#but the thing is they already struggle to hire for morning shifts and I know that

[wildemaven]

he makes life better | joel miller

-> pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x reader

-> word count: 1335

-> content warning: 18+ blog; bad day, annoyed with work, dealing with flat tire, joel being sweet, lots of fluff

-> note: this is for my sweet friend @gnpwdrnwhiskey hoping this brings a smile to her face 💞 this isn’t beta’d either so it’s probably filled with mistakes lol.

masterlist

Joel ❤️: How’s your day going Honey?

I’m so ready for my shift to be over. I’d rather read the dictionary, front to back, than deal with the shit they have me doing today. 

RING

“That bad, huh?” Joel’s voice brings you an instant smile when you answer his call, silently stepping away from the mess that you were dealing with at work. 

“You have no idea. It already feels like it’s been the longest week, today has just added to the shit show life keeps throwin’ at me lately. Went to leave for work this morning and I had a flat tire. Ugh! I’m sorry for complaining.” You vent to him, tucking yourself in a secluded corner. You were going against policy by taking a personal call while on the clock, but you didn’t care about company policy or the outcome of you were to get caught at the moment— Joel was your only focus right now. 

“Hey, none of that. Don’t apologize for being stressed. Why didn’t ya call me ‘bout your tire?” Joel asked. 

You know he would’ve dropped everything the minute did call him, which is also why you didn’t. He had been stressing over starting at a new job site, one of the biggest ones he had been hired for. The last thing you wanted was to add to his already busy day of things he had to deal with. 

“You’d already left for work and had that new job you’ve been talkin’ about. Didn’t wanna bother you with it. I called AAA and had them put the spare on for me so I could drop it off at the tire shop. Now, I’m unexpectedly the owner of 4 new tires.” 

“I don’t care how busy I am— you need something, you call me, no matter what. Got that, Honey?” 

“Got it, Joel. Thank you.” You smile into the phone at his concern for you, always finding ways to make you fall even deeper in love with him. 

“Good. Hey, I gotta go. Tommy looks like he’s about ready to break his back. I should probably go help him before he actually does and my insurance takes a hit. I’ll see ya tonight then, sweetheart?” 

“Yeah. I should be outta here in 3 hours.” The end to your long shift, almost over. 

“That sounds great! I love you, Honey. I’ll see ya later.” You can faintly hear Tommy cursing in the background. 

“Love you too, Joel.” You tell him before the line goes dead. Giving yourself a few minutes of quiet before heading back to join your team and the never ending line of customers. 

The rest of your shift goes by fairly quickly. Joel’s phone call must have been just the moral boost you needed to sprinkle a little bit of extra positivity into your day.

The minute the clock hit 5 pm, you wasted no time clocking out and logging out of your computer for the day. Deliberately bypassing your usual exit path to avoid any chatty coworkers, Joel and home your main focus of the rest of your day, you weren’t going to waste any time stuck in drawn out conversations. 

Your purse thrown over your shoulder, work apron crumpled in one hand and the other holding your empty tumbler that once held the warm delicious coffee you had hoped would sustain you through the day, now wishing it was filled with something a little stronger to help you unwind when you got home. 

It’s a struggle trying to juggle your things as you search for your keys, lost somewhere in the depths of your purse along with the rest of your life's necessities. You pause in the middle of an empty parking space near where your jeep is parked to give the search your full attention. After some thorough digging, you locate your keys and let out an exasperated sigh, one step closer to being home. 

Taking a step forward as you press the unlock button on your key, you look up to see an unexpected sight. A familiar truck in the parking spot next to yours, and the most handsome man leaning on it. He looks like he came straight from the job sight, too. His peppered grey hair disheveled, but his soft curls were still intact even after a long day. The sleeves of your favorite green flannel are rolled up over his flexed forearms that are crossed against his chest, the fabric stretched over his broad shoulders. 

The sight of him is enough to melt away any of the bullshit you had endured over the past week, a completely welcomed surprise. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, letting your feet carry you the rest of the way to him. 

“Heard you were havin’ a shitty day. Couldn’t let my lady end it on a bad note.” He croons, pushing himself off the side of his truck, opening his arms to you. 

You melt into him, your face nestled into his shoulder. His rugged scent of musky vanilla and natural pheromones is permanently infused into the fibers of his shirt, it’s your favorite thing ever. His strong arms wrap around you as he presses a soft kiss to your temple, prompting you to straighten up, looking into his amber eyes. 

“Hi, Cowboy.” You beam at him. 

“Hi.” He says, leaning in to gently mold his lips over yours. “I’ve got a surprise for ya, Honey.” 

“This was enough of a surprise for me. What more could I need?” Stealing another kiss from him. 

“If I tell ya, it won’t be a surprise then, will it?” He says, tilting his head slightly as he looks at you. 

“I guess you have a point.” 

“We’ve gotta get going though, it’s time sensitive.” He grabs for your things and walks you around to the passenger door, holding it open as you climb in. “We’ll grab your jeep in the mornin’, if that’s okay with you?” 

“Whatever you say, Cowboy.” He leans back in for another kiss, before making his way around into the driver’s seat. 

*

The drive isn’t long. Down some familiar roads that lead to a dirt one off the main highway. His truck travels down the gravel road lined with a barbed wire fence. After a few minutes he’s pulling off to the side and killing the engine. 

“You brought me to my favorite place.” Looking over to his side of the truck, where he’s already looking in your direction. Your heart grows at how he thought to bring you here, knowing how much joy it brings you every time. 

“Thought you could use it. Look, here they come.” He says pointing to your window. 

Off in the distance, the small herd of cows were in pursuit of their evening meal and water break. Mamas with their little rambunctious calves trailing behind, trekking along the same path they travel each evening. 

It’s a calming sight. Their heads bobbling with each dramatic step. Tails whipping over their rear ends to swat away the annoying flies. A few stopping mid trek to look in your direction, letting out a long drawn out moo. Their friendly hello, it’s good to see you again, then back on the move. 

The sky is painted in pinks and purples as the sun dips below the horizon. Your day feeling less shitty as you sit silently in the cab of Joel’s truck. His hand resting on your thigh while his thumb draws soft circles over thick denim seam. 

“Thank you for this. Didn’t realize how much I needed it. I love you, Joel.” You tell him, rolling your head over the headrest in his direction. 

“I did it because I love you, Honey. And s’what I’m here for.” There’s a low rumble in the air as he turns the key over, shifting the truck into drive. “Now, how ‘bouts we head on home and I spend the rest of the evenin’ show you all the other ways I love you?”

“Take me home, Cowboy.” 

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us au #no outbreak!joel miller #TLOU #pedro pascal #pedrostories #wildemaven writes

[andhumanslovedstories]

Hello! I love your blog very much. I too am a second degree nurse. I just graduated from an ABSN program and I'm struggling to get my foot in the door anywhere despite good grades + honor society membership + in state license already secured. I live in NYC and the nursing shortage here is CRAZY but for some reason no one wants to talk to me. Would you recommend home health nursing for someone in my situation? I did my preceptorship in the ED and that's 100% where I belong, but the bills are really piling up and I have no prospects. How long did you do home health before you went bedside? Thank you for any advice you have!

(Disclaimer though for all this, I'm across the country from you and have no idea the landscape of nursing jobs in NYC.)

I worked in home health for 18 months. If my goal was to get to the hospital as quick as possible, I didn't need to be there that long. I wasn't in any particular rush to move on. Plenty of people worked less than that and got hired at a hospital, I think something like a year was the average. I know the different between sending out my new grad resume and sending out my home health nurse resume was night and day. As in: literally anyone wanted to interview me.

I'd encourage you to at least apply and see if you can interview. You get to interview the company right back, and that'll let you know the kinds of work they expect from you. There are two main types of home health: the kind where you visit a lot of patients in a day and the kind where you're with one patient for the entire shift. The first kind is doing stuff like dressing changes, medication management, or periodic assessment. The second kind is more like general caregiving with nursing related requirements. I mostly did the second one, and worked night shift. So I fed a patient dinner, I gave them a bath, I got them dressed for bed, then tucked them in and stuck around until morning for their needs in the night. But within that was trach management, seizures, G tubes, medications, central lines, ongoing assessment, all that stuff that got this person nursing hours. I'm not gonna lie--it was often very very boring. I read a lot of books.

(btw west coast disclaimer again, but if you're willing to work nights, you'll get hired more easily. Everyone everywhere in the world doesn't have enough night shift coverage. also, oops! this got long and became an essay on home health!)

For downsides, in home health you can get limited training and orientation before you're alone, responsible for a patient. And then it's all on you. I had some gut-dropping moments early on where I encountered something I didn't know how to handle and didn't know how urgent it was. There's supposed someone you can call at all times, but multiple times when I did call, no one picked up. It can be super stressful and frankly dangerous as an inexperienced nurse. Luckily, many times you have the patient's family as a resource. It's likely they've been doing this years longer than you have. Though it's worst thing in the world when you wake someone up at 3 am because you're unsure and concerned, and then have that person explain in a really supportive tone of voice that these frequent, very brief seizures were probably just hiccups. Hypothetically speaking.

You can get too entwined with the patient and family's lives. It's hard to call out sick because you know no one can cover you. It's easy to cross emotional boundaries. Imagine spending 40 hours a week with someone and their family. They'll occupy a spot in your brain.

And I don't think it's a great place for a new nurse to stay for years and years, just for like professional development reasons. You won't get exposure to a variety of patients (unless you work that other type of home health in which case enjoy seeing eight different patients a day, hope traffic doesn't suck), so it's easy to forget stuff you just learned. I never had to think about transfusion reactions until I started at the hospital and shit now it's relevant all the time. I had to completely relearn how to hang an IV piggyback. Plus, since you work alone, you don't get the chance to see how other nurses work. It's hard to figure out a profession when you practice in complete isolation. It's easy to learn bad habits and have no one ever correct you.

But there's a lot I like about home health. You really do have a perspective on patients and patient care that is unique to home health and long-term care. In the hospital, you don't always get that long-term perspective. If you work with someone for a while, you can track how they progress or decline. Why do some clients stay at home for years and others keep going back to the hospital? What's different about their conditions and cares? You see all the work it can take to keep them steady. That's perspective that easy to lose. It helps you put the patient on a timeline that extends beyond the hospital. If you click with a patient and/or family and work with them for a while, it can be very satisfying working with them because you see so clearly the impact you're having.

Also! I read so many fucking books! I listened to so many podcasts (played so so softly). I knitted and learned sudoku and practiced yoga, looked up vacation spots, put in my grocery orders, and organized my playlists. I also could research and research and research. I had time to look up everything about every condition my patient had, and once I felt more comfortable with those, I moved on to looking up whatever other disease process and patient experience seemed interesting. I'd make myself a little curriculum and, after my patient was tucked in, and be like "tonight's class is vlogs about having a trach."

There were plenty of shifts where I bustled all fuckin night, and sometimes those shifts seemed to be in one endless hellish row, but often I had a lot of time to myself that I could spend however I wanted, as long as I was still in the room with the patient, able to meaningfully hear and see them, and keeping up with the night routine. I fucked around a lot and got paid for it because the job is to be available when needed, and you're not always needed. (I'm not saying slack off! I'm just saying even colicky babies sleep peacefully now and then.)

Anyway jesus christ that got away from me, but like please know that I was in your exact place, and I know how much it sucks and how crazy it makes you feel because I THOUGHT WE WERE SHORT ON NURSES DON'T ANY OF YOU FUCKERS NEED A NURSE, and know that all the other job hunts after this should and will be easier than this.

#nursing tag

[ellievickstar]

The Name of Love (Eris Vanserra x reader)

A/N: This is just a short story to boost my imagination, I loved this concept but I’m a little lazy to write it so I hope this turned out well because I really had to push through and endure here T^T

Summary: After a long time of enduring what she thought was a loveless marriage, YN finally decides to leave the High Lord of the Autumn Court (Eris, not Beron. Beron is dead 🥳) 

Inspired? Yes! By In The Name of Love by Bebe Rexha

Requested? No. 

Warnings: Heart break, angst, lack of self-esteem, more angst, unstable author (My friend wrote the last part but we all know it’s true 😂) 

*I would put art here but I can’t draw for shit*

~*~*~*~*~

YN POV:

You huffed as you straightened the front of your skirt. Today was the day you were finally leaving. You smiled at the thought as you pushed open the heavy double doors to the throne room. Eris was on break, however, he still seemed to be filling in some paperwork. 

He looked up at you once and rolled his eyes as he looked back down at his paperwork, “I told you not to disturb me when I-” “I’m leaving,” You interrupted as you took off the wedding band he had given you years ago. You didn’t know what to expect, maybe some sort of acknowledgment or a goodbye, or maybe even a plea to stay. But, nothing, he simply hummed as if trying to get you to leave, not even paying attention to you. You looked down as disappointment filled you and bitterness. This was why you were leaving. You were tired of this, this negligence. Sure, Eris sometimes bedded you for his own needs and enjoyment but you wanted more. You wanted love and happiness. 

Now that his father had been long dead and he no longer needed you, and now that Keir was dead as well and could no longer force you to stay here, you were leaving. You turned around and left. The guards shifted uncomfortably, opening their mouths to say something but you shook your head. For years the guards have watched you struggle and you had created a sort of sibling bond with them. You didn’t want to leave them but you couldn’t bring yourself to stay any longer, and with someone else on the way… 

By the time you reached your room, tears had filled your eyes. Eris Vanserra wasn’t cruel like his father, but he wasn’t too compassionate either. There was a certain balance he had and you had loved that about him. You had held out hope that one day you would be able to settled down and sort things out together, but he still ignored you everyday. You were so tired. 

“We’ll be okay,” you said softly as you placed a hand over your still flat abdomen. You had found out this morning. Maybe, that was what made you decide to leave, but the fact remained that you couldn’t bring a child into a loveless environment like this. He might not have a father if you left, but that was better then knowing that your father couldn’t care enough to love you.

And so you began to pack.  

~*~*~*~*~*~

Eris POV: 

A second opening of the double doors caught my attention, YN didn’t usually come more then once a day during my breaks and I had been so busy earlier I hadn’t realised she left. Most of the time she offers to spend time together, or brings food that I don’t touch, I hadn’t paid attention to what she said so I wonder why she came back, however, her visits were always welcomed. 

“My lord,” A timid voice squeaked out. It was one of the handmaidens. I frowned as I glanced up. “Speak,” I ordered, already annoyed and disappointed that it wasn’t my lovely wife. I still had so much paperwork to get done and being distracted wasn’t good, but, the next few sentences the handmaiden said had me sprinting out the doors. 

“The lady has left the grounds sir, I assumed she was going for a walk but she had taken quite a large bag with her, and she left behind her wedding ring, sire” She stuttered out, seeming completely dazed. “What?” I shot out of my seat, “She didn’t even tell me anything before leaving-” “She did,” One of my guards cut in. Amber, she was one of my first few female guards I had hired after my fathers death, and I remember she grew quite close with YN. “What do you mean,” I demanded. “She told you, she told you she was leaving. So either you were deaf, or you just couldn’t care enough and I am glad,” She snorted. I stalked up to her, enraged. 

“What. Did. You. Say.” I growled. Amber didn’t even flinch. “I am glad that she got out of this loveless and ridiculous marriage, with her father recently dead and your father long gone, who is holding her back? I mean, she does have that baby, but maybe it will have a better life outside these cold walls,” My blood ran cold as I processed the guards words. And then I ran. I ran so fast to her room, and there it was, a wedding ring, and a note. 

Dear Eris Vanserra, 

I have left your home. I had told you earlier but if you weren’t paying attention I’m telling you now. I want more then what you have deemed fit to give me. You use me when you want and afterwards you discard me with no regards, I am your wife for crying out loud! Anyways, I’m tired. I have taken my stuff and I will get a priestess to break our marriage as soon as I am comfortable with seeing you again. If you have or have not heard about the pregnancy, do not expect me to give you any right to seeing him or her. Maybe I should have left the moment my father died, this was a doomed marriage to begin with. 

Goodbye,                                                                                                                      YN

I paled as I read the letter again and again. This must be some sort of trick, but as I surveyed her room I noticed that some clothes were missing, drawers were pulled open and emptied of their cash and jewels. Most of she had earned herself or brought from the court of nightmares. I held the discarded wedding band in my hand as my knees buckled beneath me. 

She had left, because of me. 

~*~*~*~*~

A/N: I might make part 2, I might not. 

taglist: tag list: @moonfawnx @bankerfrog @younxii @starlit-terror @hideing@flightlesslittlebirdie @menagerofmischief @famousbasementpainter@owllover123 @cityofidek @gigisssz

#Eris #eris vanserra angst #eris x reader #eris acotar #high lord eris #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x oc #reader #acotar #autumn court #mor acotar #keir acotar

[sebastianswallows]

Dangerous and Delightful — Chapter 14 — Blood and breath

— PAIRING: Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: Sebastian is a purveyor of forbidden artefacts, a dark arts researcher, and a curse-breaker for hire. Ominis, desperate to save him from himself, hires Reader in secret to persuade him, by any means necessary, to leave his illegal activities behind.

— WARNINGS: A bit of dom-sub/bloodplay, idiots in love, Subastian, dark!reader, light choking, and the most twisted body worship ever

— WORDCOUNT: 2.5k

— TAGLIST: @bloofinntoona @sarcasticpluviophile @estrotica

“This morning, when I went for my walk —”

“I knew you were lying!”

“I didn’t lie! You just never asked in which direction I —”

“You went to the Clokes, didn’t you?”

He had to grin at her clever guess. “They let me send an owl to one of my associates in London. I’ve already promised I’ll return once the issue with the Aurors is resolved.”

“Wh-why would you do that?” she asked, seeming heartbroken.

The reaction startled Sebastian. He didn’t think she cared much whether he was here or there, and yet she looked at him as if he’d Incendioed her chickens.

“You know, you could come with me back to London,” he said, sitting up slightly on his elbows. “Come live with me.”

“Oh, really?” she asked mockingly. “You live in London, do you?”

“Well, yes…”

“And your excursions to Dover and abroad?”

“You could come on those too.”

She gave a derisive chuckle and leaned further away, not even looking at him. His body felt cold, left naked and uncovered by her.

“What do you take me for? One of your dangerous ladies?” she quipped, quoting him back from their talk at the Three Broomsticks. “Fierce and frightening and immeasurably tender? Please…”

“That was just… just…”

She cocked a brow and waited for him to find his words.

Sebastian didn’t dare say he was puffing himself up in front of her as someone more debonair. “It doesn’t have to be like that with you. I… I would…” He swallowed the knot in his throat, and looked into her eyes, and said the most vulnerable and revealing thing he dared to yet. “I would take you exactly as you are.”

Her eyes went wide, but not in a way he’d hoped. “Oh,” she laughed, “you would lower your standards for me! How flattering.”

“No!” he wailed, “that’s not what I meant!”

By now, she shifted to the side of the bed and covered her face in her hands, breathing deeply.

Sebastian crawled toward her, put his hands on her shoulders, and pressed down to calm and keep her there, make sure she did not escape.

“Listen, let’s go back to bed, and we can finish what… what we started, and we don’t have to think about these things now. How’s that? Just… just take it one night at a time?”

“No, I don’t think I can,” she sighed, shaking her head stubbornly. “What’s the point? If… if you’re still going to leave, then…”

“You really want me here, don’t you?” said Sebastian, speaking mostly to himself. “Forever?”

“Would that be so bad?” she asked, turning to look at him.

“But wh-what about if your brother comes back?”

The question caught her by surprised and she was left struggling for words. Sebastian didn’t know what to make of it. In truth, he didn’t care all that much what her brother did, and by her shock she clearly hadn’t thought about him lately either, but it was something to consider — or at least, something he could use as an excuse.

“What do you feel for me?” she asked in a sudden turn of voice, from desperate to cold.

It was Sebastian’s turn to be left stammering. He wasn’t sure what the term for what he felt could even be… He’d been in turn charmed by her, then obsessed. Sometimes, he felt in love, and other times he just felt in lust — although it was never ‘just’ anything with her.

“I… I feel a lot of things,” he started.

“Such as?”

“Well, first of all, I respect you very much.” His gaze went to her chest where the chemise peaked in two tantalising little places. “As a lady.”

She chucked dryly.

“And I like you, as a host.” Slowly, he raised one tentative hand to brush her braided hair over her shoulder. “And I’d like to know you more, but the closer we become, the further away you draw from me.”

“Is that all?” she asked with an air of disinterested disappointment.

“No,” said Sebastian, looking now into her eyes, his hand on her naked shoulder, sliding downward with the strap of her chemise. “I want you. I want to spend more time with you. Like this…”

It was the first hint of apprehension she’d given when he revealed the top of her breast, but she stayed still and looked back at him with only the hint of a frown.

“But only for a little while. Until it’s safe for you to return to London.”

“I told you, come with me.”

“And I told you to stay with me.”

His hand cupped her elbow as he paused in thought. What she asked for was not impossible, but it was certainly a sacrifice… one he wasn’t ready to make. Although, deep down, a certain part of him wanted to make it.

“What say you we postpone this talk, hm?” he tried again, smiling. “We can speak of it tomorrow, with a clearer head.”

“A clearer head,” she said, almost like a question with a cynical cock of the brow.

“It wouldn’t make a difference, would it? Whether I decide to stay or go, I still need to pay for my room and board tonight,” grinned Sebastian, sliding his hand down her back.

“Oh, I shall make you pay.”

Moving slow and sinewy, she leaned across him, body brushing against his. Just as Sebastian parted his lips in expectation of a kiss, she leaned in further still and reached for something on the bedside table: her wand.

“Lay back down,” she said, pointing the wand at him like a sword.

He did as told, smiling, not fearing her — yet. He was barely further up on the bed when she flicked her weapon, cast a spell, and bound his wrists above his head with a conjured length of rope. A wave of her wand pulled him higher until he rested on the pillows once again, adjusting him to her pleasure.

“What do you intend to do?” he chuckled.

“Get my dues,” she purred, straddling his lap.

Her wand rested somewhere by her leg, out of his sight — not that Sebastian had eyes for anything but her — and, with her hands free, she dug her claws into his chest. He sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth, but it hadn’t hurt him all that much.

“Tough skin,” she said, biting her her lip. “Takes more than that to make you bleed.” Very gently then, her fingers started circling his nipple.

“Why would you want to make me bleed?” he asked with a cocky smile.

“Oh, just for fun.”

Her fingers grasped his nub and twisted it, squeezing lightly as she pulled. Her gaze was sharp and challenging, and only now Sebastian began to try the binds, but they were strong. He felt confident that he could push her off using his legs, although he didn’t want to yet; he wanted to see what she would do.

It made his blood sing to feel her little fingers there, to have his nerves come to life from her touch. She wasn’t careful in her movements, but she was deliberate. His gaze could not help but fall to her lips, which seemed redder and fuller than ever before. Sebastian felt his loins harden and swallowed a groan. But while he felt himself heat up beneath her, from his from his teased and tortured nubs down to his throbbing groin, her eyes remained cold and indifferent.

It took him to gasp in pain for her to finally release his suffering flesh, and then her hands turned soft. She brushed her palms over his chest, sliding them down, capturing the nubs between the length of her fingers with each passing and teasing at another squeeze. When he looked down, he could see the swell of her chest in the loosely hanging chemise. With a smile, and him distracted, her hands travelled upward, tracing along his collarbones. It only took a slight adjustment for her to wrap her hands around his throat, and squeeze.

