#its because i finally figured out why I was having writers block (I didn't have a clear objective in mind)

[watery-melon-baller]

lads a script is being written!!!

[paranormalactivity5]

LUPRICALIA

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Summary: Eddie leads you to believe he doesn't like valentines, when its quite the opposite, he even plans a whole cute day based on old pagan lupricalia traditions. Eddie munson x fem!reader

Notes: the reader is alternative my fics are x chubby!reader unless stated otherwise. Readers' hair is teased/messy in a cute way, please let me know if this makes the fic uninclusive. For the fit think Misa Amanes pink outfit with the heart but red and and one piece. Cross posted on tumblr and wattpad under paranormalactivity/paranormalactivity5g

A/N: sorry for bad writing english IS my first language. As a pagan and overall spooky girl you know I had to make this my Valentine fic. Although no magick occurs in the fic pagan rituals are discussed. Sorry i never post, writers block is pretty much my natural state

Warnings: none just fluff, but there are references to sexual acts and swearing ig, bad writing, loooong paragraphs sometimes, not proof read WC: 1.5k a shortiee

Eddie Munson was a very observant person, and he prided himself on that, but you didn't have to be observant to notice the change in his girlfriend. It wasn't anything bad just…..different than her usual attire. Instead when she walked up to the bench in the woods where they usually met, a red dress with a heart cut out on the chest adorned her body, a chain hanging loosely on the swell of her waist, paired with black fishnets, a black undershirt that covered her arms and had been torn perfectly, along with black go-go boots and teased hair. She walked up with a pretty smile painted on her red stained lips 

“Hi baby” you announced yourself, the boy got up to greet you bringing you into a tight hug and swaying back and forth “Hi princess” in his smooth yet grovely voice that always made your heart flutter. “So not that you don't look gorgeous….but, what's with the getup?”  “uhh it's almost Valentine's Day?” you replied as if it was obvious “And?” “And? What do mean and?” you said exasperated by him already “And how does it almost being valentines Day warrant this?” “Because baby it's a beautiful day, a day all about celebrating love, don't you wanna celebrate our love?” she went on teasily, looking at him through her lashes causing him to get distracted for a minute, his eyes falling on the small heart cut out on the chest, allowing him to see the tops of your plump breasts but as his eyes went back up they caught on your half of the matching guitar pick necklaces you wore and it reminded him of the topic, love. “I do that every day!” he protested “Fine, you don't have to love it, just let me have it.” you replied kind of disappointed, why could he not get with the of having a day about yourselves and your love? But oh he could and he was going to, you just didn't know it yet.

Eddie was trying to figure out how to surprise you on Valentine's while also making it more personal, not just store bought chocolates and a small bear when he was reading the Hawkins post and saw a column speaking of the horrors of an old pagan holiday lupricalia perfect. Now, while it was a struggle to find reliable information on it in the small conservative town of Hawkins he finally found some information he was immediately ecstatic at the idea. A lot of the traditions weren't doable, things like animal sacrifice and running around naked whipping women with animal hide, but the other ones, feast, and sex? Yeah, he could do that. So he took out some of his rainy day money, booked a reservation at one of the nicer spots in Hawkins, and began planning

Ever the overthinker eddies not caring replayed in your head for the last 13 days until the day before Valentine's. Did he really think celebrating love was stupid? If so could he not at least pretend for you? Meanwhile, it was absolutely killing Eddie to pretend he didn't care, he could tell it was bothering him, and knowing you were upset because of him hurt, hopefully tomorrow will make up for it.

You awoke at around 10 AM to the smell of pancakes, which confused you because Eddie is many things, but a cook is not one. When you got out of bed walking out of the bedroom into the kitchen of the Munson trailer you quickly corrected yourself, you were smelling burnt pancakes. You stood at the enge of the hallway looking at your man listening to his string of curses for making concrete pancakes until he noticed you “Baby!” he almost shouted as you startled him “Nooooo you weren't supposed to wake up until the pancakes were ready……or I made a second batch” he chuckled awkwardly at the last part but you didn't care about that, you walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, gave him a quick peck and when you pulled back you told him “I dont care about that honey, I care that you tried…..and convinced me that you aren't just a heartless man who hates valentines” He giggled into your neck “well I hope I can do more convincing with everything I have planned today” when he said this you immediately kissed him deeply, something about him going out of his way to plan a day with you always seems to get you going “mmph” he groaned into the clip and then pulled away “as much as I love this…thats for later” “so, whats all the fun planned today?” you questioned “well, while we are celebrating i do think that valentines day is a little generic, i decided to make it a bit more personal” you nodded along, already loving this “so i found out the history of valentines day and it comes from a pagan tradition called Lupricalia, and i figure thats more fitting for us, so i figured out the ways they celebrated and fit it into our world” god you loved this man “So they used to have animal sacrificesand obviously we cant do that so i figured we can go see the new nightmare on elm street, seems horrific enough, and then we feast at the marriot on 34th street, and then the one thing that hasent changed, we have hot, passionate sex” he clasps him hands together and all you can think about is how much you love him “i love you so much Eddie Munson” the feeling overwhelmed you so much you just had to voice it.  the cutest smile splayed across his face “i love you too princess, now go get ready!” he spoke excitedly and swatted your body as you walked back into the bedroom.

You got yourself ready by putting on a black bustier top with lace trim, a red velvet skirt, and a belt with a bat buckle adorning your waist, again paired with your black gogo boots, and makeup done perfectly when you were ready about an hour later then Eddie and you walked out into the living room where he was sat, he just starred at you, which began to make you nervous until he spoke “god your so fucking pretty” his words instantly made you feel shy “like I wish you could like, be in my head and see you walk into the room,...it would change your life” he always managed to make you feel like a giggly little girl with your first crush “you look very handsome yourself sir” you walked up to him and laid your hand on his bicep, and his face immediately went up in flames, he knew you were easy to fluster, but you knew he was too. As you walked out the door he quickly walked in front of you so he could reach the old van first and open your door “Your chariot awaits madame” in his best British accent “Why thank you kind sir” you replied in your own

When you arrived at the theatre for the screening of Elm Street 3 you got your popcorn and made your way in. About 2 hours later you come out, the movie was pretty good, and while some would argue that it's not a Valentine's movie you think it was perfect. When you arrived at the restaurant it was a bit more on the fancy side, you wondered about the possible cost of this, Eddie could sense this and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

The food was absolutely delectable and it got you wondering what dessert might be like “You know what sounds amazing?” you asked “What?” “dessert” “Ohhhhh…you know what sounds even better? Free desert.” you were confused for a moment when he started to slip one of your rings off your finger but when he got down on one knee, you got what was happening here “y/n l/n, my beautiful girl, my time with you has been the best of my life, you make me see the world in a new way. I love you in ways I never thought imaginable, every day when I look at you, I love you more, which I never think is possible but it always is, will you do me the honor, and let me be your husband?” you started fake crying, which some of it was real due to his words and got up from your seat with a loud yes then kissed him proudly. The other people in the restaurant clapped a little and within 5 minutes there was a slice of chocolate cake on your table. You and Eddie giggled to each other while eating the dessert until you looked up from the cake and saw him looking at you in which a way Aphrodite herself would point and smile “You know I meant every word and one day I really am gonna ask you, I mean there will be a lot more words and a lot more crying but one day…I’m gonna put a ring on your finger..if you’ll so have me.” “of course I'll have you Eddie” You both awkwardly leaned over the table and kissed. As you pulled back you noticed the mark your red lipstick left and went to wipe it away “Leave it.” he protested

When you got home that night and walked into the trailer you pulled him in by his belt loops “Thank you, Eddie, this has truly been amazing.” “no need to thank me, I enjoyed it just as much” You kissed him with all the passion and love that had built up through the night “Now..” you spoke softly “time for some of that hot, passionate sex you were talking about earlier” he grinned devilishly.

A/N: girl you sucked the SOUL outta him that night. Dw he sucked your soul too.

[skarsbabe]

Sol y Luna; a confidential job.

summary; starting on the wrong foot the head over heels soldier is determined to change the heart of a feisty woman, unfortunately soldiers don't beat their allegations to lying.

TW.

a/n; This is chapter two hehee, another playful banter from these two. I also deeply apologize for a super late chap 2 due to being too busy and being on a goddamn writer's block :,)

"What?" she asked, sweat clinging to her skin beneath the unforgiving sun, which poured over them like golden melancholy—his own repressed fantasies bathing in light.

What was it about this girl? What did she have that made him feel more than anything he'd ever known? Why was he—a soldier, hardened and trained to detach—completely and utterly bewitched?

None of it made sense. The more she spoke, the deeper she dragged him into a daze. Her voice? Hypnotic. Her presence? Catastrophic. He was losing his grip.

"Did you hear what I said?" she repeated, her tone edged with irritation.

She looked him up and down with narrowed eyes. This man had been staring—not blinking, not speaking—for the past five minutes. It was weird. She was covered in blood stains from a seven-hour surgery, wearing scruffed-up scrubs, and yet here he was, looking at her like she'd walked out of a dream.

Bills finally blinked. “I—well, you’re sexy in the operating room. Did anybody else tell you that?”

The second the words left his mouth, his face flushed bright red. Seriously? He had faced down enemies without blinking, but this woman? She turned him into a stammering idiot with the emotional range of a schoolboy.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, arms crossed, clearly amused. “Wow. Good line, Captain. Keep that up and I might have to file a restraining order.”

He winced internally. Smooth. Real smooth.

“Did you remember what I asked five minutes ago?” she added. “Are you, for some reason, disabled?”

Disabled from your beauty, he almost blurted, but that would’ve buried him six feet deeper.

“No. I was just…” He quickly pulled himself together, flashing a lopsided grin as he held out a small paper bag and a coffee cup with her name scribbled across it—and a tiny, barely visible heart in the corner. “You’re Y/N L/N, right? I asked around. Thought you might be hungry.”

She blinked. Okay. She wasn’t expecting that.

“Are you the guy who waited all night for the patient?” she asked, slowly taking the bag. “In any case, thank you. But I don’t exactly demand gifts in exchange for saving lives.”

He chuckled. “Could’ve fooled me. Everyone’s been raving about the sexy doctor. I figured I had to meet her myself.”

Then—just like that—his expression shifted. Gone was the goofy grin. In its place was something more solemn.

“I’m here to apologize.”

Oh. He was the gang boss from earlier. Her face hardened with recognition.

“Well,” she said, folding the top of the bag, “you’re acquitted from your crime now. For the donut and everything.”

His smile returned, though a little sadder. “Good. Because I think I might’ve already lost a war I didn’t know I was fighting.”

She stared at him for a beat too long. His words lingered in the space between them like a loaded gun—I think I might’ve already lost a war I didn’t know I was fighting.

Cute. But she wasn't buying it.

Y/N sighed and reached for the phone at her side, her thumb already dialing. “Right,” she muttered, “well, if you’re the same idiot who got into a brawl outside the triage tent, then you’re officially a threat to a medical operation. I’ll have to call base command—maybe even press for suspension. You're lucky you’re pretty.”

Bill narrowed his eyes, amused but half-terrified. “Suspension? Are you serious?”

“Oh, very.”

The phone was ringing already, pressed firmly to her ear. Her eyes didn't even leave him—confident, challenging, infuriating. And honestly, it made him want to kiss her and strangle her at the same time.

He stepped closer, a glint in his eye. “Don’t do it.” She tilted her head. “Try me.” and then—swift and unexpected—he flipped the phone right from her hand with two fingers, effortlessly catching it before it hit the ground.

Y/N gasped. “Excuse me—what the hell—!”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a step forward, holding the phone behind his back like a child hiding candy. His smile was lopsided, that smug, cocky grin that she hated. (And maybe hated how much she liked.)

“I’m trying to say sorry here,” he murmured, his voice suddenly softer. “Not sure if flirting counts as a criminal offense. If so, I guess I’m guilty.” She blinked, flustered. “You are not charming.”

“I absolutely am.”

“You are the opposite of charming.”

He stepped even closer now—close enough that she could feel the warmth off his chest, close enough that the blood and sweat and raw exhaustion of the day blurred into something else entirely.

He held up her phone between them, gently placing it back in her hand. His fingers brushed against hers for just a moment too long.

“I’ll make it up to you, Angel.”

“You don’t even know my name.”

“I do,” he said. “Y/N L/N. Angel. Surgeon. Looks criminally good in scrubs. Likes black coffee and tries to act like she’s not secretly the softest person alive.”

Her throat tightened slightly. His gaze was steady. It wasn’t just a line. He meant it.

“Stop it,” she muttered.

“Stop what?”

“Looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m… worth something.”

For once, he didn’t have a smart comeback. He just looked at her, quiet.

And then—

BZZZZZZZTT. His radio went off, crackling with urgency.

“All units, Alpha Squad. Deployment in 5. Repeat, deployment in 5.” He hesitated. Then gave her a long, unreadable look. “I’ll be back,” he said, voice low and sure.

“Don’t bother.” she rollled her eyes before looking down to look at the floor.

But he was already walking away, that same damn grin on his face. He turned, walking backwards just for a second.

“Oh, and Y/N?”

“What?” she called.

“You are charming.”

She scowled. But her lips twitched.

Six weeks later.

The hospital reeked of antiseptic and stress.

Y/N stood hunched over the nurses’ counter, hair a mess, dark circles bruised under her eyes, and a stubborn smear of dried blood on her cheek she hadn’t noticed. Her scrubs looked like they’d been through a war. Her body felt like it had. Twelve hours straight, three emergency surgeries, one code blue. She barely had time to breathe, let alone think.

And yet… she couldn’t help but think of him. Bills.

Stupid name. Stupider face. Dumber smile.

He hadn’t come back after that last mission. No text. No call. Nothing. Just a goodbye carved into the memory of how he’d looked at her before running off to play hero.

She told herself she didn’t care. She was fine.

She was also lying.

“Excuse me, is this where I can file a complaint?”

She froze.

Her hand gripped the edge of the counter as her heart stuttered. That voice. That stupid voice.

She turned around slowly—and there he was.

Captain Bills. Standing in the lobby of her hospital like he’d just walked out of a dream. A little more scruffed up, tanned from the sun, his uniform jacket hanging loose on one shoulder. And that same damn grin on his face like he already knew she was about to murder him.

Y/N blinked. “What the hell—?”

“I was told this place had great customer service,” he said, cocking his head. “But the girl at the front desk hasn’t smiled once.”

“I haven’t smiled in days, you walking liability.”

“God, I missed you.”

She stared at him. He looked genuinely happy to see her. His eyes were drinking her in—messy hair, tired eyes, scuffed shoes and all—and he looked like he might combust from how adorable he thought she looked.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, voice sharper than she meant. “Last I checked, you ghosted like a true champion.”

“I didn’t ghost,” he said, stepping closer. “I deployed.”

“Same thing when you leave without a word.”

“I wanted to say goodbye. You didn’t pick up.”

She blinked again. That was… fair.

“Still,” she muttered, crossing her arms, “I thought that was our final act.”

“It was supposed to be,” he said, quieter this time. “Until I realized something halfway through the desert.”

“What?”

“That if I died without ever taking you on a proper date, I’d be haunted in the afterlife by your sarcastic commentary and judgmental eyebrows.”

She rolled her eyes so hard it nearly gave her whiplash. “You’re unbelievable.”

He smiled wider. “And yet, somehow, you’re still talking to me. Which means I have a chance.”

“No, it means I’m debating calling security.”

“Too late,” he said, holding up a familiar white bag and a coffee cup. “They let me in when I said I was bringing coffee for the pretty doctor with a bad attitude and good hands.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Is that a yes?”

“To what?”

“A date.”

She stared at him for a long second. Tired, annoyed, surprised. And a little—just a little—thrilled.

“…Fine.”

His face lit up like a sunrise. “But if you’re late, or cocky, or disappear on me again—”

“Then I’ll deserve the slap you’ll probably give me in front of the whole cafeteria.”

“Oh, I’m already planning it.” He stepped back, saluted with the coffee cup, and started walking toward the exit.

“Pick you up at eight?” he called.

“You don’t even know where I live.”

“Challenge accepted.”

And with that, he was gone again—this time, not for long.

________

chapter two done! Ehehe I'm gonna post all the pending drafts for this story soon thanks for reading sweeties, muah!

[holybatgirlz]

20 Questions, Writing Edition

Tagged by @setaflow

Tagging @silverhallow @hopepaigeturner and anyone else who wants to!

How many works do you have on AO3?

30 now 🤢. And I didn't start posting to AO3 until like 2019.

What's your total AO3 word count?

