#wired sugar rush au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

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part 3 of Escape Your Destiny (Star Wars Wangxian AU) - on ao3 or tumblr part 1, part 2

He had been right to reject seclusion, Lan Wangji thought grimly. The sweet siren call of calm contemplation had nearly seduced him, the Dark Side seeking to eat away at him through other means now that anger and hatred had not done the work – he would have meditated himself into a stupor, becoming little more than a vacuum within the Force, a black hole of deathly intent.

More than that, though, he would have missed – this.

This disaster.

Wei Wuxian’s lips were pale from blood loss and hypothermia. Two of his limbs were at odd angles, probably broken, and Lan Wangji feared that there were more like them beneath the body that was bruised like a tender peach – he had been shielding as many people as he could, Lan Wangji knew, because he knew his Wei Ying too well to think that he might have done anything else.

Lan Wangji still didn’t know all the details, what exactly had been the disaster or why Wei Wuxian’s starfighter had crashed when he knew (with painful recollection) exactly how good a pilot Wei Wuxian was, but it hadn’t really mattered. Xue Yang had rushed into his chamber shouting excitedly - not exactly a rare event - saying something about an alarm and a disaster and a crash and can I have one of these gadgets? possibly two, maybe, I’m thinking two but haven’t really committed yet, it’s a big decision you know, and Lan Wangji’s blood had run cold when he realized what alarm he was referencing.

(A proper Jedi would never have tagged the object of his affections like an endangered bird or a criminal, injecting the tracking chip so deep into bone and muscle that standard scans wouldn’t pick it up and even in-depth scans might register it as a naturally occurring aberration. A proper Jedi would think of such intimate surveillance as cruelty, dehumanization, the caging of a free bird –

A proper Jedi wouldn’t have known what happened.

A proper Jedi wouldn’t have been able to rush over at once, wouldn’t have been in time to retrieve the body from the wreckage, finding it still warm and breathing but swiftly fading into the Force.

A proper Jedi would have been worthless.)

“That looks pretty bad, Master,” Xue Yang said, the comm crackling in his ear, and for once his tone was almost solemn. Perhaps the lessons on empathy were working, following the introduction of the rancor Xue Yang had named Chengmei with an expression so pained and vicious that Lan Wangji had refrained from asking. Perhaps it was that he’d grown so obsessed with his pair of bounty hunters and their foundling assistant, a little not-blind Bothan girl who liked to mouth off at him. Or perhaps it was just something as simple as knowing that if Wei Wuxian were lost, Lan Wangji would have no reason to –

No reason to anything at all.

“It is within the limits of what a bacta tank can heal,” Lan Wangji said, because it was, it would be, as long as he got him there in time.

Time that was swiftly running out.

Later, when Wei Wuxian was safe, Lan Wangji would return to that obscure little space station that had nearly caused his beloved’s death and he would find out what had happened properly. He would find out, and he would slaughter every one of them that caused it, torment them for days if he needed to in order to know who to blame – it didn’t matter if their contribution were accidental or deliberate, major or slight. He would offer up a sacrifice of their suffering to the Dark Side, as solemn as lighting a stick of incense at a temple –

When Wei Wuxian was safe.

Because he would be. He had to be.

Lan Wangji’s Wei Ying would not die so easily.

“Uh, Master? We don’t have a bacta tank.” Xue Yang was silent for a long moment. “I don’t know that many people around here that do. This is Outer Rim, remember? Not even the Hutts have one.”

“There is one in an outpost in the Quiberon sector,” Lan Wangji said. His attention was split between piloting their stolen ship as fast as he could and monitoring Wei Wuxian’s vital signs. He had transferred a certain amount of energy into him already, but the Dark Side was poisonous in overly large quantities, especially if one was not accustomed to it; a pure Jedi like Wei Wuxian couldn’t tolerate it, and Lan Wangji would not risk making him worse. “Inat Prime system. I’ve entered the coordinates. Set us up for a jump to lightspeed.”

“Inat Prime,” Xue Yang repeated, instead of doing as he was told. “Isn’t that – near Rothana?”

Lan Wangji said nothing.

“Rothana’s a manufacturing planet. Heavy engineering – warships. It used to belong to a subsidy of the Jin Engineering Corps, maybe still does, I don’t know, but either way manufacturing planets like that are where those sleemos keep their precious IP. And that means it’s going to be guarded and booby-trapped up your chubba. Who in their right mind would set up an outpost anywhere near there?”

Xue Yang was descending into Huttese slang again, Lan Wangji noted to himself, keeping his calm only by sheer force of willpower even as the Dark Side screamed in his mind that now was the time for rage and pain and blood. Given his hatred of the entire species, Xue Yang only did that when he was especially anxious and didn’t want to admit it.

Later, when he didn’t have more pressing things on his mind, Lan Wangji would have to inquire of his apprentice – which he had previously believed was as transparent to him as a sheet of transparisteel – how he had learned about things like top-secret Jin Engineering manufacturing planets and IP and such things like that.

Later. Right now, he didn’t care.

“Prepare for jump,” he said again, the threat in his voice clear, and this time Xue Yang scrambled to obey, mumbling curses as he went. This was more typical of Xue Yang, but in this case it signified that he was concentrating, and that was all Lan Wangji cared about.

The rest of the trip passed as if in a daze, time counted in the beats of Wei Wuxian’s heart. Still strong, because Wei Wuxian was strong – this wouldn’t be the end of him. It wouldn’t.

Lan Wangji would make sure of that.

“We’re here,” Xue Yang said, breaking through Lan Wangji’s extreme focus on the rise and fall of Wei Wuxian’s chest. “I’m going to guess that our destination is the third planet? If you can call those other ones planets, they’re barely more than asteroids…”

Lan Wangji hummed, affirming.

“So, you going to tell me what this place is? Some super-secret Sith hideout?”

“No.”

“Smuggler’s base? Bounty hunter lair? Mandalorian terrorist cell? Clone factory?”

Lan Wangji rolled his eyes. Xue Yang had been reading too many historical action comics again.

“No, but seriously, Master! I deserve to know what we’re getting into, don’t I? What is this place?”

Lan Wangji was tempted to say you deserve nothing but what I give you, you filthy-tongue swamp-rat, but that was the Dark Side speaking, not him, and not only because the Gusu Lan Jedi order in which he had been raised did not permit cursing. It was simply anathema to him - he was Sith, but not a Lord, and he had encouraged this self-same insolence because it was better than having Xue Yang cringe before him like a kicked dog.

No matter how irritating it might be at times like this.

“It’s Jedi,” he said shortly, and to his amusement that actually shut Xue Yang up for a solid minute.

“I’m sorry, Master, I think I temporarily went insane due to Dark Force poisoning,” Xue Yang finally said. “But did you say that we’re planning on popping over and ‘borrowing’ the bacta tank of a bunch of Jedi?”

“Mm.”

“Master. Master. Please tell me you remember that we’re Sith, right? Sort of the sworn enemy of the Jedi? Arrest-on-sight orders? Any of this ringing any bells here? No? In short, have you lost your mind?”

Lan Wangji took Wei Wuxian’s pulse again. It was getting increasingly thready; he frowned.

“Take us in,” he ordered, and Xue Yang made a whining sound not unlike an especially agitated cat, but he obeyed, finding the planetary base and flashing them with a urgent medical attention required signal and transmitting the passcode Lan Wangji recited to him.

The base opened its doors in silent invitation.

Xue Yang took them in, apparently resigned to his fate and determined to pointedly suffer and judge him without saying a word.

This determination cracked the second they passed through the gates.

“Master!” he shrieked. “Master, Master! That’s the Qinghe Nie emblem!”

“It is,” Lan Wangji agreed. Foreseeing Xue Yang’s next question, he added, “It is here because this is an outpost of the Qinghe Nie Jedi order.”

Xue Yang sounded a bit like a rusty door when he hyperventilated, and even more so when he started laughing hysterically. How had he ever survived being a Sith before, if this was how he reacted to stress?

“Great, right, yes,” he said, nearly howling. “Sure, why not? Let’s go knock on the door of some Jedi and ask them for a bacta tank like we’re borrowing a cup of sugar, sure, okay, we can do that. Jedi are chumps, they’re all about mercy and sympathy and bantha fodder like that; we can con ‘em - it’ll be tricky, but it can be done when you’re in a pinch. I’m fine with that, up for it, it’s cool, all cool. You know who we can’t con? Qinghe Nie, that’s who. ‘Suppress evil no matter the cost’ Qinghe karking Nie.”

Lan Wangji ignored him, scooping Wei Wuxian into his arms and heading out into the saber hall.

Three grim-faced Jedi dressed in the immediately identifiable colors of the Qinghe Nie were waiting there, hands on their lightsabers and droids lingering in the corridors, but they did not attack. Instead, they led Lan Wangji, a nervous Xue Yang dogging his heels, to the medical bay, never uttering a single word.

The medical droids took Wei Wuxian from his arms – Lan Wangji forced himself to recall the Lan sect mantras on restraint and allowed them to do so without ripping out their wires for daring to touch him – but it wasn’t until Wei Wuxian was firmly encased in the bacta tank, the oxygen-rich liquid flowing into his lungs to heal him, the colors on all the screens all showing positive signs, that he was finally able to release the breath it felt that he’d been holding since he first saw the broken starfighter that encased Wei Wuxian’s broken body.

This was fine.

“Wangji,” a low voice said from behind him, and Lan Wangji’s back stiffened.

This was not fine.

The Qinghe Nie were a strange order of Jedi – almost heretical, really, by any traditional measure. The orthodox Jedi order, for the most part, valued calm and serenity and selflessness, prioritizing the logic of the mind over the yearning of the heart, preaching detachment from worldly concerns and attachments…

Qinghe Nie, in contrast, valued righteousness, and cultivated rage.

Halfway to Sith, Lan Wangji’s uncle had once remarked after a glass of something stronger than tea. He’d regretted it later, of course, and tried to walk it back, smooth over his uncharacteristic rudeness, but Lan Wangji still remembered.

The adherents of Qinghe Nie were of the view that for every virtue there was a fault – that the Jedi’s emotional remove would at times render them passive, that self-control could too quickly shade into indifference. They argued that it was the duty of the virtuous to be enraged by evil, intolerant of it, and that only through that anger would they be motivated to act to eradicate it.

Their philosophy often led to their deaths, whether through reckless action or through the corruption of rage into madness, but even their harshest critics had to concede that they were devastatingly effective.

Lan Wangji had always thought that there was something heartbreakingly sincere about all the Jedi that took the harsh vows of Qinghe Nie, each one willingly trading away long lives for the sake of righteousness, for the ability to make a change in the world, each one unable to tolerate life if it meant they weren’t striving to make things better. Perhaps they did not match the Jiang for creativity or the Lan for elegance, perhaps their techniques were more brutish and less refined, their diplomacy little short of appalling, but no other Jedi order could match them for sheer power.

Very few people wanted to be between a Qinghe Nie Jedi and their target, and still less if they had allowed themselves to succumb to the beserker rage that sometimes took them on the battlefield – indeed, in a crisis that called for force of arms, most people who knew what they were about would rather have a single Qinghe Nie on their side than an entire battalion of war-droids from the Jin or Wen engineering corps.

Still, even that efficiency might not have been enough to convince the ancient sticklers of the Jedi Council to condone such a Sith-like view of the Force, but the Qinghe Nie also had an unsurpassed connection to the kyber crystals that were essential to the creation of lightsabers – the mines under their hands were far more numerous and more fruitful than any other order, and for all that they seemed to have dubious connections to the lightsabers they crafted and wielded, with their highly unusual one-sided edge, they were always open-handed and willing to let other Jedi pick freely from their stores.

With the ancestral weapon of the entire Jedi order at stake, even the Jedi Council unwillingly bowed its head to reality and compromised.

Not very happily. Especially since the fierce young head of the Qinghe Nie order – the great Chifeng-zun, Nie Mingjue – had been constantly causing trouble for them ever since he had been admitted to their deliberations.

More relevantly, though, was that Nie Mingjue was also a good friend of Lan Xichen, Lan Wangji’s elder brother by blood, and it had been the gift of his token, his passcode, never revoked, that they had used to enter through the gates.

(Look what happened to the Twin Jades you prized so much, my old clansmen, Uncle, Father, Grandfather. Look at me now. Begging for scraps from a Nie -)

Lan Wangji turned and saluted, bowing deeply and ignoring Xue Yang, who had progressed so far into hysterical laughter that he was now hiccupping.

Nie Mingjue caught his hands and raised him up, just the way he always had, and that grim face surveyed Lan Wangji from top to bottom, those searing eyes seeming to pierce into the depths of his corrupted soul.

“You look well,” he said, which surprised even Lan Wangji, who had thought himself beyond surprises. “That’s good.”

“What the fuck,” Xue Yang muttered. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck – you guys are with me here, right? This is kriffing insane…”

The Qinghe Nie Jedi ignored him.

“Chifeng-zun,” Lan Wangji said politely, and ignored the man’s raised eyebrow. He was not about to fall back into calling him da-ge the way he’d done back when he was in the Jedi crèche, no matter how tempting – everyone had called Nie Mingjue da-ge back then, too young to be afraid of his fierce and barely leashed energy. “Thank you for lending us temporary use of your base.”

There wasn’t really a polite way to say I wasn’t expecting to run into you here under the circumstances, but from the way Nie Mingjue snorted, Lan Wangji suspected he’d understood regardless.

“Checking up on the Jin,” he said, an explanation that Lan Wangji didn’t deserve to hear. “Treasonous svapers, the lot of them. Is this Wei Wuixan?”

Lan Wangji nodded. His heart was unexpectedly in his throat as Nie Mingjue studied the other Jedi through the glass of the bacta tank, though he wasn’t sure why.

He was Sith now, after all. Why would he care what Nie Mingjue thought?

It would have been easier if Nie Mingjue had been angry at him, full of rage the way he so often was. Easier if he’d turned his tongue as sharp as any lightsaber to scolding him, or turned his face away in coldness. Nie Mingjue notoriously despised the Sith, had probably meant to call the Jin Sithspawn instead of svapers earlier, had probably switched the word only in deference to Lan Wangji’s current occupation – which meant he knew, because of course he knew, there was no way Lan Xichen hadn’t told him even if his position on the Council hadn’t already entitled him to all such secrets.

He knew, and he still persisted in acting like – like –

“Cute enough,” Nie Mingjue commented, and Lan Wangji covered his suddenly burning face with both hands. “You have good taste.”

“Please stop,” Lan Wangji mumbled, mortified beyond all belief. Xue Yang was looking back and between the two of them with his jaw gaping wider than a Gungan’s.

Nie Mingjue snorted, amused. “I carried you around on my shoulders when you were knee high, Wangji. I think I’m entitled to torment you a bit about your crush.”

Xue Yang looked like he was going to forsake the ways of the Sith, convert to Qinghe Nie, and start logging prayers at the temple of Nie Mingjue, and Lan Wangji couldn’t even blame him.

“Don’t you have anything to say about –” Lan Wangji shut his mouth with a snap.

He didn’t actually want to hear Nie Mingjue exorcising him for his choices, no matter how little he regretted them.

Nie Mingjue was silent for a moment, contemplative. “No.”

Lan Wangji blinked, not understanding.

“I don’t have anything to say,” Nie Mingjue clarified with a shrug. “I can’t say I entirely understand why you chose what you did, but we all choose our own paths in the Force, Wangji. I have faith that even though your path leads you to the Dark Side now, it will eventually lead you back to us once more. If you keep your sense of righteousness about you and continue to stand up for what you believe is right as you always have – and avoid engaging in the wholesale slaughter of innocents the way so many Sith do – I will never be disappointed in you.”

…maybe Lan Wangji would allow the people in that spaceport to live.

But only because it would hurt Wei Wuxian to know that he had sacrificed so much for nothing, of course. It was pure selfishness, nothing more.

(The Dark Side hissed in his head, bitter-angry-vicious-hate-hate-hate, but Lan Wangji hadn’t been Hanguang-jun for nothing. He controlled himself, allowing for only the influences he chose to accept – it was his independence that had led him to the Dark Side, and his independence, he believed, that would allow him to forge his own path, as Nie Mingjue had said, even inside the ways of the Sith. His uncle would say that such thoughts were pure arrogance, pride before the fall, but, well. He’d already Fallen, hadn’t he?)

“Would you like to stay with him until his vital signs have recovered?” Nie Mingjue asked, and Lan Wangji nodded, grateful despite himself.

Grateful, too, that Nie Mingjue did not speak of Lan Wangji reconciling with the rest of his old order.

“I will not stay longer,” he added. “I know it must be a burden to you, opening your doors to one such as me –”

“Ridiculous,” Nie Mingjue scoffed. “This is a secret base, Wangji. If you don’t say anything about it, who’ll know? And before you ask, I’m going to tell Wei Wuxian that you saved his life whether you’re here for him waking up or not, so take that into account when selecting your leave time. And I’ll exaggerate.”

He would, too, Lan Wangji thought fondly. Nie Mingjue had always been big brother to all the Jedi younglings, no matter how grown up they eventually got, and he never let them forget it.

“I’ll consider it,” he allowed, and settled into a meditation pose at the side of the room.

“As for you,” Nie Mingjue said to Xue Yang, who straightened up so quickly that he might as well have attached a ruler to his spine. “I hear that you’re the one that’s been attacking Hutt palaces?”

Xue Yang glanced at Lan Wangji, who sighed.

“You shouldn’t encourage him, da-ge,” he murmured. “He gets into enough trouble as it is.”

“Comradery does more to defeat evil than any amount of solitary philosophizing,” Nie Mingjue proclaimed, certain as ever in his own righteousness. It would be unbearably irritating if it was anyone less sincerely bullheaded about it, earnest but full of flaws. “Anyway, it’d be good for some of our padawans to see a Sith in action without needing to go up against one right off the bat. You in?”

“…in? I don’t – there aren’t any Hutt palaces around here..?”

“They take their travelling palaces on the Quiberon Line,” one of the Qinghe Nie Jedi said, and Xue Yang’s eyes lit up at the promise of what he undoubtedly thought was an opportunity for wholesale slaughter. It wouldn’t be, of course, not when he was going to be fighting alongside the strict Qinghe Nie, but it would keep him busy for the time it took Wei Wuxian to stabilize and recover.

Maybe Lan Wangji would even stay long enough to speak with his Wei Ying before retreating to be his silent and unwanted protector again.

Maybe.

#mdzs #lan wangji #wei wuxian #xue yang #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #escape your destiny #star wars au

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cosmicbob · 4 years ago

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How would a typical Sugar Rush date go? Like I could imagine their dates could be absolute chaos and causing massive property but they could just be like movie nights or maybe there's a third option I'm overlooking.

Oh yes, for sure. Their first date was chaos as Ruby took Nora to the local shooting range where she was known on a first name basis. Nora found it cute, at first, to watch her girlfriend nail the paper Grimm targets between the eyes every single time with Crescent Rose, but she quickly grew bored and craved something a bit more...dangerous.

So out in the parking lot they went where Nora talked Ruby into trying to pick off a few dust grenades in mid-air that had been launched from Magnhild. Ever the eagle (silver?) eyed shot, Ruby effortlessly sniped each grenade, sending them exploding into bright pink fireworks in the dark Vale sky.

But Nora wasn't through and, cackling with glee, she fired a massive barrage of dust grenades, too many for Ruby to snipe. Ruby managed to hit most of them, frantically slapping a new magazine into Crescent Rose when she was low on bullets, but the grenades were too many and a few fell to the ground, blowing up several cars in the process. Someone called the cops and the girls turned themselves in without a fight. One phone call later and a very annoyed Weiss arrived to pay their bail.

After the girls got a stern talking-to from Ren and Weiss (even if Renora and White Rose isn't canon in this AU, both are still their partners and only want what's best for them) and were told to tone down the explosive chaos.

Now for their second date, they went to Colonel Calzone's Cheesy Castle for pizza and arcade. There was a giant three foot stuffed bear named Doctor Kisses for 100,000 tickets and Nora was hellbent on winning that for her girlfriend. For dinner, they skipped the food (though Nora was tempted by the Quadruple Meat BBQ Jalapeno Pizza) and went straight to the dessert menu. After ingesting unholy amounts of pancakes, cookies, ice cream and more, they paid their tab and ran off to the arcade to farm for tickets. Nora went straight to Whack-A-Grimm and Ruby went her way to play Undead Zombie Assassin III, which used a sniper light gun in the arcade cabinet.

After about an hour, both girls had a nice pile of tickets at their feet, with small crowds gathered to watch Ruby effortlessly head shot pixelated ghouls and Nora smashing the animatronic Grimm with wide-eyed glee. When Ruby dried the machine up of it's tickets, she clumsily stuffed them into a XXL Big Gulp cup to watch her girlfriend play.

"I just thought of something!" Ruby said. "If the more little robo-Grimm you smash, the more tickets you get, what would happen if you smashed all of them at once? You could get ALL THE TICKETS!"

"Ruby Rose, you are as smart as you are pretty!" Nora said with a big ol' smooch to her girlfriend's lips. Of course, she had brought Magnhild and quickly flipped it to hammer mode. With a loud cry of "I SAY THEE BOOP!", she brought the hammer down and crushed the machine to sparking wires and dented metal. Neither Huntress had to say anything, just sharing a quick glance at each other. Nora grabbed Ruby's hand and in a poof of red and pink rose petals, they were gone (and so was Dr Kisses)

Sure, Ren and Weiss were upset (again!) but Sugar Rush was happy to have had such a fun night out AND they made out a few times on top of Dr Kisses (Nora thinks it makes a cozy bed.)

#rwby #rwby sugar rush #ruby rose #nora valkyire #ruby x nora #maybe this ship should be called 'communism' because it's a hammer and sickle #sugar rush #sugar rush rwby

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planetsano · 5 years ago

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sugar rush!

prompt: a very studious s/o relying on a sugar rush to make it through the day after staying up all night to study for an exam.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader, kirishima eijirou x reader if you squint (he's so cute I couldn't help myself)

tag(s): college!au, aged up, domestic, fluff, candy, facetime, energy crashing, weed

warning(s): drug references, cursing

su·gar rush

Noun

A sugar rush is an experience of high energy after eating or drinking a considerable amount of sugar in a short period of time, often associated with hyperactive children.

Bakugou told you to go to bed when you facetimed him last night at 2 am. You woke him fully out of his sleep and asked to keep you company while you studied.

“What the fuck do you want?” Bakugou rubbed at his eyes trying to adjust to the sudden brightness from his phone. His eyes were extra sensitive waking up from his slumber. You were lucky because if it was anyone else he would have let the phone ring and went back to bed.

“Did I wake you? I'm sorry.” You puffed your cheeks out holding your phone closer to your face. The angle wasn't flattering, but Bakugou and you were past that point in your relationship. You were 100% positive he’s screenshotted and taken at least 1,000 ugly pictures of you. You have some of him but they always seem to magically disappear. You should really put a lock on your phone.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Bakugou was in full view now. Head propped against his pillows, hair messy, and muscles exposed from wearing a black tank top. His room was dark but his face was illuminated from the brightness of his phone. His looks never failed to make your tummy do flips. How did you land a hottie like this?

“Yeah.. I know it's late, but I want company! I feel like I'm gonna fall asleep but I have to study more.” You propped your phone against some books giving him a full view of your set up. Papers, notebooks, colorful pens and highlighters seemingly scattered randomly throughout your desk. You sat in your chair with one leg to your chest and the other planted on the ground making your chair spin from side to side. He thought you looked cute like this. Pajamas, messy hair, and glasses falling off the bridge of your nose.

“You need to sleep.” He sighed. You just rolled your eyes and picked up a textbook that was out of frame.

“I'll sleep when I'm dead.” You said nonchalantly as you opened the book and started flipping through the pages.

“I'm serious. You're going to have zero energy for tomorrow. Go to bed.” Bakugou chastised you and you sighed heavily.

“Ugh, fine. You're no fun anyway.”

Knowing you, he should have known you weren't going to listen to him last night. He thought that maybe he should've blown up your door to see if you were okay. It became the morning routine for the both of you when you first started dating. He’d knock on your door to walk you to class and you’d greet him with a sweet smile and a kiss. Everyday it was somewhere different. One day it's his lips, then the next it could be on the cheek, and his personal favorite is when you stand on your tippy toes to try to kiss his forehead. But that didn't happen today because you didn't answer.

So it was safe to say that Bakugou was a little peeved when he got to class without you by his side. He entered the classroom to see some extras idly chatting with their peers and some doing homework at the last minute. Denki and Mina were chatting towards the back of the classroom. Mina noticed the angry blond and waved him over. Bakugou walked up and greeted them both with a low hum.

“Where's (Name)?” Mina asked, tilting her head to the side. It was odd seeing Bakugou by himself.

“Don't know.” Bakugou answered bluntly.

“Aw, don't tell me you've gone and made her mad.” Mina teased. Bakugou rolled his eyes and mumbled a low “shut up.”

“Now that I think of it, where's Kirishima? I didn't see him this morning either.” Denki added.

The three continued to chat but Bakugou wasn't paying attention at all. All their talking was background noise at this point being washed out by his thoughts. He was becoming more and more anxious as the minutes went by. Class was starting soon and most of everyone had already come into the lecture room.

Were you okay?

Are you sick?

Did you need help?

Were just a couple thoughts running through his mind so you could only imagine the relief and annoyance he felt when he saw you bop into the classroom with Kirishima. He had to do a double take because not only was weird hair giving you a piggyback ride, you were pouring three pixy stix in your mouth.

Bakugou watched you hop off Kirishima’s back and happily greet your friends (which was practically the entire classroom) like an energized puppy. You went to Izuku and happily squeezed his cheeks together between your dainty hands. He didn't mind, he thought your high energy was amazing.

“Good morning, Midoriya!” You smiled at him.

“G-ood mornin-g, (Name)!” His voice was somewhat muffled as he spoke but nonetheless he had a smile on his face.

“You’re so squishy just like a mochi!.” You continued to squeeze his chubby cheeks together as the three watched on.

“(Name) is being kind of..” Denki trailed off.

Hyper was the word he was looking for. You were hyper and practically bouncing off the walls like one of those tiny rainbow balls kids got out of the candy machine for 50 cents.

“Annoying? Yeah.” Bakugou said in his usual harsh tone and started to walk over to you. He was sure to give Kirishima a death glare as he walked past him to get to Mina and Denki.

“What'd I do?” A confused Kirishima asked Denki and Mina. He knew he was going to get an earful from his friend later.

All three of them watched the irritated blond tap your shoulder. You looked excited to see him and waved Izuku goodbye while Bakugou took you to another quiet corner of the lecture hall.

“What's with you?” Bakugou asked, looking down at you.

“Whaddya mean?” You looked down at your fingers and started twiddling them together under his stare.

“You're boppin’ around like you just did 80 lines of coke.” He said.

“Am not!” You looked up at him with furrowed brows, crossed your arms then stomped your foot childishly. You weren't scaring him if that's what you thought. He also noticed that your tongue was stained blue.

“You are.” He squeezed your nose gently. “What's got you so wired?”

“I didn't sleep at all last night so Kiri brought me some candy and a slushie this morning.” You answered.

“Candy?”