Sebastian took a deep breath but stayed still, looking into her eyes and smiling. His hands still rested above his head, supine, and against his intention, his legs just barely started to brace against the bed. He did not feel in danger so much from her actions, which still had a feminine delicacy to them, as from her glare, consistently focused and cold.

She squeezed down, pressing against his breath, his blood, his voice — not that he knew what to say — and he was left gazing at her, open-mouthed, torn between his thoughts and feelings. His lips started feeling bruised first, and then a tingling spread to his nose. His teeth flashed in pain when he grimaced, but the only struggle he put up was a thrashing of his legs behind her.

She didn’t care. She sat on his waist, holding him down with her body, and just as his heart began to throb, her grasp eased around him. His sadistic host held a hand there, just clasping his throat, while the other slid lower again.

“You’re a cowardly wizard,” she whispered. “Letting a little witch like me do this to you… What sort of man are you?”

In contrast to her voice, her hands were gentle. His blood began to flow again beneath her left-handed grip while the tips of her fingers brushed through the hair on his chest, making swirls around his freckles. She lowered herself until her breasts were brushing his stomach, teasing him. Her shirt stuck to his sweat, making it almost transparent.

“A smitten one,” he grinned.

“Oh, smitten suddenly, are you?”

“It isn’t sudden.”

She tried to put on a dismissive smirk, but it didn’t hold. Just when Sebastian expected her to push away from him, she kissed him. Her lips were soft, her eyes closed, and her hand around his throat became caressing. He turned utterly pliant beneath her, kissing back with hardly any strength, reduced to taking only what she deigned to give. When she pulled away, there was a look of surprise there. Her eyes went wide and she frowned, as if he’d been the one to start it.

With renewed verve, she sunk her nails in him again. She scratched from his stomach all the way up to his chest where she caught his nub in a piercing grip that left it red. Sebastian bit his lip bloody and instinctively arched upwards, following her, until his flesh snapped out of her grasp and he could rest back down again. He looked up, eyes bleary with pain, and saw her smirking. It was then he realised that he’d been grinding his hips into her. He blushed and forced himself to stop, although if asked, he could not tell why. He’d never felt this shy and vulnerable before… Another tug at the binds around his wrist proved futile.

Like a sudden rain and rush of wind, she sunk her claws into his flesh while squeezing tight around his throat. It took his breath away and made his skin tingle as little welts rose up, made him hot and cold at once, made him moan and whimper and brought him to the verge of tears.

It was getting less fun for him. Sebastian pushed his feet against the bed again and raised his hips, bucking into her, trying — still gently — to push her off, but she just pressed down harder with all her weight.

“Alright, stop,” he asked. His head thrashed left and right, his stomach dipping to escape her teasing, and his heart shuddered with fear. “Stop it!”

“Beg.”

“Just… just stop it, that’s enough!”

“Beg.”

“Alright! I beg you.”

“Beg me to what?”

Sebastian glared at her. Her hands had stilled, but her nails were dangerously curled around his belly button and her hand was sticky at his throat from sweat.

“Let me go.”

“Say it again,” she asked with relish.

“Please, let me go!”

Somehow, that only made her smile. “No,” she said tenderly.

In a motion so slippery it was over before he noticed, she released him, and caressed a smooth path up to his shoulders as she lay down by his side. His hands were still tied above his head, but she cuddled up against him with a hand thrown lazily over his chest and her legs curled over his. Sebastian almost chuckled at this transfiguration.

“Just like that, huh?” he grinned tiredly. “All it takes is to ask nicely?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she smiled, her eyes already closed. “I haven’t let you go. You’re sleeping here tonight.”

“Very well,” he murmured. “I can take that… But, no more claws.”

“Was it that bad?” she purred. “And here I thought all your stories of braving deserts and crypts —” she was cut short by a yawn “— were true…”

“I’ll be red and sore tomorrow because of you,” said Sebastian with an air of protestation.

“Good. So you won’t forget where you must return.”

“So possessive,” he chuckled.

“Mmm…”

Her mumble was neither of denial nor acquiescence. If anything, she merely sounded sated. He wondered again whether she really was a vampire, but the happy blush in her cheeks convinced him otherwise.

Sebastian took deep breaths to calm himself while his host ��� his mistress now, it seemed — fell asleep beside him. Her forehead rested against his chest, her breasts tickled his side from beneath her thin nightshirt, and her legs were tangled in his own. She painted a pretty picture, but every time he looked down at himself, even through the semi-dark, he could see the angry lines she left him with. It certainly did one thing: made sure he wouldn’t forget her tomorrow.

“As if I ever could,” he whispered. And as he looked down at her sleeping form, a mad impulse pulled him down to kiss the crown of her head.

He felt silly now to have given in to her little games, although begging felt sweet. Moving as gently as he could, Sebastian moved his arms down, embracing her almost, and started feeling around for her wand. He found it pressed into the bed between them, and with a bit of wiggling, he could finally grab hold and pull it into his hand. It was a bit challenging to try to cast something with her wand, hers had quite a different core, but dissapparating the rope was easy enough, and finally he was free.

Sebastian rubbed his wrists as he looked down at her. His manoeuvres had shifted her on the bed a little, but she was still pressed to his side, curled up and wound all around him, cheeks still blushing hotly and soft baby hairs sticking to her skin. He smiled, imagining all manner of things he could do to her — tie her up in revenge perhaps, or disappear her clothes, or put her in some deeper sleep and have his way with her — but he found he didn’t wish to do any of those things. However cruelly she had treated him, however sharp her kitten claws, Sebastian only wanted to do one thing.

He slid lower on the bed, pulled up the covers, and with his head sinking into her soft pillows, he pulled her to his side, nuzzling her neck, her hair, her shoulders, and fell fast asleep.

#Sebastian Sallow #hl #Sebastian Sallow imagine #Sebastian Sallow x reader #Sebastian Sallow x MC #Sebastian Sallow fanfiction #sswallow;made a thing #sswallow;fanfics #fanfic;danger and delight #Sebastian Sallow smut

[akutails]

LO$ER=LO♡ER - nakajima atsushi

✁you’ve encountered two bad customers in a span of a month, and both of those encounters involves atsushi coming to save the day. warning: cursing, mean customers. repost from @[yatsugareboyf].

Atsushi hasn’t been working long when Cafe Uzumaki decided to hire you as another barista. He works the morning shift, usually with one other barista, as most of the employees worked at night due to school or other jobs they had during the day. You were assigned the morning shift (not that you had any choice, the cafe needed more morning workers) with Atsushi and the other barista Lucy.

You could say that you all got along well. Atsushi was kind enough to take you under his wing and teach you everything that you needed to know, while Lucy swatted him every time he would teach you something wrong or mess up a recipe he’d been showing you.

“For an Americano, you just need six ounces of espresso-” Atsushi begins, already adding way too many into the machine, but Lucy smacks him from behind his head.

“Idiot, it’s only three ounces! Are you trying to kill our customers?!” she scolds, making you snicker quietly while Atsushi whines and apologizes while still being scolded and smacked by Lucy.

After redoing the recipe (Lucy made Atsushi drink the six-ounce espresso americano), they continued to teach (and bicker) the other recipes and before you knew it, you’ve mastered all the recipes in just under a week of training. (“Why does Y/N pick it all up faster than you do? It took you an extra week and you’re still shit at it” “Lucy, it’s not like you’re any better at it..”)

The one thing you struggled with, despite already memorizing all the recipes and combinations possible, is talking and dealing with customers. Atsushi and Lucy were an exception, of course, but you didn’t have the courage to tell them that you had a hard time with the communication part of the job. They didn’t realize this until you had to talk to a customer with a complaint.

For the most part, taking and serving orders were manageable. It was just a simple “What would you like?” “Here’s your order”, you couldn’t fuck that up. The thing is, other than your memorized lines, you completely froze at any other interaction, so when your customer called you over, you were already expecting the worst. You glanced at Atsushi to try and ask him to deal with the customer, but he was occupied with cleaning the machines while Lucy was serving other customers. The customer was basically yelling for you at this point, so you had no choice but to approach the customer and hope for the best.

The best scenario would be that it was a mistake and we’d both go on our merry way, right?

“You made this, right?” the customer, who seemed like a middle aged man with nothing to do, but you made no comment, “It has milk in it! I’m lactose intolerant!”

Of course, you think, the customer is unaware of the ingredients. I’ll just explain that to him and we’ll be okay.

“Sir, you ordered a latte.. That contains milk..” you cringed, I think I sound rude. Am I rude? Your question was already answered when the man’s frown worsened and you could see the steam coming out of his ears.

“You didn’t disclose that when I ordered it? That’s your job! That makes you liable for any damages!”

You couldn’t feel more pathetic just standing there while this man barked at you on how you should be doing your job. It’s not like you wanted to let him yell and insult your whole being, but you couldn’t move. Your lips were sealed shut and your hands were clammy.

You hate confrontation, especially if you know that you did nothing wrong. It makes you lose all control over breathing and it’s like all cognitive function disappears at that moment.

“What, you’re just gonna stand there? Do something, you useless piece of-!”

“Hey! What are you yelling at my coworker about?” Thankfully, Lucy comes to save you after she notices a lot of unnecessary yelling from the other side of the cafe. Atsushi then follows, slowly pulling you away from the scene to the back of the cafe where it’s more quiet.

You didn’t notice that you were crying until Atsushi was cradling your face in his hands, wiping away the tears with his thumb. It feels warm and comforting, for someone who you’ve only known for a week.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay, just breathe, yeah?” he whispers as to not fill your ears with more unnecessary noise, “you’re safe here. Just breathe.”

He over-exaggerates his inhales and exhales, and you can almost feel the rise and fall of his chest, and gestures to you to do the same. He doesn’t stop even when you cough and breathe shakily, Atsushi continues to guide your breathing back to normal, or at least to limit it down to deep breaths. It’s like how parents try to calm down their crying toddler, patting their back and softly whispering sweet assurances as they rock them side-to-side, but you don’t feel infantilized by it. It feels oddly comforting, his warm hands on your cheeks moving down your back to slowly rub it, and it grounds you.

Because of Atsushi, you calmed down faster than any other time you’ve tried to yourself.

“What the fuck was that?” Lucy barges into the room after Atsushi had managed to calm your breathing and crying. The white-haired boy winced at his coworker’s loud voice and rubbed your back comfortingly when you visibly flinched.

“Lucy, don’t be so loud.” Atsushi starts, glancing over at you who calmed down a bit, “it wasn’t their fault, I’m sure.”

“I know that much, idiot Atsushi. What I’m asking is why you couldn’t defend yourself out there. He was clearly wrong, so why’d you let him yell at you like that?” She stands there with her arms crossed. She was also concerned, don’t doubt that, but she was also worried since this isn’t the worst customer to ever walk the cafe, so what more if you encountered worse people?

“I..” your throat blocks up and you gesture vividly until you could speak again, “I don’t know.. Couldn’t move…”

“I get what you mean, Y/N. It’s okay, it was your first time encountering these kinds of people.” Atsushi smiles warmly at you, making you freeze again, but this time, it felt different. Your hands aren’t shaking and your cheeks feel hot, and it isn’t uncomfortable.

You didn’t mind freezing up if it was because of his smile.

Atsushi noticed you freezing up again and his smile turned into a frown. Shame, you thought. “Don’t think about it too much, you’re doing great!”

You could only press your lips into a tight smile, nodding along to his words. You turned to Lucy to silently apologize, and she just sighs and waves her hand. “It’s fine, but don’t count on me and this dimwit to save you next time.”

Lucy wasn’t there the next time, but Atsushi was.

It’s been three weeks since the old man came to the store and everything seemed to be going smoothly. You could handle simple communication tasks and whenever there was a complaint, Lucy or Atsushi would approach them and usually, it went well.

It’s also been three weeks since you’ve had Atsushi on your mind non-stop. Your relationship with him has developed more after the incident. He was more kind and considerate with you, now knowing your issue with communicating with customers, and he was more than willing to help you out in other things. You couldn’t help but overthink, is it just pity? Is it because I have an issue, that’s why he’s being so considerate? What if I didn’t freeze up that time, would he have stayed the same?

But it wasn’t always about pity. The way you’re immediately filled with this indescribable warmth whenever he brushes his fingers on yours when reaching for your cup, or whenever he looks up to you and smiles, or whenever you remember how he calms you down almost instantly. You’re not familiar with this feeling, but it’s definitely better than freezing up because some old man is yelling at you for not telling him that a latte has milk. You feel guilty for saying it, but you wouldn’t mind having another confrontation like that if Atsushi would be there to save the day.

After three weeks since the latte incident, Lucy had to take a two-day leave. She didn’t say why, but she did vividly remind you and Atsushi (mostly Atsushi) to take care of the morning shift because no one from the night shifts was willing to occupy Lucy’s spot.

The first day started off relatively quiet. Customers were served calmly and any issues were quickly resolved, and it wasn’t even that busy. For the most part, you and Atsushi weren’t really that busy. There was a lot of vacant time where both of you were just laying around and cleaning up. Atsushi would try to make conversation, and it would go well, but then a random customer would pop up and ruin the conversation.

While Atsushi tended to the customer, you were on the other side of the bar. I’m not staring. I’m just looking that way, you want to say, but you were definitely staring. You fixed your gaze on Atsushi, who talks so sweetly to the customer, maybe about how there were no banana bread in stock this week, or maybe how Americanoes have three ounces of espresso rather than six ounces, whatever it is, he talks so warmly. Even as he starts to walk away from the customer, to make their drink you assume, his aura of comfort and easiness never fades. He somehow brings relief and serenity to those around him with just a simple smile or a little “Hi!”. You feel a little jealous of the customer, who was lucky enough to elicit a cute giggle from Atsushi when they dropped a hefty tip in the tip jar, and you wish it was you who made this cute boy laugh.

He approaches you after he deals with the customer with a small smile, dusting his hands off, “Are you okay? You’ve been spaced out.”

You nod, laying your arm on the counter and resting the side of your head on it. Giggling, Atsushi copies your movements, now facing you directly. You suddenly feel very exposed, but you don’t move.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” you answer, adjusting quietly to meet his eyes more. “You?”

“The last customer dropped a very big tip, so you can say I’m stoked.” He chuckles, and you can’t help but let a quiet laugh yourself.

“Yeah, they seemed to really like you.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm. You’re… you. They would be an idiot if they didn’t like you.”

You were too occupied with his beautiful two-toned eyes to notice a small blush appear on his pale cheeks. He stays quiet for a while, before smiling.

“How about you, Y/N? Do you like me?”

It was your turn to stay quiet, and you can’t help but hope that he doesn’t see the effect that he has on you. Of course I like you, you wanna say, but you’re choked up and frozen, only staring into his eyes as an answer. It happened again, Atsushi. You made me freeze with just a simple action. What would I do if it isn’t smiles and small touches anymore? No, I’m thinking too far ahead. Atsushi wouldn’t wanna talk more with me if not because of our job. He’s not interested in me as I am in him. Atsushi deserves someone more interesting, someone who doesn’t freeze every time he smiles or-

“Hey, is no one working here?” a harsh voice interrupts your thoughts, making you and Atsushi stand up abruptly. Atsushi waves at you and approaches the customer, probably signaling you to look like you’re working on something as well. You speed walk to the coffee makers, wiping down non-existent stains.

“Finally,” the man sighs irritatedly, “I’ll have a cinnamon dolce latte with sugar free buttery brown flavored syrup, non-fat whipped cream, and sprinkles for my daughter, and a black coffee for me.”

You peek over at Atsushi as he tries to hold back his own exasperated sigh, typing in the long order and totalling his bill. The man then just asks to bring the drinks to his table and walks to the nearest table to fiddle with his phone. When Atsushi faces you, he wears an awkward smile.

“I can do the long order while you brew him his coffee. Is it okay if you bring it to him?” He asks, already reaching for a plastic cup to fill. You nod quietly, starting to brew the coffee.

Atsushi was only half-way done with the complicated order when you finished yours (given it was a simple enough order), so you tapped his shoulder and gestured to the mug. He nods and smiles a bit, “Go ahead, Y/N,”

You inhaled sharply as you faced the direction where the man was sitting, already feeling a bit nervous as you stepped closer to his table. With every step you took, the louder your heart beats in your ears, making your hands tremble a bit. You tried to hold your shaking and trembling as you near him, stopping fairly close to him to take another deep breath. As you step forward, the man suddenly stands up, “What’s taking so-!”

His sudden movement clashed with your gradual approach, making you drop the black coffee all over his button-up shirt, the mug bouncing off the floor before shattering into pieces, leaving the small plate it used to sit on in your hands. His eyes widened and he pushed you away with enough force for you to trip and fall ass first on the ground.

Fuck.

“What the hell?” the man exclaims, wiping down haphazardly on his shirt before pointing at you as you scramble to get yourself off of the floor, “Are you blind?! Look where you’re going!”

Your legs were trembling as you stood up, struggling to maintain a straight posture as you continuously bow with quick “I’m sorry”’s coming out of your mouth. These apologies fall on deaf ears as he grips your uniform, making you look up to face him, “What are you standing here for? Get cleaning!”

With a quick “y-yes, sir!”,you run to the back of the cafe, passing a very concerned Atsushi as you grab the mop and bucket and rush back to the table to scrub the floor stained with coffee. He doesn’t seem to be satisfied with your frantic cleaning because he kicks the mop out of your hands and nudges you harshly with his finger.

“I meant my shirt, you dumbass! How stupid can you get?”

You couldn’t even move anymore with how embarrassed you feel. Your hands feel more clammy than ever, and your eyes are already starting to blur with tears. It feels like your heart fell to your stomach, closing up your throat and gluing your feet to the ground. Move, goddamnit! Stop being such a loser, you will yourself to at least grab a tissue to damp on the man’s drenched shirt, but it’s like this man’s arms are holding yours to your side, making you immobile.

The man reaches out to poke at you again, but it never reaches you. You hear struggling breaths and grunts, followed by a “I think t-that’s enough, sir.”

Your head shot up from the familiar voice, and you’re met with the sight of Atsushi gripping the man’s wrist just mere inches away from your shoulder. You couldn’t see his face, but you certainly saw the man’s face, scrunched up in pain and frustration as he tries to break free from his tight grip.

Before the man could even react to Atsushi, he grabs your hand and pulls you towards him as he runs to the door, pushing it open and drags you out of the cafe. Your feet are suddenly moving at a fast pace, trying to catch up with Atsushi as he continues to rush farther away from the cafe. You don’t know where he’s headed to or he’s just plain running, but you felt more free than ever. His hand holding yours tightly, looking at his hair flying back from the speed he’s running, it all feels so warm. So warm, that it makes you laugh even with the tears still freely falling from your face. Atsushi turns to you while running, watching your eyes squint as you continue to laugh, making him smile and tug you closer towards him and giggle quietly.

Your laughs and his giggles die down as he reaches a vacant parking lot a few blocks from the cafe, guiding you to sit down against a curb. You both sit in silence before he breaks it.

“I’m sorry for rushing out like that. Usually Lucy would handle those types of things, but I panicked… I’m so sorry.” His cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink, clasping his hands together as he lowers his head. He’s embarrassed? You couldn’t help but put your hands over his and shake your head frantically.

“Don’t be! I’m glad we got out of there, honestly.” He looks up to you with the most hopeful eyes, looking into yours to search for any hesitation or discomfort before sighing in relief.

“I feel like such a loser, running out of the cafe like that. I could’ve stood up for you, but-”

“No, no! You’re not a loser, Atsushi!” you say in the loudest voice he’s ever heard from you, and he stays quiet, “to be honest, I feel like I’m more of a loser if anything. I couldn’t do a single thing right.”

Your hands fall to your side, facing away from him and into the distance. I couldn’t do a single thing right. What does he think of me now? If he thinks he’s a loser from doing such a brave thing, what would he think of me from doing something so cowardly? I had to rely on him and Lucy to defend myself. He probably thinks I’m helpless on my own. I might get fired. I will get fired-

It’s always him, noticing when you’re too deep in your thoughts, struggling to keep your tears at bay. It’s his warm touch to your cheek, wiping away a stray tear from eyes with his knuckle. You glance over at him, wide-eyed as you feel his hand rub your back slowly, Just like last time, you wonder.

If smiles could convey words, Atsushi’s might’ve said a whole speech. His smile makes you feel like no other words would give justice to the comfort it gives you. You don’t need anything else to lift your spirits, or to wipe the tears from your eyes. It might even give you enough courage to walk back to that cafe and talk back to that man. Whatever it is, it’s more than enough to make your overflowing thoughts stop and your heart skip a beat.

“You did everything right, Y/N. It was an accident, you’re not to blame for that.” He stops rubbing your back in favor of tucking a stray hair out of your face behind your ear, “none of it was your fault, okay?”

You swallow a lump in your throat you didn’t notice was there earlier, a ghost of a smile on your lips.

“I like you.”

“H-huh?”

“From your question earlier,” you whisper, suddenly embarrassed at your sudden confession. “You asked if I liked you. I do.”

His face goes blank for a moment before turning bright red, hiding his face in his palms as he whines.

“Don’t say things like that out of the blue! Warn me next time!”

You giggle at his cute reaction, patting his back in return.

After his small meltdown, he looks away from you as he fiddles with his fingers. Did I make him uncomfortable? Ah, I shouldn’t have said that, it’s not the right time-

“I like you too.” He says so quietly that you would’ve missed it if you were a smidge deeper in your thoughts.

If smiles could convey words, yours would’ve been enough to write a book about how much you adored Atsushi.

╰─▸ ❝ @[akutails]'s work is not open to reposts, plagiarism, and the likes. (09/06/22). taglist: @njisano, @atsucafe

#✎-love letters #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd #bsd x reader #atsushi #atsushi nakajima #nakajima atsushi #atsushi x reader #nakajima atsushi x reader #bsd atsushi x reader #bsd fluff #atsushi fluff #bsd imagines #atsushi imagines

[whats-wild-to-you]

Dr. Daredevil (Jay Park AU)

Chaeyeon

The obnoxious sound of my alarm clock pierced through my ears as I stretched out an arm from under the blanket, tapping air until I finally hit the snooze button.

I was grateful to be employed as soon as I graduated med school. I was in my fourth year of residency but already an irreplaceable surgeon in the hospital I was working in. I got to do intricate procedures and perform surgeries 4th-year residents shouldn’t be able to perform yet. 

There was just one downside.

As soon as I got out of the shower I got dressed, hastily chewing on a piece of bread I grabbed off my desk. The first rays of sun pierced through the horizon. It was promising to be a lovely and warm spring day so I decided to put on a dress with flower patterns all over it, put my hair in a high ponytail and spritz some perfume on. 

As soon as I opened the door my mood shifted, like the wind, who suddenly blew from the east, carrying with it the distinct smell of farm animals.

“You’re not in Seoul anymore!” I would then tell myself before walking the short distance to the bus stop. A shuttle bus picked up all the nurses, doctors and medical staff from the surrounding villages and drove them every morning to the hospital.

And every morning I stood a good five minutes in front of the old and shabby building and asked myself if that was the best I could do.

I was never a greedy person and was genuinely happy to be working in my hometown. But if I had options, I would’ve tried to get a job in Seoul.

‘Don’t skip steps!’ Dad had always said. ‘No matter if you’re in a hurry, you must take one step at a time.’