565K+ words

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Cluedo Incident of '19

Is He Mine?

half agony, half hope

Buzzfeed Unsolved: True Crime — The Unexplained Death of Jason Todd (this one is also the first fic I ever posted on AO3)

nothing matters

What fandoms do you write for?

I've written for a couple different ones over the years, but currently its Bridgerton. It's where I feel the most comfortable.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

You can see on my first two fics that I didn't, mainly cause I didn't know if I should/wasn't comfortable doing so at the time, but now I do. I suck at commenting so I always feel like I suck at responding to comments, but I still want to make sure people who take the time to comment on my fics know I've seen them.

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't think I really have any that end all that angsty 😂😂

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I usually end them all on a happy note (if I complete them), but since it's my current only finished multichapter fic, I'll put half agony, half hope down as the one with the happiest ending.

Do you get hate on fics?

Finally got my first hate comment on a fic in the year of our lord 2024 (after writing fanfic since 2013) and it was for The Cluedo Incident of '19. But I'm pretty sure it was because that fic blew up in a way I did not see coming. So I wasn't surprise it would end of on the radar of people with no literacy skills.

Do you write smut?

I have, but I don't often. Mainly cause I tend to go back and end of hating it, so I usually only write it if I feel particularly inspired.

Do you write crossovers?

I have only ever done two crossover fics in my life and they are @setaflow's fault. And, to add, I don't personally think I ever will write crossover fics again.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, but I have no issue with someone translating one of my fics. As long as they ask first.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Pretty tricky cause I could say it's benophie since I've written the most of it and its the ship that got me back into writing, but I've liked Dick Grayson and Barbara Gordon since I was young. So, they have a special place in my heart. Bucky Barnes and Natasha Romanoff are also up there on my list.

What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

*pulls at curtain behind me* please pay no attention to the list of WIPs behind me.

I try not to think I'll never finish a fic. I always hope I'll go back and complete it or update it again. 'find me somebody to love' is one I want to complete but don't think I will. However, I am thinking about rewriting it.

What are you writing strengths?

Dialogue and humor.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Grammar. My dyslexic ass has never been able to figure it out. I'd say also describing surroundings or a scene. I feel like I tend to forget to do that when I'm focusing so much on the characters and dialogue.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I don't tend to, just because I always feel like I'll screw it up (especially, if I don't speak the language). So I usually stick to simple words/slang or I italicize it and write that they are speaking another language.

Favorite fic you've ever written?

Hmm...that's tricky cause I try to love all my fics equally (even the ones that are personally trying to kill me because my writer's block won't let me finish). And sometimes I do go back to a fic and feel like I could have done better/should orphan it, but I try not to go through with it.

If I had to say right now, I'd say half agony, half hope (because its the first multichapter fic I ever finished like I've never been prouder of myself for being able to finally do that) and the

[didyouhangthemoon]

A Prison Called Freedom Pt. 2

Aizawa x reader which may or may not be evolving into a Dabi x reader even idk (sorry guys I can't bear but glaze tf out of my divalicious cuntified terroristic king 💔)

Angst

Tw: vague mention of suicide, hospital

link to part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/didyouhangthemoon/786762136662720512/a-prison-called-freedom

Chapter 2:

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||||||• 0:10

I want to go back to bed. But I can't. I'm in a mental ward because all I've ever wanted to do is to go back to bed.

He's here at least. I don't know why he would keep coming back to see me. I can't be the first person he's kept from dying at their own hands. Yet he keeps visiting, asking questions, bringing gifts, and so on. I figured after a few weeks he'd slowly stop visiting, he does have better, more heroic things to do.

Things aren't so hostile anymore, I've hated this white walled, pale blue tile floored medical hellscape. And their little 'don't off yourself 🥺' program didn't work. But he's here, so its not horrible at least.

He mentioned that a nurse told him it was one of my last days, you'd think they'd tell me that too but apparently not.

I'm not particularly hopeful, I'm just tired. I want to go back to bed, my bed.

He last visited three days ago, really early in the morning. He said that the school year is starting back up and he'll have to visit less and at weirder times to fit it in his schedule. He gave me his number but I'm not going to call. I'll be discharged in a few days, he'll hear, he'll call, and I won't pick up. Maybe he'll go to my apartment, I don't know what I'd do then. Play dead? No, that would probably be bad considering my circumstance. Maybe I'll stay with a friend... I hope at least one person would answer my call. It's been a while since I've answered any of theirs. Maybe he won't visit. But something about that feels so... Unnatural at this point.

I really resent how much I've come to like him. He's gentle but firm, he's caring but monitoring, he's distant but he's warm. I don't want to miss him, so I will do everything I can to not think about him, speak to him, or see him. I'll leave here soon and then that's it. I don't need to need anyone. He doesn't really care. He's doing his job. Heroes don't care, I already know this, so I can just repeat it like a mantra everytime he pops into my head.

A heavy sigh escapes my chest and my eyes shut. Nothings happened but im tired.

I want to go back to bed.

જ⁀➴ ♡

(Time skip 2 weeks, sorry I had writers block and this is my solution💔)

જ⁀➴ ♡

I spent my last two weeks in the hospital telling myself I would shut him out. That I wouldn't need help, and even if I did, I wouldn't get it from some hero. But when he showed up at my door to my apartment, I just stared at him. I had braced myself so much and yet I couldn't bring my body to halt. I had prepared so many mean words and arguments and yet my tongue lies still in my mouth.

He steps in and places some takeout on the counter, we don't speak.

Dabi is on the news again. It annoys me because as much as I would die to join the crusade against hero society, I can't even bring myself to leave bed most days. I wonder how people like him, people that are supposed to be miserable and crazy get out of bed. I'm miserable and I'm crazy but I still can't.

When Aizawa notices what's playing, he turns it off immediately, glaring at me like any hero would.

I don't reciprocate the eye contact, rather I slouch down to look through the food he brought before I finally break the silence.

'Ever wonder where we would be if we stopped wasting the word 'hero' on cogs in the machine that reinforce societal classism, patriarchy, and seperation of people?'

'You should tell me all about that in your manifesto. Seems like you're right on the edge of writing one and running off.'

'Can you blame m-'

'Don't tell me you actually think you'd get anywhere. That man- he would rip you into bits and abuse you like nothing you could imagine before tossing you away.'

'Oh really? Do you have any backing to that? Or is it just a stereotype you wanna put on a guy who's threatening your position as a hero?'

'I don't know why you think you know what you're talking about.'

'Look around this shithole and tell me I don't know what it means to be left to rot.'

'You weren't left to rot, don't forget who stopped that.'

'Well if you wanted me to be a good citizen then you should have waited out my door a couple extra minutes. Leave please.'

'What?'

'I'm not letting you stay. Get your food and go, I can't stand the sound of chewing anyways.'

He gives you one more look as he reluctantly leaves without speaking. You sit on the couch sprawled out to turn back on the news while you drink [Insert favorite drink hereฅᨐฅ] like a middle aged alcoholic dad on his porch. All they're taking about is how awful villains are, while they praise heroes again and again and again.

What horse shit.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||||||• 0:10

End Chapter 2

I have no idea in where this fic is gonna go but its gonna go somewhere, could be x Dabi by the end hell it could be x megamind by the end don't ask me I'm just the writer 💔🥀 hope you liked it

[n3mesi5]

Series 0 - Absence

(absence [The element]: Nothingness manifest, can be channeled to annihilate or store large amounts of matter. A tar like substance, viscous like crude oil. Dark enough that light can't escape. It's smokiness its reaction to air making contact.)

[[Why do they call you Absence?]]

A figure of absence, its shape held by a mysterious porcelain-like metal, walks back home after assassinating a king that wronged his creator. "Absence!" a scout shouted, shooting his knees with arrows to force him on the ground. The arrow's strength is enough to blast a chunk of his essence off his person, disintegrating in the ground, yet... He was absent of pain. Gently yanking them off. The rest of the warriors emerged from hiding just to block his path. The best fighters working under the king, not just his champions but also his most closest friends. Their daggers ready to mangle, greatswords held high excited to cleave him in half and finally axes whetted just to butcher his body limb from limb, and yet He was absent of fear.

"Absence... Elaborate?" Absence spoke, curious.

"That's you." Said one of the champions, gritting his teeth in fury for Absence has murdered his king.

"I sense anger. Explain?" Absence asked, curious.

The champion's body, hands shaking in wrath.

"HrggGHH! Are YOU playing Dumb!? HIS BLOOD IS ALL OVER YOU!" Yelled, voice full of fury enough to make the winds part.

"I punished him on behalf of my creator. My quarrels are not with you and my goals are complete. I have no plans to har-" as Absence tried to reason with the King's avengers, he was cut short by the scout, striking his head with an arrow, which Absence has to pull out.

The champion cackled maniacally, before he speak his taunts, the scout covered his mouth.

"You have no reason to entertain him, He is absent of the gifts we possess since we we're born! He is absent of emotions! Absent of EVERYTHING! He has NOTHING!"

"Your claims need citation. I am not absent of emotions, I am filled with anger, I am filled with confusion, I am filled with GRIEF. My creator has healed your sick and taught your young how to write, and your king's reward for him is DEATH!? He does not deserve your malice! But I agree that I have nothing, because your king took EVERYTHING from me." His voice still monotonous as a calm lake, he does not know how to voice his struggles. For he is not human.

The King's champions approached closer, circling around him, while Absence is still confused on their accusations.

"How am I absent of emotions!? Is it because I'm absent of a mouth to smile!? I'm absent of eyes to cry!? I can still feel FEAR! Because I-" A champion lunged at him, axe in hand! cutting his words midway.

Absence delivered his counter-attacks, using the king's own techniques to parry his strikes and then cut the champion in HALF! The remaining champions clutched their weapons tightly as they squared their shoulders, they're gonna put more effort into slaying...

"He didn't kill our king like a coward... He killed the King in one-on-one!?" one of the champions voiced his fear! Confused how this monster managed to learn a technique within a night?!

Absence spoke again feeling the blood trickle down his hands. Continuing where he has left off.