“Yeah!”

“Ever heard of coffee?”

“I don't like coffee.”

“You're going to crash, you know that right?” Bakugou asked.

“It's okay ‘cause you're going to catch me, right, handsome?” You kissed his cheek and on cue the bell rang.

Throughout the entire exam Bakugou couldn't help but to keep glancing at you in your seat. Your foot was tapping rapidly against the floor as you focused on your test. Every now and again he would see you sneak some form of candy into your mouth. Your eyes never left your test when your hand slid into your bag pulling out a gummy worm. It was such a contracting sight, being incredibly focused on the exam in front of you all while chewing on something as silly as a gummy worm. Eventually class ended and exams were turned in. You were pretty confident.

By the time lunch came around, you were completely drained. In the middle of your third class your energy plummeted and all you wanted to do was sleep. You could barely keep your head lifted without slipping into sleep. You were so happy lunch came around in hopes some food would pull you through the rest of the day.

When you walked into the cafe Mina spotted you and waved you over to the table. Everyone greeted you and soon you sat next to Bakugou who had saved a seat for you.

“Hey guys.” You smiled putting your bag on the table in front of you.

“So, (Name)! We were all thinking we should hang out tonight.” Mina smiled at you with an eager smile.

“Oh, yeah? What’s the plan?” You yawned and rested your head on Bakugou’s shoulder and wrapped your arms around his bicep.

“Game night!” Kiri exclaimed.

“And a hot box.” Denki added and high-fived Kiri.

The table continued to converse about the later plans and that's when Bakugou leaned over to whisper to you.

“You gonna eat?” He asked.

“No, ‘m not hungry..” You said quietly feeling your eyes start to droop. Soon enough you were

“So how does that sound (Name)? (Na-) Oh, she's asleep.” Mina laughed at the sight. You were fully asleep, still holding onto Bakugou’s arm like it was your pillow.

“I told her to go to sleep last night but she's fucking hardheaded.” Bakugou shook his head looking at you as you were fast asleep.

“Man! I thought the candy was working!” Kirishima frowned that his plan didn't work.

“I mean, it was for a little bit.” Denki said.

“I'm gonna take her back to the dorms so she can rest.” Bakugou said and gently shook you awake.

“Wah- Was I asleep?” You asked dazedly.

“Get up dummy, I'm taking you to your room.” He said.

He spent the rest of the afternoon with you, napping the afternoon away.

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #my hero academia x reader #bakugou imagines #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou x reader #my hero academia imagines #my hero academia #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakusquad #bnha imagines

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yeoldontknow · 5 years ago

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I WANT ENOUGH!YEOL IN A HOSPITAL!AU BECAUSE I LOVE PAIN XOXO (also i love you so much)

i made myself hurt. i made myself soft. i made myself fall apart. here we are :(

send me a chanyeol + a prompt!

Verse: Enough + Hospital AU Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; plus size female; enough!reader) Rating: PG-13 Warnings: some sexual themes; heavy angst; romance; chanyeol cries and it breaks my damn heart; discussions of being overweight; the stigma of being a plus size or fat person in a hospital which is a really specific thing to experience; discussions of pregnancy Word Count: 1.4K

Three minutes.

It only took you three minutes to know you loved Chanyeol. The day you met him, he was shy, a new hire. He shook your hand with confidence and smiled like he had something he wanted to prove to the sun. He was soft. He was handsome. But then, he sat beside you and he giggled. That day, his desk was decorated with welcome confetti - your idea, a tradition you started for each new member brought to the team. Flowers were placed next to his keyboard, ribbons on his stapler and notepad. Your idea too, a way to bring colour to the monotony of admin work. He giggled, joyful, unbridled, clapped his hands together and didn’t bother to hide the glee that overtook his features.

It took only three minutes.

Six months.

It took six months of dating to realize you wanted to marry him. You didn’t say it out loud, certain this kind of admission was coming much too soon and much too fast, but you knew it was true. Over time, you had grown utterly disinterested in a life, in events, in plans that didn’t include him. You had a life. You had friends. You wanted him to be involved in every aspect of it. It was a Sunday, the day you told yourself you wanted to be his wife. A new thought, a new idea, one you had never tried on before - until Chanyeol, you were content with yourself.

After Chanyeol, you were alive. You rolled over and cupped his cheek, whispered that you needed him, wanted him, craved him to his closed eyes and soft breaths. He didn’t wake when you touched him, and from the kitchen you smelled the coffee start to brew from the automatic start. You were making a life together. You wanted to age alongside him until your bones were ash.

It only took six months.

Two years.

The earth moves slowly around the sun, but in Chanyeol’s arms life came quickly, and life came strong. Before him, when you were alone and at peace, you not once felt the urge to be a mother. You are not maternal - you are naturing, you are kind, and you are affectionate, but you are not maternal. Your reasons for not having a child outweighed and grew well beyond your reasoning for having one, but just the same way you woke up one morning wanting to be his wife, so too did you go to bed one night wanting to carry his child.

It happened silently, suddenly, a thought that entered your mind abruptly while he dried his hair. Sitting on your shared bed, shoulders rounded and skin soft, you decided you wanted more of him. Another. An infinite amount of his hope, his smiles, his laughter, his temper in the world. You wanted family - not just him, your whole life, but a line of it, the kind of line that leaves scars in the earth long after you both have passed, a generation born out of love. You were still unmarried, close to calling him your fiance and still calling him your husband in your mind, a thought and a name you keep to yourself, but this too came quickly. Two years was too soon to want a child, a family, but you wanted it. You wanted it.

It took two years.

Chanyeol has been crying for three hours.

With your hand held tightly in his, sits beside your hospital bed, eyes and cheeks wet, too afraid to leave your side. Head pressed against the pillow, you watch as he weeps, fights against the barriers that keep you separated, and clings to you as best he can. The back of your hand has grown wet with his tears, his body still wracked with fear and anguish. He’s your soft star, your heartbeat, and you bring your other hand to card through his hair, needing more of him. Needing all of him.

‘I promise I’m fine,’ you repeat.

You’ve lost track of the number of times you’ve said it, the number of times you’ve done your best to affirm it, but still he does not believe you. His large eyes are stricken, painted with horror as he shakes his head, pushing the chair closer to your bedside, even though there is no more room to spare.

‘No,’ he argues, because he is stubborn, because he is insistent, because he refuses to let it go. ‘You fainted in the kitchen. You didn’t even wake up until we were halfway here!’ The stress creeps back into his voice, skin falling pale once more, and though you roll your eyes at his persistent challenge to your confident affirmations, your heart flutters, wondering how you ever coped without a love like his.

Giggling, you stroke your finger along the tip of his ear, feeling his long eyelashes flutter against your skin. He’s burrowed into your arm, breathing your scent in deeply. If he could, you’re certain he’d be in the bed with you, unwilling to be parted.

‘Yes,’ you agree, nodding against the rough cotton. ‘But I have juice now.’ You cast your gaze to the bedside tray that contains a large juice box of apple juice. The straw reminds you of when you were a child, the days when you chewed the plastic out of anxiety. Today, it remains perfectly rounded, your toes having wiggled beneath the sheets with each excited sip. ‘I’m practically spoiled here. They even gave me peaches!’

Chanyeol shakes his head against your arm in vigilant disagreement, looking up once more with an expression that conflicts your heart. You would swoon by the sight of it, but are shattered by the pain of it, wishing he would believe you are whole, and you are well, if only so he could return to being your sunshine.

‘I’m scared,’ he whispers, and you break.

Laughing at the softness, the silliness of his anxiety, you pull him up to you, kissing his lips eagerly.

‘Don’t laugh,’ he murmurs, kissing you once more with a groan. ‘I can’t cope if you’re not safe.’

The sound of the door opening interrupts you both, and Chanyeol returns to his seat, gaze fixated on the doctor who enters carrying a clipboard. His hair is greyed at the edges, glasses thin framed with lenses almost too thick for the wiring. Normally, you hate doctors. You hate doctors and you hate hospitals, neither a thing that seems to listen to women, all your problems and all your issues always somehow boiling down to your weight or your gender. You prepare yourself now for a reprimand that will almost certainly be moot, ready, once more, to be told you are not thin enough, not well enough, and certainly not privileged enough to be healthy.

‘Well,’ he begins gently, lowering himself to the rolling stool in the corner of the room, ‘your iron count is low which partially explains your fainting spell.’

Rearing back against the pillow, you cock your head in surprise, amazed that, no, this is not about your weight. ‘See!’ you exclaim, giggling as you nudge into Chanyeol.

‘But,’ the doctor continues, distracting you from Chanyeol’s sigh of relief, ‘congratulations are in order. Your blood tests confirm you’re pregnant. You’ll have to come back in a few weeks for a scan and a full pre-natal check up. There’s no way to tell how far along you are at the moment, so you’ll have to schedule an appointment with the nurse on the way out. Until then, I’ve prescribed a full pre-natal vitamin…’

A ringing in your ears overtakes the room, blood rushing simultaneously away from your head and into your cheeks, a conflicting experience that makes you feel dizzy.

‘Baby?’

Chanyeol puts the straw of your juice box between your lips and urges you to sip. Obedient, you regard him with wide eyes, feeling ashen. He’s started to cry again, doing his best to maintain his composure for your wellbeing. And it is only when you pull back, the sugar and the sweetness taking root in your veins once more that you look back to the doctor, bewildered.

‘I’m sorry,’ you begin, finding your voice with care. ‘I’m pregnant?’

At this the doctor laughs, dropping his pen and offering you an understanding smile. ‘I understand this is a shock.’

Blinking through your shock, you feel Chanyeol fall into your chest, pressing kisses to your neck, your jaw, your cheek. Openly he cries, his hand wandering down your belly where he splays his fingers wide.

‘I love you,’ he whispers. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’

‘Chanyeol,’ you mumble, stroking his hair with trembling fingers.

He pulls away to look at you with concern, a new wave of tears soaking his cheeks through his brilliant, otherworldly smile.

‘I’m scared,’ you whisper, and he rests his forehead against yours with a quaking sigh.

‘We’ll be fine,’ he assures. ‘I promise.’

#chanvember drabble game!#chanvember 2020!#chanyeol x you #chanyeol x reader #chanyeol scenario #chanyeol fanfic #chanyeol fanfiction #chanyeol au #chanyeol prompt

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samthecookielord · 19 days ago

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Wired Sweet Doodles

#cookie lords art #utdr #deltarune sweet #deltarune sweet capn cakes #deltarune cap'n #deltarune k_k #wired sugar rush au #deltarune

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thepencilnerd · 5 years ago

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maybe we’re just | not |meant to be

�� absolute value [ab·so·lute val·ue] (n.) the magnitude of a quantity, irrespective of sign; the distance of a quantity from zero.

➵ pairing: min yoongi x reader

➵ This was not the first time you’d met Min Yoongi. In fact, you had encountered him throughout many of your previous lifetimes—and yet unbeknownst to either of you, fate was hard at work trying to keep you together as much as destiny was trying to pull you apart. Maybe in another life, another time, another world, another universe...

How many chances did you get until you were finally granted the opportunity be with your soulmate? Would there ever come a time when both of you could find peace in this never ending cycle of life and death—or will the two of you be at the mercy of space and time, forever swimming along the cosmos in search of one another?

➵ genre: definitely a soulmate/multiple past lives AU, love triangle, fluff, heavy angst, bit of historical fiction, modern timeline, time jumps, alternate/parallel universes

➵ warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, fighting, blood, terminal illness, main character death

➵ word count: 15.9k

a/n: brainstormed this over the course of four hours and started writing on May 2nd :’) please have tissues

The first time you had met was at the fall festival. Each year, your parents were adamant on being the hosts and holding the gala at the palace. Your dress, tailored by your dearest friend, sparkled bright red against the warm glow of the paper lanterns that decorated the path. The festival was alive underneath a beautiful autumn sky, and the vibrant sound of the town’s laughter and jester music echoed throughout the quiet night.

As you were walking past the booth where children were bobbing for apples, there he was. You saw him first, of course. He wore a plain blue mask and a black cape, undetectable to any non-speculative passerby but you. Even behind his seemingly plain mask, your gaze met his the same moment his eyes locked onto yours.

Despite having a fully decorated mask with gemstones, gold lace, and the works to cover your entire face, his stare pierced through yours with the strength of a thousand daggers. His face didn’t ring a bell, not in the slightest—but he felt all too familiar.

You found out later that he was the son of the town’s blacksmith.

“Min Yoongi.” His name rolled off of your tongue like melted candle wax, coating every syllable with another layer of intrigue and curiosity. “Min. Yoongi. Yoongi...” You rested the tips of your fingers over your mouth while repeating each word, feeling how every small muscle twinged and produced the lovely sound that was his name.

His hand traced an invisible swirl along your skin, following the curve of your shoulder down to forearm and then to your hand. “______,” he spoke softly. You opened your eyes to see Yoongi lying parallel to you, the small distance between you no bigger than an arm’s reach away.

“______...” He spoke in an even quieter voice this time, afraid that if he said your name in vain that you would evaporate into thin air and leave him—all alone. Your name sounded like poetry as it danced across his lips.

Reaching over to him, your fingertips gently brushed over his lower lip as he continued to say your name. Even though he’d visited your chambers hours before, it paled in comparison to the intimate moment you were sharing now.

He lifted his hand up to your face carefully, brushing the soft skin of your cheek before settling on your cupid’s bow. Mirroring each others actions as you called each other’s name one after another, your voices slowed to a series of silenced murmurs as you lulled each other to sleep.

“Do you love him?”

Hidden underneath his anger, the hurt in his voice began bleeding through his words. You turned around to face him. His face was clear despite the pitch black darkness of the night, and his eyes glimmered in the moonlight.

“Do you love him?” he repeated, louder this time as he began walking toward you. The breeze was refreshing as it blew past the trees, rustling the leaves in its wake and causing his scent to surround you. Grabbing your hands, he gently cradled them in his; they were always so warm. He brought them close to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to them, the wetness of his tears trailing down the back of your hand.

You cupped his face and brought him closer to you, his hands still wrapped around yours and heartbeat so loud you could feel it thump against yours.

“No.” Your mouth felt like it was glued shut, but somehow you finally managed to speak. “No I don’t love him. I never have and I never will, Yoongi.” Each word stung more than the last.

He sniffled, biting his lip as his shoulders began shaking slightly.

“Yoongi,” you started while you held back tears of your own. “I love you so much.”

His knees buckled from beneath him as he kneeled by your feet, clutching desperately at your legs as if it were the last thing anchoring him on this earth. You felt the warmth of his tears seep through the material of your dress, breaking off another piece of your already shattered heart.

Kneeling down to comfort him, he couldn’t hold back the wash of tears after what came next. “But I have to marry him...”

You couldn’t do anything except hold him. Nothing you say would make him feel better; nothing you did would ever help him heal from the scars you gave him; nothing would ever be the same.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m sorry, Yoongi. I’m sorry...” Enveloping each other in a hug so tight it seemed to shut out even the cold wind, you felt tears of your own trail down your face. He held you tighter, burying his nose into the crook of your neck and memorizing every little part of you before—

“I love you,” he said. “I love you, ______. I know he will never be able to make you happy or love you the way that I do, but I love you and I don’t care if you marry him. No matter how long it takes, I will wait for you even in death.”

You couldn’t find it in your heart to speak, knowing you would burst into a wailing mess of screams and tears, and the last thing either of you needed was to be discovered by the royal guard. You began shaking at the realization that this was really it; this was the last you’d ever see him, hold him in your arms, kiss him, touch him—be with him.

Grasping the sides of his face, you pressed your lips against his for the last time. The salt from both of your tears mixing with the taste that was entirely him felt bittersweet. “I will wait for you, Min Yoongi,” you promised. “Even if I have to find you across in life, I will find you and we’ll be happy together.”

Before sharing one last kiss, he took your hand and put it over his chest. The pronounced beating of his heart made your vision watery again. “Promise.” It wasn’t a request or a question—it really was a promise.

Blinking back your tears, you brought his free hand over your chest and held it close. “I promise.”

“Large stack of pancakes no butter or whipped cream and a hot coffee!” Gustav shouted, the small bell on the kitchen counter ringing like the telephone.

Grabbing the piping hot plate, you piled it on your forearms with the rest of your orders and hustled to get them to their tables.

“Small kid’s meal with a side of fruit salad, an old fashioned with extra bacon, and an egg-white breakfast omelette with no tomatoes,” you recited cheerily, handing out each of the plates to the family sat at their table. “Enjoy!”

Thanking you, you whizzed by table after table until your arms were colored a bright red and indented with marks from the weighty plates. It was only lunch and you were already feeling the anxiety of rush hour at the diner. You were grateful when the giant bell finally rang from the cash register, signaling your break.

“Hey ______, do you mind pouring this man a fresh cup of joe?” Marcie called over, waving to you from the opposite end of the aisle. With one hand wrapped around the phone wire and the other punching numbers into the cash register, you ran over as quickly as you could to help.

You grabbed a freshly brewed pot from the machine and poured it into the mug, still warm from being fresh out of the dishwasher. “Any cream or sugar?” you asked the man hunched over the lunch counter with newspaper in hand.

“None, thank you,” he replied curtly. “Black is fine.”

Raising your brow at the voice, you turned around and set the cup down in front of him. The newspaper was fully opened and covered the entirety of his face. Assuming it was just your brain tricking you, you tapped Marcie on the shoulder and pointed to the back door. reminding her that it was your lunch break. Shooing you away, you grinned and wiped your hands before taking off your apron.

The quick rustle of paper crumpling was the last sound you heard before you were out the door.

“What was her name?” Yoongi asked Marcie who was still on hold with the real estate brokers. He kept the newspaper half-folded in one hand.

“Huh?” she replied. “Oh! That’s ______. Been working with us for a while. Real nice gal. Sad to see her go.”

Yoongi let out a bored ‘hmph’ and drank his coffee. There was something oddly magnetizing about you that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “She found a new job?”

Marcie took a few more notes down with her finger held up at Yoongi, bidding him to wait. He sipped in silence.

“Yeah, she finally got that job she’d been pining for on the east coast. Where was it... some banking company or stock market businessy title, can’t remember,” she rambled. “Today’s her last day.”

After a few seconds without a response, Marcie looked up and saw the young man in a daze. “Why? Cat got your tongue?” she joked.

He shook his head, coming back to his senses. “No, nothing. I just thought I saw her somewhere.” Covering his nosy curiosity with a mutter, Yoongi ignored his accelerating pulse.

“Bad timing I guess,” Marcie sighed, sensing the disappointment in his voice.

Without a second thought, Yoongi’s fist clenched the grayscale paper as it let out a satisfying crunch. Marcie’s eyes widened at this, making him clear his throat awkwardly.

"Sorry, finger cramps,” he stuttered. “I should get back to the office.” Gathering his coat, Yoongi tossed all the spare coins he had into the tip jar and left the diner. For some reason, he didn’t feel like eating lunch there ever again.

“Happy Birthday!!” you screamed in unison with all of your friends.

The lights flickered on, revealing a stone-faced Yoongi and overexcited, freeze framed Hoseok right behind him. After a few moments of awkward silence, the delayed sound of Namjoon’s popper going off made everyone burst into laughter.

Seokjin facepalmed. “Really, Namjoon?” Jimin and Taehyung shook their heads like disappointed children scolding an adult.

Yoongi was holding back a childish grin. “Thanks guys.” Even though his reaction was sub-par than what you expected for a surprise party, you smiled.

“Let’s cut the cake!” Hoseok shouted as if he were already on a sugar high.

Turning on the stereo, Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook, Seokjin, Namjoon and Hoseok began dancing like they were already in college. Admissions decisions were coming out next week and you all needed to relax. Luckily, Yoongi’s birthday was right around the corner and posed as the perfect opportunity to get together.

Laughing at the six boys’ and their antics, Yoongi walked over to you with a smug grin. “I told you I suck at reacting.” Popping open a bottle of mini-champagne you splurged on just for today, you handed one to him before opening your own.

“What can I say,” you shrugged, taking a drawn-out sip before continuing. “If it means we can all spend one more crazy night together, it’s worth it in my book.”

Yoongi sighed. “Why do you always talk like we’re going far away and never seeing each other again? We’re all staying in-state for tuition.” He took another swig before finishing his thought bubble. “None of us can even afford dorms, meals, or apartments anyway.”

You smiled at his seemingly naïve outlook on the situation. “Yoongi, we all know Jimin and Hoseok are already set for scholarships in NYC. Taehyung and Seokjin probably have acting gigs booked that they’re keeping a secret until the graduation, and Jungkook and Namjoon talked about how they wanted to go to Europe for a gap year.”

Yoongi clenched his jaw at the reality that washed over him like cold water. “We’ll be okay. As long as you’re staying here with me, these—” he paused to gesture at the group of boys messing around like a pack of wild animals. “—dingbats are the least of my worries.”

Your ears perked at his choice of words. “I worry you?” you asked, voice going two octaves too high for your comfort. His hand stopped mid-air while bringing the bottle to his lips, only then realizing the weight his words carried.

Clearing his throat harshly, you felt heat rise up your throat and pink dust your cheeks. It was the alcohol, right?

“We’ve been best friends for 18 years,” he defended. “Knowing how clumsy preschool you was and how stupid high school you can be, of course I’m worried about you.”

More color began rushing into your face. You chugged more of your drink to convince anyone else who’d ask you what was wrong that it was the alcohol, not your best friend’s words making you feel—no. You were friends. Best friends. Don’t blow anything out of proportion.

“Right back at you muffin man,” you winked, the alcohol giving you a bit more confidence than you usually had. Shooting you a gummy smile, you clinked your glasses together and felt the buzz flood your senses.

“Yoongi! ______!” Taehyung called from across the room. “Stay cheese!” Holding up his polaroid, the flash caught you off guard. Yoongi’s arm came up reflexively to shield your eyes, making your heart flutter even more. Note to self: expensive alcohol equals stronger alcohol.

Of course that wasn’t fucking true, not in the slightest.

Jungkook and the others groaned, chanting in unison for one more picture.

“Why not a group picture assholes?” Yoongi scoffed. “It’s my birthday so I get all the birthday wishes granted.”

Seokjin tsked. “Because you two look cute together and it’s an au naturale setting!” Giving into their relentless pleas, you wrapped your arm around Yoongi’s waist and gave the camera a goofy smile. Taken aback by your sudden physical contact, Yoongi’s heartbeat picked up at lighting speed. You could hear it through the thin fabric of his shirt.

The guys howled again. “Yoongi!” Jimin whined. “Come on! It’s just a quick picture!” Slinging his arm over your shoulder, you could’ve sworn he pulled you in closer for the shot. He rested his cheek on the top of your head and you felt his muscles pull into the gummy smile you had memorized by heart.

Taehyung snapped a picture as quickly as he could, but groaned after shaking the developed photo. “Shoot, my finger was covering part of the lens. One more, I promise!”

Yoongi let out a huff. Looking up at him, he lowered his chin and stared back at you. You never noticed how—pretty—he was until now. His eyes were more angular than you remembered, but his lips remained the same from when you were kids. He’d always pout whenever he got in trouble for playing too rough with the other guys.

You’ll never forget when he shoved Hoseok down the slide in 2nd grade and went on time out for the entire duration of lunch. Innocent 7-year old you felt bad for your best friend and snuck him the other half of your PB&J when the teacher wasn’t looking. This didn’t go unpunished of course, as you soon found yourself in the same time out corner as Yoongi. Strangely enough, you weren’t angry in the slightest.

The annoyed expression on his face slowly melted into one you struggled to map. Focused? Shocked? Surprised? Happy? Was there something smudged on your face? The edges of his lips formed into a gentle smile and he parted his lips to say—

“3, 2, 1!” the boys shouted in unison before the loud click of a camera shutter sounded again.

“God, I feel like I’m going to puke.” Your heart felt like it was going to dig itself out of your ribcage and run a marathon. “Why am I so nervous?” Fiddling with your fingers to try and calm your anxiety by shaking your hands around vigorously, Klaire grabbed you by the shoulders and looked at you with a wide eyes.

“______.” Her usually quiet voice was now firm, but still gentle. “Calm down. Breathe for me. I don’t need you hyperventilating in your dress.”

Letting out a deep breath you trapped inside your lungs for what seemed like hours, you closed your eyes and tried to steady the relentless pounding that was your heart rate.

“You’re marrying the love of your life,” she reminded. “You’re just excited.”

You gulped another welling bubble that came up your throat. No matter how many times you tried swallowing, your throat was as dry as a desert. You couldn’t drink water either because it was your mother’s wonderful idea to get a wedding dress with a corset. Talk about old fashioned, right?

“Were you this nervous for your wedding? Would you be this nervous?” The questions slipped out instinctively before you could stop them. “Like pit at the bottom of your stomach that feels like it’s ripping through your guts and weighing you down to the dark depths of hell?”

Klaire laughed at your ever-ornate vernacular that remained even when you were stressed out. “I’d be nervous if somewhere deep inside my heart, I knew he wasn’t ‘the one’.” Air-quoting the last part of her sentence, she patted the baby hairs that had been tussled during your mini fit.

The words sliced through your foggy mind like a hot knife, making your eyes widen and the color of your face wash out.

Seeing your reaction, she was quick to reassure you. “But you love him and he loves you! I promise, ______, you’re just excited. I was nervous on my wedding day!” She overemphasized her words and clasped her chest to try and be more convincing. “You’re getting married for God’s sake! It’s normal to be nervous!”

You needed to sit down. “Yeah...” A dry laugh escaped your lips. “I’m getting married.”

Three knocks sounded from the door. Turning around, you saw a familiar group of heads poke through the open crack. “Well, well, well,” the youngest smirked. “Look who it is.”

The corners of your lips curled into the biggest smile you’d mustered all day. “You guys!” Getting up, you ran over to Seokjin, Namjoon, Jimin, Hoseok, and Yoongi as fast as you could with the heels you had on. They brought you in for a group hug, being careful not to get tangled in your veil or snag your dress.

Klaire left the room as discreetly as she could, mentioning something about a cake or the balloons needing some double-checking.

“You look beautiful,” Jimin complimented, a genuine smile lighting up his eyes.

Seokjin had his hand clasped over his mouth, purposely overreacting to make you laugh and calm your nerves. “Who are you and what have you done with ______?”

Shaking their heads at the eldest’s incessant rapport for comedy, Yoongi refrained from elbowing his side.

“You do look really amazing, ______.” Namjoon also smiled, keeping his hands behind his back to not cause any accidents. Knowing him, it was a miracle Jimin didn’t bring cable ties with him as backup.

“Is it too late to ask you to marry me?” Hoseok chirped. Winking at you, you scoffed and shook your head, containing your laughter as you shoved his shoulder playfully.

Yoongi remained still, his eyes still scanning over your attire. Noticing how silent he was, the four cleared their throats all at once, snapping him out of his trance. Looking up and around at the guys, his eyes honed in on you.

“Yeah,” he agreed blindly. “You look—great. Stunning.”

Hoseok and the guys sensed the tension in the room. “I think we should go check up on Jungkook to see if he needs any help,” Jimin filled in. “God knows if he knows how to work a mic at his first announcer gig, right?”

