but she felt obligated to say something. 

“Adrian texted me too,”

Will glanced at her hastily, “when?” 

She let out a deep breath, not meeting his eyes but watching the screen count down to one again before their race started, finding herself in an awkward limbo of telling him the truth or lying for the sake of whatever was going on between them. She knew that she should have told him before now, that she should have on Saturday, but she felt like it would have ruined everything. If she had told him right then, she doubted if he would have even come over Monday, if she would be on his sofa right now.

After all, they got what they wanted, right? They won. But it was feeling much more complicated than that. 

“Saturday,” she blurted out.

Will didn’t say anything for a moment, playing it off as focusing on the race instead of the thoughts racking his brain. He remembered Saturday afternoon in Shoreditch - sitting in her car eating doughnuts and drinking coffee on the side of the street while rain pattered down onto the roof, them laughing and listening to music while talking about anything that came to mind. And he remembered thinking at the time that her mind seemed elsewhere, but he decided not to push it for the sake of ruining their time together. 

It then clicked in his head that that was when Adrian texted her, when she looked like she saw a ghost at the doughnut shop.

“Yeah?” He asked casually. “Did you text him back?” 

She shook her head, “no,” 

There was a second of pause between them.

“Are you going to text her back?” 

But there wasn’t any hesitation for Will’s answer, “no,”

Later that night, after a few more games of Mario Kart, (Y/N) slumped back into her flat in Poplar. The door clicked shut and she tossed her keys down onto the foyer table, her ears picking up the sound of music coming from down the hallway. She followed the sounds to Cleo’s bedroom. Cleo didn’t even look up from her laptop, where she was writing an already extremely late paper for her history of cinematic fashion course, to see her flatmate fall face first into the duvet next to her. 

A few minutes passed and Cleo finished up her paragraph before asking, “and how are you?” 

“Don’t know, honestly,” she replied, voice muffled by the material of the duvet. 

“And that is because?” 

“I don’t know what I’m feeling on the inside.” 

Cleo leaned forward and sat her laptop on the bed, her attention now away from the linen skirts of a 17th century period piece and onto her flatmate, who at this time, hasn’t caught a break in two weeks. 

“You were at Will’s flat, yeah?” Cleo received just a nod in response before (Y/N) rolled over, head resting on her friend’s thigh. “So what happened?” 

“Everything was going really well, and then Hanna texted him.” 

“Hanna? Hanna Day?” 

She huffed. “Yeah, she was telling him that she missed him. I accidentally read it and now I wish I hadn’t read it because I feel sad.” 

Cleo reached down, running fingers across her cheek and then moving to play with her hair. “And why do you feel sad?” 

(Y/N) stared at the ceiling, opening herself up and releasing the feelings she had kept inside for the last few hours. It was hard for her to keep things in, but this was something she couldn’t particularly explain easily. Especially to Will. 

“I don’t know, really,” her voice was like a whisper, “I think - I think it’s because I’m scared he’ll go back to her. What we are doing is just something dumb to make them jealous, at first it was anyways..” 

Cleo frowned, feeling where the conversation was going. She hated seeing her best friend fall into a mess of feelings, but sometimes, it just happened, whether you wanted it or not.

“And now I don’t want it to stop. But I don’t want to do it just to make them jealous.” 

“Because you like him,” Cleo said softly. 

Her eyes drifted closed and she focused on the feeling of Cleo’s fingers then smoothing at her hair, and then running through the strands again, and she nodded. “Yeah,” she admitted, “because I like him.” 

Cleo was always the logical one of the two when it came to feelings. She liked to listen and then talk things through, so a lot of their friends relied on her for her wisdom in times of need. This was one of those moments.

“You wanted a sweet moment of revenge, but what you wound up with was an ex-boyfriend who texts you while you gained feelings for quite literally the only person you’re not supposed to have feelings for.” 

“I didn’t bloody mean to gain feelings for him.” She said harshly. “But it’s just nice - I don’t know, it’s nice that what I feel around Will is new, and it’s refreshing.”

“You were looking for that feeling in the wrong place, because you got yourself into quite a mess.” There was the brutal honesty, but it was what needed to be said. “But don’t beat yourself up over it, your feelings are just messed up and it’s understandable.” 

“What should I do?” 

Cleo let out a small breath, twirling the stands between her fingers. “First, I think you need to talk to him.” 

“I can’t talk to him about this. It’s embarrassin’.” 

The blonde sighed again, shaking her head at her friend’s stubbornness. “And then you need to figure out what you want.”

“It just sucks,” she said again and Cleo nodded, leaning down and placing her head on her arm, kissing the skin of her shoulder. 

“I know it does, I know it does,” she whispered, and their conversation died down, the music continuing on for them. 

#will #fic: affection #fanfic

[softsichenghours]

metanoia {m.l}

summary: after a painful breakup, you set out on a journey to live your life, never thinking the boy at the gas station would bring the most meaning into it. 

word count: 11.2k (i went a little overboard) 

category: fluff, a little bit of angst, soulmates au

warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of religion, a tad bit suggestive, death

a/n: yukhei, johnny, and donghyuck are side characters, the song mentioned is slow it down by the lumineers, props to you if you can find the quote from the end of the f****** world, heavily inspired by the world is ending and i’m with you by @jaeminlore​ so pls check that out too

you and your soulmate have matching tattoos that become clear once you meet.

metanoia: the journey of changing one’s mind, heart, self, or way of life. 

you had a secret. a secret you could tell nobody. not your friends, not your family, not your boyfriend. well, you couldn't tell him because it was about him. well, your relationship with him. that sounds terrible. the secret about your relationship that you kept hidden away from your boyfriend wasn't a bad secret. yes it was. it wasn't a secret like you were cheating on him or you knew something bad that he didn't, but you knew it could hurt you both in many ways. 

your boyfriend yukhei was wonderful. he was the light of your life, always creating sunshine wherever he went. he could help you out of your bad moods in an instant and he dealt with your nihilistic views on the world, despite his opposite beliefs. he was a smooth talking flirt, which was what first pulled you in to him a year ago. 

the concept of soulmates was something so cherished in your society. when you met your soulmate, your matching tattoos appeared on your body. for years you watched as your friends in middle school and high school got their tattoos with their high school sweethearts. you were convinced you were never going to get yours, although you were still very young.

it was a cold winter's day when you met yukhei. you and your friend were walking into a café, as yukhei and his friend were walking out. had either of you been delayed by even ten seconds, you wouldn’t have met. yukhei called it fate, you called it coincidence (you were never one to indulge in such foolish concepts such as fate, magic, destiny, etc.) you wore your brand new cream coloured knit turtleneck and yukhei spilled his hot coffee all over it while running into you. he must've apologized ten times over but you shrugged it off, more annoyed that the coffee was basically scalding your skin. you offered to buy him another, but he denied. instead, yukhei bought you and your friend your drinks and even tried to compensate you for the price of your sweater (which you wouldn't take. it was just a shirt). 

once the two boys had left the café, your friend started babbling about how she thought one of them was her soulmate. she said she felt a tingling on her skin, never mentioning where, but saying that her older sister told her that's what the tattoo felt like when it appeared. she said she had a suspicion that it was yukhei’s friend.

within ten minutes, the boys were back in the café. you watched them discuss something on the snowy sidewalk before entering the tiny shop again, the christmas chimes clattering. your friend held her breath when they made their way back over. 

“uh, hey again.” yukhei smiled sheepishly, snowflakes dusting his hair and shoulders. “it seems that i've lost my number.”

“huh?” you chuckled in response, sipping your hot cocoa.

“i lost my number. can i have yours?” 

that's how smooth wong yukhei was. that's how you ended up falling in love with him. 

but you had a secret. yukhei was not your soulmate. 

yukhei got his tattoo. a little sun right on the inside of his wrist. you were falling for him and although you knew it was wrong and useless to be in a relationship with him if you weren't soulmates, you didn't want to let him go. 

so you lied. you said that your sun tattoo had shown up on a part of your body that was too personal to show him. but a year into your relationship and it was still too personal to show when he asked. because you didn't have it.

you cursed the gods or whatever had created soulmates. you knew of people who hated their soulmate when they first met. you knew of people who's soulmates had died and then they were alone forever. but you cursed them because you loved yukhei and he wasn't yours.

your secret was about to be revealed.

you and yukhei had been fighting a lot recently. over stupid things that every couple fought over. you wanted to get a new apartment away from the noisy city, he didn't. he wanted to get a pet, you didn't. neither of you did the dishes and now they were piling up in the sink. every couple fought about these things, but soulmates were able to resolve them easily. you hated to admit it, but your feelings for yukhei were fading. it was because he wasn't your soulmate. 

you tossed and turned in your shared bed, not being able to sleep because of the noise outside your window. your apartment with yukhei was right in the middle of the city, where it was loud day and night. 

after hearing a particularly loud and aggressive honk from a car horn, you sat up in bed, rubbing your temples and praying for yukhei to change his mind about moving. 

“why are you awake?” he mumbled, turning to face you, his eyes still half shut with sleep. 

“how are you asleep?” you sighed, wondering how he could sleep with all the noise. 

“just ignore it.” he suggested, like it was a world changing idea. you rolled your eyes and got out of bed, hoping the couch would provide more comfort to your ears. 

“i can't “just ignore” it.” you mocked his voice as you trailed out of the room. 

“seriously?” yukhei groaned, getting up to follow you. you didn't want to argue right then, in the middle of the night. 

you walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water first. yukhei followed and leaned against the counter, watching you intently, like a detective interrogating a criminal in a movie.

“what is it, xuxi?” you asked, clearly agitated, using his mandarin name. 

“why do we always have to fight? soulmates don't fight like this.” soulmates. your secret had become heavier and heavier to bare lately. 

“i don't know.” you said bluntly. “maybe we just want different things, yukhei. i want to have a good nights sleep for once, but you don't want to move so that can happen.” you snapped. this was so stupid, and you both knew it was. you put your cup in the sink after taking only two sips, and tried to walk away from him. 

