#im getting the emotional stings in my fingertips

[bullet-prooflove]

Real: Nestor Oceteva x Reader

A companion piece to: An Act of War

Tagging: @annetje @anime-weeb-4-life @danzer8705 @drabbles-mc @alwaysachorusgirl @witches-unruly-heart @mysoulisasunflower @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @est1887

There’s silence, that’s all Nestor can hear as he sits on the couch, you’d fallen asleep on last night wearing nothing but one of his button up shirts. He remembers coming in late and smoothing the hair away from your features as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. The blanket that had covered your legs was still tossed over the arm, a chaotic testimony to your presence. He couldn’t bring himself to look at it. Instead, he gulps from a tumbler of scotch and feels the burn ignite in his chest.

He's tried your cell phone, and it’s had gone straight to voicemail.

It never goes straight to voicemail.

He doesn’t bother to leave a message; he knows there was no point.

It’s you in that burnt out car. He hopes that you hadn’t known the end was coming, that it was over before you realised what was happening.

He fills the glass once more and sags back onto the sofa, his eyes closing, blocking out the world around him. He doesn’t want to be here in the home that the two of you have made together, in the place that’s brought him so much joy. His eyes sting and he pinches the bridge of his nose to stave off the tears that threaten to overwhelm him. He remembers the last time he felt like this, sitting on his brother’s bed after the funeral, staring at a picture of the two of them as kids.

One night, he promises himself, sucking in a breath. One night to wallow, one night to grieve, one night to bury the pain, one night to get numb. He’s coming for them after that, he’s releasing that vitriol, that agony, that rage and he’s going to burn their fucking lives down around them and salt the earth.

He’s half a bottle in when he hears the scrape of the key in the lock. It’s quiet, just the scrape of metal and he just fucking knows that they’ve coming to finish the job. He wonders who it will be on the other side of that door, will he recognise the face, or will it be some nameless stranger?

He almost lets it happen. He wants the release that comes with death, he wants the anguish he feels in his chest to die with him. He wants to see you again, even if it’s in the afterlife. But he also knows you wouldn’t want this for him, that you’d want him to fight it, to find a way to keep on living.

The gun is already in his hand as the door opens, his finger on the trigger as he holds it at chest height. He may be drunk but he’s sure he can still hit centre mass if he has to.

When you step through the door he freezes. His heart fucking stops in his chest because he feels like he’s seeing a fucking ghost. You look tired, there’s a sprinkling of dust in your hair and on your jeans. Your jacket is slung over your arm as you close the door behind you softly. It isn’t until you look up, your eyes resting on the gun in his hand, you realise that anything’s wrong.

“Nestor?” You question.

He’s on his feet in an instant, gun clattering on the coffee table. You don’t know what’s happening but you’re suddenly wrapped in his arms and it feels like he doesn’t want to let you go. He smells like smoke and scotch, there’s a tremble in his shoulders, you can feel the muscles quivering underneath your fingertips.

“Tell me that you’re real.” He whispers against your skin, his breathing ragged as he clasps you close. His voice is broken, you can hear the emotion in it as he chokes. “Tell me that I’m not dreaming and you’re really here.”

You’ve never seen him like this, so raw, so distraught. It breaks your fucking heart. Your palm comes to rest on the nape of his neck, your thumb tracing the curves of the tattoo that’s inked behind his left ear.

“I’m real.” You tell him softly. “I’m here my love.”

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#nestor oceteva x you #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor mayans #nestor oceteva #mayans fx #mayans mc #mayans

[daydreamingdragon]

.

#i hate it so fucking much #when my crush mentions anything about his gf #it was just a super quiet mutter to himself #a little reminder to do something w her or for her i dont even know #but hearing it just fuckin #stabbed me straight in the heart #im getting the emotional stings in my fingertips #it just ruined my fuckin mood #ruined my appetite #ruined everything #im legit on the fence about staying and hanging out the rest of the night #but i know my depression and anxiety gets worse when i retreat like that #also fomo lol #i wanna gibbs slap him so much

[spencers-renaissance]

Shovel Talk

Summary: Hotch and Emily find out about Derek's relationship with Spencer and decide it's time for a chat.

Tags: fluff, humour, est. rel., protective!derek, emily, and hotch, relationship reveal, mentions of past hurt spencer

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Inspired by this post by @penemily that I couldn't stop thinking about. Honestly I love this fic so much lol.

Derek isn’t quite sure how he’s found himself in a vacant office after hours, crowded into an office chair with broken wheels as the two most intimidating FBI agents he knows stand over him.

“Either of you want to tell me what the hell’s going on?” Derek asks, bewildered by how quickly his evening had changed. One minute he’s sneaking looks at Spencer over his computer screen, and the next he’s hauled off to a private room like some sort of hostage.

He’s not scared, but he’s definitely a little pissed off. It’s nearing 10pm and all he wants to do is go home with Spencer, curl up on the sofa and eat take-out in front of the TV as they celebrate closing a case in their own way. He used to celebrate by going out for a drink, falling into bed with a stranger if the opportunity arose, but a quiet evening on the sofa with his boy in his arms is surprisingly satisfying these days.

Hotch raises an eyebrow. “We know,” he says simply, something fierce behind his words.

Derek’s heart skips a beat. It’s not hard to figure out what it is he’s talking about. He and Spencer had started dating a couple of months ago but had decided to keep it under wraps for now; something so young and beautiful was too precious to expose to all the inevitable eventual complications just yet. They’re so ridiculously smitten, though, that he’s not exactly surprised two profilers paying close attention had figured it out.

Ignoring the quietly humming nerves starting up in his stomach, he mirrors Hotch’s raised eyebrow, trying not to look as affected as he feels. “So… what? You wait for Spencer to go to the bathroom to lure me to an empty office to beat me up?”

“Maybe,” Emily replies, voice dry.

Behind the nerves and the posturing, Derek can’t feel a small twinge of hurt. “Look, guys, we expected it to be a bit of a shock, but we thought you’d at least be happy for us—”

“It’s not a shock,” Hotch interrupts.

“What?”

“It’s not a shock,” Emily repeats. “Everyone saw this coming a mile off. We’re not surprised.”

Now, he’s even more lost. “Look, can you guys just sit down? You towering over me is creeping me out, man.”

“Good,” Hotch says easily.

Irritation takes over, and he stands up. “You know what, if you’re gonna be funny about it, I don’t actually have to be here.”

Before he can actually make to leave, though, Hotch is shoving him back down into the chair, old metal and plastic creaking under the force of his caught-off-guard body hitting it again. “Stay.”

“What is going on?” Derek explodes. Maybe under different circumstances he’d be able to profile the situation but as it stands, he’s stressed and confused, desperate only to be allowed to leave this dark, cramped room and take Spencer back to his place. It almost surprises him that all he craves in such a weird and unfamiliar situation is cuddles and a nature documentary, but he’s been with Spencer long enough for it to be approaching normal. The younger man’s probably back at his desk by now, wondering where he is, and Derek would hate for him to be worried. He just wants to go home.

“Derek, we are happy for you and Spencer,” Emily finally explains. “But we couldn’t in good conscience let this go on without having a… chat.” Her face twists into the faux charming expression he’s watched her use to disarm unsubs countless times. It stings a little that she’s using it on him.

He splutters a little as a realisation dawns on him, equal parts bemused and offended. “This is… this is a shovel talk!”

“Yes,” Hotch says with a straight face, his expression tight and intimidating as he tilts his head to the side slightly, clearly entirely unaffected by Derek’s emotions. “This is a shovel talk.”

Derek feels himself relax, tension easing slightly. “Guys, I appreciate the sentiment, but Spencer’s my boyfriend; nobody wants to protect him more than I do. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m pretty sure we could give you a run for your money,” Emily says, her expression quickly transforming into something far more dangerous and challenging than only moments previously. “Spencer has something every single member of this team would die to protect. And if you get in our way, then we’re going to have a problem.”

“Emily, what, we’re friends.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, shrugging easily, “and I love you. But Spencer is my little brother, and I would do anything to stop him from getting hurt. As long as you don’t interfere with my primary mission, we’ll be fine.”

Hotch speaks before Derek can get a word in. “Derek, I knew Spencer long before you did. I remember the first time Gideon brought him to one of our lunches, and I saw something in him that made my heart ache. It didn’t take me long to realise that what I saw were the scars left by incredible deep-seated pain. Spencer has been through hell and back throughout his life, and he’s been hurt repeatedly by people who were supposed to protect him, including Gideon. I would do anything to prevent him from getting hurt by someone like that again, you hear me? Anything.”

As confusing as this all is, Derek can’t help but feel touched by Hotch’s earnest, emotional speech. Most of his nightmares these days revolve around Spencer getting hurt, and it’s kind of reassuring to know that he has so many people in the world who will stop at nothing to prevent those horrible dreams from spiralling into reality.

He can’t help but smile a little. “I’m glad he has you two,” Derek says honestly, looking between them, “but I can assure you that if I ever hurt Spencer for some unfathomable reason, your services wouldn’t be needed. I would hate myself enough for all three of us.” Even just considering the hypothetical possibility of hurting Spencer makes his stomach turn: it’s enough for him to know that he wouldn’t need Hotch and Emily to hold him accountable to that, his own self-loathing would be punishment enough.

It seems to appease Hotch and Emily, who Derek realises look sort of like intimidating twin mafia bosses standing over him like this, and they finally step back a little, posture relaxing.

“Well, what are you waiting for then?” Emily says, smiling for real this time. “Get your boy and get home. It’s getting late, you know.”

He rolls his eyes at her as he makes his way to the door.

“Oh, and Derek,” Hotch says, laying a hand on his shoulder, turning him before he can leave, a genuine smile on his face too, “I am actually happy for you and Spencer.”

Derek grins at that. He really is a lucky, lucky man. “Thanks, Hotch.”

“What was that about?” Spencer asks, his features twisting in curiosity as Derek makes his way across the bullpen to his boyfriend, Hotch and Emily emerging from the same room moments later.

Derek doesn’t answer properly, laughing instead. “You got some good friends, you know that?”

Spencer nods, still looking a little confused, but clearly deciding to let it go as he slings his messenger bag across his body, standing up from his desk. Derek slings an arm around Spencer’s shoulders, leading him towards the exit as his insides twist at the adorable blush that colours Spencer’s cheeks so prettily.

“Derek,” he hisses, “shouldn’t we be leaving separately?”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” he chuckles, looking over his shoulder. Spencer does the same, blushing even fiercer as he spots Hotch and Emily leaning against the railing, overlooking the bullpen with all-knowing looks on their faces.

“Oh my god,” Spencer mumbles, clearly embarrassed, but Derek just laughs again as they leave the bullpen and approach the elevators.

“Come on, pretty boy,” he sighs happily, sliding the arm around his shoulders to rest at his waist, fingertips pressing into the small frame of the boy he’s already falling in love with. “Let’s get you home. That penguin documentary awaits.”

“You’re gonna watch Emperors and Kings with me?” Spencer’s happy exclamation and the delighted expression on his face only warms his heart further, and in that moment he decides that he wants a happy Spencer and another nature documentary within his reach for the rest of his life.

Surprisingly, it’s not as terrifying a thought as it might once have been.

(If Derek thinks the shovel talk from Hotch and Emily is bad, though, it’s nothing compared to the one he gets from Penelope. By the end of the next day, he’s somehow reduced to tears that are both happy and the product of extreme terror, on the receiving end of a ‘baby girl’ ban for keeping it from her for so long. In the end, he decides that it’s probably an alright price to pay for everything beautiful that his life has blossomed into over the last few months.)

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @jellejareau @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @queerminalminds (taglist form)

#cm #criminal minds #my writing #cm fic #cm fanfiction #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #moreid #moreid fic #moreid fanfiction #derek morgan x spencer reid #spencer reid x derek morgan #derek morgan/spencer reid #spencer reid/derek morgan

[capaimagines]

im changkyun - i’ll always be there

Pairing: Im Changkyun x Reader | Genre: angst & fluff | Warnings: anxiety/panic attack, mentions of depression, self-depreciating thoughts, mild self-harm (unintentional) | WC: 2.0k

Request: Hi loves! Can I please request a changkyun fic where the reader suffers from serious anxiety and depression and she tries really hard for him to go out and she does but breaks down and has a panic attack and he doesn't know what to do because he is unaware of her condition

Changkyun knew that you were more of homebody. He’d known that since you were kids. The two of you had been friends since you were little. Your mom’s were best friends which meant most of his weekends were spent being dragged to yours to play while your mom’s chatted and did their thing.

Changkyun was always more adventurous than you, he enjoyed exploring and meeting new people. You could never understand how two people who were polar opposites could get along but it worked for you two. However, Changkyun wasn’t aware of just how bad your anxiety about going out was, or more importantly, how low you have been feeling recently.

He knew you really struggled with your emotions and he always did his best to pick you up and be there for you. When you had been offered the perfect job; working from home and only having to go into the office for large meetings every so often, you were ecstatic. Though that meant you had to move to the city. You were ready to turn the opportunity down until Changkyun, like he always did, came to be your knight in shining armor.

So the two of you moved out and lived together. You felt guilty for taking him away from all his friends and family, but he always assured you over and over again that he was fine and this was a new adventure for him also.  He did well living in the city, he was able to land a job as producer for a large company and while there were nights where he didn’t come home, he truly seemed to be enjoying himself.

However, you were struggling. A terrible downside of being too nervous to leave the comfort of your apartment always led to your depression coming back. You would manage small walks here and there to try and get out and soak in the sun, but you would quickly return home mid panic attack.

Changkyun wasn’t too aware of all this. He had been working later and later recently and he had barely been home all week. You were spiraling into the black abyss and you couldn’t pull yourself out. You could at least manage to shower and seem normal when Changkyun was home, but the moment he left, you were stuck alone with your thoughts.

Your head was constantly telling you that no one would want you as a friend. That Changkyun was just taking pity on you, he was tired of you or you were too plain, too boring. You deserved to be alone and you were starting to believe that was your destiny. To be alone with no one around. To live in the dark hole for the rest of your life.

You snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of your phone ringing. You couldn’t even muster up the energy to smile at Changkyun’s name.  

“Y/N?” You hadn’t even realized you picked it up.  

“O-oh. Changkyun-ah,” If he noticed how tired you sounded he didn’t say anything.  

“Hey, my friends would really like to meet you. We’re supposed to be getting dinner in a few hours and they asked me to invite you. Can you come? Please? It’d be nice to get you out of the apartment and I promise you it will be fun!” Inwardly you were already starting to panic. Saying no to Changkyun was something you always had trouble with.

“Okay,” You mustered out and Changkyun promised to pick you up in a few hours. You shakily stood on your legs and gave yourself a cold shower. You had hoped it would knock the anxiety bubbling up but it didn’t. You didn’t know how you were going to make it through a meal with strangers, but you didn’t want to embarrass Changkyun either.

You already embarrass him.

His friends are going to think you’re weird.

You don’t deserve a friend like Changkyun.

You sighed, shaking your head. You had to do this for him, he never asked you for much. This wasn’t anything big. He simply just wanted you to meet his friends. Two hours later you were sitting on the couch in the best clothes you owned, leg bouncing up at down. You were squeezing your hands together in hopes to quell the anxiety. Though It was no use.

The minute Changkyun walked in and called your name you felt your heart rate spike. You didn’t know if you could do this, but there your best friend stood, in his skinny jeans and t-shirt with a large smile on his face. You couldn’t let him down. You always let him down.  

“You okay?” He questioned which you blinked at him and offered what you hoped was a happy smile and nodded slightly.  

“Y-yeah. I’m fine. Let’s go!”

You hooked your arm in his and he smiled brightly down at you before leading you to the car. The whole way to the restaurant Changkyun was talking about something that you didn’t catch a word of. Your eyes were trained on the windshield, heart pounding in your chest. You felt warm, too warm. You felt lightheaded and like you couldn’t breathe.  

“P-pull over,” You stuttered

“What?” Changkyun asked confusedly.

“Changkyun, please,” You pleaded, “ I-I need you to pull over.”

You felt like you were going to vomit. It felt all too small and crowded in the car. There wasn’t enough air. Changkyun pulled over, worried. Encasing his features as you stumbled out of the car as you leaned against the brick wall of whatever building was in front of you. Your breathing was erratic, the cold air was doing nothing to quell what felt like fire on your skin. You were dizzy, the world was spinning.

You slid down, placing your back against the cool bricks and trying to control your breathing, trying to feel anything but the pins and needles in your fingertips. Your legs felt numb. There were too many people walking around, too many people staring at you. You started gasping for air, fingernails digging into your forearm. You didn’t feel the sting when they broke the skin.

“Y/N! Hey! Y/N!” You knew that was Changkyun’s voice, but it sounded so panicked. He sounded scared, worried. You could feel a warmth grab your hands and you looked down trying to find the source. Changkyun was holding your hands in his, pulling them away from your arm. You noticed the little specks of blood on your forearm. When did that happen?

“Y/N!” Changkyun raised his voice slightly, “I need you to look at me!” You felt his calloused hands roughly grab at your chin and through your gazed look you could make out Changkyun’s worried orbs.

“C-Changkyun?” You stuttered weakly. It felt a little easier to breathe.  

“It’s me honey. L-let’s get you home, okay? ”You somehow managed to nod and he pulled you up as you leaned all your weight against him. You were mentally and physically drained.

He sat you in the car and ran around, turning back towards your home. He didn’t say anything, but you could hear how his fingers were drumming on the steering wheel. You felt guilty. Extremely guilty. All he wanted from you was to have one meal with his friends and you couldn’t even make it there. You don’t deserve him. You hold him back from so much. He left everything for you and you can’t even go out for a meal with him.

You let your thoughts take over, falling deeper and deeper into the darkness clouding you. You hadn’t even noticed you were back at your apartment building until Changkyun lightly grabbed your arm. His eyes scanned yours for what felt like hours but was only a few seconds. He was trying to find answers, trying to understand what had just happened.

You shakily followed him back into your apartment and went straight to your room. You collapsed on your bed, curling into the fetal position with a plushy he had won you at some stupid carnival when you were teenagers in between you. You let the tears fall, hating yourself for how pathetic you had become.  Your thoughts were right. Changkyun would be much better off without you.

You hadn’t heard him walk in or feel him sit down on the bed next to your feet. He was watching you, observing you. When had the circles under your eyes become so big and dark? Why did it look like you had lost more weight? Had he been so busy he didn’t even notice how bad his best friend was hurting? How much you needed him?

“Y/N,” He murmured and your breath hitched. You sat up, throwing your arms around his neck and sobbing into his shoulder.  

“I’m so s-s-sorry, Kyun. I’m so s-sorry! I-I can’t do anything! I can’t e-even go out f-f-for a proper meal w-with you! I’m such a waste of a human!” His eyes were wide as you blabbered on about how you were a terrible person and friend.

How you sobbed about how sorry you were for holding him back, for making him feel like he needs to stay here with you. He pulled you away from his shoulder, tears and snot running down your face as he just stared at you. You continued to sob and he gently started wiping tears away and cleaning your nose with the tissues by your bed.  

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was low and you were surprised you heard it over your cries.

“There was nothing to tell. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. You should go meet your friends,” Whatever emotions that had just exploded out of you were now gone. Now you just sounded empty, felt empty. You were tired and you just wanted to sleep. You pulled away from his grasp and laid down, staring at the wall in front of you.  

“Are you fucking joking me?” He replied back harshly.

You winced a little at his harsh tone. You’d only seen him angry a handful of times but it was never directed at you, “You think I’m just going to go see my friends when you’re feeling like this? Are you stupid?” He was kneeling in front of you now, in your line of vision. You couldn’t say anything. You were too tired now.

“You’re my best fucking friend, L/N Y/N. I am not leaving you. I’m here. I’m always here,” His voice was low again, but desperate. He needed you to know that he was there for you, always. That you are one of the most important people in his life, if not, the most important, “You do not hold me back. You aren’t a shitty friend.”

He made sure you were listening to him, hearing him.

“You’re one of the best people in my life. You always have been. You make me laugh. You always make sure there’s food waiting for me whether I come home or not. You do my laundry because you know that I’ll shrink it. You text me every day and scold me to eat and drink water. You have food delivered to my studio,” He continued to ramble.

You felt a new wave of tears sting your eyes, “You,” He grabbed your hand with one of his and squeezed it tight, “You are my person. My best friend. I am always here. When you’re sad, when you’re mad, when you feel nothing. I’m here. I’ll always be here Y/N,” You squeezed his hand back with as much strength as you could muster. He smiled. He knew you were too tired to speak but he knew you heard him.

“Now scooch over. We’re watching your favorite movie, I’ll order us some takeout and we’re going to cuddle until I see a genuine smile on your face, dammit,” You let out a small chuckle and moved over. He smiled weakly down at you before crawling next to you and pulling your head to his chest. This was your best friend. This was your person. You couldn’t let yourself doubt that, ever.

“I’ll always be there,” He murmured as you closed your eyes.

#monsta x #monsta x fluff #monsta x angst #monsta x imagines #monsta x x reader #monsta x im #IM #im changkyun #im changkyun angst #im changkyun fluff #monsta x changkyun #shownu #jooheon #hyungwon #kihyun #minhyuk

[notnctu]

Hiii can you guys please write a drabble on Taeyong + 53 and 67?? it would be great if you guys could write it as a Taeyong badboy smut! btw, Congrats on reaching the milestone ❤️

im so happy that we’re able to celebrate together <3 thank you for reading and dropping us a request bb :) i hope you enjoy!! you can read it under the cut

-author doie ❀

badboy!taeyong + fem!reader prompt #53 & #67 - “You’re an addiction.” & “What are you doing here? It’s late.” genre - smut (fingering, slight corruption kink?)

here taeyong stands foolishly in front of your door with a fresh red gash across his upper cheekbone and a purple painful bruise on the corner of his lips. he rings your doorbell and the chime startles you.

it’s past midnight and if it weren’t for your studies, you would be snuggled in bed by now. looking through the peephole, taeyong paces back and forth with an alarming cut on his face.

without another second of hesitation, you open the door and he halts at your cozy appearance, his forgotten shirt he left a while back and the lack of bottoms. “what are you doing here? it’s late.” crossing your arms, you shift your weight on your left leg.

“y’know, i took a gamble to see if you’d still be awake. i know it’s well past my baby’s bedtime.” he enters without needing an invitation and before you can sigh again at his random nicknames, you’re reminded of the jarring cut on his porcelain skin.

“yet you showed up anyways, like it’s an emergency room.” you motion for him to grab the first aid kit that sits alone against the wall. it’s clearly not the first time he’s shown up rather rough.

he follows you into your room and spreads his arms to plant onto your bed. “don’t you know? you’re an addiction. i’ll never be able to get enough of you.” his boyish smile is a charm nonetheless, as you pat for him to sit up so you can tend to his injury.

you’re no nurse, but he runs to your care as if you are one. fight after fight, he seeks comfort in you as if you could heal any physical and emotional pain he always felt. you dab the alcoholic pad on the cut, and taeyong winces at the consequential stinging sensation.

“fuck, that really hurts.” he grumbles and takes a hold of your free hand.

“maybe stop getting into unnecessary brawls with people who have skin breaking fists.” he laughs at your serious, bold sarcasm. he likes you so much, but he would never be able to fully have you.

“you’re the one who fell for someone like me.” taeyong plays along with your light banter and you shoot him a dagger stare. and he melts under your strong gaze.

“i’m pretty sure you fell for me first. so maybe you should’ve fell for a bad bitch instead of a normal me.” you tape the bandage over the clean gash and he catches your wrist as it falls.

“first all, my baby.... you are a bad bitch.” you roll your eyes, not out of annoyance but complete bashfulness. this man knows no shame when it comes to complimenting you. “and that’s not how addiction works. i’m too hooked on you to want anyone else.” he lifts your chin to hold the smoldering eye contact.

“you know what i meant..” you mumble, but taeyong cuts you off with a hot kiss before you can continue. kissing him is always a thrilling experience, like danger at the tip of your tongue. the rings that line his fingers feel cold when they press against the base of your neck.

taeyong carefully places the kit on the ground as he turns your back to rest on the mattress. he runs a warm hand up your bare thighs, eyes drinking up your vulnerability. taeyong rolls off your cotton panties and uses his thumb to rub your clit.

your back arches from the bed out of shock. a low grunt escapes from the back of taeyong’s throat as he tosses his rings on your bedside table. then, he slowly inserts two fingers into your wetness. “had to make sure you’re ready for me.” his smile is dark, and you feel his fingertips rubbing at your plush flesh.

“give me what you came here for.” your words are confident, despite your withering body at his fingers. a few more ensuring pumps, his fingers glisten from your juices. he tastes you, licking them clean and groaning at your deliciousness.

“as you wish, princess.” his clothing end up somewhere with the first aid kit on the floor and he rolls the rubber on for safety measures. normally, he’d ease himself in with his tip and give you a slow agonizing stretch.

tonight, he rams into you so abruptly that there’s no time to adjust to his length. you scream as he pushes your legs into your chest to fuck you deeper. “you’re still so tight, even after all the nights we’ve fucked.”

he drags himself out, then pushes back in until your head hits the headboard. “are you trying to break me?” you whine at the intensity of his powerful thrusts.

“i’m trying to ruin you, my perfection.” a flash of lust catches your eye, as he presses your hips into the blankets. your hands hold his wrists to stabilizes yourself from the impact, you aren’t sure how many times your head can withstand the banging.

but he holds you with vein popping arms, one paper cut and he’s a goner. taeyong fucks you harder, upon your request, to build your worlds so high to only have it come crumbling down. he feels a small squeeze from you, and angles himself to pound you into a temporary blissful escape.

you breathe his name once before coming undone, gripping onto his dick sporadically and the leg shaking sensation runs throughout your lower half. and taeyong drinks up your euphoric reaction and soon, follows with his own ruinous crashing high.

you both catch your breath, and he leans down to pamper small pecks on your lips. he whispers softly, “like i said before, it’s way past your bedtime sweetheart.” his forehead rests against your own.

“stay tonight?” there is a small beg in your voice. and how could he ever say no to you?