The others chuckled and told you they’d see you at the reception. Giving them one more hug and bidding them goodbye, it was just you and Yoongi left in the room. Taking a seat on the couch, you ushered him over to sit beside you.

Instead, Yoongi opted to sit in the empty chair across the sofa. You couldn’t help but feel hurt by his pseudo passive aggressive decision. He seemed more quiet than usual—no, he was more quiet than usual.

“So,” he finally spoke after what seemed like a million years of silence. “Marriage.”

Biting your lip, you picked at your nails again. Klaire would kill you if she saw how much you’d ruined your manicure in the span of a few hours.

“Yeah. I’m getting married.” The words rolled off of your tongue like a foreign language, strenuous on your tongue and your heavy mind. “Your wedding is next week though, so don’t count me out,” you tried to laugh, but only succeeded in making yourself feel worse for whatever reason.

A ghost of a smile grazed Yoongi’s lips. His eyes flickered back and forth between his engagement ring and yours. “Are you excited?”

“Yes.” You answered robotically. The more you talked, the more each sentence out of your mouth felt like tar; acidic and painful, scorching your mouth raw. “Aren’t you?” you asked, referring to his engagement.

Yoongi nodded slowly, pressing his lips together and raking his teeth across his lower lip. “Of course I am,” he blurted out in a hasty tone. “Really, really excited. I can’t wait.”

Silence filled the room again. You wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. Why did this feel so horrible? Like you’d just stabbed your best friend in the back with a dull knife?

“I’m really happy for you, ______,” he declared. “I'm really happy that you’re happy.” His eyes fluttered softly and his throat bobbed.

Another pang reverberated in your chest. “I’m really happy for you too, Yoongi.” No matter how hard you tried to sound confident, your voice was on the verge of tears. He leaned over the space between you, he placed his hands over your clasped ones and kept his eyes down.

“Please stay happy,” he pleaded, unable to meet your gaze for fear of letting you see how watery his eyes were. “Please be happy. Live a long, healthy, happy life. For me.”

Choking back your own tears, you nodded.

You managed to find the strength in your voice to speak. One last wish before saying goodbye to your youth.

“Please don’t forget about me.”

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the groom!” Jungkook announced grandly, gesturing toward the French doors at the back of the hall. The youngest really was good at everything he set out to do.

Opening the doors, your fiancé stepped out with a humble bow and waved at everyone; with his father’s wedding tux on, meticulously brushed up hair, and a single red rose pinned by his pocket square, he looked as handsome as ever.

After the clapping settled down, Jungkook continued. “And now, I would like you all to give a warm welcome to the beautiful bride!” The applause was louder than before and made your stomach feel like it weighed a thousand tons.

“Don’t let me fall?” Opening your eyes to look at Seokjin, he held your hand tightly and spoke with nothing but sincerity in his voice.

“Never.” On cue, you began walking down the aisle. It was just like the movies, except it was about a million times more terrifying since you were the one actually walking down the obscenely narrow aisle. Locking eyes with your beloved, his lips were parted in awe from the moment you stepped onto the walkway.

The soft music that echoed from the speakers flooded the auditorium and added an extra blanket of comfort. Reality kicked in and you were overcome with the feeling of sheer terror, excitement, happiness, anxiety, joy, and every emotion in between.

You were getting married.

You stared straight ahead so you wouldn’t fall and clutched onto Seokjin’s arm as tight as you could. Once you made it to the altar, Seokjin kissed your cheek and made his way back to the tables.

“Dearly beloved,” the officiant began. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of this beautiful bride and groom as they proclaim their love and commitment to the world....” His voice suddenly blurred into muddled bubbles of distorted bass. It wasn’t until your gaze wandered and found Yoongi—he was already staring at you.

Pain flooded your chest again like the burning hot steel rod that was used to poke charcoal pits. Pain like that time you went to Splash City for a 7th grade field trip and fell down the water slide. You weren’t able to stand up straight, so the guys worked together to carry you back to where Miss Isles and the TA’s were sunbathing. Yoongi was crying more than you. A dull ache blossomed in your chest and spread to the tips of your fingers like ink droplets in water.

Pain.

The warm sensation of hands holding yours brought you back to the present moment. “And now—” The bellowing voice returned. “Kim Taehyung, do you take ______ to be your wife?”

Without a second of hesitation, Taehyung squeezed your hands gently and his eyes gleamed brighter than the sunset skyline. “I do.”

“Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect her, forsaking all others, and holding only unto her forevermore?” the officiant continued.

“I do,” he repeated confidently.

Turning to you, the vows continued. “And ______, do you take Kim Taehyung to be your husband?”

No longer looking at Yoongi, your heart was flooded with the love you shared with Taehyung just long enough for you to say, “I do.”

“Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect him, forsaking all others, and holding only unto him forevermore?”

Your eyes drifted to Yoongi for just a second before gazing at Taehyung and letting the words leave your lips.

“I do.”

The officiant smiled, blind to anything but you and Taehyung. “May the ring bearer—which to my knowledge, is the best man—bring forth the rings?”

Stepping towards the altar, Yoongi handed the velvet box to the officiant and didn’t dare to meet your eyeline.

“______ and Taehyung will now exchange rings as a symbol of love and commitment to each other,” he said for what was probably the billionth time in his entire career.

The rest of the vows passed by like a smudged blur. All you remember is hearing, “You may now kiss the bride” and Taehyung’s soft lips pressing against yours. When you pulled away, everyone was whistling, clapping, and cheering, overjoyed at the new union that was Kim Taehyung and ______, husband and wife.

Everyone except Yoongi.

He was frozen.

All he could do was put on a big smile for his best friend, happily married to the man she loved.

All he could do was hide his truth—

so that’s exactly what you did, too.

The reception was bustling with crowds of people dancing. Seeing as you didn’t recognize a handful of faces, you were pretty sure more than half of them were all co-workers Taehyung had invited.

“Okay, okay!” Jungkook’s voice sounded through the speakers, cracking the slightest bit from his energy. “It’s time for everyone to give their toasts to the wonderfully wed bride and groom!”

You tried your best not to roll your eyes by shaking your head and biting your lips. Hoseok ran to the mic first, butting Jungkook out of the way like he always did since elementary school.

“______, Taehyung—” He exhaled as he began speaking. “If there’s any couple who’s been more in love with each other since the day they met, I’d pay a million to see their faces when they see you two.” Keeping it short and sweet, a few whistles sounded from the back, causing you to blush.

Namjoon was next. “We all met ______ in kindergarten and have been best friends ever since,” he explained with a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “When she’d go to the bathroom or back to the cafeteria to get an extra cookie, we all talked about who’d get to marry her during lunch. Taehyung always had it bad for ______, and dreams do come true!”

Covering your face to hide your the redness of your cheeks, you looked over to see that Taehyung was doing the same, except he was peeking through his fingers to look at you lovingly. The sound of the guests’ laughter and cheers made your heart ring in your ears. Taehyung reached over to grab your hand; the feeling of his large hand encasing yours made a wave of relief wash over you.

Jimin waltzed on right after. “Going off of that, I remember how Yoongi would always glare at us and tell us to ‘shut up’ or that ‘______ never wanted to get married and live with her cat forever.’” Everyone chuckled. “______, Taehyung, congratulations on the beautiful life you’ll share together!”

Watching everyone raise their glass into the air, you hesitated before grabbing yours and taking a mouthful.

Seokjin went after Jungkook, who insisted that he was supposed to go first as the main host. As a result, he made it his best interest to publicly roast Hoseok on the stand and earn a round of laughter from all of the guests.

You looked back to Yoongi. Some part of you secretly hoped that he waited for his turn as a “save the best for last” type of speech. He was clenching a piece of paper tight in his fist, hell-bent on making it into nothing but a wrinkled ball of smudged ink and flecks of fiber.

Right on cue, he stood up and jogged up to the stage. Jungkook handed him the mic with a confused expression, but played it off as best he could with his signature wide-toothed grin.

Yoongi turned away from the mic to clear his throat away. Taking a deep breath, he struggled to find his voice despite the deathly quiet auditorium.

“______,” he said. “I remember the first day I met you like it was yesterday. We were in kindergarten and you were the new kid who got transferred to our classroom.” He wasn’t reading off of the paper he had out earlier.

This wasn’t his plan.

“You wouldn’t stop crying, saying how you didn’t know anyone in the class and all of your friends were gone,” Yoongi said as he chuckled to himself, remembering the memory crystal clear. “I told you to stop whining because it was getting annoying, and you started crying even more.”

You remember that day. Taehyung remembers that day. As did Namjoon, Hoseok, Jimin, Seokjin, and Jungkook. You were all in different grades, but in the same school and shared the same classroom.

“I remember feeling so bad for making you cry, I gave you the last piece of candy I had stuffed in my cubby. I saved up twenty gold stars for that.” Another soft wave of everyone’s laughter crashed against your ears. “Then in middle school, we all went to the water park for a stupid field trip. You fell down the slide and hit your head so hard, you were barely conscious.

“I carried you halfway across the park on my back. The guys were all screaming from behind me to put my flip flops on so I wouldn’t get any cuts on my feet.”

You never knew that. The week after you had the accident, Yoongi was in a cast for a month and refused to tell you why. The guys wouldn’t spill either, defending that they made a promise to Yoongi that they’d never break.

“When you agreed that going to prom would be a nightmare straight out of a 90′s rom-com,” he paused to bite back his lopsided smile. “I asked you to come with me since it would be our last cheesy high school memory with the group.

“For your birthday, we went to the botanical gardens. You went on for hours about how much you loved the roses there.” How could you forget? Yoongi pulled up to your house at 6 in the morning and told you to be out in 10. You were sleeping peacefully for the entire 5-hour drive—until he woke you up by plugging your nose and nearly suffocating you on your birthday.

Despite the growing ache in his throat, he pressed on. “I still have those pictures of you getting stung by that bee. I told you not to get too close to the flowers, but you never listened to me.”

More laughter. Not a single ounce of it came from you.

Yoongi’s voice grew quiet. “I remember talking to you right before midnight. You seemed stressed out about something...” His focus was entirely on you now. “Namjoon’s New Year’s party.”

Oh. How could you forget...

“Taehyung could not have timed his proposal more perfectly with the last clock strike.”

There it was.

“I guess what I’m trying to say,” Yoongi stuttered, collecting his thoughts. “Is that I really—I’m really happy for you, ______. And you too, Taehyung.” He added the last part in with a gummy grin that you could spot as painted on from a mile away.

“I wish you a long, healthy, happy, and exciting life together. Don’t forget about the rest of us, okay? I love you, too.” He barely skipped the pause between the last two words to sound like “you two,” but his message rung loud and clear.

He loves you.

Min Yoongi loves you.

The faded edges of the polaroid felt dull against your fingertips. You spent the past hour sitting in front of the fireplace with the old pictures of you and Yoongi in your hand. You only had three; all of them were from his birthday party, senior year.

The first one was blurry, but the memory was imprinted in your head as clear as day. Yoongi’s arm shielding you from the bright flash of Taehyung’s camera in his sneak attack of a photoshoot. You didn’t notice until now how closely you were pressed against Yoongi’s side.

The second was better. Taking note of how the camera was slightly zoomed in and leaning towards you, a melancholic smile flashed your face.

"My finger was covering the lens” my ass, you recalled. Taehyung did have feelings for you, even back then.

Your arm was wrapped around Yoongi’s side and his slung over your shoulder, both of your smiling like teenage idiots at the camera, thinking about god knows what.

Finally, you studied the third one for the longest. It was the one where you two were looking at each other, frozen like marble sculptures and unbound by the limits of time. His lips were parted just as you remembered them, torturing you ever still. You wanted nothing more than for this picture to come to life and speak those words to you, whatever they may be.

But you knew that it was just an old, fingerprint stained picture that would remain silent and lifeless forever.

“Are you coming to bed, love?” Taehyung’s deep voice called from behind you. Judging by how scratchy and groggy his voice was, he was definitely on the verge of falling asleep standing up. “It’s getting late and we have lots of exploring to do tomorrow.” Even though he was exhausted, he couldn’t hide the excitement laced in his voice.

After you got engaged, the two of you immediately settled on Crema, Italy as your honeymoon destination. From the hundreds of years of history, breathtaking scenery, rich culture, and not to mention the food, the past few days here had been pure heaven.

“Coming,” you assured warmly. Sitting on the photos to keep them hidden, you told him you’d be there after putting out the fireplace. He pouted and said that the bed was cold without you, and to hurry up.

His childish antics never failed to make your heart race. After he was back in the bedroom, you took another minute to look at the pictures.

With shaky hands and tears welling in your eyes, you threw them into the burning red embers of the fireplace one by one, watching them melt; the white plastic borders of the film curled inward and turned black, crumpling into nothing but a stringy mess of fumes; the ink that marked the date of that night disintegrated into the air as puffs of smoke, marking the end of something would never be.

If you weren’t nestled into Taehyung’s chest and deafened by the sound of his steady heartbeat, you could’ve sworn you heard that piece of your heart shatter that night.

Yoongi was lying comfortably on his couch. The T.V. was on but he didn’t hear any of it. The clock read 12:41 a.m. and as per usual, he wasn’t tired in the slightest. He didn’t feel like sleeping. He didn’t want to. He couldn’t.

“Yoongi?” a sleepy voice sounded from the bedroom. “Are you coming to bed?”

Lifting his head to the bedroom door, he saw his wife sticking her head out of the door crack ever so slightly. She must’ve woken up.

“Yeah, sorry,” he apologized humbly. “Had to finish some extra paperwork.Go back to bed, I’ll be there in a minute.” Getting up to quickly kiss her forehead, Yoongi promised her that he’d be there soon.

She gave him a half-asleep grin and nestled herself back into the covers. Yoongi turned off all the apartment lights and the T.V., leaving him in utter silence and darkness. The only reason he kept them running constantly was to block out the thoughts he had of you during the day.

Opening the coffee table drawer in front of the couch, he took out the wedding album from last month. When he opened it, he was surprised to find the three pictures of you and him from his senior year birthday party scattered on the first page. You always loved throwing surprise parties despite knowing that he would never react the way you wanted him to. It was sweet.

Looking at the polaroids, Yoongi was in absorbed into the memory of that night, eyes burning from not blinking for too long. The first picture was a blurry mess, but the second and third weren’t half bad.

He remembers your smile being his favorite. You’d get that crinkle in your nose and your eyes would turn into half moons like a cartoon character. Your teeth glinted like rare pearls from the ocean’s deepest depths, but your dimples were only noticeable from up close. Your smile was absolutely contagious.

The third frame was his least favorite. It was a moment captured in time that he would never forgive himself for; the biggest regret in his life—his living nightmare.

That was the night he was going to ask you to be his girlfriend.

It was the night everything was supposed to be perfect.

But it wasn’t.

Two weeks later, Taehyung came back from the tour for his debut film and had a party of his own to celebrate.

He asked you out.

You said yes.

He swept you off of your feet and kissed you like in the movies, twirling you around to the point where you couldn’t stop laughing. You were so happy. Yoongi didn’t have the guts to throw away the photos.

The two of you hadn’t talked since his wedding. It had only been a month, but it felt like an eternity spent in hell. He missed your voice; the sound of your laughter; that face you made when you scolded him and tried to be serious but ended up breaking into snorts. He missed you.

Flipping over to the next page, he found the letter from your wedding night. It was still badly tattered from when he let his anger seep through and needed something to clench. Everyone who saw it probably thought it was his toast to you and Taehyung, but no. It was his confession letter he’d saved from the night you got engaged at that stupid New Year party.

Dear ______,

If everything goes to plan, you’ll never have to read this. On the other hand and the even greater chance that things don’t go to plan, you still won’t be able to read this. I love you, ______. I can picture your face reading this. Close your mouth or a bug might fly in again. Don’t think I forgot when we visited the zoo for our bio class. I still have the video saved on my phone. I’m probably too late, right? I don’t care. In fact, I couldn’t care less. I love you more than I love myself or anything else in this world, and I don’t care if you feel the same. I just want you to be happy. I need you to be.

I’ve felt connected to you since the first day we met and I’ve loved you more and more every day after that. No matter how hard I tell myself that you will never feel the same about me, or even think and care about me half as much as I care about you, I can’t stop thinking about you. I care about you more than you care about me, and that’s okay.

You make me so incredibly happy, I can’t put into words how deeply I feel for you. You also drive me insane and make me the angriest, most frustrated, neurotic, and saddest person to exist in this entire universe, but I don’t care because it’s all thanks to you.

I will love you until the day I die and I promise you this with my life.

Please choose me. Love me. Be with me. I know it’s pathetic and hopeless and so fucking selfish, but I love you and I can’t live without you, ______. Choose me. Stay with me. Marry me.

Always and forever yours,

—Yoongi.

And with that, he slammed the album shut and buried his face into his hands, sheer agony, anger, pain, regret, and awe flooding every cell in his body. He started laughing. Not at himself or you, not even at anything in particular.

I guess I’m just laughing at how ridiculous this whole universe is. Fate an all. He tried reasoning with himself but was far from remotely sane. It felt like some big practical joke on a hidden camera T.V. show, like this wasn’t his real life, his reality. He begged for it to be a bad dream that he would wake up from any second now. He wanted it to be a nightmare.

But he never woke up.

If you had met in another time, another life, another world—how happy could you have been? In love? Together?

The steady beeping of the hospital monitor had become your new normal. Today was different though. You sensed it in your bones. It wasn’t a good feeling.

“Yoongi, you can’t die on me. I don’t want to be alone.”

He smiled faintly, trying to reach out and soothe your streaming tears. His skin was bleach white and his usually pink lips were tinted a sickly grey. He was dying and you couldn’t do a single thing about it.

“You won’t be alone. You have all of your family and—” He was cut short by your sudden outburst.

“I don’t want my family, I want you!” you sobbed, burying your face into his hospital gown. He held back tears of his own as he felt the fabric dampen on his stomach. “You’re only 27, Yoongi, you—you don’t—”

Pressing the palms of your hands into your eye sockets, you wouldn’t have been able get any more words out even if you forced yourself to. A stabbing pain spread in your lungs from the lack of oxygen, but you didn’t care. Your boyfriend, the love of your life, was on his deathbed and you would gladly take all the misery in the world, all the needles and knives, stitches and surgeries, broken bones, bruises and blood—every single piece of it if it meant that he would live.

“You don’t deserve to die, Yoongi...” you hiccuped.

He cradled your head against his neck, his half sitting up posture allowing your tears to flow down his collarbone. The last few months had been hell, but you refused to leave his side.

Every time he’d wake up in insufferable agony in the middle of the night, you were there with anything he needed: water, a bucket, damp towel, food, his medications, a nurse—anything and everything he needed, you were always there for him.

The two of you shared the last few months you had left constantly by each other’s side. It all felt like some sick joke. Six years ago, you had met the love of your life at a random coffee shop in Seattle and hit it off like sparks. You found out he was an architect major and finishing up his senior year just like you. He asked you out four months after you kept running into each other at the coffee shop, and moved in together five months after that.

Your relationship was absolutely perfect. Never in your entire life had you met a guy, let alone a human being, who was as selfless, kind, gentle, loving, and honest as Yoongi. There was a connection between the two of you that you couldn’t describe or frame into rational thoughts; you loved each other unconditionally.

It all came crashing down when he collapsed last year. It didn’t seem like anything major. He told you it was because of his anemia, but after insisting on making a visit to the hospital, the doctors broke the news to you.

After months of seeing him doubled over in pain and puking his guts out from all the medication and relentless testing, he told you right before your 5-year anniversary: he didn’t want to suffer anymore.

It took months of convincing you that he was okay with dying for you to even be able to look into his eyes. You couldn’t hate the man you loved for choosing to die peacefully rather than be greedy to live, but you had a hard time showing your full support and being okay with it. You don’t think you’ll ever be okay with it.

“I’ve lived a happy life, _____.” Recalling the memory as if it were yesterday, his voice was much stronger back then. “I have done everything I’ve ever wanted to do, seen everything, explored everywhere, and after meeting you, I know I can die without any regrets. My only regret is not walking you down that aisle when I had the chance.”

Pressing a kiss to his chapped lips, you couldn’t stop the ache that plagued your heart at the memory. It wasn’t over until it was over, so why did it still hurt so bad?

“______?” Yoongi whispered. “You awake?” He struggled to his head to face you, every little muscle in his body aching like a collective bruise.

You shifted your weight over to your side of the bed and propped yourself up on your elbow, studying his face one more time. “Do you need anything?” Talking for the first time after hours of crying stung, like rubbing alcohol was being poured down your throat.

His shook his head at you with a half-lidded gaze and lifeless smile. “I’m just a little tired, that’s all. It’d be nice if you could cuddle me to sleep.” You bit your lip to hold back the waterworks but let your smile shine through. He was the same Min Yoongi you’d met at that random coffee shop on a rainy Seattle day.

Opening his arms, he brought you safely into his chest, arms wrapped around you as tightly as he could with the little bit of strength he had left.

“______,” he sighed, drained from all the energy he’d put into making these these past few days worth it. “I love you.” He murmured the words against your temple like a prayer, breath tickling you ever so softly like the ripples of a cherry blossom petal falling onto the surface of a pond.

You looked up and saw that his eyes were fully open, but started to flutter shut again. He was using every bit of energy to keep them open and memorize your features. Kissing him tenderly, you felt your lips tremble against his. You didn’t want his last memory of you to be one where you were bawling your eyes out. Instead, you smiled as best you could and swiped your finger across his cheek as he leaned into your touch.

“I love you too, Yoongi. I love you more than anything in this entire universe we call home.” His eyelids drooped shut at your soothing lullaby, falling deeper and deeper into the comforting darkness of sleep. The weak beating of his heart grew quieter with each passing second.

“You can go to sleep, Yoongi,” you soothed while running your fingers through his thin hair. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” he mumbled through your hair with the last drop of strength he had left in his body. His breathing grew shallow and hushed. His hands that were always warm and kept you cozy during the frigid nights in your apartment were now stone cold.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat as you felt his chest rise and fall for the last time.

“I promise.”

Taking in a deep breath, the cold air burned your nostrils and filled your lungs with the crisp scent of snow. “Why do you believe in soulmates?” you asked. Handing him the sandwich bag, he shrugged.

“I don’t know. Just seems like something that makes sense.” Tearing open the plastic pouch, he took a bite and immediately sputtered. "How do you mess up a PB&J?”

You smacked his shoulder lightly and scowled at him. “I’ll have you know that I happen to make the best sandwiches in the world, Min Yoongi!”

“Mhm,” he nodded with sarcasm and a smirk. Might you add that he was still eating his sandwich and seemed to be enjoying it.

Pressing your lips together in a thin line, you ate in silence together. It was a snow day in Manhattan and Central Park looked stunning from your dorms. It was your idea to go out for a picnic, and since it was winter break, who better to ask than your dearest friend Min Yoongi?

“I can’t believe you dragged me out here for a picnic in winter wonderland.” His voice seemed grumpy, but it was probably because you hadn’t given him any coffee yet. Point made, you rustled through your backpack and pulled out a thermos full of piping hot instant liquid gold.

With a mouthful of bread, he reached out to grab the metal thermos but you pulled it back and wagged your finger at him. “What do you say?”

“Give me my coffee,” he droned. Widening your eyes at him in disapproval, he huffed. “Please?”

You stuck out your tongue and poured him a cup. “I’d be more than happy to!”

If he rolled his eyes any harder, they would’ve fallen out of his head.

Taking a small sip, the hot steam curled in contrast with the freezing cold air.

“So you don’t believe in soulmates?” He retraced his steps back to the former topic of conversation. Turning towards him, you followed his eye-line to the small pond down the hill. A sigh parted your lips.

“If everyone had a soulmate, we wouldn’t have heartbreaks.” Your sentence caught him off guard.

“Don’t you think your soulmate is out there somewhere?” he badgered.

You shook your head and finished the last bite of your sandwich. “If he is, he should have popped up three breakups ago.”

Yoongi couldn’t think of a witty comeback.

“Do you think your girlfriend is your soulmate?” you asked this time, tweaking the question to fit his current relationship status.

“No.” The response was instant and dry, much like the coffee granules you poured this morning. “I don’t think she is. Do you think Jungkook is yours?”

You admired the trail of your breathing as it steamed up into a small cloud. “Not a chance.”

The only sound that came after was the brushing of tree branches mute thud of leaves as the fell onto the snow. If you concentrated hard enough, you could hear the frozen pond crackle in the distance, melting away as the seasons began shifting for reasons beyond mortal comprehension.

The ocean of screams and thumping bass was deafening. Cupping your hands over your ears to try and stop your ear drums from bursting, nothing you did could drown out the sea of shrieking fans at a concert.

“Los Angeles!” a tall man greeted from the stage. “How are you all doing tonight?” He didn’t even need to talk to earn a shower of over-excited adolescent spirit.

Another guy who was slightly shorter in comparison brought the mic up to speak. “What do you say we start off the night with a countdown?”

“1,” another younger member started counting.

“2,” the one standing beside him said in a velvety voice.

Pointing their mics to the audience, they all counted, “1, 2, 3,” in unison and you shriveled into a ball of discomfort at the sheer volume.

“This is my favorite song!” your friend shouted as loud as she could, but to no avail.

Leaning closer to her, you shouted back, “What?!” Ushering you to look towards the stage, you didn’t know what you’d be getting yourself into when you agreed to go to a concert. You’d heard about BTS of course, who hadn’t—what you didn’t know was how your friend managed to snag two tickets in the pit. To make it even more painfully cliché, you weren’t that into their music as much as the entire world seemed to be.

You overheard a few seconds of their songs here and there while changing stations on the radio, and who could forget seeing their names plastered on every single news headline, Instagram post, and Facebook and YouTube ad that popped up into your field of view. It wasn’t that you disliked them, you just found it hard to obsess over a single group when there were hundreds of other musicians you enjoyed listening to; too many artists, not enough time.

Come to think of it, you couldn’t be bothered to keep up with celebrities or social media, period. In all honestly, it just seemed like a gigantic, disrespectful waste of time to be buried nose-deep in someone else’s personal issues and life. To each their own, of course.

The sudden change in music made you fall back in touch with reality. The melodic tune of a piano filled the entire stadium as the crowd erupted into another round of cries. Drawing your attention to the stage, a single man sat by a grand piano as his fingers danced across the wooden keys.

Call it your wild imagination or your cloudy head from the overcrowded stadium, but you swear he locked eyes with you for just a moment. He began singing, the words flowing from him like trails of ink scribbles composed of his own sorrow, joy, happiness, and his life up until this point.

He was completely mesmerizing. After the song was over, he bowed to the audience and made eye contact with you. You saw a droplet roll down his cheek as his gaze locked onto yours. He seemed to snap out of the cloud his head was swimming in and immediately stood up straight to get a better look at you. Was he crying?

Breaking his stare as an unfamiliar weight deep in your chest began to pull you down, you turned to your friend—at least, where you thought she was the last time you checked. Another song came on, this one sound like the loudest of them all.

“I have to go to the bathroom!” you tried shouting to your friend, but your voice was already gone. Not from the yelling and screaming of lyrics to songs you didn’t know, but from trying to get your friend’s periodic attention for the past half hour.