“but soulmates don't want different things–”

“we’re not even soulmates, xuxi.” you let your biggest secret slip out of your mouth. just like that. the cat was out of the bag. 

yukhei was silent for a moment. “w-what?” he asked, even lightly chuckling as if he thought you were joking. when you turned around to look at him, you knew he was connecting the dots. 

“that’s why you never wanted to show me your tattoo. because–because…” he couldn't finish his sentence. 

“because i don't have it.” you finished for him. an uncomfortable silence settled over the dark room, both of you truly realizing that you weren't soulmates. 

“i'm sorry, yuk–”

“you knew all this time and you didn't tell me? then who's my soulmate?!” he exasperated in disbelief, throwing his hands in the air. 

“it must be someone else you met that day…” you said in a quiet voice. it was silent again. 

“you lied to me for a year?” he spoke into the dark silence, tears collecting in his usually sparkling eyes. you didn't mean to make him cry. you didn't want him to cry. his watery eyes caused yours to fill up. 

“i didn't lie, i just–” you didn't know what to say. “i love you, yukhei.” you stepped closer to him, your fingers wrapping around his slender wrist. but you knew it was too late. he pulled away from you and turned his head to look at the floor as his tears fell. you shouldn't have said anything.  

“i thought only soulmates could truly love each other.” he scoffed, wiping at his eyes ashamedly. you realized something. 

“so you only loved me because you thought i was your soulmate?” you questioned, your eyebrows furrowing and your eyes burning into the man standing in front of you. your tears started to fall. “i loved you even though i knew you weren't mine.” 

yukhei took one fleeting look at you, and from the expression written all over his face, you knew it was over.

if there was one thing your parents taught you, it was that you had to live your life the way you wanted to. you couldn't let other people boss you around or tell you what to do. your life was your story, and you had to write it word for word.

that's how you ended up in your van that must've been over ten years old, aimlessly driving down the highway. you knew you had to get away from your life. your break up with yukhei was your reality hit. everything was meaningless anyway, so why not? you wanted to see as much of the world as you could and what could be a better time than during heartbreak? 

so you took your savings, shoved a mattress onto a wood palette in the back of your van, and hit the road. you didn't know where you were going, but you had been driving for a few hours now. you kept going, despite the tears blurring your vision that you tried to desperately blink away, despite the sun setting and darkness setting in, despite the rain furiously slapping against your windshield. wait, when had it started raining? you were so consumed in your own thoughts that you hadn't even realized the change it the weather. maybe it was time to take a break.

you stopped at a gas station in the nearest small town. the roads seemed too quiet, but maybe it was because it was after dark. you stepped out into the pouring rain, getting drenched almost as soon as your foot hit the ground. you ran inside, not noticing a pair of eyes watching you from inside the store. 

“is that everything…?” the boy behind the counter asked hesitantly, his fingers tapping the edge of the surface out of habit. you both glanced down at your array of foods you had dropped from your arms; chips, those rotated hotdogs that definitely weren't real meat, beef jerky, a box of tissues, and three cans of redbull. 

“yes.” you replied dryly, a slight chuckle escaping your lips. 

“roadtrip?” he questioned as he scanned the items. 

“you could say that.” 

it was silent for another moment. all you could hear was the low hum of the electric open sign, the deep buzz of the freezers, and the crinkle of the plastic bag he was putting your food into.

you finally looked up, grabbing your wallet from your pocket, letting your eyes examine the boy in front of you. he looked young, your age or younger. you couldn't deny that he was cute—high, sculpted cheekbones, smooth, fair skin, wide doe eyes. 

his eyes were what attracted you to him the most. when they finally met yours, you noticed that they sparkled, almost. you couldn't look away from them. you felt an itching sensation on your chest near your shoulder, almost like a tingle that you couldn't describe. 

you paid for your stuff and exited the store, stepping back into the rain. but you stopped in your tracks, something coming to your mind. something that had been described to you before. you turned your head in either direction to make sure no one was watching you before pulling the front of your shirt out and glancing down at your chest. and there it was, right above your heart. a single music note tattoo. you were sure that hadn't been there before. 

you were on this journey to find yourself and find happiness in this dreary world, and that's how you found yourself going back into the gas station. the boy watched as you marched up to the front counter. you noticed how he rubbed his left hand against the edge of the surface, almost as if he was relieving an itch. 

“hi again.” you breathed out, not believing you were doing this.

“hi…?” he said hesitantly, rocking on the heels of his feet lightly.  

“i know this is going to sound insane–” you eyed his name tag, “mark, but i think you're my soulmate.” 

he was silent. you were silent. the whole damn store was silent. maybe the world was silent. 

you released your breath when he didn't say anything after what seemed like an eternity. he just stood there, wide eyed, his mouth pursed in an “O” shape. 

“okay then, never trying that again.” you mumbled, taking a step back from the counter, turning on your heel to leave. maybe this whole soulmate thing was rigged and your tattoo was bullshit. 

“w-wait!” he called nervously. you looked at him again, waiting for him to say more. “i think you're right.” he laughed. 

“i'm right?” you repeated, like you weren't sure what he had said. but you heard him correctly. he lifted up his hand, displaying the music note tattoo in the middle of his palm, identical to yours. 

“can i see yours?” he asked quietly, his sparkling eyes even wider than before. “i mean, if it's–y'know.”

you nodded and pulled down the edge of your shirt ever so slightly, just enough to reveal your tattoo. 

“woah…” he muttered, his eyes darting from your tattoo to his, back to yours. he reached out as to place his palm on your chest, but you jolted back, letting your shirt go back into place. 

“sorry.” mark stuttered out, drawing back his arm. it was quiet again, both of you just looking at each other. how weird was it that you had found your soulmate so fast? and where did you go from there? 

for the first time in a long time, you found your heart speaking instead of your mind. 

“come with me, mark.” you didn't just say that.

mark laughed, looking down and shaking his head subtly. “i don't even know your name.”

“i’m y/n. now you do.” you blurted out, not being able to take your eyes off him. 

“how do i know you're not going to kill me?”

“i mean, you don't. but we’re soulmates, i think you should take my word for it when i say i won't murder you.” 

he hesitated again. “i'm off in,” he checked his watch. “ten minutes. but i have responsibilities.”

mark lee’s (you learned his full name on the drive to his apartment. he talked a lot) apartment was just like him from what you observed; somewhat tidy, somewhat all over the place. he had clothes on chairs in the kitchen, but there were no dishes in the sink. there was a half eaten apple on the counter, but he had instructed you to take your shoes off before you came in. you were surprised he was even going with you. 

“so, what are those responsibilities you were talking about?” you asked, looking around his place. 

“well, i have to pack a bag, make sure the tv and lights are off…” he trailed off as he walked down the hallway, presumably to his room. “oh and–” he stopped and crouched down, tapping his fingertips on the floor. “jellybean!” 

what the hell was he doing? you opened your mouth to ask if he was okay in the head, but then you saw it. a tiny ball of orange fluff running out of his room. 

“mark, what is that?”

he scooped the kitten into his arms. “this is jellybean.” he looked at you and smiled, his eyes sparkling once again. you merely blinked at him. 

“don't tell me you're allergic?” he whined, his face dropping. 

“i'm not allergic, but where will we keep it? where will it piss?” you questioned, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“i don't know, but– jelly is all i have,” he said quietly, petting the creature in his arms. “it's me and her, or neither of us.” 

“mark, get your feet off my dash.” you sighed, glancing over at the boy who was now in your passenger seat. 

“why?” he questioned, just to be defiant. 

“because it’s distracting.”

“more distracting than the cat trying to jump into your lap every two minutes?” he giggled, grabbing jellybean before she could prance over the middle console again. you merely nodded and smiled, keeping your eyes on the dark road. you were trying to find a spot to pull over and park for the night, without getting killed in your sleep. it was getting late, and you were getting drowsy.

finally, you found a clearing on the empty highway and pulled over, parking the van and looking over at mark. his eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell gently. you couldn't deny that he was breathtaking while he slept. if he was going to sleep right there, keeping that pest of a cat away from you, you weren't going to fight it. 

it was dark enough that you could barely see anything in the back of the van. the only light provided was from the moon and the stars coming through your tinted windows. you felt around for your bag, quiet as to not wake mark. you picked out a sweater and shorts from your bag, and figuring it was dark enough, changed right there. 

and mark would've gotten away with watching you, if jellybean hadn’t meowed into the silence, making you jump. you quickly pulled the sweater over your head, before turning to face mark, whose face was red as a fire truck. 

“i-i wasn't looking, i swear!” he stuttered. he wasn't meaning to look in a sexual way, but the way the shadows cast by the moon fell over your bare shoulders and back entranced him to you. 

“don't do it again.” you huffed, pulling your hair back into a ponytail. it was awkwardly silent until mark glanced out the window and thought of something. 

“let's look at the stars.” he suggested, placing his cat in the back with you and opening the passenger seat door, stepping out into the brisk night air. you were too tired to protest it, so you opened the back doors of the van and stepped out, now right next to him. he was already craning his neck up towards the night sky. you thought he was crazy when he stepped onto the floor of the van and hoisted himself onto the roof. 

“what are you doing?” you questioned, looking up at the boy. 

“view’s better up here. come on up.” he smiled, reaching his hand out to help you up. you had nothing else to lose. 

“well, lying on the roof of my van with a stranger hasn't been the weirdest thing that has happened today.” you chuckled, turning your head to look at mark. 

“hey, i'm not a stranger,” he defended himself with a smile. “you know my name, you've been in my apartment, and you've pet my cat. i think we’re well acquainted by now.” 

“i think you're crazy.” you shook your head jokingly and looked back at the sky full of stars. 

“well i think you're crazy.” he fired back. 

“i am crazy, mark lee.” you said, nudging his shoulder with yours. 