#nct smut #nct scenarios #taeyong scenarios #taeyong smut #nct reactions #nct requests #nct asks #theres still alot more request coming!! #pls b patient with us !! we will get to everyone soon

[axolot-of-ideas]

A song fic for a song that doesn’t exactly exist.

~

So this is a little different isn’t it?

A Song Fic for what? Empty air? Radio static?

For a song that’s as real as the letters you send back to the apologies that have seen nothing but the bottom of my drawers?

It’s funny now. To write something that Im determined to have people see. Not hiding it behind aliases and extra blogs organized for my eyes only and whatever sorry soul decides to poke around my thoughts.

Though to write a song fic when my hands can barely write enough to pull the carriage return back into place on a type writer? I would have to be a desperate man. Or crazy.

It’s just my luck that I happen to both.

But. Then again, What really is a Song Fic? You get what? Names and locations? Relationships and emotions from how the music spikes and bites at your ears?

And if you’re lucky you’ll get a few lyrics here and there you’ll don’t have to write yourself. Or perhaps you bend them to your will.

Playing god as your fingers write your own prophecies and hymns. Playing god for your own fiction. Bending words and phrases into pictures and emotions.

Because that’s all a god is to most of us now, isn’t it? Someone who bent hard enough to turn their words into religion. Gods are just as human as all of us. At least the good ones are…

Now that leaves me here. Bending melodies without words and lyrics without rhythm into something.

Something that owns my thoughts and soul.

You may need someone to believe in you to be a god. But I think tonight, I’m just enough.

So what’s this one about?

Maybe it’s about love. Or regret.

Part of me hopes its about apologizes whispered over voice recordings as we send them softly between each other.

This one is about a lot of things. A lot of hope and dreams, and promises; Broken and kept.

Mostly it’s 3 things.

It’s about poison so cartoonishly purple that you would have half a mind to laugh as it burned warmly down your throat. To laugh with it as the warmth of it slowly decayed your insides. To feel the cold of the glass as the heat in your gut pulls you slowly to your knees and yanks your soul even lower through the ground. To love it as it protected you from the brunt of the world’s cruel with its own twisted protection and comfort, because poison doesn’t know any better.

It’s about fire so red it makes you feel like sin and lust itself was wrapped in its match head. Fire so hot and warm at the same time that you couldn’t mind the burns at your throat as you huddle close. It was the flames that cauterized your wounds, hot flames stinging your skin and setting every ounce of belief into smoke as prayers. Flames that burned cold comfort into your skin, smoke that protected you from the monster that lurked in the corners the light couldn’t reach. And suddenly when it goes out with little more then warning, you’ll be left with nothing but blue fingertips and burns that scar deeper than any blade. Maybe the fire did warn you, maybe through the smoke if you were smart enough to see it you would have seen it sparking and clawing for its own life as it protected yours.

It’s about ice so blue that it numbs everything you ever imagined. It looks like the sea froze over, leaving it a frosted state of deep blue. It leaves you wondering what lies inside as your lips turn blue. It feels like when your lover climbs into bed next to you, and you feel obligated to share what little warmth you have left on it, a smile plastered to your face through chattering teeth. It’s comforting, freezing with your hand clasped in another’s. It almost makes you forget what warmth feels like and the comfort in it, as you lay in the snow; bones chilled to fragility in ice as blue as the seas it froze over.

Or maybe it’s about 4 things.

Maybe it’s about nature so green and filled with life to support you. Greens of the forest and swamps. The green of frogs that make you smile. Green- warm and comforting, green that reminds you of trees. Green trees supportive and shady. Maybe it’s climbing trees or taking hikes. Maybe its the grass you chase your friends in. Maybe Green is comforting and safe. Green is nice and warm despite it being a cool color. Green reminds you of everything you wish to be, it reminds you of growth. Or maybe- It just reminded you of Kermit the Frog.

Maybe it’s about the moon so silver its nearly a blinding white. Silver of metals being formed into rings and weapons and tools. Maybe its the silver coats of wolves running through the forest. Maybe its silvery pens writing down essays and equations as you watch from their bed, laughing as you tease them again. Perhaps it’s metal trinkets and toys from your childhood. Maybe it’s the shine in their eyes as they talk about that thing they love. Silver reminds you of strength and solid things, reminds you of memories that you’ll never forget and things that will barely bend. Or maybe- It just reminds you of an icon someone uses of a wolf and a moon.

Maybe it’s about their smiles so warm and orange it makes its color known in the emotions. Orange like the laughs that ring out between you. Warm and homey, orange is so close to fire you think it might burn. But orange just takes your hand and keeps it close, it doesn’t scar and burn. Orange simply warms. Maybe orange is warm honey. Maybe it’s citrus fruit you share with friends. Orange reminds you of hanging out with friends, it reminds you of smiles, warmth, and home. Or maybe- It just reminds you of an old icon someone once drew, the orange against the black background so recognizable.

Maybe it’s about lavenders so purple its a pop of color against the green around it. Maybe it’s the color of poison types in a pokémon game. The color of your favorite flowers. Maybe its the color of grape lollipops that you share with some friends. Maybe it’s the color of paints staining your hands because you love the color. Maybe it’s a purple pen you store on your friends desk to help them with work. Maybe purple reminds others of hugs and smiles, reminds them of late night calls and talks where nothing but support and love comes from the other end. Or maybe- It just reminds them of you, because purple deserves to be its own color and you have claimed it for yourself.

And maybe I lied.

This isn’t for a song that doesn’t exist.

It exists somewhere.

The lyrics spoken with honest love and support.

The melody in laughs shared through calls and texts.

The rhythm stored within matching heartbeats as you hold each other close.

It means a lot of different of things but I think…

I think it’s my favorite song.

#writing #dude idk what this is #its 4am and this took like 4 hours to write after reading devil/johnny fanfiction m #im so hhhhhh #though you know- this is all true #granted its hidden somewhere in the metaphors but this is true #everything i think #there’s a lot of symbolism in it #and how its written too #like the second half is uncertain but confident #it mentions more than one thing per color and its just so much more than what the first was #the poison in the first was a combination of the red and blue which brings a contrast to whats said in the lavender section #lavender connects to the other things in that section too #and if you know what this is mostly about im pretty sure you can break it down #and hey- i love you guys #im pretty sure they’ll know who they are and who that’s directed towards #you’ve helped so much #im gonna go sleep for 12 hours now #my heat and my booster shot is killing me- im so fucking tired my guy #save for later

[ardett]

all dead hearts to you

Description: George and Dream have never met in person. It isn’t a problem until Dream calls George to tell him he’s going to kill himself.

check this out on Ao3 if you wanna be cool!

Author’s Note: Not me crashing recklessly into another fandom (also this is assuming sapnap went home to Texas after living with dream idk let me live)

title from Dead Hearts by Stars

also I'm new here, anyone wanna give me a welcome to the boys?

warnings: suicide warning (obviously) but no actual suicide, general anxiety and panic attacks

It’s 3am when George gets Dream’s call. 

Late, but only really for him. It’s still before midnight in Florida, right around 10pm. He’d like to say that he’s so practiced with converting time zones that he doesn’t even have to think about it but he still has to count backwards on his fingers, thinking on the jump between late late nights and early mornings.

He’s still awake but the leds in his room have been turned to red, set to the dimmest mode. He was streaming with Quackity up until about half an hour ago and his room has settled back into quiet again.

He feels the thrum of anxiety as he hears the ringtone. Dream usually only calls him when George is about to sleep through something important or if he’s on the road. George wonders if he forgot something today or maybe he let something slip on his call with Quackity.

Now that it’s on his mind, he realizes that he hasn’t heard from Dream all day. Or yesterday?

They’ve both been busy, though George has been busy with the usual things and Dream said something about needing to put his affairs in order or whatever that meant. They usually text at least but even that has been quieter.

George grabs his phone off his desk and picks up the call.

“Dream. What’s up?” he asks. George runs a quick hand through his hair, checking his screen quickly. It’s a real phone call, not even a discord call. “Hey, I’m putting you on speaker. I’m gonna put on my pajamas.”

He’s about to set the phone on his dresser when Dream says, “Oh, I probably shouldn’t be on speaker.”

There’s something off in his tone. Something flat. It sets George’s nerves on edge. 

“Yeah? Okay.” George tucks the phone back by his ear, slumping back on his bed. “Did you have something you had to tell me?”

“Yeah. George, I’m going to kill myself.”

Everything in George stills.

And then starts to spin.

“What?”

“I’m going to—”

“You’re not serious.” George jerks upright, ignoring the lightheaded feeling sinking its fingers into his skull. “Dream, this isn’t funny.”

“I don’t think it is. It’s just going to happen.” 

There’s not even a tremor in Dream’s voice. George can’t feel anything past the bone deep shock in his system.

All he can think of is Dream, wrists bloody and split open. Dream, fingertips dusted white with the residue of unnamed pills. Dream, rope burns fracturing the long line of his neck. 

Dream, dead.

How is he even going to do it? Is he actually going to do it? George wants to ask but then he realizes he doesn’t want to know.

He imagines the first time he sees Dream in person is when he attends his funeral.

He imagines all the words he’s held in for so long, waiting and waiting for the moment he could say them to Dream face to face, finally being said to dead air.

But George can’t say that so all he manages is an obstinate, “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Stop disagreeing with me.”

“George,” Dream laughs. Laughs.

George feels dizzy with the disbelief swirling inside him. Surely this can’t be happening. What reason would Dream have to make this up though? Dream would never joke about something like this. Why is he laughing? 

How can Dream be so casual when George’s world is shattering? 

He doesn’t know what a future without Dream looks like.

They’ve always lived miles apart but Dream has never felt so far away. George has never felt like this. Like he couldn’t reach him.

“Dream.” Dream’s laugh cuts off as soon as he hears the plea in George’s voice. “Is something wrong? Are you— I can come there. I can be with you tomorrow. Sapnap can stay with you again. You don’t have to do this—”

“I know. But I want to. So I’m going to.” Any trace of mirth is gone. Dream sounds the same way he did when he decided he was going to break a world record or make YouTube work for him.

Determined. Steadfast. His voice has the steely confidence of knowing he won’t fail.

Usually it’s inspiring but now the familiarity of it just makes George sick. He’s never known Dream to be someone content with failure.

George's phone digs into his palm as his grip spasms. He tastes blood.

And he doesn’t even know why yet.

“What happened? Whatever it is, we can fix it.”

Dream sighs. “Nothing’s wrong, George.”

“There has to be something wrong. You can tell me,” George insists. Then he changes tactics and lies through his teeth. “I swear I won’t tell anyone else. We can work this out together, just the two of us. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I already told you nothing’s wrong,” Dream repeats.

“Then why would you… do that?” George trips over the word, rephrases it instead.

And then Dream rips that tiny defense to shreds.

“You can say it you know,” Dream says. “I’m going to kill myself. You should probably get used to it actually. People are going to ask you about it. I’m sorry about that,” he adds as an afterthought. 

The harsh, blunt words sting against George’s skin.

“Don’t apologize,” he strangles out. “Don’t apologize for that out of everything. Just don’t do it.”

“George,” Dream breathes, exasperated.

“I just don’t understand,” George begs. For the first time, his voice wavers.

Dream, cold gun in his cold hands. Dream, long limbs hanging over the railing of a bridge as he stares down. Dream, slumped over his table with a bottle of vodka nestled near his feet. 

Dream, dead.

Dead.

Dead.

“Don’t cry, okay?” Dream’s voice softens. George forgot how gentle Dream could be with him when he wanted. 

“I didn’t want to make you cry. Look, it’s just…” Dream trails off. Eventually, he continues even quieter. “This is it, you know? This is the top, this is the peak. It can’t go on like this forever, crazy numbers on videos and trending on twitter and all that shit. I’d rather go out like this than wait to hit the bottom. Doesn’t that make sense?” Dream persuades.

“No,” George insists, all the air leaving his lungs at once.

“Come on, George. Can you even picture yourself growing old? What happens when we’re 30, 40, and all of this is gone. Do you want that?”

The sick part of it all is that George has imagined the future. He imagines it lovingly, not viciously. Not like this.

He imagined a future with Sapnap and Bad and Karl and Quackity but most of all with Dream. He wants so badly to be with him. Sapnap talked about living together, how great parts of it had been, how he would have stayed if he hadn’t had to return home for family, and George so selfishly wants that for himself.

And he’s always known that’s not what Dream pictured. Dream doesn’t want what he wants. Dream doesn’t want to grow old with someone, much less George.

Can you even picture yourself growing old?

It hurts because George can and he always wanted it to be with Dream.

“What are you even saying? Do you want me to kill myself too?” George bites. He scrubs viciously at his eyes and stabs at the power button of his computer, teeth piercing into his lip as he waits for it to turn on.

“No, no, of course not. I would never— Come on, that’s obviously not what I’m saying.”

George fumbles with his keyboard, pulling up his discord messages with Sapnap.

He just needs someone else to help him, someone else to know. Someone who can do what he can’t. Someone who isn’t as fucking helpless as him, who doesn’t live an ocean away and who has never seen Dream in person and has never touched Dream, not once, has never known what the sun feels like in Florida.

Of course he was lying when he said this was going to stay between the two of them.

This isn’t the kind of thing he can do alone.

 George: Sapnap dream says hes going 

George: to kill himself

George: you have to get someone to him

George: call 999 

George: 911

 Sapnap: what

 George: please now sap Im on the phone with him

 Sapnap: are you joking

 George: no

George: do it

George: please fast now

 “Are you typing?” Dream questions, a note of warning in his tone.

George jerks. “No, I—”

He’s cut off by a beeping from his phone. 

His heart stops.

“What’s that sound?” Dream asks.

Sapnap is calling him.

George can picture him, knee jumping as he clutches his phone, hoping against hope that George is joking. He can practically hear the adrenaline trembling in Sapnap’s voice, can see the way Sapnap stands and paces.

He can’t answer though. He can’t leave Dream.

George declines the call, hand shaking.

“Who was that?” The question is flat.

“No one,” George says too quickly.

“No one?” Dream repeats. Only a second or two passes before George hears the same beep through his phone speaker, this time coming from Dream’s end. “Wow look who’s calling me. Sapnap. Wonder if he changed his name to No One,” Dream says without emotion.

 Sapnap: fck are you serious

 George bites his tongue, wincing.

“Dream—”

 George: y

 George can’t manage to type anything more before Dream snarls, “You’re such a fucking snitch, you know that? It’s fine though, I thought this might happen. I was gonna call him after you, for the record.” It almost sounds like Dream is smiling. George’s heart twists. Why is he smiling? “I know you have to try as a friend to save me, or whatever you want to call it, but you really don’t have to. I want to do this. I’m going to.

“It’s not like you could really stop me anyway,” Dream continues. “You don’t even know where I live. You barely know what I look like. What, are you going to ask the police to search the entire state of Florida?”

“Sapnap knows,” George whispers. 

He tries to shake off the savagery seeping into Dream’s voice. He tells himself Dream is defensive, Dream is nervous, Dream is scared. Dream isn’t thinking about what he’s really saying.

Though things have never mattered before, the fact George has never been to Florida, that George has never seen Dream in person. But now Dream is weaponizing them against him, forcing George to acknowledge that for everything their relationship is, it can never replace an in person friendship. And Dream has always been a better fighter than George.

“No, he doesn’t. Me and Sap rented a house, remember? We never went to my house. I never sent him my actual address, I checked.” And Dream sounds so smug. Like he won.

George’s gaze darts back to his computer. 

But he already knows Dream isn’t a liar.

 Sapnap: I dont know his address

Sapnap: fuck

Sapnap: Im calling bad

Sapnap: dont let him hang up

 “People are so dumb about it, you know? They tell all their friends and then they get caught before actually doing it,” Dream goes on, not paying attention to George’s disconsolate silence.

“But you’re telling me,” George mutters. Hopelessness strings through him.

Sapnap isn’t writing anything else. George can only hope Bad picked up.

“Yeah but you’re literally in another country. What are you going to do about it?” 

George can’t manage any words. He doesn’t even know if he remembers how to breathe. 

Dream is right, he always seems to be right. George just wishes it wasn’t about this. Anything but this. He has to believe that Sapnap and Bad will figure something out. He has to trust them.

“Just think about how many people are found before they actually do it,” Dream goes on in George’s quiet. “Because they can’t commit. Most people are cowards. It’s dumb honestly. Just do it or don’t.”

“Don’t then,” George whispers.

His eyes burn with unshed tears. His fingers spasm on his bedsheets.

He doesn’t know what Dream wants. Does he want George to beg? To get on his knees and plead with him to save his own life? Because he would in a heartbeat but he doubts it would make a difference. 

Dream sighs. “I feel like you’re not listening to me, George.”

“No, I am.” George’s voice rises with his wrath. Suddenly all his terror and frustration comes to a bursting point. “I’m listening. I’m listening to you talk about killing yourself. I just think you’re wrong. I think it would be a lot fucking braver to stay alive even if your views go down, even if you’re not fucking famous, Dream. What the fuck? You’re a fucking coward for trying to leave!” George’s breaths heave through the staticy phone microphone. His fear and anger wind him.

There’s a moment of emptiness.

Then, lip curling, Dream says, “Trying to leave you?”

George chokes.

“What?”

“Don’t try and pull this card, George. That’s what you’re trying to say, isn’t it? I’m a coward for leaving everyone behind? For leaving you?” 

Dream’s voice drowns out George’s. George flinches, though Dream can’t see it. 

“Don’t be so fucking selfish. I hate that, you know that?” Dream growls. “Everyone thinks they’re enough to save someone all by themselves. Wow, the sheer force of your love just fucking yanked me back from the edge of a cliff, give me a fucking break,” Dream scoffs. George’s ribs feel tight. “You can’t just reverse psychology or guilt me out of this.”

“Jesus, Dream, is it so hard to believe that maybe I care about you and I don’t want you to fucking die?” George grits out. 

The room swims before him. He can’t remember how to uncurl his fingers.

“Well it’s not up to you, is it?” Dream practically smirks.

And that’s it, isn’t it? The winning phrase. Because Dream’s right. 

It’s not up to George. 

George can only listen helplessly as Dream considers his own grave. He’s a constant witness to the storm that is Dream. He was always grateful to be dragged along in Dream’s hurricane winds and now he dreads the day they calm.

“You’re being cruel,” George murmurs. His aggression leaves him as soon as it came.

“I’m being honest,” Dream contends.

George sinks his head into his hands. “Why did you even call me then? To— to gloat?”

Dream’s voice goes low and quiet, vulnerable. George’s insides twist and melt and contort. “No, no, I just… I don’t know. I just wanted to talk to you one more time.”

“Don’t say that,” George hisses. The words are half muffled into his palms.

“Don’t say what?” Dream asks defensively.

“Don’t say one more time. You can’t— you can’t—'' It all hits George at once. He’s going to lose him.

He’s going to lose Dream.

Before he knows it, he’s sobbing into the phone, loud ugly heaving sobs. “Don’t do it, Dream. I’m serious. Please— Just wait for one of us to get there. We can be with you. We can help.”

Dream’s voice hardens again. “You mean you can stop me.”

“Dream—” George starts to beg, trying to figure out how to lie without Dream catching him.

But Dream beats him to it. 

“I’m gonna hang up now—”

Panic rips through George. The shock of it physically hurts in his veins, in his heart.

“No!” he almost screams. “Dream, Dream, don’t hang up—”

“Oh my god, relax. I’m calling Sapnap. I’m not doing anything yet.” He can almost hear Dream rolling his eyes. It’s not comforting.

George sniffles. He knows it sounds pathetic. He’s not one for pity but if it gets Dream to keep talking with him, he’s willing to stoop to any low. He just doesn’t know if he can believe Dream.

“Can’t you just… stay on the phone with me?” 

“What, forever? Is that your plan? Just keep me on the line until someone inevitably finds me somehow?” Dream mocks.

Yes.

“No,” George says instead because he thinks it’s what Dream wants to hear.

Dream switches tactics. George recognizes the persuasion in his tone. 

“Don’t you want me to call Sapnap? Shouldn’t he also get the chance to talk with me?” Dream questions.

Guilts rests against George’s ribs. 

Of course he wants Sapnap to get the chance to talk to Dream. What if this is their last chance to talk? But George is too selfish to think about it much.

“That’s not what you’re asking me. Don’t try and pull that shit. You’re asking me to hang up. You’re asking for me to say goodbye and I’m…” George’s voice drops, almost inaudible. “I’m not ready.”

“George…” Dream’s voice trails off. His next words are nearly silent, something bitter and mournful about them. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know,” George mumbles.

“Are you gonna say it back to me?” Dream demands. George doesn’t know what holds him back now but something does.

“You know I do, Dream, why—”

The dial tone rings in George’s ears.

Dream hung up.

-

Not even 30 seconds pass, not nearly enough for the abrupt end of their call to sink in, when George’s phone is ringing again. He fumbles with his screen but manages to pick up.

“George?”

George’s heart sinks. It’s not the voice he wants to hear. That he needs to hear.

“Bad?”

“Yeah,” Bad affirms. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? Am I—” George scoffs and it feels like it rips his throat. He feels like he wants to scream. Like he wants to punch a wall. Like he would give anything to be somewhere warmer right now. “No, I’m obviously not okay, Bad. He’s going to— to—”

“I know. Sapnap told me.” 

Bad’s voice is collected, even. It just makes George more frustrated. How can everyone be so fucking calm about this? 

“George, just try to take some deep breaths, okay?” George ignores the suggestion. “Sapnap is on the phone with Dream. He just hung up on me to talk to him. I’m driving there right now, okay?”

George pauses. Something cold washes over him. He doesn’t know yet if it’s relief.

“You’re— you’re driving to Dream?”

“Yes,” Bad affirms. “We just have to keep him talking to someone for the next hour—”

“Hour? Are you serious? That’s too long!” George knows he’s screaming now. He doesn’t care.

“George—”

“We have to call an ambulance, the police. There has to be someone we can call.” 

George squeezes his eyes shut, trying to think of other ways they could possibly get there in time. He comes up blank. He can’t accept it. He can’t.

Dream, alone. Dream, bereft. Dream, dead.

“I know but I can’t— I was trying to tell you.” Bad’s words are muffled. It sounds like he’s biting the inside of his cheek. He confesses, “I don’t know his exact address. Sapnap is going to try and get it while he talks to him. I’m driving to Orlando and hopefully Sap knows it by the time I get there but we’re just—”

“No, no, no—”

George thinks of Bad arriving just in time to find Dream’s body still warm. He’s going to be sick. His chest hurts. His lungs burn.

“Try and take some deep breaths—” Bad placates as George speaks over him.

“I’m never going to talk to him again. He’s going to kill himself.” George is spiraling. He can’t stop himself.

“George, I’m going to get there in time.” But Bad doesn’t sound sure of himself. George zeros in on the weakness.

“You don’t know that,” George hisses.

“This is hard for all of us, George!” George startles at Bad’s yell. He’s heard Bad raise his voice before but never at him, never seriously. “I’m sorry,” Bad apologizes, words quieting again. George hears a sniffle through the phone. 

Bad’s crying. 

God, George is a terrible person. He didn’t even think to check in on Bad. Bad’s the one who might find Dream halfway there or already committed. He’s the only one who’s even close to being able to do something and maybe that’s the worst position to be in.

To be so close and lose a friend anyway.

“You don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… I know it’s hard for all of us. I know you’re doing everything you can. You’re doing more than me.” George tries to laugh but it gets stuck in his throat. It’s not funny anyway.

“It’s going to be okay,” but it doesn’t even sound like Bad believes himself.

“I don’t think I can talk about this anymore,” George murmurs. He feels exhausted. There’s so much adrenaline coursing through him that it hurts. “Can we just talk about something else just… just for a little?” he begs. Like anything could distract him from this.

“Yeah George.” George can hear the sympathy in Bad’s voice. He’s too far gone for the pity to bother him. “Let me— Let me tell you about what I did this weekend on the SMP.”

George sucks in a sharp inhale. “Not— not the SMP. Can you talk about something else?” 

“Of course,” Bad agrees easily. “So last Friday I went to visit my family…”

George lets Bad talk in the background. Every once in a while, one of them will sniffle or sob or take a breath that’s too shaky to be normal. Neither of them mentions it.

George listens to people walk past his window, their voices carrying up into the stars.

The noises of the highway drone on through his phone.

Bad drives.

-

George thinks about what it would be like to go on without Dream.

He’ll never be the same, he already knows. It will haunt him for years. For the rest of his life. The thought of being so close to someone and then losing them.

Death is natural. He knows that. But it’s the intentionality of it that aches the most. The idea that Dream would leave behind everything for something so painful and unknown.

And George just knows… part of him will die with Dream and never come back. 

George doesn’t know who he’ll be with that part missing.

part 1/3, though the next update won’t really be an update but it will be soon

#dreamnotfound #dnf #just gotta get those tags out of the way #dream smp #fanfiction #dream smp fanfiction #dnf fanfic #tw suicide #mcyt #mcyt fanfiction #thewar #dream team #pls just go to Ao3 I'm begging you

[dylanxmin]

painkiller ∣ 5 ∣ j.hs

breakups are habitual, ordinary maybe even easy for some other people, and maybe it could be easy for you, too, if you haven’t been dumped by your boyfriend after finding out that you were pregnant. no, it wasn’t easy even a bit. and a stranger who wants to be your side doesn’t make this all easy for you, at all.

pairing; jung hoseok x reader

genre; angst, fluff, humor, pregnancy au, strangers to lovers au, single!mom au, slice of life au,,

warnings; little high on angst, swearings, mention of abortion, mention of adoption, mention of miscarriage, unedited(rlly sorry about this)

word count; 5k+

rating; nc17

a/n; heyyy, it’s been a month since i last update this story and i only blame my finals, my sudden lost of muse, and some side effects of my life but there it is, freshly served, angsty episode!! ion know how did this come out but im feeling positive for the next episode! so,,,, hope you all enjoy reading this part, and as always, i do really appreciate a little comment soooo... lol, love y’all  ♡

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‘‘Yes, can we have a brief explanation about the story of our current project?’’ 

‘‘Miss Y/N?’’ 

‘‘Y/N?’’ 