She paid no attention to you and kept dancing along with the blaring music. You were starting to feel sick. Maybe it was from swimming in a sea of overzealous crowds of people you hated on a daily level, or from the stuffy and cramped space that was nothing but suffocating—whatever it was, you needed to get out of here. You couldn’t breathe.

Saying excuse me didn’t work in this case so you had to shove past sweaty bodies a bit too aggressively for your comfort, but what choice did you have? You made it to the bathroom just in time and proceeded to puke your guts out in the only stall with a working latch.

It was official: you hated concerts with a passion and would never be coming to one any time soon. Thankfully, the queasy sensation that started earlier was now gone, but instead, it was replaced by a different feeling. Your heart started racing like a bullet train on an endless track headed nowhere. A balloon of air filled your chest cavity and made you choke on your own breathing.

Clutching your chest, your jaw clenched to fight back the urge to cry and closed your eyes tight. You started breathing like your doctor told you to whenever you started getting chest aches. In, out, in out, in out.

You hated concerts.

Yoongi was staring out the streaky window of the tour bus as rain clouds began to loom over them. The guys were quick to notice how weird he was acting towards the end of the show, like he had—

“Dude, did you see a ghost or something?” Seokjin asked with genuine concern woven in. Yoongi didn’t have any headphones in like he normally did, but he didn’t pay any attention to what any of the guys were saying. They didn’t piss him off or annoy him, he just couldn’t concentrate on anything right now. Right after his solo, he had to run to the bathroom before he puked onstage. He didn’t even eat anything a few hours before their performance, but maybe that was exactly why he got sick. Performing on an empty stomach helped combat his nerves, but he’d never had to pay the price until tonight’s show.

“Yoongi?” Hoseok prodded, poking his shoulder from far away with the selfie stick he used to livestream earlier. Better to poke the sleeping bear with a selfie stick from a safe distance than to let the bear sleep peacefully, right?

“Hm?” Finally he said something. The past two hours of silence since the show closed out was too weird, even for Yoongi. “What?”

“You okay dude?” Namjoon looked up from his phone and to his friend.

Yoongi nodded, slipping in a pair of earbuds and closing his eyes. He was exhausted and didn’t feel like answering their bound-to-be relentless questions. He wasn’t acting weird, he was just emotionally and physically spent.

They shrugged and went back to their business, leaving the grumpy one to his own devices. In reality, he didn’t have any music playing through the buds and just needed to drown out their chatter and think to himself.

He tried remembering your face in the sea of flashing cameras, light sticks, signs, glowing wrist bands, and who knows what else. Your partially agape mouth that was so utterly fixated on his performance, not the group’s. His brows knit together when trying to picture your smile, only to come to a dead end. There were too many phones shoved in his face and the swarm of people that flocked to him when he tried coming down the stage to get a closer look at you.

Yoongi grunted in frustration, but because his eyes were still closed, the boys assumed it was just another bad dream. He’d been having a lot of those these days. Taehyung refused to share a room with him when they returned home because he would always wake up to Yoongi thrashing around and screaming in his sleep. Tonight would without a doubt be no different.

Yoongi couldn’t get your face out of his mind, regardless of how hazy and unclear it was. Who were you? What was your name? Why did you come to a concert if you were only going to be there for a few minutes at a time? Why did you leave after his song? What did you think of it? Did you get home safe? After hours of divulging a plan to find out your identity, he surrendered to defeat.

It was as if the world was telling him to stay awake until he knew exactly who you were, where you were, and what you were doing at this exact moment.

He didn’t sleep at all that night.

Staring out his window, he pressed his cheek onto the cold glass and closed his eyes. The icy pane felt satisfying in contrast to his burning hot face. This time of year was Yoongi’s least favorite. Winter—the season where everything died and left nothing but freezing cold, thick, white blankets of snow.

The season you left him.

He grimaced as the memory resurfaced, fists clenching so hard his nails dug crescents into his palms. He wanted to scream but couldn’t find his voice to.

“If you want to leave, then just leave!” he yelled. Gathering the clothes littered beside the bed, he threw them across the room and landed by your feet soundlessly.

Your expression remained stone cold, gaze burning holes that glowed brighter than the sun on the angriest summer day. “Yoongi—” He was quick to cut you off.

“No, ______,” Holding his hand up, he was fuming. “If you want to leave, then leave. I don’t want you here. Just go.”

You opened your mouth to speak but it was no use. He wouldn’t listen.

“If you’re so happy with Namjoon, why don’t you just marry him?” Yoongi’s spit out with pure venom and hatred dripping from his voice. He started laughing, delirious from what he was processing. “You know what? Fuck you, ______.”

Pausing to instigate a reaction from you, you stayed mute with arms crossed over your bare chest. He was still sat in the bed and you hadn’t moved away from the door for the past five minutes he’d been venting.

“Yoongi,” you sighed, completely drained from the hours you had spent arguing with him. He couldn’t even look at you when you spoke. “We’re not dating. This wasn’t supposed to happen between us. You knew that, Yoongi—”

He started laughing even harder, hands covering his face in a manic daze. “And you expect me to believe that it he was only texting you?”

That’s all it was. Namjoon asked you earlier today and asked if you wanted to go out for coffee some time. You made the glorious decision to stay the night at Yoongi’s place and keep your phone unlocked right by the nightstand. It wasn’t long before he discovered the series of texts shared between you and Namjoon that dated back two months ago.

You’ve been sleeping with Yoongi for a little over a year now, but never made it official.

Apparently, it still warranted this kind of a reaction from him.

“We never said we were dating, Yoongi.” Reminding him of all the times he told you that he didn’t date and how he wanted to stay as fuck buddies, a darkness erupted from his eyes. “It’s been—”

“You think blaming a stupid label is what this is about?” He stood up and walked towards you, his smirk and upturned eyebrows making your blood boil.

“I found someone who actually cares about me, Yoongi.” You stood up straighter. “He doesn’t just use me for his personal gain and wants to know more about me, not just for sex or whatever the fuck we’re doing.”

“Who said I didn’t want to get to know you?” he shot back at you. “Did I say didn’t want out take you out on a date? When the fuck did I ever—”

“You did, Yoongi! You!” Raking your hands through your hair, anger didn’t even begin to describe the seething hatred that filled your veins. “You told me that this was just going to be a fuckbuddy thing. You said that you would never date because relationships were high school shit shows waiting to happen. You warned me not to fall in love with you well guess what the fuck happened genius?”

Each pronounced word you cursed at him was followed by a shove to his chest. Just as he was about to bite back, you were running on autopilot. You couldn’t take it anymore. Clutching your throat, you thought you were drowning, water flooding your lungs and rising up your throat until you were moments from being taken under.

“Do you know how many nights I spent crying myself to sleep over you?”

An odd look flashed across his face that you couldn’t piece together.

“The hours I wasted, wondering, begging, praying and wishing that you would like me back...” You felt tears well at the back of your eyes. “You never gave me a sign. You never said anything and you didn’t do anything, Yoongi, fuck—fucking hell. You never—” Taking a moment to breathe, your hand came up to shield your eyes, refusing to let him see you cry.

“You never cared about me, Yoongi.”

His expression morphed even more. “I never cared?” It was a purely rhetorical question. “I never cared? I never cared? Really?” You hung your head in defeat and picked your clothes from the floor. You didn’t need this. Not now, not ever, not anymore.

Another dry scoff came from his throat as you started dressing. “Okay, _____. I never cared. I worked my ass overtime and saved up enough money to buy you that necklace because I never cared. I drove for six hours all the way to see your performance and take you home because I didn’t care. I stayed up all night writing you that birthday card because I didn’t care. I’ve been sleeping with you for the past 18 months, letting you sleep over, making us breakfast, and spending quality time with you because I never fucking cared.”

You froze. Why was he telling you this now?

“It’s too late, Yoongi.” No it wasn’t. It was never too late. “You should’ve told me this when you had the chance.”

“What fucking difference does it make that I’m telling you this now?!” he erupted. “Let’s just fucking—” He tugged at his hair, finally feeling the exact flurry of conflicting emotions you felt. “God, ______, let’s just calm down and talk it out, okay?”

You grabbed your phone from the floor. The screen was shattered from when you threw it at the wall earlier. It almost made you chuckle. Your temper got the best of you and you ended up chucking it at the wall when Yoongi kept probing for more answers.

Why did Namjoon text you, when was this, why didn’t you tell me, what were you going to say, were you ever going to—

“We’re done, Yoongi.” Your decision rang firm and cold. As you turned the doorknob, he grabbed you by the arm and held you still, fingers digging into your skin like shingles.

“If you leave, we’re through, ______.” He deadpanned like you hadn’t just said that. “I mean it, ______. Don’t go.” Never had your own name sounded more agonizing to hear and make you feel like bile was coming up your throat.

You refused to turn away from him when your words followed, feet firmly anchored in the ground and staring through him like glass. “Goodbye, Yoongi.”

Snatching your arm out of his grip, he scoffed through his nose. His jaw was slack and his tongue prodded the inside of his cheek, biting his lip to the point where he nearly broke skin. This was it.

“I hate you.” You could barely make out what he said because you slammed the door on your way out. His knees buckled and he fell to the hardwood floor with a thud. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” he kept repeating to himself long after you were gone. Maybe if he said it enough times it would turn into the truth. “I hate you. I hate you.”

Yoongi cupped his hands over his ears and began rocking back and forth, continuing his mantra and willing them with all his might to become reality.

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

“I love you,” he finally said. “I love you.”

I love you.

“BP’s dropping, set up a drip!” The resident on-call was quick to gather all the nurses and they had to work fast.

“Book an OR! We have to operate now!” he shouted at anyone who was listening, pushing the gurney down the hall and making people move out of the way like oil in water.

Each doorway burst open as the doctors and nurses rolled you down each sector of the hospital, juggling around medical jargon and ordering everyone standing idle in the aisle to “Get out of the way!”

The nurses shoving the IV needles into your arms was barely a tickle compared to the other things you were focused on. Your body hurt. It felt like everything was being crushed but none of the pain was registering in your brain because of how much it was. Your eyelids weighed a ton and it stung to even open them. It hurt to breathe. Every time you inhaled, it seemed like a knife was digging itself deeper into the side of your chest, ripping through flesh and piercing each individual bone.

“Please do something!” someone shouted, probably at the nurses. As if that would do anything...

The sound of footsteps clapped like thunder against the floor tiles, running towards you as fast as they could. “You have to save her!”

A nurse that was about two feet shorter than him, managed to hold him back with an iron grip. “I’m sorry sir, staff only. We promise we’ll do the best we can.”

This felt familiar. Nostalgic, even. Dare you say it, comforting?

“Where the hell is Yoongi?” Jungkook asked Namjoon, bright red and dripping with sweat from carrying you on his back. He swore he would never use the line, “We’re lucky we live right next to the school’s teaching hospital” as a joke ever again.

Namjoon paced back and forth while on his phone, calling everyone and telling them to get to the hospital as soon as they could. “I don’t know, he’s not answering.”

“I’m sorry, your call could not be completed—”

“Shit!” Namjoon swore and kicked one of the plastic chairs, earning a few nasty glares from the nurses and patients.

“Jungkook!” Turning around, the two saw Jimin, Seokjin, and Hoseok running towards them.

“What the hell happened?” the oldest asked. “Is she okay?”

Namjoon had to lean against the wall for support. His head was spinning. He couldn’t find it in himself to say anything.

“They rolled her into an operating room a few minutes ago,” Jungkook answered, voice shaking like a child’s. “We don’t know yet.”

“Taehyung’s on his way here right now,” Hoseok signed in exasperation.

Jimin asked what was on everyone’s mind. “Where’s Yoongi?”

“He’s not answering his phone.” Namjoon filled in with a bitter voice, now oddly calm. “One of you guys should call him. Maybe he’ll answer if someone he doesn’t despise calls him.”

All of a sudden, Taehyung burst through the double doors in a hoodie and sweats, running over to where the five were lined up along the wall. “Namjoon!”

Panting like he’d just run a marathon, he didn’t bother catching his breath before asking what happened. “Have they helped her yet? What’s wrong?”

“We don’t know,” Jimin replied. “They haven’t told us anything yet.”

It was unclear whether he was talking about the doctors or Namjoon and Jungkook, but Taehyung didn’t bother asking what he meant.

Jungkook asked Taehyung what Namjoon refused to. “Did you call Yoongi?”

Taehyung shook his head. “It went straight to voicemail...” Behind him, Seokjin, Hoseok, and Jimin were all taking turns calling Yoongi, probably blowing up his phone with hundreds of messages, voicemails, and missed calls.

He never answered.

Yoongi was never a fast runner. He did P.E. in high school and sprinted 50 meters on the field whenever he needed to burn off some steam, but he never enjoyed running.

Running to the hospital made him hate it more than he thought humanly possible.

Each time his feet struck the concrete sent a shockwave up his knee, pins and needles pinching his nerves like no other injury he’d endured before. It was a miracle he hadn’t tripped over his own feet yet. He didn’t care, not one bit. He needed to get to you right now and if that meant suffering shin splints then so be it.

When he finally turned his phone back on, it didn’t take him more than two seconds to read the first message before he was sprinting out of his apartment.

59 missed calls

22 new voicemails

65 unread messages

______’s in the hospital

Every footstep after that was synchronous with each ring of his phone; a new text message, another phone call, a bunch of voicemails that no one ever listened to on a regular basis other than when you really had nothing else to do.

Yoongi can safely say that his lungs have never burned, ached, or pulsed more in his entire life than right now. His vision was blurry and he could hardly see straight, but he managed to make out the faint outline of Namjoon’s lanky frame. He would recognize him anywhere—it turns out people remember the first fistfight much better than they give each other credit for. However, this time, it was Namjoon doing the swinging and Yoongi being the receiving end.

Nonetheless, he didn’t expect a swift hook the moment he opened those hospital doors.

“Namjoon!” Jungkook and the others rushed to hold him back, nurses and surrounding staff calling security at lightning speed.

“It’s fine!” Yoongi held his hand up towards the staff and pinched his nose. Leaning forward, he felt blood trickle down his knuckles and into his mouth. The faint metallic tang took him back to the night he and Namjoon almost killed each other at your apartment.

The doctors looked at each other, silently debating whether or not they should have them kicked out. After a few moments of reading the air, they understood the nature of your situation and let it pass, just this once.

“Where is she.” Yoongi’s question came our more like a callous statement.

Hoseok’s hand came up to touch Yoongi’s shoulder but he smacked it away like he’d just been burned by a hot stove.

“Where the fuck is ______, Namjoon,” he growled, facing Namjoon head on blood-streaked face and all.

Namjoon didn’t say a word. He simply stared at the guy he used to call his best friend and waited. Waited for another question, an answer—hell, even a punch or a kick would suffice if it meant getting a reaction from Yoongi. A full minute passed in utter total silence and the others sat quietly in the surrounding chairs, monitoring the two ticking time bombs just in case things escalated quickly.

Seokjin tried to calm him down. “She’s in the OR. We’re still waiting for an update.”

“Glad you made it,” Namjoon’s voice cracked, practically spitting at him. “What took you so long, Yoongi?”

“Kim Namjoon,” Yoongi muttered through clenched teeth. “Where. Is. She.”

Namjoon began laughing, a livid flame burning behind his dark eyes. His chuckles were soon replaced by shallow breaths, gasping and coughing, until he broke down into sobs.

“She was going to see you,” Namjoon trembled, rage and sadness wrapping their tendrils around every fiber of his being. “—you unbelievable fucking idiot.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed into slits and his eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

Namjoon was sitting on the ground with his back against the wall and head buried between his knees. Lifting his head up, he kept his eyes focused on the floor tiles. If he looked at Yoongi, he’d be more than tempted to deck him again. This time, he wouldn’t stop after a single blow.

“She came over to my place and told me that she couldn’t be with me,” he reaffirmed. “Because she loved you.”

Yoongi’s world came crashing down. You loved him? You loved him back?

“She said she needed to go see you,” Namjoon continued. “I told her to hurry up and go before you fell asleep. I told her to go and she actually listened to me.” All eyes were on Namjoon now, anticipating what would come out of his mouth next.

Namjoon bit the inside of his cheek and covered his mouth, holding back his whimpers. “She ran outside before I could even say a proper goodbye and th—”

Jungkook broke. “I was on my way upstairs when I heard the car all the way down the street... ” His voice hitched on the truth, only now comprehending the gravity of their new reality.

“Lady blew a .19,” the older one sneered. “Said her drink was spiked but we all knew she was just fucking wasted and wanted to take her new ride out for a spin.”

The bustling background noise of the hospital was now mute. Deep down inside Yoongi’s heart, something snapped. Anatomically or physically, he didn’t know, but it was even more painful than anything he had experienced in his entire life. His fingertips began buzzing like static ran through them and the sounds around him grew fuzzy, as if he’d been plunged twelve meters deep into the darkest trench of the ocean.

Yoongi’s hand flew up to his chest, a tearing sound he swear he could hear echoing like a cannon ripple. His friends stumbled to their feet and screamed to any nearby medical personnel for help. Namjoon was shellshocked, frozen like a deer in headlights. He’d just seen your lifeless body get rolled into the hospital wing. Even though he refused to admit it, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he lost another friend today.

His ears was ringing like when he had the worst migraine back in senior year. Finals season, go figure. Yoongi snuck into your room and stayed there with you all night. Sure, you managed to get a little bit studying done.

“Fucking do something!” Taehyung screamed. “Help him!”

Yoongi kicked and thrashed at anyone who tried touching him, moaning and crying out until his throat went raw. An excruciating pain spread throughout his body. It felt like his muscles were peeling apart from his bones and his bare body was being dunked in battery acid.

Then came the pit.

It started with a numb cramp. Then, a hole opened up from deep inside his chest, swallowing all of his air and making it impossible to breathe. It was unbearable. He was going to pass out from the pain; he wanted to. Anything was better than this. God, everything fucking hurt and he just wanted to go to sleep.

The last thing he saw was a hoard of nurses running into the room across his and the sound of of defibrillator paddles charging. With all the blood streaked across your face, he could barely make out the scar on your temple. It was from sophomore year—you fell down the bleachers after a night of bad decisions and way too many drinks. If Yoongi hadn’t caught you, you probably would’ve snapped your leg.

He doesn’t want to remember what happened after that.

Another week passed before you decided to leave the house. It had been exactly 18 months since you moved here and yet, the city still felt foreign to you. Sure, you had a cozy studio apartment decorated well enough to remind you of home, a job you loved with all your heart, kind neighbors who treated you like a local, and not to mention a tightly-knit circle of friends you treasured more than anything.

So why on Earth did you still feel so undeniably out of place?

Pulling back the blinds, the sunlight streamed in like rays of heavenly light. It wasn’t supposed to be sunny today, but you weren’t one to complain. After weeks of staying cooped up in your own apartment and using “the holidays” as an excuse, your pasty complexion deemed itself worthy of some vitamin D and fresh outside air. You weren’t entirely sure how to explain it, but something was bugging you, willing you, to go outside.

Yeah, you definitely needed some fresh air if some weird gut feeling was what finally convinced you to go outside.

Throwing on a thick wooly coat you snagged from the thrift shop during your first month here, you had to slam the door shut with as much finesse and gusto as Houdini himself. Cheap apartments didn’t come without their share of cons, but you liked to think that your bank account thanked you each month.

Skipping down the street right after the snow melted was the perfect equation for disaster. That didn’t stop it from being fun. You were in a good mood today for some unknown reason. Everyone had their good days as much as they had their bad ones, didn’t they?

The warm smell of freshly baked bread wafted in the air. It flooded your nostrils with the most delightful, comforting, and delectable scent you’d ever had the pleasure of smelling. It also reminded you how hungry you were and that it was a bad decision to skip breakfast. You apologized to your wallet before venturing off to find the nearest café. At least it was cheaper than eating at a restaurant.

You lied. It was all in the name of really good coffee and you happened to know exactly where to find some.

The jingling of the door chime was something you had grown accustomed to over the course of 10 months. This was the only café that actually poured bottomless cups of black coffee and only charged for every two refills on lattes, cappuccinos, and other milk drinks.

“The usual I presume?” your favorite host offered, already getting a cup ready.

You smiled wide. “You know me oh so well, Jimin.”

Flashing you his signature grin and a cheeky wink, he got to work steaming the milk for your double-shot flat white. “Where’s Namjoon?” you wondered aloud. “Isn’t it his turn for the lunch shift?”

Jimin chortled. “It always blows my mind that you seem to know our schedules better than we do.” You rolled your eyes at his backhanded compliment; flattering because he appreciated how attentive and close you were with everyone who worked here, but mildly insulting because he was implying that you spent so much time here that you didn’t get out enough.

Finishing up cleaning the last row of plates, Jimin slung the dish towel over his shoulder. He beckoned you to come closer and you leaned over the counter. “Joonie has a date,” he whispered in your ear.

“I don’t see those hands moving, Park Jimin!” You’d know that velvety voice anywhere. “Don’t forget you’re taking out the trash later if Seokjin catches you!”

“Just keeping me company, Taehyung!” Sipping the top layer of foam from the red ceramic cup, you sighed in pure bliss.

Sticking his head out from the kitchen, his lips formed into a giddy smile. “It’s been a few days princess! How long did you sleep for this time?”

“Hardy har har,” you jeered, scowling at his never ending tirade of Snow White jokes. “At least I still get my beauty sleep.”

Taking mock offense to this, he didn’t get a chance to react before Seokjin snuck up from behind him smacked the back of his head with a wooden spoon. “Stop flirting with customers and finish table eight’s order, doofus.”

“We don’t open for another hour!” Taehyung wailed.

You suppressed the snort that almost escaped by taking another sip of your coffee. “Missed you too, Seokjin,” you greeted. He smiled heartily at you and waved before picking up the phone. Running a business while having your best friends work for you wasn’t exactly the best recipe for success, so to speak.

“So this ‘date’ Namjoon has,” you hummed. “Is she pretty?”

A pair of hands from behind you snaked their way your waist, tickling you into a fit of forced laughter. “It’s not good to butt your nose into other people’s business!”

You were too busy choking on your giggles, you couldn’t talk. After an incredibly long six seconds, Jungkook pulled away and greeted you with an innocent grin. His nose was crinkled the slightest bit and his eyes were inviting half-moons.

“That’s the least you deserve for leaving me with these idiots for the past three days...” he immediately broke into a pout.

At this, Jimin swung the towel off his shoulder and smacked Jungkook straight across the face with it. His reaction was straight out of a cartoon. If you hadn’t finished your drink beforehand, flat white would have spewed out of your nostrils all over the counter.

“Watch your mouth kid,” Jimin warned in a melodramatic voice, and even he was holding back a series of cackles.

“See what I mean!” Jungkook whined to you, tugging your sleeve and pouting. “They’re so mean to me and steal all the tips!”

From the kitchen, Taehyung tsked to scold the younger one and waved his spatula around for extra emphasis. “We don’t steal them, you’re just to busy chatting up all the customers to pay attention to the little details.”

Jungkook’s mouth contorted into a pucker and he started mouthing their words to mock them. You forced yourself to stay quiet and pressed your lips together to force back any reaction.

The ringing of the door caused you all to turn around. It was Hoseok and his—friend?

"______!” His voice was telltale surprised and ecstatic to see your face after a couple of days of absence. “Kook, Chim, Tae, guess who I brought?”

“Well well, and I thought we had seen our share of ghosts for the day,” Taehyung gawked, ignoring the pet names Hoseok coined for them in elementary school.

Jimin wore a look of awe. “You must be a vampire or something, you’re still as young and as pale as ever.”

“So I did get taller!” Jungkook blurted out like the child he still was.

The man standing beside him currently had his back turned towards you, focusing instead on the antique decor that adorned the walls, tables, chairs, and ceilings of this establishment. He wore a simple outfit, bearing nothing but a white hoodie, dark jeans, and frayed navy blue sneakers.

When he finally turned around, you thought your heart did a triple somersault and landed in your throat. Did you know him? Didn’t you know him It wasn’t as simple as the fact that he looked familiar, he felt familiar. Everything from his face, gaze, aura, energy, and even his scent engulfed you in a cloak of solace. You knew him from somewhere, yet you had no idea who he was or where he was from.

The moment he turned around, Yoongi was immediately drawn to you. Everything else flew out the window and you were the sole focus of his mind. A forcefield of curiosity and yearning overrode all of his thoughts and he was consumed by one wish and one wish only: he needed to know your name. He needed to know who you were.

With wide eyes and an invisible string pulling the two of you towards one another like polar ends, you didn’t notice that he had made his way right in front until Jungkook coughed up a lung.

Hoseok broke the silence in the air. “______, this is Yoongi. Yoongi, this is ______.”

He was still drinking in your features. the tiniest details of your uneven dimples, delicate lips, baby hairs, down to the way your eyes sparkled and twinkled like the brightest stars in the sky.

Likewise, you were sketching out every single detail of his face; the almond-shaped creases of his eyes, pouty lips, flawless skin, and of course, the half a second he let his gummy smile slip past his lips.

“Hi,” you finally murmured, quieter than the sound of a cricket chirping in the dead of night. A small grin crept along the edges of your lips as he parted his lips to speak.

Yoongi couldn’t stop the smile that lit up his features. “Hi.”

“Psst—” Taehyung craned his body over the serving window to whisper in Jimin’s ear. “What’s up with them?”

Jungkook, Jimin, and Hoseok shrugged, looking back and forth at each other, then at you and Yoongi.

“It’s really nice to meet you.” So this is what it’s like...

He held out his hand, the distance between you staying the same yet growing shorter each second.

Taking his outstretched hand into yours, you slowly closed your fingers around his, admiring how they seemed to fit perfectly like a lock and key. It was as if a spark had ignited between your two bodies, embers flying like fireworks underneath the pitch black darkness of night. How were his hands so warm?

Any remaining drop of apprehension you ever had was now gone, replaced by a bright, glowing light that outshined everything else.

“The pleasure is mine.” Finally.

The air hung heavy with nerves as you and Yoongi stood absolutely silent, fingers still entwined with one another. Hoseok coughed from the serving counter. When did he get there—

“You gonna catch up with us or leave us hanging again, Yoongs?” Jimin teased, a mischievous smirk painting his features. Letting go of his hand, the feeling of cold air grazing your palm was instantaneous. Jungkook slung his arm over your shoulder jokingly. “What have you been up to, Yoongi?” He was desperate for some kind of attention, he was willing to piss his best friend off for it. You tried to refrain from giggling.

“What am I, cold turkey?” Taehyung complained from the back. Crossing your arms to shelter your hands, you notice how icy they’d become in the span of a few seconds. Yoongi climbed over the counter in the blink of an eye and whacked the chef behind his head.

“Show some respect you goofball, you haven’t seen me in months,” the older scolded. Chuckling, his gums were the slightest bit visible as he smiled wide, another wave of familiarity swallowing your senses.

You stepped outside five minutes after the guys started chatting and catching up with each other, awkwardness overcoming your ability to carry on a normal conversation. Yoongi’s presence made you—flustered, to say the least. Ideally and in any other social situation, you would have stayed and introduced yourself to him further, but you felt like you were already intruding on a private conversation.