Back then I thought about his words and although I knew he was right, I also knew he wanted me to come back home for different reasons.

My mother had become very ill, and my dad, who wasn’t in his best form either, struggled to take care of her. While I was studying in Seoul they would often call, but never visit, saying they were too busy with work. The whole time they kept me in the dark about my mother’s health.

At my graduation, my father visited me, spoke to me. I knew what I wanted to do, stay in Seoul and hustle my way through, but in the end I did what needed to be done. I did the right thing. I packed my stuff and moved back home. Soon after, I was hired by the only hospital within a 150km radius. The medical staff, nurses and doctors had been working there for a long time and I felt uncomfortable being the only new member on the staff. But they made sure to welcome me and make me feel appreciated. My dad would always brag about me, about how talented I was. It always left a bittersweet aftertaste in my mouth.

If I was so talented, why was I wasting my talent here?

I never voiced these thoughts out loud though, too ashamed of even thinking them in the first place. Instead of being grateful, I was envying those who had it better than me. 

Like Soojung, my best friend since med school. Although she never practiced medicine and married a rich husband after graduating, she now lived the life I always dreamt of.

“Are you not going in?”

“Soon.”

Lee Kangmin was a 4th-year resident, just like me. He would often ask for my help during a tricky procedure and we would have lunch together almost every day. There were no romantic feelings involved, although many colleagues would wish otherwise. Kangmin was like family to me, and the only reason I didn’t dread working in the countryside.

I was immediately bombarded with questions as soon as I entered the building. Nurses and medical staff wanted to know all kinds of stuff from me, making me feel more important than I actually was. 

“I have to see the director, but I’ll be right back soon. In the meantime, try not to kill anyone!” It was my catchphrase and people around me hollered, before going back to their posts.

I had raised an eyebrow when I received the director’s text late last night.

Come see me first thing in the morning.

I racked my brain but couldn’t come up with a good enough reason for why he would want to see me.

Did I do something wrong? Did I mess up? 

Sweating for no good reason, I turned the doorknob and entered the director’s office.

“Good morning!”

Hwang Inseok was a good-natured man in his early seventies. A cardio-thoracic surgeon in his prime himself, he now took over administrative work. He hired me on the spot, saying I was the doctor he’d been waiting for.

“I have good news. But I also have something to discuss with you.”

Hwang Inseok was always very cautious when talking to me, a mere resident. He said that excluding the attendings and the chief himself, I was the one who kept the business running, so in his eyes I was an essential part of the medical staff.

“What is it?” I didn’t like the tone of his voice. Immediately I prepared for the worst.

“As you know, we have yet to name a new chief resident. So I talked to the chief and brought up your name.”

I opened my mouth to say something, then closed it again. Hwang chuckled and got up off his swivel chair, walking up to me. 

“But there’s more.”

“More good news?”

“Depends on how you look at it.” This caught my attention. He pointed to the couch and we both sat down facing each other.

“Over the weekend I visited a friend in Seoul. Kim Donghyun.”

When Hwang realized I had no idea who Kim Donghyun was, he let out a sharp breath, smiling mischievously. 

“He’s the director at SNUH.”

“Seoul National University Hospital?”

Hwang nodded, pleased by my amazement and awe.

“We talked about lots of things and somehow we ended up talking about you!”

“Me? Why?”

“Well, he kept bragging about this young, hotshot doctor of his, and I wanted to one-up him.”

“So? Who won?”

“That’s the thing. The more I bragged about you the more I realized how unchallenged you must be. I felt bad for holding back such a bright surgeon, for letting such talent go to waste!”

“Hwang daepyonim!”

“It’s true! And my friend agreed. Also, he seemed very interested in you, so I asked him for a favor.”

“What?!”

“I asked him to hire you!”

“Ah, daepyonim!”

“He agreed to interview you. I think you should go.”

A million thoughts went through my head. There it was. My chance to rise. But was I ready?

“Hwa-”

“Before you say no, think about all the sacrifices you’ve made to become a doctor, think about how good you are and how much better you could be if guided by the excellent doctors at SNUH.”

“I know all that but-”

“Nothing’s keeping you here!”

He was right. After my parents died, I was living alone. And the truth was that since then I thought about moving to Seoul more than once. But living and working in the countryside also had its upsides. I didn’t have to worry about finding an apartment or making enough money to pay rent and be able to feed myself. I was saving a lot of money by living in my parents’ house.

“Promise me you’ll go! It’s just an interview. If you end up not getting in, you have the chief resident post waiting here for you!”

But that was it. I wanted to work at SNUH. As soon as I heard Hwang’s words, greed rose in me.

Hwang kept staring, waiting for a response. I blinked and nodded, watching his smile getting bigger.

“Though I must say I’m hurt thinking that you’re willing to let me go that easily. What will you do here without me?” It was meant as a joke but I watched as Hwang sighed, looking into the distance. Then he focused his eyes back on me.

“I’d rather struggle here to find good doctors than keep you from reaching your full potential.”

Especially after my parents’ death, I often found myself seeking Hwang’s help and expertise. If I really had a shot at SNUH I knew it was him I would miss the most.

“What did Hwang want from you?” Kangmin asked, when we sat down to eat a quick lunch later that day.

He was literally the only person I wanted to share the good news with, but as nothing was set in stone yet, I weighed my options and decided to let him know after my interview in Seoul.

Shaking my head, I replied with a full mouth. “Oh, you know, the usual!”

After a grueling shift, I headed back home, took a shower and heated up some leftover dinner from the night before. My thoughts were racing, and as much as I didn’t want to think about Seoul, it was the only thing on my mind.

Sighing, I pulled out my phone, my thumb hovering over one particular name.

‘Chaeyeon! It’s so good to hear your voice!’ Lim Soojung chirped into the phone. She sounded out of breath.

“Am I interrupting?”

‘Nonsense. I’m in the gym. On the treadmill. What’s up?’

Suddenly I regretted calling. It had been months since Soojung and I last spoke. After our graduation, our lifestyles could not have been any more different. While she married a rich business man who was 10 years older than her and told her that her only job was to be a wife and a mother, I was slaving away each day in the hospital. 

“Nothing. I just called. Actually, I th-”

‘Who are you kidding? I can tell by your voice that there’s something on your mind. C’mon, spit it out!’

“I have an interview scheduled at SNUH.”

Soojung squealed, then I heard a loud thud.

“Are you okay?”

‘I almost fell off the treadmill, from jumping too much. Chaeyeon, that’s what you always wanted! I’m so happy for you!’

“I didn’t get the job yet!”

‘If you’re as good as you say, it’s practically yours. When is the interview?’

“In a week from tomorrow.”

‘Prefect! My husband is on a business trip next week. You should come a day early, sleep at my place. That way you’d be well rested and look fabulous for your interview!’

“We’ll see!”

‘Oh, please, say yes!’

Sighing, I rolled my eyes, even though Soojung couldn’t see me.

“Fine. If you insist.”

‘It’ll be the best slumber party ever!’

I hung up and ate the rest of my now cold dinner. Trying to suppress any emotions, I told myself that SNUH was a long shot and my chances of becoming chief resident here were much bigger.

Still, that night I went to sleep, dreaming about me living in Seoul again.

~

Nervously, I sat in front of Kim Donghyun, SNUH’s director. He wasn’t as good-natured as Hwang Inseok, but not as intimidating as I imagined him to be. 

“Inseok already talked my ears off about you, but I want to hear directly from you. Why didn’t you apply for a residency here?”

“Ah, I had a situation at home, and it seemed right to work there.”

“I see. But now you’d be willing to move?”

“Yes!”

“I see here you’re in your fourth year of residency and you’ve already performed some impressive surgeries. Inseok was not wrong when he called you a genius.”

“I-” His hand shot up and my voice faltered.

“No. Take the compliment. You absolutely deserve it.”

Half an hour later I walked out of the hospital, walking through the streets like I had just seen a ghost. Fortunately, Soojung, who drove me there, was waiting for me in a nearby café. As soon as she saw me walking up to her, she got up embracing me in her arms.

“It’s oka-”

“I got it.”

“What?!” She was holding me at an arm’s length, studying my face to see if I was joking.

“I got the job.”

“Oh my God! Yes! I knew it!”

I giggled, wanting to remind her that she was ready to comfort me just moments ago.

“Ah, that? Oh, I was just confused because you looked so gloomy. Why the long face? Aren’t you happy?”

“I should be happy, right? It’s just ... I feel like I’m betraying Hwang Inseok.”

“He was the one who told you to go! I bet he’ll be thrilled to hear the good news!”

Anxiously biting on my bottom lip, I dialed his number, silently praying that he would be too busy to pick up my call.

When he picked up after the fourth ring, I cussed under my breath.

‘How did it go?’

“I got the job.”

‘Of course you did. Congratulations! I knew you would succeed. We must celebrate!’

“Well, I’ll be back tomorrow, so don’t tell anyone just yet.”

‘You got it! See you tomorrow!’

“Why don’t you want him to announce it?”

“Hmm? No reason. I’d just like to do it myself.”

The first thing I thought when Kim Donghyun offered me the job was Lee Kangmin. I did refuse to tell him about it earlier and was regretting it now.

“Is there someone you don’t want to leave behind?” Soojung asked cautiously, but when our eyes met, hers grew big. 

“There is? Tell me everything!”

“It’s not like that! He’s a cherished colleague, that’s all!”

“Uh huh, sure!”

I smiled involuntarily, amused by Soojung’s carefree demeanor. Only then I realized how miserable I have been all this time.

“Ha! You’re smiling. It means I’m right! Tell me, what’s his name?”

~

Lee Kangmin was of course excited to hear the good news. Everyone was. And even though they congratulated me, throwing me a farewell party, I could see the sadness in their eyes. Especially in those of Lee Kangmin. 

That night I asked him if he wanted to come to my house for coffee.

“Are you having second thoughts?” He asked, casually plopping down on the sofa.

My silence was an even stronger answer than any denial.

“I feel like I’m letting everybody down!”

“You’re just too nice, Chae! Every attending knows this. They take advantage of you. They’re only disappointed because from now on they’ll have to do their own procedures.” Kangmin stated, shrugging.

“So, you’re not mad?”

“Me? Why would I be mad? Because you didn’t put in a good word for me as well? Nooo!”

“Wait. Maybe I should!”

“Now that would definitely piss off Hwang. He may be fine losing you but if I leave as well, the place will crumble.”

I laughed wholeheartedly, glad that Kangmin understood and supported me. “Yeah, you’re right. We can’t let that happen!”

~

A week later I had packed all my belongings and had loaded them up in a moving truck.

Soojung was busy hunting down an apartment for me. So far all the suggestions she sent me were outside my budget.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll help you get an apartment that’s close to the hospital and also spacious enough.’

In the end she decided more or less for me. The apartment looked big, and expensive. But when I asked her about the price she said it was within the budget.

When I arrived there, she was already waiting for me.

“So? Did I promise too much?”

“There’s no way this apartment is only 1.000.000krw! Where’s the catch? What did you do?”

“What do you mean? I did nothing. I negotiated. Also, my husband knows the building owner and he got a special deal.”

“Ya! Lim Soojung!”

“It’s Yoon now! Besides, I wanted to make sure nothing would get in the way of you moving here.”

I sighed, but started unpacking my things anyway. Soojung helped along and we were able to finish setting up everything.

“I already booked us in for a full day at the spa on Sunday, and tomorrow we’re going shopping!”

~

After a relaxing weekend, I stood in front of my chief resident I was supposed to shadow for a week. I knew nothing about her, but her appearance told me she must’ve been a nerd in school. Just like me.

“… and this is the break room. Usually it’s empty, so if you need a couple minutes of quiet, you can come here during the day.” She offered, repositioning the glasses on the bridge of her nose. 

Not too long ago I looked like her, wearing horn-rimmed glasses. Until I decided to get Lasik.

“Thanks.” I beamed at her, grateful that she offered to show me around.

“Any questions?” She stammered while struggling to balance the patients’ folders in her arms. I shook my head.

“Okay, then. Follow me. We’ll start with rounds. But first we need to gather our interns. They’re an odd bunch and still wet behind the ears but they’re eager to impress you so they’ll do everything you tell them to.”

Nodding, I took notes, walking down the aisle next to Ahn So Hee.

“Don’t worry! In a few days it’ll feel like you’ve been with us forever.”

“I hope so.” I released a desperate sigh. “Switching workplaces makes me nervous. I’m confident in my skills, but no one here knows that yet, so in their eyes I look inexperienced.”

“I’ve read your resume, trust me, soon they’ll find out what a great surgeon you are.”

Ahn So Hee’s reassuring words calmed my tense nerves and allowed me to relax my muscles. My shoulders dropped and I puffed up my chest, walking more confidently.

“Oh, and here’s a little insider tip. The vending machines by the elevators have the best coffee!”

Smiling, she ushered me towards them and bought me a cup of the steaming beverage. It was pretty decent for vending machine coffee and a welcomed remedy for my oncoming headache.

“Ugh, I almost forgot about him.” I heard So Hee mumble next to me, her head turned to the side, eyes glued on a bunch of doctors coming down the stairs. 

I followed her gaze curiously. I saw the doctors walking next to a guy, as if they were protecting him, shielding him from any unwanted interactions. Despite having his back turned towards me, he looked very familiar.

When he turned around, walking towards us, I gasped audibly, quickly raising a hand to cover my mouth.

“Park Jaebeom?”

“You know him?” I heard So Hee’s incredulous voice, but she sounded very far away.

He walked with quick steps towards us, the mostly older doctors walking with him struggling to keep up with his pace. My breath caught in my throat as he approached me. A million questions ran through my mind. I was about to open my mouth and greet him when I realized he wasn’t even looking at me, just passed by without acknowledging my presence and got in the elevator.

What in the fresh hell is Park Jaebeom doing here?

-> next chapter

#jay park #more soju please #more vision #park jaybum #park jaebeom #park jaebum #jay park fanfic #jay park scenarios #jay park imagines #khh imagines #khh fanfic #jay park aomg #aomg jay park #aomg scenarios #aomg imagines #h1ghrmusic #h1ghrgang

[wellnesscard]

okayyyy heres my rant about a lil bit of chicken fried a cold beer on a friday a pair of jeans that fits just right and the radio on

gooddddd. i lowkey/highkey hate my jobeven tho there isnt much "real" to hate on as compared to several other places ive quit. its just not my favorite. its mind numbingly boring and repetitive and still half the other managers loose their shit about doing the expected days work. i say other managers bc i am a manager which i didnt realize was the position at all until a couple months in, and if i decided to not do the training id get my pay cut from $14 to like $12. and that fuckings irks me bc had i known i was going to be responsible for ppl and things i wouldve asked for more koney when they hired me but that ship has sailed and i fuckt it up bc i thought i was going to be a line cook. and ig they need managers soooo bad they literally just paid for my serv safe n all that jazz. and i swear half the ppl that work there are fucking retarded like the last manager in training failed serv safe three or more times.. then when i passed everones like congratulations that test is really hard u did it! im like i have to get the fuck out of here Fast ohmygod. and i work with devon and its mostly fine but also drives me nuts occasionally. like were so together he just forgets stuff like telling me im manager in training or training me on any management shit at all before im supposed to start running shifts solo. im just frustrated by a lot and i want to quit but i know i probably shouldn't because its so fucking easy and i can get away with virtual murder there . its also a tiny cage of a kitchen, constantly overstaffed, and feel a bit trappt by a) devon going out n getting this job for me when we moved bc he already worked there n is buddies with the GM, and b) the GM being such a sad ass self-conscious redhead who has also just handed me a ton of free goodies. tbh they do quarterly raises and maybe if i negotiate to 15.50 ill be more okay with it all. that is/has been another struggle is making my own relationships w these people bc devon knew them all first and is a bit more boisterous than me and im trying to push past some of these codependent habits ive ended up with (started crying at this bit so u know were getting close to the truth) which is so fucking Hard when you work at his job working the same shifts or when were not i.e. today and i start crying waking up bc i have to go in alone and be manager which i never fully got trained for and be 1-on-1 with his sister who also works there and who i love but also can be very intense and volatile esp lately bc she started dating this girl whom is ..... kinda a dick ngl so thats obvy stressful. anyways yes avoiding codependency is Hard when thats the morning n he says anything i can do for u? and i half joking say work my shift? n then he does -_- and i feel like i should've just been a big girl. like if i worked a job different than my husband he wouldnt be able to cover my shift, its just the unique workings of This Fucking Place. which im fine with. i think. the walk there is amazing, even if i perpetually smell like fryer oil. fr watch me get mauled by a boar or bear omw home next week cos i smell like a snack walking home thru the woods. whatever at the same time its easy as pie and if i work it right i never have to buy groceries.

[whitneydaniell]

by: Jasmine Guillory Published: Sep 20, 2022 Genre: Romance, Contemporary, Fiction 384 Pages, Paperback

★★★★

GoodReads Synopsis:

Margot Noble needs some relief from the stress of running the family winery with her brother. Enter Luke: sexy, charming, and best of all in the too-small world of Napa, a stranger. The chemistry between them is undeniable, and Margot is delighted that she lucked into the perfect one-night stand she'll never have to see again. That is, until the winery's newest hire, Luke, walks in the next morning. Margot is determined to keep things purely professional, but when their every interaction reminds her of the attraction still bubbling between them, it proves to be much more challenging than she expects.

Luke Williams had it all, but when he quits his high-salary tech job in Silicon Valley in a blaze of burnout and moves back to Napa to help a friend, he realizes he doesn't want to tell the world--or his mom--why he's now working at a winery. His mom loves bragging about her successful son--how can he admit that the job she's so proud of broke him? Luke has no idea what is next for him, but one thing is certain: he wants more from the incredibly smart and sexy woman he hooked up with--even after he learns she's his new boss. But even if they can find a way to be together that wouldn't be an ethical nightmare, would such a successful woman really want a tech-world dropout?

My Review:

I always know exactly what I'm getting when I pick up a Jasmine Guillory book. Pillowy Fluff -- Sex -- Nonsensical Argument -- More Sex -- Boy & Girl Live Happily Ever After.

Margot and her brother, Elliot inherit their family winery upon the passing of their uncle Stan. I thought that sentiment was cute however, I would have liked to hear more about their mom and dad. It's mentioned that they live in California, it would have been nice to see them at the anniversary party. By all accounts, Margot is struggling with imposter syndrome even though, she has single-handedly turned the winery around -- she does gloat about herself early in the story but then spends so much time questioning her role and achievements.

Luke walks into the same restaurant where Margot is already taking up residence at their bar. He's cute (of course), Guillory only writes about beautiful, dreamy, successful men. Margot's friend and, the restaurant owner Sydney, dares her to flirt with him. And again, in true Guillory fashion, that flirting leads to some very hot sex.

Over the course of about six weeks, we are taken through the emotional turmoil of a new, blossoming relationship between Margot and Luke. Luke battling imposter syndrome himself, he and Margot seemingly have a lot in common.

Here's what I liked:

Outside of all the secks. There was also communication. Although this love story moved quick (just 30 days), there were lots of moments where these two really talked and got to know one another. This is something I complained about in "The Wedding Date".

Avery! She's the best friend that everyone needs. A straight shooter and willing to ride with you, until the wheels fall off.

Elliot was understanding and kind, which was very sweet and I love how that relationship dynamic shifted. I would love to hear more about him, he has a story to tell.

Guillory never gives "struggle love" and for that, I always have to BIG her up. In this story, both characters are kind decent people, and even the arguments, don't o below the belt or are too hurtful to the other. There is no huge deceit that one has to forgive.

But with likes, come some dislikes...

My one and only gripe was, Margot blew everything out of proportion and that argument didn't need to be an argument. PERIODT.

Guillory, thank you for always having a no-drama, no-triggering, no-struggle love in your books. Just pure Disney Princess love. The kind of love that all little black girls should hope for.

One-Word Summary: Cabernet Sauvignon

Other Jasmine Guillory books I've read & reviewed. The Wedding Date By The Book The Proposal

#drunk on love #jasmine guillory #books i read #tbr 2023 #book shelf #romance books #fiction #books about black women #books to read #black girl magic #reading

[averyshorts]

Prayer

The sirens had finally moved far away enough for him to hear his own voice. They could still be heard in the background, but the foreground was now left to his devout words. Kneeling in the small space between his bed and the window, he had knelt down and folded his hands, tilting his head downwards. 

“-just to cover last month's rent at least. The landlord has been patient with me, but he cannot let me live here for free forever…” 

The economy had not just failed itself but just about everyone, a man without a job was bound to struggle with rent, but in the current state of things, one who was working struggled just as much. Of course he was thankful for the employment that he had finally secured, but the paycheck would only come in after rent was due once more, and if he were to be evicted, he likely would lose this position as well. 

“I know it is preposterous of me to ask for so much after you already let me find work and a place to call home, but you, who sees everything, surely see that I am doing what I can. I am thankful for everything you have given to me, praise be. May my eyes become yours.” 

He kissed his folded hands, opened his eyes and gazed at heaven, or at least in the right direction. Buildings blocked his view of the sky, and smog hid away what was left of it. But still, he knew what he was supposed to see, so he saw. 

The walls were thin, so even if he were to try, having breakfast in silence wasn’t an option. Wanting to make the best out of his living situation though, he had simply moved his table closer to the wall. Now, he could easily save money, since there was no reason to purchase a radio! His neighbor’s TV was more than loud enough to let every nearby resident hear the news with her. Social as she was, she even provided color commentary, although it was a bit harder to understand than the broadcasts due to the slur that came with drunkeness. Still, he enjoyed it and listened whenever he sat down in his kitchenette. It was almost as if he wasn’t alone for all of his meals! “Tension rises on the streets of the capital as Police President Greer refuses to enter peace talks with the leader of the riots. Yesterday’s march resulted in 17 dead, three of which are policemen. Demand in home surveillance and security technology soars as the rate of aggravated burglary rises sharply, experts are still debating as to what led to this sudden increase. President-” “They’re gonna drive up our rent again because of this stupid new security! I’d rather be killed by a damned thief than get my rent raised one more time!” The neighbor shouted, a tat too loudly for anyone listening in to understand the next news topic. When the TV could be heard again, the speaker had already moved on. “This is Good Morning News, with your host, Barbara Lodh. Violence in the capital-” 

If he wanted to get to work on time, he’d have to get going now and skip out on the details, but the headlines had already informed him enough to last until dinner. Not that it really mattered, since the news was pretty much the same every day anyways… 

He quickly scarfed down the rest of his food, chugged down his coffee in one gulp, which he immediately regretted, grabbed his ratty coat and left. 

Work was decidedly uneventful. His new coworkers were friendly and respectful, he loved working with them and had decided not to think about what had led to mass layoff that had gotten them all hired at the same time. Instead, he sent up a thankful prayer, happy that his wish for a stable job with pleasant peers had come true so quickly. Slowly, he felt like some of them were becoming his friends, and he looked forward to a future where he had enough money to invite them to dinner once. Maybe he’d even finally find love…

While getting ready to leave at the end of his shift, he wanted to go meet his landlord to ask for more time, he saw that someone had slipped something into his coat pockets. Multiple cards, all the size of regular business cards. Most out of paper, in black and white, with small eyes all over them. It made for a beautiful pattern and couldn’t have been too cheap, so it was a nice gift. One of them was made out of some kind of rifled plastic though. If you turned it in your hands, the big eye on it opened and closed! He was amazed by the kindness of whoever had left this for him, and quickly stored this special card in his wallet for safe keeping. He left with a smile on his face, gratitude in his heart and a new prayer on his mind. 