“i can't believe you're my soulmate.” he sighed contently, wriggling closer to you. 

“why? were you expecting someone else?” you questioned. 

“no, it's just– i've worked the night shift at that gas station for a year. no one interesting has ever come in there before while i was working. and then the first person who looks like she's got a good story comes along, and she's my soulmate.” he explained. 

“i look like i have a good story?” you glanced over at him again. he looked like he was deep in thought, silent again for a moment.

“what are you running away from? nobody gets up and leaves like that for no reason.” he turned his head so that his eyes met yours, sending a chill down your spine. 

“it's silly.” you shrugged it off, not sure if you could talk about yukhei without bursting into tears.

“it's not silly.” he reassured in a quiet voice.

“would you believe me if i said i was running away from a relationship?” 

“really? but…” 

“yeah, i know,” you sighed. “i know you're my soulmate and all but…he believed that i was his soulmate, but it must have been someone else he met that day. i guess just couldn't keep the secret anymore.” 

“you knew you weren't soulmates but you didn't tell him?” mark questioned, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at you. 

“don't get me wrong, i really loved him. i didn't just do it to play with his emotions, i’m not that much of a bitch.” you laughed, making mark smile at your word choice. “i mean, i don't know if romantic love can truly exist with someone who isn't your soulmate, but whatever i felt for him, it was real.” you looked away from the boy, not even noticing the tears in your eyes. but he did.

“oh shit…i'm sorry, y/n.” 

you sat up, still looking away from him. even though he was who you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with, you didn't want him to see you cry. not when you’d only known him for a few hours. 

“hey, are you okay?” he asked quietly, moving closer to you, rubbing his hand soothingly up and down your back. it felt like your body jolted with electricity at his touch. 

“yeah, i'm fine, i just–it's hard to get over him when we were dating for a year and i know i broke his heart and as soon as i leave him i find my soulmate and—” you stopped yourself, not wanting to break down in sobs.

“well, we don't have to be soulmates like that yet.” he offered. “we can be…best friends.”  

you couldn’t help but laugh at how pure he was. he brought his other hand up to your face, wiping the tears off your cheeks gently. 

“okay, okay, we can be best friends.” you agreed, looking into his eyes, your stomach plunging to your feet. he was so breathtaking. god, you’d only known him for four hours.

 waking up next to mark lee definitely startled you at first. the mattress in the back of your van was barely big enough for two people, but thankfully you both managed to keep your hands to yourselves throughout the night. 

you woke up before him, and quietly exited the van to get a breath of fresh air. you huddled down into your sweater, the chilly morning air making your teeth chatter. you thought it was funny how you still reached for something that wasn’t there, a dirty habit that you had quit months ago. 

you nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt something furry rub against your bare ankles. 

“jesus…” you muttered, glancing down at the cat that must’ve escaped the van when you did. you noticed how jellybean had slept peacefully in mark’s arms the entire night. now she sat at your feet and looked up at you, meowing for attention. 

“i’m not picking you up. i don’t like cats.” you said, like it would hurt her feelings. why were you even talking to a cat? you were sure you had lost your mind. jellybean pranced around your feet in circles, her meows sounding more like a baby crying. 

“okay, okay,” you gave in, scooping her into your arms just so she’d shut up. she immediately nuzzled into your chest, purring with delight. you felt yourself smile. “maybe you’re not so bad…”

 how mark lee had convinced you to go to the beach, you didn’t know, but there you were, lying on a towel on the sand, watching your soulmate try to build a sandcastle. 

“you’re such a child.” you joked, taking your sunglasses off to see him more clearly. his sandcastle wouldn’t stick together because there was no water. you didn’t know if he knew this or not.

“i am not!” he laughed. “you’re just jealous of my sandcastle.” as he said that, the sand crumbled in his hands again. “shit.”

“you need water for it to stick.” you mentioned. 

“oh. yeah. but i don’t have anything to transport the water in.” he said as he looked around for something. he finally eyed your water bottle, which you let him use. finally, he seemed content building his sandcastle. 

you put your sunglasses back on and lid on your back, trying to relax and absorb the sun. it lasted for around two minutes before the sun was blocked out by a shadow. you opened one eye, looking up at mark’s form hovering over you. 

“yes?”

“come swimming with me.”

“don’t want to.”

“please?”

“no.”

“okay…” he pouted and moved out of the way. 

it wasn’t even a minute later and mark tugged on your arm.

“pleaseee?” he whined, his hand latched onto yours. you sighed and sat up, hoping that if you got in the water with him, he’d leave you alone to rest. 

“the water is too cold.” you complained with a giggle, watching mark splash around delightfully. 

“i know, but you’re supposed to swim at the beach, not sleep.” he teased.

“i was not sleeping!” you protested, laughing at how silly your arguments were already. you would only get in the water up to your thighs, your skin already numb from the frigid water. you wondered how mark could submerge himself completely. oh yeah, he had mentioned that he was from canada, it was always cold there, right?

you dragged mark out of the water a few minutes later, not wanting either of you to die from hypothermia. as you sat on your towel again, you watched as mark’s teeth chattered, water dripping from his hair onto his face. you wanted to tell him i told you so, but you actually felt bad for him.

“hey, uh, i forgot my towel back in the van...i’m gonna run back and get it.” he said. you noticed the goosebumps covering his arms and the slight shiver in his body, and the van took a few minutes to walk to. 

“here, have mine.” you offered, standing up and shaking out your towel before handing it to him. 

“you sure?”

“yeah, i’m fine.” you smiled, pushing it into his chest. “take it, mark.”

he grasped it hesitantly, a small grin forming on his lips. “well, here, take my sweater so you don’t get cold.” it was his turn to push the blue garment into your hands. you didn't protest, feeling the chilly wind picking up. instead you pulled the sweater over your head, suddenly engulfed in mark’s scent. 

you didn't want to admit it, but you were growing a liking for mark lee.

you felt nervous as you drove down the small town road, your mind swarming with thoughts. you had known mark lee for a week and he wanted you to meet his friends. he had told you that his friends opinions of you mattered more than his parents, which made your stomach churn. would mark’s friends like you? yeah, sure, you were his soulmate, but what if he was easily influenced by his friends? but they wanted to meet you, too. you could only hope for the best. 

you parked the van on the street beside the lonely bar, taking a deep breath and pulling down the visor. you could feel mark’s excitement radiating off of him from the passenger seat. you brushed through your hair with your fingers and applied lip gloss in the tiny mirror. you could feel his eyes on you. 

“you look pretty, you know.” he spoke up. you were almost startled by his compliment. you weren’t used to receiving them. 

“thank you…” you glanced at him and back at yourself in the mirror. he could tell you were nervous.

“they’ll like you, don’t worry.” he said, grabbing your hand. you were sure that startled you more. he rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand comfortingly, smiling softly. “they’re really chill.”

“or are they weird like you?” you joked, focusing your attention on him. his eyes seemed to sparkle even more that night. 

“yeah, they are.” his smile only grew.

you didn’t intend on drinking but once mark’s friend johnny announced that he would be the designated driver back to his place (where you and mark were going to crash for the night), you decided a few drinks wouldn’t hurt. you learned that mark was a total lightweight. after a few beers he was drunk, and then you learned another thing about him. he was clingy when he was drunk. mark lee was clingy and giggly and touchy. 

so when he put his arm around you and laid his head on your shoulder for the fifth time that night, his friends started to question your relationship. he had explained to them that you were just friends. well, as friends as soulmates could get. they were all so happy for mark, and you were happy he had a group of people who could really understand him. 

mark lee was sneaky. every time he clung to you in his drunken state, he added something else to make your heart race. it started off as just his arm around your shoulder or your waist, then he would lean his head on your shoulder, then he got really bold and intertwined his fingers with yours under the table. maybe it was your drunken state, but you felt flustered and your heart jumped to your throat. you hoped the other boys wouldn’t notice just how red you were. 

johnny proposed that you called it a night when the clock struck midnight and mark was asleep, his body limp against your side. you agreed and attempted to wake the boy. 

“mark, we’re leaving.” you whispered, poking his cheek. he hushed you and didn’t move. 

“come on, marky.” you giggled, trying to push him off you. he finally sat straight, a quiet laugh escaping his lips. 

you got your bags (and jellybean) from the van and sat in the back of johnny’s car, where mark had managed to sober up enough to not fall asleep on the ride to johnny’s place. you laughed and sang along drunkenly to the radio the entire ride, johnny glancing at you through his mirror, rolling his eyes jokingly. you had never felt more alive than you did in that moment. 

mark collapsed on the bed in johnny’s guest bedroom, his tiredness (and drunkenness) taking over. you dropped your bags on the floor and set jellybean down before making your way over to him. 

“at least put on pyjamas, silly.” you said, grabbing his arm and attempting to make him sit up. he merely muttered nonsense to you, his eyes remaining closed. 

“mark…” you dragged out his name and laughed, your mind still cloudy. you let your grip on his arm go loose and before you knew it, he pulled you down on top of him, making you laugh out loud. 

“come on, seriously?” 

“why are you so pretty, y/n?” he questioned, his eyes now open and peering at you. 

“why are you so cheesy?” you fired back, ignoring your heart about to beat out of your chest. he didn’t answer, instead he tucked your hair behind your ear and let his hand linger on the side of your face. a few seconds felt like a million years with him. you moved one hand up his chest and booped his nose before standing up like nothing happened. 

“hey!”

“change, smelly.” you joked, grabbing a pair of his pyjama pants and a clean t shirt and throwing it at him. 

“but i don’t want to go to the bathroom to change. i’m tired.” he whined. 

“you don’t have to. i won’t look. i have to change, too.” you replied, lifting your shirt over your head. you knew mark’s eyes were on you, but you didn’t mind it. he was going to see it sooner or later, right? 

“o-okay…” he muttered. you changed quicker than him, because of his sleepy, slow movements, and you were quick to jump into bed and huddle down into the blankets. 

you watched mark hop into his plaid flannel pyjama pants and sit back down on the edge of the bed. 