After an hour of pacing back and forth and pretending to be busy with a phone call, you went back inside and told the guys you had to get back home. “I forgot I had some extra papers I still haven’t sorted through,” you lied through a forced out dry laugh. “Don’t want my boss to kill me.”

The guys waved goodbye, and Yoongi looked like he’d been slapped across the face. “It was nice meeting you,” he managed to pry out. “See you around.”

Flashing him a tight-lipped grin, you scooped up your things from the counter, bid the boys farewell, and hurried out the door. The moment you set foot out the door, it was as if something tugged the hems of your coat. Did you forget your phone? Bag? Journal? Wallet?

Patting yourself down thoroughly, you shook it off as just another misled gut feeling. You hadn’t visited the café in a while and started the day off on an off foot in the first place.

You were a few meters from the café when someone called out to you—shouted, actually.

“______!” Their footsteps drew closer, each dull thunk on the pavement instead reverberating like a crisp knock on hardwood.

Turning around, your looked down at the figure hunched over directly in front of you and gasped. Yoongi was panting heavily, shoulders rising and falling as he supported himself by resting his hands on his knees. Patting his back out of habit like you’d done for your high school teammates after a track meet, he reached out and gripped your forearm for support.

Biting back a chuckle, you had to ask. “Are you alright?” Had he really sprinted that far just to catch up to you? Damn, you really did leave your phone back there, didn’t you...

Clearing his throat, he stood up straight and tried catching his breath. “Never been better, thanks.” He was still holding your arm. “I was going to ask if you—if you uh, God this is weird—,” he stuttered, eyes falling to the concrete pavement beneath his feet.

You tried your hardest not to interrupt. While he kept tripping over his words like an adorable nervous wreck, you relaxed your arm so that his hand slid into yours, slotting together perfectly like two matching puzzle pieces. Feeling the warmth radiate from his touch, you saw his expression ease immediately. He squeezed your hand. When you returned the favor with a shy grin, it gave him the courage to speak.

“Do you want to go out for dinner sometime, ______?” he finally asked, your name flowing off of his tongue like the most beautiful song you’d ever heard. Yoongi’s eyes glimmered with anticipation and hope.

Looking deeper into his entrancing gaze, you didn’t have to think twice. “I would love to, Yoongi.” His heart exploded in his chest when you said his name, a trapped butterfly escaping from its cage with a vivid flurry of colors and radiating light.

Love at first sight always seemed like nothing short of a fairytale, but you had a feeling that this came pretty damn close to it.

Soulmates weren’t always romantic lovers. Sometimes, they were close friends or merely acquaintances. More often than not, they even lived their entire human life without finding each other, the closing chapter of their lives spent with their loved ones, twin flame, an unlinked soul, or in complete solitude.

Each life was given to you for a reason. Every experience, painful memory, death, birth, and ounce of love and loss you endured throughout all of your past lives was entirely out of your control. It was neither your destiny nor fate to remember the lifetimes with or without your soulmate, and doing so would be a waste of the time you were given in this current life.

Fate, karma, destiny, divine logos, universal divinity—call it what you want.

We do not remember our past, nor are we better off predicting our future.

All we have is the present moment and ourselves, and that is more than enough.

5/5/2020—3:43:01 AM

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guksauce · 4 years ago

Text

~Mocha~

One Shot

Pairing: Knj Barista x Reader AU

Word Count: 1,398K

Rated: E

One Shot Warnings: Flirty Namjoon, Coffee Genius, Extra long descriptions for no reason DON’T COME FOR ME.

Author: @guksauce

Notes: 💜Let me first just thank Kim Namjoon for being an absolute amazing person. For being a king. For being our president. For loving us. He is and forever will be protected. 💜 And thank you to those of you who give this story and myself all the love 💖

Soundtrack: Click here!

It's a chilly mid-September tuesday night in Seoul, South Korea. You’ve had one of the toughest days you've had since you moved here about seven months ago. You hate your job. You struggle with the language. Your “friends'' still call you “the new girl who doesn't talk much”. And the boyfriend you had for just over 3 months called just in time for you to open your chicken salad sandwich you packed for lunch and hadn't realized it probably went bad about 2 days ago, to promise it wasn't you but him. So, since midnight youd been venturing around town in hopes of clearing your mind to no avail, passing closed store after closed store until you spotted a cafe across the street just as dark clouds rolled over the city and started to sprinkle drops of rain.

The shop emitted a golden glow, the sweet scent of roasted coffee beans and cinnamon rolls, the earthy smell of flowers that had long since closed their buds on the patio, and a small white neon sign that reads “Open 24 Hours”. Inside the walls were painted half natural forest green and half italian cream, accented only by the oddly shaped and dimly lit lanterns hung from high ceilings. The floor is all original wood, magazines and comics lean in every direction in wire baskets nailed to the wall. In the back, a few drunk friends laugh at each other's jokes and share a bottle of Soju. In the corner a string of fairy lights illuminates 2 musicians. One of them sits at an electric piano. The other stands with a golden saxophone pouring from his puckered lips. Together they play a gentle jazz tune that sets and perfects a warm ambiance.

The bar has been intricately carved with designs you associate with 1920’s Gatsby. Rows of jars with rich chocolate colored coffee grounds line the counter and it's easy to see with a glance out the large front window that the steaming espresso machine has done a wonderful job of fogging the glass. But behind the bar is a man teetering on a stool with a book in one hand and a spoon that stirs idly in his mug in the other, the silver lightly tapping the ceramic. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed and features thoughtful and pensive, so obviously enchanted by whatever world he had transported himself to to even realize anyone had entered. You didn't mind. It gave you a moment to stare without it being too awkward. Silver hair fell lazily over the crown of his head. Sharp eyes held soft onyx irises. His sleeves were rolled up on his white knitted sweater revealing a warm butterscotch tan on his arms. The rips in the knees of his black jeans showcased his toned thighs but casually complimented his modern black Oxfords. He looked clean and comfy in a way that made you want to crawl onto his lap and cuddle him. God knows you needed it after the day you’d had.

With careful steps, you approach the counter and climb onto one of the stools, pulling off your layers until you are left in your favorite sage green hoodie. “I admire your ability to get lost and enjoy it.” You say and peak over the bind of his book. You catch a glimpse of the gold name-tag attached to his sweater and read the name Namjoon in your head. In a rush he drops the book and scoots his mug to the side, steam and a fresh herbal smell lifting and wafting in your direction.

“And miss all this exciting stuff going on in here right now?” He motions to the relaxed atmosphere around the two of you and you smile.

“Are you a smartass to all of your clients?” You follow his teasing demeanor. Namjoon leans his elbows on the counter and you count to three to keep from staring at how the strands of hair fall from where they had been tucked behind his ear.

“Only when they look like they need to smile.” This time you dont stop yourself from staring, the dimples deepening in his almost childlike cheeks making you all but melt and giggle. Slipping off of his stool, Namjoon readys’ a mug under the machine and distorts his features into something out of a TV show and very awkwardly questions you.

“May I interest my lady in one of many forms of coffee this evening?” The voice and accent he's chosen is awkwardly broken british and makes your entire body cringe, but it's ridiculously endearing and impossible to say no to. You nod and perk up in your seat to get a good look at the process of coffee making as he begins to turn knobs and scoop ingredients into different cups and spoons. You don't bother telling him that the extra pump of hazelnut he put in smells too nutty, or that the roast is too dark, or that you've never had whipped cream on your coffee before, because the concoction he sets in front of you looks like a dream.

You're not sure how much time passes or how much of your life you've explained to him by the end of your third coffee together. What you know is that you never want to leave his presence. Forever, it seems, he expresses to you how much of a philosophy buff he is. Gets teary eyed talking about the many ways he's done his best to live his life through the wise words of men and women he admires. He teaches you words in Korean you'd never had the opportunity to use, as well as words he was starting to call you when the sky started to lighten up and the rain poured a little heavier.

“Yeppuda. Pretty.” He would say softly. “Aleumdaun. Like you.” He’d been shameless in his use of them. You had no idea what he was saying but you were enamored by how pretty they sounded coming from his mouth. If you scoot any closer to the edge of your stool, you were going to fall off, but the more you sat in front of him, the more that feeling of wanting to cuddle him itched at your insides. Especially when the blue haze of a new day was shading his face in different ways, casting new light here and there.

“What does that mean? Aleumdaun.” You repeated and he laughed at the way it came out a jumbled mess as though you’d swallowed a mouth full of water. He adjusted in his seat, and leaned close enough to you that, had you leaned forward just half an inch, your noses would have touched. Maybe even your lips. You give yourself a second to imagine how he might taste. Lips like cocoa. Tongue like whipped cream. White mocha and peppermint candy cane breath warming your cheeks.

“Beautiful...like you.” Just as the words slithered out between those perfect cocoa lips, the blush firing up your cheeks induced a dark, melted chuckle to rumble deeply in his chest just as the bell hanging above the entrance rang out, bursting the all consuming bubble of the rainy romantic ambiance you both had created for yourselves. Blinking rapidly, you clear your throat and suck your bottom lip between your teeth, chewing nervously as the woman enters awkwardly, tying her apron around her waist. The stool under Namjoon creaks softly as he greets her and wraps a scarf around his neck, shrugs his denim jacket over his shoulders and helps you into your coat.

The sun breaks between the clouds just long enough to cast a warm ray of light through the window, a sparkling mix of dust and brown sugar particles swirl in the air. Silver strands of hair catch the reflection and glow like moonlight and you suddenly absolutely cannot stand the thought of having to part ways with this enchanting man.

“Lets have breakfast.” Maybe it's too forward of you but the longer you stand here with Namjoon, the better you imagine the future of your life and you were not about to deny yourself the magical connection you shared with him. He almost looks surprised but his features soften and his dimples beg to swallow you whole as he takes your hand and answers with a voice made of honey. “I thought you’d never ask.”

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daddychims · 5 years ago

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Offside Pt 8

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Series Masterlist!

Genre: Smut, Soccer AU, College AU

Pairings: Soccer Player! Jungkook X Sports Trainer! Reader

Word Count: 2k

Other BTS members all make a cameo as well because I’m an OT7 Trash!

You work as a sports trainer, providing basic first aid and injury management for the Hanguk University’s soccer team. Going with your mundane life of caring for the dozen of guys hurting themselves in the soccer game takes a turn when one of the guys catches your eyes. It’s not his breathtakingly good looks or his muscular athletic body usually seducing girls at the campus that catches your eyes. But the action plan in your kit, indicating he is diagnosed with Asthma is what draws your eyes time and time again to the Golden Boy of Hanguk University.

Warning: Slow burn, eventual smut, Taehyung being a freaking tease the whole time, Fuckboy!Jungkook, Asthmatic! Jungkook , mentions of episodes of Asthma, Take your Ventolin kids, Take your medications kids!

Your hands hesitate over the doorbell for a few seconds before finally pushing the button and hearing the melodic sound echoing.

"Coming!"

You hear a familiar voice that is different to the person you expect would be behind the wooden door and your suspicion is confirmed when the door opens to reveal the half naked guy standing across you.

"Kim Tae?"

"Heyyyy Sugar," He smirks, immediately reaching across and grabs you by the waist to pull you to his bare chest "Did you miss me so much?"

"What are you doing here?" you push past him inside the house with an annoyed tone

"You don’t need to be so low key about it babe," he smirks as he wraps his huge arm around your neck and pulls you closer again "I'm sure you heard I moved in with Jungkook." he hesitates as he leans closer to your ear "Isnt that why you came here?"

"Where is Jungkook?" you roll your eyes looking around the unnecessarily huge place “Im here to see him.”

"Jeon?" Tae asks furrowing his eyebrows "since when you're interested in Jeon?" he stands against the door with his arms across his chest

"I just have a homework I need to do," You state turning around to face him "Now do you wanna call him for me or should I walk around your house and find him myself?"

"What homework?" He raises an eyebrow "If you're talking about the type of homework at least 5 other girls rock up here every week, his bedroom is down the hallway on the left."

"Your brain is really wired like that huh?" You ask in an unimpressed tone "I just wanna have a conversation with him, I'll just wait in the living room."

"He's at the gym." he replies walking past you

"Which one?" You ask quickly rushing after him and grabbing his arm to get your answer "The one down the road?"

"Upstairs!" he rolls his eyes "The gym is upstairs!"

"You guys have a gym in your house?" You ask in surprise

"Jeon does," He shrugs "Now do you wanna wait in my room sugar? I'll go call Jeon for yo-. "

"No thank you," You immediately object "Where can I find him?"

He points at the stairs with a vicious smirk and you nod and make your way down the hallway, walking past the room with the daunting memories of Jihyo's birthday night. You remember how you almost turned to one of the girls Jeon boned in his senior year if you didn’t react quickly enough that night.

You shiver from the thought and walk up the stairs. When you stop and look up, your eyes widen at the sight of Jungkook sitting on a Lat Pulldown machine, with a girl straddling his lap.

You can only see the girl's back, specifically her purposely plump bottom spreading over Jungkook's lap.

You immediately look up at the guy who's staring back at the girl sitting across him, beads of sweat dripping down his thick neck, arm muscles flexing as he manipulates the weight up and down.

You gulp at the sight, immediately feeling a shiver running down your spine at the excessively lewd sight of the two.

You immediately regret not waiting downstairs and just letting Taehyung call him, his vicious smile now have a whole new meaning for you.

You're hesitating whether you should make your way down the stairs and pretend you've seen nothing when Jungkook's gaze stumbles on you and you make a momentary eye contact.

The weight snaps up with a loud thud as he releases his firm grip, immediately standing up and making the girl across his lap fall over.

Your eyes widen as you immediately turn around and make your way down the stairs. You're bearly reaching to the bottom when you hear his voice

"Wait,"

You pause and try to think of a way to escape facing Jungkook when you hear another voice

"What happened Sugar?" Taehyung shows up from the end of the hallway and looks at your blushing face "Weren't you looking for Jeon? He's right there." he points up at the top of the stairs with a mischievous smile, knowing exactly what you observed on the second floor.

You return an angry glare to Tae before turning around and watching Jungkook walk down the stairs "Jeon, I was looking for you."

"Yeah I just saw you," he mutters nodding his head in a confused manner "Why did you run away?"

You watch the guy in disbelief, wondering if he is acting dumb or he actually is dumb enough to not know why you avoided the situation.

"N-Nothing, I just thought you're busy, so didn’t wanna get in the way." you explain with an awkward smile "I can come back."

"No," he quickly objects "I'm not busy, Lets talk."

"Ooh, what is this tension I feel here," Tae smirks watching the two of you "Is something going on between you two?"

Jungkook clears his throat before reaching for your arm and muttering "Lets go."

You walk behind the guy without objection as you hear Tae in the background yelling "THAT’S NOT FAIR, YOU'RE COMING TO MY ROOM NEXT SUGAR ALRIGHT?"

You both ignore the guy's childish remark as you enter his room, Jungkook immediately closing and locking the door behind himself which makes you furrow your eyebrows in suspicion .

When he notices your reaction he immediately explains "There are quite a few people living here, I don’t want them to barge in."

You nod, placing your bag on his bed, setting your phone down on his mattress while you try to look for the item you came all the way here for.

"So why are you here?" He asks walking closer and sitting on the other end of his king sized bed

"I wanted to talk to you," you say while finally finding the green coloured journal and pulling it out of the bag "About this!"

You watch him spare a look at the journal, remembering the conversation you both had with Dr Kim the other day before scoffing and looking away from you "And I thought-" he pauses midway through his sentence before bringing his eyes to you and muttering "I already told Dr Kim that I'm not doing that."

"Jungkook you're being unreasonable," You scold in a stern tone "Its not like you'll lose anything by doing this. If anything this might actually help you perform better in the finale."

"It doesn’t matter," He sighs looking down at his knees "My lungs were fucked as long as I remember. Taking the medications doesn’t change anything."

"Are you really fine with being benched?" you ask softly

"I'm not gonna be benche-" he snaps back “Lets say I’ll be benched. Why does that matter to you anyways!?”

You stare back at him, the sudden question taking you off guard. Why does this matter to you so much. Why do you care if he’ll be benched because he doesn’t take his medication. You’re not even licensed and this is already far out of your scope of practice as a mere sports trainer for his team.

“I-“ You start the sentence before you think it through enough to complete it and immediately regret your decision “never mind,” you sigh stuffing the journal back in your bag "I just wanted to try my best." you say in an annoyed tone.

You quickly take the sachet full of the medications you received from the office reception earlier and place it in front of him on his bed "This is yours," you hesitated before adding "Up to you if you wanna take them or not, but if you changed your mind just let me know. If you decide that you wanna take the medications, I should check on you once a week and record your dosage intakes."

You pause for his response but after a few seconds of silence you sigh and shift on the bed to leave. You're about to climb down his bed when your phone lights up and attracts both you and Jungkook's attention.

"So when am I getting my next dose of neck massage Miss placebo effect?" -Jimin

"Maybe you can massage me somewhere else this time? ;)" -Jimin

You reach to grab you phone when Jungkook immediately reaches before you to read the text carefully.

"Hey, give me the phone back," You reach but the guy quickly hides it behind his back before staring right into your eyes

"I changed my mind." he states in a serious tone

"W-What?"

"Lets do this stupid journal or whatever it is," he said firmly "Instead I have a condition."

"Really?" He nods and your eyes immediately light up "What is the condition?"

"Block Park Jimin," he says through gritted teeth "No, I'll block him right now."

"J-Jungkook, What are you talking about?"

"If you block Park Jimin, I'll do the journal with you," He suggests " you can even check on my more than once a week if you want."

"You want me to block him?" you ask in a lost tone "Why?"

"Haven't you heard?" He clears his throat "We don’t let the anyone from Hanguk team hang around the SNU guys specially the girls. The fact that you're friends with Namjoon Hyung is already a massive issue."

"What?" you laugh "Is that a joke? I've never heard of such rule. How come no one ever mentioned that to me?"

"Its an unspoken rule," Jungkook says matter of factly "If anyone is involved with Hanguk team, they aren't allowed to hang around the SNU guys for the duration of seasonal games. Otherwise they might find out about our team tactics and strategies and that messes up our chance in the finals."

"I'm so confused," you blurt out looking at him in disbelief "so you're saying I would act like a whist blower and tell the other team about Hanguk team's training strategies?"

"I did not say that," he says defensively

"You implied it," you respond immediately

"I'm just saying, we all go weak after a good fuck and say things we might regret," he mutters unimpressed looking at you "so lets not risk it yeah?"

"I-I'm not fucking Jimin," you stutter "where did that come from?"

"I didn’t say you are," he says firmly "I'm just saying you might."

"S-So what If I wanna fuck him," you retort angrily "Aren't you all doing it anyways? Why is it only not allowed for me!"

"I simply choose my girls from our campus," he shrugs

"So if I shag anyone from our campus, its all good?!" you say mockingly

"It cant be that hard," he shrugs his shoulder "You have a whole football team to choose from, I'm sure Taehyung is not the one guy you give a boner to when you rub them in your duties."

"Jungkook-" you shudder at his lewd words "just stop talking please."

"Fine," he smirks watching your blushing cheeks, findings the flustered side of you amusing to watch "What do you say? Can I block him now?"

You look at him with suspicion before muttering "I'll check on you three times a week, plus the 2 training days I see you on the field."

"Fine," he sighs defeated "It’s a deal?" he brings the phone in front of him to continue with his task "What's your passcode?"

"W-Wait …" you reach for the phone hesitantly "I need to at least let him know-"

"No need," he rolls his eyes "he's probably texting 10 other girls simultaneously, he wont even notice."

"You must have a lot of experience," You raise an eyebrow as you enter your passcode and hand him the phone back

"Don’t compare me to that punk," he rolls his eyes "I don’t play girls."

"Oh really?" You scoff "I really hate to remind you but I just watched you dry humping someone in your gym, Jeon. What do you call that?"

"Incorrect, she was dry humping me" he replies unaffected "I was just doing my weekly arm workout."

"Wow," you shake your head in disbelief "you're something else."

He finally finishes his task, blocking Jimin from your phone before bringing his eyes to you "Why? Were you jealous?"

"W-What?" you laugh awkwardly thinking he's just messing around, but he just stares at you with his piercing gaze waiting for an answer "W-What do you mean?"

He shifts on the bed, closing the space between the two of you on the bed as he leans over to your face "Did you wanna be in her place?"

You look at him with wild eyes, not knowing why those words pool arousal between your legs. He stares into your eyes before shifting them to your lips and back to your eyes after a few seconds.

"Hmmm? Did you wanna hump my thighs like a dirty little girl?" he murmurs and his eyes darken in lust as he watches your lips quivering nervously against his lips "Is that what you want Y/N?"

You gulp, heart thumping against your chest as you feel another rush of arousal tainting your panties "J-Jeon-"

"You just need to ask nicely," He smirks, his hot breath fanning your lips "and you'll be over my thighs in a few seconds."

You stare back at him for a moment before finally pulling yourself together and muttering "I t-think we had this discussion before," you gulp trying to steady your voice as you quickly grab your bag and shift it over your shoulder "That I don’t wanna hook up with you."

You watch with surprise as his dark lustful eyes turn disappointed, but he quickly hides them by looking away from you and shifting back his body.

"I'll call you for the next weekly check, until then make sure you take the medications as prescribed."

You walk to his door and twist the doorknob but it doesn’t open. Only then you remember that he locked his door when you both entered the room.

You turn around to tell him to unlock the door when a gasp leaves your lips

"Jungkook," you breath out as he presses your body against the door and leans against your face again

"You sure?" he raises an eyebrow, his earlier dark gaze starting to settle back in between his lids again "that you haven't changed your mind since our last discussion?"

"I-oh" you part your lips but a breathy sound leaves your lips when you feel his hardness against your thighs and his smirk grows on the corner of his lips finally receiving the reaction he wants from you.

Hey everyone! Hope you're doing well!

I know its been SOOOO long since I updated this story!

but this self isolation is allowing me to get my life together and get back on some writing as well!

Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter!

I'll be back soon!

Love ya'll!

#Jeon Jungkook #Jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x female reader #jungkook x female reader #Jungkook x female mc #jungkook scenario #jungkook fuckboy #jeon jungkook x you #Jungkook smut #slowburn #bts smut #Jungkook is a fucking tease #jungkook soccer player #jungkook soccer au #jungkook soccer #jungkook athelete #daddychims

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ellewritesathing · 5 years ago

Text

So Close - S.S. XLI

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Masterlist Prev. | Part 41

Word-count: 6.7k+

A/N: not to like shamelessly self-promote but like. you guys might like this prompt i did for stiles 👀

You couldn’t sleep. Even with your friends safely back in your life and Stiles asleep next to you, you couldn’t sleep. Eventually, you rolled onto your side and watched the rise and fall of Stiles’ chest as he snored. You smiled and reached over to play with his hair. His heartbeat slowed after a little while and his snoring became a bit softer.

Taking your hand back after a while and lying down again, you pulled up your shirt and ran your hand along where the bullet hole should have been. It was freaky; your skin was perfect. You’d been injured internally plenty of times and healed but this was the first time you’d had a proper external wound. It healed slowly at first, better than a human but nothing to write home about, and then Deaton gave you blood. It made you feel sick. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

“Hey,” Stiles said softly. When did he wake up? He yawned and moved closer, putting his hand on top of the one you had on your stomach. His thumb grazed where the wound should have been. “You know I didn’t mean what I said earlier, right? My mouth kinda moves before my brain does sometimes.”

You smiled. “Yeah, I know.” You squeezed his hand before turning back onto your side to face him. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did, though. I mean, it is pretty weird.”

“You could never be weird to me,” Stiles said. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. “That was, like, ridiculously lame. I’m sorry. I just meant … you know. I’m usually the one being maimed, not you.”

“Yeah and it hurts like a bitch,” you said with a sharp exhale and a roll of your eyes.

Stiles laughed and lifted his hand to your face. “Yeah, the worrying isn’t that great either. You wanna trade back?”

“Kind of wish we could give up both,” you said with a small smile.

Stiles shifted and pulled you into his arms. He kissed the top of your head and sighed. “At least, for now, we’re both safe. Neither maimed nor worried.”

“I like the sound of that.” You found his hand again. “Almost as much as your use of ‘nor.’”

“You liked that, huh?”

“Yeah, it really distracted from the blatant lie that neither of us is worried right now.”

Stiles laughed and then it was quiet for a moment. You could hear Noah’s heart beating in his sleep down the hall, but Stiles’ beat louder. His fingers drummed your arms in the silence. You didn’t want to ruin the moment, but you had to tell him what happened.

“Theo wants me in his pack,” you said. No use sugar-coating it. Stiles’ drumming stopped. “He called me the shadow wolf. Said that I was more like them than I was like you guys.”

“He’s wrong,” Stiles said instantly. You could almost hear him frowning. “You know that, right?”

“The thing is … I don’t think he is wrong,” you said quietly. “With all the chimeras - even before we knew they weren’t like us - I felt bound to them. Like whatever they’re made of … maybe I am too. I- I’m not going to join them. I hate Theo. And even if I didn’t, I could never leave you or Scott.”

Stiles was quiet, working hard to choose the right words. As much as you loved him for it, if he didn’t say something soon, you were going to throw up. When he did speak, he didn't start asking the questions you knew were bouncing around in his head. All he said was: “You promise you’re not gonna leave?”

“I promise. No matter what.”

With that out of the way, Stiles relaxed. Still, you waited for him to say something. To ask what you meant, maybe even what it felt like to 'be bound' to the chimeras. But he was quiet, so quiet that you thought he’d actually gone to sleep until he said, “I’m gonna kick his ass.”

“Can I shoot him first? I’m still pretty pissed off about that.”

“Of course. Then you can hold him down while I kick him in the-”

With that colorful image in mind, you went to sleep with a smile on your face. Unaware of Stiles lying awake and anxious next to you.

---

Usually, after half of your group got injured and while you were making plans, things were at least a bit quieter for a few days. Unfortunately, the Dread Doctors weren’t so kind as your other foes; you’d only been shot yesterday and now you were racing down the highway with Scott and Stiles, chasing after the Beast behind a group of police.

“Unit Five heading northwest on Crescent reporting an incredibly large … something,” Clark said over the radio.

Another deputy responded, “Unit Nine to Dispatch, I think I’ve got eyes on the same thing. Some kind of rabid animal.”

“Unit Five to Nine, trust me: That’s no animal,” Clark said.

You laughed and unbuckled, leaning forward to poke your head between Scott and Stiles in the front. “She’s not wrong.”

“Yeah, but-”

Scott was cut off by Strauss coming in over the radio. “Unit Six to Dispatch, we have a situation downtown. Multiple fatalities.”

The voice of the dispatcher sounded cold compared to the overwhelmed officers. “Copy, medics on the way. Do you have a perp insight, Unit Six?”

“Negative,” Strauss said. He sounded overwhelmed. You guessed as weird as Beacon Hills was, not many people knew how to react after a werewolf attack. “Looks like a 10-91E. Animal attack.”

“10-4, can you say what kind of animal?” the dispatcher asked.

Stiles pulled out his radio before Strauss could answer. He also pumped the accelerator and you held onto Scott to keep from sliding back into your seat. “All units stay back. Do not engage,” Stiles said. “I repeat, do not engage.”