Light, red and yellow mixes and crushes down when something hard nudges at your shoulder and brings you the reality. Shake of your body startles Namjoon, who was nudging your shoulder to wake you up. Pairs of eyes currently stares at you, wide, curious and surprised, too, as no one expects you to fall asleep in the middle of an important meeting. But, you did anyway. Surprising yourself with such an action, yet you lost control of your sleep schedule way before this meeting, so you weren’t that ashamed as the sleep still lingers around your head. 

Blinking, blinking, blinking for a couple of times before your vision loses its blur, and the faces look way better to your own eyes. Shock still fresh on their faces, a weird sound rises by your throat as you try to clean it before talking. Namjoon holds his laugh back, but you can see it in the redness of his cheeks and the veins that struggle under his skin. 

‘‘I-’’ you clear your throat, once again as it comes hoarse from sleeping. ‘‘I’m sorry, can you say it again?’’ Mr. Lee stares directly into your eyes, he opens his mouth but closes again. And you know you will try to drown yourself in the sink if the corner of his mouth hasn't curled up. 

You sigh, before he asks again, and listens to your explanation. You try to keep it smooth, and once you start to talk about your work, all the sleep leaves your head, enthusiasm fills it place. 

You love your work. Falling asleep doesn’t mean the opposite. 

‘‘I swear to god if you won’t stop laughing, Kim-’’ 

‘‘But..- but you told the story of our new game, drool drying on your chin, with such an enthusiastic manner.’’ Namjoon’s giggles cut himself, palm hangs in the air, other on his knee. A manager who is in his thirties enjoys his coworkers suffer, laughs his lungs off. Such a mature man. You sigh, hand curled around the cup full of water for you to go to the bathroom after. Countless times. 

Fingertips pinching the tip of your brows, you stand on the kitchen side of your office. Shame still red on your face, you barely able to hold yourself back from either crying or smashing the cup on your friend’s head. Which, you like the last option very much. It’s a shame that you possibly couldn’t do that here. Maybe later, on one of your movie nights. 

‘‘I think it was cute, though.’’ the man in his much more formal clothes rather than his usual sweatpants and his shirt enters the kitchen side. Brown hair brushed neatly on the left side, his features look good. ‘‘Don’t pressure yourself anymore. I’m sure they are used to these things.’’ 

‘‘Thank you for helping my self-reliance to gather itself, but I don’t think it’s that simple, Damien.’’ imitating his smile, even though it’s more faint then he has, you sigh once again. Taking a spot on the table, you let your head fall on it. ‘‘I was literally drooling all over myself. Ugh… such a mess.’’ 

Another laugh escapes by Namjoon’s lips, but he pats your head also. ‘‘Damien is right. You know Jihoon and Yeona will be cool about this.’’ 

You scoff. ‘‘Yeah, but I don’t refer to them by their first names as they are the Ceo’s of this company. Like you,’’ 

‘‘Then you shouldn’t refer to me with my name, too, as I’m your boss.’’ an annoying smirk alive on his mouth, he swipes his body on the table. Gulping down his coffee, his stares never leaves you. Something hot, almost burning coils in your chest. Reminding you red, as you stare at him back. Mouth wrinkled, your breath felt heavy. 

It was anger and you didn’t know how to pressure it back where it came from. Even before your pregnancy, you weren’t good with handling your emotions, but now. With so many hormones not knowing what to do, you were even worse. Sudden crying sessions, constant fury always ready to burst out, and the sneaky, dark anxiety getting you at the worst moment, where you were alone and in the dark. It was hard, and too much. Even before being pregnant, and while being pregnant. You weren’t good with them. 

‘‘You know what, I decide not to cook for you anymore.’’ heartbreak flashes in Namjoon eyes, you crossed your arms over your chest. ‘‘You can buy your own chicken breast from somewhere and eat that shitty sauce.’’ 

‘‘Ouch..’’ Damien who is currently watching the cold vibrations coming from you, stays silent after your gaze lands on him. He is scared, and not ready to be the next target of your stinging tongue. Though, it doesn’t last that long. 

Once you see the tremble of Namjoon’s lips, and his hug follows his sorry’s, your coldness melts away. Shame creeps back, sits heavy as you lower your head on the table. But before you can dive in your bad scenarios in your head, brutal yet familiar bickering starts when Nara enters the kitchen, after she takes her place on the table. Her nose crinkled with disgust while waiting for Namjoon to end his insults, only to throw another to him. Damien tries to cut them off, but it’s useless as he gives up and rests his back on his chair. Hesitant stares gather on you, only to tear them apart while you pretend like you didn’t notice. 

Yet, you don’t want to suffocate yourself with your thoughts, you raise your head, eyes meeting with the brown haired man. Because you don’t and probably can’t break that cold war between your friend and Nara, you find your escape on Damien. 

‘‘So, we have to prepare a meeting for you to put a suit on?’’ cocking your brow high, you ask. His surprise fades after a moment of waiting. Maybe because you aren’t the warmest person or because of the effect of your friends that filled your head with the idea of him having some feelings for you, you never attempt to talk with him first. Not that he isn’t a decent man, but more likely, you weren’t into him and did not want to make a wrong move. For him to get the wrong idea. 

But maybe you are being stupid for believing your delusinal friends about his feelings, and he just wants to be friendly. Though, it’s good to not risk anything, right?

‘‘Suits just not my type, and also, who is wearing these other than him?’’ Damien points Namjoon, who is in a deep, hurtful conversation with your other coworker. You tear your eyes from him to land on Damien once again, his smiling this time. Wide, eyes imitating it. ‘‘Also, doesn’t it hurt your feet? You weren’t wearing heels for a long time.’’ 

After he mentions it, your feet start to pulse with pain. Embarrassment clouded all over your other senses, but his words bring them back. And you wrinkle your face in pain. Of course, it hurts. How it won’t hurt while your feet try to set themselves free by growing bigger inside of its cage and the process isn’t an easy one. Though, these whining are the last thing for your coworker to hear so you simply go with a soft smile. 

‘‘Yeah, a bit but nothing I can’t handle.’’ 

‘‘Oh okay then. Good to hear.’’ he leans closer, eyes gleaming like a child in his pre-mischievous stage. ‘‘Just in case, I have a pair of nice sneakers waiting in my closet. All comfy and less deadly.’’ 

Mirroring the act, you also get close to him. Palm covering the side of your curled mouth, ‘‘I will consider it, but why are you acting like you were selling drugs?’’ whispering the half of your words, you cocked your head aside, watching his face wrinkle due to his growing smile. And seeing him from this side, you realise how good looking he is. Radiant smile adds more point to his charisma as he does, eyes narrow but curls cutely on the ends, and for a second you just stare at his side profile. His spotless skin dips on the cheek as his dimple wants to show off. Thankfully, when he starts to talk the silvery sheet goes away, to your luck. 

‘‘Well, we won’t want other heel wearers to come at my desk for my fancy shoes, right?’’ 

Nodding, you point your finger at him as if he made a good point. ‘‘I see… Of course we wouldn’t want that, of course.’’ 

After the short break, everyone turned in their work the same as you. And you find yourself so tired after talking about the details of the story of your current game with Heejin. Trying to find reliable reasons and motives is hard for some time, as you continue to work on the specific character’s choices in the game, and why and exactly how they should do is sometimes irksome even when you have someone who tries really hard to help you. Yet, you know you can’t put all the weight on Heejin’s shoulders as the poor woman barely had some sleep because of the pre-cold effect. 

When she sneezed for the fourth time in the last five minutes, you had to stop and be sure of her well being. Putting your palm on her clothed arm, you mimicked a smile to look sympathetic rather than annoyed. Even though you were a little bit. Thankfully, she doesn’t have to know that. 

‘‘I know I asked this before but are you sure you are okay? Maybe you should take a rest for the rest of the day. Obviously, you need some.’’ 

She looks hesitant at first, eyes widens at your words but she covers it with a faint smile and nods. ‘‘Oh, I’m okay, I’m okay. You don’t have to worry about me.’’ Heejin bites down her lip before continuing again. ‘‘Did I annoy you? I’m sorry, I just took a pill, so I think that will make me better in a couple of minutes.’’ 

‘‘No, no…’’ pulling your hands in the air, you shake your head in denial. It did bother you but not much for her to apologize for being sick. ‘‘I just wanted to check on you, I’m not… disturbed. It’s okay.’’ 

Your half reassurance works barely, as she tries to lower the voice of her sneezes after that. And everytime, a drip adds to your growing guilt. As Heejin is younger than you for three years, and you have been working here longer than her, it puts some stairs between you two and now with that, you fix the ice between you two. The ice that you have been trying to melt from the first day she was here, and now, thanks to your pregnancy hormones, it started to build once again. Not just with Heejin, but everyone around you was walking on eggshells around you as your rage came out of nowhere, so sudden that sometimes it even shocks you. But for a stupid reason - well, it’s not stupid as you are pregnant and that played with your emotions -, you couldn’t control the sudden change of your feelings. 

One second being calm and the other being tense did tire you for sure as senses flow through every nerve you have. Breathing exercises merely helped, and that led you to staying away from the people around you. As sometimes words come out rude before you can realise. And nobody deserves that kind of attitude, even the ones you know from your childhood. 

For that reason, you turned down Taehyung’s offer to come with you as you know that owing to his nature, he will do something silly to make you angry or stressed even when he does it with all his good intentions. Some days, even when you are in your usual state you can’t stop being bothered by him, and you had no intentions to taste it today. Which, nothing was normal in your current mental state, so that’s for the best. 

Driving past the now familiar streets, you learned a new thing: Driving with a jean without opening its button can be hard, as you have to undo the button while your stomach growls in need. While your stomach become visible, looking like you ate too much for your stomach to handle, sudden thirst for stupid cravings increased day by day. Sadly, it affected your friends as much as you. 

In the middle of night, you woke Yoongi up for him to get you apples, pickles for Taehyung and last but not least, ice cream for Namjoon. As your cravings decide to choose the oddest times, three of them find the solution to fill your fridge until there is no space left. Well, after you sat on your kitchen floor and cried they had to eat some of them with you, as they basically called you fat by doing that, and paid for it. For them, they just wanted to make sure you get what you want but at this point, what they thought barely mattered. 

‘‘Okay, that was tiring.’’ you whispered through your exhale, while parking the car. For the records, parking turned into a hell show for you as going further and back, further and back, further, further and back has your nerves strain like a string. Though, you never liked it anyway. You were ready to leave your car, but the ringtone of your phone cut the act. 

‘‘Hey, mom.’’ 

‘‘Nope. Your voice sounds the same, rather than I thought so.’’ sighing, you brushed your face by your palm. Words like a needle on the skin, your mother always knew how to use them. ‘‘Well don’t ‘ahhh’ at me. As we barely speak, I obviously expect to forget your voice, tell me if I’m wrong.’’ 

Nodding as if she is able to see you through the phone, you put your head on the wheel. She was annoyed as it was very clear by her high and thin tone. 

‘‘Yes, Ma’am.’’ your reply earned another high pitched warning from her so you had to calm her between your giggles. ‘‘Okay, okay… You’re right, Mama. I should call you more but you know work and everything keeps me busy. But I will try my best, promise.’’ 

‘‘Apology accepted. But even though I know you prefer to talk about work, and the video thing you adore talking about, I’m most likely interested in my baby’s baby. So, how’s the pregnancy going?’’ 

This is the exact reason why you didn’t call her more than you did. As she is very interested in your life and interior with it, of course pregnancy will be the same. And you couldn’t ignore the things you can as she will talk about them, will want to know about them and give some advice from her past experiences. Not that you will need any of them, but of course as you postponed everything, you did the same thing to this topic, too, and left your mother in the dark. You will run as far as you can. 

‘‘They called games, not video thing but it’s your choice.’’ while thinking of it itched your tongue, you swallowed all the tensing thoughts down, and ready yourself to talk. ‘‘And the… pregnancy is going good if we don’t count the constant eating, peeing, crying, being tired twenty-four-seven, not fitting in my favorite clothes and all the pain it put me through.’’ 

She laughs as if you just told the funniest joke she heard. Cocking your brows, you run through what you said to make her laugh this much to fail. 

‘‘Ohhh, my baby. Stop talking about this as the things are all bad. You have a baby in your belly, your baby. They will become your everything, and mostly good things because you will love them more than anything you can. Believe me, I could die in return for your laugh. A bubbly, vivid laugh. Ahh… remembering it made me soft, right now.’’ 

‘‘Trying to be unbiased about gender, I see?’’ 

‘‘Well, I don’t want to affect the baby.’’ 

Though you want so bad to ask how that could actually affect the baby, you stay silent. All the baby talk is already pulling you down, it is better if you can stay out of the gender topic as much as you can. Not that it mattered, you thought. 

‘‘What do you mean? Why it wouldn’t matter darling?’’ 

Huh? 

Clearly, you weren’t thinking, but murmuring under your breath as your mom heard it. When you hit your head on the wheel, the horn startles you both. Fixing your posture, you answered your mother’s hurried question. 

‘‘It was horn, I’m in the car. Yes, yes I’m okay, don’t worry. I’m at the hospital- No, no- Mom, for the appointment. Yes… yes, for the baby. I will talk to you later, okay? I will call, I promise- Yes, I promise. Okay, love you, too.’’ 

You sigh once again. A loud one. 

You do hate lying to the woman who would do anything you want, but you know she is not ready to lose her grandchild, yet. You are not ready for the speech you will receive, also. Not that it will be harsh or critical, you just are not ready to accept the whole thing. Yes, you still had problems with the whole pregnancy thing even though you made your mind with adoption. You still had thirty weeks to go, and that won’t go fast. Not in a normal time, or in the pregnancy. 

Head full of blurring thoughts, you missed the man who shakes his hand from afar. The black haired man’s smile faded as you passed by his side without sparing a glance. Too busy with thinking how to calm your mother after you give her the news. The news that she won’t have a grandchild anytime soon. Fuck… that’s gonna be hard. 

Well, maybe not hard as much as the door you decide to welcome it with your face rather than opening. A loud thud, and muffled curse under your breath, instinctively you checked your nose if there is more than the pain you feel, as there is no blood you calm down, shoulders drop their usual place. Apparently, you were conscious enough to lead yourself to the floor where your doctor’s office, past the stairs, and find his door but when it comes to open the door you fail. Tears sit on your eyelids at once as you close them due to the pain that crushes your sight. Trying to massage your nose bridge barely helps but giving it a try won’t hurt, you think. 

‘‘Oh my, are you okay?’’ from your closed and blurred eyesight, you can’t choose who is the one talking but his voice lets you know that he is your doctor, Seokjin. ‘‘I heard a loud thug but couldn’t understand it was a human until you groaned. Are you okay, you bumped your nose? Let me get a look at that.’’ 

Not forgetting to thank him while he guides you inside his office, now you are able to open your eyes and set the tears free as they go down. Seokjin sits you on the white sheeted chair, handles your head to go right and left as he scans your face and nose behind creased eyes. He looks really concerned, more than you, and somehow it puts you on a stage where you feel like you have to make him sure that you were okay and nothing was wrong. It still feels weird when someone gets concerned over you more than yourself, as who would care for someone more than one’s self so it’s still vague. 

‘‘I-I’m actually okay. I didn’t hit that hard as it sounds, it doesn’t even bleed so…’’ wry smile is all you offer him as your voice trails down when his eyes meet with yours, a bit keen rather than you thought they will. 

Seokjin sighs with a line between his brows but he lets go, and when he puts a decent distance between you and himself, professionalism settles in his features as he adjusts his tie. 

‘‘It does look okay, but make sure you put some ice when you can as it could leave a bruise behind.’’ he smiles, both sweet and very technically. As he practiced it for every client he had and now performing it without any difficulties. It looks natural. ‘‘So, tell me how are you feeling? You should still have the early pregnancy symptoms such as morning sickness, sleep issues, and more likely they will hang around for a few more weeks. But it’s more important if you have a symptom that comes unnatural or unbearably painful for you?’’ 

After taking two deep breaths, you feel ready to give him a reply. Nose still throbs by the hit but it’s faint now. 

‘‘Uhm…- yeah, other than the ‘expected’ symptoms, I don’t feel like something is wrong, or not supposed to happen. No more painful urination, though I still need it frequently.’’ you grimace lightly as you share, shifting a bit. ‘‘But yeah, I’m okay.’’ you try to wipe the fresh embarrassment with the non glowing smile you had in your storage. Probably he should but you still don’t know if he needs to know that you choose adoption. As he is your doctor, and the one who is taking care of you and the baby, you know that he must know about it, but unpleasant eerie stops you from doing what you should.  

Old habits die hard, that’s for sure. 

‘‘Excellent. It’s good to hear that everything is going on it’s way, and today, as now you are in the tenth week of your pregnancy, I’m recommending you a genetic test in case there is any birth defect.’’ 

‘‘What is that?’’ even though Seokjin was done with talking, you utter so fast that it feels like you interrupted him, as you shut your mouth with wrinkled brows. It was just getting tiring day by day with all of these tests, things to do and not to do, being extra careful because you have another living creature in you to take care, more than yourself. No more selfish, damaging, stupid choices can be done as your body no longer belonged to you. At least not only to you and this was really, really tiresome. 

As he was expecting this, Seokjin comes up with some papers as you can understand them. ‘‘As I said before, it’s a test to acknowledge any kind of defect in the baby. These tests take two forms: screening tests and diagnostic tests. And a screening test tells you the likelihood that your baby could have a birth defect; a diagnostic test tells you with more than ninety nine percent certainty whether the baby has the disorder.’’ He explains more as you take the papers from him, scanning the words but they are almost identical as Seokjin continues with his further explanation. The blank eerie gets heavier and heavier the further he talks, and when he comes to the risks, it feels like your pulse palpitates on your throat. Tearing your eyes from the papers that sit on your lap, you stare at the man who is still talking. 

‘‘There is small risk of miscarriage, that’s why you need to carefully consider tha advantages and the disadvantages of these test before you make any decision, even it’s small.’’ 

A slap to the face, a weight falls on your stomach after Seokjin is done with his statement. Mouth hangs open, you stay still, silent as the Doctor waits patiently, now he is behind his desk, sitting his hands intertwined. As if he knows the new information would put a heavy dullness in you as he searches your every movement, yet you gave him hardly any. 

‘‘Do I… have to?’’ 

The idea of taking these tests would be tiring is there but the cause of your nausea is not just that. More likely, it’s the idea of losing something. Even though that something doesn’t belong to you because you never wanted it, and nothing has changed since then. Whether it's the guilt of knowing everything caused because of your recklessness, or it’s because you feel obligated to give the baby a good life due to your current maternal instincts - you hardly say you had one -, whether it’s beside you or far away from you, you feel the suffocating necessity. Even if the risk has one percent chance, you can’t take it. Maybe it’s odd to push your one percent chance to become free with the back of a hand, but that would be running away, and both of you already had one runner in your lives, and the baby wouldn’t need another. 

‘‘I know it sounds scary but you can take your time, you don’t have to do it now. You can search it a bit more about the cons and pros but I never had any problems with my former clients if you need any consolation. And you can always ask for me more.’’ 

Chewing your bottom lip, you still look at him in the eye like you need to give him an answer. You do trust your doctor but that doesn’t mean that you purposely rejected the idea of getting abortion while you deal with an unwanted pregnancy only to come across with a risk of miscarriage. Of course it is always there whether you do the test or not, but that's nearly a consolation. 

Nodding, you put all the papers in your bag before leaving the doctor’s office. Biding your goodbyes after ending with this week control. 

You come to the hospital with a dazed head, and you were going to leave it even more wrecked. But you just needed some air, somewhere to ease the wave of emotions that is going through your head. To catch your breath, you adjust your route to the cafeteria in the outdoors. Maybe, that could help you somehow. 

Not temporarily, but taking fresh air in your lungs somehow helped you. The phone call you had with Taehyung while you were at the verge of tears, too, and you sit in the cafeteria during all of these. Mimicking the doctor's words to your friend and Taehyung had listened to you, hang on your every word as much as he can on the other side of the line. Tried to console you, said that things will be alright and nothing bad will happen as if he was as sure as his name. And momentarily, you believed him. Both because you needed it, and he was being a good friend and you didn’t want him to feel useless. 

For good or ill, now, your heart is resting in ease. 

Well at least it was until you see a glimpse of dark uniform in the corner of the wall, and then a familiar face you haven’t seen in a while. A smile that softly shaped as heart, causing your heart to palpitate fast but in a much different way than the news you learned today, or the idea of your mother's future disappointment. It’s more thrilling and in a way even scarier than the other two options. As the opposite of how familiar the face is, the reason for your heart going this insane was abrupt. Even odd when you think the very less time you spent with the owner of the familiar face, yet it was there, forcing you to gulp down, consume every emotion he forced you to feel. 

Contrary to what you expect - and you didn’t know why you were expecting him to be happy after seeing you - his face falls, the shape of heart shutters around his mouth. And to your shock, it put needles somewhere near to your chest. 

The last time you saw him, the atmosphere was intense as you shared things that normally you wouldn’t do with a partially stranger but with him even though feelings were gloomy, you weren’t uneasy. And to you, when he was consoling you, internalizing what you were telling him, he wasn’t disturbed. At least he didn't look like that. But, the more you size him up, the more you get sure of his strange disturbance. And it did burn. Smoke choked you down, and put tears on your eyes. Fucking pregnancy hormones…

Not aware of your action, you caught your hand in the air, in the middle of a shake as Hoseok greeted you by the tiny bow of his head. And expecting more cutted harsly, as a knife in the gut. 

Whether it’s because of your blind act, or whether he feels obligated, Hoseok comes closer to the table you were sitting, leaving the person behind he was talking to before he saw you. With every step, you breathe another air to gather your confidence a bit high, but it’s useless as your hands start to tremble under the table, fortunately away from his sight. 

‘‘H-hi,’’ no matter how much Hoseok tries to sound friendly, it’s not, and you can hear in his voice as it comes out broken. His eyes are still deep and candid but not glowing the way it fascinated you when you first saw him. Still, you greeted him with a tight smile, wave of your hand small. 

‘‘Take a seat-’’ pointing the available chair, you cut yourself to say something else. To correct your words. ‘‘I mean if you want… of course,’’ 

To your surprise, he holds the chair to adjust for him to sit on. But everything feels so forced and awkward that you can’t stop wondering if you said something to him and cause him to feel uncomfortable around you. Your brain works so hard to scan the memories of that day, but you fail to find something so disturbing to make Hoseok shift in his seat, a line between his brows and a noticeably insincere smile. 

It takes minutes for someone to talk first and scare the clouds away only for a moment. 

‘‘Are you waiting for your appointment or has it already finished?’’ 

‘‘Ah, yeah, it’s done. I just needed to take a moment and fresh air because…’’ your voice eventually trailed off as you realised he just asked to look friendly and probably doesn’t want to hear your whelming emotions anymore. ‘‘of stuffs, you know.’’ 

Hoseok nods, his mouth thin as a line, and even though it shouldn’t, it breaks your heart. Yes, this man owes you nothing, and of course he doesn’t have to sit there and listen to how sorry and depressed you feel over the things doctor Seokjin have told you, but it still hurts to see him this… joyless. The curiosity burns deep and wild as you desperately want to know what the hell you did to make him this anxious, but your mind barely helps as you wander in the empty field. 

‘‘I should probably get going-’’ 

‘‘It’s been a while-’’

Words clashing and drowning one another, silence takes over and Hoseok abruptly stops above his chair as he was about to leave before you parted him. And now he looks at you with wide eyes, fear in his chest growing big as your bottom lip trembles for only a second but he catches it. 

He sits back on his seat with hands on the air. ‘‘Oh, yeah, it’s been a while since we last saw each other.’’ he says but you know it’s out of pity, and you would rather die than crumbling under his gaze. So you shake your head with a false smile, though hammers work in your chest. 

‘‘Ah, don’t mind me. Go ahead, you are probably busy and have so much to do. So, you can leave, seriously.’’ 

‘‘No-, no, no, Y/N. I’m sorry, I want to stay and talk to you, really. I really am sorry for acting rude.’’ 

Maybe because the look on his face, or the warm tone of his voice, you decide not to pressure him to leave after you ask if he really wants it for a second time. But he nods and smiles, and this time it reaches his eyes, a hot pink blossoms in you. 

Though, before either of you can say anything, a touch at your back stops you. You hear the breathy voice before you turn your head. ‘‘Ahh, finally I found... you. Care to explain why you are-...not picking your phone?’’ 

And when you turn over, you see a panthing Yoongi. His hand on his knee and looks at you with concerned gaze. Then, they leave you only to land on the man on the other side of the table, and Yoongi’s eyes go wide. 

He extends his hand in a non-moving shake to the air. ‘‘Oh, hi. Sorry to butt in.’’ he stretches his hand towards him, the ghost of a smile appears on his lips. ‘‘It’s Yoongi,’’ 

Voice deep, and it takes long to draw out when the man in dark uniform mirrors the act. ‘‘Hoseok.’’ 