"-I... am scared of humans because I do not understand them... But I can learn, I will learn your source of malice, even if the means involve dissection! I will be ABSENT of MERCY!"

~~~Writers notes~~~

This scene came from an animatic I'm planning, most of the answers to your questions will be there. So stay tuned~

[zeldaelmo]

"Wait there's no ChuChu jelly?"

Wait what??? (What's this mean?)

Thank you for the ask, Daemos!

The prompt is from a follower milestone ages ago, I think it was from linksthoughtbrambles and said, "Wait, there's no Chuchu jelly?"

It's a short story set in the AoC universe about the birthday of Link and Zelda's kid. King Rhoam comes to gift the little princess a giant slide that is much too steep to use and the Champions bring silly gifts, too.

Little Zelda only cares about playing a tossing game with Terrako, however, that involves Chuchu jelly. I started the story when I was hit with writer's block and still haven't figured out the ending. That's why it's still a wip.

Honestly, I probably need to share the whole thing with someone who brainstorms a bit with me to finally think of an ending because waiting for inspiration clearly hasn't worked so far. 🙈

Mama!” Her daughter protested. “Hair messy! Hair Papa ‘gain!”

“You want me to draw your hair back into a ponytail like Papa has?” Zelda asked.

The little princess Zelda, or Zel, how they called her to differ from her mother, nodded and raised her hands to twiddle with the strands she could reach.

Zelda took the strands out of her hands and wrapped one of Link’s blue hair ties around them. Outside the throne room, she heard the rummaging and ruckus of the party preparation, but for now they had a moment of silence left. The always-present guards stood still and bored, melting so much into the walls that they nearly disappeared from her mind.

When she had finished her work, little Zel wiggled her head and beamed at her. Then, she pointed at Terrako bouncing around the throne. “‘rako no hair.”

Zelda chuckled. “No. Terrako has no hair.”

“‘rako play?” Little Zel asked, half to Zelda, half to the small guardian. It made a long, approving sound and tugged at Zel’s dress with its claw.

“Go ahead!” Zelda said. “There's still some time until Papa will be back.”

“Papa Chuchu?”

“I'm sure he'll love playing a game of tossing and catching Chuchu jelly with you. It's your special day, after all, right?”

“Cecil day,” she repeated in a hum to herself and turned to Terrako. They began little Zel’s favorite game: Terrako propelled a blue Chuchu jelly in his claw and flung it towards her when she expected it less. She never caught it, but that didn't bother her. Cheering and clapping in delight, she picked it up again and gave it back to Terrako for another round.

Zelda glanced at the guards and slumped on the throne. Moments where anybody wanted something from her and little Zel was enjoying herself were spread thin, if she was honest. She just wondered if she should call for a cup of tea, when the majestic doors to the throne room opened with a lot of noise and Link came in.

Or, well, his behind came in. He pushed backwards through the doors, pulling at something that must have an enormous weight. Something made of wood, if the planks she spotted when she stood up were any indication.

“A bit more to the left, little guys!” Daruk's booming voice came from outside. One by one, the Champions appeared in the door, each pushing at the same object as Link.

It was hard to tell what it was supposed to be. A statue? A new divine beast made of wood? A prototype of one of Robbie and Purah’s crazy ideas?

What was clear, however, was that it must be a gift for Zel: A big blue bow was wrapped around the top.

“Link! What is that?! We agreed on something small and not whatever this is!” she called through the throne room, gesturing towards the giant something.

[vroerry]

Melody of Scribblers

Nagito Komaeda x gn reader (sfw)

Word count: 854

The soft night breeze entered the old library building every once in a while. The windows on the upper floor were opened to cool the building down. The sound of the wind also calmed you down.

You sat in the library of the first island, writing in a journal that was always with you. All your thoughts, rhymes, feelings were kept inside it. Everything that was a part of you, was a part of that journal.

As the ultimate poet, you had filled countless journals already. This one was also about to end. You couldn't help it. The situation of a killing game has awoken the dystopian poet inside of you, making you write like you were running out of time. It was kind of right. You were running out of time. You just didn't know how much time you had left. The words appeared on the paper as you dragged your pen along. They formed words, sentences then a text. You smiled at the filled page. And then an idea struck you.

"Melody of Scribblers" The pen rushes through the paper, dragging a line along, it rounds the letters in a haste, forming them words. The punctuations take their final place but alas, the momentum keeps on. The pen runs and runs, jumping over the edge dodging the lines and rows, hiding from the correction fluid. Suddenly. The hand stops. In a moment, a word is crossed out, its head falling off, rolling away. Chaos has struck. The paper feels it. The inhabintants feel it.

"What are you doing?" you hear a familiar voice behind you. You jump, dropping your pen and looking at the figure who has entered the libarby. Slender body, pale skin,grey-green eyes... Nagito. You let out of a sigh of relief. Then immediately realise he isn't the best company either.

"Just... writing" you reply, closing your journal.

"Ah! I see the ultimate poet is doing their absolute best! Are going to spread hope with your poems?" his eyes lit up with some sort of excitement as he sits next to you. "Tell me about your work!"

"Ah, it isn't really that interesting" you reply. "I just... Write what I feel. I don't plan on changing the work."

"Surely, there must be someting motivating you" he says. You simply shrug.

"I don't know. I just write when I write."

"May I... Look at your work?" he asks. You think about it for a moment. This could go horribly wrong, or just right. In the end. You open your journal and show him the piece you were just working on.

"Here... This isn't finished, but... You can read what I have so far..." You hand him the journal and he starts reading. His eyes reading every single word, looking behind every line. You take a breath to calm yourself. Somehow you're always nervous when showing people your works. No matter who it is. No matter why you wrote it.

"Hm... This is really simple" he suddenly speaks up. "It doesn't feel like poetry. It isn't even wrapped"

"Because it isn't supposed to be" You reply. 'It's just...The feeling of a writers block... That's it"

"I do not believe you" he scoffs. "The ultimate poet is the ultimate poet for a reason... Show me one of your actually...Good poems. That moves me to tears" he demands. You simply close the journal.

"No" you reply. "You don't like it? Read someone else then" he laughs.

"Come on! I want to see how your talent truly shines! I want a real introduction to the ultimate poet! Your poems usually must be hopeful, empowering...!" he dreams. You sigh.

"Sure, sure..." you decide to leave it to him. "How about this... I write the ultimate poem and you leave me alone?"

"No. Choose your best poem from these." he commands. "That would be cheating" you sigh and flip open the journal. And quickly realise, there is no hopeful or empowering poem. The pages are filled up to the brim with despair. You decide on a poem, and start reading.

"Crimson is trickling under the bus, metallic odour fills the air, The end is coming, shower, and the reaper stands before me. And the leafs fall under beneath the midnoon light, My heart sinks, seeing your image blurring away. I walk the streets alone with a band in my ears. I leave the school grounds, you stand there. I saw you in the halls, roaming around, laughing. Alive. Even though I didn't deserve your words, I loved you. Treated me as a ghost, making me question everything. My dear, do not loathe me, I loved you for all. But you shoved me away, fed me with lies and pain. Tried to talk, tried to solve it all, but you left me. Ugly, love is, when you're not here."

"Well, certainly not hopeful or empowering" he speaks. "But I liked this one. So your loved one passed away?"

"Just in my heart" you reply. He nods.

"Tomorrow, we'll write hopeful poems together! How does that sound?" he asks. You smile at him.

"Sounds nice..."

And you meant it.

Ps: Poems by me! I had to translate them, so some things were lost in translation.

[theloveinc]

I am returning the favor 😘 4 and 25 for the violence asks

4. what was the last straw that made you finally block that annoying person?

this is so funny bc i almost asked you this one, ace!! but then i thought someone (me) might get their feelings hurt so i didn't LMFAOOO, but honestly, i'm not really sure?

i'm not really a blocker because (i'm a baby and) i don't really dislike anyone that strongly? even people i'm not exactly a fan of, it's not like i don't... wanna see them? if that makes sense?

but hmmmmmmmmmmmm, the last straw for someone........? honestly i have not blocked anyone in AGES i don't even know. but i have unfollowed people for breaking moots before and there is someone on here i'm really sad abt not being moots with (bc i love them and they followed ihb right before i left and never figured out why they never came back?) so i had to unfollow bc i just starting thinking mean things for no reason lol.

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

oh my god. so many. so, sooooo many. not even because i disagree w the complaint but because it's gotten to the point where i think its so useless to complain when nothing is gonna change no matter what u say!!!

i guess a non-typical one i'm sick of (cuz i was really referring to the blank blog problem w/ that comment)... is...... how do i say...................... complaining abt how readers ask too much of writers.

idk. it's hard to express because on one hand, no one should be overworked or feel obligated to produce writing. But on the other hand, i think readers do a lot more for this site than is really appreciated, and even the dumb requests that get sent... do mean the person appreciates you in a lot of ways? and just don't deserve to be entirely tormented?

it's also kinda grating to me atp because ik other fandom insert communities work differently... so it often could be someone just isn't used to doing something a certain way, and therefore get confused when they transfer over to a new community where the norms are different (such as no requests, or reading news rules).

PLUS, most vocal readers are really kind and respectful! there's just always going to be a certain handful of people who break the boundaries, and shouldn't get lumped in with the people here who actually make this place great. which is why sometimes i think all the salt is unnecessary.

it's actually a huge dilemma for me, LOL. but I love u, ace! and thank u for returning the favor<3

-

(choose violence ask game!)

[justworthlessreblogs]

waffleverse: full bibury fic author's notes

this fic is so long and i had so many writing decisions/notes i wanted to talk about that they couldn't all fit in ao3's 5000 character limit. so i figured i might as well put them here. they'll be under a cut to prevent any accidental spoilers!

writing notes:

- first off this fic drove me CRAZY. another one of its nicknames was “the frankenfic” because i really did feel like i had 3 fics i was shoving into one. and it also took on a life of its own. every day i wake up and scold myself for deciding that covering 33-40 was a good idea. it was not helped by me not having many strong feelings about any of the episodes in that set, which led to me feeling really bored when writing them, and then in the last month of writing i said “fuck it, we ball” and started just making up shit. i also remembered Hey I Made Bibury Try To Kill Rio Back In May I Should Do Something About That. so you get bibury backstory! plus i was sad that they never explore her’s and rio’s time working under noir in canon aside from like. one scene in episode 18

- rio is trying his best to be better at emotions but it is definitely an uphill battle and not linear. the other cures meant well by accepting bibury so easily - after all, it didn’t really work out that great when they were constantly suspicious of him - but he didn’t see it the same way they did. in his eyes bibury was getting away with everything even though she did similar things to him. this was inspired by how the show itself does not seem to ever hold bibury accountable (at least as of where i’m at) but makes it very clear that rio needed to do something to make up for what he did (which i am fine with! this is not a “omg poor rio he was so hated by the writers” moment. i just found it interesting and thought i could explore it)

- episode 37 was the reason for like. nearly all of my original writer's block. it almost got cut, but in the end 34 got the chopping block instead because i felt that bibury didn't really have a justification to be there and 36 got basically entirely cut because i thought it was boring. plus 37 was just… too important to not acknowledge unfortunately. i still definitely want to write a waffleverse version of 34, though, i just think it’d work better on its own! which is why i summarized it here. i had the entire thing written out and saved it, so the original version will probably get uploaded to spice of life someday

- rio being like “i am so mad at my sister. however she is upset so i will make her waffles” was very funny to me. the duality of rio kuroki

- i left the bib & rio talk at the end open-ended, since i had so many things they could have possibly discussed that i couldn’t fit them all in naturally no matter how hard i tried. so let your imaginations go wild lol. however i guess i do have to thank that original draft of their conversation since it was the thing that finally, finally, made me figure out what i wanted from this fic - exploring not just bibury, but bibury and rio. this fic was originally a lot more ciel-heavy than what the final product ended up being, and frankly bib & rio didn’t interact much at all, and i wasn’t able to get to the bottom of why they still hated each other until i remembered. hey. attempted murder

- you are all so lucky that i ended up incorporating 26 into this fic because the original plan was for the scenes that changed to be stuck into spice of life when i got around to writing them someday. the mcu-ification of waffleverse is defeated for another day

- no fantastic animale because i really dislike those super forms and the attack. this is one of two times i have actively disregarded canon, i usually try to stick as close to canon events as possible (which is why the crystal animals are in this. you have no idea how badly i wanted to cut them). fantastic animale is Just That Bad. this was literally the first thing i decided after i started planning this fic. so animal-go-round is powerful enough in this ‘verse. just roll with it please

- no "do sweets bring sadness?" dilemma here because i didn't vibe with that part of the episode. i was looking forward to bibury shenanigans :( the crystal animals are just cielbib shippers /j

- if the writing seems disjointed i apologize it's because this thing was written on and off over a period of 3 months and is also super long

- i had so much fun writing the bathroom scene. finally allowing myself silly rights. the flashback scenes were also really enjoyable

- i messed with the yukari v. kirarin fight because i was a little disappointed with how it played out in canon. yukari tells everyone right away here because she had a Realization because of part 4. kirarin is more resistant than the average fairy to diable in this universe but not fully immune

- RIO FINALLY GETS TO SAY FUCK WOOHOO i've waited so long for this. also bibury is definitely a character who would cuss if the show's rating wasn't the japanese equivalent of tv-y7 so i was a little looser here

- you all know it in your hearts that aoi was 100% a vine kid. also there was no way i was letting that joke slip past me

- did the math and i'm preeettty sure that rio's age in the prologue section checks out with the waffleverse timeline? when i started this series i was under the impression that rio had been gone for way longer than what the series ended up implying, and so in waffleverse i decided he was gone for about a year. he's 12-about-to-turn-13 in the prologue and 14 in the present (his & ciel’s birthday was shortly after part 4!)

-bib starts calling him rio pretty quickly because a) she may have been evil, but she respects people's preferred name choices and b) yukari already had an arc about realizing how he's not julio anymore and i really didn't want to write that same arc a second time!

- waffle’s secondary attack finally shows up!!! waffle protége my beloved. giving him some sort of barrier just Felt Right (and waffles are the perfect shape for it). i like to think he can split it apart and use it offensively a la rosetta reflection. it was originally supposed to show up in 34 (which got cut) then in 37 (then i cut the battle from the episode since it felt very forced) and then i worried i wouldn’t be able to fit it in at all but got the opportunity with the climax rewrite

- in regard to bib's aging i'm going with "noir's presence slowed down her aging a lot somehow, so she may be chronologically 106 or so, but in all other aspects she's around 13-14 and will now start aging normally again". the same would've happened to rio had he stayed with noir longer. insert noir child labor joke here

- hey remember that time noir tried to take rio back!? i guess 40 kinda busted that for canon by establishing he sees them all as expendable but in my defense while i was writing part 3 i saw it more as a twilight-dyspear situation. and then i ran with that. at this point i’m just gonna have to accept that waffleverse isn’t purely canon divergence any more thanks to me writing it as i watch the show, which leads to the show debunking things from earlier parts 

- was a bit disappointed that the great fairy meeting episode didn't really involve, well, a meeting. so they actually get some time to talk strategy here! i'm so sad the technological limitations of ichigoyama meant that i couldn't have waffle give a powerpoint presentation on noir like i wanted to. it would've been so funny. maybe i'll make it for fun someday

- yeah i messed with episode 40 like. a lot. sorry. it's just how it ended up working out tbh. i actually debated back and forth for literal months on if i should give bib a "canon cure waffle" moment or not, and nearly did it, but decided against it because in the end it just didn't feel quite right for a multitude of reasons. so you were going to get fairy combat and then bib yelling at grave instead. and then that got rewritten once i decided i wanted to expand more on why rio & bib are so antagonistic to each other. you can still see traces of the original climax though in ciel showing up with the fairies, as well as the part where bib confronts grave! bib also originally wasn’t supposed to be dragged into the town with them, she was gonna stay on the mountain and then venture down with ciel and the fairies. but rio said Nope She’s Coming With Us once the fic's course changed direction

- my beta enabled me on the "bibury hasn't slept in an actual bed in a century" thing. i originally sent it to him as a joke. he told me to go ahead with it. but let's be real noir would do something fucked up like that

- let waffle fight the townspeople 2k23. this is the other time i actively disregarded canon in the fic idc what it says He Would Do It

- bibury’s verbal beatdown of grave was inspired by her canon one in episode 40

- ciel & bib's relationship isn't gonna progress past "mutual crush" at any point in waffleverse simply because i cannot write romance sorry. rest assured it blossoms into a beautiful love story. they get married on the island where they met properly for the first time. rio is ciel's best man

- i came to the realization that a lot of my decisions regarding this fic were along the lines of "fuck canon". idk what that means

[atalana]

kind of an adjacent topic but if i can offer some advice that helped me get that kind of trust with my work

so i did a theatre degree, which was pretty equal parts acting, tech, and playwriting, and i put a particular focus on that last one in my final year

and to lend the playwright's perspective, so much of what we did in uni was "you have five minutes, get into groups and tell us a story" (it's an activity that has a lot of uses)

so you learn not to get bogged down on perfectionism and detail, and you learn to break down a story into its bare components. a person wants something so they go and get it, that is a story, congratulations. it's not a particularly good or detailed one, but oh there's more time and we can make it longer? okay now you throw in an obstacle.

they want it and there's someone in their way so they have to get past that person and they get it. okay WHY was the person in their way? what do THEY want? okay now what if the protagonist wants more than one thing and they conflict? what if there's other people involved?