“Stiles, get off the radio,” Noah snapped. You almost laughed as Stiles handed you the radio to put back. Still, Noah added, “All unit alert: Wait for back-up. Repeat: No one goes near this thing.”

“Unit Five reporting a sighting on Hill Road southbound.”

“Unit Nine. I’ve got it turning off Oakridge, southbound on Beachwood.”

“All units, this is Dispatch. We’ve got a 911 call with an additional sighting on Mitchell.”

“Wait a second? Beachwood to Mitchell?” Stiles asked.

“It’s headed back for the hospital,” Scott said.

“Mom’s working tonight,” you said. “I’ll call her. Stiles, you gotta tell your dad.”

Stiles grabbed the radio instantly. “It’s headed to the hospital. Dad-”

“Stiles, get off this channel,” Noah said.

Stiles started arguing with his dad and you bounced your leg as you waited for your mom to answer her phone. The first call rang out so you texted her and tried again.

Melissa sounded tired when she answered. “Hey, honey, we’re pretty swamped at the-”

“Mom, you’ve gotta evacuate the hospital,” you rushed out. She started arguing but you talked over her. “Whatever the Beast is, it’s heading towards the hospital. And it’s going to kill people.”

You fell back into your seat as Stiles changed course towards Beacon Memorial. He was going as fast as the Jeep could manage, but the drive felt agonizingly slow. It was made worse by the constant updates from the police radio. The latest being a man on fire running into Beacon Memorial.

When you eventually did get to the hospital, it felt abandoned and eerily similar to that night with the durach and a dying Cora Hale. You shoved those thoughts aside when a gun cocked behind you, overridden by your instinct to pull Stiles behind you.

“Jesus Christ.” You let out a breath when you realized the threat was only Noah. He held his index finger to his mouth and shushed you.

As much as you loved Noah, you could have strangled him right there. Once again, you shoved those thoughts aside when the lights flickered and snarling rose in the distance.

“Fourth floor,” Scott said.

You all nodded and headed up as quickly as you could. Noah took the lead, followed by Scott and then Stiles - you’d insisted on taking the rear in case anything snuck up on you guys.

The fourth floor was ruined. Almost none of the lights still worked (luckily, not a problem for you and Scott), the electricity crackled through torn-open wires, and parts of the ruins were on fire. You wandered around the dark halls until something flew down the hallway in front of you. Since you noticed it first, you pulled Stiles into you and Scott pulled Noah back just before the fireball roared past.

It hit some partitioning and the flames went out. That wasn’t a random fireball; that was Parrish. Cut, charred, and disoriented Parrish. Parrish with glowing eyes.

His eyes extinguished as Noah made his way over to him, but you couldn’t focus on their reunion. Something had thrown Parrish across the fourth floor. Something big.

Scott walked ahead of you, but soon you found a paw print in the dust. The two of you didn’t need to say anything to know that you were going to follow the trail. The paw prints started changing, turning into something smaller and more human. Eventually, you found a sneaker print.

It struck you as odd that it would be a shoe print and not a footprint. Parrish was made out of fire and completely naked when you found him, and the Beast was made out of shadows. Maybe it was just different. Parrish wasn’t a chimera. At least you didn’t think he was.

“Scott …” You weren’t sure what you were going to say.

“I know,” he said with a sigh.

---

Once again, you and your friends were gathered around the island in your kitchen talking through the logistics of a crazy plan. The only thing that made this time different from all the others was the fact that Lydia was missing.

“We get into Eichen, we get into the Closed Unit, we get Lydia, and we get out,” Stiles said, summarizing his (already very long, very detailed) explanation.

“And we have to do it all of this while getting past orderlies, guards, electric door locks, and a Mountain Ash barrier,” Scott said.

“You guys have a plan for all that?” Malia asked.

Stiles pulled out a keycard. “I stole this off an orderly when I visited Lydia.” He paused, looking over at the card. “But it’s useless ‘cause they reset the codes each night.”

“So why did you take it?” Kira asked.

“He’s building up to that,” you said quietly, taking your eyes of Stiles to look at Kira.

“The only way to get Lydia out of Eichen is to make that keycard work again,” Scott said.

“And how are you going to do that?” Liam asked. You held back a smile.

Stiles held out a hand. “We’re getting to that, okay? Just listen.” He spun the laptop around to show you guys a data table. “I pulled all the history off the keycard. Two weeks ago, there was a brownout and the security system rebooted. During a reboot, all of the keycards revert back to a default code. So, if we trigger a reboot …”

“The card goes back to the default code,” you said. “All the keycards work again.”

“But how are we going to cause a brownout?” Kira asked.

“That’s your part,” Scott said with a hopeful smile. “You’re going to draw power from the mainline, but only enough to cause the brownout.”

That’s where Stiles jumped in to ruin their moment. “But not a blackout. If you do that, you send Eichen into lockdown which would be bad. Very, very bad.”

You touched Stiles’ arm lightly to get his attention. He was freaking Kira out. Stiles looked at you with an expression that said he was sorry, and you gave him an encouraging smile. He got a little carried away sometimes but he always meant well.

Scott, forever oblivious, kept talking and tapped on the blueprints that covered the island. “There’s an electrical room behind the reception counter,” he said. “The main power line goes into two breakers that run power to all of Eichen.”

“Okay, slight problem,” Kira said, looking ready to have a panic attack. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“That’s okay, you have time to practice,” Scott said with another trademarked hopeful smile.

“Let’s say all this goes perfectly,” Malia started in a voice that said she expected none of this to go perfectly. “How does the brownout get us into the Closed Unit of Eichen?”

“The system takes five minutes to reboot.” Stiles looked over at Malia. “In those five minutes, all the alarms will be turned off. And the keycard should work-”

“And then Liam, you, me, and Y/N get Stiles to the gate of the Closed Unit,” Scott said.

“After that, Stiles is on his own,” you said. Stiles reached for your hand under the table. “He’s the only one of us who can get through the mountain ash barrier.”

“And when we’re gone, all anyone’s going to think is that there was a reboot of the security system caused by a brownout,” Scott finished.

“So, uh … any questions?” Stiles asked.

They all started talking at the same time. From Liam: How do we get into Eichen House in the first place. Malia wanted to know what the worst-case scenario was. Kira asked what happened if she couldn’t trigger the brownout.

“Okay, admittedly, a lot could go wrong,” Stiles said, holding up his free hand in surrender.

“Everything could go wrong,” Liam said.

Stiles' open hand turned into a fist as you tilted your head. “Biscuit,” you said softly. Liam shrugged and started defending himself when Scott started talking.

“Guys, if we don’t do this, we lose Lydia,” Scott said. “She’s going to die in there tonight. And she might take a lot of innocent people with her.”

“We can do this,” you said. Your friends didn’t look convinced. “Okay, we’ve done a lot worse. At least this time we have a plan.”

---

Eichen House still freaked you out, but you could only imagine what it felt like to Stiles. So many bad things had happened to him here, and you had the feeling that more bad things were still going to happen. Then again, maybe the paranoia was coming from the fact that you were inside a body bag and lying next to an actual dead body.

Parrish was surprisingly good under pressure; when the guard made him open the bags, he was completely calm. Your heart spiked at the sound of the first zip being undone, but then Parrish started opening yours and you got ready for a fight. The fight never came. The guard valued his dinner too much.

Once you were in the morgue, you had to wait a few minutes before any of you could do anything. Stiles' heart was beating out of his chest. Admittedly, so was yours. You tore the bag open without waiting for the others, but they didn’t need any more encouragement after they heard you breaking out.

“Oh my god,” Stiles said between gasps of air. “Never again.”

“How much time do we have?” you asked as you got to your feet. Liam was closest, so you helped him out of his bag and to his feet. He mumbled a thank you as you waited for an answer.

Scott checked his phone. “Fifteen minutes, starting now.”

“Then let’s get started!” Stiles started fumbling to get out of his bag and fell to the floor. “Ow! Jesus.”

You hurried over to help Stiles up. He muttered obscenities the whole time but he accepted your help nonetheless. Scott got out of his bag safely, and then you just had to wait for the orderlies to leave the hallway. As soon as they were gone, you were on the move.

You wanted Scott to take the lead but Stiles knew this place better than any of you did, and personal knowledge trumped an hour spent studying floor plans any day. The best you could do was follow behind him and keep a careful watch for anything that might be a threat.

The orderlies blocking your way to the closed unit were definitely a threat.

You pulled Stiles back and Scott grabbed Liam. The four of you pressed yourselves against the wall in an attempt to hide, and the memory of doing something similar with Isaac, Erica, and Stiles popped into your mind. That felt like such a long time ago.

“What are they doing here?” Scott whispered.

“I don’t know,” Stiles said, stealing a glance down the hall. “Their rounds should’ve ended five minutes ago.”

Liam was decidedly less subtle with his look at the orderlies. “I can take them,” he said.

Both Stiles and Scott glared at him for a moment. “No one’s taking anyone,” Scott said.

“How much time?” Stiles asked, cutting Scott's alpha moment short.

Scott checked his phone and sighed. “Three minutes.”

“I’ll just knock them out and hide the bodies,” Liam said. He was adorably oblivious.

Stiles looked so close to slapping him that you instinctively reached for his hand to calm him down. “Oh my god, please stop,” he said.

One of the patients banged on the glass and scared you all out of your mini-argument. “Did you talk to the doctor?” he asked.

“What?” Liam whispered.

“Did you talk to the doctor?” he repeated. You looked over at Stiles uncertainly. “I haven’t had my medication. I need ten milligrams at 8am, 15 milligrams at 1pm, and no more than 20 at dinner.”

“We’ll get the doctor,” Scott said.

“Doctor Fenris?” the patient asked. Another beat of silence and you hoped that your nod was enough to calm him. “Doctor Fenris.” Then he started crying. He hit the glass as he said, “They took Doctor Fenris.”

“Guys-” You flinched when he hit the glass again. “He’s going to blow our cover. I can take the blame and get the orderlies out of here.”

“No way, you’re not going anywhere,” Stiles said. “Scott, do something.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Scott whispered.

The patient stopped banging on the glass, but he was still distressed. “I haven’t had my medication. I need to see the doctor.” Stiles looked down the hallway. The orderlies were coming closer. “They took Doctor Fenris.”

“Somebody shut him up,” Stiles said.

“I need to see the doctor!”

“Shut him up.”

You pulled your hand away from Stiles before he could argue and stepped into the hallway. “I told you: I don’t know where the doctor is, alright?” you said to the patient. “I’m just looking for my brother- nurses, could you help me? This place is like a freaking maze.”

“How did you get here?” one of the orderlies asked, roughly grabbing hold of your arm.

“I was looking for my brother. They said he was moved to another unit and that they’d take me to see him but no one ever came.” You shook your head and gave them a very clueless smile. “I’m sorry. Is this area, like, restricted or something?”

The orderly that had your arm looked ready to bite your head off but the other one just shook his head and gave you a tired smile. Either he wasn't paid enough or people wandering around the halls was a common occurrence.

“Let’s take you back to the reception area, okay?” he said. “They can sign you in and track down your brother. You can come to see him during visiting hours tomorrow.”

You forced a laugh and started following them down the stairs not too far away from the gate that your friends would need to break through in a few seconds. “You’re the nicest person I’ve run into all night,” you told him, careful to smile at the grumpy one too.

You carried on with your charade all the way back to the reception area, and then you gave them an annoyingly over-the-top thank you. They smiled and told you to wait for the nurse behind the counter to come back. You did not. As soon as they were out of sight, you made a b-line for the electrical room.

Malia immediately grabbed you and threw you against the wall as soon as you opened the door. She looked confused to see you but still held onto you.

“Relax, it’s just me,” you said, holding your hands up defensively.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. "You're supposed to be with Scott and Stiles."

“The dummies almost got busted,” you said with a small shrug. “I fixed it and came to check on you guys. Hey, Kira. How’s it going?”

Kira looked away from her small opening in the door and gave you a small smile. “Could be better. I don’t know if these guards are supposed to be here. How are we going to get out?”

Malia let go of you and the two of you walked over to check out the guards. “We don’t want to set off any alarms until Lydia is out,” she said.

“You’re right. Maybe we could-”

You stopped talking when one of the guards came in over the radio. The perimeter guard hadn’t checked in. You looked at Malia when the two guards rushed out to see what caused the delay. She shrugged and closed the door.

"Not our problem," she said.

Kira leaned against the door to get a better listen, but you and Malia didn’t need to. You heard the nurse loud and clear when he told someone that visiting hours were over, and then you heard Tracy tell him that they weren’t there to visit.

“Shit,” you whispered.

They pulled the nurse across the counter and slammed him to the ground. Tracy wanted to finish him off, but Theo said they were on a schedule and it was better to leave him. You, Kira, and Malia held a collective breath until the chimeras left.

Malia was the first one out the door and she slapped the nurse to get him to wake up. It didn’t work but at least his heart was beating.

“It’s started,” Kira said, looking down at her electrified hands.

“Then we need to get you out of here,” you said. You reached out to grab her arm but stopped when you remembered how she fried Scott. “Let’s go.”

“But what about the others?” Kira asked.

“They should already be back at the morgue,” Malia said. “We need to go.”

Kira took a second to decide and then jumped over the nurse and the three of you made a run for the morgue before Kira messed up Eichen’s frequency again. The others weren’t there, so you hoped they’d gone to the van instead. The alarm started blaring before you could share your theory.

You grabbed the sides of your head and collapsed in on yourself. Malia grabbed your arm to pull you out and reached for the doorknob, but it was electrified and both of you got electrocuted as a result. To top it off, the alarm still made your ears bleed.

Malia took a deep breath once she got back to her feet. “Lockdown,” she said.

You were still cringing on the ground when Scott started roaring. When your body got to its feet, it felt like being possessed again; you weren’t the one who moved your body. But once the brief discomfort was over, your head was clear and the alarm didn’t hurt so much anymore.

“Something’s wrong,” you rushed out. “I need to go help them.”

“No,” Malia argued, turning back to the door as the lights went out. “We need to get out of here.”

You were still arguing when Kira started lighting up again. The buzzing of the electricity didn’t freak you out so much as how worried she looked. She was terrified of messing things up again.

“I don’t know how long I’m going to last,” Kira said.

“How did you stop it before?” Malia asked.

“Scott carried me outside, which almost killed him,” Kira said.

“I’ve already died. It’s not so bad,” you said. You shrugged. “I can take you out.”

“Maybe we could try grounding her to something,” Malia said. “Lydia was teaching me about circuits before-”

You tackled Malia as a bolt of electricity shot out from Kira and hit the door where Malia had been. You held onto her as Kira’s lightning struck every metal surface it could find.

“You guys have to get out of here!” she yelled.

“We’re not leaving you,” you told her.

Kira hit one of the body holds as she turned her back to you. You and Malia got to your feet as Kira cried, “I should’ve stayed in the desert with the Skinwalkers. I can’t control this. I’m never going to be able to.”

“Kira, it worked,” Malia said. “You saw it work. You controlled it enough to cause the brownout. You can stop it.”

“I can’t!” Kira turned to glare at you and her eyes glowed an angry golden color. “Go!”

Even if you wanted to, an escape wasn’t possible because Kira electrified the entirety of her side of the room. Malia pulled you closer to her again and you both waited for the electrical storm to pass, careful not to touch anything conductive.

The storm passed as quickly as it started.

“Kira?”

Slowly, you both got to your feet, but then you had to pull Malia back from grabbing Kira’s unconscious body. She argued with you but you shook your head.

“She’ll kill you,” you said.

“She’s right,” Josh said. You both pulled away from Kira to focus on him. “Electricity is still coming off your friend. I can feel it from here. But I can help her.”

“Why?” Malia asked.

“Because I need your help.” Josh stepped away from the door and revealed Corey bleeding out in the hallway. “With him.”

“Oh my god, Corey.” You started forward when Malia caught your arm. She didn’t trust them; you didn’t blame her. “Mal, we’ve gotta help him.”

Malia let go and you rushed over to Corey. You tried to lift him but he was in too much pain. Josh took Corey’s other side and looked over at you. “I knew you’d help,” he said.

You didn’t know what to say, so you just hurried to get Corey on one of the exam tables. He was in so much pain. Almost his entire body was charred. He must have gotten caught up with Parrish.

“Why isn’t he healing?” Josh asked.

“Maybe he can’t. Maybe it’s too much,” Malia said.

“He’s going to die, isn’t he?” Josh asked.

“His heartbeat is getting slower,” you said. “But I can try to take away his pain. It could help.”

“It might even get him to start healing,” Malia said generously. “But we’ll only do it if you help Kira.” More sparks flew and you all ducked. “You said you could help!”

“Yeah, but it’s not like taking voltage from a car battery,” Josh argued. “She’s got a lot more power than that.” Corey groaned on the table. “Are you two going to do something or not?”

“Mal-”

“After you help her. I don’t trust you,” Malia said.

“I don’t trust you either!”

“Josh, do you trust me?” you asked. You’d never been close before, but you were something else now. “You said you knew I’d help him. I will, I promise.”

More sparks.

“We go at the same time,” Malia said, snapping his attention back to her. “Deal?”

Josh nodded reluctantly and walked over to Kira. You and Malia held each of Corey’s arms as Josh knelt over Kira. “On three?” he asked. “One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

The lights started flickering as Josh absorbed Kira’s electricity, but it was the least of your concerns after only a second of taking Corey’s pain. Until now, you’d never understood the phrase ‘blinding pain’ but with your vision blurring and your entire body burning, it had new meaning.

But Corey’s heart started beating again. Rapidly. He was breathing. Kira gasped for air on the floor but it was almost impossible to hear over Josh’s screams.

Between you and Malia, Corey’s pain faded after a minute. Josh managed to get Kira conscious and not electrified. You stayed with him but Malia went to check on Kira and Josh came back to Corey.

“Anybody know how we’re supposed to get out of here?” Corey asked, sounding scared and hurt.

“This place is still in lockdown,” Malia said.

“But it’s not just locked,” Kira said after shooting a look at the door.

“Yeah, I can feel it, too,” Josh said.

“Well, what are we supposed to do?” Corey asked. “Just wait here?”

“We had a backup plan,” you said. Malia didn’t look like she wanted you to tell them, but you did anyway. “Mason is supposed to reset the transformer.”

“How’s he gonna do that?” Josh asked, at the same time that Corey asked if you meant his Mason.

“He’s got the blueprints of the building,” Kira said. “And he has the full map of Eichen’s electrical system. All he has to do is get into the transformer shed behind the building.”

“Don’t worry. Mason knows exactly what he’s doing,” Malia said.

You had to smile to yourself. Thinking back to your first few weeks with Malia when you couldn’t stand her and she said that she would leave you in the desert, you almost couldn’t believe how much she’d grown.

Malia and Kira kept huddled by the body holds while Josh rushed to the door to wait. Everyone was healing now, but you still felt ready to throw up. Taking away Corey’s pain had taken it out of you and if you didn’t drink some blood soon then you weren’t going to be much of a help to anyone. Surprisingly, Corey stayed with you by the exam tables. You heard the shutters on the windows roll back and then Josh pushed the door open.

“He did it!” Josh said.

“We gotta get to the Jeep,” you said, hopping off the table and running out with Kira and Malia.

It didn’t take long to get to the parking lot, and even less time to get to the front and pick up the guys and Lydia. You tossed the keys to Scott as you got out and asked if Lydia was okay.

“No, and we need to go,” Scott said. “We need to get Lydia out of here.”

Before he could get very far, Parrish collapsed onto the Jeep’s hood with claw marks all over his back. “Sorry, but she’s coming with me,” Tracy said. She held onto Lydia, no doubt paralyzing her as she did.

“Okay, Tracy. Just wait,” Scott said. “You don’t know what’s about to happen.”

“I’m taking her. That’s what’s happening,” Tracy said. “And none of you are going to do a thing-”

Electricity crackled and Tracy collapsed. Natalie stood behind her with one of the guard’s nightsticks in her hands. You and Stiles reached out to catch Lydia, but you faltered and he caught her.

“Could somebody please get my daughter out of this hellhole?” Natalie asked.

You helped get Lydia into the car with Stiles in the back. She looked awful, and you could smell the dried blood and gore in her hair. It was nothing on her fear though, nothing on Stiles’ fear either.

Scott drove as fast as he could, but Lydia’s heart was beating too quickly. Without any warning, she let out a scream that burst your eardrum closest to her. Heightened senses meant you were weaker when it came to loud noises like that, and Lydia's scream wasn't like any other loud noise. Stiles started bleeding and the mirrors cracked. You yelled at Scott to drive faster.

Even though the drive to the animal clinic was stressful, helping Deaton treat Lydia was even worse. Your brain was addled by the scream, and she kept screaming until Deaton injected her with mistletoe, straight into the spot where she’d been trepanned. Her final scream shattered all the windows in the clinic but you reacted too slowly.

Scott protected Lydia but Stiles tackled you to the ground, bits of glass sinking into his back.

“Stiles,” you said softly, hands reaching up to his face. The side of his face was still bloody from Lydia’s screams. “What are you-”

“Someone has to take care of you,” he said quietly.

You were both snapped out of your moment by Scott trying and failing to wake Lydia up again. You held onto Stiles’ hand as the two of you joined the others by the table. You couldn’t even hear her heartbeat.

She let out a low moan as her heart started again. Lydia looked terrified when she opened her eyes again but she held onto Stiles’ other hand when he reached for her.

“Are you okay?” he asked. She held onto him and nodded quickly. “You’re okay.” He took a deep breath. “Do you want to try to sit up?”

Stiles helped Lydia sit up, wincing slightly from the glass, and she looked around slowly. Her eyes landed on Natalie in the doorway. “Mom?”

“Oh, honey.” Natalie rushed over to Lydia and pulled her into a hug. She looked relieved for the first time in weeks.

“They saved me,” Lydia said weakly. “Stiles saved me.”

Natalie looked up from Lydia to make eye contact with Stiles. “Thank you,” she said. After her blow up the day before, you knew it meant a lot to him for her to apologize.

Stiles smiled at her to let her know that everything was fine, but then he winced again and ruined his heroic image. He still looked pretty heroic to you, but Natalie was a mother and all she saw was a broken boy covered in glass.

“Let’s get you home, huh?” Natalie flattened Lydia’s hair and kissed her head. She looked ready to cry when she touched Lyd’s trepanation wound. “You can take a bath and we can watch The Notebook. Hmm?”

“I can come with, if you want,” Scott offered with a smile.

Lydia nodded, not bothering to hide the tears in her eyes. She thanked you on her way out and soon it was just you, Stiles, and an awful lot of broken glass.

“Sit with me,” you said gently, tugging on Stiles’ arm to bring him to the exam table. It was so reckless of him to shield you like that but you couldn’t be mad at him. Not when he'd gotten hurt protecting you. “Do you want me to take your pain while I take the glass out?”

“And here I was thinking you wanted to makeout with me to say thank you for saving you from all that glass,” Stiles said with a lazy smile as he watched you get Deaton’s tweezers. You gave him a look and he laughed. “No, I can handle it.”

“You sure?”

Stiles nodded and you bit your lip. You weren’t sure if you had it in you to take his pain away, but still. Taking out all this glass was going to take a while and it was going to hurt.

You started with the shards furthest away from his spine, doing your best to ignore his wincing. The closer you got to his spine, the worse his pain got. You put your hand on his shoulder and tried to take his pain away like you did with Corey, but you pulled your hand away when it started burning.

Thankfully, Stiles was too wrapped up to notice your blunder, but it was pretty hard not to when your hand started shaking. The glass clattered into the metal dish with the other shards and you took a deep breath.

“Hey, you okay?” Stiles asked, looking over his shoulder at you.

“Yeah, just-” You took a breath and squeezed your eyes shut. “Just a bit light-headed. It’s been a while since I’ve had anything to drink.”

“Oh,” Stiles said softly. He looked down for a second and then used his hands to turn on the table to face you, no doubt opening some fresh wounds in the process. “You know you could do it if you wanted to.”

You frowned. “Do what?”

“Drink my blood,” Stiles said. God, when did this become your life? “If you can’t wait until we get home … you could do it.”

“No. No, I couldn’t,” you said. You took a step back. “Stiles, I would kill you. And even if I could control it - which I can’t - I could never ask you to do that.”

“But you didn’t ask, I offered.” Stiles reached for your hand and you felt so guilty for putting him through this.

“I know, but I- I can’t risk hurting you,” you said.

Stiles was quiet for a second. He looked down and drummed on the table for a second. “Malia told me you don’t heal without it.”

Snitch.

“Yeah, but I’m not the one that’s hurt right now.” You sighed and took a step forward to press your forehead to his, your hand holding onto his neck. Your thumb ran across his neck. “Let’s just get you cleaned up, alright?”

Stiles was so still, but eventually, he took a breath and nodded. “Okay,” he said softly. He kissed your hand before you pulled away to finish cleaning him up. He took in a sharp breath when you pulled out the largest (and, thankfully, the last) piece of glass. You apologized repeatedly but it just made Stiles laugh and then wince. “Hey, at least it's over now,” Stiles said in an attempt to comfort you.

You laughed and put the tweezers down. “Close. We still have to clean the cuts if you don’t want an infection.”

“Maybe I want an infection. I could get superpowers,” Stiles said between yawns. You walked around the table and he pulled you into a hug. His face was in your hair when he mumbled, “Do you think it’ll scar?”

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” you said. You pulled back and ran a hand through his hair. “This part will be quick, okay? Can I take your shirt off?”

“You can take my shirt off any time, babe.” Stiles leaned back and gave you a lazy grin which made you laugh despite the horrible night you’d had.

“Slow down, Stilinski. Let’s finish this first.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t call me ma’am.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed the open button-up off his shoulders so he could take his arms out of the sleeves. You lifted the bottom of his gray t-shirt and threw it at him when he made another flirty joke.

Cleaning and bandaging the cuts went a lot faster, which was a relief because you were exhausted and Stiles must have been freezing. When the last of the bandages were on his back, you leaned in and wrapped your hands around him.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said softly. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Let’s go home. Do you have a shirt in the Jeep that I can bring you?”

“What’s wrong with my other shirt?” Stiles asked.

“It’s torn and covered in blood,” you said as you pulled away.

Stiles shrugged and pushed himself off the table. “You just want to see me walk around shirtless for a while.”

“You know me well, Stilinski.” You took his hand in yours and lifted it to kiss him again. Stiles rolled his eyes but he pulled you closer anyway, only letting go so you could lock up the animal clinic and then to pull on a sweatshirt.

Exhausted and worn out from the night, you fell asleep almost immediately as Stiles drove home. You weren’t sure what it was about the Jeep that did that to you; maybe the familiarly worn seats or how Stiles pumped the heat all the way up, or maybe just the way Stiles would drum on the steering wheel and play his favorite song on repeat. He was one of the only people who you trusted, and the Jeep was one of the only places you still felt safe.