#heartsforbts #bangtanhq #bangtanarmynet #houseofddaeng #btsgoldnet #btswritingcafe #hyunglinenetwork #hoseok x reader #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fluff #hoseok angst #jung hoseok #painkiller #dylanxmin

[nad-zeta]

Hi! Can i ask for an hc where mc doesnt show much emotion? Like, her mom would gets mad at her when she cried, saying things like 'you dont have anything to be sad about' eventually mc didnt show emotions much in fear no one would care and fear of everyone is just putting up with her? She would break down alone. Im sorry, this is one placei can think of to have my heart comforted. I would be thankful for all warlords, if cant, i would like nobunaga, mitsuhide, kenshin,shingen and hideyoshi. TY💕

Hi love! Sorry for taking sooo long with this HC (>ლ)! I hope you are doing well! Sending you all the loves and hugs (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`) ♡ ! And just know for anyone who needs to hear this... that its okay to show emotions, no one is going to think less of you, and trust me when I say there are people who care about you and would be there for you to wipe away every tear and listen to every complaint during your breakdowns! You are not alone dear! And for all those who feel like they have no one and need to vent I'm always here for ya loves (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*。 don't be shy to pop me a message even if ya just wanna chat (◕‿◕✿)

Okay so onto the headcanon, thanks so much for the request dear! I hope you have a wonderful day and I hope you enjoy it! ❤🌼

Headcanon: MC afraid of showing emotion/too scared to cry in front of Nobunaga, Kenshin, Hideyoshi and Mitsuhide 

Nobunaga

Nobunaga absolutely loved you (｡◕‿◕｡)

He loved everything about you, from the way you walked to the cute way you scrunched up your nose when you laugh, EVERYTHING

When it came to emotions the two of you didn’t show much to the world but when your were together it was easy to drop the mask and be yourself

Except, what Nobunaga didn’t know was that you had to endure years of mental and emotional abuse from your mom

As a child you never cried cause, heaven forbid, that tear slip from your eye in front of her, all hell would break loose

(┛ಠДಠ)┛彡┻━┻

She would lose her shit and scream at you that she would give you something to cry about if you did not stop

As of late you have been feeling a little down, and you were finding it harder and harder to push down those feelings bubbling up inside

You quickly retired to a secluded part of the garden, and made your way to your favourite bench

You weren’t even sitting there 2 seconds and the tears started to stream down your face  (ಥ﹏ಥ)

Gosh if your mother could see you now she would have a field day

Nobunaga’s meeting had ended early, and he was eager to spend some time with his beloved fireball (◠‿◠✿)

He spotted you sitting in your favourite spot in the garden and made his way towards you

As he got closer he heard and saw something he had never in the year of knowing you, seen or heard before

YOU WERE CRYING

He was by your side in a flash

He crouched down in front of you and took both your hands in his

“Tell me fireball, what is the matter, I will make the problem disappear in an instant.”

What Nobunaga didn’t expect was that you would remove your hands from his and cover your face. “I'm fine, don't worry about me.”

“You cannot lie to me my dear queen, now tell me why do you insist on hiding your pain from me, have you already forgotten you are mine and I am yours. Our hearts beat as one. So tell me fireball what had burdened that sweet heart of yours”, Nobungas voice was as demanding as ever, but it held a kind and comforting warmth and in his eyes, you could see nothing but love and worry for you

You had told him the reason you never cry or show emotion to the outside world and in an instant you were in Nobunaga’s arms being carried to his room

He gently cradled you face in his hands and whispered against your lips “I am not your mother and to me you can cry freely” he then kissed you

It was a kiss filled with so much love and emotion

“Whenever something is troubling your fireball or whenever you feel like crying come to me, so I can kiss away your tears.”  (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ )

Nobunaga spent the rest of that night showing you just how much he loved and adored you (¬‿¬)

Mitsuhide

He saw the look on your face during the banquet

The way your mask had faltered and slipped for a split second (¬_¬)

He knew you were hiding something from him, a painful detail of your past

He told himself he would wait, wait for you to open up to him on your own, but the look you had on your face during the banquet was breaking his sneki boi heart  （>﹏<）

He could see you bite your lip in frustration to keep the tears from falling

He knows you had, had a long week, there was always so much work for everyone to do when important daimyos came to visit

As princess of the Oda forces, it was your job to keep the cups of the guests full, however these were particularly nasty guests, who had flung rude comment towards you for the whole duration of their stay

And TBH Mitsuhide was getting sick of it, in fact, all the warlords were fuming on your behalf (ಠ ∩ಠ)

Mitsuhide stalked over to Nobunaga and whispered something in his ear, out of the corner of your eyes, you saw him give a small nod

Mitsuhide in a flash was now beside you, he gently took the bottle of sake from your hands and placed it on the table

He then carefully took hold of your wrist and lead you out of the banquet hall

He leads you onto the balcony and closed the doors to give the two of you some privacy

Golden eyes stared down at you, he could see it in your eyes, the pain and sadness you felt, his heart broke at the sight of your quivering lips tying to chock down and mask your emotions  ( ͡ಥ ͜ʖ ͡ಥ)

You tried to say that you were fine, but the second you moved your lips to speak a tear slipped out from the corner of your eye

You turned around and covered you face with your hands repeating over and over how sorry you were  (つд⊂)

“Please, Mitsu, please don’t hate me.”

Mitsuhides heart broke, hate you? Why he loved you more than anything in the world

He snaked his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulders whispering in your ears “Why would I ever hate you, my dearest little mouse, for you are my light in this dark world, you are my soulmate and the keeper of my heart. I could never ever, ever hate you little one.”

He gently turned you around in his arms and rested his forehead on yours

He gave your nose a little kiss, an action which makes you chuckle a little

(/‿＼✿)

“My dearest little one, would you dare to tell me, why it is that I would ever hate someone as wonderful as you” he said while nuzzling his nose against yours

You hid your face in the crook of his neck and took in his warm scent, and quietly muttered what your mother had been telling you your whole life

Mitsuhide quietly listened, taking in every word, dropping smalled kisses on your cheek and hair   (´•ω•｀)♡

His tightened his embrace on you the second you mentioned that you were scared that he would hate and leave you if you cried in front of him, or cause him unnecessary trouble 

When your story was done Mitsuhide cradled your cheeks in his hands, he urged you up to meet his eyes, he then kissed your forehead, nose and finally lips  (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ )

“My dear, you have been caught by a kitsune, and I’m afraid you can never leave, I will never hate or feel inconvenienced by you, my dear, and I would never leave you. To me crying or showing emotion isn’t a sign of weakness; it is a strength. You have no need to fear showing your emotions around me, my love, especially the sad and bad ones, for wherever you are feeling down, I will wrap you in my arms just like this” and as he said that, he moved to snake his arms around your waist once more, and leaned in close to whisper in your ear, ”And then I will do this”

He then started to shower your face, neck and shoulders in small ticklish kisses, while his hands moved to tickle your sides (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

You bust out into laughter “Stop Mitsu, haha, mercy, haha, mercy.”

He then gave your lips one final kiss and traced his fingertips on your tear-stained cheeks

“I truly love you, my dear, please never hide your emotions from me again.”  (/^-^(^ ^*)/

Kenshin

Kenshin was away fighting and you were left with Sasuke and Yuki to hold down the fort

You were feeling a little sad and upset lately and you were definitely missing the bunny warlord (⁎˃ᆺ˂)

You were hanging out with Yuki and Sasuke at one of the tea houses and you just couldn’t shake the feelings of loneliness and sadness

You could feel your eyes begin to sting, and you knew you needed to get away (つд⊂)

You quickly excused yourself and said that you weren’t feeling well

Sasuke and Yukimura gave each other a worried look

“Should we go after her?” “I think its best if we leave her be, besides I heard lord Kenshin will be home this afternoon”, they gave each other a nog and continued to chat over tea

You wandered back to the castle, your heart was feeling heavy, you kept your tears in until you made it to your room

You walked through the door of your and Kenshin’s shared room and the second the door closed behind you you bust into tears

‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚

You slid down the door and curled yourself up into a ball and cried

How many time have you done this before, quietly breaking down and sobbing in the silence of your room  ๐·°(৹˃̵﹏˂̵৹)°·๐

Careful not to make a sound, even though your mother was 500 years in the future, the words she would say to you when she caught you crying, stilled ringed in your ears

“Stop it, you silly girl, or I'll give you something to cry about. If you keep it up no one will like you. No one likes people who cry they are annoying. If you don’t learn to toughen up, you will never have any friends.” ☜(`o´)

You covered your ears hoping to block out the noise

Kenshin had come back early and quickly made his way to your shared room to change

He was so excited to see his little bunny

He heard the door of your room open and shut

He was about to step out from behind the changing screen to surprise you, when he heard the sound of your soft whimpers  ∑(ΦдΦlll

His heart broke into pieces, why were your crying, how dare hurt his beloved goddess of war, whoever caused his beloved upset will pay with their lives  ( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)=ε/̵͇̿̿/'̿̿ ̿ ̿ ̿ ̿ ̿

He strode out from behind the changing screen to see you huddled into a small ball with your hand covering your ears  (ノ′Дヾ)

He quietly made his way up to you and before you knew it you were enveloped in his warmth ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

He held you tight pressing your head into his chest

“Hush, my little bunny, I’m home, what has caused you so much grief, for I vow to cut down anyone who dare hurt the love of my life.”

You tried to calm yourself down, to stop crying but the more you tried to put a lid back on your emotions the more they came pouring out

You and Kenshin had a very open and honest relationship and just as you have destroyed and chased away his demon, it is now his turn to do the same for you

He soothingly pulled his fingers through your hair and kissed the top of your head “It’s okay, I’m here, I’m here, you are okay, just listen to the sound of my heartbeat”

When you managed to calm down a little you told him about your mother and how you were never allowed to cry as a child, as that was perceived as weakness  (つ﹏<)･ﾟ｡

Kenshin simply remained silent as you hiccuped your way through the story, he traced soothing circles on your back as you continued to speak and he gave you a few small pecks to encourage you to keep going

The bunnies must have sensed that you were feeling down as sometime during your story, an avalanche of fluff huddled around the two of you

Each nuzzling their little noses against you as if to try and comfort you in their own way  

(ㅇㅅㅇ❀)

“My love your mother is wrong, it is not a weakness to cry or show emotion and no one will think less of you if you do.”

He then like his bunnies started nuzzling his nose into your hair and kissed the top of your head “I love you with my whole heart and soul, did you already forget the promise we made my love.”

Kenshin gently wiped away the few remaining tears and kissed the tip of your nose

“Ahh I see my sweet goddess of war has forgotten,.” He rested his forehead on yours and gave you a little Eskimo kiss

“Remember when I was still battling with the demons in my head, we made a.. what do you call it again… a yes, a pinky promise… to always hold and listen to one another problems, to envelop each other in a comforting embrace, to face all challenges together and to love each other for eternity no matter what.

Kenshin the gave you the biggest brightest smile and carried you to the futon where the two of you spent the rest of the day cuddled in each other’s arms and surrounded by the love of your fluff army 

♡｡ﾟ.(*♡´‿` 人´‿` ♡*)ﾟ♡ °・

Hideyoshi

You were having a horrible day

Everything just seemed to be going wrong

As you started walking back to Hideyioshi’s manor, Nobunaga could sense something was off, so he dragged you with him on one of his candy runs

THB the candy did lift your spirits, but all of that was in vain the second your lover stepped into the kitchen, to catch you and Nobu crunching down on candy

When you turned to look, Nobunaga was gone without a trace leaving you to deal with being lectured on your own

As Hideyoshi lectured you about sugar and the dangers of eating too much of it, all the memories and troubles of the day started coming back and burdening your heart

You could feel the tears start to well up and your throat start to constrict

You needed to get out of there

Halfway through the lecture, you started running, you didn’t want Hideyoshi to see you cry, you didn’t want to burden him with your feelings

ᕕ(ಥʖ̯ಥ)ᕗ

And you most definitely didn’t want to trouble him

You ran all the way back home locking yourself in your shared room

Hideyoshi knocked on the door, to your shared bedroom ಠ╭╮ಠ

You forgot that you had a spare key in the pot pant down the hall

Hideyoshi slowly made his way into the room

He saw you in the corner of the room hugging your legs, tear streaming down your face 

｡･ﾟﾟ･(>д<)･ﾟﾟ･｡

“I’m sorry if I was a little harsh on you love, most of that lecture was actually meant for Nobunaga”, Hideyoshi made his way towards you and eyed you apologetically

Although the second you locked eyes with Hideyoshi, he could see that it was more than just the lecture on your mind

He sat down beside you and pulled you into his lap  (>^_^)><(^o^<)

“Tell me what’s bothering you love, I may not always be able to read your expressions very well, but I can always tell when something is bothering you”

You had told him of your past and why you don’t give away much with your facial expressions 

(つ﹏⊂)

“You know you can always come to me with any problem right, I would never judge you for crying or showing emotion.”

You gave Hideyoshi a small nod, but his MOTHER MODE had been activated and he was now determined to do whatever it took to bring that smile back to your face (◕‸ ◕✿)

He picked you up and walked you to the bathroom where the two of you had a nice warm bubble bath together

He then cooked you your favourite meal and held you in his arms the entire night (◕‿◕✿)

That night in his arms you allowed yourself to cry, you had bottled up your emotions for so long, but with Hideyoshi, you felt safe.

You allowed yourself to show him you every sadness and insecurity, and he accepted all of it ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

He would sit and listen to you while gently rubbing your back

Whenever new tears would stream down your face, he wipes them away leaving a trail of kisses in their wake

Finally, with Hideyoshi, you allowed yourself to drop the mask and show your true emotions, as you felt safe and warm and his arm, and most importantly with Hideyoshi, you always felt loved (⺣◡⺣)♡*

Thanx for the request love! I hope you enjoyed it! (*^.^*)

#ikemen sengoku headcan #ikemen sengoku headcanons #ikesen headcanons #ikesen headcanon #headcanon ikemen #ikesen hc #ikemen sengoku hc #ikemen sengoku nobunaga #ikesen nobunaga #oda nobunaga #ikemen sengoku mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #ikesen mitsuhide #toyotomi hideyoshi #ikesen hideyoshi #uesugi kenshin #kenshin uesugi #kenshin ikemen sengoku #ikesen kenshin

[voidselfshipp]

Undestoood

Cw: ask to tag.

Ok to rb.

Summary: Erik has a nightmare and jerico goes to help him, he just forgot that he cant lie to an empath.

The school was quiet.

Too quiet.

Jerico gets out of bed, her feet dragging her to the halls, she yawns closing the door behind her.

Her fingertips feel tingly, the emotions around her were calmness and happiness.

But there was something wrong.

One in particular, this one stinged.

Someone had a nightmare.

She walks down The corridor to the kitchen, the trail takes her to the yard,she sighs, there he was.

Jerico walks outside, its chilly, and there was Erik with a coffee mug, his eyes seeing what was infront of him, his mind however wasnt.

Jer leans on the concrete handrail like he was doing,he finally comes back down from the clouds, and looks at her.

-- youre up late-- he said.

-- or something woke me up-- she retorted

He chuckled,letting out a little sigh-- I forgot,youre very sensitive to emotions around you, what woke you up?

Jerico looked at him--you

--Me? Why?

--Erik...dont play dumb I know you had a nightmare

Erik looks away-- no I didnt, im fine!

-- then why do you feel scared?

--im not--

Jerico furrows her brows crossing her arms, he sighs and drinks from his mug.

--How can you tell?-- he said defeated.

-- I was sleeping, something woke me up, my hands felt cold and stingy and I knew something was up, I followed the feeling here

He nodds-- how...how does that feel?

-- stingy, as if something was biting my fingers, my hands get cold, up to my wrist

She sighed looking at him.

--Please let me help you-- jerico said-- youre not fan of getting your head messed with, but I cant see you like this, you dont have to tell me anything if you dont want to but please

Erik sighs leaving the mug on the handrail, he extends his forearm, letting her trail her fingers down his veins, her hand holding his wrist as her thumb brushed the serial number tattooed near his wrist.

She lets out a soft Gasp as her hand interlazes her fingers with his.

Suddenly he feels what she feels.

Sadness,compassion, worry...and love?

It burns him right on his chest, its overwhelming, how long has she been harboring this crush?

He coos, the fear he felt was going away, he felt calm now, he squeezed her hand softly coming closer to her, she presses her head on his bicep as tears go down her face.

She was feeling what his nightmares were about, his parents, his wife and daughter.

His free hand caressed her cheek kissing the top of her head.

--im so sorry Erik-- jericó said looking at him-- all that happened to you, it was awful...oh my god...--he felt how bad she felt for him, he hugs her tightly.

He was understood,that made him feel better, he hug his friend tightly.

--youre so strong for living with all of this-- jer said-- I couldnt understand before but I do now...

He smiles softly leaning in-- I dont understand how can you live with all this love for me, what? You think I couldnt feel that too?, come here you

He kissed jerico, pulling her closer hugging her waist, she kisses back as he trails down her neck leaving kisses all over her skin.

He presses his head against the crook of her neck-- thank you for helping me jerico

--Thank you for letting me help you Erik

They go inside the mansion again and up to her room.

They lay down on the bed as he hugs her from behind.

He was at ease,he could go back to sleep again.

Though,he let her trail down his forearm to his hand and hold it, using her powers to lull him into a peacefull slumber.

-- I love you--erik said before falling asleep against her back.

--i love you too--answered jerico squeezing his hand.

#erik tag pending #ask to tag #holocaust mention tw #tw holocaust mention #cw holocaust mention #holocaust imagery

[softdreamyhours]

more than a stranger | L.Mark

genre: angst, fluff, fwb!au cliche ik

pairing: mark lee x reader

word count: 5.4k

warnings: swearing, alcohol and some suggestive themes

request: yes, im sorry it took so long to actually write

authors note: im back bitches.

friday

You knew it was a terrible idea the second the words fell from his mouth but the way his sparkling hazel eyes bored into your own duller ones, the way his lips curved up at the corners to form a small smirk on his face, the way his black hoodie hung from his broad shoulders and the way all of this made you feel caused a reaction in your stomach you had never felt before. You rack your brain for a good reason to say yes because you so desperately want to, but every single fibre in your being is screaming ‘no, run away!’

You know and understand how much saying yes to this ridiculous idea will hurt you and you feel your head begin to shake in disagreement, however your insides lurch once again when he raises his eyebrows slightly waiting for your answer. You think over his suggestion some more, the thought of being able to fool around and spend time with such a captivating man makes your heart rate increase tenfold and you eventually feel your head nodding in agreement giving in to the mesmerizing look on his face and you watch as his smile widens at your answer. Once he gets the consent he needs Mark Lee takes one step closer to you, his frame is now towering over your own and his chest brushes over yours as he breathes, he reaches forward, placing his warm hand near your elbow before sliding it down your wrist slowly, you soon feel his fingertips against your palm and not long after that his fingers slide between yours.

“Now?” he whispers, you feel his warm breath breeze over your cheeks and you tilt your head upwards so that you are looking into his eyes.

Nodding slowly in reply you feel Mark tighten the grip he has on your fingers slightly causing a feeling of warmth to run up your arm, he then pulls you out of the soundless kitchen and guides you up the stairs away from the booming speakers and sweaty bodies and into a much quieter bedroom.

saturday

Laying on top of your bed staring at the bland ceiling of your bedroom you reminisce over the way Mark had made you feel last night. You were not sure what to expect but you certainly did not expect him to be as sweet as he was. The man made you feel special and wanted, as if whatever the two of you are doing is more than ‘just a fling’. You remember the feeling of Marks lips on your skin, the way his hot breaths fanned over your cheeks. Your stomach burned at the thought of his skin touching yours, you missed it. You missed him.

Shaking your head you groan loudly and roll over onto your side, you knew this would happen, you were just expecting the hurt to hold off for a little longer. You were hoping to be able to enjoy some of your time with Mark before the pain began to set in. However your emotions have failed you and there has been a dull ache sitting in your chest cavity, right about where your heart is situated, since the night you had spent with him and nothing you have been doing for the whole day has been able to lessen the sting.

monday

You walk onto campus tired and not in the mood for lectures. As you make your way across the courtyard your mind begins to wander about everything that is going to happen today and all the work you are probably going to get, when suddenly you remember that Mark Lee will be in the same lecture as you this morning. The thought of seeing him again makes your stomach drop and a sudden wave of nerves flows through your body, you have no idea what you are going to say to him, what do you say to a person you have a huge crush on? A person who you don’t really know extremely well who you just happened to have sex with two nights ago?

For the rest of your walk to the lecture hall you go over all the possible scenarios that may unravel when you speak to Mark this morning, and by the time you make your way through the doors you feel ready to answer any question he may ask you. You glance up and see him sitting with a few of his friends to the right of the hall and so you begin walking in that direction. When you get closer you see Marks’ eyes scan the room quickly and you get ready to send him a small smile when his eyes meet yours, however they don’t and it’s as if you aren’t even there. The man turns back to his friends and falls back into the conversation again smoothly, your steps falter slightly out of light surprise and you end up stumbling a little bit. Maybe he didn’t see you?

“You good?” you hear someone say and look up to see Johnny, one of Marks’ friends laughing softly.

“I’m good,” you offer him a smile back knowing he’s not being rude.

During the whole interaction with Johnny, Mark does not spare you a single glance so with a confused mind and a slightly red face you make your way to the back of the hall and take a seat.

Halfway through your lecture your phone vibrates on the small desk you are sitting at, sighing softly you pick it up and see a text from an unknown number.

From: unknown.

wanna meet up after class ;)

You furrow your brow in confusion and try and figure out who this person is, not knowing you decide to text them back and ask.

To: unknown.

who is this?

You turn your phone over and leave it next to you so that you are able to focus on the lecture once more. After a few minutes of taking down notes your phone buzzes once again and you pick it up, when you read the text your breath hitches in your throat.

From: unknown.

mark lee

You feel your cheeks burn and you quickly lock your phone and shove it in your backpack, not sure what to do or how to respond. You place your chin in one of your hands and face the front but you can no longer focus on what your lecturer is saying, your thoughts are fully focused on Mark Lee, who is sitting a few rows in front of you, who couldn’t even look at you this morning and who now wants to meet up after class? It just doesn’t make any sense to you. Yet, for some reason, your heart flutters slightly and a small smile grows on your face. Mark went out of his way to get your number to contact you because the two of you did not exchange numbers the last time you were together and that simple thought makes you think that, maybe, you can go through with this whole absurd idea.

~

“You got his number?” One of your friends gasps loudly.

“Quiet, please.” You almost wine, looking around the little coffee shop the two of you are sitting at to see if anyone heard her.

“Come on, no one knows who were talking about.” She rolls her eyes.

You just shake your head and take a sip of your drink.

“So how did you get it?” She asks, leaning over the table towards you with an eager face, ready to hear the whole story.

“Well,” you mumble, “he texted me first.” You say softly feeling your face heat up and you can only imagine how red your cheeks must be.

“What?” She whisper yells.

You nod your head and smile at her feeling giddy.

“So let me get this straight,” she begins, “your long time crush, Mark Lee himself, went out of his way to get your number,” she says raising her eyebrows, as if she is checking that she has understood everything you told her so far, “he then texts you asking if you want to meet up after class?” She checks.

You nod your head to confirm that she has got everything right so far.

“But you didn’t reply?” She asks astounded.

“Yeah,” you mumble, looking down at the table.

“What is wrong with you?” She exclaims.

You just shrug, not sure how to answer her. You came to have some coffee with your wisest friend because you are in desperate need of some advice about how to go about the very questionable circumstance you are in, however you did not tell her the whole story. All you told her is that you bumped into him at the party on Friday and that the two of you chatted for a while, you also told her about how he ignored you in the morning but then texted you a few minutes later. You made the choice to ‘forget’ to tell her about the part where he dicked you down pretty damn good.  

“Seriously,” she shakes her head, “dumb move on your part.” She giggles softly.

“No,” you start to defend yourself, “why did he ignore me in the morning then?”

“He was probably nervous,” she tells you.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at her words, if only she knew the whole story.

“Reply now.” She instructs, placing her hand on the table palm facing up.

You look down at her hand briefly and then move your eyes back up to her face to give her a puzzled look.  

“Phone.” She deadpans.

“No.” You say firmly, “I can reply to my own text messages, thank you.” You say.

“Clearly you can’t,” she rolls her eyes, referring to your inability to answer the message when it first came through.

After a few more minutes of bickering between the two of you she eventually manages to persuade you to let her text Mark back on your behalf.

To: Mark Lee

sorry for the late reply, we could meet up now if you’re free? : )

You nod your head gently when you read over the text your friend sent.

“See,” she says, “I didn’t sabotage you or whatever you thought I was going to do.”

You chuckle and shake your head, but your smile falls and you almost throw your phone across the room when you see an incoming phone call from Mark.

“That was quick,” your friend mutters.

“What do I do?” You ask, panicked.

“Answer!” Your friend almost shouts at you, dumbfounded by your idiocy.

“H-hello?” You stutter as you place your phone against your ear.

“Hey,” Mark answers, “where do you want to meet?”

“Uh…” You trail off, not knowing what to say.

“My place, or yours?” He asks.

“Mine is g-good.” You tell him and squeeze your eyes shut in annoyance at yourself for not being able to talk to him with a steady voice.

“Great, I’ll see you in ten.” He tells you before hanging up.

“Well?” Your friend asks, looking at you with expectant eyes.

“He said that he’ll see me in ten,” you mumble, still stunned by what just went down.

“Then you better get going!” She tells you, ushering you to leave.

~

You rush into your apartment and manage to clean it and yourself up before Mark knocks on your door and the one and only thing you think about the whole time you are doing this is what you are going to say to him, are you going to bring up the fact that he ignored you or just forget it?

When you hear the knock on your door you jump slightly before you take a slow walk to open the door so you are able to take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm your nerves.  

“Hey,” you say as you open the door.

You look up and run your eyes up and down Marks figure quickly, he looks breath-taking.

“Hi,” he smiles stepping in through the door.

Before you have a chance to say anything else Mark captures your lips with his own in a soft yet heated kiss and the moment you feel his mouth on yours and his arms around your waist all conscience thought leaves you and you feel a fire begin to burn inside of you.

“Room,” Mark mumbles as his lips move from your mouth to your jaw.

“What?” you ask his out of breath.

“Where’s your bedroom,” he says more clearly this time before sucking on your neck.

When you realise what he wants the two of you stumble your way over to your bedroom, lips never leaving each other’s for a moment.

wednesday

“You’re so beautiful,” Mark mumbles before leaving a lingering kiss on your lips.

The two of you are standing in the small entryway of your apartment, him in some sweatpants and a t-shirt and you in nothing but the hoodie he was wearing when he arrived earlier on in the evening. His eyes have a noticeable glint of affection in them and your already red face gains even more colour at his words.

“You too,” you whisper awkwardly, looking at the ground.

You hear a laugh make its way from Marks chest into the air around you and your stomach does a small flip at the sound.

“I’ll see you soon.” He dismisses himself with a few words and a small peck to the top of your head and after a small while it’s as if he was never even here.

thursday

Sighing into the receiver of your cell phone you let Mark know that you are busy and that now is not the best time to meet up.

“Please baby,” he says in a hushed, breathy tone.

You pause and look around the table you are sitting at, almost everyone has their nose buried in a text book and it hasn’t been a very enlightening study group anyway.

“Y/n?” Mark asks, in the same tone as before.

“Fine,” you mumble, “I’ll see you soon.”