the complexity of the story builds up based on how much time you have to tell it. and here's the kicker - people are the most complex thing on this planet. the backstory and in-depth life of characters are one of the top blocks in this pyramid!

one semester i had to turn in a short play every single week and i never knew who my characters were until i finished the play. hell, sometimes i never found out who they were because that wasn't the point of that particular play. or sometimes i didn't have time to flesh out the characters so all i knew was what they wanted. which... is okay

i've written successful plays with highly complex and fleshed out characters, but the characters personalities (or anything except what that character wanted) were never the first step. i discovered who they were along the journey

and like im not trying to say anyone has to write a story in any particular order, do what's right for you, but i think a lot of young writers start with these really well developed characters, but then they don't know what to do with them, they don't know how all their stories intersect or which wants to focus on. it's like trying to build a house starting with the windows

whatever story you want to tell, if you're struggling to know where to go with it, see if you can summarise the entire story in one page

and then regardless of whether or not you can do that, try summarising it in one paragraph. and then one sentence

if you can't break your story down that easily, then you've gotten too lost in the clouds and you need a solid foundation. find the foundation and then work back up to where you were

and if you can summarise your story in one page, one paragraph, and one sentence, keep those on hand. because it's your guide whenever you get lost. you may not know if your character passes points C, D and E or F, G and H along the way from A to B, but you know they get from A to B. that's fixed. and then you can figure out the middle based on what works best for the kind of story you want to tell

What they don’t tell you about storytelling is that it becomes an instinct over time. You learn how to kind of … intuitively chain events together over time. That doesn’t mean it’s a cakewalk, or that you never get stuck on plotbeats, but you have a better time walking yourself out of corners that you as a less experienced writer would have been tempted to abandon your story over. Because you’ve been stuck in similar corners before; you know how you get out now.

I know its frustrating to keep hitting dead ends, but you got this. You’ll learn a little from every roadblock you hit.

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime — Epilogue // Wanda Maximoff

chapter fourteen | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad

author’s note: the final part is here! thanks again to everyone who stuck around with this fic, i really appreciate it 😊💗 now enjoy!!

The sound of a rooster crowing pulled me from my slumber and I groaned when I realised I definitely wasn't getting back to bed anytime soon.

Quiet laughter came from beside me and I didn't have to open my eyes to know that Wanda was finding my disgruntled self entertaining.

"I said yes to the chickens," I mumbled tiredly, not opening my eyes as I stupidly thought it would let me contain my sleep for a little bit longer, "but I should have drawn the line at the rooster."

Her fingers grasped my shoulder as she rolled over to hover above me. I squinted through my tired eyes, seeing the amused smile on her lips as she looked down at me. Despite how much of a morning person I wasn't, I appreciated how beautiful she looked with bed hair and a nightie.

"Shut up," she said jokingly, and I closed my eyes again. "You love them."

I rolled my eyes beneath closed lids. "I'd love to cook them, sure."

She slapped my shoulder gently. "Don't talk about Nikolai, Vanya and Sonia like that!"

A smile ghosted my lips. The first thing she'd done when getting the damn chickens was name them the most Sokovian names she could think of – I shouldn't have expected anything less. Though, now it meant she was extremely attached to them.

"My apologies, love," I mumbled.

She hummed disapprovingly before putting her whole body weight on top of me and hugging me. I sighed contently, resting an arm around her waist and appreciating the feeling of her so close to me. I could have fallen back asleep in this position if it wasn't for Wanda's wide-awake, curious self. Why did she have to be such a morning person?

"So, what are your plans for today?" she asked, fingers scratching against my shoulder blade tenderly.

I exhaled calmly. "I'm going to attempt to fall back asleep right now... then I'll let you know afterwards when I wake up."

She didn't say anything after that, and I was stupid to believe I'd gotten away with it because she suddenly got up and straddled me, jumping up slightly and startling me awake.

"Wake up!" she ordered, too hyper for my sleepy self.

I groaned, rubbing my eyes and finally opening them to see her looking down at me with a grin, hair falling around her face. There was a hint of annoyance in my expression as I narrowed my eyes, but she ignored it as she rested her hands on my chest.

"I hate you," I muttered.

"You're up now, so let's do something," she insisted, making me roll my eyes. "We should go on a walk. It's pretty outside. The sun's rising and it'll be fun!"

The sun's rising because its bloody dawn and that damn rooster crows at the same time every day, leaving me disgruntled and annoyed.

But of course, I didn't have the energy to explain that to Wanda, so I simply shook my head and closed my eyes. "Maybe tomorrow, Wanda."

She suddenly leaned down, jolting me slightly and making me open my eyes. She was inches away from my face as she pouted.

"Not tomorrow, now!" she exclaimed loudly, before leaning forward and peppering kisses all over my face.

I sighed, keeping her stable by resting a hand on her waist, but not appreciating the fact that falling asleep would definitely be a challenge now.

"I love you, Wanda, but please keep it down," I said quietly, still not used to her energy so early in the morning.

"Tell me what I can do to wake you up," she said sternly, stopping kissing me and sitting upright again.

"Absolutely nothing, love."

"Oh? Nothing?"

I hummed and closed my eyes again, getting used to her weight on top of me and deciding I could probably fall back asleep if she was quiet long enough. Wishful thinking, of course.

Her fingers found mine and she slowly lifted my hand, putting it underneath her dress and on her thigh. I knew what she was doing – it was cute – but it wouldn't work.

Not even bothering to open my eyes, I said, "Wanda, darling, we've been together for three years. I am able to resist your charm, believe it or not."

"Really?" she asked challengingly, letting go of my hand and resting hers on my shoulders. "I don't believe you."

Before I could counter her with a response, she leaned down and began nibbling on my ear softly. It was a sensation I was familiar with, but I refused to let her get her way, so I ignored her stubbornly. She knew me too well though, as she let go of my ear and trailed kisses down my neck before sucking on the skin sensually. Admittedly, I was a lot more awake then I was thirty seconds ago, definitely aroused by the gorgeous woman on top of me, but she couldn't win this. Not when she was playing very unfairly.

"Wanda," I said with a warning tone, squeezing her thigh and signalling for her to stop.

I should have figured that would provoke her even more, as she manoeuvred herself so her knee was now pressing between my legs. I'm ashamed to admit that I gasped into her shoulder at the sudden pressure, and judging from the quiet laugh she let out, she was very much aware of the effect she had on me.

"I told you you couldn't resist," she said knowingly, raising her head from my neck so she could meet my eyes.

Hers were darkened with pleasure and mischievousness, darting to my lips. I glared at her.

"I really hate you."

She shook her head, tongue wetting her lips, as a playful smirk stared down at me. "No you don't. Now lose the nightdress, moya lyubov' (my love)."

I tried to retort, but she closed the gap between us, lips capturing mine in a heated kiss. I definitely didn't mind being woken up like this...

—

After actually getting out of bed, I reluctantly agreed to go on a walk with Wanda, strolling around our premises and making the most of the countryside we lived in. As much as I didn't want to admit, I was glad she'd dragged me outside, since the morning stroll only made me appreciate our home more.

When we returned, Wanda went to her studio whilst I made us some tea in the kitchen, hoping to warm us up after the slight chill in the Autumn air. I joined her soon enough, smiling when I saw how involved she was with her work in no time. The studio was big enough for her to make a mess and it not seem so messy since it was spacious enough. I shouldn't have expected any different – Wanda couldn't tidy up to save her life.

"One day I'm going trip over your things," I announced as I stepped over some loose materials by the door, teacup and saucer in hand.

She chuckled, though her attention was still on her painting. "When that day finally comes, I'll clean up. Promise."

"Of course," I muttered sarcastically.

I stopped behind her and studied the painting she was working on. It was a close-up of a flower bed, with intricate details being put in the flowers themselves and ladybirds flying around. Wanda sensed my presence and accepted the tea from my hand, smiling at me gratefully before blowing on it to cool it down.

"Is this that commission you got last week?" I asked curiously.

She nodded, unaware of the paint streaks on her face. I rested a hand on her shoulder and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, smiling at how adorable she was.

"The guy is paying double for me to put twelve ladybirds in the painting," she explained with amusement. "He wants to be able to count every single one."

I snorted with laughter. "Wow. That's very strange."

She shrugged, though I knew she was thinking the same. "A commission's a commission... is it evil if I only put eleven in?"

I laughed, nodding. She glanced up at me with a bright smile on her lips.

"It's very evil," I told her, before squeezing her shoulder.

She grabbed my hand on her shoulder, holding it comfortingly. "D'you want to do some gardening later?"

"Sure. I've just gotta do some work on my manuscript first. The writer's block is real."

"Of course," she said, giving me a knowing look. "Best-selling authors don't just become best-selling authors without putting in the work."

I rolled my eyes at her comment, but a smile played on my lips. "I'm leaving now."

She chuckled and I pressed a kiss to her cheek, trying not to get paint on my lips.

"Good luck with the writing," she said as I began to leave.

"And you with the painting," I called back.

Today was nothing special – probably a regular day when it came to Wanda and I's lives – but it made me smile. If the past three years had taught me anything, it was to be grateful for the mundane.

After Wanda broke things off with Y/B/N, it took a while for both of our families to recuperate. In their eyes, Y/B/N had broken things off because he wasn't interested in Wanda anymore, hence our parents' reaction. And Wanda's parents were upset because they believed it was her fault that Y/B/N wasn't interested, hence their reaction.

Our relationship with the Maximoffs was inescapable though, since Y/B/N and I were authors of theirs, so we had to mend what was broken. The only person who knew the truth about Wanda breaking it off with Y/B/N, apart from me and him, was Pietro. He didn't know why, but he knew that it was Wanda's choice.

After things calmed down between our families and everybody's anger had faded, around about the time that my second book was released, I'd saved enough money from the sales to buy a place of my own. With my father's help, I was able to buy a cottage in the countryside – the perfect place for privacy and to do my writing.

It was surprising that I got help from my dad, since I half expected him to be against the idea. But he was so proud of me for achieving all I had that he was happy to help. So, I got my own place and the first thing I did was invite Wanda to live with me. Nobody really saw it as more than two friends living together, especially since Wanda had started selling her paintings under a male pseudonym. Her parents were only reluctant because they wanted her to get married, but after she told them that she didn't want to and stood her ground, they left her alone.

I think they realised that they couldn't exactly stop her, and if they tried to, they'd lose their daughter in the process. So, to Wanda and I's excitement, we were moving in together...

"Are we there yet?" Wanda asked for the millionth time.

"Terpeniye (patience)," I told her, and felt her smile beneath my hands that were covering her eyes.

"Nice pronunciation," she commented, and I couldn't tell if she was teasing or not.

We finally stopped before the cottage and I was buzzing with excitement. I'd chosen it with Wanda in mind, a surprise for her, since I knew she'd only ever wanted to live in a place like this. What better way to give her that then now with me?

"Okay, this is it," I announced, removing my hands from her face.

I stepped beside her, leaning forward to see her reaction. She was raising her eyebrows with surprise, taking in the appearance of the front of the cottage. It was in a lovely field with tall trees and colourful flowers surrounding it. Vines had overgrown the bricks, but it looked stunning and I hoped Wanda would think the same.

Her lips curved upwards into a grin of disbelief. "This is it? This is ours?"

I pulled the key from my pocket and held it out towards her. "It is. All ours."

She laughed wholeheartedly, jumping up with excitement before grabbing the key and pulling me into a hug. I laughed alongside her, returning the hug, before pressing a kiss to her cheek and motioning to the door.

"Do the honours and I'll show you around," I told her with a smile.

She was practically beaming as she moved to the door, opening it. Her excitement only intensified when she saw the living-room it extended into, a large fireplace in the centre of the back wall and the furniture already in place.

"We can change the décor," I told her as I showed her around. "This came with the place, but we can change it up to however we want."

"I love it."

I intertwined our fingers, admiring the sparkle of delight in her blue eyes as she looked around the place eagerly. That was the look that made this whole thing worth it.

"You've not even see the best bit," I said, before tugging her into the hallway. "There's a kitchen and our bedroom and of course, a study for me, but this is the bit I know you'll love."

She watched with curiosity but allowed me to skip the other rooms and show her the room that I envisioned as her art studio. It was a spacious room, filled with random, old furniture from the previous owners, but I ignored it and stepped further inside, facing Wanda.

"This can be your studio!" I exclaimed, motioning around me. "Look, here can be where your desk can be." I pointed to the left wall, the space in front of it. "You can get some shelves put here for your supplies. And here–" I pointed to the space before the window at the back, "–is where you can paint on your easels. The natural light will be perfect!"

She followed my every move, hanging onto my every word, and nodded along with a joyful expression.

"I can't believe you've already thought about it," she admitted.

"Come here," I said, waving my hand for her to join me. She did and I wrapped an arm around her waist, stopping before the window. "You see that?"

"The perfect view," she realised, eyes wide as they took in the view of the garden, which I planned to show her next. "It's beautiful."

"You can paint everything there," I said with a nod. "The trees. The flowers. And this place isn't far from the train station, so we can take some day trips, too."

She leaned into my side gratefully. "Y/N, I love it. All of it."

My heart fluttered as she said that, it being all I wanted to hear.

"We can also get the coop for the chickens you wanted," I reminded her, before pointing out the window. "Right there. We'll get fresh eggs and they're cute – what's not to love?"

She pulled apart, arms still laced around me, and I waited to see what she thought. Her eyes twinkled in the sunlight coming from the window, matching the smile on her lips. Then she moved forward quickly, kissing me hard and leaving me no chance to react before she pulled away.

"I have no words," she said softly, caressing my cheek. "I'm so grateful."

My face was warm as I smiled shyly. "I'm glad. You know I'd do anything for you."

Her smile widened as she leaned in again. "Thank you."

Moving in with her was the best thing to happen to me, and my dream of being published had come true, so that was saying a lot. We both knew we could never get married and be together in public, but this was the next best thing. We had our own little slice of heaven to merely be, and it was perfect. She could paint as much as she liked and I could write as much as I liked, the two of us making a living and not having to rely on husbands we didn't love.

The only people who knew about the truth of our relationship was Steve. I knew I could never trust my family with the truth, knowing liking women was very different to becoming a writer. So, I was content with them living in denial about why Wanda and I lived together. Wanda was the same with her parents, but it was a few months into moving in when she decided she wanted to tell Pietro.

I was obviously hesitant, since Pietro was a standup guy, the reason I was even as successful as I was, but I wasn't sure if he'd be okay with discovering his sister liked women and I was the one she was with. Wanda was certain he'd understand though, since he was her twin and would only want the best for her. Plus, according to her, he loved me, so he wouldn't have a problem with it.

He was her twin at the end of the day, and nobody knew him better than her, so I trusted her to tell him and decided we could do it at dinner, inviting both him, Steve and Peggy over. Peggy didn't know about Wanda and I either, but I wanted to tell her, so we decided to do it together...

"We've been here three times and it still makes me jealous how peaceful it is," Peggy complimented as the five of us sat around the kitchen table. "No annoying neighbours. No nosy townspeople. It's perfect."

"Thank you," Wanda said with a friendly smile. "That's why we love it, too."

"Are you all finished?" I asked, standing up to grab mine and Wanda's plates.

"Oh, please, let me help," Pietro offered, about to stand up, but I shook my head.

"It's okay, I've got it," I politely declined, before stacking the plates together to take to the sink.

I glanced at Wanda and she gave me a knowing look before clearing her throat and looking to her brother.

"Piet, can you help me with something in my studio?" she asked him casually. "There's a lightbulb I can't quite reach."

He nodded and wiped his face with his napkin. "Er, sure." He looked to everyone else. "If you'll excuse me."

The two of them left the kitchen, leaving me with Steve and Peggy. I distracted myself with putting the plates in the sink before popping the kettle on, knowing they'd want tea.

"Dinner was lovely, Y/N, thank you for tonight," Steve started, easing the tension he knew I was feeling. I'd told him my intentions before inviting them and he was completely okay with the idea. "You and Wanda seem to be more and more comfortable every time we come here."

I leaned against the counter as I smiled gratefully at him, knowing he was giving me an opening to tell Peggy the truth.

"Yeah, we are," I said, eyes flickering to Peggy's as she watched on with interest. "We, er..."

My mouth went dry as the words I'd practiced in the mirror this morning escaped me. I'd only ever told Steve about Wanda and I, and that was by accident. I knew Peggy wouldn't judge me, but it was still terrifying to admit.

"Y/N, sweetie, are you okay?" Peggy asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

I nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes, sorry..." I just had to say it. No more overthinking. "Wanda and I are together. As more than more friends. I'm in love with her."

Peggy raised her brows with surprise, barely believing it, but then she glanced at Steve and knew I was being serious. I let out a breath of relief, glad that I'd finally said it.

She stood up from her seat and I was half-afraid she'd leave altogether, but she didn't. She walked to me and pulled me in for a hug, squeezing me gently.

"Thank you for trusting me with such an important thing," she said, pulling away and smiling at me gently. "I guess it makes sense. You both compliment each other well and make each other happy. It's beautiful to see."

"Thank you," I said, returning her smile. "That means a lot coming from you."

She nodded and glanced at her husband. "I take it Steve already knew."

He raised his hands in defence. "Hey, I basically figured it out myself!"