“do you mind if i sleep shirtless?” he chuckled, balling up his dirty t shirt and throwing it so it landed on his bag. 

“i don’t mind.” you said, watching as he lid down beside you. maybe it was your hazy state of mind, but you thought he was so handsome in the dim light. you couldn’t stop yourself from gazing at his lips. you wondered if mark lee had ever kissed a girl. you wondered if mark lee ever thought about kissing you, like you thought about kissing him. 

“kiss me, mark.” you whispered as he filled the gap between your bodies. it felt like your whole being was on fire as mark’s lips landed on yours. maybe it was because of him being your soulmate, but kissing him felt more right than anything else. 

that night you fell asleep in mark’s arms, your mind dancing with visions of him.

mark always slept later than you, so it was no surprise that he was just waking up as you came into the room after your shower the next morning. 

“morning.” he murmured, his voice raspy from just waking up. 

“good morning.” you smiled, the memories of the night before being stuck in your mind since your eyes had opened earlier. you wondered if he remembered the kiss you had shared in your drunken state. you decided you wouldn’t mention it. 

“hey, um, quick question…” he spoke up, running a hand through his messy, jet black hair. 

“yeah?” you glanced over at him. 

“about last night…” you felt yourself blush, “did we, um–y’know?” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. you hesitated, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“uh, yeah. we did.” 

his silence reminded you of the night you met him, how awkwardly silent it was when you told him you were soulmates. 

“did we at least, how do i word this…use protection…?” 

your eyes widened. “no, we didn't have sex!” you laughed. 

“o-oh! good. yeah, good.” he chuckled, embarrassment staining his cheeks.

“we just kissed, that’s all. just once.”

“okay, i can live with that.” he let out a short laugh, turning his attention to the sudden knock that came at the door. johnny poked his head in the doorway, a smirk on his face. 

“good morning lovebirds.” he teased, raising his eyebrows. “how did you sleep? or was there any sleeping going on?” 

“go away, johnny!” mark whined, like a child would to his older brother. you just laughed at their banter. 

“okay, my bad. are you joining me for breakfast?” he asked, looking from mark to you. 

“yeah, i'll help, actually.” you smiled, glancing at mark. “you, get a shower first.”

 mark insisted on hitting the road again, so within a few hours, you were taking a specific route to the mountains. you were feeling good, you had heard johnny mutter “she’s a keeper” after you helped him make breakfast and clean up. 

mark had offered to drive, and apparently he knew of a camping spot where you would be able to see the mountains, where he used to go with his family. you sat in the passenger seat and held jellybean in your lap, petting the creature lovingly. 

“and to think you didn’t like cats just a week ago.” mark said, smiling at the way you and jellybean had grown a liking for each other. the most important girls in his life, he thought. 

“to think it’s only been a week,” you looked at him. “it feels like it’s been an eternity with your annoying ass.” 

“hey!” he exclaimed, “you’re lucky i’m putting up with you.” 

“we both know that if you didn’t come with me, you’d probably work at that gas station and be single forever.” you said. 

“okay, okay, kind of hurtful, but you’re right.” he shook his head with a grin plastered on his face. “i’m happy we found each other.” 

you felt your heart swell at his words. 

when you finally got to your rented camping spot, you sat on the edge of the van with the back door open, admiring the view out over the mountains. it was breaktaking, a once in a lifetime view. 

while you were admiring nature’s beauty, mark was having a very difficult time starting a fire. you watched as he crouched next to the makeshift fire pit that was left by the last campers, trying his hardest to start it with just a lighter and a few pieces of wood. 

“need some help?” you called out. looking over your shoulder at him.

“no, i got it!” 

you hopped down from the van and made your way over, observing his attempts. “you need paper. and some dry wood.”

“well i don’t have paper or dry wood.” he muttered with a sigh in a defensive tone. you could tell he wanted to impress you with his skills, and was frustrated that he couldn’t get it. you opened the drivers side door of the van and leaned over to the glove box, pulling out a handful of old newspapers. paper was always good to have on hand, and for this reason. you walked back over to the boy and passed them to him over his shoulder. he mumbled a thank you and went back to trying to light a fire. 

you crouched down and put your arms around his slumped shoulders, placing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “you’re cute, you know?” 

mark gulped and you noticed how he got red, but kept his eyes focused on what he was doing. he wouldn’t admit it this early, but mark lee was starting to catch feelings for you. and he knew he was in too deep already. 

that night after you ate leftover pizza from lunch and talked around the fire, you settled in the van for the night. you kept the back door open, watching how the sky painted itself numerous shades of oranges and yellows as the sun set. mark hummed a soft tune and you were reminded of your matching soulmate tattoos. a music note because you were both music lovers. well, you were, you weren’t sure if mark was. 

“hey,” you spoke into the comfortable silence, turning your head to look at him lying next to you. “do you play any instruments?” 

“i play the guitar.” he replied in an instant. 

“really?” you smiled, your eyes widening. “me too.” 

“i guess god made us soulmates for that reason.” he laughed, putting down his phone to focus his attention on you. 

“god?” you raised an eyebrow. you were never really a believer of anything like that. 

“yeah. i don’t know, i believe in god and that he made everyone for a certain reason…” he chuckled, almost like he was embarrassed in his beliefs. “makes life feel important i guess…”

“don’t be embarrassed. i respect it.” you assured. “maybe it’s just because i’m a nihilist and i grew up thinking like it, but i think everything is meaningless.” 

“you’re kidding. you don’t think everything and everyone has a purpose?”

“not really. why would it be important if we’re all just going to die anyway?”

he fell silent. had you scared him or made him think you were a total weirdo? 

“then i have a new goal.” he smiled smugly. “to make you believe that life is meaningful.”

you laughed. “good luck, marky.” you shook your head and sat up, remembering what sparked the conversation. you quickly hopped out of the van and grabbed the case that was underneath the palette your mattress was set on. you sat next to him again, placing the case in his hands. 

“play for me.”

“oh.” he opened the clasps and gently took out the old acoustic, strumming the strings a few times. “i don’t know…what should i play?”

“think of me and play something based on your thoughts.” you challenged, leaning forward, resting your head on your fist, watching him intently. 

“oh gosh,” he laughed, plucking a soft tune. “do you know the song slow it down?”

you didn’t, but you were curious to see what made him think of you. 

he started singing, and even though he was a little rusty at first, his voice was beautiful. it was ragged and raspy, all while being delicate. to you, his voice sounded like hope. hope for a new beginning. hope for a better future. hope for all your days to be spent with him.

was this what it felt like to fall in love the right way?

you didn't even know what you were yelling for anymore. the conversation had started in a civil way, talking about what the future held for you and mark. if you were being honest, you were terrified. you didn't know what you were doing or where you were going, and money was becoming an issue. money was at the base of your fight with mark.

“you're not even listening to me!” you huffed, your eyes trying to stay focused on the dark road ahead, your windshield wipers slapping furiously against the harsh rain. 

“it's hard to listen to you when everything you're saying is bullshit!” mark fired back, throwing his hands up in frustration. 

“what do you mean?” you whipped your head over, glaring through him.

“we can't just keep driving around in your van, like the world doesn't exist! we need money, we need jobs and a place to live! you have your fucking head in the clouds, y/n!” he raised his voice. you knew you needed to pull over soon, as you wouldn't be able to see the road through your rage. 

“you’re an asshole.” you mumbled. 

“what did you say?”

“i said you’re a fucking asshole!” you shook your head and pulled into the parking lot of a gas station, coming to an abrupt stop. 

“well you're a bitch.” mark clenched his jaw and quickly got out, slamming the door so hard that the van shook. 

you were never one to apologize first, and all you could see was red. you were sure you hated him in that moment. maybe you should've just stayed with yukhei and kept living a lie.

when he didn't get back in the van, you opened your door and got out, looking at him with the vehicle between you. 

“what?” he spit, his eyes like daggers. 

“are you going to apologize?”

“for what? i didn't do anything wrong, y/n.” he leaned an arm on the roof and avoided your gaze. 

“for starting this fucking argument?!”

“god must've made a mistake when he made us soulmates. i don't think i could ever get along with you well enough to actually love you.” 

unlovable. it wasn't the first time that term had been used to describe you. you tried to keep up your facade of being angry and careless, but his comment had stabbed you right in the heart. 

“maybe i should just leave you here, huh?” you challenged, hoping he'd come to his senses.

“fine!” he shrugged, stepping away from the van. he swung back the side door and grabbed his bag and jellybean, before slamming it and proceeding to walk away. 

he was actually leaving. well, you could too.

you tried not to glance back at him in your mirror as you drove out of the parking lot and back onto the highway. your anger was all that you could think about, you weren't being rational. 

you drove and drove, tears streaming down your face, tears you didn't even realize had collected in your eyes. sometimes, mark felt like a boy you could love. then, other times, he felt like a total fucking stranger. it felt like the night you left yukhei all over again. even though it was only a little over two weeks before, it felt like an eternity with mark.

mark. what was he doing right now? was he already calling someone to pick him up? was he cursing your name and wishing you crashed? was he regretting what he said? because you were. 

you finally had to pull over on the side of the highway, leaning your arms and head on the steering wheel, breaking down in sobs. mark was your soulmate, the only person in the world you were meant to be with, and you had ruined it. your stupid pride had ruined it. was it too late to go back? 

you drove and drove, back to the gas station. you weren't letting him go that easily. your shoulders shuddered with another sob when you saw him leaned against the brick wall outside, soaked with rain, trying to keep jellybean warm in his jacket. your heart ached. you were the shittiest person alive, you were sure. 

mark watched with wide eyes as your van arrived in front of him. you got out quickly, before going right up to him. he was confused. he thought he had screwed everything up and that you were gone forever. 

it took all your courage and pride to walk up to him, but once you were there, your hands shaking, you felt like breaking down all over again. you hugged him tightly, burying your face in the crook of his neck, your warm tears heating up his skin. 