Part 42

Tagged: @ietss @used-avocado

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles slow burn #stiles stilinksi imagine #so close #teen wolf #teen wolf au #teen wolf rewrite #mccall!reader

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httpjeon · 6 years ago

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04. hot bot ― jungkook (m.)

jungkook/reader | android!au, hotbot!au | smut, angst, fluff

wordcount: 5.1k

contents: ATTEMPTED MURDER, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, dirty talk, praise kink, light cockwarming, choking, rough sex, soft sex, tit slapping, clit slapping, lots of kisses and caressing

― synopsis: you make your decision. but was it really the right one?

note: this is it, yall! ... i wonder what that ending means?

blog masterlist ― series masterlist

There was a heavy beat of silence, you took a moment to glance over to where Jungkook was sitting on the floor. Bleach was playing but his eyes were completely empty and blank as he watched the animations flash across the screen.

You could remember the nights that Jungkook would sneak out of bed to watch Bleach when it came on at midnight on television. Even though he wasn't caught up on the series enough to understand what was going on. The show brought him so much joy and now he didn't even seem to register that the TV was even on.

It was sad.

"What do you think?" You asked softly, keeping your gaze on Jungkook.

"It's not my decision to make," Yoongi replied calmly, not giving you even a hint on what he was thinking. His response frustrated you but also reminded you that you couldn't make you choice based on someone else's opinions.

As you gazed at the empty shell that was Jungkook, many thoughts passed through your brain.

Just as with any person, or...think, in his case, capable of thought -- or once was capable, he deserved a chance, right? He deserved the chance to live as he wanted and as he deserved. But you didn't want the two of you to be forced to live on the run or in hiding because there was the chance you would be arrested and he would be terminated.

Is giving a chance to a robot, a chance that could most definitely go wrong, worth the potential of spending your life in prison?

And what if something went wrong? What if you became responsible for the death of other because you caused Jungkook to go defective and he killed people? Could you live with that?

As Yoongi's eyes glared into you, awaiting your decision, you felt in your heart what you had to do -- what you wanted to do.

"Let's do it,"

"Do you have tools?" Yoongi asked, following you when you led him to the closet where you kept things for storage.

Since you were a girl who lived alone, you had taken to keeping some tools around yourself to fix things up if you were able to. You were relatively handy and it was much cheaper buying tools than hiring someone for $1,000 so they could fix a leaking pipe.

You were tense but Yoongi seemed as cool as a cucumber. There were many thoughts and fears flowing through your mind but you made no move to stop Yoongi as he began to set up on the couch behind where Jungkook was still sitting.

He didn't even acknowledge you when you moved around him. Perhaps he went into sleep mode? The old Jungkook never did because he enjoyed being...alive.

"Jungkook," Yoongi spoke, voice as empty as Jungkook's eyes. The robot turned his head to look over his shoulder at Yoongi.

"Yes?" He responded monotonously.

"Can you take off your shirt?" Yoongi asked, confusing you.

Jungkook immediately did as he was asked, pulling his shirt off and dropping it onto the floor beside him. Mindlessly, you went over and collected it. You played with it for a moment, keeping a watchful eye on what Yoongi was doing.

First, he began messing with Jungkook's activation button -- glowing blue to indicate his active status. To your shock, the skin around the button began to peel away when Yoongi pulled the little LED indicator out. It was almost like the indicator was holding in the seams -- keeping his skin connected and on his body.

Beneath the skin was a a mechanic exoskeleton -- wires and metal everywhere along with blinking lights and screws of many types.

As Yoongi picked up a screwdriver and began pulling out screws and unhooking wires you noticed that Jungkook seemed to have shut down. His eyes were closed and his head was hanging low with his chin against his chest.

"Y-You know what you're doing, right?" You asked softly, hugging Jungkook's discarded shirt against your chest.

Yoongi paused in his work to glance at you through the mess of his black bangs.

"Of course I do," Was his easy answer.

You inhaled deeply and decided that you didn't want to watch Yoongi finish this work. You didn't want to watch him pick apart Jungkook and possibly cause an end to lives -- be it yours or others.

You had managed to get a two loads of laundry done, the only sound in your apartment being filled with the washing machine, dryer, and the sound of metal being moved as Yoongi worked. You were growing sleepy, closing your eyes where you stood in the kitchen as you made a small pot of coffee. You didn't want to fall asleep before Yoongi finished his work. You wanted to be awake for the end result.

As you sat down at your kitchen table, both hands wrapped around the mug of coffee you drank Yoongi walked in. His hands were covered in grease and oil, fingertips marked black and a little smudge on his cheeks from where he pushed his bangs away. He didn't say a word as he sat down across from you. You offered him your cup, wanting to wait to hear the result for as long as possible. You were nervous.

Yoongi took a sip, cringing slightly when it was too bitter for his tastes before handing it back.

"I'm finished," He said suddenly, making you chuckle at the announcement.

"I figured," You took another sip, mentally noting that it really was a bit too bitter. You were too caught up in your thoughts to put the right amount of sugar in.

"He's still not activated," Yoongi said, getting up to get a drink of water to chase the bitter taste out of his mouth. "If you want, you can come in when I do it,"

"Why haven't you yet?" You asked.

"His computer software needs a moment to compute the changes to his system," He explained. "It's kind of like updating your phone or your computer. He's got new software so it'll take a minute,"

"I...I'll be there," You muttered. "Just let me finish my coffee,"

It was several minutes of silence, just sipping on your coffee with Yoongi's watchful eyes on you. He didn't rush you nor did he seem in a rush. When you finished, you placed the empty mug in the sink and followed Yoongi to where Jungkook was.

He was still in the same position -- chin tucked into his chest and eyes closed. His skin was back in place with the activation button glowing an ominous yellow. Yoongi hummed, sitting down where he was before and pressing the button.

Immediately, the button began to glow its usual blue color. Jungkook's eyes opened and he lifted his head, blinking several times as if clearing his vision.

"Jungkook?" Yoongi asked only to receive no response.

"What's wrong?" You whimpered, wondering why he wasn't responding like he should.

"He's just a little slow to start, it happens sometimes," Yoongi began gathering the tools and putting them back in your toolbox. You kept your gaze on the unresponsive Jungkook who now was looking at his hands like they were foreign objects. "He should be back to normal in a couple hours,"

"Are you sure?" You asked, taking the toolbox from Yoongi and wandering down the hallway to put them back where they were.

"Positive," He responded coolly, putting his jacket back on. "Just give me a call if you need me, alright?"

"Yeah, thank you Yoongi," He placed a kind hand on your shoulder, smiling ever so slightly at you.

"It'll be alright, I promise," His words had you relaxing slightly and you nodded before leading him out the door.

Once he was out of sight down the hallway, you shut your door.

You tried to wait up for Jungkook to come back around, sipping on your bitter coffee and watching the episode of One Piece that was now playing on TV. But soon, as your head lulled onto the arm rest, the television faded into the background and you slipped into sleep.

You were rudely awoken with a shriek of surprise as a heavy body landed on yours. Strong arms wrapped around your waist and you became aware of the sobs filling the room.

"It's really you!" Jungkook cried, burying his face in your neck. "You're really here!"

"J-Jungkook," You whispered, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to bury your hands in his hair. "You're back!"

"I can't believe --" He pulled back away from you and you laughed, seeing the tears trickling down his cheeks. Smiling through your own tears, you used your thumbs to wipe his away.

Before you could squeeze out another word, his lips were on yours. The kiss was full of so many emotions and a passion that had more tears trickle from your eyes. His hands slid under your thighs and he pulled you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He navigated to your bedroom just like old times, knowing your apartment like the back of his hand. Dumping you on the bed, you realized how nice it was to have him -- the real him, on top of you again.

"I missed you so much," You whispered, meeting his smiling eyes.

"I know," He replied, leaning down to whisk you into another breathtaking kiss.

No other words needed to be spoken, everything being conveyed through soft caresses and loving kisses pressed to each others lips. Jungkook worshiped your body, remembering every curve and detail and touching you like he was making up for lost time. Part of you wondered if he remembers the mindless, empty sex you had when you bought him again.

You would get to that later.

As your clothes were shed, the both of you with your bodies pressed together. He was hard -- leaking against your thigh. With his fingers inside you and sliding hotly against your clit, you were thrown into your first orgasm. You could cry, hearing Jungkook's little praises and feeling him kiss your skin as you came down.

You had no problems when he slid into you, stretching you just the way you liked. He angled his hips, brushing your g-spot as he fucked you -- his pelvic bone meeting your clit every time he bottomed out had you keening in seconds. His hands cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing against your hard nipples as you gasped.

"Jungkook," You whined, wrapping your arms around his neck to press another kiss to his lips.

It was sloppy and uneven as he fucked you through it. Your tongues met, bringing the kiss into messy and sloppy rather than soft and passionate. Still, there was undeniable love in the meeting of your lips.

Once the kiss broke, you were taken aback by how dark his eyes became. Biting his lip, he smirked down at you -- a look that had you clenching pathetically around his cock.

Abandoning his hold on your breasts, his hands wrapped around your throat. Your heart jumped in your chest -- this wasn't the first time he'd done this. In fact, it had brought you some phenomenal orgasms in the past.

You clawed at any skin you could reach, pulled your own hair and tugged at the sheets beneath you. He kept his dark gaze on you, biting his own lip as he watched you writhe beneath him. His hair was a mess -- probably as much as your own was. You were panting, struggling to breathe around the heaviness of his hands around your throat.

It didn't take long before you reached your peak, back arching beneath him as your cunt clenched his cock. His hips stuttered and he moaned out his own release. He filled you up -- warm and thick and it began to leak out around his cock as he fucked you through both of your releases. He began to slow his pace until he stopped completely.

It took you a second to realize that his grip around your throat hadn't released. No, instead it was tightening. Your eyes widened as it became harder and harder to breathe.

Your hands flew up to try and pull his hands off of you and push him away. When he stared down at you with dark, emotionless eyes you began to really panic. You have no idea how, but after delivering a sharp kick to his side he was knocked over. His hands came loose from your neck as he used them to steady himself. You took that opportunity to weasel out from beneath him.

"Jungkook..." You whispered, noticing that the once blue LED was now a solid and ominous red. He stood up, facing you with that same scary blank expression on his face. "D-Don't..."

He said nothing as he began to advance towards you -- heavy steps hitting the floor. You were backed into the wall with nowhere to go, your only exit being blocked by him. If you ran towards it, he'd catch you for sure. You didn't know what to do.

"Jungkook, please!" You cried, tears falling from your eyes as you watched him. You were trembling, terrified that he was actually going to kill you. Before you knew it, he was in front of you -- looming over you and staring down at you through his bangs. They were still messy from where you had ran your fingers through them.

He showed no signs of hearing you or he just didn't care. One hand found your throat again and your sob was cut off by him slamming you back into the wall. In the slight darkness of the room, you could make out the faint red glow from his LED.

"P-Please don't h-hurt me Jungkook," You sobbed, gripping his wrist in your trembling hands. "I-I love you, please, Jungkook!"

His words seemed to bring him to a halt. The solid red began rapidly blinking and Jungkook's brows furrowed. His jaw set and for a moment his grip tightened around you throat so hard you saw spots in your vision.

Then all at once, he was gone from you and you tumbled to the floor coughing. Looking up, you found Jungkook backing away, staring at his hands as if they had betrayed him.

"_-_____...I..." In a flash, he was pulling on his clothes. Still recovering from nearly being choked out, you struggled to get to your feet to chase him out. The slam of the door was what finalized his departure.

You realized that the red had been replaced with the calm blue once again before he left.

You had no idea how long you waited for him -- the sun had come up and then disappeared through the covering of clouds before rain began to fall. Looking out the window, you thought of the fact that Jungkook was out in the rain somewhere. Maybe he was scared? Maybe he was crying? Maybe he...maybe he had hurt someone else.

That last thought spurred you into action and you were throwing on a jacket and your shoes.

It was coming down pretty hard outside, the streets vacant and quiet aside from the occasional car zooming by. As you stood on the sidewalk, unsure of where to go and shivering you had half a mind to call Yoongi. He'd surely be asleep but -- then you remembered a place he would go.

You took off down the street, ignoring the fact that when you stepped in a puddle water filled your shoes and soaked your socks.

By the time you reached the river, you were panting but the rain had slowed to a simple drizzle. You let out a big sigh of relief at the sight of Jungkook huddled beneath a tree. His arms were bugging his knees to his chest and his face was buried in them. He looked so...small.

"Jungkook," You muttered, your voice just loud enough to hear over the running water. His head snapped up and whipped around to look at you. His back went stiff and his eyes widened. "Come home,"

He opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. You smiled sympathetically, holding your hand out for him to take. As his hand slid into yours, you couldn't help but feel a flash of fear at remembering how just a couple hours ago they were wrapped around your throat trying to kill you.

Jungkook seemed to notice your thoughts his shoulders slumped, head bowing forward so you couldn't see his face past the curtain of his bangs.

The way things changed between the two of you was immediately noticeable. Jungkook carried on around you as if he were walking on eggshells. He stuck to gentle touches and even refused to sleep next to you.

When you begged him to sleep with you, you would often wake up in the middle of the night to find him curled up on the couch watching TV. He wouldn't stay with you.

It was almost as if he were scared of himself.

He wasn't the only one. You were scared of him as well.

Every once in a while, he would sneak into the room and you would jump so hard there was no way he didn't notice it. No, he couldn't ignore the small flinches and looks of fear you threw his way whenever he snuck around. He wasn't trying to scare you or sneak around, he was just being cautious. But even then, he still managed to frighten you.

You decided, one day, that you wanted to find out what went wrong. So you called Yoongi.

He showed up, brows furrowed after hearing that Jungkook had...turned violent. He was shocked to simply find him eating a couple of pink frosted cupcakes you had made while watching I Love Lucy on TV.

"He just...stopped..." You had explained what went wrong, how Jungkook had choked you but he wouldn't stop. How the LED had turned red, blinked, and turned back to blue before he ran away.

"I think there was a minor glitch," Yoongi's use of the word minor made you twitch. Attempting to murder you was a minor glitch. You'd hate to see a major glitch.

"So, what now?" You prodded, watching Yoongi pull out his tools again.

"Hey Jungkook," Yoongi drew the androids attention away from the television. "I'd like to check you out again, yeah?"

"Sure," He agreed easily, pulling his shirt off and turning his back to Yoongi.

"Tell me what happened," Yoongi asked, pulling Jungkook activation button off just like he had last time.

"I don't know," Jungkook replied honestly, sounding choked up now. "I just...I couldn't stop. My mind was telling me to stop but my body just wouldn't. It was so hard to control,"

"How did you stop then?" Yoongi asked, prodding with a little blinking light beneath Jungkook's skin.

"When I heard her tell me she loves me...I just...stopped,"

It didn't take too long before Jungkook was back to his normal self -- mechanic inside covered back up. When you, Yoongi, and Jungkook were all gathered at the kitchen table you were able to find out what happened.

"He managed to override the glitch himself," Was Yoongi's certain response.

You had no idea that was something he was even able to do himself. But for some reason the news that he was capable of that had given you a sense of ease. If he could override his own glitch once he could do it again.

When you and Jungkook were alone, Yoongi having left, you were in a comfortable silence.

"Will you sleep with me tonight?" You asked, cuddling yourself closer to his chest.

"I'm going to stay up a bit," He mumbled, predictably. It was his way of confession that he didn't want to sleep with you tonight without outright rejecting you.

Your heart hurt and you gave him a soft kiss to his cheek before heading to your room for the night. You didn't know why, but when your head hit the pillow you couldn't fight the tears that stung your eyes. That night, you fell asleep on a wet pillow.

Sobbing woke you up. You felt a sense of deja vu as you quickly realized Jungkook was clinging to you and crying. The alarm clock on your bedside table had 3:23AM in blaring red.

"I'm so sorry," He sobbed, face buried in your hair as he cried. You attempted to turn around to face him but he tightened his grip on you to keep you from seeing him. "I hurt you and I'm sorry,"

"Jungkook, it's o--"

"Don't say it's okay!" He snapped tightening his hold on you. "You're scared of me and that's never okay. God, I almost killed you, _____!"

"I know..." Your reply had his grip loosening and you used that opportunity to turn around and face him. When you saw the heartbroken, lost look in his eyes you felt tears pricking your own.

"You never should have brought me back," Your eyes widened at his words. "If you had just let me rot as a mindless object, you wouldn't have been hurt and you wouldn't be scared of me. I deserve to be nothing. I don't deserve what you've given me, _____,"

"That;s not true at all," You hissed, sitting up to glare at him. "I love you, Jungkook,"

"You shouldn't,"

"Well I do!" You snapped, throwing the covers off in a huff to stand up. "I don't care what you did. You didn't mean it. You came back to me when I told you I loved you, Jungkook. I don't know about you but that means something to me,"

"_____,"

"I love you so much, Jungkook," By now the tears began to drip down your cheeks. "Please tell me you love me too,"

Your words had Jungkook leaping from the bed. His arms wrapped around your waist and his lips found yours in a well-practiced kiss. He held you so fiercely, your body flush against his as if he was shielding you from everything around you. For the first time since that night, you didn't feel an ounce of fear go through your body.

"I love you so much, I love you more than anything," He confessed, the words a whisper against your lips. You erupted into a tearful laugh as he kept repeating the phrase even as you found yourself pressed against the bed once again.

Your whispers dissolved into breathing as you both shared kiss after kiss. Strong hands pulled your clothes off until your bare back was against the soft comforter, the clean scent of your detergent filling your senses.

Jungkook was more than willing to allow you to strip him until he was just as bare as you. Your fingertips were gentle as they traveled down his soft skin, past the ridges of his hips until you were met with the heat of his cock. Wrapping your hand around him elicited a small gasp from him. Collecting a bead of his precum on your finger, you made a show of popping the digit in your mouth and moaning at his sweet taste.

"You drive me crazy," He whispered, spreading your thighs so he could position himself comfortably between them.

Wrapping his own hand around his cock, you felt yourself nearly drooling as he slowly fucked his own fist. Making sure his length was well lubricated with his precum, he positioned himself at your entrance.

Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as he pushed himself inside you. The stretch was a burn at the lack of prep given, but you couldn't care less -- it felt phenomenal to have him inside you like this. He touched your body wherever he could, cupping your breasts and grazing his way up your thighs.

His pace was controlled, not too fast but not slow enough to be teasing. He knew exactly what you needed in that moment and you were sure it was what he needed as well.

Balancing his weight on his elbows beside your head, his lips briefly brushed yours in a fleeting kiss.

Your bodies were pressed close together -- chest to chest. Every time he sunk into you he met your clit, drawing a cry of pleasure from you. His cock grazed your g-spot with experienced ease, only driving your closer to an early end.

"It's okay, baby," He cooed, nosing softly against your neck before delivering a soft kiss there. "I'm gonna cum too,"

Your lips met his and before you knew it, you both were falling into orgasm together. Your body trembled beneath his, safe and comforted beneath his close warmth. He gasped into your mouth, hips stuttering against yours as your walls clenched desperately around him to milk him of his orgasm. His warmth filled you up, his cock twitching inside you as he gave you his load.

Slowly, he sat up, watching as you caught your breath beneath him. You were still pulsing around him through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

"I don't want to hold back anymore," He whispered, sitting back to sit on his heels. You felt so exposed beneath his leering gaze even though you were still speared on his cock. "I want to fuck you now. Can I?"

"Y-Yes, yes please," You whined, clutching the sheets beneath you as you looked up at him. His hair was a mess, courtesy of your wandering hands.

"Good girl," He whispered, moving his hand down to find your clit.

You keened when his deft fingers brushed against the swollen bud, still sensitive from your orgasm. Despite your trembling reaction to his touch, he continued to touch you. Stuffed on his cock, your walls clenched around him as he hurled you into another orgasm.

As you began to come down, he started fucking you in earnest. You gasped, eyes rolling back into your head. He didn't give you a moment to truly come down from you high, your body was overly-sensitive. A shit-eating smirk crawled across his handsome face the louder your cries of pleasure got.

"Do you feel good?" He cooed, the sound of skin slapping filling the space as you quieted down to respond to him.

"S-So good, fuck," You cried, reaching up to claw at the pillow above your head, needing something to hang onto as his pace increased.

"You're such a good girl, letting me fuck you like this," He growled, sliding his hands up to cup your breasts. "Look at your pretty tits,"

"Fuck," You whined at his dirty words, cunt clenching around him in response.

He pinched your nipples, the light sting making your back arch as you were eager to get more. Jungkook, biting his lip, watched with his pupils blown wide in lust at your eager reaction to his touches.

Suddenly, there was a sharp sting blooming across your breast. Jungkook outright laughed, a sadistic sound that had you whimpering as he supplied another burning slap to your breast.

"I can feel you gush around me when I slap your pretty tits, babygirl," He growled, smacking you again and this time you cried out. Your skin was burning, but he was right -- you did only get wetter with every impact. "You like being slapped huh? Answer me,"

"Y-Yes, I like it!" You gasped, Jungkook slapping your other breast this time -- the new sting lighting up your body.

"How about," His hand traveled down your stomach until they met your clit -- hard and neglected. "if I slap you here?"

You nodded, eyes wide as you awaited the impact.

When it came, you were sent flying into yet another orgasm; this one was much more powerful. As you gushed, Jungkook rained down more smacks to your clit -- making you almost shriek through your orgasm. Through it all, Jungkook's hips never stopped, he abused your g-spot with no mercy.

FInally, he began to let you come down. You were panting beneath him, your chest heaving with every breath. Your whole body was sweaty, your hair sticking to your slick skin and you were sure you looked a mess. But still, Jungkook leaned closer to you to press a gentle kiss against your lips.

"Breathe, baby," He whispered, caressing your body to help the trembles settle. "Good girl, you're so beautiful,"

You shared a kiss, your lips moving together calmly. He cupped your cheek, smiling into the kiss as it deepened. When you both finally pulled away, he looked at you with wide eyes.

"_____," Hearing your name had you looking more clearly at him in question. "I want to try something,"

You immediately consented, already eager to see what he wanted to do. However, when his hand wrapped around your throat, you felt your heart leap in panic. Jungkook seemed to notice this and leaned down, kissing your lips softly again.

"Just trust me," He whispered, beginning to move his hips once again. Your eyes rolled at the feeling, still feeling overly sensitive from your previous orgasms. "I won't hurt you,"

Hearing those words with his hand wrapped around your throat -- where he could easily kill you. How he almost did before. It put you more at ease.

His eyes were fond on you when you reached up to grip his hand around your throat -- urging him to tighten his grip.

Part of you still felt scared when it tightened, but his words -- urging you to trust him, assuring that he wouldn't hurt you, repeated in your head. Jungkook's other hand traveled down to find your clit.

"Cum with me," He growled, tightening his hold even more on your throat.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as your orgasm hit. Just as you reached your peak, he released his hold and you gasped for air. Jungkook came too -- filling you up even more. His cum gushed out of of you, mixing beneath your body on the bed.

Finally the two of you stilled, Jungkook pulling out from you. He didn't seem to mind your sweat-slicked body being pressed to his as he pulled you into his side.

"Do you think this will work?" He asked suddenly, kissing the crown of your head.

"It has to," You mumbled, hugging him tighter against you.

Just as Jungkook opened his mouth to respond, your phone began to ring. You reached over Jungkook's body to grab where it was sitting plugged in to charge.

"Jimin?" You muttered, seeing his name flash on your screen to indicate he was the caller.

Picking up the phone, you didn't even have a chance to say hello before Jimin was muttering out panicked words. You responded the best you could before he suddenly hung up with a soft cuss.

"What was that?" Jungkook asked, sitting up in curiosity now.

"I...I'm not really sure, something about Hot Bot Inc.,"

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #bts preferences #jungkook preferences #bts reactions #jungkook reactions #bts fanfics #jungkook fanfics

3K notes · View notes

mycupoffanfiction · 6 years ago

Text

His Favourite Gal: Part 5 A Bucky x Reader Mobster AU Fic

A mob!Bucky x Reader fic

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

The reader begins working as a waitress at Bucky Barnes’ favourite club in town. Little does she realise that working on mob territory owned by the infamous King of New York, Bucky Barnes, comes with it’s quirks as the reader is slowly pulled into the mobster life. Warnings: Smut, fluff, a bit of violence, language, one mention of drugs (in relation to trafficking).

Word count: Approx 6700

Hi! Part 5 is here! Hope you all enjoy! Thank you all for the lovely feedback about part 4, dunno what I was getting myself worked up about 😅 Enjoy! 💕

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“Okay good, try to breath slowly and steadily.” Steve spoke quietly to you. “Whenever you’re ready.” He said, stepping away from you. Firing a shot, your hands tingled with the recoil of the gun you held. Looking over at the target, you’d not done too badly, it wasn’t in the middle of the target by any means, but it wasn’t too far off. Imagine what mum and dad would think of all of this. You shake your head in an effort to get rid of your thoughts and reposition yourself, aiming and firing a second time. You were ready for the recoil this time, keeping your hands much steadier than the first try. “Damn, not bad!” Steve exclaimed, observing from behind. “Try one more time.” Steve says, waiting for you to aim. You take the third shot, a bit closer to the middle this time and Steve reaches forward, taking the pistol from your hands. “Great job, with some more training you could be a great shot.” He encourages you and you beam up at him. Steve’s phone buzzes and he looks down at it. “Buck wants you up in his office.” He informs you. “Alright, I’ll head up. Thanks for the training.” You smile at him. “Wait, uh, before you go.” Steve steps back, approaching his duffle bag he brought with him and rummages about. “I know Bucky had to take it from you the other night, but since you were quite pleased with it’s effectiveness, I got you a new one.” Steve pulls out a box. You step up to his side and take the box from him. Taking off the lid, you peer inside and there’s a brand new fibre wire inside. The handles are made from steel and they are beautifully polished, glinting with the overhead lights. “Thank you.” You breath, reaching in to take it in your hand. “Keep it concealed, I know Buck is more than happy with you having weapons on you, but you don’t want to freak people out.” Steve chuckles, pulling his duffle bag onto his shoulder.

You and Steve part ways and you make your way up to Bucky’s office. You were inside of Bucky’s office building where he ran his business out of. It was a huge modern structure and while it mostly had offices, it was the perfect place for a base of operations. Since you’d been promoted from your job of waitress to girlfriend, you no longer had a job, but Bucky had insisted on paying you a salary none the less. You weren’t too keen on not having an actual job for yourself, but you appreciated Bucky’s insistence to make sure you were well cared for.

You exited the elevator, passing a few of Bucky’s employees on the way. His office was on the top floor, naturally. You knocked on the door to his office before poking your head in, Bucky was sat behind his desk with a woman sat opposite. She had red shoulder length hair and wore a leather jacket, from what you could see. “Hey, sugar.” Bucky waved you into the room. Closing the door behind you, you pulled out the chair next to the red haired woman and when you shifted in your seat to look at her you realised it was Nat. “Holy- Nat, what are you doing here?” You ask, the two of you reaching over your chairs to share a quick hug. “Missed you too.” She laughed, pulling away. “(Y/n), I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this earlier.” Bucky began, resting his hands on his desk. “Nat was never a bartender, was she? Were you?” You asked, beating him to the punch and looking between Bucky and Natasha. Bucky huffed out a laugh, leaning back in his seat. “I don’t think you two exactly need me for this.” He joked, watching you and Nat interact. “Well I technically was a bartender, but also trained intelligence.” Nat nods her head from side to side, a smirk playing on her lips.