She rolled her eyes playfully and I couldn't help but laugh.

"He did," I backed him up. "And he was the only person to know, so I owe him a lot. He gave me the support I wanted when I had nobody else."

Peggy smiled endearingly at Steve before looking to me with kind eyes. "Well, now you're not alone. You have me, too."

"I know. I'm glad."

"Does anybody else know? Or is it just Steve and I?" she asked hesitantly.

"Just you two," I explained. "My family would never understand. Especially with Wanda and her history with my brother. Same with her family. But she's actually telling Pietro about us now. I can only hope he'll take it well."

Peggy was certain as she said, "I'm sure he will."

I made tea for all of us and joined Peggy and Steve at the table as we waited for the Maximoff twins' return. Eventually, Wanda returned with her brother in tow and judging by the smile on her face, I could only hope it went well. Though I noticed the tear streaks on her cheeks and joined her side with mild concern.

"Are you okay?" I asked, grabbing her hand, but I didn't get chance to hear a response as I felt myself being lifted off the ground.

"Y/N!" Pietro exclaimed in my ear, hugging me from behind. "Welcome to the family, sestra (sister)!"

He set me down and stepped beside his sister, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and tugging her close. A grin was directed my way as Wanda's cheeks dusted pink. She was glowing with happiness, her brother's opinion mattering the most, and it warmed my heart to witness.

"I see things went well," I noticed, before smiling at Pietro. "Thank you, Pietro. It means a lot to have your support. Though you know this doesn't make me your sister, right?"

"Yet," he pointed out, making me sigh. "You know, I always suspected you had the hots for my sister, but I could never be sure."

Now it was my turn to flush with embarrassment, especially when Steve and Peggy laughed from the sidelines.

"Wanda's happiness is all that matters to me," he continued, looking to his sister with a genuine smile. "I'm glad she picked the right Y/L/N."

I chuckled awkwardly, eyes falling to a nervous Wanda. "Me and you both, mate." He laughed, patting me on the back, and I gave him an appreciative nod. "Seriously, though, thank you, Pietro. Your approval means a lot."

"No problem," he said with a shrug. "I'm always here if you need me."

"As are we," Peggy added, before looking to Wanda. "Both of you. Anything you need, ever, just let us know. It's what we're here for."

"Thank you," Wanda said for both of us, and when she looked my way, I knew she was thinking the same thing I was.

We were lucky that the most important people in our lives knew the truth about us and were supportive. We couldn't have asked for anything more.

—

As promised, after spending the morning on my manuscript and Wanda with her commission, we went into the garden to do some gardening. And by we, I meant I was doing it as she attempted to help out beside me.

"Hey, I think there's something stuck here," Wanda said, fingers stuck in a pot of soil.

"Then pull it out," I said like it was obvious, trying not to laugh.

I continued to rake the plant beds before me so I could eventually plant some vegetable seeds when Wanda's adamant voice spoke up again.

"I think you should check it out, Y/N, I can't seem to get it."

"Wanda..."

"Come on!" she insisted, and I sighed dramatically before dropping my rake and heading towards her.

Kneeling down beside her, I took a peek in the plant pot and put my hand in, rooting around until my fingers found something metal.

"It seems to be a ring," I realised, pulling it out and dusting the soil off it. "Maybe the suppliers of the soil dropped it in accidentally. Or maybe a bird dropped it in the pot without you realising..." I chewed on my lip with thought. "Huh. Well, here you go."

I gave it back to Wanda and prepared myself to stand back up, but Wanda groaned and facepalmed.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" I asked with an amused smile.

She looked up at me through parted fingers. "It's my ring."

"How many times have I told you to stop wearing rings when we're gardening?!" I said questioningly, shaking my head. "Stuff like this always happens!"

She rolled her eyes and looked up to the sky. "Why am I in love with an idiot?"

"Wanda–"

"It's for you," she said, holding out the ring.

I furrowed my brows. "Well, why didn't you just– wait." My eyes widened as I realised what she was implying, feeling stupid for not realising sooner. "Is this– are you– huh?"

Wanda swallowed nervously before clutching the ring tightly and meeting my gaze. "I've been in love with you for a long time, you know that," she said softly, her accent thick with emotion. "The time we've spent here in our little safe haven has been the best of my life. And I... I know we live in a world that won't let us be together. But that hasn't stopped us."

My heart was hammering in my chest as Wanda offered me a small, nervous smile. We'd never talked about marriage since we were so content in our little bubble, but clearly she'd thought about it without me knowing. I guess I had, too. But I never expected either of us to do anything about it.

"I know we can never really be married, but what is marriage if not a union between two people who are in love anyway? I mean, we basically already have that." She snickered to ease her nerves, then licked her lips shakily, eyes tearing up. "I'm asking you to marry me and if you say yes, I'll know you're my wife and that's all that'll matter... so Y/N Y/L/N. Will you marry me?"

I didn't even need to think about it. Wanda was the love of my life and just like she'd said, the past three years had been the best. We could never truly be married in the eyes of the world, but she'd be my wife and that would be enough. She'd always be enough.

"Of course I will, Wanda," I answered, tears of happiness slipping from my eyes.

She raised her eyebrows. "Yes? You said yes?"

I laughed, nodding, and leaned forward to kiss her. She returned the favour, salty tears mingling between our lips, but it didn't matter because she was going to be my wife and that's all I could think about.

Our smiles broke the kiss and I wiped her tears away with my thumb before pressing another kiss to her lips.

"Here, let me put this on you," she said between laughter, hands fumbling as she tried to find mine.

I put out my hand and let her slide the ring on my finger. It was a simple silver band with a small, elegant gemstone sat on top, perfect for someone like me who didn't like anything too flashy.

"It's beautiful, Wanda, thank you," I said, smiling through my tears.

"I've been wanting to ask you for a while, but I wasn't sure you'd say yes," she admitted.

"Are you joking? Why wouldn't I?" I asked with an exploding happiness in my chest. "I'm so bloody in love with you, Wanda Maximoff."

She laced our fingers together as she nodded in agreement. "That's good. Because I'm in love with you, too."

And when she said that, it wasn't unlike anything she'd told me before. If she wasn't telling me she loved me, she was showing me in all sorts of ways. But this was different... this was the first time she'd told me as my fiancé. And then she'd soon be my wife. And it made me realise.

I'd spent so long thinking that if we were in a different life, we could have had it all. But we were getting it all now, so maybe, just maybe, this wasn't the wrong lifetime after all.

FIN.

[hiraethenthusiast]

The Hollandairé | t.h.

pairing: ceo!tom x ceo! reader

word count: 16k+

synopsis: exes cross paths on a big event. will they be able to forget each other's mistakes?

warnings: language, sexual innuendos, mentions of an anxiety attack (if you squint), talks about miscarriage, my favourite angst.

a/n: well, well, well im back from a very shitty writers block! look at me, writing angst with exes? oof. can you tell that i absolutely love angst and makeouts in the end? i was somehow inspired by 'idfc' by blackbear to write this fic lol. it took some time and ofcourse i went overboard with it, so hope you enjoy! don't forget to like and reblog! (i even made a moodboard kinda thing uwuwu)

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

"Conan I won't hesitate to knee you in the crotch if you don't stop pulling me off this sofa right this second" You tell your roommate, who is desperately trying to get you to go to a gala with him. Being a CEO brings its pros and cons. Pros being, you have a private jet, you're your own boss and you can shout at people with a reason. Cons being, annoyingly nice roommates. You had just shifted to a penthouse in downtown London with your friend Conan, because you refused to stay alone in this bigass house. (You tried living alone once, you were bored to death)

"Conan leave me alone yoo!" You said whining and hunching back into the sofa.

"Get the fuck up and get ready for the launch dude you promised me you wouldn't leave me hanging" Conan shouts over the voice of the t.v. blaring in the background. You pull you hand away from his grip and reach for the remote to shut off the t.v., focusing back on this tall red-headed figure in front of you.

"You know I don't like fancy shit." You grumble.

"It's YOUR fancy shit, get up Y/N." He says and reaches for your arms now, finally making you stand.

"Call Laura, I really don't want to go." You say pulling your phone out from your back pocket and handing it to him.

"If you haven't realised, your manager is the one who forced me to force you to attend the introduction of your fashion line" He fights back.

"- and Y/N. Hey, look at me. You've dreamt of this for how long? Almost all your life. And if you miss the chance to see your empire expand, it's gonna be devastating. You'll obviously miss the fashion show who's got the actual Rudy Pankow walking on a ramp, you'll also miss the opportunity to see people happy with YOUR work. Now get your ass up and get ready." He says and leaves the room, to get ready himself.

It's not that you don't want to go, you really do. Afterall, all of it is your hardwork. But the reason you're not going is because of that asshole. That asshole with whom you used to go out with once, the one who's current goal is to bring you down. The one and only, Tom Holland. You two used to date at some point, the ones who were in love actually, but the rivalry you two have got going on now has lead to you two knowing too much about each other. More than you know about yourself, the other knows it all. Small arguments turned into big ones, that eventually lead to the two of you leaving each other alone. You don't want to go because whenever you meet him, it all turns up into a big mess and your night is typically ruined, and you weren't in the mood for that, atleast not today. He's just a narcissistic bitch who thinks of nothing but degrading you. And that's the reason you don't want to go. Because you know if you talk to him one more time, these banters will persuade you.

But you do realise that you have to go. You have to go because you haven't gone to the last two launches for your perfume and swim line as well, and if you don't go today, Laura will actually end you.

So you just chug all your tea, leaving the kitchen with a grunt to go get ready.

"Hey Marco, can you send in that pantsuit I got done the other day? Look over for modifications if possible, although it looks great in just the solid colour, and please get it drycleaned." You tell your designer over the phone, to which he agreed and you go into your room to get your hair and makeup done.

"Wear a dress to the launch of your fashion line when it gets famous, yeah?"

"Pantsuits all the way Holland, you know I hate dresses."

"I know you do."

You remember the faint memory from over two years ago, that dream actually coming true, just without the person you dreamt it with.

You put your hair in a low bun with a middle part, giving you a classy formal look, and you do a almost non existent makeup look, only your eyes bold to accent with your outfit. Marco drops off the forest green pantsuit at your house, you giving it a twist with wearing a lace corset beneath the blazer.

"I look hot." You told yourself.

You and Conan leave for the event, you fidgeting in between 15 minute durations, Conan reassuring you that he'll be with you until the night ends.

That didn't last long. You lost Conan as soon as you entered the venue, so you occupied yourself with having conversations with other company owners, hearing how they're doing in the industry, blah blah blah.

"Do I look like I care?" You say to yourself.

You move ahead, only to cross paths with the one and only. He was wearing a cherry coloured perfectly tailored suit, adding a hint of Tom with the glasses. He looked good.

"And what do I owe this pleasure, Ms. Y/N?" He says, twirling his champagne glass in his hands.

"Look Holland I really don't have time for this shit, please take a goodie bag on your way home" You say with a bit of sass and start to move away, only to get your arm held back, making you bump in his chest.

"I see you wore the pantsuit you always wanted to wear at your event, angel " He says, making you pull away from him.

"Don't ever call me that again, and this is a warning." You were about to continue further with your answer, but you were utterly shocked to see the person in front of you.

"Is that the Y/N Y/L/N, in person, the one who's way too busy to answer my phone calls?" He says, making you laugh a bit.

"Jaeden?" You say, laughing heartily.

"In the flesh, tigeress." He says, doing grabby hands at you as an indication to pull you in a hug. You oblige and walk towards him and give him the biggest bear hug you've given anyone in two years. You pull back just to hit him on the chest once, playfully ofcourse.

"Tigeress. Oof haven't heard that in a while" You keep your conversation going on with Jaeden, while Tom is absolutely dumbfounded about whatever just happened in these past few seconds.

There's this hot guy named Jason or whatever, who calls you 'tigeress' and you aren't pestering him for calling you with a nickname but you definitely were ready to give Tom a piece of your mind when he called you 'angel'? Who is this guy?

Tom goes off to find Conan, who was situated at the bar downing a shot of tequila.

"Hey who's that guy Jason?" He asks him, pointing towards you and Jaeden in the middle of the hall.

"You mean Jaeden?" He says, biting onto a slice of lemon.

"Yeah whatever who is he?" Tom asks again, turning towards to bartender asking for a glass of whiskey.

"Why do you want to know?" Conan shoots back.

"Just curious. Can you just fucking tell me now?" Tom tries again, getting frustrated now.

"Chill dude. Jaeden used to work with Y/N a long time ago. He had this crush on her for like forever, but then Y/N went in for entrepreneurship and they were just not in contact with each other." He says.

"Crush huh?" Tom says, gripping onto his glass so tight that his knuckles almost turned white.

"Why do you look like you're about to murder someone?" Conan asks, getting concerned.

"Because I might." Tom says, grinding his teeth while forcing a smile.

The night goes by pretty smoothly, for you. You and Jaeden were clinged to each other almost the whole night, and then Tom watching you both from a distance, trying not to snap hard at people. He just took enough of it, he had to do something. He wasn't really sure why was he jealous, 'maybe because you love her' his heart said, but his mind crossing paths with a 'no you don't' in the middle. He was in a dilemma, but was mostly leaning towards his heart's side. He finally got up from his seat and walked towards you.

"Y/L/N." He says, keeping his composure.

"Yes?" You turn around to come face to face with him, laughing on something Jaeden had said.

"Board of Directors want to meet you on third floor. I was going that way only, wanted to inform you." He says.

"Oh okay. Jaeden I'll be back in a few. And tell me about that Mario Kart incident." You say, your laughter dying as you walk towards the elevator, motioning Tom to move as well. You both enter the elevator and you click the button for third floor.

"So Jaeden's a long lost friend, I assume?" He tries to small talk, failing miserably.

"Yeah, I used to work with him a long time back. Why do you ask?" You say, being the nicest you've been to Tom in two years.

"Just making small talk. So, exactly how long ago, you used to work with him?" He tries again.

"A really long time ago." You tell him.

"When we were dating?" He says, hesitating.

The elevator dings and you reach third floor, both of you moving into a very empty hallway.

"Why do you care Tom?" You say, making him frustrated even more.

"Because you're my fucking ex-girlfriend whom I'm worried about because that asshole has a mega crush on you" He says, making you jerk your head towards him.

"How many whiskeys have you had?" You ask him, because he was sounding oblivious that's for sure.

You turn around to open the meeting room to find it empty, making you glare at Tom once again.

"Why the fuck did you bring me up here Holland, where's the meeting?" You say, narrowing your eyes towards him.

"There is no meeting Y/N, the Board didn't show up this year, remember?" He says moving and fidgeting around the room.

"Then why did you bring me up here, dumbass?" That put him over the edge. He starts walking towards you making you take a few steps back, finally cornering you in the room.

"Because that guy is fucking flirting with you Y/N. That guy has been roaming around the whole night with my girl, touching and hugging my girl in front of me and you expect me to keep my calm? Huh? I don't fucking care okay? You're supposed to be mine and I was a jerk who let you go. I can't stand seeing you with other people. What the fuck is wrong with you Y/N, why did you leave me?!" He shouts at you, making your blood boil even more.

You push him back and stand in front of him, glaring as if you were going to rip his head off.

"No Tom, YOU left me, alright? I cried almost every night after that day when you left, and you didn't even have the empathy to give me a call. You, are too self-absorbed, and not me Tom. It was all you. I haven't been to even one of my launches just because I know you'll be there, you'll be there to put me down again. And why the fuck do you care about whom I talk to huh?" You shout at him.

"Why would I come to every single one of your launches Y/N?! To see you! To see the person who understood me more than I did, just to fucking see your face and calm my nerves!" He shouts back. He moves towards you and holds you chin to put your eyes at his eye level.

"Look at me Y/N. Look at me. Did we mean anything to you? Did I mean anything to you? Look at me in the eyes and tell me you never loved me. Tell me I meant nothing to you and I'll leave this second. Tell me that this was all a lie." He says, making your eyes water.

"You know I can't tell you that."

"Then why do you keep hurting me Y/N?! You hurt me so much! You left me when I needed you the most! I wanted you and you weren't there-" He shouts again.

"SHUT UP TOM, SHUT UP! Stop it! Stop! Please. Stop." You're crying hysterically now, hunching up in a corner trying to calm yourself down. Tom immediately sees it and runs towards you holding your hands and cradling them.

"Hey, hey Y/N. Look at me, look at me baby. It's Tom. Hey baby. I'm here, yeah? I'm here. Stop crying come on babe, please. Love, look at me. I'm here." He says, now running his hand over your cheeks wiping your tears.

"Go away. Go away from me." Is all you say, which makes his ears perk and brings water to his eyes.

He stands up and moves out of the room, closing the door just to hear you crying again. He sits down on the floor with his back on the door now, crying, waiting for you to say something.

"Please, open the door." He says, bursting into tears and hugging himself with his arms, wishing it was you.

Fifteen minutes pass by and you still haven't said anything. Tom misses you so much, and it was so fucked up of you to leave him like this. He was hurt, but he could never stop loving you. Ever.

"Losing you would be a nightmare that I'd beg to be awaken from everyday." You say opening the door, your eyes blood red, hair disheveled making Tom look at you, whose eyes were blood red too.

"What?"

"I was pregnant, Tom." You tell him, making his eyes widen and holding your hand for comfort.

"The day-" You clear your throat "The day we fought is when we lost the baby. I was going to tell you I was pregnant that day, but then that happened." You were crying a bit more now, but still held you composure so you can handle Tom from now.

"The argument gave me too much stress and, and it was affecting the baby so as soon as you left, um, my stomach started aching really badly and, and yeah we lost our baby then. That's why I left." You say, you were crying on his shoulder now, intentionally ignoring his reaction because you knew it would hurt him.

"We, we- lost our baby?" He says, a bit shocked but choking on his tears. You remain silent.

"Hey, hey. Listen. It's okay. It wasn't your fault. It was mine. I shouldn't have fought with you. You were already really worried and I just added onto your pressure. I'm so sorry baby I'm so so sorry." He was full-on crying now, he sniffled in your neck because he was too afraid to show his emotions.