“i’m sorry.” you mumbled, your voice cracking with emotion. mark wrapped his arms around you, and you could tell by his sniffles that he had been crying too.

“me too.” he whispered, tightening his grip on you, like you'd disappear soon. 

“i like you so much, mark, and i don't want to ruin this.” you sighed, your voice weak and muffled.

“i shouldn't have said anything that i said. i was really afraid for a moment.” 

you stayed silent, not wanting to cry even more. mark swayed you gently in his arms, so thankful you came back for him. he couldn't lose you. not now, not after everything. 

 when you pulled your face away from him, you looked away subconsciously, not wanting him to see you in such an unruly state. but he put a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. you became insecure, wondering what you looked like in the eyes of your soulmate. you were brought back to his eyes, the first feature of his that you fell in love with. 

he kissed you with reckless abandon, his hands cupping each side of your face, his warmth spreading through your whole body. you couldn't get enough of him. 

“i love you.” he muttered in between kisses. the whole world went silent. 

“i love you too.” there went your heart again, speaking for you. from the beginning, you knew it would be impossible to be just friends with mark lee. you couldn't help but crack a smile when your eyes fluttered open and met his. 

“you do?” he grinned.

“of course i do.” you said, your voice almost disappearing with the rain. 

“i love you.” he repeated, kissing you again. “i love you, i love you, i love you.” 

“say it too much and it loses meaning.” you teased, noticing the rain dripping onto his forehead. 

“you believe that?” he chuckled.

“i believe–” 

“stop loitering on my property, you damn kids!” a voice called out from the doorway. 

“oh shit.” you giggled, grabbing mark’s arm and running towards the van. when you came to a stop, he caged your body between his and the side of the van, dipping down to kiss you again. 

“i love you.” 

“i love you, mark lee.”

you couldn't sleep. you were grateful to be sleeping on a couch for the night instead of in the van, but as you stared at the ceiling of mark’s bestfriends basement, sleep just wouldn't hit you. mark was sleeping on the couch in the living room upstairs, as donghyuck still lived with his parents. you didn't mind the couch though, it was quite comfy. 

you liked donghyuck, and you were pretty sure he liked you too. he seemed like a sarcastic asshole at first, but once him and mark got to talking, you saw how kind and cute he could be. the way mark lit up like a christmas tree when he saw donghyuck proved how close they were as friends. he said they had been bestfriend’s since they were twelve, and it showed in the way they bickered with each other in a heartfelt way. 

you couldn't remember when you entered dreamland, but you woke up in the middle of the night to your arm falling off the couch and your fingers messily tangled with someone else’s. you thought your tired eyes were playing tricks on you when you peered over the edge and saw mark lying on the floor next to the couch, his eyes closed, his chest moving up and down slowly, and his fingers holding onto yours. 

you didn't even think to question why he was there at first, as you were too drawn into the way he looked so peaceful while sleeping. his eyelashes lightly brushed against his skin while his eyes were closed, and his lips were parted ever so slightly. his skin seemed to glow even in the dark. 

“mark, what are you doing?” you questioned in a quiet voice, once it hit you that he was sleeping on the floor, after all. his eyes fluttered open, him being the ever so light sleeper. he smiled softly almost immediately. 

“just couldn't sleep…i guess i'm used to you being next to me now.” he chuckled sleepily, his voice raspy and rough. he glanced at your hands and back up at you. “i needed to be next to you.” 

you were thankful it was dark, because you felt yourself blush with his words. knowing you both couldn't fit on the couch, you came up with a quick plan. 

“here,” you said, getting off the couch and grabbing a few cushions.

“what are you doing?” mark questioned, propping himself up on his elbows. 

“shhh,” you hushed him, laying down the couch cushions on the floor and motioning for him to move onto them. he complied, and you took a blanket donghyuck had supplied you with, and draped it over his body. then, you took the other one and lay down next to him on the cushions, covering yourself as well with the warm blanket. 

“there.” you sighed with an air of contentedness as you faced him. it was a tight squeeze, and not the most comfortable of arrangements, but it was perfect in the moment. 

“this is perfect.” mark uttered, his thoughts matching yours. “well, not perfect, but you get what i mean.” 

you inched closer to him until mark put his arm around you and closed the gap between your bodies. 

“okay, let’s get some sleep now.” he murmured, closing his eyes. “i love you.” ever since the night he first confessed it, mark couldn't stop telling you that he loved you. the first night he told you, you had said it back, but you weren't sure if you meant it. you were full of emotions from your fight and it just felt like the right thing to say to him, maybe to comfort him. 

but as you lay in the dark on the small, uncomfortable, makeshift bed, with his protective arms around you and his heartbeat beating in your ears, you were sure you loved him. and you were sure that love was the only thing you ever wanted to feel.

the dim lights in the bar made mark look even more handsome, a gentle shadow cascading down his nose and smile as he sat across from you. 

“ten bucks says you can’t get someone to buy you a drink.” he smirked, challenging you.

“alright. ten bucks is ten bucks.” you laughed, leaning forward.

“seriously?”

“you know what you can get with ten bucks? lots of things, mark.” you were about to get out of your seat, taking him up on his offer. he grabbed your hand and urged you to stay.

“okay, okay. the thing is, i know you can get any of these guys to buy you a drink,” he chuckled, a hint of jealousy in his voice. he clasped his hand over yours on the table and smiled at you. “i’d rather buy my girl a drink than any of these pervs.”

you felt your cheeks heat up at what he had called you. you opened your mouth to hush him jokingly, but then your eyes caught something in the distance. not something, someone. what was he doing there? you tried your best to keep your head down without mark noticing that you were making yourself smaller, but then his eyes locked with yours. you felt your stomach plummet to the soles of your feet. and then he was walking over. you couldn’t just up and flee, not with him that close and not without telling mark. please, pass by the table, you prayed. but you weren’t so lucky. 

“hey, how are you?” he smiled, a hint of passive aggressiveness in his voice as he set his hands on the table and leaned down. his eyes wandered to mark, who’s eyes were stuck on you with a look that said ‘who is this?’ 

you cleared your throat, not realizing how dry your mouth had become, before gathering sudden courage to speak to him. “i’m- i’m great, how’re you?” 

“good, good…” he muttered, glancing at mark again before looking back at you. 

“oh! mark, this is yukhei,” you smiled forcibly, hoping he remembered the name. his eyebrows raised in realization. “yukhei, this is mark...my soulmate.” you inhaled sharply. you noticed mark’s grip tighten on your hand. he was definitely getting protective, and you didn’t know how this scene would play out.

“nice to meet you, man.” mark nodded, offering his other hand to yukhei. he shook it hesitantly, but didn’t say anything back. you could read him like a book too, and you knew by the look in his eyes that he was jealous. please stay civil, you thought.

“i’m glad you met your real soulmate. must feel nice, right?” he retorted, casting his gaze down at you. 

“what are you even doing here?” you sighed, trying to keep the peace. 

“just doing the same as you are. trying to find my soulmate, but it’s kind of hard considering i’ve already met her and now she could be anywhere–”

“don’t do this here, yuk.” you warned, your voice low and your cheeks now darkening in embarrassment. 

“no, i think he deserves to know what you did to me. how you led me on and lied to me for a whole year. was it all some sort of game to you?” he spit out.

“you’re causing a scene.” you whispered, looking around at the glances and glares you were getting because of yukhei’s temper. you could tell that mark wanted to speak up and say something, but you weren’t letting that happen. that would be like adding fuel to the fire. 

“you broke my heart, y/n!” he declared. with that, mark stood up and your eyes widened. 

“come on, we’re going.” he muttered, his gentle eyes meeting yours. even in the situation you were in, you found comfort in his eyes. you got up, trying to ignore yukhei. mark was quick to ease your jacket over your shoulders and put his hand on the small of your back to lead you out of the bar, glaring daggers at yukhei the whole time. 

once you were in the passenger seat of the van, you felt like breaking down all over again. you felt terrible for what you did to yukhei. but you loved him. you really, truly loved him. but that was the past. 

“hey,” mark spoke softly, placing a gentle hand on your thigh. you snapped out of your thoughts and looked over, the moonlight casting shadows on his face. “you okay?”

“i’m okay.” you sighed, looking down again. your eyes fixating on his thumb rubbing tiny patterns into your jeans in an attempt to comfort you. 

“y/n. talk to me, please.” 

“i’m not a bad person, mark.” you said in a timid voice.

“i know you’re not.”

“but i feel bad.” you admitted. “i feel like the shittiest person alive. i broke his heart. i didn’t deserve him.” 

you were both silent for a moment as you collected your thoughts. 

“and i definitely don’t deserve you.” you uttered out, leaning your head back on the seat and staring at the ceiling of the van. 

“don’t say that.” mark said. “you have been so amazing to me. i didn’t even know this feeling existed,” he stopped to chuckle, “we found each other when we needed each other the most, y/n. we deserve each other.”

 you cast your eyes on him once again, a feeling of contentment settling over your heart. now that you thought about it, what you felt for your past lover was nothing compared to what you felt for mark. soulmate love was a different kind of love. it was an everything and anything kind of love, a sacrifice kind of love, a commitment kind of love. you could see it in the way mark always offered you the last of his french fries, the way he talked to you in a calm voice when you wanted to curl up and die, the way he offered to drive when he knew you were tired, the way he always gave you more of the blankets, the way he left his whole life for you and dove into your relationship with no cares in the world. you knew he was the only one who would ever love you like that. and you were damned if you ever let him go. 

an hour later as mark drove down the highway humming a soft tune, he was thinking all the same things. he smiled when he glanced over at you asleep against his arm, your hands wrapped around his. he was sad that he could only admire your peaceful face for seconds at a time before turning his attention back to the road, but his thoughts stayed on you. he loved you more than he had ever loved anything else before, he was sure of it. and he’d be damned if he ever let you go.

you rolled up your map and shoved it in the glove box before sitting back down on the mattress. you were more relaxed now that you and mark had done a little bit of planning for what lay ahead. you had picked a quiet, cozy town to settle down in, and mark had already looked into an apartment. it was a small, one-bedroom apartment, but it was away from any noise and had mostly elderly neighbours. you both were looking at jobs to get you back on your feet and to earn a little more money than your combined savings, which were running out. you were ecstatic to start your new life with mark, and you could tell he felt the same.