Arriving home felt weird. He had been very prepared to beg his landlord for an extension and to make all kinds of promises in the process, but instead he had gotten a text message from him shortly after work. Someone had donated a large sum to give the poor residents of his immediate neighborhood a break. His missing payments were covered with this. Rent also wouldn’t be rising as the lady next door had feared since the landlord was not planning on updating the security anytime soon. He said that it just was way too expensive with the ongoing price-gouging and that burglars usually stole from people rich enough to actually own anything stealable. 

Of course he had hoped and believed that his prayer would help, but he felt like this was oddly quick, even for the Omnivident One he worshiped. 

Not that he was complaining, no, he was very grateful. But what if he didn’t manage to convey this properly? The feelings of guilt would be overwhelming. Determined, he shook his head, as if he was trying to physically toss out any negativity, and then emptied out his pockets to take a second look at the business cards he had received earlier. They were still pretty in better light and once again summoned a smile onto his face. After some thinking, he decided to decorate his small apartment with them but to keep the special one in his wallet, as a good luck charm. 

To celebrate the occasion, he decided to finally eat the steak that had one day shown up on his doorstep, along with other groceries, all in a nice cooler bag and a lot of ice. It had been in his freezer ever since, since it had felt like a waste to just eat it for regular dinner… But today was perfect! There were so many things to celebrate! His job, his colleagues, his rent being paid, the fact that he had a home at all, the nice cards, everything. 

He fried it along with a sliced tomato and sat down to listen to the news he had missed in the morning, making sure to say his prayers before his meal. 

Some people injured by the protests yesterday had died in the hospital, upping the death count to 20. The deaths from today’s protests weren’t counted yet, as per usual. The mysterious burglaries were still an enigma, but appear to be all planned by the same group, since they share too many details to be unrelated. In the next city over, a brown bear had broken out of his enclosure on the mayor’s property and attacked multiple children playing on the street. They are injured, but not mortally wounded. 

So all in all, nothing out of the ordinary had happened. 

Before laying down to sleep, he knelt down again in that little space he had, and prayed. Mostly, he expressed his gratefulness for everything he had been granted, prayed for those who were lost, prayed for those who had died today, but he also made sure to express the last wish he had left in him: 

“I hope that your all-seeing eye also finds someone you see fit for me to love. I wish to share this life and faith with someone and am growing lonely… And I am not getting younger. I am thankful for everything you have given to me, praise be. May my eyes become yours.” 

He chuckled as he thought about his past wishes. A few years ago, he’d have never believed that he would pray for love, or that he’d pray at all, but by now this was the biggest hope he had. It had always worked before, so if the Omnivident One saw fit, there was no reason it would stop helping now. With nothing but good and happy thoughts in his mind, he fell asleep, excited for tomorrow. 

The fresh morning air tickled his nose, so he shuffled down a bit, looking for more warmth from his blanket. It wasn’t that thick, but still, he felt warm. It took him a bit to understand why lying in his bed now was such a new sensation. The heat was very localized, in the form of a leg over his, an arm across his chest and breath against his neck. Slowly, he turned his head to the side to see this source of warmness. The eye tattooed on her forehead looked right back at him. He sat up and smiled. She was beautiful. Slowly, trying to avoid waking her up, he crawled out of the bed to make breakfast for two. He had to be careful to not step on any glass shards, as they were all over his bedroom floor. 

If the Omnivident One finds a closed door, they force open a window, it seems.

#short story #my writing #writeblr #writblr #oc #original content

[sluttyten]

The way that my anxiety manifests itself by me binge writing a rant that just loops around on itself

dang I hit the tag limit and I was still going smh

tldr my boss offered me another promotion, several people have told me they think I’ll do good in it, but basically every ounce of my being is telling me not to, plus I’ve been wanting to leave my job for a while but I have a fear of disappointing the people I feel like rely on me at work. Also I don’t like where I’m at in life because I keep seeing people around me get like Jobs and Relationships and Happiness and be Real Adults and I know it doesn’t make me any less that I don’t have those things but I just feel like I’m stunted in my emotional/social development and am stagnant in life because this is not where the me of even four years ago imagined I would be

#I’ve been typing out for the last like 40 minutes this long long long thing just trying to wrap my brain around something #I’ve been offered another promotion and I don’t want it #I lowkey want to leave my job but I don’t know what I want to do next #several people I work with including one of my favorite managers and one of the other people that I work with every single day and that I #like a lot is also possibly leaving and my friend that I work with is also basically leaving #so like….. #. I’m just hearing a lot of reasons to leave #so i was typing this out just to like get my thoughts on paper so I could kinda see what I’m thinking and maybe try to work through some of #theses knots of my anxiety about what getting this promotion would mean for me #and like it’s basically all cons I can’t really see the pros #but even then once I’ve written through my whole stream of consciousness thing I’m still like I don’t know how to turn it down #and if I do turn it down then what? do I quit #quit* or do I stay stagnant where I am at this job? #like I’ve been getting tired of it but then I think I’ll feel bad if I leave because they have to find someone to replace me #but the thing is they already struggle to hire for morning shifts and I know that #but I know too that I can’t feel bad about leaving if I do #I just have to find the next thing for me #but I’ll feel so guilty and my manager will try to say all the right things to me to get me to stay and damn #I don’t know how to break up with my job #but for sure I’ll cry when I do have this face to face convo with him #like bruh texted me to offer me the promotion instead of doing this face to face initially #and when I asked if I could think about it he told me I have until Monday like fuck dude I curled myself into a stress ball and started #crying when I read that plus the compliments trying to convince me to take it he sent afterwards #like my mom says she think I can do it and my boss says that and the girl I’ll be replacing says that but why the fuck do I just feel like #an empty pit when I think of taking this position? #I tried it out like that’s what my position is right now is basically training for this and I haven’t really liked this position but I don’t #fucking know how to express that to the people in charge because I have a fear of disappointing others apparently #like I lowkey knew it but in my stream of consciousness word vomit earlier I like definitely came to that realization #also lately I’ve just really felt that I don’t like where I’m at in life #and it’s definitely got everything to do with me seeing my best friend basically moving in with her boyfriend and seeing my brother moving

[thestruidora]

Landslide

The Avengers (MCU) Fanfiction

Rating: Explicit

WARNINGS: This story will contain but it’ll not be limited to explicit 18+ content including Obsessive Behavior, Smut, Shower Sex, Edging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Fluff, Oral Sex, thigh riding, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Dominance, Submission, Knotting, Scenting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Rutting, Rut Sickness

Category: F/M

Pairings: Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov

Summary: Steve was never quite sure if he truly was an alpha. Genetically he should be, coming from a long line of alpha males. But due to the several health conditions in his youth, his poorly functioning body never presented. But now, because of the serum reacting to his true designation, a terrible case of rut sickness takes hold of the super soldier, threatening his life. Being a beta, Natasha can’t offer him what he needs, and since omegas are rarer today then ever, she is forced to hire a foreign girl to tend to Steve during these desperate times.

Author’s notes: Did y'all miss me? Yeah, I'm sure you didn't.

If anyone is interested in getting to know the magical music genre called forró, I chose a couple of classics that I feel like definitively played on the reader's first and only June Party: O Xote das Meninas Xote Dos Milagres Cintura Fina Morena Tropicana

Shout outs: @captainchrisstan, @keenkiddeputynickel, @danidv011, @ballyhoobarnes, @pophbfdsxa, @crashbarbie, @readermia, @musicnowandforever661, @bianaguipa, @deezy-061 Thank you so much for your guy’s support!

For those who missed it: Chapter One >> Language Barrier Chapter Two >> Bilingual Chapter Three >> Miscommunication

Chapter Four

Gibberish

She can still remember the laughter. The giggling that came from the back of her throat as she threw her head back, a smile full of teeth spread through her lips. The exhilaration of being with her friends, dancing her heart out.

It was her favorite time of the year. The sounds of the June Party moving on her feet. The rhythmic vibrations of the music's beat coursing through her. The songs, the speaking, the dancing: all at once ringing in her ears. One of her very first alcoholic drinks running through her veins along with all the spinning making her dizzy.

She was the happiest she’s ever been.

Every year her older cousins would travel to the countryside of Bahia's state, where the June festivities were the most elaborate. Her mom, so controlling, so protective, would never let her go. But on the year of her 14th birthday, she begged a little more strongly, pleaded a little more fervently, and now there she was.

It was so much more than she could ever have imagined. Bigger, louder, an explosion of newness to her senses. A big contrast to her secluded life in the city, because everybody knows that being a woman is hard, but being an Omega is harder.

Her mom was mated only a few hours after presenting, a few hours into her first heat, to a man she barely knew and definitely did not love. But still, she was one of the lucky ones. She could have been robbed, kidnapped and trafficked. Because Omegas are rare and the demand is huge, so presenting as one was as good as a death sentence.

But she was still young, she still got time.

And now, finally outside of her mom's vigilant eyes, with her girlfriends dancing by her side and the pulse of the *forró guiding her body she could allow herself to be carefree.

“Rapaz, que secura!” Lana screamed, complaining about the heat.

“É, tá um calor desgraçado.” Gabriela agreed, fanning herself with her hands, droplets of sweat trickling down her forehead and into her exposed cleavage.

Y/N simply laughed at her friends, they were a couple years older than her, but not necessarily more mature. Of course it was hot, they’ve been dancing for a long time, and even in the open space with the night air hanging over them, the place was so crowded that they would barely move while trying to get to the open bar.

She watched as the girls got their beverages, gobbling them down as if they were the first drinks they had in ages. But suddenly, the permanent smile that had been plastered on her face throughout the night died, something curious shifting inside of her. It was a unique feeling, one she never experienced before. It had started as a tightness in her lower abdomen, but it was growing into a sharp pain.

“Você tá bem?” Lana asked if she was ok, noticing the grimace in her features.

She tried to shake her head yes, but it came out the exact opposite as she doubled down on herself, her hands pressing on her stomach as she frowned, the pain becoming unbearable. Were these cramps? Was she about to get her period in the middle of this party?

But no, it wasn’t that. Somehow in the back of her mind, she knew this was different. She had begun to sweat, but not from the crowd or the dancing, there was this intense hotness forming within her.

She noticed a couple of men standing on the edges of the party space, in the shadows, almost camouflaged. Their eyes were predatory, fixated on her, they shined with a sinister glow, reflecting the flickering red light of the bonfire. Her friends called to her, guiding her to walk across to one of the tables, helping her sit down. When she looked again, the men were gone. Was she going mad?

“A gente vai ver se encontra Ibuprofeno, fica aí.” Gabriela said this time, or was it Lana again? They left, said something about looking for painkillers, she wasn’t paying attention, the pain was too much and so were the smells. All of the sudden, she felt like she could smell every single thing and every single one in the whole place.

She could smell the perfume, and the liquor, the sweet and the savory foods, altogether but also individually, it was overwhelming. She could smell the people, not their body wash or their shampoo, but their true scents. Some were warm and some were cold, some too strong and others too bland. And then there were two that were getting closer, too close, and these stung in her nostrils. Her vision had gone blurry and she couldn’t tell much of what was happening around her at that point, but she knew she wasn’t alone.

Shaking from the pain, shivering even though she was burning up, she looked up just fast enough to get a look at the two men from before, standing right behind her. One of them covered her eyes with his hand and the other covered her mouth. A muffled scream and a couple of weak punches were all she could do before they pulled her up from her chair, completely immobilizing her.

She trashed and struggled about, but to no avail. They were big and strong and she was small and frail.

“Shhh, Omega.” One of them whispered in her ear, and as if under a spell, she did just what was asked of her, her free will hushed. Something about his voice, and their touch, turned the pang in between her legs into a tingle.

And that’s when she knew: she had presented and this was her first heat.

They dragged her pliable body into the woods of the rural countryside, the sway of the forró getting left behind, her mother’s voice playing on a loop inside her head, “Be careful”, she always said.

Everything went dark, she could only make out flashes of information. The roughness of their hands and the graveness of their voices as they spoke to each other, laughing to themselves about how much she was worth, the way they sniffed at her neck, exhaling with satisfaction.

At some point, the grass of the forest turned into asphalt underneath her feet, and she was blindfolded and tied up, her lips taped as she was thrown into the back of a car. She could only whimper, her heat burning inside of her.

Shifting in and out of conciseness, she couldn’t tell how long had passed, couldn’t differentiate hours from days anymore. From time to time she would feel the prick of a needle going into her arm, and then it was all darkness again. She remembered being cold, shivering about as more rough hands grabbed at her. Were these the same ones from before or no? Had Lana or Gabriela reported her missing? Was anyone coming for her?

Eventually, it all stopped.

There was a cushiony softness below her, a thin sheet of fabric above her. When Y/N carefully tried to open her eyes, for the first time in what seemed like forever, she was greeted by light. Not the warm sunshine that often peeked through the windows of her bedroom in the mornings, but a cold, harsh light that came from a singular light bulb attached to the ceiling.

No longer tied or muzzled, she slowed sat up in the single bed, looking around. There was nothing covering her figure but the bedding, not even underwear. She found herself in a tiny room: four concrete white walls, a small barred window and a closed door.

Her heat was over, she could feel it, no more fire burning in her loins. She disentangled herself from the bed sheet, getting up too quickly, ignoring her nakedness and the dizziness, heading straight for the door. It was locked, of course.

Finally feeling sober enough to allow the rage to bubble up inside, she began to furiously bang on the door with clenched fists, kicking it, screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Hey!” A male voice boomed just outside, appearing suddenly, as if he was already waiting right there. “Yapma!” He hit the metal of the door, hard, making it shake slightly.

She retreated, startled, analyzing the situation. She had no idea what he had said, but gathering from the brutality with which it was uttered, it couldn't have been good. She didn't even know where she'd been taken, but she had an idea why.

More male voices were spoken on the other side of the wall, in that language she did not know. Something electronic beeped, then it let out a subtle ping sound, and just like that the door was sprung open. Two men walked in, the first thing she noticed was the gun one of them was carrying, while the other came in with a paper file in his hands. She backed away into the corner of the room, trying to cover her exposed chest and genitals with her hands, their big Alpha bodies taking over the space, making her feel even more intimidated.

“Nasıl hissediyorsun?” The one with the file said to her, his words sounding like a reserved recording to her brain. He was older, maybe in his late forties, greying hair at the top of his head, a light blue suit framing his ample shoulders.

When she didn’t answer, simply stood there against the wall, trying to control her labored breathing and the sheer fear that had taken over her body, causing even her inner organs to shake, he gave her a once over, opening the file and scanning through whatever was written there.

“Brazil, huh?” He arched one of his brows. “Can you understand me now?” He asked her, deliberately enunciating every word.

Y/N swallowed the sigh that was trying to leave her lips, staring at the gun, wide-eyed.

“Dumb bitch.” The man in the suit murmured to himself, snapping a finger in her face, getting her attention. “You’ve been on sedatives for a long time, little one. How are you feeling?” He said it as slow as he could, as if speaking to an animal. “Do you got a tummy-ache or a headache?” He rubbed his belly while saying ‘tummy’ and touched his temples while saying ‘head’.

She only frowned at him, a crease forming in between her eyebrows. He scoffed, leaning forward, letting his light-colored eyes roam over the valley of her breasts.

“Or maybe you’re just cranky cause you didn’t get no Alpha dick inside that tight little pussy yet.” Before he could finish his words, she was already propelling the whole weight of her body into her closed fist as she punched him in the face, fear turning into fury.

“Oh!” He growled, covering his bleeding nose, quickly walking away from her, face contorted in pain. “Shoot her!” He yelled at the other man, who promptly pointed his gun at her.

“Não!” She shouted out, closing her eyes and attempting to protect her face with her hands. A blunt sound echoed in the room and she felt something sharp go into her leg. Before she had enough time to come to the conclusion that it was tranquilizer dart, her eyes rolled back into their sockets and blackness welcomed her once again.

*

Five years had passed with her locked in that place, slowly forgetting where her mom’s face wrinkled the most when she was angry, or the exact shade of her eyes, the particular timbre of her voice. Y/N was slowly going mad, losing all hope of ever being rescued by the hero that always came to her in her dreams.

She was fourteen when she was taken, highly prized for her young age and virginity. They tried to sell her to the highest bidder many times, but she fought like an Alpha. Biting, roaring at anyone that came too close. Some of the men even began to doubt she was a real Omega, but ever so often her heat came and it reminded them. Emir, the big boss of the operation, sometimes would come to her doorstep during those times, tap at door and use his Alpha voice, laughing when she had to bit her own lips to control the moans his presence was causing.

But in the end, she wasn’t genetically compatible with anyone, and even those that wanted her for her fierceness were disappointed to find that her DNA did not match with theirs. A part of her was happy she had never been sold and probably never would be, just for the simple satisfaction of knowing that her body wouldn’t give those men any profit.

So there she stayed, locked up, imprisoned, hearing the sounds of the other girls crying in their rooms while she got on her tiptoes, trying to catch glimpses of the outside world through her only window, waiting.

It had been a while since she last saw Emir when the door made it’s telltale beep and was opened by him, but this time, he wasn’t alone.

“Hello there, my Latin beauty.” He smiled an evil smile at her, but she didn’t pay it any mind, focused on the redhead woman that was beside him, looking at Y/N with sorrow in her eyes. “See, Widow? I told you my girls are gorgeous, look at her.”

The woman let a displeased noise at his words, coming closer to Y/N, who gave her a distrustful look.

“Hi, I’m Natasha. What’s your name?”

“It’s Y/N.” Emir answered for her.“Oh, and she doesn’t talk.”

“Excuse me, what do you mean?”Natasha turned to him, her short red locks moving with her.“She’s mute?”

“Nah, she just doesn’t know any English.”

“Oh.” She gave the girl one more pitiful stare, but Y/N felt like she was looking right through her.

*

Leaving the facility was like a dream and a nightmare all at the same time. While finally being free was wonderful, Y/N knew that such freedom would come at a cost. The woman, Natasha Romanoff, wasn’t the best at Portuguese, but knew enough of it in order for them to communicate.

Y/N didn’t say much when they gave her a suitcase full of brand-new clothes and guided her out of that God-forsaken place. She didn’t say a word when a dark-haired man tried to take the suitcase from her hands, Natasha said his name was James and that he was only trying to be chivalrous, something about the 1940’s that she didn’t quite understand.

She remained quiet as Natasha tried her best to explain to her that a man’s life was at stake, that Captain America was dying of a terrible rut sickness, and that he was compatible with her and her alone. That yes, she had been bought like cattle, but it was for noble reasons, because Steve Rogers was an honorable man, a hero and his destiny was in her hands.

She kept all of her thoughts to herself as Natasha pulled up a ‘Rut Companion’ contract, stipulating that once Y/N had served her purpose and Mr. Rogers was out of danger and well, she would receive a large sum of money and could walk away from all of this, go anywhere she wanted and do whatever she pleased. Even after signing it, she resigned herself to silence.

And of course, she didn’t say anything when they boarded a jet to the United States, not even a word about the fact that she was actually fluent in English.

Please feel more than welcome to request your name to be tagged and do check out my Patreon to get your own custom made story!

#STEVE ROGERS IMAGINE #STEVE ROGERS FANFICTION #CAPTAIN AMERICA IMAGINE #MCU IMAGINE #MCU FANFICTION #CAPTAIN AMERICA FANFICTION #IMAGINE ABO #STEVE ROGERS ABO #STEVE ROGERS ALPHA #READER OMEGA #STEVE ROGERS X READER #CAPTAIN AMERICA X READER #ALPHA BETA OMEGA #STEVE ROGERS SMUT #CAPTAIN AMERICA SMUT #CHRIS EVANS #MCUFAM #AVENGERS ENDGAME #AVENGERS IMAGINE #AVENGERS FANFICTION #landslide chapter 4

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Prompt idea: Geralt gets a contract for a monster that has been sighted nearby. When he tracks it down, he is surprised to find mothman!Jaskier who (much like actual mothman) has an ass that won’t quit.

?

I just want you to know that Mothskier now lives in my head rent free 24/7. I love him. I would die for him. This is my new favorite emotional support au.

2k-ish words - please feel free to shove comments through the bars of my enclosure, I would really like that

art by the ever-wonderful @mawbwehownets, whose drawing of Mothskier made me legit cry.

tw: mild injury, brief blood mention, strangers to lovers

---

“So what you’re saying,” Geralt raises an eyebrow slowly, curious, “Is that you need me to catch a monster that’s half man and half moth?”

“Yup.”

“Alright,” Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. The frustrated Witcher takes a slow breath to calm and center himself, before he ends up botching the entire contract-writing process. Humans tend to grow attached to the strangest monsters sometimes, and apparently this mysterious local being was no different. “Let me get this totally straight, so there are no mistakes or misunderstandings. You want me to capture this man-moth and get it out of your woods, but you don’t want me to kill it?”

“He’s called the Mothman, and he’s pretty damn stubborn about sticking around,” the aging farmer corrects Geralt with a little frown. Then his expression shifts and he smiles in a way that seems almost apologetic. “We were hoping you could find a way to relocate him without hurting or killing him, Master Witcher.”

“That’s completely possible, if he isn’t attached to this specific patch trees by any magical or biological means. You said his natural habitat is just… the forest?”

“As long as there's an abundance of pine around he seems pretty happy. Before he came to live with us, Mothman lived in a heavily forested area up the coast; or at least that’s what the historical records and local mythology seem to indicate.”

“That’s actually pretty helpful information to have on hand, I’m impressed,” Geralt nods. “Alright, Mr. Stevens. I promise to relocate the poor thing without killing or maiming him, and I’ll be sure to take him somewhere far enough away that your crops won’t be in danger. Thanks for calling me first instead of just going straight to an extermination service.”

“Honestly, Master Witcher,” the farmer sighs and readjusts his dirty baseball hat, “If it weren’t for the mischief he’s been getting into lately, we would have let him stick around until spring. I hate to admit it to a man as strong and stern-faced as yourself, but the poor creature is almost… adorable at times.”

“Well that’s a first,” Geralt chuckles, honestly amused by the situation he’s found himself in. “A monster being referred to as ‘adorable’ rather than ‘terrifying’. I’ve never heard such a thing in my many years of life.”

“Then you’d better prepare yourself, Sir Geralt. He’s got a pair of big blue puppy-dog eyes that’ll knock you on your ass if you aren’t careful. And that’s coming from a man who raised three daughters with dimples.”

“Hmm. Fuck.”

---

Geralt knows enough about moths to come up with a plan he thinks will work.

Before he heads into the woods to find and capture the poor wandering creature, the Witcher takes a detour through the lighting section of the nearest Lowe’s.

---

Unfortunately for Geralt, the farmer was right about the power of Mothman’s puppy dog eyes, which are big and blue and begin to water as soon as the Witcher’s net knocks him to the ground. The creature lies in a whimpering tangle of limbs beneath the heavy, magically enhanced restraints. Geralt takes an opportunity to look at what the locals called "a cryptid".

Mothman has a long, lithe body that's covered in a light layer of grey-brown fur, but his hair resembles that of a human’s, falling over those enormous blue eyes in a lovely chestnut fringe. When Mothman sees the swords on Geralt’s back he cries out in panicked recognition and tries to pull his arms up far enough to shield his face. The lamp Geralt used to lure him into the clearing is still bathing him in a pool of yellow light; it’s almost pretty for a monster, Geralt notes.