"It wasn't your fault Tommy, it was ours." You say, running your hand in his curls. The way you missed his chestnut curls. It was all good again, well atleast you hoped.

Tommy. That always brought butterflies in his stomach.

You talked everything out in the bathroom, while washing your faces and cleaning up. You both understood that everything was going back to normal, just like the old times. One conversation lead to another, and you spent two hours on the bathroom floor just laughing and having gossip.

"It's been a while." You say laughing, looking at your watch.

"Yeah."

"Why did you say 'my girl' Tom?" You ask him directly.

"Hm?"

"You called me 'my girl' in the conference room. Why?" You tell him, and he instantly remembers that he did do that.

"You're in my head almost everyday Y/N. Even when you're not supposed to be. It shouldn't have been this hard letting go, but it was. I still love you, even if you don't." He says, taking some tissue paper off the counter.

"Who said I don't love you?" You say, making his eyes widen.

"Wha- wh- what are you implying here?" He stumbles upon his words, making you laugh.

"I still love you, you goof."

"Y/N you have to be serious you're making me want things I can't have." He says wholeheartedly.

You say nothing but grab him by his collar and kiss him with full force. After two years, you felt those soft lips on yours again, reminiscing every moment you had missed in these past years. They felt the same, soft and plump, just as if they were made for you. They fit in with yours like a puzzle, that was meant to be solved by these two hearts which were tangled, but now, in a right way. Tom kissed back almost immediately, feeling your lips was like a dream come true. A recurrent dream in his mind. You both pull back to see red and puffy lips and give out a light laugh. He doesn't stop, he keeps leaving peppery kisses all over your face mumbling sweet words again and again.

"I missed you so, so much angel." he says leaving a kiss on your nose.

"I missed you too bubba." you say leaving a small peck on his lips.

"Let's go now, we've been here for almost two hours." You start to move towards the door, but get pulled back by your waist.

"Tell Jaeden to maintain distance, yeah?" He says.

"Or what?" You say in a playful tone.

"Babygirl, I think you've forgotten what I'm capable of." He says, kissing your neck.

"I think I have. And stop kissing me I look shit." You say, laughing.

"I really don't care. You still look hot and I'm trying not to kiss you senseless right now." He says leaving another harsh suck on your skin, which can hopefully be covered by your blazer.

"Are you going to eyefuck me all night or are you going to do something about it?" You say, now kissing Tom's sweet spot.

"Finish this event in the next half an hour. I'll see you at my house babe." He says leaving one last peck on your lips.

You both reach downstairs after fixing your makeup and hair, you reach upto the stage and and hold onto the mic.

"Thankyou all for attending the event. We look forward to having more business with you! Don't forget to post something about our line 'The Hollandairé' on your social media platforms and don't forget to tag us! We are, The Y/L/N's thankyou have a good night!"

He listen to you and smirks to himself, because you do do what you say.

"I'm going to name my first fashion line 'The Hollandairé' " You say making a banner with your hands.

"And I'll be right with you then baby" He says, kissing your cheek.

Looks like he kept his promise too.

tagging some friends whom i think would like to read!:

@hollandslittlekoala @hollandsmushroom @leafy-holland @tomsoxytocin @scarletspideyy @t-lostinworlds

(pls do tell me if you don't want to be tagged further on!)

don't forget to reblog!

ilysmmmm. tpwk y'all!

[sweetestlamb]

Bring Me To Life

Summary: Kang Sujin has never had anyone to turn to, hiding behind a façade her entire life. Someone begins to peek behind the mask. 

Author’s note: My two favorite characters in TB are Seojun and Sujin, both characters who are honestly treated like trash by the writers. I cannot begin to tell how upsetting it was to see Sujin’s character assassination or how painful it is to watch her being physically abused knowing that the writers will not give her therapy or a true happy ending. She’s just here to be beaten and vilified. Seojun, I won’t even rant everyone knows what the problem is (idk who told them we wanted to see Start-Up the high school edition.) So I wrote this after watching the most recent episode and hating most of it for these reasons. I don’t know how far it’ll go or how often I can update, but I need my two babies to have a happy ending preferably together because the visuals are just a dreammmm. 

The rain crashes down loudly from aggrieved storm clouds bellowing above her in the sky, the chilled condensation plastering her thin satin pajamas to her trembling body. She had to get out, the pain in her cheek numbing and electrifying all at once.

How dare she tell him that she didn't want to get married, want to stand on her own two feet without a man giving her value?

His hand had flown across the room before she could sidestep the blow, the fragile glass filled with water in her hand- the very reason she'd left her room in the dead of night- shattering into jagged pieces as it collided with a greater force. Just like her.

She hadn't been trying to eavesdrop but it was hard not to hear him chuckling deeply on the phone, offering up his only child like she was an item on a menu.

"Yes we should set them up. It seems Suho isn't interested and she should marry young, that's when women are worth the most."

Nausea rolled like waves in the pits of her stomach and before she could think logically, her feet were sprinting into the living room, air barely filling her lungs as she stared at the man she'd never once thought of as a father. The last time she'd made the grave mistake of calling him daddy he'd smacked her so hard that was how she lost her first tooth. He'd been father ever since or Mr. Kang. She tried her best to avoid him at all cost, she would never be good enough and it was getting harder to hide the marks he left behind.

It was difficult to remember clearly what occurred seconds after her refusal to marry a man she didn't know left her lips, his fist connected and she was knocked back onto their coffee table the sharp edge cutting at her cheek. As she looked at him, anger painting his face a demonic red, fear crippled her and her hands twitched desperately wanting to wash them raw. Then he grabbed a thick marble ashtray from the table and her instincts took over and she was out the door, running as fast as she could, knowing her life was at stake and she couldn't afford to stop.

When the cloud in her head cleared that was when she found herself at the bus stop.

Judgmental whispers breeze by her ears as people passed by with umbrellas, shocked to see the young girl crying in her pajamas at the stop, but none stopped to offer her help or inquire about her situation, happy just to pass judgement. She ignores them all, panicking racing through her blood until she's unable to breathe, choking on nothing as she twitches in the harsh air. Her throat constricts as she screams at herself, breathe. 

Breathe.

BREATHE! 

But it's useless as her body shuts down, forgetting how to do the basic function, she sways as she starts to feel light headed from the lack of oxygen and with a final wheeze she collapses. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He signs as he weaves past cars moving far too slowly, adrenaline rushing through his veins as he marginally misses nipping a car to the left of him, easily dragging his motorcycle away with the fluid movements of his body. He glares up at the sky before cursing, "Fucking weather report didn't say anything about a sudden rainstorm." If he'd known he would have stayed home, always hating the rain. It brought back bad memories.

Halting at a red light, he puts his leg down for balance bouncing slightly in place. Pulling the shield up on his helmet he glances around, recognizing the area easily, before something in his peripheral catches his attention, a lump on the ground. Tilting his head he revs his trusty iron steed to live, riding over to the direction of the mysterious mass on the wet ground. As he gets closer his heart falters, it's too evident now. 

It's a person.

Jumping off his bike and pushing out the kickstand he flings his helmet off, his hair immediately drenched under the downpour as he races over to help. As he nears the figure, it becomes clearer it's a woman wearing what looks like sleep clothes. Momentarily he wonders if this is a crazy person and if he should just mind his business but a frightening image of his little sister unconscious on the ground and no one coming to her aid flashes in his mind.

"I'll just check if she's breathing and call an ambulance. That's all, if she tries to attack me I'll just ride away." He takes a deep breath, collecting his courage before closing the gap between him and the unconscious woman.

Crouching beside her, he reaches out a hand hesitating before sighing and shaking at her cold shoulder. No response. He shakes harder now, watching the motion quake through her entire body, but still she is unresponsive.

"Hey! Hey! Are you okay? Wake up, you're scaring me!" He starts to jiggle her with both hands, before he crawls into her space not caring about his safety any longer, the idea that this unknown woman might be dead is making him nauseous. People are always dying without his permission. It's so frustrating.

"Wake up! Come on!" He shouts at the figure now holding both her shoulders and turning the woman over, lifting her face from its place on the ground, cradling her limp body in his lap. After two more vicious shakes, she starts to cough and groan in his arms. Relief swims through his veins as he watches her come back to life, anxiously watching as her dewy long lashes flutter open and he's caught in a lifeless deep gaze.

"Han Seo-Jun?"

It takes a long pause for him to register that the woman has said his name and then a longer moment to recognize who she is.

"Kang Su-Jin?" He replies in genuine shock, taking in the wom--young girl in his arms. She's shivering so violently that it's becoming difficult to hold onto her, vibrating out of his hold before he grips her tighter, whipping off his jacket without second thought and wrapping it around her. Goosebumps raising on his skin as his body mentally berates his lack of survival skills.

"What are you doing here?" She looks at him bewildered as if the stranger occurrence is his presence and not her own.

He squints his eyes looking back at her, "I could ask you the same thing. I found you unconscious here. I thought you were...." He trails off unable to utter the rest of his sentence.

"You should have left me here. Maybe I would have. If I was that lucky."

"What? Are you crazy, you want to die? Did you do this to yourself, what are you on?!" He roars at her, rage flooding his system as he shouts at the stupid girl, how dare she try to kill herself and leave her body for him to find? He wishes he had taken a different route, that he'd never come across her. He was in no state to comfort someone who was suicidal, still too raw and hurt. What was so hard about living that made people want to do that? Hot tears gather in his eyes as he abruptly pulls away from Sujin, unapologetic as she tumbles to the ground without his support.

She starts at him, stunned before righteous fury twists her features and she roars back at him.

"Who are you to judge me! I didn't ask you to help me, leave me alone!"

He glares back at her ready to yank his jacket away and run away from her but a small movement stops him, as she's screaming at him a small muscle twitches in her cheek bringing his attention to said cheek. It's nearly purple, standing out obscenely on her pale skin and then he notices the split lip and the bruises on her neck and he's so ashamed of himself he could bawl.

He deflates before speaking to her, "What happened to your face? Who did this to you?"

He doesn't know what kind of look he has on his face but before his questions can even settle between them she's sneering and twisting away from him, throwing his jacket on the ground before making her escape. Unprepared for her sudden departure he reacts too late, before chasing after her. It's easy to close the distance separating them with his long legs and within seconds she's merely inches in front of him, he reaches out a large hand to grab her wrist but hesitates recalling the bruises littering her frame. Instead he races past her, blocking her with his body swerving to the left and then the right when she tries to dodge him. They play this cat and mouse game before she finally gives up, glaring up at him with moist enraged eyes.

"Why do you care? We aren't even friends!"

Her piercing shout rings in his ears as he looks down at her passively. He can't answer that question, doesn't know what brought him to this area so late and not understanding why he was the one to find her in this condition. He doesn't know why he cares. But maybe things could have been different if Se-Yeon had someone to chase him. Maybe he'd still be alive...

So he answers her honestly.

"I don't want anymore people to die."

To his complete shock she starts to cry, tears falling rapidly from her eyes before she crumples to the ground, the rain pounding on her head and he stands still unsure of what to do before he drapes the jacket he'd rescued from the ground over her head, shielding her from most of the thunderous downpour. When she looks up to see the jacket protecting her, he almost falls backwards as her head slams into his chest, her tears simmering hot on his chilled body. It's almost painfully uncomfortable but he doesn't move away. Letting her cry on his chest, his shirt is soaked anyway this makes no difference.

He doesn't know how long they are crouched there on the ground, so dark that the sidewalk is completely devoid of anyone else, it feels like they are the only two people left on Earth.

"If we stay here you're going to get a cold."

He voices his concern but the only reply he receives is a gross sounding sniffle and he grimaces, knowing that his poor shirt is probably damaged beyond repair covered in snot and tears.

Sighing he starts to repeat himself before she whispers, "I don't have anywhere to go."

"I can take you home." Her fists tighten in his drenched shirt, he can practically feel the fear wafting off her, he'd assumed the marks on her face were from a possessive unhinged boyfriend but her reaction makes him uneasy. He tries to push those unpleasant thoughts to the corner.

"What about your friends? Why don't you call Su-ah or Ju-Kyung, I’m sure they’ll help you.” 

She stiffens in his arms before shaking her head in decline.

"No. I can't let anyone else see me like this. I don't need them looking at me the way you did, like I'm a sad pitiful puppy. I never want anyone look at me like that again."

He can respect that, he never wants to appear weak in front of others. It was easier to become angry and lash out rather than showing your true heart, nobody could hurt you that way.

"Then what? Where do you want to go?"

"I have nowhere to go. I'll stay here until morning. I'll be fine, you can go."

He looks at her dumbfounded, what kind of man would leave a battered woman alone in the rain? He wasn't raised by animals, damn it.

"Let's go." He makes a point not to touch her, their only point of connection are her hands twisted in his shirt.

"What?"

He bulldozes past her confusion, looking at her with what he hopes are comforting eyes.

"I'm taking you to my house. I can't just leave you here."

"Are you crazy? Don't you live with your mother and sister, what will they say?"

He winces at the logical inquiry, he had already considered that himself, thinking of his mother's subsequent smacks and his sister's teasing once they learned what he'd done but still deciding that he has no other choice. He can't just leave her here.

He shrugs, "That's my problem to worry about. I'm not leaving you here, I'd really like to get out of his rain. Let's go." He repeats himself harder, pleading with her.

She looks away and he's prepared to throw her over his shoulders and face the consequences when he hears her response, "Okay. Let's go."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It's a quiet ride back, the engine rumbling through the aching bones of her frozen body. Han Seojun. The last person she ever expected to see after being roused from her panic induced collapse. Her arms tighten around his thin waist as he swerves around a car, adrenaline and fear battling for dominance in her body. When her fingers accidentally brush across wet bare skin she quickly moves her hands higher, fighting the embarrassment that washes over her.

If he notices she can't hear his reaction over the roar of the motorcycle.

When they finally pull up to a small apartment, she loosens her hold on him cracking her frozen digits.

"You didn't need to hold that tightly, I wasn't going to let anything happen to you. I ride this everyday you know."

She doesn't reply focusing on getting off the bike, swinging her leg over and hopping off not graceful but effective, a small proud smile spreads on her face before she gazes back at him.

He stares back before shaking his head, as if lost in a daze before he stomps off for her to follow.

Wordlessly she trails behind him, feeling foolish in her duck pajamas, a gift from Su-ah.

When he pushes his front door open, letting her in first she steps out of her sopping wet house slippers standing awkwardly looking around.

"Stay here. I'll get towels so we don't trail too much water."

She nods at his command, gazing at the floor and seeing how much water is already pooling around her feet.

"Here." He hands her a fluffy pink towel, she raises an eyebrow at the color.

"It's the guest towel. I wouldn't give you my towel."

That makes sense, sharing towels is far too intimate for the relationship they have. That being none. 

She rapidly towels at her hair, before running the towel down her body and wrapping it around her waist.

"You can use the bathroom. It's the second door on the right. I'll bring you dry clothes."

She steps cross the doorway, finally entering his home. Before she turns back to him staring directly into his eyes, "Than.... You didn't have to do this." She loses her confidence but his answering smirk lets her know he understood enough, with that she walks to the bathroom locking herself inside.

The sight of her bruised face in the mirror makes her pause, reaching up to finger at the stark purple mark on her cheek. She's crying before she can control her emotions, tears dripping into the sink as she remembers her night, how close she was to the end despite what she said to Seojun she wanted to live. As her father stood above her ready to snuff her out like a mere nuisance in his life, she realized with a burning passion how desperately she wanted to live.

A soft knock drags her back to reality as she rapidly wipes her tears away.

"I'm leaving clothes by the door. You can come out whenever you're ready. I'm making tea."

When she hears the light steps of his feet moving away from the door she opens the door a crack, picking up the neatly folded pile of clothes. Sending the boy a mental thank you before closing the door quietly.

It's clear that these clothes belong to Seojun, draping off her body, too large for her frame, a black T-shirt with a microphone on the center and sweatpants that cover her feet as well, he'd even remembered to bring her socks. Instantly she feels her body warming as her body temperature returns to normal. 

Folding her wet clothes and splashing water on her face then using the towel to rub it dry, she exits the bathroom walking towards the light she sees assuming that's the kitchen.

"The water's almost done boiling. Sit down."

His deep voice greets her as she follows his orders and takes a seat.

"Are these your clothes?"

"What? Oh yeah they're mine, sorry my sister locked her door. They're very old though, I haven't worn them in years I thought they would fit you better." He eyes her as he says the last sentence, "I guess it didn't make much of a difference I'm just too tall and manly for my own good."

She scoffs at his narcissistic comment rolling her eyes "Tall and manly my foot. You're so skinny I could probably pick you up with one arm."

He immediately turns at her comment, affronted look on his face, "Shut up! It's hard for me to put on weight, I'm not that skinny."

He places his hands on his hips, looking down at himself before puffing his chest out to make himself appear broader, it's so ridiculous that she can't control her reaction.

Sudden uncontrollable laughter.

She laughs breathlessly, folding onto her lap trying to contain her giggles but his scandalized look makes her laugh harder and she has to stuff her face in her elbow to prevent herself from waking his family.

After a few minutes of random spasms of laughter she finally peers back up at him.

He looks just like he did outside when she'd smiled after successively getting off his motorcycle.

"What? What are you looking at?"

"Nothing. I just never see you smile at school."