“wanna hit the hay?” mark questioned, closing the back door and putting jellybean on the bed.

“yeah, i’m a bit tired.” you nodded, pulling his sweater over your head to provide a little warmth, although you knew he would be soon enough. you smoothed down your messy hair and took jellybean into your arms. you hated mark’s cat at first, but you got used to her in no time. 

“you’re so pretty, y/n.” mark uttered, his eyes stuck on you, his lips slightly apart. you understood his bluntness when he was drunk, but it was weird for him to be this straightforward. 

“you’re prettier.” you smiled, continuing to pet the ball of fur in your arms that was meowing at you. mark just laughed and moved next to you, his gaze focused like a child. he lay down and brought his hand up to your shoulder, nudging you to join him. 

once you were comfortably situated in bed, you found it hard to stay awake. you watched as mark cooed at jellybean, and felt your eyelids get heavy. you let your eyes flutter closed, but opened them suddenly when mark’s hand touched your cheek. 

“hmm?” you hummed, raising your eyebrows and soaking in his warmth. 

“stay awake for a little while longer. i wanna talk.” he said softly, like you were a delicate thing in front of him. 

“about what?” you questioned, nestling closer to him. 

“that night that we fought, what did you feel?”

“huh?”

“what went through your head? what were your emotions?” he pressed.

“...i don’t know. a lot, i guess? i was angry at you. but i was mostly just sad.”

“why?”

“are you just being cocky, mark lee?” you chuckled.

“no, just–why were you sad?”

you sighed. “because you mean a lot to me and i didn’t want to lose you?”

he smiled, like he was satisfied with your answer. “i mean something to you?”

you shoved his shoulder in a playful manner while rolling your eyes. “of course you do, you know this.”

“i know, i know, but the word. mean, meaning. meaningful. at least one thing in your life means something to you.”

“okay?” you laughed, leaning on your hand and shaking your head. 

“and–and when we first met, you never wore your seatbelt.” he stated like it was a fact.

“and…?”

“and now you always wear it.”

“because you nagged me so much to wear it.” you chuckled, remembering how he used to say ‘seatbelt!’ before allowing you to drive.

“that just shows that you don’t want to die if we get into an accident. you care more about your life and safety now.” 

“that shows nothing.”

“and that one night when we were tipsy in the back of johnny’s car and singing at the top of our lungs, you looked so happy.”

“because i was.” you said, your insides warming up while remembering how alive you felt in that moment.

“you know what all of this means, y/n?”

“what does it mean, mark?” you replied, going along with it. 

“it means you’re starting to believe in meaning. you’re starting to believe that life is meaningful.” he smiled, running his hand through your hair gently. 

despite how much you’d argue against it, he was right. mark had opened your eyes to how precious life was.

“hey, can i try something?” mark spoke into the darkness a few nights later. you were still awake, worries filling your head as usual, but you thought mark had fallen asleep. you could tell there was a lot on his mind that night, too. 

you looked at him and raised your eyebrows. “what is it?” 

“um, you need to take off your shirt–or, uh–” he was a mess when he was embarrassed, “i just need to see your tattoo.” 

“oh,” you replied to his odd request. you hadn't given your matching tattoos much thought, also they were what made you soulmates in the first place. “sure.” 

you sat up a bit straighter and leaned against your pillow before pulling your sweater over your head, leaving you in only a thin tank top. you didn't feel insecure around mark. you glanced down at the eighth note magically inked into your skin. 

you watched mark look at his tattoo in his left palm and then at yours again. ever so gently, like you were glass that would break under his touch, he pressed his palm to your chest. you remembered that he tried to do it the night you met, but you had retracted from his touch. 

your body felt like it was full of electricity, his fingertips grazing the skin that had been barely touched by anyone else, the warmth of his palm seeping into you. his sparkling doe eyes met yours, and your stomach leapt with a feeling you couldn't describe. 

“i wanted to do that since i met you. i don't know, guess it was just a temptation.” he shrugged, pulling his hand back to his body, his eyes staying glued to yours. slowly, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to you, placing a soft kiss to his lips. then another, and another. until all you could feel was the shape of mark’s lips on yours. until that's all you ever wanted to feel. and then his lips on your cheek and jaw and neck and collarbone and chest. everywhere all at once. your body and mind on fire. when you closed your eyes, all you could see was mark. all you could feel was mark. you were his, and he was yours.

you watched as the sun lit up the sky a million hues of pink and orange in the morning. your heart soared with excitement as today was the day you'd move into your new apartment with mark. you had gotten up at the crack of dawn to get on the road, and the sunrise was a major bonus. you were unfamiliar with your surroundings, especially the road, but your gps had your back surely. 

mark turned the radio to a station playing rock music, the upbeat tune matching his mood. when he was sure you weren't looking, he felt around in his pocket. the tiny, felt box was still there. phew. he had snuck into a jewelry store when you were shopping a few days before, and bought the ring. he was sure of this. he didn't know when he would propose, but he knew he wanted to. the sooner you were his forever, the better. 

it was a silent drive, both of you thinking about your journey together and now, your future together. your mind couldn't help but wander while you were driving. mark meant so much to you. a mere month and a half before, mark had just been the boy at the gas station who seemed to understand your broken heart. 

now, he had made you believe in what you hadn't believed in in a very long time. life. happiness. love. meaning. mark had brought the most meaning into your shitty life. he was your happy pill. your sunshine. the love of your life. you glanced over at him, taking in everything about him. you were so happy to finally be at peace with yourself, with the help of mark. you wanted to thank him for being so good to you, for making everything shine with meaning. 

maybe you should've studied the maps more, kept your eyes on the road. because you didn't see the transport truck going over the speed limit that had skipped a stop sign. you didn't even feel it. you didn't feel anything.

#mark lee #soulmates au #mark #mark nct #fanfiction #mark nct 127 #mark superm #nct fanfiction #fanfic #mark fanfiction #mark fanfic #superm fanfic #nct angst #nct au #nct soulmates au #nct dream #nct fluff #mark fluff #mark angst #mark lee angst #mark lee fluff #superm fluff #mark lee smut #nct smut #superm smut #sorry for so many tags oops

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Non Grata

Sequel to Getaway Homecoming

Warnings: noncon sex (oral and intercourse), angst. This is dark!(nomad)Steve and explicit. 18+ only. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.

Summary: The reader finds herself lost after Steve’s second visit.

Note: Do you like to hate Steve Rogers? Does him being an absolute dick make you hard? Well this is the series for you! Here’s another of a brutal nomad Steve and a desperate reader who just wants him the fuck the fuck off!

Anyways, hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think as always. Love ya <3

-

Steve left just as he had the first time. You were broken on the bed; your legs bent over the edge, an ache through your entire body, the remnants of his assault dripping down your thighs. The sweat cooled along your skin as you sank into an exhausted stupor. The shadows of the room loomed around you and a sharp hiss cut through the air. Your heart beat was distant, low. It filled your head like a drum. Your ears burned as the hiss grew to a snarl and your name roused you from your haze.

You turned your head to look at Ethan. He was as he had been for the last hours; bound to the chair to witness your debasement. You cringed and pushed yourself up on shaky arms. “Goddamnit, would you untie me?” He barked. The tone of his voice hurt more than your body. The bruises left by unyielding fingers and the welts around your neck from the twisted cotton.

You stood and crossed to the chair. Your fingers were unsteady as you worked at the tape. You tore it away from his ankles and wrists. You gulped as you gathered your voice. “Ethan…”

“Don’t,” He stood and brushed by you. “I...gotta get ready for work.” He didn’t look at the bed. Or you. He went to the closet and slid the door open. He pulled out a pair of grey pants and a navy button-up. “You should clean yourself up.” His tone made your heart clench. He was so unkind; angry even. At you? For what had been done to you.

“Please--”

“I don’t wanna talk.” He kept his back to you as he neared the door. “About it. About anything.”

You felt as if you had been punched. You clutched your sweaty hair as your eyes burned. You stared at the door until your stomach bubbled with bile. You dropped your arms and held back a sob. You dragged your feet to the bathroom door and braced yourself against the frame with one hand. You could feel Steve still; inside of you, outside. Your body was covered in his scent. His cum sticky along your thighs.

You closed the door as you stepped inside. You cranked the shower and waited for the steam to rise before you slipped past the curtain. The water was not hot enough to cleanse you. You could hear Ethan in the living room. Your tears melded with the water as you reached out to hold yourself steady against the tile. You listened to his soft footsteps until at last the door opened and closed. He was gone.

You scrubbed every inch of flesh. Every nook and cranny until you were on fire. Your muscles strained as you turned off the water and wrapped yourself in the soft terry towel. Your legs felt weak beneath you. You stripped the bed of the sheet; streaks of cum across the grey cotton. You bunched them up and shoved it in a garbage bag. 

You dressed stiffly. Ritualistically. You didn’t eat, didn’t even brew a coffee. You grabbed the bag and tossed it in the dumpster on your way to work. At least that would be the same. The same old desk; the same phone; the same monotone co-workers. 

-

When you got home, the apartment was eerily silent. It would be an hour before Ethan returned. You weren’t sure if he would. That thought made you want to vomit. You paced around the living room until the lock clicked and you stopped in your tracks as Ethan entered. His shoulders were stiff, his jaw set, his eyes grim. He looked at you for a split second but quickly glanced away. Was it shame? Disgust? Hatred?