As the Witcher takes a step forward, the cryptid squeaks and buries his face against his own shoulder. His entire frame is trembling.

“Hey there, shhhhh,” the Witcher murmurs quietly. He drops into a squat and holds both hands up to show Mothman that they’re weapon free. Tears are now falling freely down the creature’s surprisingly human face; whoever or whatever this is, they are likely some kind of Fae. “I’m not here to hurt you, I just want to get you back through the veil.”

“Liar,” Mothman huffs. His voice has a surprisingly musical quality to it and Geralt is now sure of his Fae parentage (or grand-parentage).

“I promise I’m not lying,” Geralt reassures him, slowly crawling forward. When he reaches for the nearest corner of the net, he feels all of Mothman’s muscles go tense. “I’m going to lift this up and I am going to restrain you, but I swear that I’m not going to kill you. I wish to cause as little distress as possible. Is that alright, Mothman?”

The creature hisses and yanks his foot back away from where Geralt’s hand had nearly touched it. “Jaskier.”

“Hmm?” Geralt glances up, raising an eyebrow.

“My name is Jaskier,” the Fae repeats, glaring up from between the sections of woven rope that make up the heavy net. “Not Mothman.”

“My apologies, Jaskier,” Geralt bows his head. He words his introduction carefully, in case this thing can manipulate his name like others of his kind: “You may refer to me as Geralt.”

“That’s your real name,” Jaskier states. The Witcher’s head snaps up.

“How did you know?”

“Hmm,” Jaskier sticks his tongue out as he mimics the sound Geralt made earlier. “Not telli-AH! Stop! Oh go- gods, stop! Please!”

Geralt drops the short section of rope he’s trying untangle from around Jaskier’s ankle and snaps his eyes upwards, already searching for damage. “What’s wrong!?”

“My wing!” Jaskier bawls. His scent spikes out through the clearing, sharp with panic and pain. The creature’s chest begins to shake more violently than before, his shoulders shuddering with the rising force of his sobs, “It’s t-t-torn! Oh gods, my wing! Sir Witcher, p-please!”

Geralt freezes, his gaze settling on the torn section of Jaskier’s large, furry wing. It’s a nasty wound near one of the joints, a faint trickle of barely-luminescent blood has already dried around the edges. Jaskier tries to flutter it a little and screams in agony when the muscles shift too suddenly, shrilly enough that Geralt needs to cover his hypersensitive ears. The Witcher's heart crashes down into his boots; based on the way the shivering Fae has gone pale and silent, the pain is too much for him to process. He’s gone into shock.

A torn wing is exactly the kind of thing Geralt had promised the farmer (and the collective of townspeople he represented) wouldn’t happen to the peaceful moth creature if they hired a Witcher instead of an exterminator. He sighs and gives the strange being another once-over. “Everything's alright, Jaskier. You’re going to be alright. I’m so, so sorry that you've been wounded. We’ll get you out of this net and get you something for the pain, but it’s going to hurt a little to untangle you. Stay still, don’t struggle, and it’ll be over soon.”

“J-Just kill me,” Jaskier pants. He’s continuing to hyperventilate and Geralt needs him to calm down before he passes out. The Fae reaches a hand for the dagger at Geralt's waist and the Witcher twists out of reach with a frown. Jaskier sobs again, fingers still seeking, “I might n-n-never fly a-again so just k-kill me!”

“Breathe with me, Jaskier,” the Witcher instructs, forgoing patience and cutting through the net with that same dagger. He scoops Jaskier up into his arms, ignoring the keening sound at the back of Jaskier’s throat when his wing is jostled, and rushes the Fae to his truck, tucking him into the passenger’s seat and wrapping him in a large, fluffy blanket. “I’m taking you to my friend. She’s an expert at healing magical creatures and I'm certain that she'll get your wing fixed in no time.”

Jaskier doesn’t give an answer. When Geralt looks up into the creature’s face again, the injured Fae has already passed out.

---

Jaskier moves with all the grace of a newborn foal as he explores the room Geralt has provided for him. His wing has been inspected, treated, and bandaged by a rather scary sorceress named Yennefer, who glared at the Witcher the entire time she was caring for him. She had also taken one of Geralt’s old t-shirts and cut an enormous hole in the back for Jaskier’s wings to fit through. The shirt’s bottom hem falls to the middle of his thighs and the thick black material is softer than anything he’d ever felt before.

He hears a knock on the door and calls out, “It’s open!”

Geralt enters slowly, bearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a mug of tea. “I brought you some last minute supplies and - uh… I brought you some tea. Yen always likes some before she goes to sleep and I figured since this was a new place and new places can be scary that I should-”

“Thank you,” Jaskier interrupts, smiling shyly. His antennae twitch happily as he takes the offerings from Geralt's hands and the Witcher watches them with wide eyes. Jaskier carefully sets the pajamas and the tea on the nightstand before turning back to look at Geralt. “I will… see you tomorrow?”

Geralt gives one sharp nod. “Hmm.”

“Goodnight,” Jaskier sing-songs, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as Geralt exits.

From the other side of the closed door, Jaskier’s superior hearing picks up the Witcher’s final whisper: “Goodnight, Jaskier. I will always be sorry for causing you pain.”

The next morning he meets Geralt at the breakfast table, refreshed and ready to learn about the human world. He’s summoned a glamour in order to hide his more Moth-like traits, the only things that remain of his true nature are his wings and antennae; his fur is gone and he’s dressed in a pair of sweatpants and that same old shirt. The Witcher offers him a bowl of fruit and mug of something sweet-smelling. Jaskier glares into the mug with a slight pout to his lips before finally asking, “What is this?”

“Hot chocolate.”

Jaskier takes a sip and his antennae flutter, twitching happily as he swallows the best drink he’s ever had in his long life. He eats a strawberry from the bowl and slowly works his way through the hot chocolate, eyeing Geralt warily as the Witcher moves through the familiar kitchen to make his own breakfast.

“Where is Yennefer?”

“She went home,” Geralt shrugs.

“She isn’t your mate?”

“N-No,” Geralt sputters, turning to stare at the nervous young Fae. “Why would you think that?”

“You smell like each other.”

“We spend a lot of time together,” Geralt shrugs again. “Good friends, that’s all.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier mimics his host for a second time. Rather effectively by the annoyed twitch at the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “Just wondering.”

“Anything else you’re curious about?”

“Why don’t you have more lights?”

“Huh?”

“Lights,” Jaskier gestures around the minimalistic layout of Geralt’s open-concept kitchen/living room and its distinctive lack of lamps. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans forward against the dark marble countertop. The pout has gone from 'slight' to 'full-bore' and Geralt is clinging desperately to his braincell with how cute it looks. “It’s no fun.”

“You really like lamps, don’t you?” the Witcher replies, mouth dry. Jaskier huffs and takes another sip of his hot chocolate, antennae flickering back and forth in irritation. Geralt bites his lip to hide a smile; it’s too fucking cute, which is an odd thought for a Witcher to have.

“So what if I do enjoy a nice lamp or five in my living space?” Jaskier argues. "I'm a Moth of taste."

“No matter,” Geralt laughs quietly. “Finish your drink before it gets cold.”

---

Jaskier stays with Geralt for a few weeks while his wing heals, and for a creature whose sole interest seems to be fancy light fixtures, the Fae becomes a source of light in Geralt's own world. They go to a nonhuman friendly second-hand store to find Jaskier some more clothes and Geralt discovers the cryptid's love for oddly patterned shirts in bright colors. Jaskier chooses several to fill out his closet, as well as a sweater two-sizes too large in deep black (Geralt tries his best not to attach any meaning to this choice), a few pairs of pants, and a jean jacket that he declares, "Can be altered."

They watch movies together and make food together - Jaskier is always incredibly impressed by the way the automatic coffee maker works, and how easily Geralt can control the flames of the stove. Jaskier also follows the Witcher along on less dangerous hunts and helps bandage him up after worse ones, always there with a smile and a little kiss over the cleaned-up wound.

“It really is magic,” Jaskier always insists, lips pink and shining from licking them as he concentrates. "It makes you heal faster."

Geralt realizes one night - two weeks into Jaskier’s stay, as he leans against the doorframe and watches the strange creature’s even breathing - that he has gone and done the stupidest thing a Witcher can do: fall in love with a pretty, temperamental young Fae. Head over fuckin’ heels, actually.

So he makes a decision.

---

The next evening, after the dinner dishes have been cleaned and put away, Geralt herds Jaskier down the hall to the guest room. Those entrancing blue eyes blink up at him in obvious confusion. “Bedtime already?”

“No, not quite. I just- I made you… uh…”

“Do you have a surprise for me?” Jaskier asks, used to the Witcher's issues with verbalizing.

Geralt nods, relieved and thankful for the Fae’s steadfast understanding. “Do you want to cover your eyes or should I just open the door and show you?”

“I’ll close my eyes,” Jaskier smiles, covering his eyes with both hands. Geralt finds it adorable, as Jaskier always is, and allows himself a matching grin as he swings the door open. The ceiling light is off but Geralt has built a blanket fort at the center of the room and surrounded it with fairy lights of all colors and sizes. Inside the blanket fort is a mass of blankets and pillows; Jaskier has the odd habit of building nests - Geralt jokingly calls them cocoons - and sleeping in those on the floor instead of on the very comfortable mattress the Witcher has provided.

“Open them,” Geralt urges.

Jaskier pulls his hands away and Geralt watches as his pupils go huge and wide. Jaskier's face breaks out in the sunniest, most blindingly happy smile Geralt has ever seen. He turns and throws his arms around the Witcher, his wings fluttering behind him and his antennae twitching and flicking above his head. He tries desperately to speak but only manages a half-snuffled little “I’m-” before bursting into tears of joy.

Geralt just holds him, letting his arms fold carefully around Jaskier’s waist, just beneath his wings.

"I just wanted you to know that, if you wanted to stay, there would be room for you. Your room, if you want it."

"I do," Jaskier smiles, burying his face in the Witcher's neck. "I'd love to stay. I'd love nothing more than to spend my days going on adventures with you."

"Well then," Geralt gathers all of his courage and presses a soft kiss to the crown of Jaskier's head. He's met with happy spasms from the antennae so he does it again. And again. Moving from the top of the Fae's head to his cheeks and then his mouth - pretty and pink and pouting and so worth the trouble. "I suppose we can get started on our next adventure tomorrow."

#mothskier #mothman jaskier #cryptid jaskier #creature jaskier #witcher geralt #the witcher netflix #geraskier #geraskier ficlet #geraskier fic #geraskier fluff #bouncey's endless getting together fics #bouncey's endless au collection #LYSSA WHY #WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME #art and fic #collab sorta #prompt fill #geraskier prompt fill #bouncey answers #ahhhhhhhh #mothskier!!!!

[cherienymphe]

Stranger Beside Me (Steve Rogers x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, forced pregnancy, mentions of abortion, toxic relationships, domestic abuse, I don’t know if I’ve ever written anything this angsty in my life

DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU

Here is the long awaited boyfriend!Steve fic.

summary: you and Steve have the perfect relationship, and you want to keep it that way. It’s why he can never discover your secrets, but your secrets wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for his own.

~

The first time you got pregnant, you had never been more disappointed with yourself in your life. Not even failing a major class during college had made you feel as bad as you did when you were staring at that little plastic stick, trying and desperately failing to convince yourself that you were just seeing double. How could you be so careless? How crazy it was to think that a small insignificant piece of plastic could change your mood and life so drastically.

You had sat down on the toilet and remained there for hours. So many thoughts were swirling in your head, possibilities that you didn’t even want to entertain but you found yourself doing so anyway. Eventually, you came to a conclusion that was easy to say: you weren’t ready for a baby. Admitting and accepting that wasn’t hard at all. The hard part was the question that followed. 

What were you going to do about it?

You had struggled with that particular part for days, and you were grateful more than ever that Steve was on a mission. You knew what he would do if he found out, what he would say, and it was an argument you were unprepared to have. You weren’t ready to break his heart like that and face the possibility that this could be the end for you.

Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, was the best boyfriend anyone could ask for. You were Pepper’s stylist, hired for special events, and having been in town for a company party thrown by Tony Stark himself, that was where you met Steve. The attraction was mutual, but you were a woman of the world, constantly jetting off to whatever celebrity needed you at the moment. A stationary girl trying to have a relationship with a superhero would be hard enough, let alone one whose feet never remained on the ground.

And that was what you told the blond avenger after the second time he slept over at your place. The first time, a week after the party, was only meant to be a one time thing. At least, that was your impression, but Steve liked you, and no matter how much you pretended you didn’t, you liked him too. Before you knew it, you were leading him into your apartment for a second time, mouth starved and hands searching. 

He was the most attentive lover you’d ever been with, touching you like you were nothing less than fine china, desperate for the taste of you on his lips. He held you like he was afraid to break you, and considering that the man was a super soldier, you understood that, but still. His touch, combined with the way he looked at you, made you feel like you were literally the only woman in the whole world. It was intense.

“I know,” he had sighed, staring up at the ceiling as you looked at him. “You just...make me feel so comfortable.”

You had frowned, never considering that. After all, this was only the second time you’d slept together. 

“I do?”

He turned to look at you, a small smile on his pink lips, blue eyes sparkling.

“Of course.”

You rolled over onto your stomach, resting on your forearms as he continued, watching as he reached out to brush a finger over the skin of your back.

“You don’t look at me like a superhero, but instead just some guy who is really great in bed.”

You let out a sheepish chuckle, dropping your head, and he joined you.

“Don’t feel bad. It’s surprisingly refreshing. It makes me feel like I have room to...be less than perfect,” he murmured.

Your eyes met his then, and despite the words never escaping his lips, they were front and center in his eyes, and you sighed.

“We would never work, Steve,” you whispered, surprised at how disappointed you sounded. “You’re always off saving the world, and I’m always off dressing it.”

He didn’t respond right away, mulling over what you said.

“Maybe that’s exactly why it would work,” he said, surprising you.

You frowned a bit before raising an eyebrow at him, curious as to how he came to that conclusion.

“I’ve tried to date. God knows I’ve tried to find a girl who wants Steve Rogers and not just the face of America…”

Steve sounded sad, maybe even a bit bitter.

“...but nevermind the fact that they only see the suit and shield, they’re always left to their cozy lifestyle while I'm off saving the world. They’re always waiting around for me, eating dinners alone, sleeping alone. Having a superhero boyfriend is never what they think it will be, never worth it, and while the breakup is expected, I still feel bad.”

Your heart clenched, and you found yourself scooting closer to him. He wrapped his big arm around you, pulling you into his chest, and his whole face shifted. He smiled at you, eyes hopeful.

“...but you? You’re running around the world almost as much as I am. By the time you even have time to miss me, I’ll already be there, and if not…”

He trailed off, but he didn’t need to say it. Your lifestyle wasn’t exactly compatible with a relationship. At least, not a conventional one anyway. Spending nights alone was normal for you, and having a boyfriend that wasn’t there half the time would hardly impact your lifestyle. 

You slowly returned his smile.

“Okay, Rogers. Maybe this could work.”

And work it did. 2 years and 7 months later, and the two of you were happier than ever. Tony was surprised that Steve found a girl who stuck around, and Pepper was surprised that you’d found someone who convinced you to settle down. You simply told her that Steve had made a convincing argument, but the truth was that Steve was genuinely the perfect boyfriend. You two talked whenever you could, and he had been right. By the time you even had time to miss him, he was somehow always there, knocking on the door of your apartment, doing so until he upgraded to waltzing through the door of your shared apartment. 

Steve treated you like a queen, constantly making you question how you got so lucky. He always kissed you like it was going to be the last time, and he made love to you like he was personally trying to drive you crazy with pleasure. You loved him, you loved him, you loved him. You had even told him first, and he had been sad because he had wanted to tell you first for a long time, and that made you sad. So you let him tell you, and then you said it back, and he’d made love to you like he never had before, and it was there, coming undone in his arms, that you told him you loved him again and again and again.

That was why he couldn’t find out you were pregnant. It would start an argument that would ruin you, ruin everything. Steve was hardly home, and you were no different, and while it was never a problem before, it was no environment to raise a baby in. This was the truth. This made sense. Your doctor agreed, and while Steve was off saving the world on an early weekday morning, you were doing what you felt was right.

The 2nd time you got pregnant, you weren’t just disappointed at your carelessness again, but you were also angry. It was no secret that Steve wanted a baby, probably since the first moment he saw you. You always noticed the way he looked at families, the way he smiled and waved at awestruck children. The man had probably come out of the womb ready to be a father, and you loved that about him. And it wasn’t like you didn’t want children too, you certainly did, but just not anytime soon.

You still had a thriving career, and so did he, and neither one of you seemed ready to give that up in the near future. A baby required sacrifice, and you weren’t ready for that yet, and if the way Steve readily took on missions was anything to by, neither was he. You knew that if he found out, he would fight to convince you to keep it, and you would fight to convince him that neither one of you were ready. Like before, you thought to yourself that it would start an argument that could very well be the end for you.

That was where the anger came in.

Why did you keep doing this? How did you keep doing this? Both of you had always been safe, never going without a condom, but after the first pregnancy, you had even gone on birth control too, paranoid and determined to be more responsible. Yet, here you were, pregnant again. You knew what this would do to your relationship, so how could you be so negligent again? It was as if you were subconsciously trying to ruin everything and you hated yourself for it.

Steve had not been away on a mission this time, and you immediately took all of the garbage out under the guise of cleaning the house. He seemed far more attentive that night than usual, but it could have just as easily been your own paranoia. His mouth covered yours in a heated kiss as he pressed his hips to yours, pulling a moan from you.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured into your mouth, pulling back before sliding into you again. 

Your legs were tight around his waist, and his hands were tight on yours. The only thing that filled the room was the sound of heavy moans and harsh breathing, occasionally interrupted by whatever Steve chose to say. It never not surprised you how much Steve enjoyed talking to you in bed. Praising you, degrading you, teasing you. He enjoyed making you squirm from more than just his cock.

“You know what would make you even more beautiful? Radiant?”

“What?” you breathed, hands running through his hair.

“A baby,” he mumbled, lips ghosting over your chin, making you freeze.

At first you thought that maybe he knew. Although there was no logical explanation for thinking that, you’d been very careful, you couldn’t help it. Your heart picked up the pace, but then you realized that Steve was just being Steve. He had mentioned children in passing, but it was done in the way that you mentioned children. Always in a future tense. It had never been like this, so straightforward and with a sense of urgency. 

He wanted a baby now.

“Come on,” you chuckled, trying to brush him off, attempting to press your lips against his.

He moved out of your reach, and you tried not to let it show how much you were bothered by this conversation. His blue eyes searched yours, a faint smile on his face as he hovered over you.

“I’m serious. Think about how beautiful you’d be, round and glowing with my child,” he continued, finally kissing you.

His hips snapped into yours, more force behind his thrusts, like the idea of you swollen with his child was the biggest turn on. You never even got a chance to truly voice your displeasure, a moaning and quivering mess until you finally came around him. Once your heart finally settled, you laid there, thinking about the fact that Steve wanted a baby now despite the fact that neither of your lifestyles could accommodate one. 

When he came back to bed after disposing of the condom, he pulled you into his arms, and you settled against him. He pressed his face into your hair, breathing you in, and you closed your eyes, feeling like the worst girlfriend in the world.

“I can’t wait til we never have to buy those again,” he whispered.

Your heart clenched, and you forced yourself to go to sleep by listing every reason you could think of as to why you were doing the right thing. A week later, Steve kissed you goodbye in the early hours of the morning before he had to leave on another mission. 2 hours later, you were in a doctor’s office doing what you felt was best.

The 3rd time you got pregnant, you were no longer disappointed. Not even angry, but just confused. You were leaning against the closed door of your bathroom, once again staring at that little piece of plastic with nothing but confusion. You were as careful as you could possibly be. After the 2nd pregnancy, you always triple checked to make sure that you never forgot your birth control. You made sure that the house was always stocked with condoms.

You didn’t understand it.

You had been startled by a knock on the door, and you hurriedly rushed to get rid of the test. You hadn’t realized how long you’d been in the bathroom, and Steve had started to get worried. At least, that was what he told you through the door.

“Are you okay?”

What a loaded question. Were you okay? Here you were, pregnant for the third time within a year and you couldn’t figure out how. Of course, it was obvious as to how, but it should have been very unlikely. You knew that condoms, even when paired with birth control, weren’t going to be 100% effective. You were an adult with common sense. That you understood. One unplanned pregnancy wasn’t the most ridiculous thing in the world. Shit happens.

Two within the same year still wasn’t absolutely crazy, but it was a little mind bending when you were more than careful.

But three? Three was concerning.

You opened the bathroom door with a soft smile, nodding at Steve as you stepped out.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He looked like he didn’t quite believe you, but being the great boyfriend that he was, he didn’t press you further.

“Okay. Breakfast is on the table. Come eat?” he offered, holding out his hand.

You took it and allowed him to lead you to the dining room. Breakfast was as it always was. Steve told you about the last mission he’d just gotten back from only days ago, and you told him about the latest celebrity going through a meltdown over a dress. You enjoyed these talks with Steve, these moments with just the two of you, and you weren’t ready to alter that in any way. Not yet. 

Sometimes you felt like the worst girlfriend in the world, wondering if you were being selfish for wanting it to remain just the two of you for a little while longer. You adored children, but having them wasn’t just some hobby. You would no longer be able to put yourself first, and with so much of your life still ahead of you, you weren’t ready to stop being selfish.

And that was okay.

What wasn’t okay was the lies. No matter how you tried to spin it, no matter how many justifications you made, you were lying to Steve. Perhaps in one of the worst ways possible. Sometimes you felt like you should tell him, but what purpose would it serve? Nothing could be done about the past, and he’d only end up hating you. That was what you were really afraid of. Having Steve stare at you like he didn’t even know who you were.

But you knew how Steve could be. How clouded his mind could get when it came to children and starting a family. The man enjoyed a simple life. He was nostalgic for what he felt he missed out on, and while there was nothing wrong with that, you knew that he wasn’t going to hang up the shield for it. Just like you weren’t going to put your career on pause for it, and you had no intentions of just letting some stranger raise your child. 

You knew that neither one of you were willing to sacrifice in order to raise a baby in the proper environment. That was why during breakfast, as you held Steve’s hand while you two talked and ate, you decided to go through with it for a third time.

The first time had been hard. You kept second guessing everything. You knew that it was the right thing to do, but was it the right thing to do without telling Steve? Without getting his input? Without even giving him the chance to love this baby before you snatched it away? Your body, your choice right? But was it really that black and white? Was any of this fair to him? 

The second time had been easier. You still hadn’t felt any better about it, but at least you weren’t going through an internal crisis. At least you knew what to expect, because that had been the most nerve wracking part, fear of the unknown. Afterwards, your mood wasn’t as sullen for as long as it was after the first time. You had moved past it fairly quickly, but after all, you had been sure it would be the final time. 

The third time wasn’t anything like that. The guilt still ate away at you, but it seemed more like a standard doctor’s visit. A routine checkup. That was what you told Steve it was. He had offered to take you, but you had declined, and he had sent you off with a lingering kiss. You went to get some coffee from Starbucks afterwards.