Walking to Marks home you groan softly at the grip he has on your heart, you would be willing to drop everything you are doing at any given time to just spend ten minutes with the boy. You know all too well that he is going to whisper syrup-sweet words into your ears until his voice is the only thing you will ever want to hear again, then he will touch your body in such a way that within moments you are craving more, then he will help you experience pure bliss before swiftly sending you on your way only to call you again when he feels like it.

friday

You see him at the bar with his friends and send him a polite wave however his eyes just scan your body quickly and then move to look at the guys he is with, continuing his conversation with them. Your heart sinks and the only thing you feel like doing know is going home, instead you turn to the bartender and order a shot.

“Let’s get out of here,” a familiar voice whispers into your ear later on in the evening.

You feel your heart rate pick up and at first it is out of anger, you are angry at the fact the Mark only seems to want to be with you when it suits him, but then he whispers into your ear what your outfit is doing to him and now your heart is beating faster for another reason and you find yourself letting the man escort you out of the bar and into his car.

tuesday

You lay on your back staring at your blank ceiling breathing heavily, turning your head to the side you smile softly and watch Marks back muscles flex as he puts his t-shirt on.

“I’ll see you soon,” the boy mumbles turning to face you. He leaves a quick peck on your forehead before making his way out of your bedroom.

Your heart aches when you hear your front door close and you lay in silence for a few moments just like you have been doing for the past few weeks and you soon feel a tear run down your temple, you turn over onto your side and pull your knees up against your chest and feel more tears fall down your face.

“I don’t think you can take any more of this,” you whisper to yourself knowing that the pain was becoming way more evident than the pleasure.

With a heavy heart you reach for your phone and open your chat with Mark.

To: Mark

Please don’t come over again.

After you send the message you block and delete his number, salty tears are still flowing as you do this but you keep reminding yourself that the agony of not seeing him again will be way better than the agony of continuing your little ‘relationship’.

sunday

“Woah,” your friend says letting out a long breath.

“Yeah,” you reply in the same manner.

After ending whatever you had with Mark you locked yourself up in your room, not even bothering to attend lectures, your friend decided to bombard you with questions until you caved and told her everything. So you did. You told her all about how Mark made you feel, how he always came into your bedroom and kissed you like you were the only person in the world and then left like it meant absolutely nothing, how at home he made you feel like nothing else mattered besides the two of you but in public you were nothing more than a stranger.

“What an asshole,” she mumbles.

“Not really,” you sigh, “I knew it was a bad idea.”

“I don’t even know what to say.” Your friend sighs.

You just shrug in reply, your heart still aches at the thought of him. You have fallen in love with the Mark that came over almost every night and spoke to you with his honey-like voice and who touched you so gently it made you feel like you were the most precious thing but you grew to hate the Mark you saw in public who never spoke a word to you and the confusion that caused burned a whole into your heart that you are not sure you will ever be able to fill again.

monday

Walking to lectures was torturous, your thoughts were being torn in two different directions. On one hand you did want to pass and get your degree and for that to happen you needed to attend lectures, but on the other hand you know that walking into the lecture hall and seeing Mark will cause your emotions to bite down on your heart so hard that the hole that is already there will grow and cause you more pain.

When you step into the lecture hall you make an effort to keep your head held down in case he happened to be in the room already.

“Y/n?” You hear someone say, they sound confused.

You glance up quickly and see Johnny standing up and looking at you with a surprised expression covering his features.

“Hey,” you mumble, trying to force a smile but you know you probably look slightly insane.

“You’re back.” He states, smiling.

Seeing Johnnys’ smile causes the forced smile on your own face to become more realistic, he has always been sweet to you. Always said something to you every day, whether it be a simple ‘hello’ or ‘you cut your hair? It looks nice.’ But your smile falls from your face when you look around him and find Mark staring at you.

The two of you look into each other’s eyes for a second or two before you drop your gaze to the floor. You swallow hard to suppress the tears that are forming in your eyes before looking up again at Johnny to give him a quick smile before walking away from the group of guys to find an empty desk as far away from Mark Lee as possible.

After the lecture you wait until everyone has left the hall so you can minimise the probability of you bumping into Mark. You realise that you might be acting slightly childish but you really don’t think you will be able see him and not cry, the wound that’s been created is still fresh.

You sigh as you pick up your backpack and head out of the empty lecture hall, as you walk out of the door and turn to your left to make your way home someone calls out your name and you hear footsteps jog towards you.

“Johnny?” You say confused.

“Hey,” he smiles, “how are you doing?”

“I’m okay,” you tell him, trying your best to return his smile.

“You didn’t look to good this morning,” he says looking down, “I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

“That’s really sweet,” you say feeling your insides become warm at the man’s kindness.

Johnny just shrugs in reply and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Do you want to maybe,” Johnny pauses and shrugs again before continuing, “go for coffee?”

“Sure,” you chuckle, nodding your head.

You and Johnny end up sitting in a café just off campus for three hours talking about everything that came to mind, you could really feel a connection between the two of you. The man was absolutely hilarious and it feels like he really understands you, in a way only someone who has known for years would understand you.

“Thanks,” you say to Johnny, who is standing in front of you, “I had a good time this afternoon.”

“Me too,” he replies smiling softly, “I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks, referring to the class you share with him.

You nod your head and grin at him before turning around and making your way into your building. Walking up the stairs towards your small apartment you smile at the thought of having another friend to confide in and lean on when need be.

“Hello,” you hear a familiar voice say, pulling you away from your thoughts.

You look up and see Mark Lee standing at your front door. The smile that was previously covering your features immediately falls at the sight of him and the throbbing of your heart that you had thought began to fade returned.

“W-what are you doing here?” You stutter out, still shocked by his arrival.

“I guess I just wanted to see you.” The boy shrugs.

You roll your eyes at his response and push past him so that you are able to unlock your door, you know exactly what he means by “see” and you are most definitely not in the mood.

“Well then I ought to apologize,” you tell him feeling a sudden surge of confidence run through your veins.

“What?” Mark asks confused.

“Because I don’t particularly want to see you.” You say strongly before closing the door in his face.

After locking the door you stare at the closed entrance for a few moments catching your breath, you then feel your legs buckle slightly beneath you as the adrenalin that was previously running through your body leaves your veins.

“No, what the fuck.” You hear Marks voice come from outside, he sounds frustrated, “y/n, please just let me in.”

Listening to his angered yet still wildly enduring voice makes your heart rate increase and a lump to form in your throat, squeezing your eyes shut to prevent any tears from falling you  shake your head vigorously. Your brain and heart are in a heated argument much like the one they had on the first night of your intense ordeal with Mark. Your brain is yelling at you to ignore him and save yourself the extended heartbreak of talking to him again but your heart longs for his arms to be wrapped around you, engulfing your body in his warm embrace.

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me,” Mark interrupts your thought process, “I don’t care how long I have to wait.”

Sighing loudly, you fan your face trying to cool down your burning cheeks, the last thing you want to do in front of Mark Lee is cry. After a couple of deep breaths and a short pep talk you decide to open the door, when you do you see a surprised but still slightly aggravated man standing in front of you.  

“What do you want to talk about?” You question bitterly.

“Just explain to me why you don’t want to see me anymore.” He says shrugging softly, his eyes not letting their gaze on your own fall.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” you say flatly, placing your hands on your hips in hopes that your defensive attitude will mask your true emotions.

“Actually you do,” he states shoving his hands into his pockets, looking at you with an expectant gaze.

“Actually I don’t,” you mimic his tone, wanting the conversation to end as soon as possible.

“Actually you do.” Mark demands, you can see that he is getting frustrated, “you can’t just leave me hanging like that y/n.”

“I’m sorry if I wounded your ego, tough guy.” You tell him, the confidence from earlier returning, “but I just wasn’t feeling it anymore.” You lie.

“Oh please,” he sighs, “I can see right through you y/n, tell me the truth.”

The confidence leaves your body as quickly as it arrives when you hear his words. During the time you spent with Mark the two of you did learn almost everything about one another.

“I just couldn’t do it anymore,” you answer eventually, giving up the façade you had put up to protect your dignity and hide your true emotions.

“Why not?” He questions.

Sighing deeply you glance up and into his eyes for a moment, he looks truly curious.

“Because Mark,” you say becoming frustrated, “I just can’t do this anymore.” You finish your sentence with a loud sigh.

“But why y/n?” he asks you again and you can see that he is also starting to get frustrated, “talk to me.”

“Because,” you say softly feeling all of your pent up emotions bubbling up, ready to burst. “Because I fell in love, Mark.” As you begin to confess your deepest darkest feelings to the boy standing in front of you, you feel a few salty tears roll down your cheeks. You shake your head a chuckle bitterly, your feelings of dejectedness and loneliness turning into feelings of fury instead. “I fell in love with a boy who came over almost every night and treated me like an actual princess,” you say, your voice increasing in volume as you carry on, “I fell in love with a guy who acts like I don’t exists when he sees me anywhere else that isn’t my bedroom.”

Sending a glare across the room to Mark you run the palms of your hands over your cheeks riding them of the sticky feeling covering them caused by the tears that fell over them. You watch as Mark just stares at you with a look on his face that you cannot read.

“You’re in love with me?” He asks bewildered after a deafening silence.

You scoff and roll your eyes in reaction, “is that seriously all you got from what I just said?”

“Are you?” He asks, a smirk beginning to spread over his lips.

Shaking your head firmly, you feel your heart drop slightly at his expression, “just go home Mark, you got what you wanted and I am definitely not in the mood to be rejected or made fun of for whatever this one-sided relationship is.”

Walking to your front door with your head lowered in embarrassment you don’t notice how quickly the smile falls off of Marks features when he catches a small glimpse of hurt in your eyes. You open the door once you reach it so that Mark will be able to leave, but he begins to protest.

“Wait,” he starts, taking a step closer to you but you interrupt him before he can continue.

“Please go Mark.” You whisper, your voice not being stable enough to properly talk.

“I don’t want to,” he says stubbornly and you look at him in disbelief.

“Mark,” you warn, “leave.”

“No.”

“Oh my god,” you say, voice raised slightly, “are you so desperate to humiliate me that you won’t even leave my own house?” You question him, not able to process that someone could ever be so spiteful.

“Y/n, let m-” Mark tries to answer but you cut him off once again.

“Look I’m sorry that I don’t want to play your little game anymore Mark,” you’re yelling now, looking him dead in the eyes, “but you don’t get to come into my life, turn it upside down and then laugh about it later.”

“Does it look like I am laughing right now y/n?” The boy yells right back at you.

Your breath catches in your throat and you pause, shocked at his sudden outburst. Mark places his hands on his hips and gives you a serious look.

“If you would just give me a chance to explain myself,” he says calmly, taking slow steps toward you, “you would know that I happen to be in love with you too.”

By the time the boy has finished his sentence he is standing right in front of you, looking up into his eyes you process what he just said and once his words have sunken in you feel your mind flood with confusion.

“What?” You whisper, more to yourself than the person standing just a few centimetres away from you.

“I am so deeply in love with you y/n.” Mark states, placing one of his hands against yours and intertwining your fingers with his own.

“But when you saw me on campus…” You’re whispering still, thoughts only becoming more muddled.

You hear Mark sigh deeply and feel his other hand wrap around your free one so that both of your hands are laced together with his, “I know, I acted like a complete asshole.” Hearing his confession stunned you because the last thing you expected the boy in front of you to do is admit that he has been in the wrong.

“I don’t even know why I did that,” he carries on, “I guess I was scared?” His last sentence falls off of his lips as more of a question than anything else.

“Scared?” You ask softly, squeezing his hands, the anger and tension that was pent up in your body fading away and a feeling of worry and protectiveness comes to replace it.

“I don’t know.” Mark groans throwing his head back, frowning, “feelings are so hard.” He whines.

“They are,” you agree laughing softly at how adorably relatable he is being right now.

thursday

Soon after the argument and make-up session you had with Mark the two of you walk onto campus hand in hand. Feeling the happiest you have in a long while you laugh at something your new boyfriend just said as you make your way into the lecture hall.

“What do we have here?” A puzzled voice asks and you look away from Mark to see Johnny looking at you two with a furrowed brow.

Both you and Mark are at a loss for words, and have no idea how to explain to anyone what the both of you have been through to get to where you are now.

“So you’re together?” Johnny clarifies after a brief and not very detailed explanation from you.

“Yes.” Mark answers, nodding his head.

“I didn’t even know you guys were friends to be honest,” Johnny shakes his head, obviously not completely understanding everything.

“Yeah Mark,” you say raising your eyebrows in his direction, “I didn’t even know we were friends.” Your accusatory tone causes your boyfriends cheeks to lose their colour and you can’t help but smile softly, you have put everything behind you but still, it’s fun to tease him every now and again.

“Okay, I’m going to ignore that,” Johnny says warily, backing away slightly, “but congrats, you guys look good together.”

A large smile forms on your face at the tall man’s words and you and Mark make your way over to some empty seats. The both of you sit down and the palm of one of Marks hands habitually places itself onto your thigh.

“We do make cute couple don’t we?” You whisper, leaning close to Marks ear and you can’t stop the grin that covers your features when a light blush forms on the boys cheeks.  

#nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct imagine #nct scenario #nct mark #mark lee #lee mark #mark imagine #mark scenario #nct fluff #nct angst #mark lee angst #mark lee fluff

[pinkykitten]

Mission Fail

Marvel

Yon-Rogg x starforce! female reader

Warning: violence, blood

Specifics: romance, fighting, one-shot, fluff, race neutral reader, 2 for the price of 1!!!!!!!!!

People: yon-rogg, carol danvers, minerva, some skrull people 

Words: 1,741

Requested: By anon Could you do a Yon-Rogg x reader imagine? Like where the reader goes on a mission with Yon but is then kidnapped, but breaks out and gets back to him. 

and

@fortheloveoflamp Hello! May I please request a Yon-Rogg x reader, where they are very close (and they secretly like each other) but he’s the unemotional robot so the reader doesn’t know. One day she gets injured pretty badly, and he mends her up, being all “you need to be more careful,” type of stuff and ends up spilling the beans by like saying “I need you to stick around” or something along those lines. Not a confession but not a cover-up. And it’s just really cute but also a lil angsty? Thank you so much!!

Authors Note: so i was gonna post yesterday but there was a issue with my house and yada yada yada i couldnt so im sorry for that but im happy i got to post today. my requests r closed atm cuz i wanna do something special for avengers soon so be aware of that when that comes out. also i thought of why not add two requests to 1 fic so i did and this is what came out of that. this is my first yon-rogg fic so i do hope u like it! 

“Do you remember the mission y/n?” Yon-Rogg was persistent in asking you this question. You were more of the rebel of the group and took precautions lightly. 

You groaned as you turned around sassily at Yon-Rogg, “yes commander I heard you like the 40th time. I get what we’re supposed to do.”

���Then I should suspect you do it with excellency and remember to be on the lookout.”

You raised your brow and placed your hands on Yon-Rogg’s arms, “aww are you worried for me? Do I feel an emotion coming on?” Yon-Rogg gives you a stern look of warning and you give up with a sigh. You sit in your seat in the ship and wait till you arrive to the planet. 

Vers and Minerva tried to stealthily motion over to you. Minerva with a knowing look and Vers wearing a smirk on her face. 

“So y/n, you and Yon-Rogg. Whats that all about?” 

“Yeah you two seem so suspicious lately,” Minerva crossed her arms, awaiting an answer. You rolled your eyes, “wouldn’t you two like to know?”

Both of their mouths flew open and you laughed at their expression and idea that there was something between you and the commander. “You guys I’m joking! He’s my commander, my boss, I can’t do that to him. Also, there is nothing going on between us, so whatever fantasy you two have please erase it. Oh and did you guys forget that we’re not allowed to have emotions? Please do be careful with that, especially around him.”

They both looked down seeming sad that the love they thought you two had was a mistake. 

“I still can dream though!” Vers shouted as she ran away before you can disagree with her on that. 

Unknown to you all Yon-Rogg was present and listening to that whole conversation. Why did he feel distraught when you said that your relationship with him was strictly business? He could feel himself drawing further away from the strict rules he was to obey. No emotions. Trying to shake the thought and feeling away he looked at the screen of the monitor. It indicated that they were on the planet. “Alright we’re here! For the good of all Kree! ”

As the whole crew exits the ship everyone spreads out to cover more land and to take in any Skrulls. 

“Okay lets all spread out, you y/n you’ll join me.” Yon-Rogg ordered as he stepped closer to you and grasped your arm. You could hear the chuckle of the other members as they saw how protective Yon-Rogg was over you. 

You felt that same way about him but tried to keep your feelings at bay so as not to have emotions. “As much as I would love to fight with you Commander I think I’m better off by myself.”

Yon-Rogg’s face became of annoyance as he wanted you to stick with him. He was about to intervene and order you some more but you fled the scene and gave the rest of the crew a wave of goodbye.

As you rounded around a huge boulder to get a better view of the Skrulls you paused to check up on them some more. “Finally, now Yon-Rogg can see what I’m capable of.” All this time you wanted to prove to him that you had what it takes to be in the Starfroce.

You took out your gun as you saw the Skrulls more in your vision but as you were about to pull the trigger you heard a rustle of the leaves behind you and saw a Skrull. You stood up quick and you were about to shoot him when another one punched you behind the head and made you go limp. The last thing you heard was the rest of the crew crying out your name, especially Yon-Rogg.

You were taken to a mini base on the planet, just far away from where the ship that you were in parked. 

“We need to get them in a trap. I know for certain they will go after this girl and when they do we will be here,” one of the Skrulls said as he watched the monitor with an evil smirk. 

You were taken captive, your arms and legs were cuffed to a metal bed. You could feel the sting on the back of your head from the punch earlier. “Yep thats gonna need stitches,” you thought as you looked around your settings, trying to find a way out. 

“Oh she’s awake.”

Your brows furrowed and you tried to untie yourself from the cuff, “what do you want with me?” You barked as you snarled to the enemies faces. 

“We don’t want you, we want your leader. We want to make you Kree pay, and be no more!”

You smirked and chuckled, “you think you’ll get rid of us that easily. You’re badly mistaken. We’ll always keep coming and taking you down no matter what. Its what you deserve.”

The Skrull stood quiet, shaking his head, “you don’t know everything.”

“Let me go now!”

The Skrull ignored you and turned around sitting by the monitor. You had to think fast on an escape plan. Seeing that your gun was far away and you were tied you quickly threw that idea away. You saw a guard sitting very close by near you fast asleep. You looked around you and then up and saw the perfect item. You stretched your neck and with your teeth bought the stick down that was atop the shelf above your head. You kept the stick on your mouth but quickly paused when you heard more shuffling of the Skrulls feet. They seemed to not focus on you and walked right by. You continued with your plan. Using the stick you point the stick, with your mouth at the guard and put the stick so that the ring or the chain that the key was on went around the stick. With more than one try you successfully got the key on the stick. You brought it to your hand and used the key to unlock the cuffs. (i know i say stick so many times in this sentence just like bear🐻with me and again im sorry) 

“Yes,” you whispered in victory as you hopped off the bed. You tip toed out of the room but accidentally bumped into a guard. 

“Wha-what do you think you’re doing?”

“Ugh using the bathroom!” You scrambled to your feet and ran as fast as you could. You could hear the guard call to the other Skrulls and soon there were a whole flock of them after you. 

“I wanted to be by myself I said, I wanted to prove myself I said!” Next thing you knew they started shooting their guns at you, left to right. You dodged all the attacks and as you turned a corner your face met with a hard chest. 

“Y/n?” A familiar voice called to you. As you stood up you saw Yon-Rogg. Happy to see him you hug him and whisper his name. You quickly realize that you are not supposed to do that and unwrap yourself from him. Before you could apologize Yon-Rogg grabs your hand and guides you and him out of the battle. More shots are fired and Yon-Rogg stands in your way so if by any chance a blast would hit him instead of you. 

You two make it out and jump into the Starforce ship. 

You were out of breath, holding onto the ships walls for dear life. You could tell Yon-Rogg was angry. “I told you to be with me. Why didn’t you listen?”

You opened your mouth, about to say something when you could see that privacy was not really happening at this moment. Everyone was looking at you two. “I would like to speak with you commander, alone.”

Yon-Rogg nodded as he understood. 

You opened the door to a tiny room with a bed and sat on the bed. 

“Okay, explain,” Yon-Rogg gave the commandment as if he were talking sternly to a little kid. 

“You know I’m not a little child. I get why you are so angry but I had my reasons.”

“Which were?”

You bit your lip and thought about what if you told him the truth, what if he thought you were being naive or stupid? Yon-Rogg sat by you and looked directly into your eyes, “you know you can tell me anything.”

“I just wanted to prove myself to you. I wanted to show you what I was capable of and that I was meant to be on this team. But instead I’ve just made a fool out of myself.” You peered down, disappointed with yourself. 

Yon-Rogg lifted you face up, “Y/n you didn’t need to do any of that stuff. I already knew you were extraordinary. You are meant to be on this team, you’re meant to be here. I had full faith in you.” He gave you a cheerful smile and this led you to want more of him like this, vulnerable. You were seeing a different side of him. Yon-Rogg caught himself before he could go any further and got off the bed and stood up, serious. “Um, well I just, are you okay?”

You were about to nod when you felt the cold feeling of your blood dripping down your neck. You shuddered and touched it with your fingertips. As you brought it to your eyes they were coated with dark, deep red liquid. (yeah thats called blood ms.writer. jeesh!) Yon-Rogg was worried, afraid if you were seriously hurt. “I need to take care of that.”

Yon-Rogg took part of his armor off and collected the first aid kit. He took part of your armor off so you could be comfortable and laid you down to work behind your head. Once he was finished he bandaged you up and sat by the bed while you laid it in, getting better. 

“You need to be more careful.”

Shrugging you give a light chuckle and placed your hand on his arm, “I’ll try next time.”

“I’m serious y/n, we...I need you to stick around.” Yon-Rogg placed his hand on top of yours. Signifying he cares for you, truthfully. You beam with a smile and start to close your eyes, exhausted. Just enjoying the presence of him there beside you and knowing that he will always be there to protect you. 

Tag list: @harrington-lover, @angelgl16, @perfectlybeautifulsuit, @hyehoney, @haven-prelude (wont let me tag), @leasly, @totally-alexa21, @creamy-pasta-boi, @multireese, @fanfictionrecommendations-com, @prentisskelley, @malereaderforkpop (wont let me tag), @guardian-of-cookies, @justafangirl-97, @teenageshitposts (wont let me tag), @andreaoreas, @dippergravity (wont let me tag), @some-booty, @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople, @collectiveyou, @wtfisalltherandoms, @fangirl-4-life415, @dirbel, @marwantr, @divaanya, @wassupitschloe, @idontknowwhattocallthisworld (wont let me tag), @spycii

wanna be tagged in my crap? comment!

#captain marvel #marvel #captain marvel fic #marvel fic #fanfic #captain marvel imagine #marvel imagine #yon-rogg #yon-rogg x reader #x reader #yon-rogg imagine #race neutral reader #jude law #imagine #requested #mission fail #i love this movie so much and im so happy people actually requested for the movie #even tho yon-rogg is kinda a butthole he still is a cool character #and jude is hot so cant complain here

[stevie-rcgers]

The Roman Word for Love // IV

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: where you had bruises, cuts, and scars your soulmate got flowers. everyone is born with one soulmate. bucky barnes lived long enough to have two.

Word Count: 2000+

Rating/Warnings: language, like one word

a/n: THIS CHAPTER KICKED MY ASS. i gots the writer's block and at the same time, i had so many things i wanted to write but didn't have the creativity handy to do so, hence why this one took at DANG long. anyways here we go! special thanks to @bipcoin for reading through all my terrible drafts and to @speedypan for giving me the push i needed to get this edited. also im not including trwfl iii.5 in the the series, im choosing to ignore it lol

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The warm afternoon breeze was exactly what he needed. Alone on the far end of the wrap around porch, away from the lively bustle, Bucky pressed his fingers to his temples, hoping to will away the budding migraine that loomed over him. They had been with him since he could remember, the single thing the young girl genius couldn't help him with.

Next to him on the porch swing, a full paper plate messily put together and carefully delivered by little Morgan. She had brought it to him telling him, with the speech impediment characteristic of a five-year-old, to eat so he would get big and strong. What a sweet kid.

Relaxing his shoulders and straightening his back, Bucky forced himself to sit up. He needed to salvage the rest of this day. Celebrate with his family, what he had left of it. To eat.

He picked himself up and trudged inside to wash his hands.

The house was quiet, serene like the surroundings it also called home. Soaping up his hands he took care to carefully clean around his marks as if the act of washing had any effect on their appearance or lack thereof. His mind wandered where it always went these days, between wanting to know who you were and insisting he wasn't prepared for an interaction like that. Constantly battling between longing and avoidance.

In search of a towel to dry his hands, Bucky looked over to the fridge. Taller than he, every spare inch covered in hand-drawn pictures, the preferred medium crayon and the occasional watercolor. His lips curled into a relaxed grin as he laid eyes on the newest one, the one Morgan had run around showing them earlier that day. He easily recognized all the stick figure rendering of friends and of himself; she'd told them it was a picture of her family.

-💮-

You heard the laughing first. The lively noises warmed you in the crisp forest wind. A soft smile graced your face as you paced closer, excitement overpowering the nervousness, the crunching of leaves announcing your footfalls.

It was Steve's birthday and to be honest, you weren't ready to meet his friends.

The hand-written invitation lead you to a get together not too far outside of the city at a homey lakeside cabin.

In the distance, you could see children running around the picturesque grounds, giggles and gleeful exclamations in their wake. Closer to the house, adults huddled together at a picnic table.

The sight of them filled you with your own unique mix of emotions. On one hand, you were excited to meet his friends, on the other you were a regular person meeting what basically amounted to superheroes.

A shout of your name pulled you from your trance.

It was Steve, a blindingly bright smile on his face as he made his way towards you, jolting you out of your wallowing. He only started wearing it recently, a smile almost uncharacteristically lighthearted for someone with his experiences. It was a welcomed change to the sullen demeanor you had known him for.

"Sorry I'm late, I got lost," you revealed as he released you from his warm hello embrace.