He placed his bag beside the door as he always did. He sighed as he crossed the threshold between entrance and living room. His hand settled on the arm of the couch, fingers tapped in rhythm with unspoken thoughts. His eyes had turned to stone. At last he found the strength to look at you. You clasped your hands together as your nerves flurried. The tension was suffocating.

“Do you want the apartment?” He asked finally. You blinked and your cheek twitched. “Because I can’t stay in this place.”

“Wha--I…” You were breathless. You felt as if you were floating and feared you’d come crashing down. “Ethan, you--”

“What am I supposed to do? I can’t stay here, with you, after that,” He shook his head and looked away once more. He crossed his arms and leaned against the couch.

“You’re just going to leave me?” You voice cracked with the last syllable. He stayed silent and hung his head. “What do think that was, Ethan? Do you think I wanted that?”

“I think it looked like you enjoyed yourself, regardless of what you wanted,” He glared at you as he lifted his head. “Why didn’t you tell me before? About the cabin?”

“Would you believe me? Oh, you’d never guess, I was just up in the middle of nowhere and Captain America came out of the wildlands to ravage me. Very believable.”

“I--To think you let me touch you after he did,” Ethan spat as he stood straight.

You inhaled and stared him down. The silence wrapped around your throat. “I don’t want the apartment.” You muttered, “I only ever wanted you, but I would never force my presence on you.” A sickening heat crept up your spine. “I’ll stay with Gia until I find a place. I’ll have my stuff out by the end of the month.”

Ethan’s shoulders dropped. “Is that it? You’re not going to fight?”

“What’s the point? You’ve made up your mind and I’ve already lost everything.” You lowered your lashes before the tears could spill. “I never wanted to say goodbye but I never imagined it would be like this.”

You bit your lip in the lull that followed. Ethan cleared his throat and you heard his footfalls across the hardwood. “I’ll give notice to the landlord.” You glanced over at his shoes as he stood by the bedroom door. “You can take whatever you want.”

He disappeared through the door and your throat constricted. You shook as you turned and looked to the balcony door. It was still unlocked from the night before. You neared and slowly pulled it open. On the other side, your bikini top hung from the knob. You didn’t recall him taking it but you also couldn’t remember finding it in your luggage. Another detail lost to the oblivion of your mind.

You untangled the strap from the handle and felt an unusual shape against the pad. You felt along the cup and slipped your fingers through the small slit sewn in to remove the padding. You gripped the thin plastic and removed it with a fumble. You held up the card you hadn’t noticed was missing. The one you had cracked several years ago and was often forgotten in the back of your wallet. Your name and social security number faded across the plastic.

You turned it over and it fell from your grip with a gasp. Just below the black strip were letters written in slanted sharpie. You knelt to read it again; certain you were imagining it. But staring back at you was the very clear message; a promise. I’ll find you.

-

Gia’s apartment was almost too small for the both of you. She helped you inflate the air mattress with the manual pump in the living room as she tried to disguise her curiosity with none-so-subtle questions. You hadn’t told her much. You and Ethan had chosen to go your separate ways. The relationship had lost its lustre. The usual cliched bullshit recited to conceal your heartbreak. Even so, you could tell she wanted to know more. She was ever the sucker for gossip; even if it was another’s pain.

She put on beauty tutorials and ordered take out. You ate as you pretended to listen to the brow shaping tips. You didn’t taste the fried rice or the sweet and sour chicken. When at last she retreated to her room, you laid across the mattress and sank into the darkness. You couldn’t sleep as your heart began to hammer. What if he found you here? What would he do to Gia? You were so stupid. Why had you come here?

When the sun rose, you were already awake. You had moved to the couch and jumped at every noise. Gia was on afternoons that day so she wouldn’t be up for some time. You made a coffee, drank it in the early morning din, and forced down a bowl of instant oats. You dressed, grabbed your purse, and set out for the bus stop. You’d be on a different route now that you were with Gia.

It was like any other day at work. You were almost late as the bus took a little longer and you rushed in without time for your usual ten minute pre-work laze. You opened up your emails and began to file through those until the first call of the day came in. You typed blindly and went through the usual spiel. Knocking off the checkboxes as you scrolled. The mind-numbing work was a relief from your now terrifying life.

Your third call of the day and you were yawning into you hand. You lifted the receiver and leaned back in your chair. “Gem Vacations, how can I help you?”

“You sound tired,” The deep voice had you stalk straight in your seat.

“Excuse me?” You glanced around at the desks around you. Your co-workers unaware as they typed and chattered in their customer service voices.

“Come on, you know who this is,” He taunted and you gripped the edge of your desk.

“What do you want?” You lowered your voice as you hid behind your screen. “I’m at work.”

“Just checking in. How’s Ethan coping?” You didn’t answer and he chuckled. “Ah, I figured as much. Weak little boy.” He was nonchalant; cloying. “I was only trying to help him. Show him how it’s done, ya know?”

“Why are you doing this?” You rasped as you tried not to tremble.

“I’ve always been told that everything happens for a reason. I never took it as more than an empty cliche.” You could hear his smirk. “But I figured I found you up there for a reason. All alone...what were the odds? It had to be for something, right?”

“No,” You answered evenly.

“So, where are you staying now that Ethan’s tucked his tail and run?” Again, you stayed silent. “Ah, don’t worry, I’ll figure it out. Maybe...your sister’s? She seems like a nice girl. You’re pretty close, so it’s only natural--”

“Leave her out of this,” You struggled not to raise your voice. “This has nothing to do with her.”

“No, it’s all about you, girl,” He snarled. “So, let’s not make it about anyone else by doing anything stupid. Understood?”

Your blood went cold and you leaned your chin in your hand as you tried not to scream. “Please, just leave me alone.” You slammed the receiver down harder than you meant to and stood. You rushed to the bathroom and locked yourself in as your ears rang. You felt a buzz in your pocket and pulled out your cell phone. Private Caller. You answered, knowing who it was already.

“Now, now, we don’t do that, okay?” Steve warned from the other end. “Because that was stupid.” You swallowed as you stared at the painting of roses hung over the toilet. “Answer me.”

“Okay, okay, I’m--sorry,” Your breath shattered out of you.

“Good,” He replied sharply, “So this is how it’s going to go. I’m out of town at the moment. Business, you see? But I’ll be back soon. So, if you want me to leave Gia alone, you’ll keep me distracted, won’t you?”

“Yes,” You answered through gritted teeth.

“That’s ‘yes, Captain’,” He corrected, “With a little less attitude, girl.”

“Yes, Captain,” You softened your tone as you leaned against the door weakly.

“Good girl,” He preened from the speaker, “Now, go on and get back to work.”

The line died and you slowly lowered your phone. You tucked it into your pocket and neared the sink. You stared at yourself in the mirror; your eyes heavy with sleep, your shoulders slumped in defeat. Now, you had lost everything.

-

A few days into your stay on Gia’s floor and you finally found the time to visit the grocery store. You had cleaned out her cupboards and take out was growing pricey. You had a list, a budget, and a focus. Get everything you needed and get out. Life had become a series of tasks. Concentrate on this, then this, then this. You looked for any distraction to keep your fear from bubbling past your stomach. When you did have a chance to think, you were ready to vomit. 

Steve said he would be back soon. When was soon? Despite your efforts, these intrusive thoughts poked through. The dread. The presence that followed you around. From your air mattress to the bus seat to your office chair. The shadow loomed over you like the hawk over the field mouse. That was exactly what you felt like. A helpless critter to Steve. A repulsive rodent to Ethan.

The rush of people with their carts and baskets helped ease you. When you were around crowds, you felt safer. Before it had been the opposite. He was gone. Don’t think about it. Cereal. That was next. Did you want the granola with protein or the sugary childhood indulgence? You pondered the decision as if it were life changing. Every minute felt like your last.

You sighed and dug your heel into the floor. You weren’t a child anymore. Naivety was long gone. You reached for the organic oats. The box was swiped from your grasp before you fingers could grasp it and you followed the thick hand up the muscles arm to its owner. Your lips parted and you stepped back instinctively. You glanced behind you, Gia still at the other end of the aisle. She was focused on finding the right blend of coffee beans. She always used the in store grinder and...it was a whole process.

You turned back and tried to grab another box of cereal. Steve caught your hand and pushed it back down. You kept your eyes away from him and bit down on your anger. “What’s the matter? You don’t seem the impatient type.” Your eyes flitted over to him and your nostrils flared. “I tried to be quick but...shit never goes as planned.”

Your irritation quickly dissipated to fear. The fact that he was truly there was much more startling than your nightmares. Than the anxiety which had strung together his absence. You peeked over your shoulder at Gia and heard the granola shake in its cardboard shell. You turned back as Steve shook the box as if for a pet.

“Ask nicely and I’ll give it back,” You realized he was toying with you. “Might even leave before she notices me.”

“Please,” You tried to keep calm as you stared up at him. You were still utterly confused by the man. The last you had heard of him he had been the valiant American patriot turned stubborn refugee. Now he was your own personal nightmare. “May I have the cereal?”

He smirked and held it out to you. He watched as you took it and his eyes darkened. They slipped down and he licked his lips as he stared at the collar of your shirt. “Midnight. Eastern Vale Hotel. Room 346.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “I’d suggest you show up on time cause I won’t wait long before I come find you…” His eyes strayed past you, “And I might just find someone else, too.”

He backed away and grabbed a box of instant oatmeal from beside him. He pretended to read the ingredients as he strolled casually down the aisle and around the corner. You squeezed the box in your hands, almost crushing it as it crumpled at the edges. You shook your head and tossed it in the cart. Gia approached with a bag of coffee; you could smell it even before she placed it in the basket of the cart.

“They have free trade beans now,” She peered into the cart. “Mmm, maple nut?”

“They have very berry. We can switch.” You offered as you leaned on the handle. You’d rather one untainted by the super soldier.