“I invited you in here, doll, to offer you something.” Bucky finds a gap in your conversation, turning the attention back to him. Both you and Nat fall silent and you sit up straight, ready for what he was about to say. “I spoke to Natasha about your observational skills, your fast reactions, the behaviour you exhibited every time you’ve been in the face of danger.” Bucky explains, keeping his eyes locked firmly on you. “We’d like to offer you a position as an intelligence agent. Nat will train you and I’ll have a reason to pay you, since you were quite stubborn about that and this way I’ll feel a lot better about taking you with me to meetings.” Bucky didn’t even have to give you reasons, god you would snap that up as soon as. If he’d asked you to be intelligence for him without the promise of Nat or money, you’d do it anyway. “Yes.” You responded, coming out of your thoughts. “What? I wasn’t done with my whole speech.” Bucky pauses, his hands still poised from talking with them. “Yes, I’ll do it.” You smile. Nat looked at you with amusement, sharing a glance with Bucky. Bucky let out a chuckle and relaxed in his seat. “I’m glad it didn’t take much convincing.” He laughs to himself, looking down at his hands. “Nat, a moment with my girl, please.” Nat nods, patting you on the shoulder before vacating the office.

“Did Stevie give you your new fibre wire?” He asks, leaning back and letting his chair recline. You pull it out of your inner jacket pocket and flash it at him before smoothing your fingers over the handles again. “Thank you, for all of this Bucky.” You lean on the desk, putting the fibre wire back in your jacket. “Sweetheart, I’d do anything for you. I just want to make sure you can handle yourself even more than you already can.” He grins at you. “I was afraid after all the shit you went through that it would scare you off, I feel like I’m corrupting you.” Bucky says, fiddling with his fingers. “I’m here to stay, Bucky.” You smile up at him. There’s a pause in conversation as Bucky takes in your features.

“Any news on the boys?” You ask. “Yeah, Scott’s back at work, can’t drive yet though and Clint is at home recovering, broken bones make it a bit hard for him to be your bodyguard.” Bucky chuckles. “He was my bodyguard?” You puzzle. “Yeah, unofficially I suppose, although the first time he had to protect you he got himself knocked out.” Bucky jokes as he gets up from his seat and walks to your side. “Dinner tonight?” You ask. “I wanted to wanted to make you lasagne, you could come to my place.” You suggest. “I know it’s a bit of a crap apartment but-.” You suddenly become nervous after Bucky’s critical analysis of your apartment the first time he had visited, but he interrupts you. “Crap apartment or not, I’d love to, (Y/n).” Bucky leans on the desk in front of you, grabbing your hand. “Great!” You beam. “I’ll drop by at seven? Until then I’ll have Sam drive you home.” Bucky holds your hand still, gently pulling you up from your seated position. “Try not to get into more danger, gorgeous.” Bucky leans in and you reach up on your toes for your lips to meet.

Bucky’s hand rests on your lower back, his metal hand sliding up to tangle itself into your hair and you whimper into his lips as he scratches your scalp gently. Your delicate hands run under his shirt collar, caressing the soft skin hidden underneath as you snake your hands around the back of his neck. Bucky deepens the kiss and you pant slightly as his hand plays with the hem of your top, running his fingers on the soft skin of your lower back. Parting slowly, Bucky looks down at you with hooded eyes, and in that moment, you see all of the adoration and love he has for you in those piercingly blue eyes of his. “I love you, (Y/n).” Bucky breaks the silence and you feel your heart skip a beat at the sound of those three words. He loves you. Bucky Barnes loves you. “I love you too Bucky.” You smile uncontrollably. “I can’t wait to see you later sweetheart.” Bucky says, planting one last gentle kiss on your cheek before he backs away from your hold. You feel your cheeks burn red as you step towards the door. “I’ll see you later, Buck.” You say quietly before ducking out of the room.

A sharp rapping at your door tells you that Bucky has arrived and you drop your tea towel to answer the door. You had both decided it was going to be a casual one tonight, so neither of you dressed up too much, although you did still put some effort in because you loved getting dolled up for Bucky. Swinging the door open, Bucky looks down at you with his signature smirk while he leans against the doorway. “Hey sugar.” He drawls, placing his hands on your hips and leaning in you kiss you on the lips. He moves against your lips hungrily as he slowly backs you into your apartment, shutting the door with his foot. You only part when the timer goes off and you have to rush off to tend to your lasagne. “You’re just on time.” You smile, pulling the homemade dish out of the oven. Bucky peers over your shoulder at your creation and hums. “Looks delicious, doll.” He says, looking directly at you, eliciting a sweet giggle to pass through your lips.

Bucky moves out of your way when you stop him from helping and he takes a seat at your dining table. “Tell me about your day, sweetheart.” Bucky makes conversation as you cut him a portion of your meal. “I didn’t do anything exciting after I came home, I just tidied up the place, went to see Clint for a while.” You shrug, plating up his lasagne and moving it to the side. “How is he?” Bucky relaxes against the back of his chair, making it creak a bit. “He’s alright, he’s pretty immobile at the moment with a broken leg and a broken arm.” You sigh. “He complained nearly the whole time that he has to use a wheelchair. His wife is mad at me because she thinks its my fault he’s hurt. I guess it kind of is.” You sound slightly dejected. “S’not your fault, sweetheart. If it’s going to be anyone’s fault, it might as well be mine. You can’t help that you got wrapped up in the middle of my business.” Bucky leans on the table, but immediately sits up straight when you bring the plates of food over. “It’s not like you knew it was going to happen.” You shrug, sitting down opposite him. Bucky takes a bite eagerly but breathes out heavily when he realises it’s still too hot. You let out a breathy laugh and shake your head affectionately at him while he fans his mouth a bit. “That’s hot.” He remarks, looking you in the eyes. You know he’s not really talking about the food and you give him a sweet smile. How is someone so intimidating and big, so damn sweet?

“Well that was hands down the best lasagne I’ve ever had.” Bucky says matter-of-factly as he drops his cutlery onto his plate. “Sure you’re not just saying that?” You ask, leaning forward. “Absolutely, I could get used to homemade lasagne more often.” He nods enthusiastically and you stifle a laugh when you see how serious he is. “I’ll have to ask you very nicely to make one for me and the guys sometime.” Bucky smiles. “All you have to do is ask.” You respond, collecting the plates together.

Lounging on the sofa in a semi-comatose state, you’re cuddled up to Bucky as the late night television plays softly in the background. “Do you think we’ll ever have a normal life?” Bucky asks, glancing down at you. “This isn’t normal to you?” You frown. “No, no, I mean with less of the mob. I mean if things get more serious between us and you want to take further steps into our relationship, won’t my work get in the way?” Bucky thinks out loud. “We’ll work around it, I’m not ready to think about dropping my day job of intelligence agent just to have a white picket fence life.” You smile. “I mean, unless that’s what you want.” You shrug. “No, I mean I could live with a life like that, I just thought that’s what you wanted.” Bucky shakes his head and you feel the loose strands of his hair tickle your forehead. “No, I didn’t get involved with you to pull you into a domestic life.” Yawning, you lean into him more and trail your hand up his thigh. “Although there is one step I’d like to take.” You say in the most sultry voice you can muster.

Bucky quickly understands your meaning and he grips at your waist, gently pushing you so you’re laying down on the sofa and his soft lips gently move against yours. You move your hands down his sides and you can feel him shiver when you invite yourself under his shirt, making contact with the soft skin there. Bucky hovers above you as he works against your lips, and his tongue gently plays with yours. The only thing you can hear are laboured breaths as you slide your hand further up his shirt, your fingers brushing over what felt like scarred skin. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Bucky asks breaking away slightly and coming back in for another kiss. “There’s no one I’d rather do it with.” You whimper and Bucky hums into your lips, satisfied with your answer. He pulls back a bit, snaking his arms around you and pulling you up with him, resting you on his lap in a seated position as your kisses start to become more hungry and less delicate.

Grabbing at your thighs, Bucky lifts you as he gets up from the couch, carrying you across your apartment to your bedroom. He gently and carefully lays you down on your bed and he parts from your lips, leaving you breathing heavily as his fingers pass over your clothed torso, the sensation of his fingers brushing over you makes you whine and he looks up, locking eyes with you as you watch him. He hooks his fingers under the hem of your shirt and began to pull it up painfully slowly. You wiggle your hips a little as you lift your arms up, prompting him to move a little faster and he pulls your top over your head, revealing your lacey red bra. Bucky catches his breath in his throat as his gaze trails over you, looking at you with such awe in his eyes. You hum as he reaches down and plants gentle kisses across your stomach, the contrast of his scratchy stubble and his soft kisses makes you shiver. He moves further up, skirting over your bra and pressing his lips to yours again. His hands are playing with the button on your jeans and he pops it open while he moves against you. Shimmying them down your hips while never leaving the gentle touch of your lips, he pushes your jeans down before you use your feet to kick them off.

Breaking the kiss, Bucky moves away, sitting up slightly to get a good look at you and he gapes at your almost naked body. “You are so beautiful.” Bucky whispers. “So goddamn beautiful.” He breathes, his hand smoothing over your hip and clutching at your waist. You reach up and grip the bottom of his black t-shirt. “I want to see you, Bucky.” You sound breathless as you tug at his top. “You sure, sweetheart? I ain’t as pretty as you.” He sounds sad and you get up on your knees to be closer to his height and press a few kisses up his neck. “I don’t care.” You assure him, sucking at the delicate skin. “I want you, scars or not.” You breathe hot air onto his neck and you hear him moan softly. You slowly pull his shirt up revealing his stomach and then his chest until he eventually pulls the top over his head. The marred flesh where metal meets skin looks pink and sensitive, it’s swirled in odd patterns where the skin had scarred and it looked almost unreal. You gently slid your hand over his chest, brushing over his pecs and sliding down his huge metal arm, letting your fingers feel every groove beneath them as the plates shifted against your touch. He was no less handsome to you than when he had his shirt on and you let yourself smile with satisfaction as you gazed at his scarred skin. He was a warrior; he had survived awful things and his scars were like badges of honour. “You should wear your scars with pride.” You break the silence. “They make you so strong.” You add, kissing up his left shoulder where the metal met his skin. “You don’t hate them?” He asks, surprised. “No, I love them, I love you, all of you, scars and metal arm included.” You speak softly against the shell of his ear and you hear his breathing hitch.

Bucky grabs at your sides and pushes you down back onto the bed. “I want you so bad, (Y/n).” Bucky breathes out as he undoes his jeans. “I’m all yours.” You whisper as you eye his bulge, now that his jeans are out of the way. His underwear is straining over him and you enjoy the sight, seeing how much you turned him on. “All mine.” Bucky breathes as he lowers himself closer to you, winding his hand around your back to undo your bra in one swift motion. Pulling the piece of clothing from your arms, it’s thrown somewhere into the room and your on full display for him. Bucky breathes out a wow and you giggle at his reaction. Bucky doesn’t even give you time to play with him a bit before he latches onto your breast, nibbling, licking and sucking on them. Tugging your nipple between his teeth, he rolls the other between his metal fingers and the cold sensation makes you moan.

Bucky holds you in place with his mouth, sending waves of pleasure through you as he pushes your panties down, revealing your wet core and Bucky is quick to slide his fingers between your lips as he works you with his mouth. You let out a shaky moan as he toys with you, circling his metal finger around your clitoris, the coldness of the metal intensifying the pleasure. Without giving you time to react, Bucky moves down between your legs, looking up at you and you lock eyes. He’s waiting for permission and you silently nod. He smirks and holds your legs open with his hands, working you with his tongue. God you feel like you could scream from the pleasure, the way he focusses on your clitoris, swirling his tongue around in circles and creating patterns with it. You writhe underneath him as he increases his intensity, working you harder and faster as you pant, gripping at anything you can find within arm’s reach. Grabbing his free hand, you clutch it as you moan out in pleasure and he speeds up even more, sending you over the edge, pleasure washing through you like a wave. You shudder and twitch as he rides you through your orgasm, drawing gentle circles on your thigh with his thumb, his flesh hand gripping yours and you slowly release your grip on him as you come down from your high.

“I need you.” You pant, watching Bucky wipe his mouth. “Please, Bucky.” You reach forward, palming his bulge and he lets out a low groan. “You taste so good.” He whispers, leaning over you and pressing his lips to yours, sharing the flavour of your pleasure with you. Bucky slowly slides his boxers down as he kisses you gently and you feel him spring free against your leg. “Are you ready?” He asks, gripping his shaft and sliding the head up and down your entrance. You nod frantically, bucking your hips into him. Bucky chuckles and cups your cheek gently as he slowly slides into you. He moves in excruciatingly slowly, allowing you to adjust to the feeling before he starts moving.

Bucky starts of slow and gentle, his eyes locked on yours as he gauges your reactions, repositioning himself now and again to reach the spots that make you moan and cry out the most. Thrusting with more energy, Bucky pushes into you, his length pressing against your g-spot and you breath out heavily, a moan riding on your lips as he thrusts and you feel an orgasm shudder through you, clenching your walls around him. Moving with a stronger pace and with more force, the slapping of skin against skin fills the room as well as your panting breaths, before he speeds up, looking you in the eyes as he starts to tense up, his large muscular shoulders and arms bulge and it’s a beautiful sight. Bucky lets out a throaty groan, vibrating through you as he reaches his peak, his orgasm rushing through him as he thrusts through it, slowly decreasing in speed until he can’t take the sensation anymore and pulls out, collapsing onto the bed beside you.

After you both recover, Bucky helps to clean you up, wiping you down with a clean cloth and trailing kisses over your bare skin. “That was amazing, you’re amazing, sugar.” Bucky whispers in your ear. Before long, you’ve fallen asleep against Bucky’s chest, and you revel in his warm, protective embrace.

You woke with a start hours later, the bed is empty and when you run your hand across the space next to you, you feel Bucky’s warmth still there. As you start to wake up a bit more, you realise you can hear shuffling in your apartment and a muffled voice. Sliding out of bed, you pad across the floor to the door, still completely naked. You assume Bucky’s on the phone, so when you open the door, you’re not expecting Steve to be stood in the middle of your apartment. “God, Jesus Christ!” You shriek, shrinking back behind the door. You knew Steve hadn’t really seen you, but he definitely knew you were naked. You throw on Bucky’s shirt that was left discarded on the floor and your underwear before opening the door again. Both men turn to look at you and you shoot them a confused glare. “What are you doing in my flat at,” You pause to look at your microwave clock across the room. “Three in the morning?” You finish, your voice still raspy from sleep. Steve sighs and runs his hand down his face. “Fucking hell, what have I gotten you into?” Bucky says under his breath as you walk slowly into the room. “What’s going on?” You ask. “(Y/n), we need to leave.” Bucky strides towards you. You can hear sirens in the distance, lots of them. “Why, what’s happening?” Your voice peaks as panic starts to fill your chest. “Get dressed, we’re leaving.” Bucky guides you back into your bedroom.

He comes in with you and you pull of his shirt, throwing it to him while you rush to get yourself some new clothes. “Tell me what’s happening, Bucky.” You frown, pulling out a black crop top. He sighs as he pulls on his jeans. You’re about to press him again as you pull on your top when a loud explosion interrupts you, making you jump and turn to look at the flash of light through your curtains, the building shook with the force of the explosion. You freeze up completely and Bucky rushes to your side. “Come on sweetheart, we need to go.” He breathes into your ear as he pulls out a pair of leggings, helping you put them on as you stand there in shock. “(Y/n), come on, it’s alright, we just need to move quickly.” He snaps you out of your panic and you pull up your leggings. You finish getting dressed and step into your black boots. Throwing on your jacket, you collect together a few of your valuables, chucking them into your backpack and slinging it over your shoulders.

On your way out, you glance back at your apartment one last time, wondering if you’ll ever see it intact again. Bucky takes your hand, racing down the corridor with you, Steve slightly ahead of you both. Steve reaches out and triggers the fire alarm on your way out and you rush behind both men through the downstairs lobby. The pop of gunfire becomes apparent as you pass through the threshold into the cold night time air. Sam is waiting in an SUV outside and you all pile into the car. Buckling yourself in next to Bucky on the back seat you look out of the window, clutching your bag anxiously.

Another explosion goes off behind you at the end of the street and you see the glowing clouds of orange burst out of the windows of the building. “What the fuck is going on?!” You scream. Sam floors the accelerator. “Sam will take you to a safehouse, we have to sort this out.” Steve answers you with a stern voice. “What? No! I’m not going to a safehouse.” You protest. “(Y/n), Hydra is attacking your neighbourhood.” Bucky clutches your hand. “I didn’t tell you this, but the day they attacked us in front of that restaurant was my fault. I refused a deal to give up this district to them. That’s why they’re attacking.” Bucky rushes to explain as Sam turns a corner, reaching the edge of the neighbourhood as police cars whizz by at high speed. “What?” You shriek. “I know, I know, I’m so sorry, Christ, I’m so sorry sweetheart.” Bucky clutches his cheeks in his hands and you calm yourself. “God, no it’s not your fault Bucky.” You grab at his arm squeezing it gently and he turns to face you, letting out a little sigh. “We can fix this, right?” You ask. “There’s gotta be a way to fix this.” You ponder. “Why did they want the district in the first place?” You ask. “This isn’t really the time, (Y/n)!” Steve shouts, holding onto the handle above his door for dear life as Sam tears through the city roads. “(Y/n), doll there’s a lot I haven’t told you and I’m sorry.” Bucky holds your hands in his. “I don’t care what it is, I mean unless you intend on breaking up with me, which I absolutely refuse to allow you to over this.” You say sternly, peering out of the back window at the empty street behind you.

Sam drives you for a few more minutes and you’re starting to calm down from the situation. You take a deep breath but just as you’re starting to relax, a booming explosion shakes the car and you take in a sharp, gasping breath, clouds of smoke billowing up into the sky and you draw in a long, slow breath. “What haven’t you told me?” You ask, looking over at Bucky. Steve looks over his shoulder with a questioning look at Bucky. Bucky takes in a slow breath and closes his eyes. “I swear I didn’t know until a few days ago, I swear (Y/n).” Bucky looks at you with sad eyes, it almost breaks your heart seeing him so worked up. “Your parents died in a car crash, right?” He speaks quietly, like he’s afraid to even say the words. You nod, your heart speeding up rapidly. “Your father was involved with the mob, he got caught up in Hydra. They killed your parents, (Y/n).” Bucky grips your shoulder as you look at him in complete shock. You swallow thickly, a lump in your throat as you feel your lip quiver. “That’s why they tried to take me.” You breath out. Bucky nods, sliding his hands down to yours and you take hold of his. “Oh god.” Is all you can manage, forcing back tears. “The district you lived in was owned by them, after they died, it was passed to my father, everything they owned got passed to him.” Bucky explained, his voice was a lot calmer now.

Sam slowed the car as you neared Bucky’s office building. “You’re not taking me to a safehouse. I’m going in with you.” You state, your tone strong and even now that you’ve composed yourself. Everything Bucky said is swirling around in your head. It’s not his fault, even though he’s acting like it is, but you know it isn’t. How the hell had your parents kept that secret from you? This entire time, you were from a mob family of your own and you didn’t even know it. Getting involved with Bucky probably bought enough attention to you for Hydra to realise who you really were. Bucky didn’t even try to argue with you as he got out of the car, holding the door open for you and letting you grab his hand to help you slide out of his side of the car.

Sam drove the car around the corner to park it underground while you, Steve and Bucky made your way inside. “How are we going to deal with this?” Steve asked, not specifically aiming the question at anyone as you all filed into the elevator. “I haven’t worked that out yet.” Bucky sighed, jabbing the button for the top floor. “Can the police even handle Hydra?” You question, wondering out loud. Steve looks down at you and shrugs. “They’ve never had to deal with a mob blowing up a whole district before.” Steve responds as you watch the floor numbers increase above the door. The elevator stops and the doors slide open, Natasha and Scott are already waiting in the corridor outside of Bucky’s office and the three of you pace towards them.

Piling into Bucky’s office, you all stand around the desk, Bucky standing in front of his chair. “Hydra nearly have total control over the district. There have been four explosions and the casualty count is high. The hospitals are completely overrun, the fire department is stretched thin and the police are barely managing to control things.” Nat reports. “Fuck.” Steve breathes out. “Can’t we just send out reinforcements? You work the police, right?” You question. Bucky nods and scratches his stubble. “It won’t be enough though.” Steve sighs. “They are killing innocent people and you don’t want to send your men out there because you’re afraid it won’t be enough?” You raise your voice, frowning a bit. “Steve, people are dying!” You shout. Bucky looks at you sympathetically and nods. “(Y/n)’s right, we can’t just stand by and not do anything.” Bucky speaks up. “Call out the reinforcements to join the police.” Bucky instructs. Nat is scrolling through photos of the attack on the news on her phone and you look over her shoulder at them, seeing how they resemble a war like attack with enemy lines against the police. “Get your men to flank them, if they don’t see them coming you can take out more of them by surprise.” You instruct, not even caring that you’re not the boss, but everyone listens to you anyway. “Do as she says.” Bucky nods, glancing over at Steve who gives you an agreeing look before taking out his phone to make the call.

Everyone disperses from the room, Steve heads down the corridor on the phone, keeping his distance. Nat leans against the edge of the sky bridge that leads from the elevator to Bucky’s office and you join her side. “This wasn’t exactly how I pictured my Friday night to go.” She sighed. “Tell me about it.” You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “Fuck, I should be out there, I can’t just stand around in here while this is going on.” Nat snaps, pushing away from barrier and paces to the other side to look down into the offices below. “Nat.” Bucky speaks softly, moving to join her with you on the other side of her. “I can’t, Bucky.” She shakes her head. “It’s so dangerous out there, you could die.” He tries to convince her otherwise. “Sorry Bucky, but I have to fight. If I die, at least I die fighting for what’s right.” She huffed out, looking between you both. Bucky gives her a nod and rests his hands on the railing. “I understand.” He closes his eyes as Natasha pulls you into a hug. “Stay safe, alright?” She whispers in your ear as you squeeze her tightly. “You too, Nat.” You respond shakily. She moves away from you and you keep your eyes locked on Bucky as she walks away.

You’re not sure how much time passes but you spend a while anxiously waiting. You don’t even know what you’re waiting for, but you start to grow restless and impatient. You let out a groan as you move away from the railing. “Fuck, I can’t just keep waiting, I need to help somehow.” You heave out a sigh. “Sugar, please.” Bucky instantly takes your hands in his. “I can’t lose you.” He grips you tightly. “I didn’t say anything about fighting, Buck.” You look up at him. “I’m going to see if I can dig up who’s running things. If we can find out who it is and take them out, the rest of them will fall like flies.” You theorise. “How are you going to do that?” Bucky frowns, shifting in his step a little. “It’s easy to dig up dirt on people, just gotta know how.” You give him a half hearted smile. “Where do you keep your records?” You ask. “Downstairs in the archive room.” Bucky answers simply. You nod your head in the direction of the elevator and Bucky walks with you.

The doors slide open and Bucky walks hand in hand with you, leading you through the corridors to the archive. Pushing open the large double doors, he flicks on the lights and you inspect the rows of free standing shelves filled with boxes on documents. “Bloody hell.” You whisper, taking in the vastness of the room. Bucky follows you to the computer desk and waits for you to boot up the PC. You type in several keywords into the database, writing down the row and box numbers for each one until you’re sufficiently pleased with the data. “We need to find these boxes.” You hand Bucky the paper. “I’ll get the first one, you stay here.” He stops you from getting up and you nod, shifting things about on the desk to make space for the boxes.

Bucky drops the first box onto the desk and you pull out the files, thumbing through the papers for any source of information. You huff when you don’t find what you’re looking for. You both go through several more boxes until you stop. Pushing away the papers and putting them back into the boxes, you go back to the database, typing in a different keyword this time. You don’t give Bucky a chance to get the box for you, since you rush off to find it yourself and you leave Bucky standing, staring at the screen, glancing over at you disappearing between the shelving units.

You return with a box, slamming it down onto the table. “(Y/n), that’s-.” Bucky begins but you cut him off. “I know, Buck.” You sound almost sad as you pull the lid off the box. Reaching in, you take out the file, thumbing through the papers, your eyes scan for what you’re looking for. Right as you’re about to admit defeat, you peer into the box and at the bottom are some jumbled up photographs.

You reach in and pull them out, going through each one, taking in the features of the people in the photos. You stop when you reach one of a man and woman shaking hands with two men. One of which you were familiar with, Rumlow, you weren’t sure who the second man was, but he looked important. Shaking his hand was none other than your father and next to him stood your mother. “(Y/n).” Bucky whispers. You don’t say anything as you look at more of the photos. There’s another one with that unknown man again with your father. They both face the camera and you notice the similarities in their features. They look like brothers. “My dad told me I had an uncle but I never met him.” You point out to Bucky, passing him the photo. He frowns down at it, looking at the two men. “You know who he is?” He asks. “Not a clue.” You shake your head. You shuffle the photos about, looking at a few more before you stop on the last one. It’s a photo of your father accepting a business award from the same man. “Wait.” You murmur, setting the photo down and picking the file back up. Flicking through the pages, you stop when you come to the documentation about your father’s business. “Received business award of excellence from partner and brother Alexander Pierce.” You read out. Bucky freezes. “What?” He frowns. “You know that name?” You ask. “I’ve heard it before, no idea where from though.” Bucky massages his forehead with his hand as you mull over the document. “This guy is in all of my father’s business contracts. He’s got major cuts in all of his payments, all of his deals.” You say, flicking through the papers. “But.” You stop, pulling out the documentation for his will. “Alexander Pierce received nothing when he died.” You point out on the paper. “You think he could be behind all of this?” Bucky asked. “He could be.” You nod slowly, putting the papers back into the folder. “You got any information about Pierce?” You ask. “M’not sure.” Bucky types out the name into the database, coming up empty. “Nothing, sorry sweetheart.” Bucky sighs. You put all of the papers and photos back and you rub your eyes.

You gently brush Bucky’s hands away from the keyboard and you bring up a search engine, typing in Pierce’s name. “Pierce was a successful businessman but was jailed in 2015 when he was found to be involved with arms dealing and again in 2016 when his accomplices for a case about trafficked drugs admitted to being partnered with him and Pierce’s sentence was extended by ten years. He escaped early last year and has never been seen since.” You read out. Bucky’s phone rings and he pushes away from the desk to answer it. You hear him talking, but don’t really pay attention to what he’s saying while you pack up the boxes again. “I’ve gotta go, sugar.” Bucky announces, walking towards you. “What? Where are you going?” You frown up at him. “Things have gone sideways with Steve; I have to go and help him.” He explains briefly. “What do you mean?” You question but Bucky just gives you a tight hug and a gentle kiss to the forehead before rushing out. “Be careful!” You shout after him. “You too, sweetheart!” You hear his voice echo through the doorway and you’re left in complete silence.

You look down at the photo of Pierce with your father you sigh. Looking into the eyes of Pierce, you feel cold when you stare at him. A shiver creeps up your back. You start to feel nervous and uncomfortable. The light above you flickers slightly and you let out a shaky breath. You start to feel anxious and jumpy. The odd sound here and there make you look around sceptically.

And then it dawns on you. You’re not alone.

__________________________

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