After sharing a laugh at your comical struggle to find the hidden cabin, Steve took your hand in his, guiding you from the far end of the grounds behind the house to the lakeside pair of large picnic tables.

At its benches sat a little less than a dozen adults, all of whom who had had their eyes on you since Steve had jogged in your direction. His reassuring hold on your hand kept you grounded as they wrapped in hello hugs and firm handshakes, barely giving you time to process their individual introductions. Your mind relaxed at their warm reception, realizing how frivolous your worries were. Steve was amazing, it was to be expected that the company he kept was just as such.

After a long dinner filled with lively conversation, the sun slowly began its journey west, the summer air cooling steadily.

You had been engaged in an intense game of tag with them, or rather chase the adult after the littlest of the children had decided to team up to take you down, realizing your much larger form granted you an advantage.

"You got me!" You exclaimed from the grass covered ground, having tripped over a protruding tree root in an attempt to evade them.

After gleefully recounting to you how they had managed to take you down, the children did their best to help you up, the sweethearts they were.

Brushing off stray leaves, you stood and fixed yourself. As you did, little fingers gripped your right arm, stopping you from wiping the remaining dirt from your legs.

"Oh no!"

Pepper's daughter, Morgan, knitted her tiny eyebrows together, the pained expression on her sweet face concerning you more than the wide bleeding scrape she had spotted near your elbow. She was an observant one.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked carefully looking over your arm in his hands. The others had gathered to see it after Morgans exclamation reached their ears, attracting the attention of concerned parents and, of course, Steve.

You scoffed at his question.

"I've heard stories of you jumping out of buildings. Of the two of us, I am not the person to worry about."

He looked to you, amused by your rebuttal, you weren't wrong.

You met his gaze, soft and compassionate. Before your cheeks could turn pink, you averted your eyes, pulling yourself away from his touch. He was so cute, but you wouldn't let yourself get too comfortable.  

"I'll be okay. Just need to clean it."

He was ready to escort you toward the house, worried you'd find a way to get into more trouble in the time it took you to get there. Before he could offer, you spoke, a chuckle in your tone.

"Don't worry about me, Steve. I'll be back before it's time to cut the cake."

Defeated, Steve reminded you where the first aid kit was and walked back to the picnic tables with the children, reassuring them that you would be okay. He knew you could take care of yourself but that was just how he was. It was in his nature.

Quickly made your way towards the cabin and ascended the steps, covering the unsightly wound with your free hand. Immediately, you made way to the sink. In the warm flow you gently picked the dirt from your gash, carefully cleansing and gingerly dabbing away any extra moisture after shutting off the faucet.

Your expression twisted as you viewed you clean but open wound. You would probably need the first aid kit after all.

Up down left right. To no avail, you sorted through the kitchen cabinets, annoyed you had forgotten where it was after having guaranteed that you had done the opposite.

"It's in the cabinet above the fridge."

You let out a short startled cry, whipping around in the voice's direction. Another of Steve's guests leaned against the center island, eating, eyes turned to you. You were sure had seen him earlier that day, but had only exchanged a distant hello wave.

"Sorry." The voice was apologetic, upturned and soft despite the low register.

"No, you're okay." You chuckled to yourself as your heartbeat settled back down, offering him a smile of forgiveness as you resumed your search taking his advice.

You moved to the aforementioned cabinet, barely managing to brush the high shelf where it sat, prominently displayed, to your annoyance.

"If you don't mind me asking what are you doing cooped up in here?" You asked, back turned to him. Your futile attempts to grab the kit pushing it further out of your limited reach.

"Wasn't feeling too great." He chuckled at your periodic hops, then moved in your direction.

"Let me help."

You stepped to the side as he tapped your shoulder. Easily, he reached above and retrieved the hefty clear plastic box. Setting it down silently on the granite countertop he released the latches, opening it up and gathering the required materials for your level of hurt.

You marveled at the spread as he retrieved the supplies. A wide variety of bandages, ointments, and medicines packed together. It made sense. Not only was the home rather far from the nearest hospital, but it was also where the highest concentration of gifted individuals tended to gather.

"Sit."

You obeyed the gentle request.

After assuring you that his hands were clean, he began work on your scrape; you sat at a bar stool. Eyes as clear and blue as the July sky regarded you with concern. Focused he cleansed the area with an alcohol pad, deep voice soothing you through the sting, then administered an antibiotic ointment. You had only known him for a few moments, but you trusted him, felt comfortable, at ease.

You kept your eyes trained on his features as he finished. Deep brunette locks carefully tucked behind his ears, brushing his broad shoulders, a full beard perfectly framing his face. He wore dark colors which seemed to make him seem even more imposing despite his gentle manner. Dark jeans paired with dark boots, a lightweight henley rolled at the elbows. A black and gold mechanical left arm.

Ah.

A peaceful smile found a home on your lips as the gears spun in your brain, piecing together the identity of your attendant. You'd heard stories of him from Steve, childhood tales of misadventures, how Steve worried about his fellow centurion, what he had overcome. Bucky Barnes.

The creaking of wooden boards and the approaching sounds of lively banter caught your attention as his fingertips gingerly smoothed on a large flesh-colored bandage.

"Oh, hey," Bucky looked to you as you spoke gesturing to the door as a crowd began leaking into the area where you and he stood, "I guess it's time to cut the cake."

-💮-

Despite everything, Steve knew he was one lucky son of a bitch.

He blew out the three lopsidedly placed candles on the top of his cake, his friends and family holding the final note of the celebratory birthday tune as he did. After passing around the generous slices, Steve had taken a seat at the empty picnic table. In the foreground, everyone spread out on the vast grounds awaiting evening fireworks. Clint and Scott skipping rocks with some of the others. Pepper with the Queens kid and his aunt.

His eyes searched for Bucky. A sense of contentedness and peace settled in him as he spotted his oldest friend talking with Sam and you. It had taken him by surprise, seeing you and them in the company of one another, but he welcomed it. It was delighted surprise, reminding him of how Bucky had grown in the time since the battle. Bucky was less closed off and more importantly, he had found a place and a people with whom he could feel safe. Everything wasn't perfect but things were getting better.

Steve watched as you passed out sparklers to the group and chuckled as you lit one almost too close to your face frightening yourself in the process, eliciting a collective laughed from all present. He took a content sip of beer as you and Wanda handed out the small fireworks, being sure teach the little ones to be careful with them. His heart warmed as you walked up to Bucky offering him to light his sparkler.

He never would have seen it if you hadn't been standing so close. He never would have noticed if Bucky hadn't turned away and definitely wouldn't have noticed if Steve had not already had knowledge of all the flowers his friend had found all over his skin. Bucky came to him with every new one.

But he did see it. On the back of Bucky's arm, a new one, in the exact place where a bandage covered your injury from earlier that day.

A smile tugged at the corners of Steve's lips. 

How interesting.

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TRWFL Taglist: @smileyishere92 @shhh-no-ones-home  @rootcrop @lovely-geek @ziablackkat @shh-no-ones-home @hana-song137 @sparklyp-parker @blueskiesbleakeyes @imyourliquor-youremypoison @700teacups @aphrodites-perfume @simplysaying @ladywintersoldat @angelus320 @emberrosestorm @shawnie-jo @insideoflit

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #marvel #mcu #Winter Soldier #winter solider imagine #winter solider x reader #Steve Rogers #mine #trwfl #the roman word for love

[zxddy-panther]

Real Love

College AU

T’challa x Black Reader

A/N: Hey guys I’m back with another story ayyye. Lol um i’m not sure if i wrote this one too well. I’ve been working on it for dayyyyys guys. I hope it’s decent. Also sorry about the spacing between paragraphs. Tumblr was saying that i reached my limit so i had to squeeze.

You pace back and forth in your college dorm nervously awaiting your best friend's presence. You needed to talk to him desperately about a topic that has been torturing you mind for a few months now. His advise was very much needed in this situation. The doorbell sounded, signaling his arrival. You ran up to the door and opened the door to your bestie of 6 years holding vanilla ice cream and some other sweet treats.

You sighed in relief, "Ugh Udaku. What would I do without you."

"Nothing. You would be practically hopeless" You laughed pushing him softly

The two of you headed to your bedroom and T'challa could already see your uneasiness. You walked with your eyes pointed towards the floor, fiddling with your fingers as you did so.

Finally reaching your room T'challa spoke on his observation. "Y/N are you alright."

You turned towards him and spoke. "Yeah I just really needed your advise on something. Um so you know Jalen right?"

T'challa rolled his eyes in disgust. He wasn't too fond of your boyfriend but never told you that because he would never intentionally hurt you like that. He just made sure that he wasn't in the same vicinity as that idiot.

"Yes. What about him?" he said in an annoyed tone

You paused for a second, trying to figure out how to say it.

"Well a few months ago he um...... actually cheated on me and-"

"He WHAT!" Tchalla exclaimed

"Yeah but" you fiddled with your thumbs some more. "He's been calling me and asking me to take him back, saying that he's really changed and all of that. I mean, should I?"

Tchalla's heart was beating 10 times faster than normal. His anger and hatred for Jalen just become more a lot stronger. He just doesn't understand why you would want him back.

"Y/N, are you hearing yourself? You know he doesn't love you."

"Ok Ok T'challa you can stop now." You murmured but he just kept going.

" Y/N, you don't deserve to be treated the way he treats you! That is not love! You need to be shown what real love-"

"T'challa! Stop." All was silent and tears began to well in your eyes. You moved across the room and turned your back towards him. "Can we not talk about this? I don't want to talk about it with you anymore."

"Ok then lets not talk." Fast footsteps was all that could be heard until you felt him slip his hands around your waist. The feeling sent a shock of electricity through your body, a foreign feeling to be exact. This was something you've never felt with Jalen and you wondered why. Once T'challa made you face him he looked at your lips enticingly and leaned into you slowly.

"Aye aye. What are yo-" . T'challa placed his hand at the back of your neck and pulled you into a passionate kiss. Your eyes fluttered shut. His soft lips massaged yours in a very slow and gracious manner. Your body was being set ablaze by his touch. Any section of his smooth skin that touched your own helped to  spark a sensation that was unexplainable. He ran his hands down your body and hugged your body close to himself, like if he didn't hold on tightly to this moment it'll disappear. The sudden movement caused you to release a small moan against his lips. Tchalla pulled away from you slowly and sighed in relief.

"Tchalla. Wha-what was that." You would have never imagined that you'd someday be kissing your best friend. T'challa stood in front of you, staring at the floor.

"Y/N.." He paused and took a deep breath. I love you a-and I'm sorry for doing that. I just couldn't help myself. I've felt this way for a long time now but I just couldn't bring myself to tell you. Everyday it became a battle within myself to confess my feelings towards you. I'm also very sorry about what I said before. I shouldn't have spoken that way to you or about Jalen."

He bent down to retrieve his book bag from the corner of your room. With a sadden spirit, he began treading towards the door. "I'll just let myself out." T'challa reached for the door knob and headed out, but not before he could get one last glimpse of your face for the last time. "Good bye Y/n.." he whispered as he shut the door.

Your heart dropped from your chest and started beating in your fingertips. You blinked several times to make sure that you were not dreaming. Emotions were running wild and thoughts were jumping off the walls. Who do you love?

5 months ago

"Jalen why the fuck is my cousin blowing your phone up with nudes and text messgaes! What the hell!" You stormed into the living room where your lazy ass boyfriend laid playing on his second phone. Jalen quickly looked up at the sound of your heavy footsteps.

"Y/N what the hell are you talking about."

"My cousinnnn is sending nudes to your phone! You dumbass. Would like to explain to me how she got your number and why-" The phone chimed alerting a new message. "Oh here's and heres a new text. Lets read it. 'I want to feel you inside me again.' AGAIN?! You fucked my cousin Jalen?!" You shoved the phone in his face.

Jalen stood up and suddenly snatched from your grasp.

"Yo what the fuck did I tell you about being on my phone bruh! Should've taken your finger print off a long time ago." Jalen growled. Your blood was boiling and the rage began to build.

"Are you kidding me right now. You fucking cheated on me with my cousin of all people and you're worried about my finger print? So you're CHEATING cheating?!" Jalen looked up at you a scoffed, a smirk spreading across his long face.

"That's it! Im done." you screamed. "After all the years we've spend together! You go and do this to me?" Tears began to sting at your eyes. You ran to your room and began to pack up your things. There was no way in hell that you were staying here another second with this idiot. The muffed sound of Jalen's footsteps followed after you.

His voice come out in a deep growl, "Where the hell do you think you're going." You stood up and turned to face him.

"I'm getting the fuck away from here. You went lower than low Jalen. Do you really expect for me to sit up under this roof with you and act as if everything is ok? Hell no! There is no way I'm going to stay and let you treat me like this. I'm leaving."

He let out a dark and sinister laugh. "No you're not"

You scoffed, "Oh yeah?  And who's gonna stop me." He stared you down as his eyes began to turn dark and before you knew it you were being lifted from the ground. Jalen had a strong grip around your torso and was persistent on keeping you in the room. "Let me go!" You kicked your legs rapidly and tried to pry his arms from your body. Your back hit the hard mattress in a matter of seconds. Jalen held your arms about your head tightly, leaving you unable to move your wrists.

"Mmm you're not going anywhere baby 'cuz you mine." He bent his head down and started licking at your neck, sucking the skin harshly. His hands ran up your shirt and felt cold against your warm flesh. He squeezed your breast and began sucking your sweet spot. The same gestures that were usually done during intimacy between the two of you used to be so pure, so full of love but now all you can feel is utter disgust and anger.

"Jalen move. I don't want to hurt you." You wiggled your body under his in an attempt to slide away. He pressed his body against your right leg to get you to stop moving. He picked his head back up to face your tearstained face.

"I'm never letting you go." He pressed his lips to yours in an unwanted kiss, forcefully sticking his tongue into your mouth and invading your space. With a swiftness you used your right knee to severely hurt his groin. Jalen let out a load groan and fell onto the floor, finally releasing you from his vice grip. You jumped up fast, grabbed your bag and headed for the door. Grabbing your keys from the counter you removed his dorm key from your keychain and removed your dorm key from his own key chain.

"Never fucking contact me again!" you screamed and slammed the door.

7 months ago

"Give it back Y/N. Im serious." Tchalla yelled as he chased you down the hallway of his dorm room. You ran into his living room giggling and sat yourself on his plush carpet. You held his mini journal high above your head, teasing him.

"You're not serious look at that big smile on your face" You laughed. He looked down at you and smiled.

"Just hand it over."

"Come get it." You continued to tease. Tchalla leaped on top of you, causing you to fall onto your back with laughter in your voice. Finally grabbing the book Tchalla hovered himself above you.

"Ha. Got i-" he didn't realize the vulnerable position the two of you were in until the games ended. Looking up at him made your heart begin to beat faster. There was tension in the air and you both could definitely feel it.

You couldn't deny your feelings for Tchalla had been developing during the years of friendship the two of you shared. He was always there for you and cared so much about you. He would never go a day without calling or texting you to see if you were alright, even if there was nothing wrong. His big heart was starting to make you fall for him.

He quickly removed his body from yours, allowing you to sit up as well. You stared at the back of his head for sometime before you spoke.

"Tchalla?'

"Y/N I-I'm sorry about that."

You found his shyness adorable as you began to smile.

"Its ok silly." You stood up and walked in front of him with your hand held out. Slowly lifting his head he looked back up at you. "Lets go eat. I'm starving." He took your hand and laughed.

Present

"What the hell am I doing." You asked yourself. "I have a man who actually loves me and I let him walk out the door." Your legs moved before you could even make them. You swung your front door open and looked down the hallway. T'challa was there, walking slowly with his head down until you called out to him.

"T'challa wait!" He turned and stopped in his tracks as he watched you run to him. When you reached him you jumped into his arms, causing him to stumble back as he, surprisingly, caught you.

"It was you. Its you...Its always been you." you said as you hugged him tightly.

"Y/N what are you talking about." Releasing him from your hug you looked deeply into his eyes. "I love you too T'challa"

His eyes lit up and his smile grew wide. Hearing those words from you brought life to his heart again. He brought his hands to the sides of your face, his warm touch bringing you comfort in the moment.

"May I." T'challa asked while still staring into you. "Yes you may" You giggled as he leaned forward to kiss you once more. The kiss got more heated causing T'challa to back you up onto the hallway walls. His hands went down to your backside, rubbing and sqeezing it softly. You broke the kiss in laughter and rested your forehead against his.

Breathlessly he said "Say it again"

"I really love you T'challa Udaku"

A/N: If you like it repost it. And please message me if you want to be part of my taglist☺️

Taglist: @chaneajoyyy @wakandaking12-blog @wakanda-4evr @sisterwifeudaku @tchalla-and-mbaku @wakandankings @wakandamama @melaninmarvel

#black panther #black panther imagine #zxddy imagine #chadwick boseman #tchalla

[laurens-lil-fics]

hi again it’s me! so i was wondering if you could please do a fanfic on a modern au where firefighter!peter quill gets some burn marks on his chest and his stomach and almost all over his body, and the reader is a beautiful (yet very sexy) nurse, who heals peter up, and falls in love with him?

Heckie yes!

Stay with me. Stay with me.

That was the first thing Peter heard that voice say. He could hear the desperation in her voice, maybe it’s what set her words apart from the others. The raw emotion.

This was an off day for Peter, 10 years as a firefighter you think he’d be prepared for just about anything. And yet here he was, blinking in and out of consciousness in the hospital.

How did he know it was a hospital? For starters those ugly fluorescent lights. He saw them in his nightmares, when he’d dream of his mother. The blinding white walls were another tip. Lastly were the dozens of voices surrounding him, making him feel claustrophobic.

He was caged like an animal, a wounded animal. Then he heard her voice again.

You need to steady your breathing. Breathe with me. In and out… Just like that.

The oxygen mask pressed to his face made him panic, just for a moment, then he focused on her voice once more.

In and out… Shhhh…

The burning on his chest ripped him out of his haze, thrusting him back into the real world. He screamed into the oxygen mask, the ringing in his ears drowning out her voice.

His eyes, wild and panic stricken, bounced around the room, looking at the people and the machines surrounding him. He just barely made out someone shouting about morphine.

Movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention. His head whipped in that direction as the stranger took a needle to his IV.

The woman standing over him set the empty needle aside and looked down at him. Her hair was pulled out of her face, there was sweat on her brow and heavy bags under her eyes.

She was the most beautiful thing he had ever scene.

Another blast of pain had him surging forward. She pressed her hands to his shoulders and forced him to lay back with all her might.

Peter swore those ugly as fuck fluorescent lights formed a halo around her head, maybe it was the morphine.

You’ll be okay… You’re gonna be okay.

He breathed hard and watched her hover above him for a moment longer until his body began to relax. His eyes slowly fluttered shut and he drifted off into a long, dreamless sleep.

Why do breezes sigh every evening… whispering your name as they do…

And why have I the feeling, stars are on my ceiling… I know why and so do you…

It wasn’t the aches in his body or the natural sunlight streaming into his room that woke him up. It was that voice bringing him back to reality.

Peter slowly opened his eyes, wincing at just how bright the daylight was despite the rain clouds forming outside. He looked around the room, familiarizing himself with the space.

Even though he knew she would be there he still froze in place when he saw the woman from the night he was brought in.

She looked a lot more put together this time. She looked like she had gotten some rest since their last encounter. The woman was completely focused on her clipboard and her singing, she didn’t notice Peter was awake until he attempted to sit up in his bed.

“When you dance with me, I’m in heaven when the music- Oh my gosh. Don’t do that.” She set her clipboard on his bedside table and moved to his side as quick as a flash. She rested her hand on his shoulder and gently laid him back onto the bed.

“You need to take it slow,” she said, pulling the remote for the bed from its velcro strap on the wall and showing it to him. “This button will help you sit up… You have severe burns on your torso. You can’t put strain on yourself.”

Peter pressed onto the small arrow button, wincing as the bed began to adjust to his control. Before he could even thank her she left the room, mumbling something about getting him some food.

He sat there for a couple minutes, blankly staring at the tv mounted on the wall. It was playing one of those cook off shows. He usually hated them, but he assumed the nurse had put it on and decided to sit through the yelling and the over the top panic.

She stepped back into the room, setting a tray of food down on the table above his lap.

“I read on your medical records you have no food allergies, so this should be fine… unless you’re on one of those weird gluten free diets…” she trailed off, moving the tray closer to him.

Peter chuckled softly, wincing when he felt his chest ache from the quick movement. He took a sip of the ice water she brought him and sighed happily.

He looked up at her, not really knowing what to say as she began unboxing his meal. Of course his mouth always ran a mile a minute out of his control.

“I’m not like… Like all Freddy Krueger-y am I…?” he asked, motioning to his face.

I’m a fucking idiot.

The nurse laughed and glanced at him, giving him a onceover as she shook her head. “Never heard that term for severe 3rd degree burns before… but no, you’re not all Freddy Krueger-y. Your chest is a little worse for wear… but with some time and a lot of pain meds and aloe vera it’ll be fine.”

She retrieved her clipboard from the other side of his bed and pointed at one of the many buttons on the bed’s remote. “My name’s (Y/n), if you need anything just press this button. I’ll be right back to check on you once you’re done eating.”

Peter looked her over as she left the room, smiling to himself once she was gone.

Once he was done ripping into his food he could feel himself beginning to doze off. He growled to himself and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, hoping to keep himself awake until (Y/n) got back.

He hadn’t realized he dozed off until the sound of little white sneakers on the linoleum floors stirred him.

(Y/n) stood over him, getting the tray together as quietly as she could. She stopped once she realized her patient had woken up and gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, Mr. Quill.”

“You don’t have to apologize… and you can call me Peter….” he said, feeling butterflies in his stomach when her smile brightened.

“Well, Peter, looks like that turkey has you ready for a nap.” she said, preoccupying herself with the messy tray he had left. “I’m a little surprised, not everyone finishes their food here. Can’t really blame them though, hospital food’s always a little rough.”

“Yeah… I used to visit my mom in the hospital a lot, so I pretty much lived off of it for a while.” he sighed, shifting under the covers only to wince and whine in pain from the burns on his chest.

(Y/n) quickly moved the table aside and stood over him, gently moving his hands away as he clutched his chest.

“Here, let me go ahead and change out these bandages…” she plucked a new roll of bandages from the cabinet on the other side of the room and returned to him. She carefully helped him sit up straight and untied the front of his hospital gown.

Peter heard the heart monitor quickening and screamed at himself to calm the hell down and let the woman do her job. But damn, the way her fingers brushed over his skin as she took off his bandages had him fighting back the burning in his cheeks.

The sight of the burns on his chest were enough to knock his head out of the clouds and send him back to reality. (Y/n) held up a small tube of ointment, warning him that it would probably sting.

After getting a dollop on her fingertips she began gingerly massaging the medicine onto his burns. Sure enough Peter grunted in pain and held his bottom lip between his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut while (Y/n) worked.

“It’s best to let it all out… How about you keep talking, that’ll take your mind off it.” she suggested.

Peter nodded, racking his brain for something, anything to talk about.

“W-Whenever I got sick of the hospital food… m-my grama would being me something…” he said through his gritted teeth, continuing their conversation from earlier. “I think my fav-fuck… my favorite were these grilled cheeses she’d make… she’d always bring em by wrapped in foil… with some tomato soup in tupperware…”

(Y/n) wiped what was left of the ointment onto a tissue and began wrapping Peter’s chest, giving him a small smile. “Sounds like someone’s getting hungry again.”

Peter couldn’t help but chuckle as he breathed through the fading pain. He breathed a sigh of relief once she finished and laid back into the bed.

“Those should heal up in the next week… Hopefully applying that ointment won’t be as painful, it only gets easier from here.” (Y/n) said, her fingers working on retying his hospital gown.

“I’m kind of a baby when it comes to pain, sorry if I’m a little difficult.”

“No, no, it’s alright.” She assured him, gently rubbing his shoulder. “Don’t be afraid to let me know if you’re in any pain. I’m here to take care of you.”

The corners of Peter’s lips quirked up into a small smile and he gave her a slight nod. He sighed happily and laid his head back, relaxing into the bed once she left the room.

The rest of the week was basically the same routine; Peter would wake up, (Y/n) would bring him his meals, change his bandages, then he’d go to sleep. But in between all that Peter tried his best to make small talk with her, get to know her more.

He dropped that sneaky “Oh your boyfriend must be so proud” line the third day in. He almost jumped out of bed when she corrected him, saying she wasn’t dating anyone.

With the burns on his chest already healing he knew he’d be out of the hospital soon. He wasn’t too distraught, he could try to get (Y/n)’s number. Hell, screw “try” he was gonna do it.

His last afternoon in the hospital finally rolled around. His check out was scheduled for 3, it was currently 11.

She’s gonna bring me my lunch, Im gonna ask her for her number, it’ll be fine…

The door to his room opening put the biggest smile on his face, but it dropped once he saw a different nurse walk into the room with his tray of food.

“Good morning, Mr. Quill. How are we feeling today?”

“I… I’m good, is (Y/n) not here today?” Peter asked, looking behind the nurse to see if (Y/n) had trailed in after her.

The nurse frowned and shook her head. “No, I’m afraid she caught the flu from one of her other patients. She won’t be coming in today.”

Peter felt his heart drop out of his chest and into his stomach, along with all hope of ever going on a date with (Y/n).

“But,” she continued, setting the tray down on his table. “She did bring this by a little earlier… I’ll be right back to check on you when you’re done.” She smiled, turning and leaving the room.

Peter eagerly sat up and pulled the table closer, unboxing the food. He smiled wide, realizing what she had sent for him.

A grilled cheese wrapped in foil, and a glass pyrex bowl of tomato soup. A small, folded slip of paper sat between the two and he quickly unfolded it.

I’m willing to make a house call once I get over the flu. Call me.

Sure enough, the seven digits of her phone number along with a small heart sat under her message.

#peter quill #peter quill imagine #peter quill x reader #peter quill au #firefighter au #GotG #gotg fic #gotg imagine #gotg fanfiction #chris pratt

[minsuxga]

Anagapesis

(n.) No longer feeling any affection for someone you once loved; falling out of love.

Inspired by the quote:  “How selfhood begins with the walking away and love is proved in the letting go.”