The months that followed were filled with the usual bliss that surrounded your relationship. You two went to Tony’s parties, occasionally hung out at the compound with the rest of the team, and Steve took you out whenever he was home. Despite your relationship ruining secrets, everything was perfect.

Almost.

“Everytime you come to one of my little soirees, I keep expecting to see you 4 months pregnant,” Tony said, making you bark a laugh.

Steve only chuckled, and you squeezed his hand, sending him a soft smile. The baby talk had increased as of late, but truthfully, it had been gradually increasing for pretty much a year. If it hadn’t been obvious before, it was now. Steve was ready to have children, and while it had been a topic that was only thrown into conversation here and there, you found yourself skimming over the subject at least once a week these days.

Surely you would get to a point where a serious discussion about it would be unavoidable. Steve loved you, and you were sure that you could talk him into waiting. After all, it wasn’t like you would be saying you never wanted kids. Just not now.

“I’m serious. All ‘Capsicle’ here talks about is kids. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the two of you had been trying for months,” the dark-haired man continued, taking a sip of his drink.

He was throwing his annual holiday party tonight, always placed in between Christmas and New Year’s, despite the fact that he threw parties on those days too. You just thought that Tony liked any excuse to party and drink.

“Sadly no,” Steve said, his tone surprising you. “We’re still just enjoying each other as much as we can. Right?”

He looked at you, and your smile faltered a bit, but you nodded. That was what you always told him whenever the topic came up. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Steve sounded bitter, upset even. You turned away from him, taking a sip of your champagne with a frown. You suddenly wondered if he knew, but that was easily dismissed. If Steve knew that you had secretly aborted 3 of his children, you’d be on the receiving end of more than just a strained smile and a passive aggressive tone. 

You worried that tonight would be the night where you’d have the big talk, where you’d have to come out and tell Steve to give you more time. It was wild to think that even though there was nothing wrong with waiting to have kids, you felt horrible about asking Steve to do so. Maybe it was because he’s so sweet? Or because he’s literally never asked you for anything else? Or maybe it was because you had deprived him of what he wanted three times over and the guilt was getting to you.

However, you weren’t able to do that. You hadn’t even realized that you had started to sway until the glass in your hand hit the floor, shattering upon impact. Steve had only a second to turn towards you before you were collapsing in his waiting arms. Against your will, you succumbed to darkness.

When you woke up, you were in the compound. You had been in the infirmary a handful of times so it was recognizable almost immediately. Nat was there when you woke up, and she sent you a small nervous smile.

“Well, hello sleepyhead. You gave us all quite the scare,” she murmured.

You hummed, briefly shutting your eyes as you pressed your hand to your head.

“Sorry. What...what happened?”

“You fainted,” she said, handing you the glass of water that was beside the bed.

You gratefully took it, gulping it down, surprised at how thirsty you were. You thanked her when you handed it back to her and was just about to ask her where Steve was when he strode through the door. His lips were pressed together, and you worried that he’d worried about you, but the sparkle in his eyes betrayed him, and you frowned.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Nat said before making to leave. “Take care of her, Steve.”

He was at your side just as the door shut behind her, and your frown deepened when a blinding smile spread over his lips. You were confused as he took your hand, keeping his lips there as he kissed it.

“Steve…?”

He shook his head.

“Sorry,” he said, sitting down next to you on the bed, facing you as he held your hand. 

The other reached out to brush over your cheek and across your jaw. Despite your confusion, you placed your hand on his, blinking at him, a bit unnerved by the look in his eye. 

You hadn’t seen that look since before you two officially became a couple.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Everything is more than okay.”

He leaned in to press his lips against yours, soft and loving, and you kissed him back. When he pulled away, he looked at you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen, like you’d break with one touch.

“You’re pregnant,” he told you.

Your lips parted as his words washed over you, and you struggled to find something to say.

“...what?”

He repeated it with a smile, kissing you again before pulling you into a hug, one you did not return. Everything after that was a blur. Tony came in to make sure everything was fine. Dr. Cho said you were 4 weeks along is what he told you. He’d offered his congratulations, Steve took you home and wasted no time before wrapping his arms around you.

His touch was gentle throughout the night, but it lingered as if he never wanted to stop touching you. You don’t know how many times he made you come around him, but Steve didn’t seem to care about your exhaustion. With his lips constantly attached to your skin, he only cared about getting drunk off the taste of you. You let him have you as much as he wanted. You let him rejoice in this, because it was the least you could do before you broke his heart. 

He was awake in the morning before you, and the smell of breakfast cooking made your stomach growl. Gratefully, you didn’t seem to have any morning sickness, but your stomach still twisted from something entirely different as you made your way to the kitchen. Steve looked like anyone’s dream as he stood there in a fitted t-shirt and pajamas, pushing food onto a plate for you.

“Morning,” you mumbled.

He looked up and approached you with a smile, pressing a kiss to your lips as he returned your greeting.

“Go sit down. I’ll bring you your food,” he told you.

Reluctantly, you did so. You were quiet as he joined you, and you started nibbling on your food.

“Sweetheart,” he scolded at the action. “You’re eating for two now. You need to eat all of it.”

He was right, and under different circumstances you would do as he encouraged, but there was no point in putting this off.

“Steve, I don’t want to have this baby.”

You hadn’t mean to say it so bluntly, but there was no easy way to say it. There was no sense in hesitating. Steve froze almost immediately, and you reluctantly met his eyes as he stared at you. He rested his forearms on the table, a small frown on his face. He looked equal parts floored and confused and hurt, and you sighed.

“...what?”

“We’re not ready,” you whispered.

Steve scoffed, shaking his head at you.

“Of course, we are,” he argued.

“So you’re ready to give up being Captain America?” you asked him.

He hesitated, and you nodded.

“...exactly. You’re not, and that’s okay, and I would never ask you to, but that’s what's going to be required if we’re going to start a family now. You like doing what you do, and I like doing what I do. Neither one of us are ready to put a stop to any of it, at least not for the time being.”

“To be fair, I save lives. There will always be some Hollywood starlet who needs a dress or the latest shoes,” he replied.

“Excuse me?” you scoffed, looking at him like he’d slapped you.

He suddenly huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he eventually said. “I’m just saying that putting that on hold for a few years will hardly impact you. You can always pick it up again like you never left.”

“And why am I the one who has to sacrifice, Steve? You aren’t the only superhero-!”

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry,” he cut you off as your voice started to rise, reaching for your hand.

He brushed his thumb along the back in what was meant to be a soothing getsure, but you were still a bit heated at the way he’d diminished your career. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I just… I know that it’s going to be difficult-.”

“It’s going to be more than difficult. We’re talking about a baby! Both of us need to be here,” you told him.

He heaved a sigh, staring at you.

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I don’t want to have a baby right now. Maybe in a few years, sure, but neither one of us are willing to sacrifice.”

You watched as his jaw ticked, eyes narrowing just a bit as he considered your words.

“So what does that mean?”

You crossed your arms over your chest as you leaned back, avoiding his eye.

“Y/N?”

“Steve-.”

“What the hell are you saying?”

You flinched, not used to Steve cursing, and you knew that he was angry. This very conversation was what you had tried so hard to prevent, and once again, you were cursing yourself for your negligence. How on earth did you manage to get pregnant again?

You stood from the table, trying to put off this fight for five more minutes, the same fight you’d been trying to prevent for a year. You and Steve hardly ever fought, but when you did, it was for the silliest of things. Things you’d both look back on and laugh at.

Not this.

You heard Steve follow you, and his grip on your wrist was hard as he pulled you to a halt. You spun around to face him like he’d lost his mind. You tried to get out of his hold, but he wasn’t budging. He knew what you were implying, what you planned to do, and he was angrier than you’d ever seen him.

“This is my decision,” you quietly told him, making his eyes darken. “You don’t have to agree with it, you don’t even have to like it, but you can’t make me go through with this pregnancy. Neither one of us are ready.”

“So I get no say?”

He tilted his head at you, and you blinked away tears.

“I don’t want this right now, Steve. I don’t, and I’m not going to change my mind, so what do you suggest we do?”

His face softened a bit, and he stepped closer.

“Let’s give it a try. Don’t put your career on hold, okay? We’ll try to make it work-.”

He cut himself off as you started to shake your head.

“No. I’m not going to take a gamble with our child’s livelihood. There should be no ‘trying to make it work’. When you bring a baby into this world, everyone involved should be 100% on board. Things need to start moving into place to accommodate that child. This is not how it should be.”

Steve swallowed, nostrils flaring as you argued, and you sighed again. The silence that followed was heavy, thick with tension and anger and an impending sense of doom. You loved Steve, but not enough to force yourself into having a baby for him. Your chest ached, and you wanted to cry.

“If...if this means that you don’t want to be with me anymore, then I understand, but… I’m not having this baby.”

He let you go, crossing his arms over his chest, and you stood there, waiting for the verdict. His tongue poked at the inside of his cheek, jaw moving as he grinded his teeth.

“We’re not breaking up.”

He continued before you could feel an ounce of relief.

“...and you’re not getting rid of my child.”

You rolled your eyes, swallowing another sigh as you rubbed your forehead.

“Steve-.”

“Do you hear me? You are not getting rid of my child,” he spat.

He stepped closer, and you found yourself narrowing your eyes at him.

“I went through a great deal of trouble to make sure you got pregnant in the first place, and you think I’m just going to let you get rid of it? Let all of it be in vain?”

His words sucked the air out of you, and your eyes widened as the gravity of them fully hit you. Your mouth parted, but no words came out because what could you say? You couldn’t even describe the shock and horror and disgust that tore through you in that moment, and you slowly took a step back from him.

You raised your hands in front of you as your mind whirled, eyes focused on the floor as you blinked. His confession finally put things into perspective. His words put the pieces together, and your breathing grew shallow as you processed the truth.

“I knew it.”

Your words were barely a whisper, but Steve heard you nonetheless, and you took another step back when he walked towards you.

“I knew it. I knew it. I knew it,” you quietly chanted to yourself.

That was the only thing running through your mind. Had your love for Steve allowed you to ignore what was right in front of you? You were diligent with your contraceptive, so so many pregnancies in such a short time had never made sense. You kept blaming yourself despite what was so obvious. Sure, Steve was family obsessed, but you had never considered the possibility. Or did you simply never want to?

You looked up at him like he was a stranger, vision blurry from your tears, and you shook your head.

“I knew it,” you cried. “I fucking knew it.”

Steve’s eyes were narrowed, and his head was cocked to the side, something in his eyes that scared you. 

“I kept wondering and wondering how it kept happening. How did I keep getting pregnant? It made no sense,” you said, more to yourself than him. “...and everytime...I felt bad. I felt like such a horrible girlfriend, and the whole time…”

You yelped when Steve’s hand made its way to your neck, pushing your back into the wall. His blue eyes were dark and venomous, a thunderous look on his beautiful face.

“You killed them?”

You didn’t respond, opting instead for fighting against him, but he wouldn’t move.

“I knew you should’ve been pregnant a long time ago. I made sure of it! And here I was thinking I did something wrong, that I messed up-.”

“Get off of me!”

You didn’t want to hear anything else about his fucked up plan, about how long he’d been doing this. You wanted him off of you and away from you. He pulled you away from the wall before slamming you back against it, making you gasp. You reached up to his chest and neck, desperately trying to get him off, but he only pressed himself more firmly against you.

“Steve,” you begged.

“You don’t know how badly I want to hurt you right now for what you did,” he sneered.

Your heart sank, and you thought to yourself that his lack of self awareness was astounding. How long had Steve been this way? Had he always been like this? How was it possible that you didn’t know your boyfriend at all?

“...but I’m sure that I can look past your betrayal when you are swollen and glowing with my child. That will make it all worth it.”

He kissed you, hard, and you screamed into his mouth. His hands pushed at the t-shirt you were wearing, his shirt, and your hands pushed at him. He lifted you until your thighs were on either side of his hips, and the sound of your hands hitting his skin filled the room. The food was barely thought about as he pressed your back to the table, pinning you down.

You were more terrified than you were five minutes ago, knowing what was about to happen no matter how much you wished you were wrong. Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, your boyfriend, was about to rape you and force you to keep his baby. It was a sentence you had the hardest time accepting, and all of your overwhelming emotions spilled over, turning you into a sobbing mess.

Did you really miss this, or was he just so good at hiding who he truly was? 

Your hits were doing nothing as he reached between you, struggling to release himself with all of your movement. His free hand grabbed both of yours, holding them to your stomach just as he pushed into you. You threw your head back and cried, wondering how you got here. To think, you had thought that you were so lucky. You had thought that you were a terrible girlfriend for what you had been doing. Life was funny that way.

Your body had grown to crave Steve’s. He’d learned how to condition you so well that your core immediately started to clench around him with every thrust. You hated it, and you turned your head away, not wanting to witness him taint something that had never been anything but loving for you. His lips were on your jaw, searching for yours, and you tried to push against his hand.

With his other hand now free, he used them both to pin yours down beside you, lips finally finding yours despite your evident protest. You kept turning your head away, and he kept following. He tasted the inside of your mouth, hips pressing into yours over and over. The table beneath you shook from the force, and your stomach clenched with the pleasure that he was forcing onto you.

How did he do it? Clearly he’d poked a hole in every condom, but you knew it required more than that. Had he replaced your birth control with placebos? Had he acted alone? Tony had just about everything known to man at his disposal. Had he been in on it too?

“You’re going to look so beautiful,” he whispered into your mouth.

Another sob hit you, and you shook.

“You’re going to be absolutely radiant, and you’ll be just as beautiful when you walk down the aisle.”

You gasped at this, increasing your struggle, but he simply pulled your wrists away from the table before slamming them down. You winced in pain, and he hummed.

“...and I’ll fill you up again and again and again.”

You kicked your legs around him, body trembling as hysterical sobs left you, shuddering with every thrust into your dripping core. A particularly hard thrust pushed you over the edge, and the way you fluttered around him triggered his own climax. He came inside of you with a groan, wrapping his arms around you, preventing you from fighting back at all as he pinned your arms to your side.

His cock was still hard and still inside of you, his lips pressing kisses to your face. You felt like you were in a bad dream, and you wanted to wake up so badly. His lips traveled to your ear, brushing along the skin, and a shudder passed through you.

“Everyone will know that I tamed you, that I broke you until you were mine in every way.”

~

tags:  @darkficreposter​​​​ @xoxabs88xox​​​​ @harryspet​​​​ @readermia​​​​ @opheliadawnwalker3​​​ @nickyl316h​​​​ @captainchrisstan​​​​ @sebabestianstan101​​​​ @villanellevi​​​​ @lokislastlove​​​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​​​ @coconutqueen21​​​​ @hurricanerin​​​ @trinittyy​​​ @hyoyeoniie​​​ @kellyn1604​​​ @sherrybaby14​​​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​​ @mandiiblanche​​ @gotnofucks​​ @oneoftheprettynerds​​ @doozywoozy​​ @sapphirescrolls​​ @threeminutesoflife​​ @searchforanotherway​​ @mcudarklibrary​ @ksjksjkv​

#dark steve rogers #dark steve x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #Dark Fic

[yatsugareboyf]

LO$ER=LO♡ER [NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]

atsushi x gn reader. part of my TCC: FIGHT OR ESCAPE 500 EVENT.

hurt/comfort requested by @sigmafied. warning: cursing, mean customers.

the back of the book: you've encountered two bad customers in a span of a month, and both of those encounters involves atsushi coming to save the day.

notes: this is based off more so on the mv rather than the song, specifically on huening kai's part. this feels rushed but this is the best i can do ;-; first work in my 500 event wohoo!

playlist here. read on ao3 here.

Atsushi hasn’t been working long when Cafe Uzumaki decided to hire you as another barista. He works the morning shift, usually with one other barista, as most of the employees worked at night due to school or other jobs they had during the day. You were assigned the morning shift (not that you had any choice, the cafe needed more morning workers) with Atsushi and the other barista Lucy.

You could say that you all got along well. Atsushi was kind enough to take you under his wing and teach you everything that you needed to know, while Lucy swatted him every time he would teach you something wrong or mess up a recipe he’d been showing you.

“For an Americano, you just need six ounces of espresso-” Atsushi begins, already adding way too many into the machine, but Lucy smacks him from behind his head.

“Idiot, it’s only three ounces! Are you trying to kill our customers?!” she scolds, making you snicker quietly while Atsushi whines and apologizes while still being scolded and smacked by Lucy.

After redoing the recipe (Lucy made Atsushi drink the six-ounce espresso americano), they continued to teach (and bicker) the other recipes and before you knew it, you’ve mastered all the recipes in just under a week of training. (“Why does Y/N pick it all up faster than you do? It took you an extra week and you’re still shit at it” “Lucy, it’s not like you’re any better at it..”)

The one thing you struggled with, despite already memorizing all the recipes and combinations possible, is talking and dealing with customers. Atsushi and Lucy were an exception, of course, but you didn’t have the courage to tell them that you had a hard time with the communication part of the job. They didn’t realize this until you had to talk to a customer with a complaint.

For the most part, taking and serving orders were manageable. It was just a simple “What would you like?” “Here’s your order”, you couldn’t fuck that up. The thing is, other than your memorized lines, you completely froze at any other interaction, so when your customer called you over, you were already expecting the worst. You glanced at Atsushi to try and ask him to deal with the customer, but he was occupied with cleaning the machines while Lucy was serving other customers. The customer was basically yelling for you at this point, so you had no choice but to approach the customer and hope for the best.

The best scenario would be that it was a mistake and we’d both go on our merry way, right?

“You made this, right?” the customer, who seemed like a middle aged man with nothing to do, but you made no comment, “It has milk in it! I’m lactose intolerant!”

Of course, you think, the customer is unaware of the ingredients. I’ll just explain that to him and we’ll be okay.

“Sir, you ordered a latte.. That contains milk..” you cringed, I think I sound rude. Am I rude? Your question was already answered when the man’s frown worsened and you could see the steam coming out of his ears.

“You didn’t disclose that when I ordered it? That’s your job! That makes you liable for any damages!”

You couldn’t feel more pathetic just standing there while this man barked at you on how you should be doing your job. It’s not like you wanted to let him yell and insult your whole being, but you couldn’t move. Your lips were sealed shut and your hands were clammy.

You hate confrontation, especially if you know that you did nothing wrong. It makes you lose all control over breathing and it’s like all cognitive function disappears at that moment.

“What, you’re just gonna stand there? Do something, you useless piece of-!”

“Hey! What are you yelling at my coworker about?” Thankfully, Lucy comes to save you after she notices a lot of unnecessary yelling from the other side of the cafe. Atsushi then follows, slowly pulling you away from the scene to the back of the cafe where it’s more quiet.

You didn’t notice that you were crying until Atsushi was cradling your face in his hands, wiping away the tears with his thumb. It feels warm and comforting, for someone who you’ve only known for a week.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay, just breathe, yeah?” he whispers as to not fill your ears with more unnecessary noise, “you’re safe here. Just breathe.”

He over-exaggerates his inhales and exhales, and you can almost feel the rise and fall of his chest, and gestures to you to do the same. He doesn’t stop even when you cough and breathe shakily, Atsushi continues to guide your breathing back to normal, or at least to limit it down to deep breaths. It’s like how parents try to calm down their crying toddler, patting their back and softly whispering sweet assurances as they rock them side-to-side, but you don’t feel infantilized by it. It feels oddly comforting, his warm hands on your cheeks moving down your back to slowly rub it, and it grounds you.

Because of Atsushi, you calmed down faster than any other time you’ve tried to yourself.

“What the fuck was that?” Lucy barges into the room after Atsushi had managed to calm your breathing and crying. The white-haired boy winced at his coworker’s loud voice and rubbed your back comfortingly when you visibly flinched.

“Lucy, don’t be so loud.” Atsushi starts, glancing over at you who calmed down a bit, “it wasn’t their fault, I’m sure.”

“I know that much, idiot Atsushi. What I’m asking is why you couldn’t defend yourself out there. He was clearly wrong, so why’d you let him yell at you like that?” She stands there with her arms crossed. She was also concerned, don’t doubt that, but she was also worried since this isn’t the worst customer to ever walk the cafe, so what more if you encountered worse people?

“I..” your throat blocks up and you gesture vividly until you could speak again, “I don’t know.. Couldn’t move…”

“I get what you mean, Y/N. It’s okay, it was your first time encountering these kinds of people.” Atsushi smiles warmly at you, making you freeze again, but this time, it felt different. Your hands aren’t shaking and your cheeks feel hot, and it isn’t uncomfortable.

You didn’t mind freezing up if it was because of his smile.

Atsushi noticed you freezing up again and his smile turned into a frown. Shame, you thought. “Don’t think about it too much, you’re doing great!”

You could only press your lips into a tight smile, nodding along to his words. You turned to Lucy to silently apologize, and she just sighs and waves her hand. “It’s fine, but don’t count on me and this dimwit to save you next time.”

Lucy wasn’t there the next time, but Atsushi was.

It’s been three weeks since the old man came to the store and everything seemed to be going smoothly. You could handle simple communication tasks and whenever there was a complaint, Lucy or Atsushi would approach them and usually, it went well.

It’s also been three weeks since you’ve had Atsushi on your mind non-stop. Your relationship with him has developed more after the incident. He was more kind and considerate with you, now knowing your issue with communicating with customers, and he was more than willing to help you out in other things. You couldn’t help but overthink, is it just pity? Is it because I have an issue, that’s why he’s being so considerate? What if I didn’t freeze up that time, would he have stayed the same?

But it wasn’t always about pity. The way you’re immediately filled with this indescribable warmth whenever he brushes his fingers on yours when reaching for your cup, or whenever he looks up to you and smiles, or whenever you remember how he calms you down almost instantly. You’re not familiar with this feeling, but it’s definitely better than freezing up because some old man is yelling at you for not telling him that a latte has milk. You feel guilty for saying it, but you wouldn’t mind having another confrontation like that if Atsushi would be there to save the day.

After three weeks since the latte incident, Lucy had to take a two-day leave. She didn’t say why, but she did vividly remind you and Atsushi (mostly Atsushi) to take care of the morning shift because no one from the night shifts was willing to occupy Lucy’s spot.

The first day started off relatively quiet. Customers were served calmly and any issues were quickly resolved, and it wasn’t even that busy. For the most part, you and Atsushi weren’t really that busy. There was a lot of vacant time where both of you were just laying around and cleaning up. Atsushi would try to make conversation, and it would go well, but then a random customer would pop up and ruin the conversation.

While Atsushi tended to the customer, you were on the other side of the bar. I’m not staring. I’m just looking that way, you want to say, but you were definitely staring. You fixed your gaze on Atsushi, who talks so sweetly to the customer, maybe about how there were no banana bread in stock this week, or maybe how Americanoes have three ounces of espresso rather than six ounces, whatever it is, he talks so warmly. Even as he starts to walk away from the customer, to make their drink you assume, his aura of comfort and easiness never fades. He somehow brings relief and serenity to those around him with just a simple smile or a little “Hi!”. You feel a little jealous of the customer, who was lucky enough to elicit a cute giggle from Atsushi when they dropped a hefty tip in the tip jar, and you wish it was you who made this cute boy laugh.

He approaches you after he deals with the customer with a small smile, dusting his hands off, “Are you okay? You’ve been spaced out.”