"Well you never do anything worth smiling about." She quips back, wondering if she'd gone too far but he doesn't reply beyond a slight smile that's gone too fast to even be titled that, he places her steaming cup of tea before her sipping at his own after blowing on it.

They drink in comfortable silence.

She's the first to rapture the silence, "I don't need pity."

"I don't pity yo--"

"But thank you. Thank you for stopping. Thank you for this, thank you."

He stares wordlessly before nodding, a slight blush on his cheeks before he hides his face in the cup of tea. She doesn't bring attention to it.

"You can sleep in my room. It's the door next to the bathroom."

Humming she looks up, fatigue hitting her like a brick at the mention of sleeping.

"Where will you sleep?"

"I have a perfectly good couch, don't argue you're sleeping in my room. That's final. It's better that my mother doesn't see a strange woman on the couch when she wakes up."

Well, she can't argue with that logic.

"Okay." Drinking the last of the soothing beverage, she stands up walking over to place the cup in the sink.

"Good night." She starts to walk back in the direction of the bathroom, seeing another door next to it. Seojun's room. Twisting the doorknob she pushes it open, before she hears his voice from behind her.

"If you need anything I'm right outside."

Blinking her tears away, she nods without looking back, too vulnerable with his palpable concern.

When she lays her head down on his pillow, his scent fills her senses and she falls into a deep restless slumber feeling safer than she has in long time.

Tomorrow will be horrible.

But tonight, she will allow herself to breath easy knowing that someone is on her side.

[apriorisea]

Angst with yoongi or jungkook. Their girlfriend having a hard time but they didn't think it was smt serious so they weren't there for her and just focusing on work. She didn't say anything to them, just trying to deal with it alone but it's just keep getting worse. She lose some weight, always tired and not so cheerful like before. Eventually they realize it when she faint in their arms (i am sorry it's really long i hope you write smt like that, you are one of my fave writers 👍💜)

--Hi! As usual 😅I apologize that this took so long! Thank you so much for the idea and for your sweet compliments---I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it! I hope you enjoy 💕💜

“The Problem”You x Yoongi

“You really didn’t have to do this,” you say, smiling as you lean across the center console to kiss Yoongi’s cheek. Your smile grows bigger as you see the pleased expression cross his face and add: “But I’m really glad you did.”    He turns his head and kisses you firmly. “I love you,” he says softly. “I’ll take any chance I can to be with you.” He rests his hand on the back of your neck, playfully holding you in place. “In fact, why don’t you just blow off work today, come with me instead?”    You groan, leaning into his arm and brushing your lips against the inside of his wrist. “Don’t tempt me.”    He smiles. “I’m sorry I can’t pick you up tonight. Do you want me to send someone?”    “No.” You lean forward to ask for another kiss, smiling when he gives you what you want. “I’ll just see you at home tonight. Try not to stay too late, okay?” When he smiles an agreement, you give him a wink and climb out of the car. “Love you!”    You’re still smiling when you enter the building, and just before you settle in at your desk, you pull out your phone: This was a terrible idea…you better just come back and get me ;)    His answer comes just as you are opening your email: Perfect. Let’s just drive and drive and drive, yeah?     Two seconds later, he adds: I LOVE YOU.    Grinning, you don’t even read the title of the email before you open it.    The happy mood evaporates immediately. It’s 8:32am on a Monday morning, and your boss is already fuming. The project you and your team had put together had apparently not met his expectations and the deadline to turn in a new, better proposal was by the end of the day. Feeling your stomach twist into knots, you turn to scan the office for your coworkers—meeting the eyes of one of them, you exchange nervous looks. It’s going to be a long day. 

    “He’s just not going to be happy with any of this,” Coworker #2 says, tipping back in his seat irritably. “None of it.”    Another team member, Coworker #3, pushes a strand of hair back behind her ear. “That’s a cheerful outlook, thank you.”    “You know the mood he’s been in lately,” he says darkly. “This feels like a head hunt.”     Glancing at your watch, you struggle to catch your breath. It was 1:36pm and the three of you had been working for hours on a new project proposal. 25 minutes ago the boss had sent a warning email, his tone none the happier. “What do you mean a head hunt?”     He throws his arms in the air exasperatedly. “You know, like, looking to fire someone to get over his bad mood.”     Your other coworker slaps his arm. “Stop it!” she says, genuinely angry. “You don’t know anything about anything. He’s not going to fire anyone over this stupid project!”     The door clicks shut as the fourth and final member of your team walks in, holding a coffee cup. “He knows enough,” he says, sipping his drink. “Word on the street is that we need to downsize and almost anyone could be the target.”    Your anxiety increases at his presence and arrogant words. “He’s not going to fire a whole team over a minor-level project,” you say coolly.    He fixes you with a look. “You’re right. All he needs is one scapegoat.”    Taking a deep breath to stay calm, you give him a look. “Well then, let’s spend more time working and less time talking, huh?”    He eyes you but doesn’t respond, slinking slowly into his seat. Your attention is soon turned to other matters, but you never really lose the pit of nerves that his words had opened. It sits there, festering like an open wound, demanding your attention even when you refuse. By the end of the work day, you are exhausted, mentally and physically, and by the time you reach your apartment, you are an anxious mess: the inside of your lower lip is raw from the constant worried chewing and your head is pounding from the stress.     As you climb the stairs to your apartment, you think about the day: your team had managed to complete a rough draft for the new project proposal just in time, and, though he wasn’t thrilled, your boss had agreed to give you the rest of the week to complete it. You bite down on your lower lip again. It’s not terrible, but it’s also not great.    Reaching your front door, you’re suddenly frozen by the sound of your coworker’s words echoing in your mind: “All he needs is one scapegoat.” Your stomach twists and you force another deep breath before you can open the door.    Stepping out of your shoes, you drop your bag to the ground and survey the apartment: there’s a basket of laundry sitting in the corner of the living room, waiting to be done, and a few dishes still in the sink. Releasing a slow, even breath, you try to let the familiarity of home calm you down.     The team had worked straight through lunch, and you vaguely realized that part of the reason your hands were shaking was because you hadn’t eaten since your piece of toast this morning for breakfast. You open a cupboard door, but as soon as your eyes land on the coffee mugs, your heart races as you hear it again: One scapegoat. You trusted that particular coworker about as far as you could throw him, and the two of you had been at odds constantly lately. I wouldn’t put anything past him, you think, and your stomach lurches. You shut the cupboard and head for the sink.    Sick of hearing your own thoughts, you turn on the TV after you’d finished the dishes and settle in to fold some laundry, trying not to think about the gaping hole of worry eating its way through your stomach. I just have to do the best, you think. I have to be the best member of the team. Then I’m untouchable.    Halfway through the basket of laundry, you hear the door unlock. Yoongi comes in, looking slightly disheveled though his frown fades at the sight of you. “Hi sweetheart,” he says quietly, lining his shoes up next to yours carefully. “Here, I’ll finish that. I meant to do it last night.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head and joins you on the floor, reaching for the shirt in your hands.    His presence washes over you and you take a truly deep breath. “It’s okay,” you say, tipping your head over to rest on his shoulder. “How was your day?”    He sighs, and there’s so much in that simple sound that you forget all about your terrible day and turn to look at him.    “What’s going on?” you ask softly, reaching up to smooth a strand of his hair back.    “Long day. Taehyungie’s having a hard time lately, Jimin’s back is giving him problems…Namjoon has a bad case of writer’s block and we still need 4 more songs to even make a mini-album.” He folds the shirt and stacks it carefully on top of the others, then reaches for another. “We’re not sure if we can make the Australian tour happen.”    “Oh no,” you sympathize. “How come?”    “Venue availability, travel….basically everything.” He pauses in between shirts to rub his forehead tiredly.     You kiss his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know how important that tour is to you guys. I’m sure something will work out!”    The laundry now finished, he sighs again and sits back against the couch. Reaching out to pull you into his arms, he kisses your temple. “We’re going to figure it out,” he agrees. “But I’m going to be working a lot these next few days. Probably into the weekend,” he adds, waiting for your reaction.    You cuddle against him. “It’s okay, baby. Do what you need to do.”    “I love you,” he says softly, tipping your chin up so he can kiss you. “How was your day? Have you eaten already?”    The question knocks the wind from you. “Oh. It was fine. I…I already ate, yeah. Sorry.” You push out of his arms so he can’t feel the way your heart races at the lie. “Do you want me to make something?”    “Nope.” He gets to his feet. “We still have leftovers from last night. I’ll just have those. What did you have?”    You stack the folded laundry back in the basket and ignore the question. “I forgot about the leftovers. Hope they still taste good.”    “There’s a lot left,” he calls from the kitchen. “I’ll pack some up and you can take it for lunch tomorrow.”    You feel your stomach squirm. “Thanks.” You push the laundry basket back into the corner and cross your arms over your stomach, watching him as he moved around the kitchen, reheating his leftovers and packing yours for lunch tomorrow. Tomorrow. You think of your boss’ anger, the work left to do, your coworker’s sinister intent……Your hands go cold.    Yoongi brings his food into the living room, sitting on the couch and gesturing to the spot next to him. Some of the feeling returns to your fingers as you climb up next to him, curling up close and resting your head on his shoulder.     “Next week,” he says in-between bites. “We’re going to have date night every night for the whole week.”    You smile, grateful for the way his presence and words melt your icy worry. “That sounds amazing.”    “I mean it,” he insists around a mouth full of food. “Every night. We’ll go to that movie, get dinner at all of our favorite places, stay home and finish our show, go for a drive…anything we want to do. Anything you want to do.”    Turning your head to kiss his shoulder again, you say quietly, “I love you, Yoongi.”    He finishes eating quickly, hopping up to rinse his dish off and returning to you quickly. Through a yawn, he asks, “Are you ready for bed?”    With your mind so full of worry, you hadn’t been looking forward to a whole night of tossing and turning, but when he extends his hand to you, you realize everything would be okay. Putting your hand in his, you nod. “Yes.”    When you’re both settled in bed, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you back against his chest. Leaning down to kiss your neck, he rests his head against yours gently. “So I’m thinking one night we get burgers,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear. “Pizza for our Netflix night…”    “Mmm.” You close your eyes, letting his soothing voice lull you into a calm. “We definitely need to do sushi one night.”    “Agreed. For our big fancy date night, let’s go to that nice restaurant with the giant steaks!”    You can’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. “Whatever you want to do. I just want to spend time with you.”    He hugs you close. “I love you, sweetheart. Sleep tight, okay?”    And with him there to keep you safe and push the worries away, you actually do.

The next morning, you hear him get up extra early, but you’re too exhausted to stir. Before he leaves, he kisses your forehead gently. “Have a good day, sweetheart,” he whispers, and then he’s gone.    Your alarm goes off at the usual time, but when you pull your phone to you, you see a screen full of texts. Feeling your stomach lurch, you scan through them: 11 of them are from your coworkers, already panicked about the project. 1 of them is from your bank, reminding you that your payment for student loans was due next week. You set your phone down, heart pounding, and try not to panic. You wish Yoongi were still home.    But he was already gone, so you roll out of bed, get ready as quickly as possible, and force yourself to answer a few texts as you head to the kitchen for breakfast. After a little bit of coordination, you and two of your coworkers have a plan for the day—the third one (the problematic one) hadn’t responded yet. Just as you open your fridge to hunt for some food, you get a private message from your closest coworker: Watch out for SJ, she wrote. I’ve heard he was talking about you the other day during lunch.    Your stomach flips. I knew it. You shut the fridge hard, ignoring the ache in your guts. Pulling on your coat, you grab your bag and take a small breath. You wouldn’t let him get you today.     As you leave the house, you pull out your phone and send Yoongi a text: Is it just me, or is this the most Monday-feeling Tuesday ever???    You’re about to tuck the phone back into your pocket when it buzzes. Eagerly awaiting your boyfriend’s message, you look at the screen expectantly—    And find another text from your coworkers. It brings you back to earth immediately. Your stomach is in knots all the way to the office.

    “Just as long as her name is on it,” your coworker says dramatically, his voice clearly too loud to be a whisper.     Steeling yourself, you look up from your computer. “My name is on what?”    “Section 5,” he says unabashedly.     “What’s wrong with section 5?”    He raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious?”    “Stop being such an ass,” Coworker #2 interrupts, rolling his eyes. “What’s the problem?”    The Problem sighs. “Section 5 is the epitome of what was wrong with the last proposal.”    “According to who?” Your hands are balled into fists in your lap, hidden away from sight.     “The boss, obviously.”    “Oh, he told you that? Personally?” You stand your ground. “Last I knew, he didn’t even remember your name.”    His cheeks flush. “It was obvious. So I just want to make sure that your name is on it, so he knows who to credit when this falls apart.”    “It’s not going to fall apart!” interjects Coworker #3, smoothing her frazzled hair back into a ponytail. “Don’t even put that into the universe!”    “You’re welcome to re-work it,” says Coworker #2.    “You clearly have the time,” you add coolly.     The Problem doesn’t answer, pretending to suddenly be preoccupied with something on his phone. The tenuous silence returns.    The four of you work until lunch time—until 5 minutes before official lunch time, actually, because if you had to spend even 5 more minutes in the same room as him, you were going to murder someone—and as you put your laptop to sleep, you realize how hungry you are.     “Here,” Coworker #2 drops a packet of pretzels on your desk. “You like these, right?”    You nod. “Thanks.”    He gives a faint smile, reaching his arms above his head in a huge stretch. “Don’t let him get to you,” he adds, jerking his head towards the door after The Problem. “He sees you as a threat because you are the most competent person in the whole department.”    You smile. “I’m trying. But this is just more motivation to get this project sorted—then I can go back to ignoring his existence.”    Coworker #2 laughs and reaches out to fist-bump you. “Amen,” he agrees, then grabs his empty-coffee mug off the table and leaves.     Feeling a little lighter now that the you have the room to yourself, you open the packet of pretzels as your stomach growls. You manage to eat 7 before your phone goes off.    Coworker #3: SJ’s going to eat lunch with the Exec Crew today. Such a suck-up.    You set the packet of pretzels down and reply: Is the boss going?     Coworker #3: Of course. He’s probably going to offer to pay and everything.     The weight settles over your shoulders again. You remember the disgust in his eyes, the thinly veiled threats about your job—”And now he has the perfect opportunity,” you whisper to yourself. “He really is going to do whatever he can to get me fired.”    As if the universe had heard you, your phone buzzes with another text: it’s an alert from your bank, reminding you about the bills coming up soon. I can’t lose my job, you think, feeling the panic rush through your entire body.     Ignoring the reminder, you open Yoongi’s text thread. Any chance you’ll be done with work early today?? It joins your last still-unopened message. You stare at your phone for a full minute, hoping to see his return text as it comes in. It doesn’t.    You think about the leftovers sitting in the fridge in the break room and your stomach flips. Pushing the half-empty packet of pretzels away from you, you reboot your laptop. “I have to work harder.”

    You sink into the last empty bus seat, closing your eyes against the pain thundering through your head. It’s 79 minutes past quitting time and you hadn’t even had a chance to look at your phone since lunchtime. You pry your eyes open and fish for your phone, taking a small breath before unlocking it.     Three messages from Coworker #3, four from Coworker #2, and one sarcastic one-liner from The Problem. The pounding in your head increases.     32. From the time your team resumed its work after lunch until you had all finally left the building, The Problem had made 32 pointed comments towards you.     “You don’t even have seniority, you know that, right?”    “We talked about the project at lunch. What a shame you weren’t there.”    “Last quarter’s numbers weren’t ideal, that’s what he told me. There’s a lot of dead weight in the company, especially in our department. Especially on our team.”    Rubbing the back of your neck tiredly, you leave the text thread without replying and open the next new message. It’s another bank reminder: the deadline on your payment was coming a lot sooner than you remembered.      How did it get to this point? You stare out the window blankly. I used to love my job. What did I ever do to get this target on my back?     You open your phone again, navigating to your text-thread with your boyfriend. He still hasn’t read either of your earlier messages. You must be busy today. <3     Still no answer. You turn back to look out the window, ignoring the pain in your head and stomach. After almost missing your stop, you trudge towards your apartment, your mind too full to pay attention to anything else.     They talked about things at lunch. They must have talked about ME at lunch. He’s going to get me fired. You bump into someone and don’t bother apologizing. He is actually actively working to get rid of me. Why?     Fumbling for your phone again, you send a private message to Coworker #3: What does SJ gain by getting me fired??    Her return message comes as you are unlocking your door. You force yourself to get inside and out of your shoes and coat before looking at it.     Coworker #3: You’re obviously the biggest threat in the department. You know he’s looking for a fast-track promotion. If he can get rid of you, that’s one less hurdle he’ll have to jump. You okay? He was such an asshole today.     Dropping your bag on the floor angrily, you move to the kitchen, hunting for the bottle of aspirin. Everyday* you correct. But he’s crazy.  If our project tanks, he’ll go down with it. You down three tablets without water.     Coworker #3: He thinks he can weasel his way out of it, obviously.    Coworker #3: But anyway, don’t worry about it. We’re going to be fine. You doing okay? Did you even get a chance to eat lunch today???    You pause at this, setting your phone on the counter to pull open the fridge. Leftovers, milk, fruit, vegetables, eggs, kimchi, yogurt…You feel a pain in your stomach and can’t decide if it’s hunger or something else. Your gaze un-focuses as you stare, and suddenly all you can see are bills and numbers. The pain in your stomach grows and you slam the fridge shut.     I can’t lose this job. I have too many bills to pay. If I get fired, I’m going to be so far behind on every single payment. I CAN’T lose this job.     The buzz from your phone causes an immediate anxious reaction to jolt through your whole body: your chest feels tight, your heart starts pounding, the pain in your head feels blinding, your stomach flips. Forcing a deep breath, you slowly reach for the device again.     The knot in your stomach immediately untangles as soon as you see the name on the message. Exhaling roughly, you open Yoongi’s message eagerly.    Yoongi<3 : Hi sweetheart. I’m sorry ~ so busy today. And I’m going to be home late tonight. :(     Your relief fades quickly.    Yoongi<3:  Are you okay? How was your day?     Glancing at the time, you feel the knot retie with a vengeance. When your boyfriend said “late,” he meant late. “He won’t be back before midnight,” you whisper to yourself. The apartment gets a little smaller around you. Trying to push the darkness away, you ignore his questions: I love you. Be safe!     Locking the screen, you turn back to the fridge. Holding the device close to your chest, you stare at the door. Replaying the images of what the fridge held, you tried to convince yourself to eat one of them—but with each mental picture, the knot grew tighter and you felt like you were going to throw up.     Turning away from the fridge explosively, you wandered into the living room. You realized suddenly how much you’d been relying on Yoongi’s presence to help ease the current of tension that was flowing nonstop through your entire body. Now, faced with the prospect of hours without him, you had nothing to distract you but the fear.     You watch Netflix (the volume up loud in an attempt to drown out your own thoughts) and play mindless phone games until 11:15pm. Your entire body aches with exhaustion and stress, but you still spend five more minutes staring at the front door in vain, waiting for him to come back. Eventually, you get slowly to your feet and trudge down the hall to the bedroom. You spend extra time washing your face, delaying the inevitable, but when you finally crawl into bed you’re exactly as distraught as you had expected.     Not even the white noise machine can help you tonight. You toss and turn for hours, watching the clock on your nightstand tick past midnight.     Every time you close your eyes, you’re bombarded with visions of bills and loans and banks and evil coworkers and your angry boss. You see papers stamped with bright red lettering: TERMINATED. The Problem’s words echo constantly. You manage to fall into a light, troubled sleep, and find yourself stuck in the dream-version of the day’s lunch. At the exact moment that your Dream-Boss and Dream-The-Problem turn to you in unison and say “YOU’RE FIRED” you startle awake. Glancing at the clock, you realize it’s 2am and you’re still alone. Squeezing your eyes shut tight, you feel the hot tears build underneath your eyelids and fight down the urge to call him. You struggle for another 20 minutes before sleep finally takes you.      Five minutes after you pass out, he comes home. 