Summary: Falling in love with Yoongi was easy. Watching him fall out of love with you was hard and there was only little you could do but hope that he found his way home after long nights of being away.

Genre: !Yoongi! + angst + fluff (i swear there’s a happy ending)

Word count: 12.7k 

A/N : Initially, I was really hesitant about posting this. Most of the story really taps into raw emotions and personal experience and if im honest, I put my soul into writing this. I really hope you guys like it. I’ve spent ages on this and i’m so sorry about my semi-hiatus turned hiatus but im back! Please, please, tell me how you guys feel about it! criticisms and comments are v much appreciated. 

You don’t realise.

Maybe you do. Yet, only fail to accept the gnawing pang in your heart that screams to be acknowledged; tucked down every time you force to assure yourself more often than not these days that he loves you, he had to love you – right?

You say you don’t realise but you do, you definitely do, when the morning rays hit the bedsheets and a soft warm glow fills the room and your heart still stings like something akin to how an ice burn would.

You notice with a miserable ache that the bed feels as cold to touch as his skin and the icy miles you’ve put between yourselves is unbearable but neither of you stretches arms to each other to break the iceberg in the middle that hovers in the air in all its apparency.

An iceberg like a constant reminder that there was something obviously wrong in this relationship. Something that neither of you would yield to yet lying to yourselves to say you didn’t notice, fearful of the prospect of what happened when you did.

And his skin, God, his skin was smooth like untouched snow and the warming sunrise hues melted his ivory skin that stained the sheets like ichor into puddles of perfection.

And he looked like a porcelain doll and you could count numbers like the strands of his dark hair sprawled like a fan on the pillows of reasons listing why you loved him, why you’d fallen in love with this man who’d given you nothing more than the infinity and murmured soft kisses into your neck under the witness of the stars and the watchful moon.

The man who had caressed your skin under the soft moonlight, under the gaze of Artemis and the reigns of her night sky that he’d be with you till the ends of the world and beyond.

Loving him was supposed to be infinite. Yet the assurance of infinity was fragile and fell from the safety of your fingers like glass. A clumsy mistake. A hopeless desperation. Shards too sharp and painful to touch and only a longing stare to redo the past differently in its wake.

And here, laying together but not fully together you realised with a daunting recognition that this infinity that you’d proclaimed with naïve hopes and dreams was finite and finishing.

The seeds of a blooming relationship that you had once possessed had seeped into the earth. A connection that had seemed as impossible to break and decipher as the roots of noble trees, giant in age and true in their confidentiality was only the waterlogged earth gulping for breath at your feet.

And as much as you had hoped that your connection would remain as vibrant and prosperous like the first time it had taken to flourish, it was feeble against the change of seasons where flourished flowers kneeled before time and were helpless into becoming decaying ones.

You chastised yourself at the same clueless optimism that you had used to believe that this intimacy, this tenderness that was supposed to be stronger than its fragile appearance would breed life into the darkness of the earth and turn greyish leaves into burning red ones.

Golden speckled like embers and suffer forged and furious, resembling the autumn months did you believe that your love willed anger into a drive for its survival.

You were blind-eyed and walking in a fantasy that was as childlike as your want for the past.

In reality, love was weak and resembled more like the sand that slipped between your fingertips and seemed too far spread to collect, to piece back together like the small world you’d held in the palm of your hands for so long – till now.

For now you could only hang onto each of his words because your relationship to you was like a story. You’d come to the last few sentences and your heart tugged at the thought that you’d one day have to place your eyes on a final single word and a full stop to end whatever this was and close the book despite your stubbornness to stare at it forever.

And you stared at his back as the morning hues took a dullish turn and your monochrome bedroom resembled the dark turn of your life and the never-ending routine you would have to subject yourself to once more – one more day again and again till months passed and one more day was only a reminder that it would eventually only be one more day.

Laying here in the early break of dawn, his body tired out from the hours spent at the studio, you continued to stare at his back, vast as the oceans between you and thought about how he seemed too far away on the bed to be even considered to be sleeping with you.

Staring at his back, as cold and distant to you as the frosty evenings and conversations, you yearned for the memories where he’d turn around, like a sixth sense tingling in his sleep as if he’d known that you were staring and grumble to ask why you were awake and cross the mountains of pillows to pull you under his chin and drowsily tell you to go to sleep.

However, this time like most days, you were met with a still silence and an acknowledgment that those were memories – and memories were things of the past.

So here in your present, Yoongi the best present life had given you, you crossed the mountains of pillows today instead, a bold move and an even more labouring task that caused a quickening of your breath and a rapid thud at your heart against your ribs and you pulled yourself to rest your head in the nook of his spine knowing that he wouldn’t move and in the next hours you’d find yourself miles apart again and tried to assure yourself that nothing was wrong and that everything was okay like it had always been and this time you tried to pretend like he was telling you to go to sleep like he always did.

And you just wanted to sleep not to take solace in slumber but simply because you wanted to live in the land of dreams and fairy tales because you were simply too afraid to wake up and try your hand at another day of avoiding the problems that were becoming far too apparent to be ignored. You were too afraid to come to the terms with the fact that nothing was okay-

That nothing had been okay between you two in a very long time.

And in this present, lying next to him, you only sought to find sleep in the comfort of your lies and pretence and could only hope that you would wake up the day you didn’t need to anymore.

When you met him, he was a man that lacked in words.

Yet, his unwillingness to talk to you was enough to get you intrigued, entranced by the old soulful eyes that took you on journeys and held enough conversations that let you pry into the intimates of his life even without him opening his mouth.

And you travelled his little world in the few seconds you glanced into his brown eyes and you were left with a thirst, a desperation, a want needed to be quenched to see more, to know more.

And his silence and his stubbornness to take a foot forward towards you was the lack of a welcoming hand despite your persisting attempts to be patient and determined even when he wasn’t.

At first, he tried his very best to wave off your irritating attempts in getting to know him, tried to stop you from pursuing your efforts of reading into his story, prying open every cobwebbed page rotting away with years of feelings untouched and forgotten, suppressed into little lines and far too great a book.

You, however, were vibrant as the world that existed around him, a world that had lost his touch and seemed far too distant and tasteless.

And the world, this world he’d once wanted nothing more to do with was grey and monochrome yet your smile breathed light and colour into the ends of the earth that made him want to explore it again to see just what it was that could make you shine so brilliantly- god, he wanted to see it too.

You were bright, you were warm and homey and everything he needed to feel at home again. You were everything he wasn’t and so you moulded into the figures and curves of his body with perfection and your smile and your giddy laughter was contagious and he understood.

God, standing with you he understood that there were somethings in life that could make you too happy to explain.

He understood only by kissing you, on the same lips you used to smile as if the earth was star speckled and coated in fairy dust and magic- that this was what made you shine so brilliantly.

And he understood and more often than not, he’d find himself forgetting who he was, who he was supposed to be and letting himself delve into the little wonders of life that were you.

Together, you bred life into his little storybook. You named every character and held his hand and went over the fading ink so that it was new again and where once even smiling your way and any sort of contact or brief communication was something far too great a distance for him to fathom – he’d found himself miles away from where he’d started, travelled the distance and voyaged every corner of the world by the end of every sitting with you – creeping closer and closer to a territory that Yoongi would have easily expanded on the same earth he’d once found tiresome to share with you.

When in love, what time was there to think about technicalities?

 With Yoongi, there was a lot of things you’d found yourself having to become accustomed to.

You’d found yourself accustomed to the door and every one of its dents. You had stared at every stain with a straining sigh and a soft shake of your head.

You’d found yourself noticing the way the hinges had started to come of the door handle, time worn on the metal as a reminder that you’d been doing this for too long- waiting into the dead of the night for him to enter the door despite your knowing that this was another one of those days where he’d lay his head down and find sleep in the discomfort of his studio chair.

You’d found yourself accustomed to the repetitive routine of repeated events, accustomed to staring at the steam blow off the hot plated dinner into the vacancy of the room to keep you company before the stumbling footsteps at the door once you’d thrown most of it into the trash.

You’d become accustomed to the apologies murmured into the crook of your neck and the arms tight around your waist to yield your disappointment into understanding and you had become old and aged at the empty promises he’d leave on your skin and down your body of a fancy dinner the next night.

It's the same cold, cold night where he’d leave you dressed only to cancel, leaving your hopes and dreams at the foot of the doorstep, not so brave to leave the home and unwavering against the apology texts and more promises of next time that have snaked into an anxiety that pleads him not to because you’re sick of hoping to be anything but disappointed.

You had become accustomed to shaking your head and assuring yourself that his lack of time for you was okay because his work was unpredictable in the way that his actions weren’t.

But you are accustomed to it- you’re used to it. You’ve adapted and learned to change your ways to fit around your emotions because that’s what you’ve been born to do. Born to change and adapt and survive. You’ll make it survive.

So it doesn’t bother you. Despite the fact that everything in your heart yells at you in foolery, in a desperation to be acknowledged that it most certainly does.

And the days move on and dates on the calendar continue unstopping until the summer months welcome the winter ones until they yield their great leaves in surrender, bow their fiery colours for cold ones and take arms to a change inevitable and happening.

You watch the world embrace the frost and the edge of a softening glaze of white and silver and you listen as the sounds of happy summer children turn into carols that light up the sky in a brilliance that is as bright as the fairy lights that follow it.

You remain in your still world, watching the world change, adapt, repeat its cycle from the moment you feel the glaring heat on your flesh. Sweat wet against your skin changing to the soft snow beneath your fingertips, white as far as you could see and resembling the uncertainty of your future, bleaching your relationship in a single colour that made you nostalgic for the colours it couldn’t fathom any more.

And days turn into months and the world doesn’t stop for you despite your longing for it to wait- in a hope that one day you’ll catch up, stop stumbling like a shadow behind it and grip onto anything despite your dizzying fatigue because you simply couldn’t. You couldn’t adapt. You couldn’t change.

You couldn’t yield to a normality with Yoongi that was simply too bleak and dull in comparison once he’d shown you all the colours in the world.

How could you get used to the simplicity of a single thing when you’d felt it all?

It’s a familiar darkening night, the only difference being the change in the moon and the position of the blinking stars that watched on the repetition of the world under it.

The same darkening night, one that’s ripped away the warmth and sea of pinks and red and gold, distinguished the inferno that spread across the horizons and set the world ablaze into an emptiness, a dark aftermath that was nothing less of a still silence that rocked the earth.

And the stars, the stars were the only evidence that it had ever happened. Resting above heads and easily overlooked, the stars were the witness, the fall-out of the flames, now scattered like soft embers into the stillness of the onyx sky.

And it’s during these very nights that you begin to notice the way his apologies slowly start to disappear, how they meld into a mutual acceptance of how certain things will be in a fixture too permanent for either of you to change.

You begin to notice how his kisses have faded into mere imprints, sunk deep into the skin for you to rack your brain in remembrance of what they felt like when they were still fresh on the surface. You notice the lack of limbs around your body, his body etching further and further away on the bed until you’ve settled into a distance that you fear to cross.

You notice the vacancy of his voice in the room- how even in the morning with the vibrant sun, the house makes you shiver in something other than just the cold, lacking in his warming laugh and your giddy happiness, of days where you’d move across the kitchen in a choreography only the two of you could dance in.

Now, you feel like a phantom in your own home, gliding with a heavy heart as if searching the place in a desperation for memories. And Yoongi, Yoongi couldn’t even be called a ghost. His presence so void from the home that he was anything but the occupant that haunted it.

It’s one of those nights, emotions of something akin to loss mingling with the emptiness of the home and it’s suffocating silence, you continue to the stare at the door with the same naïve hope and foolish optimism that he’d be back soon- that he’d take his seat in the chair that almost stared back at you with a pity you couldn’t help but wallow in.

And the silence that followed you as you sighed, the screeching of your chair being the only sound to accompany you as you discarded the remains of your dinner reminded you of the things you’d long noticed and long since avoided, remaining mum about the paranoia’s that had settled in your chest and had crept into the little crevices of your body.

And you continued to think, grabbing a blanket from your room and treading back towards the couch to lower yourself, pulling the soft fabric under your chest as if to cocoon you, to fight away the stupid, stupid feelings of loss- what were you loosing? And still staring at the door in a sadness that wasn’t necessarily directed at anything but the goddamn door.

Time seemed to tick on and fatigue had long since settled into your temples and you fought to keep your eyes open, shaking off the way they draped over your eyes in a darkness you could lull yourself to sleep to but there was a yearning, a need for him to prove himself different today, to be awake when he did.

But the time didn’t slow and the creeping anxiety finding comfort inside you was enough to tell you that some things were bound to break no matter how hard you tried to preserve it.

And it was almost two and your back hurt from finding solace in the couch, tucking yourself into the plush material in the hopes that you could close your eyes and find the same magic, the same comfort that it used to.

You were desperate for some sort of normality, for it to just go back to the way it used to be but this house was full of memories and the man who lived in it a mere stranger.

And it hurt, broke your heart to think that the promises of the world and forever, of an endless love and an unconditional fairy tale was nothing more than a storybook, a fiction and a tale that would never be.

When had the title to claim the love of your life simply become a title with no claim? And you wondered, pondered under the night sky and the blinking stars in the hopes that it would qualm your distress.

In the hopes that it would offer you advice for the man that jumped at the opportunity to travel to the ends of the world and beyond for you- had beyond become too tiresome for him to continue?

And it was on the couch when you heard the keys click and the door creak open, heard him sigh and kick off his shoes and you only listened as he pattered through the home, his eyes merely resting on yours before passing you without even the word of acknowledgement, no reprimanding that you shouldn’t stay awake, no kiss on the forehead, no promise, nothing- nothing but the stillness and suffocation of a silence that said more than the words he lacked in wording to you.

You waited, waiting long before he’d retreated back into your bedroom without you till you broke down, till you made memories of a teary night on the couch that once held a history of a love story for the ages.

And you sobbed into the night, the twinkling stars staring at you with sympathy you didn’t want and you heaved, weeping sorrowfully because Min Yoongi was too far now and things weren’t the same.

You cried because he was your best friend, the person you confided in. Yet in your difficulties today, you were no one to him to weep your worries to.

And you cried, cried till your eyes were heavy with tears and sleep and everything in between and your woes fell deaf to his ears because behind closed doors, Yoongi slept and found solace in the world without you.

You weren’t losing Yoongi. How could you lose something you’d already lost? How could you preserve something that had long since been broken?

In time, you’d simply force yourself to adapt to the constant changes that were Yoongi and his attitude towards you. You’d stopped questioning the way things were and why there were and simply accepted the reality that things weren’t the same and ultimately, would never be again.

The emotion you’d tried so hard to suppress, the growing fear that you’d tried to stifle, tried breaking apart was resurfacing. In the end, behind closed doors and hidden frowns there was the undeniable reality that had you shaking your head, spending moments in front of the mirror to deny in order to drown down your anxiety.

There was the simplicity of a few words that weighed down your heart like the many- a few words that you’d forced yourself to look away from but there was no denying the undeniable, a reality so very real and despite it being deep as the bergs that bred in secrecy- it was like the smoke of a fire you couldn’t hide- one you couldn’t run from.

A simple truth, an inevitable happening: he had fallen out of love with you.

In the end, the truth congregated- gathered like clouds and came for you on dark nights and even darker days. Even the sunshine couldn’t act as a veneer anymore to the change that was inevitable like the sun setting above the horizons and the night appearing, night after night without fail.

You could regret, regret the days you’d taken with him for granted or regret the way things had become. You could long all you wanted for a world painted in colours once you couldn’t fathom them anymore.

Despite the world seemingly mostly black and white these days, your relationship with Yoongi unspoken and dulled down- there was a regret that burned deep inside you, clenched within your core because outside your dreary days is a world that moves spontaneously.

It pains you, to watch Yoongi belong to that world of colours and ignore that everything wasn’t okay. It pains you after seeing, after feeling all those colours, to be told to settle for shades of grey.

And when you wake up in the morning you aren’t surprised that the bed is completely cold and you don’t need to turn away from the ceiling to know that Yoongi’s already left and there’s not a single memo that could have reminded you that he was ever here to begin with.

Achingly, you force yourself up, running your hands over your face and sighing into the emptiness of the room before removing the covers off your body and readying yourself for another day filled with mundane tasks in a silent home filled with your conundrum of thoughts.

You almost dread how you’ve been given the day off work, a soft pat on the back from your boss who claimed you’d been overworking yourself and should take the day off.

However, looking around the house you wish almost longingly that you were back in the security of your workplace, distracting yourself amongst the papers and co-workers. Anything but here. Anywhere but the place that day by day felt less and less like home.

You sighed into your coffee mug, staring into the same kitchen that would be bumbling with noise had it been a few months back; Yoongi making his way over to peck your forehead, your temple, anything, everything, on the days he’d lie in and take comfort in the curves of your body instead but it’d been months and his habits had faded away and you felt stupid standing there making food for two because yours hadn’t yet.

“I should take him some.” You say to yourself, your fingers fumbling around the containers as you try to reassure yourself that this way okay, that you always used to bring him food and surprise him at the studio because he loved it. Why would it be any different now? “He probably hasn’t eaten.”

And despite having everything changed, if there was one thing about Yoongi and his personality was his forgetfulness and how caught up he’d get in his work to forget the simple necessities he needed like eating.

Any other day you might have texted him but this wasn’t like any other days and your phone was as void as ever in a silence he seemed adamant to maintain.

You were aware that you were talking to yourself, almost chanting the words as if they would ease the fear of doing this trivial gesture that should feel like nothing to you but do. You hoped that this, this could be taking the first steps to at least try and salvage the bits of your relationship while you could. You hoped maybe this would be the start of a new beginning, maybe he’d come back to you. Maybe.

And you don’t know what possesses you, what takes over you but your standing in front of his studio with a bag filled with all his favourite foods.

You can’t help but feel childish, like this wasn’t something you should be doing but here you were, a foot away from his studio door with an irrational fear of what would happen when you entered.

You almost felt like you were suffocating. Here, entering a room with a man that was practically a stranger to you now with an emotion that felt too much like the end. In hindsight, you could have said you’d known, that you’d felt it coming and maybe it was for the best but in that very moment, after months of uncertainty, you were firm in believing that today would be different.

After all, something had to break to allow change; whether that be you or your relationship.

With a heavy heart and a shuddering sigh, you closed your eyes and reached to turn the handle to the door that you knew all too well, spending far too many nights crashed on the couch when Yoongi overworked into the night or listening to the unfinished music fill the room- basking in the security that was simply your boyfriend.

This time, the door creaked and groaned under your touch and the magic that you’d always felt in this room that was all too Yoongi were lost and you stared at his back, you were always staring at his back, watching him get further and further away from you.

His face was scrunched up in the way you knew was utter concentration, his headphones around his neck and staring into his lyrics completely and utterly oblivious to the world around him.

Suddenly, you weren’t so sure of yourself anymore and the confidence you had to salvage the remnants of a dying relationship had withered away.

It struck you just how much you didn’t belong in this world, how much he’d pushed you away and just how much distance had grown between you that the few feet that separated the two of you now couldn’t compare in comparison.

The studio had been a place that you had associated with fond memories, yet standing in the middle of it all with not so fond feelings stirring inside your belly made you realise the sheer emptiness of it all; that everything was simply a reminder and there was nothing you could do that would change that.

You felt like you were staring at a picture.

You could remember every feeling, every laughter that you’d felt captured into a single moment adorned with great smiles and even greater emotions but standing here in the aftermath of memories cemented how you couldn’t recreate pictures.

No matter how long you stared at it, it was just a remnant of a single past moment amongst the countless of many futures.

You coughed. He turned. And you watched his brow furrow, staring at your figure in confusion as if he couldn’t comprehend why you were here.

“What are you doing here?” and his voice is void of its usual pleasant surprise and it cements just how much has changed between you and though you expected every bit of it, it doesn’t stop your heart from dropping. He sounded exasperated, tired.

He’s tired of you, a little voice in your head said and you couldn’t lie and say you didn’t know but unlike Yoongi, you weren’t tired of him and this was your last attempt, your little act of selfishness- holding onto him because you wanted to slow down the moment you had to let go.

“I brought food.” You said softly, stating the obvious and pulling up the contents in your hand to show him the bag filled with all the delicious meals that only makes your stomach churn but your particular response isn’t the answer to the question he’s looking for.

Here, staring back at a stranger it’s obvious that you don’t know this man and his brown orbs scream nothing but unfamiliarity to you now- he was asking why you were here. His real question left unasked in the air but one you could read with ease. Why were you still trying?

“Oh,” Yoongi says and he’s looking anywhere but at you when you leave it on his side. “Thanks.”

Was that it? Was he supposed to say something? Were you? But you know it’s your cue to leave when he doesn’t say anything else, when he doesn’t acknowledge you and doesn’t ask you to stay but instead moves to put his headphones back on.

You wonder then, just when did your relationship result in this? Just when did his warm affections become nothing more than cold glances and you can’t help but stare at him with a longing in your chest, a desire to stomp on all the floors and pull a tantrum because you just want to go back, you just want him to love.

You wanted him to look at you, come back with the same vibrant smile you were used to.

You wanted him to love you but fuck, did he even know what loving you was when you were sure he’d fallen out of it?

You stared at his back. You hated staring at his back.

You hated how closed off he’d become, how your attempts at trying to rekindle your relationship bounced off the same goddamn back. You didn’t even realise you were crying, hot tears forging paths down your warm cheeks. Ironic because he’d done nothing but make you feel cold all these months.

And from the way his body stiffens when a sob breaks from your chest and fills the room, from the way he stops himself from looking at you, a deep sigh resounding against your harsh breaths as if he knew it was coming, you know he’s heard.

“Look at me.” You sob angrily, a fierce fire bubbling in your stomach because enough was enough. Because you couldn’t keep pretending, couldn’t keep ignoring.

You couldn’t do this to yourself. You couldn’t continue to live unhappily because you were trying to save something that didn’t want to be saved. “Just this once, look at me.”

And he does and there’s enough emotion in Yoongi’s own eyes for you to know that this is it, that there was no going back from this.

It almost surprises you though, when you see a deep sadness coat over his orbs, a pain present and upfront and inevitable. Even if he didn’t love you now, he had once and letting you go meant letting go of all your memories; of all the things he’d fallen for and all the things he’d adored.

Letting you go was like burning a photobook of a life he’d long since outlived and grown out of. The only reason he’d kept on so long was because of the little attachment he had left, because you had been there when the days and years moved on and when the summer months welcomed the winter ones.

You were there on the same nights, listening with him when the sounds of happy summer children turned into carols that lit up the sky in a brilliance that was as bright as the fairy lights that followed it. You were there, with him, under the same sky that had witnessed it all. The same sky that could retell your history like the stars it had unfolded beneath.

Letting you go was like burning a photobook of a life he’d long since outlived and grown out of but him damned, he didn’t want to let you go because he was scared to make a new one.

“I’m so sick of this.” You cried, gesturing to the space between you and him. “Who are we fooling? Ourselves?”

And you didn’t need an answer and Yoongi only soaked in your appearance, tear-stricken and racking horribly. Your big sparkling eyes had been dulled down with the tears he had caused you, a fire dancing across the softs of your cheeks in a way he knew was only anger, disappointment.

And he hated it. He wished he could take you in his arms and mumble away your woes but he didn’t love you in the way he had and he felt so guilty for falling out of love with someone who’d taught him what love was.

He hated how he was the one who had been the one to suffocate your relationship even after multiple tries when you were the one that had breathed life into his mundane world.

“We don’t even look at each other anymore.” You whispered and he hated how fragile you looked, how the strongest woman he knew crumbled in a state that was as sad as this. And you hated it yourself, hated yourself for succumbing to this. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending that everything’s okay when we both know it isn’t. It’s just not fair.”

“If I went wrong, if something happened, just tell me. Just tell me how we can fix this” You sobbed desperately and this was it, this was the last and you knew all too well that you couldn’t fix anything and there was nothing you’d done wrong.

Now, here, in that moment, you drank Yoongi in like it was the last time you’d ever be intoxicated.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, because he was sorry and he’d forever be sorry and there was nothing he could do now. Even then he could hardly get himself to look at you.

Despite anticipating his words with every ounce of salt in your body, every hope crushed the moment you’d first walked in through door, it did nothing to ease your pounding heart and you couldn’t stop it when your lip quivered and you had to just stand there embracing yourself when the onslaught of tears came flooding in.

You didn’t know how long you had stood there but it was enough time for you to realise that there was nothing more either of you could say now.

After months of beating around the bush, you’d finally addressed the elephant in the room, finally cut through the tension that had built up in your home and scouted the replies to questions you already knew the answers to.

You and Yoongi were breaking up. After years together, you’d continue apart like individual people on individual paths.

“I’m sorry too,” You said once you’d composed yourself. You were sorry because you hadn’t tried hard enough or maybe because you had longed this out for far too long. You were sorry because you couldn’t keep all the promises you made to him, that he couldn’t keep his.

Sorry because after months of silence where you’d spent endless nights going over what you’d say to him and then finally arriving here- you’d said nothing. Because there was nothing.

Because more was said in the unsaid.

Because he didn’t have to say any more for you to know because you couldn’t scream and cry when it’d been coming and it was more of a matter of when you ended it than how you’d amend it.

You don’t linger much after that, stay only a few more moments to soak in his milky skin, his pretty brown eyes that searched anywhere but yours, his dark hair before turning to walk out of the door with a greater purpose than when you had entered it.

You’d missed the way Yoongi opened his mouth to say something, how his stomach churned at the sight of your food and despite having turned back to his music, there was nothing he could focus on more than you.

He should have been happy. He should have been relieved but his heart feels heavier than ever and he regretted that he couldn’t stare at you enough, his first love, before you disappeared in an air colder than the one he’d given you.

He was a coward but he regrets how he can’t even cower in his emotions before you. A woman made of fire and ice and everything in between.

It doesn’t take you long to gather your stuff.

It doesn’t take you long to collect all the pieces in your- his home. Bundling up all the things that were you and yours before leaving the house in a manner that resembled the state before you’d met him, back when your shirts hadn’t started appearing in his drawers, when your toothbrush wasn’t placed next to his and back when the webs of his life weren’t entwined with yours.