“No, not, it’s cool. I like maple.” She shrugged. “Oh! I almost forgot. We desperately need toilet paper.” 

You followed her as she marched ahead of the cart and you sighed. As you turned down the next aisle your eye caught a broad silhouette near the check out. Steve smiled as he placed the box of oatmeal on a shelf of chocolate bars and stepped over the chain that marked the counter as closed. He winked just before you disappeared down the row of paper towels and wipes.

-

Eastern Vale Hotel was far. You almost didn’t get there in time. Gia had taken her time that night, her usual procrastination as bedtime neared. Alas, she had an opening shift and you tiptoed out quietly as you her fan began to whir. You locked the door carefully behind you and rushed down to the street. You jogged to the next block and hopped in a vacant cap, numbly reciting the name of the hotel.

When you arrived, you had only a few minutes to climb the three flights to the room. You didn’t want to chance waiting for the elevator as it lagged. You counted the rooms until you reached 346 and you shivered. You raised your hand to knock but the door opened before your knuckles landed against the wood.

“Thought I heard you hiding out here,” Steve greeted. He wore nothing but a pair of jeans as the television babbled in the background. You stared past him into the room. You couldn’t bring yourself to step past the threshold as your entire being seized with dread. “Well, you gonna come in or should I just fuck you out here? Think the hotel might have a policy against that.”

You shook your head and stepped inside as he pressed himself to the door. You gulped as the lock clicked behind you and looked around the room. It was a pretty decent hotel. It was at least preferable to the Motel8. He followed close enough that you could feel his heat against you. You tried to move away from him but he caught the waist of your pants held you in place.

“Come on, let’s not play shy. Boyfriend’s gone, you’re on your sister’s couch. Really, I’m all you’ve got now. Best enjoy it while it lasts.” Your nostrils flared and you turned to slap him. He caught your hand and brought you against him. He bent your hand back until your wrist threatened to snap. “You really wanna play rough?”

Fuck. You had already messed up. He released your hand and you hissed in pain. He grabbed your neck instead and pushed you away from him. He led you back at arms length, his grasp unyielding. Your knees hit the side of the bed and you clung to his wrist as you struggled not to stumble. He released you with a light slap on your cheek.

“That’s a warning.” His fingers tugged at the vee of your shirt. “If you’re not naked in one minute, I’ll mean it next time.”

His jaw clenched and he back away with a sneer. You looked down to hide the chatter of your teeth and bent to remove your sneakers and socks. Next your pants as you blocked out the reality of his presence. You knew you couldn’t avoid it. You were here. You were trapped. This man had shown you there was no escape. Then your shirt as you stood straight, your bra and panties with resignation. You piled your clothes beside his on the couch near the end of the bed next to his.

He grabbed your upper arm and shoved you towards the bed. “Sit,” He ordered as he released you. You lowered yourself and he stood before you. He was naked. His cock was already hard. He stared down at you, his blue eyes pondered you and he stepped back. He turned and neared the small fridge just beside the television. “You think a drink would help you relax?”

You shook your head and looked down. The offer made your stomach turn. You didn’t need his meager kindness. You didn’t want to make this easier for him.

“No? Fine with me. Stuff tastes like shit to me and it doesn’t even give me a buzz.” He shrugged and neared once more. He sat beside you, his thick thigh against yours. It was even more obvious how much bigger he was than you. How much stronger he was. “You could try, I mean, we both know you enjoy yourself. You just can’t help it.”

“Fuck off,” You stiffened and made to stand.

He caught you and pulled you back down. He pushed you back against the bed, your legs bent over the side as he held you to the mattress. He leaned over you, his breath hot on your cheek, and he snarled. “You can try not to like it, but I know you will. And you can try to resist, but it’s going to happen. So, you can stay still and be a good girl or you can be a bitch and I can treat you like dog you are.” 

He tugged on your hair until your exclaimed. The tears rose in your eyes and you forced out a response. “Okay, okay, ow. Just let go.”

“Two strikes,” He released you and stood. 

He planted himself in front of you and pushed your knees apart. You closed your eyes as you let him move your legs. He gripped your thighs and you felt his weight against you as he lowered himself to kneel before you. You peeked down at him and hid your surprise. His gaze was fixed on your pussy.

He bowed his head and you squeezed your eyes shut once more. You felt his breath against you and shivered. His hands kneaded your thighs. He didn’t fail to notice the tremble. He nuzzled your little tuft of hair and you struggled not to squirm. You weren’t ready for this. You had braced yourself for his usual gruffness, but nothing so intimate. It was an act of dominance in itself. He knew you would quickly dissemble.

As his tongue met your pussy you inhaled sharply. You clawed at the blanket and bunched it in your fists. Your back arched without thinking and your toes pointed. He dragged his tongue deliberately up and down your folds. You swallowed back the moan that bubbled in your throat. Your thighs tensed and he squeezed them. He could feel the instinctual reaction of your body.

He lapped again and again. Several times before his tongue swirled around your clit. That surprised you and a squeak escaped your lips. The sound only encouraged him. He circled his tongue over and over. Suckled as your legs began to close. He pushed your thighs to the side of his head as he buried his face between your legs and you rasped through bared teeth. You couldn’t fight the surge. 

You slapped your hand over your mouth as you cried out in ecstasy. Your thighs clamped around Steve’s head and your back arched. The electricity flooded through you until you were left breathless and weak. Your legs hung over his shoulders as the after waves rolled over you. You rarely came so fast.

“I told you,” Steve taunted as he wiped his mouth. 

He grabbed your ankles and stood. You thought to turn and crawl away from him but you hear this threat echo in your head; ‘Two strikes’. A third would no doubt lead to worse. He leaned your legs against him as he stepped closer. He reached down and angled his cock against your entrance. He gave no warning as he pushed inside. You whimpered and balled your hands around the blanket at your sides. The bed shifted beneath you.

He lifted your ass from the mattress and bottomed out. You grit your teeth as his hands gripped your hips. He pulled out of you and thrust back in as hard as he could. You exclaimed at the pain. He repeated his motion and your hands latched onto his as he used your body. Your weight rested on your shoulders as you hung at an angle atop the bed. You felt the familiar bloom and swore. 

“You gonna cum?” He teased. “Hmm? I can see it.” He grunted as he rocked into you, your moans grew louder by the moment. “You just can’t handle a real man can you?” You mewled and felt the gush around his cock as you came. “There it is. Look at you. So messy.”

You growled as you tried to withhold another orgasm but were surprised by another eruption. The phone rang but Steve did not slow. He reached over and grabbed the receiver, his voice strained as he answered; his heady breaths uncensored. “Yeah?” He raised a brow at the chatter from the other end. He shrugged and sped up. “Sure, whatever.”

He hung up and snarled. He pushed you further up on the bed and shoved his knees on the mattress beside you. Your legs were bent to your chest as he raised his pelvis and slammed back into you. You cried out in double-edged pain. Despite how rough he was, it felt so delicious. He brought his hand up and clasped it over your mouth.

“They said we gotta shut up,” He rasped in your ear. His motion never wavered as he folded you beneath him. He delved even deeper than before and you came with a whine into his palm.

He hammered into you and you were certain the bed frame would collapse. You moaned against his hand; the smell of his sweat filled your nostrils. His dark blond hair hung around his head and tickled your cheek. He slowed to sharp jabs and plunged decisively to his limit as a deep grunt tensed his body. He rode out his climax as his cum burst within you.

He stilled and rested his weight atop you. He hung his head and his hand slipped from your mouth. His breath evened out, humid against your neck, and he clung to you as he suddenly rolled over. He took you with him so you were atop him and you looked down at him with dazed eyes.

“Fuck me,” He ordered. You blinked at him in confusion and he smacked your ass. “Move.”

You carefully began to rock your hips. Your sensitive clit rubbed against him and you shuddered. He kneaded your ass as you balanced yourself with hands against his chest.

“Faster,” His eyes followed the movement of your body and his hands followed. He cupped your breasts and flicked the nipples as he played with them. He squeezed them together as you followed his direction. “Faster.” He said again and his hands slipped to your waist. “That’s it.” He said as you bucked against him wildly; both in obedience and an effort to catch your budding orgasm. “You’re gonna cum already, aren’t you?”

You threw your head back and pressed your lips together to keep from crying out. Your nails dug into his flesh as you orgasmed and you eased yourself down from the crest. He sat up and hooked his arms under your legs and you clung to him to keep from falling off. He stood with you aloft, legs bent and wide as he kept you on his cock. 

He walked across the room as if you weighed nothing. You felt a cool breeze along your back and glanced over your shoulder as he neared the window. It was open just a crack, the curtains pulled back entirely. He pushed your back against the glass and you wriggled helpless in his grasp. 

“You don’t wanna draw attention to yourself, do you?” He hooked your legs around his waist as he spoke. “Better hold on.”

You hooked your legs around him as he pinned your wrists against the window. He thrust into you, resuming the same harsh pace as before. You felt the glass strain and your eyes widened. If the window broke, you were fucked. Given the force with which he was fucking you, if you didn’t hold on, you’d go flying down the next block.

“Did Ethan not fuck you good enough, huh?” The mention of his name made you blanch. Your sweaty back stuck to the window as he jolted your body against it and you surrendered. This was what you were now. Ethan was gone and you were just...this. A thing to be used. Humiliated. “ You’re so fucking tight.  Goddamn.”

He swore and bottomed out. He filled you once more with his cum and you closed your eyes as the wave of euphoria was replaced by revulsion. With him. With yourself. You shook as he let go of your wrists and you leaned against him to get away from the glass. He his hands went to your ass and he turned back to the room.

“I was thinking the couch next? Maybe the chair?” He snickered as he crossed the room. “Then we can clean up in the shower…”

-

tags to be added in reblog

#getaway #homecoming #nomad steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #nomad!steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #fic #series #au #steve rogers #dark fic #dark!fic #dark!verse #darkverse #captain america #mcu #marvel