You nod, laying your arm on the counter and resting the side of your head on it. Giggling, Atsushi copies your movements, now facing you directly. You suddenly feel very exposed, but you don’t move.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” you answer, adjusting quietly to meet his eyes more. “You?”

“The last customer dropped a very big tip, so you can say I’m stoked.” He chuckles, and you can’t help but let a quiet laugh yourself.

“Yeah, they seemed to really like you.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm. You’re… you. They would be an idiot if they didn’t like you.”

You were too occupied with his beautiful two-toned eyes to notice a small blush appear on his pale cheeks. He stays quiet for a while, before smiling.

“How about you, Y/N? Do you like me?”

It was your turn to stay quiet, and you can’t help but hope that he doesn’t see the effect that he has on you. Of course I like you, you wanna say, but you’re choked up and frozen, only staring into his eyes as an answer. It happened again, Atsushi. You made me freeze with just a simple action. What would I do if it isn’t smiles and small touches anymore? No, I’m thinking too far ahead. Atsushi wouldn’t wanna talk more with me if not because of our job. He’s not interested in me as I am in him. Atsushi deserves someone more interesting, someone who doesn’t freeze every time he smiles or-

“Hey, is no one working here?” a harsh voice interrupts your thoughts, making you and Atsushi stand up abruptly. Atsushi waves at you and approaches the customer, probably signaling you to look like you’re working on something as well. You speed walk to the coffee makers, wiping down non-existent stains.

“Finally,” the man sighs irritatedly, “I’ll have a cinnamon dolce latte with sugar free buttery brown flavored syrup, non-fat whipped cream, and sprinkles for my daughter, and a black coffee for me.”

You peek over at Atsushi as he tries to hold back his own exasperated sigh, typing in the long order and totalling his bill. The man then just asks to bring the drinks to his table and walks to the nearest table to fiddle with his phone. When Atsushi faces you, he wears an awkward smile.

“I can do the long order while you brew him his coffee. Is it okay if you bring it to him?” He asks, already reaching for a plastic cup to fill. You nod quietly, starting to brew the coffee.

Atsushi was only half-way done with the complicated order when you finished yours (given it was a simple enough order), so you tapped his shoulder and gestured to the mug. He nods and smiles a bit, “Go ahead, Y/N,”

You inhaled sharply as you faced the direction where the man was sitting, already feeling a bit nervous as you stepped closer to his table. With every step you took, the louder your heart beats in your ears, making your hands tremble a bit. You tried to hold your shaking and trembling as you near him, stopping fairly close to him to take another deep breath. As you step forward, the man suddenly stands up, “What’s taking so-!”

His sudden movement clashed with your gradual approach, making you drop the black coffee all over his button-up shirt, the mug bouncing off the floor before shattering into pieces, leaving the small plate it used to sit on in your hands. His eyes widened and he pushed you away with enough force for you to trip and fall ass first on the ground.

Fuck.

“What the hell?” the man exclaims, wiping down haphazardly on his shirt before pointing at you as you scramble to get yourself off of the floor, “Are you blind?! Look where you’re going!”

Your legs were trembling as you stood up, struggling to maintain a straight posture as you continuously bow with quick “I’m sorry”’s coming out of your mouth. These apologies fall on deaf ears as he grips your uniform, making you look up to face him, “What are you standing here for? Get cleaning!”

With a quick “y-yes, sir!”,you run to the back of the cafe, passing a very concerned Atsushi as you grab the mop and bucket and rush back to the table to scrub the floor stained with coffee. He doesn’t seem to be satisfied with your frantic cleaning because he kicks the mop out of your hands and nudges you harshly with his finger.

“I meant my shirt, you dumbass! How stupid can you get?”

You couldn’t even move anymore with how embarrassed you feel. Your hands feel more clammy than ever, and your eyes are already starting to blur with tears. It feels like your heart fell to your stomach, closing up your throat and gluing your feet to the ground. Move, goddamnit! Stop being such a loser, you will yourself to at least grab a tissue to damp on the man’s drenched shirt, but it’s like this man’s arms are holding yours to your side, making you immobile.

The man reaches out to poke at you again, but it never reaches you. You hear struggling breaths and grunts, followed by a “I think t-that’s enough, sir.”

Your head shot up from the familiar voice, and you’re met with the sight of Atsushi gripping the man’s wrist just mere inches away from your shoulder. You couldn’t see his face, but you certainly saw the man’s face, scrunched up in pain and frustration as he tries to break free from his tight grip.

Before the man could even react to Atsushi, he grabs your hand and pulls you towards him as he runs to the door, pushing it open and drags you out of the cafe. Your feet are suddenly moving at a fast pace, trying to catch up with Atsushi as he continues to rush farther away from the cafe. You don’t know where he’s headed to or he’s just plain running, but you felt more free than ever. His hand holding yours tightly, looking at his hair flying back from the speed he’s running, it all feels so warm. So warm, that it makes you laugh even with the tears still freely falling from your face. Atsushi turns to you while running, watching your eyes squint as you continue to laugh, making him smile and tug you closer towards him and giggle quietly.

Your laughs and his giggles die down as he reaches a vacant parking lot a few blocks from the cafe, guiding you to sit down against a curb. You both sit in silence before he breaks it.

“I’m sorry for rushing out like that. Usually Lucy would handle those types of things, but I panicked… I’m so sorry.” His cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink, clasping his hands together as he lowers his head. He’s embarrassed? You couldn’t help but put your hands over his and shake your head frantically.

“Don’t be! I’m glad we got out of there, honestly.” He looks up to you with the most hopeful eyes, looking into yours to search for any hesitation or discomfort before sighing in relief.

“I feel like such a loser, running out of the cafe like that. I could’ve stood up for you, but-”

“No, no! You’re not a loser, Atsushi!” you say in the loudest voice he’s ever heard from you, and he stays quiet, “to be honest, I feel like I’m more of a loser if anything. I couldn’t do a single thing right.”

Your hands fall to your side, facing away from him and into the distance. I couldn’t do a single thing right. What does he think of me now? If he thinks he’s a loser from doing such a brave thing, what would he think of me from doing something so cowardly? I had to rely on him and Lucy to defend myself. He probably thinks I’m helpless on my own. I might get fired. I will get fired-

It’s always him, noticing when you’re too deep in your thoughts, struggling to keep your tears at bay. It’s his warm touch to your cheek, wiping away a stray tear from eyes with his knuckle. You glance over at him, wide-eyed as you feel his hand rub your back slowly, Just like last time, you wonder.

If smiles could convey words, Atsushi’s might’ve said a whole speech. His smile makes you feel like no other words would give justice to the comfort it gives you. You don’t need anything else to lift your spirits, or to wipe the tears from your eyes. It might even give you enough courage to walk back to that cafe and talk back to that man. Whatever it is, it’s more than enough to make your overflowing thoughts stop and your heart skip a beat.

“You did everything right, Y/N. It was an accident, you’re not to blame for that.” He stops rubbing your back in favor of tucking a stray hair out of your face behind your ear, “none of it was your fault, okay?”

You swallow a lump in your throat you didn’t notice was there earlier, a ghost of a smile on your lips.

“I like you.”

“H-huh?”

“From your question earlier,” you whisper, suddenly embarrassed at your sudden confession. “You asked if I liked you. I do.”

His face goes blank for a moment before turning bright red, hiding his face in his palms as he whines.

“Don’t say things like that out of the blue! Warn me next time!”

You giggle at his cute reaction, patting his back in return.

After his small meltdown, he looks away from you as he fiddles with his fingers. Did I make him uncomfortable? Ah, I shouldn’t have said that, it’s not the right time-

“I like you too.” He says so quietly that you would’ve missed it if you were a smidge deeper in your thoughts.

If smiles could convey words, yours would’ve been enough to write a book about how much you adored Atsushi.

taglist : @sebtomm @os8mu <3 thanks for joining!

#bsd #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #nakajima atsushi #atsushi x reader #atsushi headcanons #bsd atsushi #atsushi fluff #atsushi nakajima #nakajima atsushi x reader #atsushi x y/n #atsushi x you #bsd imagines #bsd scenarios #atsushi imagines #atsushi scenarios #bsd atsushi x reader #bsd nakajima atsushi #bsd atsushi nakajima x reader #atsushi hurt/comfort #atsushi #atsushi x gn reader #yatsugareboyfwrites #yatsugareboyf 500 event #no proofreading we die like oda

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

if I can never give you peace — two || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x reader // Word count (chapter): 5.8k // Genre: Mafia AU, Hybrid AU, enemies to lovers // Ao3

↳ It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

Until he comes back.

Warnings and tags (chapter): Descriptions of violence, Threats, kind of dark in general

First · Previous · Next

The car is late, you think as you smooth over the fabric of your skirt, your mouth twisted in a disapproving scowl. Annoyance is one of the few emotions that ever appear on your face, and you don’t even bother to hide it. You have only been standing there, waiting, for a few minutes, but it already disrupts your perfectly well-oiled routine. This is just one of the many changes that have come with Jungkook taking over, but it could be the one you are the least fond of.

You used to have the routine down to a T. You knew exactly when to leave your apartment so that the car would stop in front of you right as you reached the pavement. There were small hiccups every now and then — traffic, last-minute phone calls —, but most of the time, it went perfectly. You liked that. Having that kind of control, when your life had always been completely out of your hands, was comforting.

That went out the window the day you started working for Jungkook.

When the car stops in front of you, five minutes, that’s three-hundred seconds, after the agreed-upon time, you take a short breath before opening the door and stepping in.

There, of course, is your new boss, sitting with his legs widely spread on the leather seat. He changed your discreet sedan for a limousine, which you find obnoxious, but you didn’t protest. You liked to think that you were better than that at picking your battles

“Mr. Jeon,” you say with a nod, voice even.

Jungkook grins when you call him that. You know he enjoys the title, the power it indicates, particularly since hybrids are supposed to only ever have the same last name as their owners.

“Lot of work to be done today,” he comments, and you know he’s just saying that to rile you up. You used to report to Mr. X, but you worked on your own more often than not. Now, you’re basically Jungkook’s glorified secretary. You wouldn’t particularly mind the change if it didn’t mean that you had to sit and watch him superbly ignore your carefully crafted schedule, as he had every single day for the past week.

“Indeed,” you reply without batting an eyelid. “This morning, you have a meeting with Suga,” this one he should go to, he never misses them, “then you are supposed to eat with Fred Lucas,” chances were he wouldn’t show up to that and make you take him to a fancy restaurant instead, and you would be the one to have to handle the situation with him, “and later today I think it would be important for you to pay a visit to the Mystery Room.” That place was one of the few legal aspects of the business at the moment, if you ignore the drugs that get sold there, and it was not a location you should lose right now. “They have been quite… difficult, since the change in direction.”

That last one is new, and you’re not sure how Jungkook will react to it. Of course, there is plenty more work to do, but you’re trying out new methods to get him to do at least what really matters. You don’t understand why he would hire you if he doesn’t let you do your job, but hey, at least you’re alive. And so is your family.

You don’t know how long that will last, though. Unless Jungkook seriously gets his act together, it won’t take long for someone to think that they can do the same thing he did, and have him murdered. You’re even mildly surprised it hasn’t happened yet. That’s the thing, when a leader gets killed. It weakens the whole structure, and it gives people ideas.

The grin disappears from Jungkook’s face and he nods gravely at that last piece of information. That catches your eye, because it’s new. You tell yourself that maybe, just maybe, he spent the last week riding the high of his victory against Mr. X, and that he will be efficient if there’s trouble, at least.

“Cancel that second thing,” he says. “I want to eat at that restaurant I went to last week. You should get me a reservation there.”

Or not.

“But you can go meet him,” he adds, and you blink.

“Mr. Lucas is expecting to see you,” you say, in case you weren’t clear.

“And he doesn’t get to demand my presence like that,” Jungkook snaps. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from wincing. His voice sounds harsh, cutting. Dangerous. “Did he think that I’d go ask for treats because a human joined us? That’s not how that shit works.”

Okay. He’s not wrong here, but you don’t know about this— approachto the situation. Fred is, indeed, one of the two human leaders who decided to immediately join Jungkook when the news of the death of Mr. X and the uprising of hybrids in various parts of your branches in the city spread. You wouldn’t be surprised if he expected a treatment of favor for that, too, but you’re not sure letting him know how little his gesture was appreciated was the way to go.

“I don’t think—”

“He’s replaceable,” Jungkook says with a dismissive movement of the wrist. “I’ll swap him for one of my men the second he makes a mistake. It would be a lot better if no one forgot that.”

The look he gives you makes his message crystal clear. You feel your mouth getting dry, but you know nothing is showing in your expression, and that at least is a relief.

“I’ll go to the meeting and get you your reservation, then,” you say, pulling out your phone. “Does the rest of the schedule work for you?”

Jungkook frowns, and the tiniest feeling of satisfaction spreads in your chest. You know he’s just applying pressure and waiting for you to crack, but you won’t.You’re used to contorting yourself to please everyone. You’ve made it work for years, and it will take much more than those childish games for you to snap.

Or, at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the past week.

“Fine.” Then he closes his eyes and leans back in the seat. You raise an eyebrow at the sight. You know it’s not because he trusts you, but because he doesn’t think you have the guts to do anything to him — and because, even if you did, he’s pretty confident he wouldn’t have any trouble stopping you. You hate that you find something endearing in that vision. Jungkook was genetically designed to be handsome, and he is.More than that, though, when you look at him right now, even though his long bunny ears are skillfully hidden under a headband, he looks cute.

And he could — and would — take less than a second to snap your neck.

“This afternoon should be fun at least,” he mumbles under his breath, and you hide your grimace.

Shit. That can’t be good.

It’s been clear to you from the very first day that Suga knows exactly what he is doing. It’s also been clear that this isn’t his scene. Being at the forefront of operations, taking the lead — it’s obvious that he would much rather stay in the shadows. You’re not sure how important he was to Jungkook’s organization before, since no one has bothered trying to inform you of that, but you suspect that he’s usually more the type to be in the field.

Right now, though, he’s standing in front of a small group, exposing what the recent developments have been. Sitting behind Jungkook, you listen to him attentively. Those reunions should become less frequent, but right now things could still change completely, and you cannot afford to be taken by surprise.

You are, however, starting to feel less and less comfortable with the fact that nothing seems to be coming out of them. Sure, Yoongi informs you of the people who have sided with Jungkook and of those who are openly opposed to him — a minority, so far — but there is a large group in between that seems to be in no hurry to take position. And you don’t like it.

It hasn’t been long since Jungkook has taken over, but you should at least have gotten someintel by now. You’re not sure what isn’t working here. For now, you don’t want to risk provoking anyone by offering your services. Worry is starting to gnaw at you, though. You could all be driving into a dead-end street at full speed, and that stupid struggle you’re having with Jungkook just isn't worth dying over.

“So not much has changed,” Jungkook comments, tapping his fingers onto the table. He looks nonchalant, but you notice a muscle in his jaw twitching. You wonder if he understands more than he lets on.

“Things have been stagnant,” Yoongi admits without batting an eye. “There hasn’t been any open rebellion, but communication is lacking.”

“That needs to get better.”

“We’re working on it.”

They probably are, but it doesn’t look like that’s going well. Word has reached your ears that some of the branches have been keeping hybrids at bay as discreetly as possible.

“What about that Mystery Room thing?” Jungkook asks, frowning. “What’s going on over there?”

“The what?” Yoongi frowns.

Jungkook looks puzzled — pissed, actually — for a second, then glances at you over his shoulder, and the attention of the whole room suddenly shifts to you. You straighten your back, swallow.

“The owner of the bar has missed a payment to us,” you state calmly, “and it seems that he has no intention of making it and is trying to get out of his contract with us. It would be better if we didn’t lose it right now.”

“What do you mean, ‘it seems’?” Yoongi asks, narrowing his golden eyes at you. His voice sounds more like a hiss, and this time, you struggle to hide your reaction. You haven’t forgotten what it felt like, when you thought he was going to kill you. It’s affected you more than you’d like to admit.

“I have a contact who—”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, and you close your mouth.

“I’m going there today,” Jungkook informs him, and Yoongi nods.

“I’ll be around.”

The two men have a silent exchange of looks. Their relationship is somewhat atypical, not something Mr. X had with anyone. It looks like they genuinely rely on and trust each other. You suppose someone else would find it touching, but you don’t have it in yourself. Especially not when that means they both have it out for you.

“Haven’t you been following what we’ve been talking about here for the past week?” Jungkook snarks at you, and you blink. “Any information you get from now on needs to get to Suga so he can factor it in.” At that, you give him a disbelieving look. That just won’t work. It can’t. Not for the first time, you wonder how much he underestimates you, exactly. If he knew anything about the way you work, about how many contacts you have and how much information you’re usually juggling with, he would never ask that of you.

Yet you nod. You don’t know yet if you’ll send a believable amount of intel to Suga, or just absolutely drown him under it until they tell you to stop, but once more, this just isn’t worth fighting over.

Especially when fighting over something can so easily mean dying over it, in your current situation.

“Will do, Mr. Jeon.”

He looks displeased, and you know it’s because all he’s waiting for is for you to slip.

“I shouldn’t even bring you to these meetings. You’re not even taking any notes. That’s fucking useless.”

It takes everything in you to bite back a scoff at that. You could tell him you don’t need to take notes when Yoongi is talking about minimal changes in a landscape you know on the tip of your fingers, that maybe you would if he said anything of value, and that this wouldn’t be an issue if people actually feared him.

You marvel at how annoyed that quip makes you. You suppose you don’t like it when your competence is questioned. You don’t like the threat either, though. You don’t want to risk falling out of the loop.

“I’ve gotten you a reservation at that restaurant,” you say. “If things are done here, I’ll be on my way to meet Mr. Lucas.”

Changing the subject. Deflecting. Trying your best to live to see another day. It seems like it’s all you’ve been doing for the past week. You know you can keep it up for a long time, you’re patient enough. You also know that this game is set up to make you lose.

Right now, as Jungkook looks at you, clearly not amused by your attitude, there is a terrifying moment during which you fear that he might just drop the charade. The only point of this whole thing is to get rid of you. He could decide he only wants to do that any second.

“Yeah, right. Be on your way.”

He dismisses you like you’re some low lackey, but that, at least, isn’t anything new, and you know how to handle it. You bow politely, then exit the room.

“You really wanna keep her around?” Yoongi asks once you’re gone, and Jungkook groans.

He doesn’t know why he had expected you to break easily. He’d seen you work for Mr. X, do that same shit he makes you do and survive as long as you had, so he should have known you’d be good at it. He supposes he’d been used to you making decisions for him, back then, and had thought that was a normal thing for you, that you wouldn’t enjoy being in the position of taking orders. But you were, after all, just someone who worked for others that whole time.

Not that he gives a fuck about it. He couldn’t care less why you did the things you did. All he wants is to give you a taste of your own medicine. Dangling a false chance of survival in front of your eyes and let you handle the rest yourself. So as long as you push through… well. He’ll let it slide.

It’s not like you can keep doing it forever anyway.

Fred Lucas worries you. He’s always smiled too widely, been too loud, made too many jokes. You know Mr. X considered him to be some sort of buffoon, but also kept his distance from him. Mr. X didn’t like people who pretended to wear their hearts on their sleeves.

“Always a pleasure to see you, (Y/N),” he greets you warmly when you walk up to him and you give him a nod. If he’s upset that Jungkook isn’t there, he doesn’t show it, just like you don’t show your distaste for his use of your first name. “I’d like to discuss with just you, though,” he adds, eyeing Hector, who’s standing beside you. The fact that you still have him by your side is the only good thing that has come from working for Jungkook so far.

You don’t like that. You’re all too aware of the fact that this is his land, and that the only reason why he’s saying that is that Hector is a hybrid. If that gets back to Jungkook, it wouldn’t be good for Fred — but you don’t think he��ll go down without a fight. You glance at Hector, who looks as placid as always and offers no help. The gears in your head are turning fast. Before, you were protected by how indispensable you were considered by Mr. X. That is clearly not the case anymore, but Fred likely isn’t aware of that. Yet.

On the other hand, sending Hector away would show weakness, and you can’t afford that.

“Hector goes where I go,” you say.

Fred’s smile widens even more.

“Of course, of course, can’t trust anyone those days, can you?”

You wonder if it’s a jab at you and how quickly you changed sides, but he is more or less in the same position, so you could just be paranoid.

“Come on, come on in, let’s get ourselves a drink.”

You don’t want a drink, but you do follow him in. The sooner you do that, the sooner you will be out of here.

Fred has a lot of things to say. Most of it isn’t relevant to anything that is happening right now, but you’ve never been able to tune things out. You always worry you’ll miss an essential piece of information. So you listen as he babbles about his business — getting weapons in and out of the city, something he is decently good at — but also about his family, his friendships, and his favorite kind of alcohol. You let him pour you a glass, even if you have no intention of touching it.

“I hear you,” you manage to interrupt him, “but I am curious to know why you wanted a meeting with Mr. Jeon. It seems to me that you have the situation here under control.”

Flattery has always worked on Fred, and you have no issue in using that against him.

“Of course we do,” he gloats. “It’s just— There are a lot of rumorsfloating around those days, you know?”

You do know. You suspect Fred has heard the same things as you. You also suspect most people have been very careful not to let those things reach Yoongi’s ears.

“People are talking about a ‘human opposition’ forming,” Fred gasps dramatically. “Can you believe it? Some people are really not happy about being led by a hybrid.”

That seems to be more concrete than what you’ve heard, which means that Fred could be exaggerating things… or that he was contacted to join that opposition. And you don’t like that second possibility, not at all. You trust Fred about as far as you can throw him, and that means you certainly don’t trust him to not try and play both sides.

“That was to be expected,” you reply calmly. “I do not doubt that Mr. Jeon knew such a reaction was coming.”

Fred narrows his eyes at you, trying to gauge what you knew then and what you know now. Which isn’t much, but that’s not something you plan to let slip out.

“Do you know of anything specific?”

You see from the glint in Fred’s eyes that he knows the game is on. If you know something and he doesn’t tell you, he will look suspicious, but he could also reveal too much, and you doubt he wants to play his cards so soon.

“I— don’t, unfortunately,” he finally says, and you nod. Either he hasn’t heard of the Mystery Room, or he is voluntarily hiding it from you. Regardless, that limits how useful he is to you. “But the word on the street is that Jungkook may not know what he’s doing all that well.”

You send him a sharp glance. He’s taking a risk in telling you that, you both know it. That doesn’t make the information any less precious.

“I see. And, again, I don’t suppose you know where this— ‘word on the street’ is coming from?”

He shrugs, a true picture of innocence, and maybe you’d have believed it if Fred hadn’t been in the business for longer than you. He knew, he just wasn’t telling because he wanted to preserve his opportunities if something happened.

“I have to go, then. Thank you for the drink, Mr. Lucas.”

“Please,” he says, holding out his hand. “Call me Fred.”

That won’t be happening.

“Goodbye, Mr. Lucas.”

Once you’re out, you take a second to collect yourself, Hector following like a shadow and waiting for you silently.

“Is everything okay?” he asks after you’ve mulled over the conversation that just happened for several minutes.

“It’s fine,” you say as a reflex. You couldn’t stop thinking about how Fred had taken a gamble when he’d proclaimed his allegiance to Jungkook. He’d bet on him coming out on top, and yet you didn’t trust it. You couldn’t think of a reason why he would do that instead of carefully waiting to see how things would go, like everyone else. You didn’t like this. Not one bit. “We need to get to Mystery Room,” you add.