And you can’t help but stare at this sad, sad place that you’d once called home; can’t help but trace over the furniture that had kept you company in months of solitude, accompanied you through bursts of tears and anger and though they might not remember it now, even times of great love and adoration that had once brightened your world in a comparison that could make even the sun yield.

You were quick on your feet, gathering with haste and dread and everything falls apart in your arms but you’re adamant on holding yourself together while you can, stubborn in forcing yourself to be level-headed because you didn’t want to be here when Yoongi got here.

His studio had been your last goodbye and there was no time for treacly sentiments if he came back and encountered you. Knowing him, he’d probably spend the night there anyway, his practice in avoiding you almost an art now. There would be no mistakes, no sentiments.

No weeping would change facts and your feelings despite heavy on your chest and though it felt like the world was falling apart, they were small, insignificant; minuscule against the vastness of the universe that you were nothing against.

Your existence was a speck of dust, your feelings yours and yours alone- one you couldn’t share, one you couldn’t voice.

A pain that was so very individual, so very yours that in the haste to grip onto your things, you’d dropped the strength that had held onto your emotions, unchained them, released an intensity that was wild, untameable.

The realisation of just how alone you were hit you so intensely that you could feel it burn in your core, a desire to rip out your insides and plead them to obey, to reason, please.

But feelings were wild, untameable and they were products of the heart and no matter how many times your mind concluded logically that this would pass, all things do, your heart felt like it was in pieces within your chest and God, you would do anything to make yourself feel whole again.

They’d never told you that love could hurt so hard, that the aftermath of love was just as intense as falling.

No one, no one could teach you heartbreak in the way you’d learn from experience. No one could teach you the magic of falling in love, the vulnerability, the passion, the intensity that could rival a flame and was as magical as the Garden of Eden, with every emotion as vast as the number of flowers that were adorned in it.

No one could teach you loneliness until the veneer that had shrouded your sorrows in a pink cloud of love had washed away in wisps of grey that magic was fleeting and love was as deceiving as the thorns that tempted naïve seekers. An attempt to grasp beauty, a futile venture to seek Eudaimonia.

The aftermath of love was one that was as bitter as it was sweet and the remnants made you feel empty, hollow and as vacant as the world you surrounded yourself in; especially when you hadn’t come out of love and only witnessed the dark truth and a cruelty of what happened when someone else did.

You were falling apart.

Your breath ragged and harsh and this house screamed finality. Vacant-looking and cold.

This would be the last time you stepped foot into this house, the last time you breathed into it, bred life into it and you didn’t know if the attachment was to the love couch in the middle of the room or the love you’d made on that couch that made you less wanting to let it go, to leave.

You were severing ties with things you’d familiarised yourself with, severing ties with years, severing ties with attachment- severing ties with Yoongi.

It would be the last time you would see Yoongi.

You wondered where love went when it died and almost laughed at yourself, a bubble of lacking laughter flittering in your chest because you were going to the same graveyard to be tucked in the very same coffin.

Who cared where love went when it died? Wherever it went, you were going too.

You couldn’t say that you were happy.

What was happiness if not momentary? But in hindsight, it was easy to see that the choice that he made, the choice that you made was something that allowed you to be happier.

It was a privilege, a liberty that was allowed to you after suffering for so long. It was an emotion so foreign, so invasive that you didn’t know when enough time had passed that you’d allowed it to crawl, travelling through blind spots and breaching apparent sight into the cracks that needed filling.

In time, you’d learn that memories made after him were memories as precious as they were with him and you didn’t need to feel guilty, gnawing on days that maybe, maybe, somewhere he’d made a mistake he’d come running to amend.

Gone were the days were you wallowed in self-pity, in self-hatred and clung onto your insecurities with the idea that they were the only things you were allowed to keep.

Now, your chest felt lighter, breathing was easy and the concept of feeling better after time had done its work on you, after hours turned into days and days into months into years- that this emotion wasn’t a foe but a friend come after long nights was a concept befriended.

Your try at being somewhat happy was overdue and though brief as all moments are, it was something that made you think that maybe the wait was worth it.

It wasn’t as if breaking up with him had meant a break up with love either. His absence didn’t scare you from the emotion and neither did its scars frighten you from approaching it time and time again.

You knew love in more forms than he had given to you and you didn’t need his to know, didn’t need his love in a dependency that was unhealthy and poisoning to know that even in the absence of receiving, you could give in abundance.

You gave it in the affection you had for your parents. You felt it in the adoration you had for the sky, the ground, your home and your cat and your work.

You knew love in the smiles of grinning faces, you knew love in the air around you and in the breaths you took throughout the day- platonic, materialistic, familial- you knew love because you’d been around it. It was a shame then that he simply hadn’t been in it with you.

It had been two years since you’d broken up with Yoongi.

Two years since you’d stormed out the home that the two of you had shared and found solace at your best friend’s house, sobbing well into her shoulder and allowing her to hold you, being the little stability that you needed, a pillar on whom you could rely on when your walls fell.

Two years since you’d asked her to pick up the last of your things, instructing her to leave the keys on the kitchen counter when she did and then residing with her until you could find your own place, gradually filling up the vacancy of your new apartment with things that were you and you alone.

Two years since you’d quit your job, tired of the mundane tasks, of the repetitive nature of days crouched over the computer, nodding insincerely at scoldings only to repeat the same things months on end in the room that resembled a prison cell.

Sick of routine, you take up spontaneity.

Grinning when you capture pictures that reflect the freedom in nature, stories behind old eyes and beaming smiles. Days are spent travelling, from wedding to wedding, tomorrow the lake, the day after the sea.

You voyaged from people to people, capturing the essence of one’s world into another’s.

You weren’t happy, who really was? But your life was happier and the air around you was softer, the colours in your home bright as if to aluminate the days you stay in bed, staring hours on end at the ceiling unable to find your path and lost as to where to go.

Two years since you’d pieced your world back together, gluing edge to edge with nothing but time on your hands and as if to apologise for your sorrows, the world was patient and allowed you to steady yourself again, allowed you the years, allowed you to grow and gain and change and learn.

You learned.

You learned with time that you were better than what you had accustomed yourself to, better than the long nights and dark days and better than what you’d been given and so you were allowed to go and demand more.

Two years was a long time and in that time, though you hadn’t forgotten Yoongi’s face or his solemn touch and his gummy smile, you’d learned that you were simply better without it.

You hadn’t had any awkward encounters and you avoid all the places you visited together, avoided the area around your old home and not once did he reach out and not once did you but the fondness in your heart was still present and despite everything, you couldn’t help but think that he still had always been the best for you.

Your first in many things and last in others, with Yoongi moments were countless but it had been two years and your heart didn’t ache at his name.

Your eyes could wash over his pictures in fondness over spite and despite it being two years and despite you having made your peace with your breakup, you couldn’t squash down the little bittersweet nostalgia and the acknowledgement that no matter how many dates you went on, how many people you met, there was a part of you that only ever wanted to love him.

A part of you that only ever wanted to be loved by him.

And here you were, years later, the woman you had always aspired to be. A woman that knew no chains and felt emancipation like the wind between the locks of your hair.

Frenzied, ungovernable and every bit free, you were achieving the world, beyond the promises he couldn’t keep to you. A woman who amounted to nothing less than the universe with a presence that demanded attention yet there was the void somewhere in your chest that you had suppressed over the years that demanded greater caring, a filling that was Yoongi shaped and unforgiving.

You could pretend that you’d moved on completely, could pretend that his name didn’t make your heart sigh in contempt, lost in worlds of what ifs and what could have been.

You could pretend that even years down the line he had no effect on you, pretend that silent moments sat on the sofa watching reruns of your favourite show didn’t sometimes lead to moments with him.

You could pretend that you didn’t still call into your apartment to inform whoever you were home despite there being no one there, pretend that buildings like the dingy café around the corner where’d you first met didn’t remind you of him.

You could pretend a lot of things but you’d be a fool to think that you were anything more than an actor. Actors pretended and what you felt didn’t feel like pretence.

You weren’t holding onto fragments, weren’t cradling them to your chest in an unwillingness to let go. You simply couldn’t delete the effects he’d on you, the changes you’d made as a result of being with him.

You simply couldn’t scare away the phantom that had been your first love and had learned as a result to live with him rather than hiding from him.

Time hadn’t made you forget. It had made it bearable. And though absence had made your heart grow fonder, history was a reminder that things of the past couldn’t be erased.

When you wake up, you simply can’t pin the bubble in your stomach and the soft jitters in your chest to a particular emotion. You can’t place word to face but there is something in the air that screams nostalgia.

All the daily norms that present themselves in the way the light bounces of the walls, how the house feels refreshingly warm and your cat lazy slings between your legs in her morning greetings seems nothing if not odd.

And you don’t know why you do and in hindsight you could blame it on the odd feelings that stir within your chest in a restless agitation to want pleased that you find yourself staring at the old coffee shop that you’d first met Yoongi with a little more than just longing.

You’d spent two years walking past it, never offering it more than a measly glance and a fond smile but there was something almost magnetic, appealing about the store in all its old and dinginess that has you standing before it today.

That after two years of religiously avoiding the café did your heart ache wistfully at the sight in a want to relieve old memories and feel emotions as ablaze as the first time you’d entered it.

You wondered if the feelings you’d buried were still present in the little quaint building, abundant with importance or whether time had nulled its flames and your reach for familiarity had simply wandered away like all good things do.

The café despite its overall unappealing exterior had always been your favourite. You had looked past the falling sign and the uneven canopy and found solace in the grounded coffee scent and the little bakery tucked in the back, finding home in wooden seats and warmed beverage that presented you with comfort on winter days and summer nights.

It was your little secret that hid in the corner in the heart of the town, almost always empty and quiet and very often overlooked.

It was your treasure, the same place where’d you’d met him, finding shelter on a rainy day that soaked through your clothes and had you shivering.

It was the same place you’d locked gazes with him, albeit unfamiliar then but familiar with the dullness in his eyes that had you forcing your way through his walls and layers to extend a friendly hand out.

It was the very same place that had you returning back on dates, familiarising yourself with the seat next to the window and the menu and him until it was practically tradition to sit across from each other on casual nights spent talking aimlessly until it closed.

So returning after two years of being away made you feel apologetic, feeling as though you’d neglected the place in your want to avoid the pain that came with reminiscing and almost repentant in your actions as you stepped inside, knowing nothing had changed and there was still the same wooden tables and the same barrister at the front but still washing your eyes over to drink it all in and playback memories of times before things had changed.

You walked over to the front and smile at the barrister in acknowledgement, wondering if she remembered you and by the way her grin grew and she looked almost surprised you think maybe she does.

“Hi,” You breathed. Your stomach felt a lot better than this morning and it struck you after finding yourself here so abruptly, overwhelmed with familiar smells of pastries and coffees that your want for a beverage was only stronger than ever. “Can I have a-“

“I’ve got it.” She interrupted and a large smile played on her lips as you stared at her in mild amusement.

“How did you-?” You trailed off, wondering how she could possibly remember your order after all these years of being away. Sure you’d been a regular customer but the odds that she’d remember your usual was almost touching in a sense.

“Boss often said we’d lost our best customer,” She replied, a strong glint in her eyes as she busied herself in preparing your drink, her voice soft as she spoke to you. “We don’t get many people but you were here always here without fail so we thought you’d moved away.”

“I’m sorry,” You offer and you really are, this place was like home to you and you’d avoided it in the want to let the past be the past. “It’s been a busy few years.” You told her and it’s half a lie because you have been busy. You been busy in finding yourself, in getting to know yourself and live by yourself.

You’d been busy in getting to know the little liberties that had made you you before you’d known Yoongi- the ones you’d lost in loving him and though you were past the point in your life where you wallowed in self-misery and nostalgia, you’d simply been carried away.

“I can imagine.” She sighed, finishing off the lasts of your coffee before turning to you with a slighter sadder smile. “He still comes here, you know.”

And you know exactly who’s she’s talking about and you can’t help the way your heart leaps at the mention of him, at the thought that he still comes to the same place that was important to you as it was to him, sitting down in the same cosy spot right by the window to mull over his music after long nights of needed solitude.

“Often looks like he’s looking for someone as if any day will be different than the previous,“ She continues, knowing the look on your face and despite only being acquaintances through the cafe knowing more about your love story than the rest.

And when she turns to you, she’s grinning wider than ever, almost glad that of all days, today was the day you’d decided to show up. And she hands you your coffee before she speaks again, and you look down to realise that it’s exactly how you like it, creamy and milky as always and years could pass but your taste most definitely hasn’t.

“I think he can stop looking now.”

And you don’t have any time to really ponder on her last words as she thanks you again, shaking her head at your questioning smile before you turn around, automatically moving towards the area you know best when you see him.

And its been two years but your stomach does backflips and your chest heaves and for a second you forget how to breathe. Your throat feels as if it’ll clam up anytime soon but he looks more beautiful than the last time you’d laid eyes on him.

And he sits there, by the window with dark hair and even darker eyes that contrast greatly with his milky skin, staring out into the streets and sipping at his coffee with his face pulled in a characteristic you know all too well is to show that he’s thinking.

Two years is a long time and he looks slightly older, more mature and his hair hangs low and brushes against his eyes, more rings adorned on his fingers and there’s something about him that screams difference, stranger but has your heart soaring in familiarity because god, you were a liar if you thought that you weren’t still in love with him and seeing him did damage to your strengthened heart. Even now, you could stare at him forever.

And you don’t know whether it’s the stubbornness to sit in the same spot that you’ve always sat, unwilling to sit any place else or simply to talk to him, to hear his voice that gives you strength, holding onto your cup with a firmness that is new to you when it comes to him and marching over with a sense of purposefulness that even you can’t place.

“Is this seat taken?”

And his head whips to look at you with his eyes blown wide and his pink lips parted in disbelief. He could recognise your voice anywhere.

He doesn’t speak immediately, rather taking you in standing before him after years had done its work on you for a few moments. You offered him a small smile in encouragement and his stomach churned unpleasantly because you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid his eyes on.

You were standing there before him with a cup of coffee, your hair shorter, your smile wider and he hated that in your last few months of being together he had stolen that from you. He hated how he’d made you feel, hated the way his stomach churned in guilt, in regret every time he thought of you.

The way you stood only indicated independence, promise and you were strong and holding yourself together with a new profound confidence that left him speechless, repentant for the wonders that were you and the ungratefulness that was him in ever letting you get away.

He could sit there and drink you in, mumble apologises into your skin for the rest of his days and search for any indication in your brown orbs for a hope, any hope that you still loved him.

He could call out for you, reach out for your hand and bring you home, re-find the corners he loved best and re-explore and voyage across the pages in a story that was yours.

He wants to apologise, wants to tell you about the mistakes he made. He wants you to understand him in the way he didn’t understand him, retell his account of those last moments. He wants to tell you about the days where he struggled, the days where he didn’t, he wants to confide in you in the ways he did time ago because this, you had once been his best friend and his world.

The thought is almost dizzying and instead he replies with an even smaller smile that resembles a grimace before gesturing to the chair in front of him because there is time for that and one day he’ll let you know. “Not at all.” Never for you, he wants to reply.

And it almost gives him déjà vu of the first time you’d met, when you’d fought for the seat in front of him and he’d given a slight nod unknowing of the years fate had planned for the two of you, only these were different circumstances.

In a way, he thinks that maybe you are meeting again for the first time, two years was a long time and it was apparent, with the way you approached him with nothing but loose ties and fragmented memories that you were two different people.

And it’s almost painful to think that had it been a few years back you would have bumbled in with a smile radiant enough to make the sun look dull and you would plant a kiss to his lips and you two would sit there, sit here in the very same spot by the window, addicted to each other’s presence.

He had learnt a lot these past few years. From the moment he’d come home to find your things missing to the disappointed stare your friend had given him when she’d collected the last of your bits that somewhere along the lines he had gone wrong.

He hadn’t been wrong to fall out of love but wrong enough to realise that it was a mistake to fall out in love with you when all he wanted to do was bundle you into his arms at night, chat aimlessly on the days he was overridden with frustration and lost for inspiration.

He realised months on, when he’d fall asleep on his desk not wanting to go home because what was home if it wasn’t with you that he didn’t feel relieved, he didn’t feel less burdened without you but rather empty after years of feeling so full with love.

Heartbreak was not a one way street and it took him as much as time as it did you for things about you to stop bothering him and though he still searched for you in the café, always going in case of finding you, he figured you’d made your peace without him.

And if there was one thing he was grateful for, was that made you’d realised that he had never been good enough for you and he hadn’t valued you enough when you were worth more than anything in this universe.

No date he went gave him the same feeling, the same excitement and no music he made felt genuine enough but he’d realised that it was his short fallings that had cost him, something he’d learn to live with yet years on staring at your face, slightly more lined with age and maturity did he realise just how much had been at stake.

“So you still like your coffee black then?” You joked and you couldn’t help but feel relieved when you see a slight quirk of his lips as he stared at his cup sheepishly.

“Some things don’t change do they?” He shrugs before raising his own eyebrows at your cup that you pull towards your chest defensively, almost shocked at yourself when your laughter leaves your chest so genuinely.

“I guess they don’t, Min Yoongi.” You smile at him and he smiles back but there’s something odd in the air, something different about the way you hold and present yourself but it’s obvious with the way he stares at you and you right back at him that maybe there’s a little more than just your coffee that hasn’t changed.

“You look different,” He says finally and you can’t help but stare at him questioningly. Did he mean your appearance? “Better.” And the way he frowns slightly and his eyes avert from yours do you realise that he feels guilty.

You open your mouth to speak, ready to wave off his doubts. “I’m sorry,” and it surprises you when you both speak at the same time, laughing lightly at the interruption and ready to continue when he shakes his head at you.

“What could you be sorry about?” he says, looking at you regretfully. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have let it build up like that and I shouldn’t have let you leave like that either.”

You sighed, after so long of thinking about what you would say to him when the time came, you felt oddly empty. “I think maybe it was both our faults. None of us said anything. I think more than anything I was just scared of letting you go.”

“I was scared of letting you go too.” Yoongi whispered and you looked at him, encouraging him to go on because you needed your closure, you needed answers for a time where he’d refused to give you any. “I was being selfish.”

He looked at you then, eyes filled with raw emotion that are apologetic and gentle and has you choking up. “I just wanted you to be there even when I didn’t think I loved you anymore. Losing you was like losing my security so I avoided it and I’m just- I’m sorry we ever got to the point; for doing that to you.”

“You were my best friend.” You told him and he sighed audibly and it’s shaky but you march on relentlessly. “I would have understood if you had just talked to me. I hated that nothing was the same because I loved you more than anything. I would have ended everything in a heartbeat if it meant that you were happy, that we could still talk.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi tells you and this time it’s genuine and unlike the time where you’d stormed off and disappeared from his life.

“I’m sorry too,” You smile, shaking your head because you accept his apology and there were things that you had gone wrong in too. “I guess its better this way.” And you don’t want to say that because everything in your heart screams that you still love him, that you couldn’t really cope with anything but loving him and you could live with the fact that he didn’t love you back.

“Is it really?” He whispers, so softly that you almost miss it but you’re sure, you’re sure that he’s said it and maybe, maybe he does still love you and maybe these years were what you needed to make the heart grow fonder. These years are what you needed to grow, to realise your worth as individuals and your strength in being together.

And when you look at him now, he, his own person and you, your own, you’re not as insecure to think that he his your entire world and you are nothing without him.

And you take your time in speaking, take your time in conjuring an answer to fit to reply to him and when you do, he looks at you, patient and waiting and you offer him a smile and a reply that isn’t absolute but provides him with a hope that leaves a smile, a genuine smile lingering on his lips.

“I guess we’ll see.”

And you walk away from the coffee shop, glad you had entered it in the first place with a lighter chest and a blooming smile that makes even your friends question.

“I’ll see you later?” and the implication that you want to see him later, that you don’t want this to end but rather to start has him nodding fondly, glad that after years of searching for you again, he hasn’t found you but rather a new version that leaves him excited and just as eager as the first time you had met.

“I’ll see you later.” He promises, watching you twirl away with a light wave before catching the eye of the barrister who’s absolutely beaming from ear to ear.

A promise that is one absolute that he can definitely offer you.

The promise of later comes sooner than you expect. You find yourself in the coffee shop without fail every afternoon, a brighter step, a bigger grin and a world that wasn’t too large for you to fit into.

He was there too. And you’d end your day welcoming the barrister who’d have your order ready for you, maintaining small conversation before your eyes wandered away and you’d find him tucked away in the corner as if waiting for you.

You’d find yourself sitting in front of him, making up for lost time and re-establishing everything about each other, exploring and discovering and you realise that you had never fallen out of love and seeing the same thing that had once broken your heart reflected in his own orbs- you realise maybe he didn’t either and rather had wandered off lost where familiarity had bred contempt and absence had birthed love.

And it’s inevitable how you two fall in love again, slowly and just as deeply as the first time. He doesn’t promise you anything and there’s nothing guaranteed but the security you feel when he stares at you in wonder is overwhelming.

And you’re glad, glad that you aren’t bound by obligation and sentimental vows but rather in the very purity of simply wanting to be together.

“You took up photography?” Yoongi asks you when you’re huddled up in front of your laptop and camera over a cup of coffee, sighing at the countless images needed edited. You look up to find him staring at you curiously, his eyebrows slightly furrowed because he was discovering new things every day.

“I hated my old job.” You tell him after a long moment, bringing the drink to your lips before indulging in its sheer creaminess, watching him watch you as you hummed in content. “I was just forcing myself to do the same thing every day and so I quit and took up something I actually liked doing.”

“And I like this,” You smile, “I love taking pictures of nature, of people, of everything- every day is different, every person is different and it’s beautiful really, being able to capture every emotion into an instant.”

Like every art came freedom and with photography you had the autonomy to do what you liked and the world to do what you liked with it.

“Can I see some of your work?” Yoongi asks and you stare at him, searching his face only to find that he’s genuinely curious, genuinely interested in the things that you find passion in.

And you realise, not so much as daunting as you think, that you’re slowly letting him back in. what he asks is an innocent question but there’s a sense of intimacy, something almost invasive that makes you realise the extent of your closeness.

You remember days of when he’d ask you to come down to his studio, staring at you with anticipation as he let you listen to his music because it was important to him. By sharing his art he was allowing you to see glimpses of his life. He was allowing you to see his story in other means that were beyond just him.

You understand then, nodding your head in affirmative and watching in the same daunting anticipation as he scrolls through your photos. And he stares in awe, eyeing at the pictures as if he’s trying to gain memories of lost time and you understand then that you’re fine with this.

You are fine with letting him back in after years of being apart and it’s not so scary to realise that this is a start of a new journey in the same love story that in hindsight, never did really end.

Unbeknownst to you, staring at your pictures and seeing your drive in shaping your life to fit the mould that you wanted inspires him and when he returns to his studio that night, it’s your very passion that makes music come easy to him.

“You have a cat?” Yoongi questions, grimacing lightly as he steps into your household for the first time, taking a step further in your new established relationship by dropping you home when he sees that thing twirl between your legs and purr contently at your side when you nestle into the couch.

“Isn’t she pretty?” You ask back, grinning up at Yoongi who doesn’t take his eyes away from her. She hisses at him, scowling deeply when he tries to take a step forward and you laugh at the affronted look Yoongi gives her, offended that he wasn’t even allowed to come near you.

“She hates me.” Yoongi deadpans and you grin because watching both your cat warily eye Yoongi in the same way he eyes her back as if to challenge one another is absolutely beautiful.

Months later, it’s a sight to behold when you find Yoongi asleep on the couch, having given him a set of keys, to see the same feline snuggled up on his chest, purring away as if she hadn’t spent the afternoon snobbishly turning away from his affections.

You had done your growing, he had done him and it’s different. You’re different. And you find a greater independence in voicing your own concerns and holding your ground in moments of anger.

You’re allowed to take up space. You were not an inconvenience. And so when you and Yoongi argue, you don’t cradle emotions to your chest and hope for moments of fury to disperse, but rather yell and scream and cry until there’s an understanding that allows you to grow, to move on, to learn.

“I don’t like it.” You sighed, sitting at the edge of your bed after a long day of arguing. Yoongi pretending to be asleep. “I don’t like it when you sleep at your studio because I feel like you forget that I exist.”

And it doesn’t take him long before he bundles you up in his arms, kissing your forehead because the anger has disappeared into the air and there’s nothing less he wants to do but to argue with you.

“I don’t forget that you exist. I don’t want you to think that.” Yoongi reassures you and you stare up at his long eyelashes and he tucks a hair behind your ear. “I’ll try come home earlier.”

And these aren’t promises but he keeps them anyway and he can’t help but feel a burst of adoration when you two actually sit in front of each other at dinner, babbling away because he’s home early and your showing him your work and he breathes in your inspiration.

It doesn’t take you long to love him and rather you build your relationship in between cracks and corners and you piece them back together in an adaption that is refined and strong.

And so when he kisses you, taking your lips as if there were his own, you realise with him you are whole and there is no other than him you would love.

And when he makes love to you, after years of being apart, your soul drawn to his as if you were forged from the burning ends of the same stars and your souls star-crossed and inseparable, you realise that there is nothing better than him loving you.

“I love you,” Yoongi whispers to you and you turn back to him surprised, it had only been a few months since you had gotten back together and you knew that the idea of saying that you loved each other was a daunting prospect.

“You-“ You start off but can’t possibly end because he’s repeating it over and over onto your skin, lips mouthing the phrase into your lips, your neck, your chest.

“I love you so much,” and he means it, and wonders how he could possibly fall out of love from someone as beautiful of you and he assures you that everything he says is only the truth because he’d be damned if he ever let you get away again.

“Show me.”

And love was not infinite and emotions had ways of dying out but you and Yoongi had proved all ends and if soulmates existed, you were undoubtedly his. You had found yourselves inseparable by a bond that was as strong as you allowed it.

And after nights of living alone, separated from one another and adamant on change and tastes of different waters, he was certain that it was in between your legs, bundled into your arms and smiles was where he wanted to be.

You had started your selfhood by walking away, proved your love in the letting go.

You had finally found each other again after a long winter. Two hearts connected like one, sure of finding the homes to which they belonged.

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