“Of course,” Hector nods, gesturing towards the limo, and you don’t bother repressing a groan this time.

“God. That’s so tacky.”

That brings a smile to Hector’s lips, but you don’t smile back. You never do. Instead, you climb in, roll your eyes at the whole thing, and let yourself be driven away. You can’t come to a conclusion about Fred Lucas just yet, but you have no intention of forgetting about him either.

It takes you a few seconds, once you’re out of the car, to understand that something isn’t right. You’ve never been good with feelings — instincts, as hybrids call them — and the air doesn’t feel particularly tense or charged to you. Hector stands a little close to you for comfort, and you piece things together from there. There are a few cars around, but not too many, which isn’t surprising considering it’s the middle of the afternoon. Still, you can hear voices from inside, and you know there’s an argument going on there.

“Let’s go,” you say with a decided nod, and Hector leads the way, shoulders tense, ready to pounce if needed. You trust him to do his job, and that’s a lot, coming from you.

You frown when you walk into the bar, taking a few seconds to let your eyes get adjusted to the lack of luminosity, and that frown only deepens when you hear the argument going on and recognize Jungkook’s voice. God. The concepts of subtlety and discretion are completely lost on him, aren’t they?

Making your way through the room, you try to evaluate the situation. Yoongi is leaning against a table, looking bored out of his mind, though you’re sure he doesn’t miss anything from what is going on in the room. As if to prove your point, his golden eyes flick towards you for a second when you approach, before looking away, clearly uninterested. Other than him, it seems that the only other people present are the owner and various employees. You think it’s stupid and dangerous that they showed up here basically alone but, for the millionth time today, you grit your teeth and don’t say anything.

There are five men around, including the bouncer and a security guard. They’re probably armed, and that’s to say nothing of anyone you cannot see. Outside of Yoongi, though, no one pays attention to you, not until the bartender asks loudly “Mojito, as usual, Miss (L/N)?”

It’s a bit early for that, actually, but you give him a nod. The Mystery Room isn’t quite your scene — you’ve always been one to prefer classy restaurants — but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re well-known here, and everywhere, actually, which is something that everyoneknows, except your own boss. That is obvious by the way people’s attitude shifts when they see you. The owner bows to you politely. You acknowledge it with a curt movement of your chin. Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. He doesn’t look happy about it.

You wait until you have your glass in your hand to say something. The silence that fills the room is heavy, and you can feel Jungkook’s anger emanating from him, having lost the men’s attention. He’s the man who murdered Mr. X, took over half of his operations without anyone noticing, and their fucking boss, and they’re still treating him like a low-life hybrid.

“You haven’t been paying what you owe us,” you say, almost lightly, when you get your drink. “Has business been slow?”

You know it has. You know people aren’t too sure what to think of Jungkook yet. You also know they’ve still made money. Better yet, you’re sure the men in the room know youknow that. You’re giving them an obvious way out. All they have to do is say “yes”, and you’ll come up with something. You won’t let them go off scot-free, but there’s no need for this to end in a bloodbath, either.

“That’s not the issue,” the man says, voice raspy, and you don’t let it show, of course you don’t, but you’re still taking the hit. They’re underestimating Jungkook.

This might be the last mistake they make.

“I think it would be better for everyone if we could work through whatever issue there is,” you say slowly.

Better for them, really, especially because this is you giving him a second chance. There won’t be a third one.

“I’m afraid we don’t, uh, approve of the recent change in direction,” he replies, a stupid grin on his face. He’s mocking you and your infamous overly procedural speech. You know people say you can’t accept who you’re working for, that you can’t take the idea of having blood on your hands.

You may not care, but you’re well-aware of it, and you really don’t appreciate him saying that to your face. You’ll have to make an example out of him.

You sigh and shake your head at his answer. You’re not going to enjoy this. You’ve seen people’s attempts at rebellion against Mr. X, even if those were few and far between, and no matter how much of a fight they put up, it never ends well. For them.

You’re prepared to just leave the place and arrange for it to be set on fire during the night, when Jungkook’s voice snaps you out of it.

“What’s your problem with the change in direction, fucker?”

The mood changes immediately. Hector’s hand on your shoulder gently pulls you back, and Yoongi hops off the table to come stand next to Jungkook, hands in his pockets. He looks nonchalant and relaxed. He could probably easily kill everyone in this room and not get a drop of blood on his jacket.

The owner squares his shoulders and walks up to him. He’s slightly taller and much larger than Jungkook.

“Listen, bunny…”

You barely have the time to widen your eyes at the word, to think about all the ways Jungkook has made it clear that he’s not your typical rabbit-hybrid before his right hook connects with the man’s jaw, so fast you would have missed it if you’d blinked.

A moment of stunned silence follows, during which the man stumbles backwards, hand coming to cup his face in disbelief. And then, he seems to decide that it’s a good idea to retaliate. The dozens, hundreds maybe, of fights you’ve seen Jungkook win flash before your eyes. He doesn’t stand a chance.

People start moving around you, but it seems like it’s only a fistfight. No guns are drawn, for now, and you’re reminded of how much you fucking hate watching people fight. You take a step back, bored already at this stupid display of strength and violence. Still, you can’t help it when your eyes are drawn to Jungkook. There’s a— curiosity within you. How much has he truly changed, in the past two years?

For one, he certainly isn’t pretending this time, isn’t trying to make this fight last for a few more rounds. There iscertain showmanship there, though, you note. He’s giving time for the owner to recover while he takes out some of the other men with hits of surgical precision. He wants them to seewhatever he’s going to do to their boss. Hector and Yoongi keep the fight contained, don’t let anyone escape or call for help, but Jungkook doesn’t need their help. No one here is a threat to him, and it doesn’t take long for the men to be on the floor, groaning in pain.

The owner pushes himself up, spits some blood on the floor. Jungkook turns to face him and beckons him closer with a flick of his hand. He looks amused.

“You fucking piece of—”

This time, Jungkook doesn’t go for the head. His fist gets the man in the ribs, and that first punch is followed by dozens of others, not giving the man any respite, not letting him breathe. When the man falls back, Jungkook doesn’t stop, though the hits slow down, based on what you can see and hear. You have to clench your jaw to stop yourself from grimacing at the sound of flesh hitting flesh, of the bones underneath clashing. It was drowned out, back when he fought in a ring, but knowing it was there disgusted you back. You don’t know why, you just hate it. It makes you sick.

When Jungkook finally gets back up, he hasn’t even broken a sweat. There are five men on the ground, clenching different parts of their bodies and crying out in pain, and he isn’t even out of breath.

“You should fucking reconsider,” he spits out.

They won’t have to. This place will be gone soon enough.

His eyes meet yours as he walks out, and his expression turns to a disgusted scowl. It almost draws a scoff out of you, but you hold it in, and instead, you follow him dutifully.

Jungkook doesn’t speak to you in the car, eyes instead on his bloody knuckles. It will heal fast, you know, and that’s probably why he doesn’t bother taking care of it. When the car stops, you look outside and find yourself faced with your own apartment building. It’s not even five in the afternoon yet. You turn around to give your boss a quizzical look.

“You’re not needed anymore,” he shrugs. He doesn’t sound like he’s playing this time, though you’re still sure that he wants to get on your nerves.

You hate that it’s working this time.

“The day isn’t—”

“I think you’ve proved exactly how efficient you are today,” he says, obviously dismissing you. “I have no fucking idea how you got this job.”

You bite your tongue not to reply. You don’t care about the job, you don’t care about his opinion of you, you barely even care about the Family. You should just nod, give him the usual “yes, Mr. Jeon,” and walk out. But something keeps you in place a little longer than it should, and that’s how much you hate jobs that aren’t well done.

Your voice sounds distant to your own ears when you say what you’re supposed to, your body doesn’t feel like your own when you walk out and close the door. Your breathing quickens while you hear the car leave behind you like it’s all happening in a dream, your head spins, and you stand frozen in place, staring right in front of you.

Is this your life now? you wonder, feeling your heart thumping like it’s trying to get out of your chest. Are you going to let yourself be so disposable, so mediocre, let everything you’ve spent years building fall apart? This isn’t the time for pride, you’re well aware of that, but it’s still eating at you inside.

You walk back to your apartment like you’re in a trance. There’s a heavy weight on your chest, and you realize you have to make a choice. If things stay like that, you suppose Jungkook will have your head at some point. This is a fight of patience. One you cannot win. But if you make yourself indispensable, then maybe, maybe you can survive it. You’ve done it once already.

You brush aside the little voice mocking your reasoning, telling you that you’re doing this because you don’t want to lose your status. Not because it’s wrong, but because you know that’s not enough of an incentive for you to take a risk. You need something stronger than that. Even if you know it’s a lie.

That doesn’t stop your hand from trembling as you dial Yoongi’s number. You’re happy there’s no one to see you, because God, you couldn’t take your carefully crafted facade crumbling right now.

“Yes?” he answers quickly. If he’s surprised to hear from you, it doesn’t show.

“What are the plans for the Mystery Room?” you ask, satisfied that your voice doesn’t quiver, even if you’re a mess right now.

There’s a silence at the other end of the line, and you suspect he’s considering not answering you, so you take the initiative.

“You need to at least replace the owner,” you say, kicking off your shoes. “You can convince him to sell to us,” — convince, one of your favorite euphemisms — “or get rid of him and get the place from his family. Burning the place down is also an option. We can’t let what happened slide like that.”

“Hmm,” Yoongi says.

“Also, it would better if Mr. Jeon could avoid fighting with people. The last thing we want is people who think they can challenge him.”

“He can take them.”

“That’s not the issue. If people think they have a chance, they’ll keep trying. We don’t want them to do that.”

Another, longer silence.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because he’ll listen to you.”

“And you think I will listen to you?”

You roll your eyes. It’s strange, you know you’re gambling your life right now, but the tension you were experiencing earlier has been replaced by an eerie calm. You feel detached from everything.

Maybe you’ve been doing this for too long.

“You don’t have to,” you say, “but this is my job. I’m good at it. If you just let me do it, it would be far more efficient than whatever has been going on for the last week. I know you don’t trust me, but you can probably come to the same conclusions as me in this situation at least.”

Your heart is hammering in your chest. This is an explicit critique, something you would never have risked with Mr. X, and it’s the most open act of defiance that you’ve ever done — and it’s to convince them to let you workfor them.

“We’ll see about that,” he replies dismissively, and your shoulders fall at first, but then he adds, almost reluctantly, “I’ll take what you said into consideration.”

“Good. We also need to talk about tomorrow’s meeting. I’ve gotten some important information about the opposition to Mr. Jeon, and I think—”

As you explain the situation to Yoongi, you feel yourself calming down. Maybe it’s because you’re doing something that’s familiar to you, you’re not sure, but you can breathe again, and that solidifies your conviction that you’re making the right decision.

Finally, you’re ready to take back your life.

Tag list: @chaiwivluv @mintyrae @btswdwsmhrdt @xxquenwxtchxx @fekitza @kimmieloveswho @deeepvibes @lonleycoffee @gookiebts @kpop-baka @taecallsmenoona @mimiinluv @dabbingangels @jooahchu

#jungkook x reader #bts #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook #jeon jungkook #hybrid jungkook #bts mafia au #bts hybrid au #candywrites #if i can never give you peace

[willwriteforhugs]

the most beautiful girl i’ve ever known- jung hoseok

boyfriend! hobi x chubby! reader- one shot !

word count: 2.3k

genre: angst

synopsis: you’ve always struggled with confidence- it’s simply part of who you are. always the chubby student in the class, always the one wearing pants instead of a mini skirt. as an adult, you tried to make peace with it, but after a horrible run in with your coworker, you feel like you just can’t do it anymore- at least, until your boyfriend takes things into his own hands. hoseok’s determined to get you to realize your own beauty, and he’ll do anything for that to happen.

warnings: body-shaming, work harassment, swearing, minor arguing

a/n: wow, first bts fic, here we go...

this fic was requested by a sweet anon- and if they’re reading this, i hope i did the request justice! i think i did well, though i tried to treat the topic with love and respect.

i hope everyone enjoys <333

- - - 

your apartment building’s elevator makes a polite dinging noise as the doors slide smoothly shut- and for the second time since they opened, you thank god the small space is empty. 

elevators are generally silent places, but now the box is filled with the sound of your rushed, uneven breathing. you rotate so your back is pressed into the corner of the moving elevator, pressing a hand to your face. hot, silent tears stream down your cheeks. your thoughts are a jumbled mess: 

god, how embarrassing. crying in a public elevator. anyone could walk in right now. 

you try to take a stabilizing breath- but you quickly realize the attempt was in vain. your inhale causes you to hiccup and choke, making you cry even harder. you bury your face in your hands, wondering what you’d done to deserve this. 

‘why this body? why?’ you think to yourself. it was a thought that came all too quickly, and one you were familiar with.

you don’t think you were ugly, not necessarily- but you certainly don’t think you were desirable, either. being overweight had always had that effect- not complete hopelessness, but a serious lack of overall confidence. and it’s not like you can help it- you try your best to stay healthy, but genetics do what genetics do. so you are overweight. some days, that fact it didn’t bug you- but today was not one of those days.

in the moment, you feel yourself reach up down and clutch at your own arms, squeezing the soft flesh. you groan quietly, unwillingly reliving what had caused this spiral in the first place.

one hour ago:

you had begun the day in a positive mood, really- but that had all gone to shit once the work day began. 

you had a new coworker- mr. lee. he wasn’t your superior, but he liked to be called by his surname, apparently. he’d been hired on a whim two weeks ago, when the company lost the long time employee that previously held mr. lee’s position. 

the man, though being probably a decade your senior, had a childlike way of going about the work day. he laughed at things that weren’t funny, and tried to make conversation even when you had your earbuds in.

you hated him, naturally. 

he was just too much. over-caffeinated, controlling, and immature- basically everything you despised in a peer.

however- or up until today, at least- you’d been able to tolerate him. but while you were on lunch break, mr. lee drew the last straw with you.

he’d walked into the breakroom, already making too much noise. he was humming, and tapping his foot, and running the microwave, all at the same time. and, unfortunately, you were the only other person in the room- so he made a beeline straight for you. 

“afternoon, peach!” he’d said. you hated the nickname, and had no idea of its origins.

“hi,” you grumbled, staring down at your food.

“i didn’t see you come in this morning.”

you made a noncommittal noise. “got here early.”

“right.” the man replied. 

a beat passed, and the two of you settled into a stiff silence, only disrupted by the sound of your eating.

and finally, the vulture had a point of interest.

“you really gonna eat all that?” he’d said, looking pointedly down at your meal.

you’d frowned at the comment, and dodged the question. “why do you ask?” you’d replied.

“well, you know. didn’t think a girl like you would need all of that, right?”

you set your fork down, trying to keep your breathing even. before you had been able to come up with an answer, though, he’d continued:

“i mean, you should be trying to lose weight.” he leaned into the word ‘lose’, as if speaking to a child. 

you remember your anger had begun to dissipate, quickly replaced by offence and sadness. you’d stood up quickly, grabbing at your things so you could leave. 

mr. lee had frowned at your reaction. “come on now,” he’d said. “there’s no need to feel upset, i’m only being honest with you. you don’t want me to lie, do you? you’re fat, you may as well know.”

you spun on him. “and what’s so wrong with being fat?”

before he could supply you with an answer (which he surely thought he had) you’d stormed out of the room and requested the afternoon off.

and now here you are. 

you stumble a bit on your way out of the elevator, cursing as you nearly drop your bag. when you finally make it to your door, it takes three tries to get the code correct.

you sigh heavily as the door to your apartment swings open. to your surprise, you find the lights still on, and it takes you a moment to realize why. 

it’s friday.

hoseok had the day off. 

shit.

you kick off your shoes and shut the door quickly, abandoning any efforts to be quiet. your own sniffles seem loud as you scramble to shut yourself in the hallway bathroom. you don’t want him to see you like this- crying, puffy, and chubby as usual.

right as you slam the bathroom door shut, you hear his voice.

“y/n?”

you grimace, clamping a hand over your mouth to stifle the sounds of your crying. 

“y/n-ah, is that you?”

you hear your boyfriend pad into the hallway, and his steps falter when he discovers your belongings strewn about by the front door. there’s a pause, then the footsteps continue to the bathroom door- where, on the other side, you’re slumped against the cabinets. 

hoseok knocks gently. “y/n? love, are you alright? i thought you worked until five today...” 

when you don’t answer, he continues. “are you sick?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, and a small sob tears its way out of your mouth.

you can tell your boyfriend heard it, because his voice becomes even more frantic. “y/n?” he says, leaning against the door.

oh, hoseok. sweet, innocent hoseok. he was always so kind to you. you remember the day when he first asked you out- you’d been convinced it was a prank at first, but when you realized he was being genuine, you’d fallen for him instantly. now, you know that genuine was all hobi ever was.

he’d never called you fat. it had crossed your mind, of course- whether or not your size bugged him, or if he had to defend you to his friends- but whenever you’d been brave enough to ask about it, hoseok would always respond with: “of course not, my love, you’re beautiful.”

you’d never pushed it, though now you realize you always wanted to. 

now you remove your hand from your mouth, taking a shaky breath. your voice trembles as you finally respond: ‘”i’m okay, i’m- i’m not sick or anything.”

you hear your boyfriend’s body slide down the length of the door, ultimately settling on the ground in front of it. you lean forward so your head is pressed against the wood- the two of you are sitting face to face, with only the closed door keeping you apart.

“y/n-ah, talk to me.” hoseok says. “please.”

your shoulders shake as another wave of tears crashes over you. “i’m sorry,” you manage. “i’m just- i’m not feeling very good right now.”

you can tell hobi’s face is pressed into the door from how close his voice sounds. his words are tinged with distress. “what happened?”

you sigh, overwhelmed with shame and anger. you don’t want to tell him- but of course, you know you have to anyways. if for anything, just to wipe the sad curiosity out of his voice.

“you remember- do you remember how i have that awful new coworker?” you croak.

there was a pause, then: “the older one?” 

“yeah. he’s annoying. and rude.” 

“okay, yeah. i remember.” hoseok says quietly, urging you to continue.

you inhale slowly. “he just- he said some things to me today, and i-”

hobi interrupts you suddenly, his tone having gone sharp. “what kind of things?”

you pause. “he said... things about my body. he said i needed to lose weight.”

hoseok says nothing, which is always worrisome. you can practically feel his emotions through the solid wooden door- a chaotic mix of distress, concern, and red-hot fury.

after a moment, your boyfriend speaks up. “y/n-ah.”

you hum dully in response.

“can you please open the door?”

you frown, but decide not to fight it. you know he’s only trying to help. so you reach up and scoot back a few feet so that the door can open inwards. hoseok, who had been so faithfully slumped on the other side, shuffles inside the small bathroom, still on his knees.

when he meets your eyes, you can see his heartbreak, and he can see yours. without any hesitation, he reaches forward and takes your face in his hands, softly caressing your tear-streaked cheeks.

you lean into his touch, allowing your body to fall forward into his. he slips an arm around your abdomen in support. 

a few minutes pass without speaking, the air filled only with the sounds of hobi’s hand running over your back, and your laboured breathing.

finally, your counterpart speaks up. “y/n- is that all he said? the one thing?”

he places his hand on your jaw to lift your face away from his chest, wanting to meet your eyes.

you sigh, pulling away. “no, he- he told me that i should eat less, and that-” your breath catches. “well, he said i was fat.”

hoseok’s jaw clenches, and you shift in his arms. “what?” you whisper.

his eyes are aflame when he responds. “why would he say those things to you? i just- why did he think he’d have any right?”

you look away. “i don’t know. male workplace entitlement.”

hobi gives a wry chuckle. “that’s no excuse.”

“i know.”

“we’ll report him, alright? i will, if you won’t. that’s no way to be speaking to coworkers.”

you nod vaguely as hobi runs his hands up and down your arms. trapped underneath you, your right foot begin to fall asleep. 

“baby?” your boyfriend asks after a minute.

“do you think he’s right?” you burst, eyes burning. “do you think i need to lose weight?”

hoseok’s face falls, and he grasps at your wrists. “y/n,” he starts.

“no,” you interrupt. “really, hoseok. i- i’m not enough for you, am i? i don’t know why you stay with me. you’re way out of my league.”

“y/n!” hobi snaps. his tone is suddenly sharp.

you shut your mouth, already regretting your words.

“my love.” hoseok whispers, his voice breaking. “how could you say that?”

you choke on a dry sob, unable to answer.

your boyfriend’s eyes search your face, desperate for an answer that isn’t there. “how could you ever think that you aren’t good enough? and- what, just because you aren’t skinny?”

you look down at the floor as he continues, blinking rapidly. the tears really won’t stop. 

“that’s a silly way to think.” hoseok says quietly. “and i know that for a fact, y/n. because you are the most beautiful girl i’ve ever known. and you always will be, no matter how big you are. you could be four sizes smaller, or four sizes larger, and i would love you all the same.”

you burrow your face further into his chest. “you mean it?” your voice comes out in a whimper.

“absolutely.” he says, not hesitating. “there is no version of events where you aren’t good enough for me. you’re too good for me, honestly. sometimes i think you deserve better.”

you pull away now, frowning. “that’s not true.”

“why not?”

“well,” you falter. “because i love you. and i chose you. i chose you because i love you, and i don’t want anybody else.”

above you, hoseok smiles gently, waiting for you to hear your own words.

the realization hits, and you understand suddenly. he wanted you to say that, to hear it from yourself.

“oh,” you whisper.

“now do you get it?”

you sniffle, grateful that your tears have mostly subsided. “yeah,” you mumble. “i get it.”

“good.” hobi pauses. “i love you, y/n. and it doesn’t matter what anyone else says about you, because you’re gorgeous, and you’re important. and you will never be defined by your body. i’ll call your office and report that awful guy, alright?”

you nod silently.

“okay.” he says, nudging your arm. “now how about you get cleaned up? since you’re home early we can spend the whole evening together if you’d like.”

you perk up at that. “oh- yes, i want to.”

hoseok smiles. “i thought so. here-” he rises to his feet, extending a hand to help you. you take it, placing your palm in his. he lifts you to standing, then smiles again.

“don’t worry, my love. i’ll fix your mood right up. i even have some sample tracks i could show you!”

you smile gently. “that sounds nice.”

as he turns to leave, you clear your throat. “hoseok.”

he turns quickly, eyebrows raised. “hmm?”

you gesture for him to come closer, and as soon as he’s in arm’s reach, you lean over and kiss him.

it’s a gentle kiss, really. a kiss that says i love you, and a kiss that says thank you, for everything.

hoseok hums into your mouth, hands quickly finding your waist. you lean into him, body and mind buzzing. kissing hoseok is your favorite, because each time is just a little different. 

your hands find his hair, and you smile against his mouth. you can feel him smile back.

he kisses you for just a moment longer, then pulls away. 

he rests his forehead on yours, sighing lightly.

and you know that you have never felt more loved, more beautiful, more safe, then you do in that moment, with him. 

#bts imagines #bts #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts x y/n #bts x reader #hobi #jung hoseok #jhope x reader #bts jhope #jhope fanfic #jung hoseok x reader #kpop #kpop angst #kpop fics #kpop smut #kpop writing #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jungkook #bts namjoon #min yoogni #jimin #bts v #bts jin #kpop au