The next morning, you startle awake at the sound of your alarm. Scrambling to turn it off, you realize that you can’t move easily. The panic eventually gives way to relief: you’re tangled in Yoongi’s arms, wrapped tight in his hug. Carefully, you manage to reach out an arm to shut off the alarm, then shift gingerly so you’re facing him. He stirs a little, his embrace tightening reflexively, and you give-in: burying your face in his chest, you give yourself the 10 snooze minutes.     Now that you’re wrapped in his arms, all the things that had kept you awake seemed distant and tiny. For the first time in the last 24 hours, you feel the pain in your stomach fade.     But too soon, your snooze alarm goes off. It’s time. Taking one last deep breath in his circle of safety, you gently untangle yourself from his grasp, unable to keep the faint smile off your face at his sleep-mumbled complaint. What I’d give to be able to stay right here, all day. But…    I need this job. I’ve got to fight.     So instead, you gently stroke his hair until he falls back into his deep-slumber. Realizing how late he must have gotten home, you fight down a pang of disappointment: he’d be asleep for a few hours more. Just what he needed, definitely, but you would be long gone by then. Pulling yourself together, you manage to get ready quietly and quickly, mentally preparing yourself for the day ahead.     You plant a soft kiss on Yoongi’s forehead before you go, drawing a last bit of strength before heading out to face your dragons.  

    10:00am. You feel your phone buzz in your pocket but ignore it. You’re sitting sandwiched between Coworkers #2 and #3, The Problem on the far end. The boss hasn’t spoken for the last 5 minutes.     Finally, he sighs. “I’ve come to expect much more from this department,” he says, meeting your eyes seriously. “This new proposal…it’s better. But is it really what it ought to be?”    The Problem jumps in before you can even blink. “No, sir, I completely agree. It’s not up to standards. It—”    “I think it can be fixed,” your boss continues, speaking over the other man easily. He meets your eyes again. “But it is going to take a lot of work. For example, the proposed direction in Section 4 seems a bit messy.”    The Problem is nodding. “Team Leader was in charge of that section.”   Coworker #2 stiffens next to you. “No, she wasn’t,” he snaps. “I-I mean,” the flush creeps up his neck. “Sir, our team worked together on each section and each proposal. Of course.”    You don’t look over at The Problem. This is exactly what you had been expecting.    “Of course, of course,” The Problem simpers. “But, obviously, we follow the direction of our project manager, don’t we, sir?”    Your boss raises one eyebrow at you. “Well?”    “We all worked together on this proposal, sir,” you say calmly, though your insides are twisting together again. “And, obviously, no part would have gone through without full consent from the entire team. Right?” you direct the question to The Problem, but don’t bother looking at him.    He clears his throat. “We follow your inspiration, team leader.”    You hear Coworker #3 hiss under her breath next to you.     Your boss is studying The Problem carefully. Finally, he looks back at his tablet screen. “Sections 4, 7, and 10 all need some re-working. Can you have it done by tomorrow?”    The tiny bit of satisfaction you felt at realizing none of those sections had been your assigned responsibility bleeds away at the deadline. Tomorrow??  Your head aches. After a moment, you realize he’s waiting for you to respond. “Absolutely, sir,” you agree steadily. “We will work hard.”    “I expect nothing less,” he agrees. “Make sure it is as streamlined as possible. We want no further problems going forward.”    “Yes, sir,” the three of you parrot together; The Problem’s answer is more drawn-out and sickeningly sweet. You don’t look at him as the four of you leave your boss’ office. 

    7pm. 2 hours past quitting time and the four of you were still holed-up in the conference room together.     The Problem gets to his feet loudly, heading for the door.   “Where are you going?” demands Coworker #2; his hair is messy and out of place, his glasses slightly askew.    “Smoke-break,” he answers. “Can’t be in this room for one second longer.” He lets the door slam shut behind him.    Coworker #3 rolls her shoulders out. “Funny,” she says darkly. “If he was in this room for one second longer, I think I’d rip his stupid little head off.”    Coworker #2 turns to you. “I don’t know how you managed to keep your cool all day today, honestly. I wanted to punch him in the mouth 3 times in that meeting alone.”    You sigh and sit back in your chair.  The atmosphere in the room had changed as soon as The Problem had left. “I just want to finish this project,” you say honestly. I have to be the best possible, so there’s no room for judgment or complaint. “The sooner it ends, the sooner we can get away from him.”    “I know where he parks his car,” Coworker #3 offers helpfully. “It would be such a shame if his tires got slashed somehow…”    You share a small grin with her; a grin that fades as you realize how long it’d been since you smiled. The muscles in your face ached from the simple gesture.    “Here,” Coworker #2 plops another bag of mini pretzels in front of you. “Snack break! Better eat now before he comes back and turns all our stomachs…”    You scoff humorlessly. Staring at the bag of snacks, you feel your stomach twist. The last thing you wanted to do was eat anything right now, but then you calculate how long it had been since you’d eaten anything. Oh. That’s probably not healthy. Opening the bag, you pretend not to notice how much your hands are shaking. I need to eat a little, you convince yourself. Every part of you is tired and aching. How much longer can I go on like this?    Until this is over, your stubborn side kicks in. Until the danger is passed. Until you know your job is safe. Suck it up.    You manage to eat ¾ of the bag before The Problem returns and, just as your coworkers predicted, as soon as he’s back in the room you’re no longer hungry. Pushing the pretzels away angrily, the four of you return to silent, tense work for another 2 hours. 

You climb into bed at 10pm that night, too exhausted to be kept up by worries. By tomorrow it’ll be all over. You vaguely wonder if you should be more worried about how much the dark edges around your vision are growing. The last thing you feel before falling into a dreamless sleep is how much your stomach hurts.     You’re startled awake at 12:03am.     “Sorry, sweetheart,” you hear Yoongi’s voice permeate the darkness.     Seconds later, you feel his arms wrap around you. You roll over immediately, snuggling against his chest.     “I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he says hoarsely, pulling the blanket higher up over you. “I’m so sorry.”    You shake your head. “Are you okay?”     He sighs, a heavy and weary sound that goes straight to your heart.  “I’m fine.”    “Liar,” you accuse gently, hugging him a little tighter. “What’s going on?”    “Just busy. We’re working hard. Same as usual…”     You press a kiss to his collarbone. “I know. You need to get some rest.”     He crushes you closer. “I love you, sweetheart. I’m sorry I woke you up. You must be exhausted, too. Let’s get some rest, both of us, yeah?”    “Okay,” you breathe, already feeling your eyelids growing heavy again. “Goodnight, baby.”    He spreads a few soft kisses across your face. “Goodnight, my darling girl.”

The next morning, your alarms go off at the same time and you struggle awake together. You’re both moving too slow, so you’re almost late, but he still insists on driving you to work that day. On the way over, you don’t talk much, but he holds your hand over the center console like usual and that keeps you steady.    When he pulls up in front of your building, you lean over to give him a kiss. “Have a good day, Yoongi,” you say, but your attention is already on what awaits you inside.     “You too, sweetheart,” he says, but he doesn’t let go of your hand. Studying you, he frowns a little. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem a little pale—”    You power-up a false smile. “Don’t worry. I love you!” You press another kiss to his cheek and escape under this pretense.     When you get out of the car, he reaches to roll your window down to call after you, but just then his phone buzzes so he abandons the idea and answers as he pulls away.    You don’t turn around to watch him go, but your heart still flips when you hear the car leave. Staring up at your office building, you feel a sudden rush of dizziness and have to shut your eyes for a moment until it passes.    The last day, you remind yourself. I need this job, I need this job, I need this job.    You walk into the office and see Coworkers #2 and #3 sitting at their desks already. #2 is on the phone, but he gives you a bright smile as you walk past.     “Hey! Are you—” Coworker #3′s voice falters as you move past her seat. “Whoa, are you okay?”    You hesitate only slightly. “What?”    She’s frowning. “You look really pale,” she says, lowering her voice slightly. “And have you lost weight?? You—”    “I’m fine.” You feel the tips of your ears burn: if The Problem heard talk like this, it would be yet another way he could take you down. “Just tired.”    “Are you sure? If—”    “Positive,” you cut her off again. “Thanks. Plus, today’s the day, right? After this, things will be better.” Your stomach aches at the reminder.  I can’t fail. “We better get to work!” You attempt cheerfulness and fail miserably.     Coworker #3 gives you a furtive look, but doesn’t bring it up again.     The Problem walks in exactly on time, sighing dramatically before flopping into his chair. Leaning back in his chair, he looks around the room, his gaze landing on you. “Well, here we are. I hope everyone is confident in their individual work…?” He lets it hang in the air.    Coworker #2 sets the phone down too hard, already irritated. “I’m sure we’re all confident in both our personal AND our group work. Right?” He stares at The Problem until the other man is forced to look away from you.     He pastes a sickening smile on his face. “Of course.”    “Then let’s get started,” you say, trying to keep your voice devoid of any emotion. “We’ve only got 8 hours left.”

    Hour 1: The four of you work in silence. The Problem gets up twice to refill his coffee, making much more noise than is necessary. You get another text from your bank.     Hour 2: A portion of Coworker #2′s work didn’t save correctly. The ensuing meltdown leaves you frazzled and The Problem gleeful.    Hour 3: The Problem sneaks away and is later found chatting in the staff room by Coworker #3. She doesn’t tell you everything he was saying, but the pit in your stomach knows well enough.    Hour 4: You make sure everyone triple saves their work as lunchtime nears. The Problem goes on another secret mission but returns deflated: the bosses are having a private lunch and he was not allowed to join. The secret satisfaction you feel at this fades as he critically looks over one portion of your work. You skip lunch to continue working.   Hour 5: Somehow, The Problem’s attitude has gotten even worse since lunch. He snarks and sneers and reluctantly helps Coworker #3 on their joint section. While they’re bickering, Coworker #2 sends you a file: it’s a list of incidents and complaints that he’s preparing to send to the boss and HR. You manage a tiny, real smile.    Hour 6: The Problem finally directly challenges you on a portion of the project that you’ve worked on. Backed by both of your other coworkers, the three of you manage to shout him down. He works half-heartedly on his assigned portion.    Hour 7: Your stomach hurts so much. Every time you take a small break from the work in front of you, it feels like it’s going to swallow you whole. You force yourself to drink some water, but it sloshes too uncomfortably in your empty stomach. Your head aches and you feel unbelievably tired. Almost there…   Hour 8: Fifteen minutes before the deadline, you save, double-save, triple-save, and back-up the project to 3 different locations.     “It’s finished,” Coworker #2 says, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his eyes violently.    “I guess,” scoffs The Problem, getting to his feet. He locks eyes with you. “Hope you feel good about it, Team Leader.” Without waiting for a response, he turns on his heel and heads for the door. “See you guys in there. I’ve got something to do.”     Out of the corner of your eye, you see Coworker #2 add something to his list.    “Ignore him,” Coworker #3 encourages; she clearly is still very worried about you. “It’s going to be fine. I think we’ve done some good work here.”

     The walk from your shared office space to the boss’ office isn’t very far, but by the end of it, your legs feel like jelly, your heart is pounding, you’re short of breath, and your head is screaming. You sink into the nearest chair, trying to convince yourself that you were fine. Your stomach aches.    The meeting is short. The Problem tries 3 times to throw you under the bus, but at this point, you and your other two coworkers are prepared and unified. By the end, even your boss seems irritated with The Problem—at least, you think that’s what is happening. You can’t really be sure anymore, to be honest: your vision is going slightly blurry, the dark edges growing, and you feel incredibly light-headed.    45 minutes past usual quitting time, your boss gives you a solemn nod. “Well done,” he says seriously. “This project is much better and more what I was expecting. Thank you.”    The relief washes over you and you feel weak.     “Well done, Team Leader,” your boss adds, then gives Coworkers #2 and #3 a smile. “Now go home and get some rest.” It might be your current physical state, but you swear he gives The Problem a slightly disapproving look.     It must be real, because The Problem is the first to leave, disappearing without another look at any of you. Somewhat numb, you get to your feet with the other two, following them out of the office. As soon as the three of you are out of sight of the boss’ office, Coworker #2 gathers both of you into a giant hug.     “We did it!!!! Oh man!” He releases you with a huge exhale. “We should celebrate! Dinner? Drinks? Meat??”    Coworker #3 gives him a look, then tilts her head towards you meaningfully. “I think I’m just going to take our brilliant Team Leader home.”    He turns to look at you, and even in your fuzzy state you can see the look of concern that crosses his face. “Oh, right. Yeah. Let’s get some rest tonight. We can celebrate tomorrow!”    You manage a smile. “Sounds good. G-good job you guys.”    Coworker #3 loops her arm through yours securely. “It’s all because of you, oh fearless leader!” she quips. “Let’s go!”    Sitting in the passenger seat of her car, you try to relax; the last thing you wanted was for her to have to walk you up to your apartment door. So you fake a brighter smile, thank her for the ride, and hop out before she can offer to help. You turn to wave as she drives away, gritting your teeth against the way your head starts spinning, but wait until she’s gone before you move.     I did it. You think as you slowly climb the stairs. I made it. I’m not going to get fired. Things are going to be okay. Your stomach flips and you have to pause for a second: Don’t throw up, don’t throw up, don’t throw up.     You wait until the feeling passes.     I just need to get inside. Lie down for a while….maybe…maybe eat? The house will be cool and empty and calm.     Empty. You realize you hadn’t texted Yoongi all day. Now that things were over, you could finally relax around him, tell him the truth. You stumble on the last step, nearly face-planting but saving yourself at the last second.     Just need to…lie….down.     You punch in the door code, push it open, step inside—and are startled to see Yoongi sitting on the couch.     “Baby—” he gets to his feet, a smile on his face, but it disappears when he sees you.     The surprise is too much for your already-battered body. You try to step towards him and everything goes dark. 

    Fortunately for you, he was already moving towards you when you crumpled; he managed to catch you before you hit the floor, cradling you carefully against him in a state of controlled panic.     You wake up as the EMTs are loading you into the ambulance, and the only thing that stops you from freaking out is the sound of his voice.     “I don’t think she’s eaten for a while,” he’s saying as he climbs in next to you. “She’s overworked, overtired—Maybe dehydrated? I don’t—”    “It’s okay, sir,” one of the medics says. She gives him a small smile. “She’s going to be fine.”    “Yoongi…” you mumble, his name getting lost in the oxygen mask over your face, but at that moment he turns to look at you anyway.     Exhaling in relief, he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he reassures you, brushing your hair away from your face. “I’m here.”    Something about the combination of your complete exhaustion, the motion of the ambulance, the oxygen mask, and the warmth of Yoongi’s presence lulls you into a light sleep.     There’s a transfer from the ambulance to the emergency room, from gurney to hospital bed. There’s several people in scrubs and masks that look you over. You vaguely feel the prick of the IV in your arm. You’re asked a lot of questions and you give a lot of answers you can’t remember, but eventually, you’re left alone.    Almost.    Taking your hand, Yoongi leans down to kiss your forehead again. “You’re going to be okay,” he says softly against your skin. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.”    You shake your head weakly. “You don’t have to apologize. I—”    “You’re extremely dehydrated,” he cuts over you, tightening his hold on your hand. “I don’t think you’ve slept well for days. And you…you said you hadn’t eaten for—since Monday?? Sweetheart, I….” he’s getting worked up.      You squeeze his hand. “It’s not your fault.”     Exhaling shakily, he meets your eyes. “Why?”     “Well—” you suddenly look at him. “Wait. Don’t you need to be at work right now? What about the tour problems? And Tae? And Jimin’s back. And—”    “Stop.” He finally pulls a chair close to the bed and sits. “I only need to be here right now. With you. This is where I should have been for the last few days, then maybe we wouldn’t be here right now.”    You close your eyes in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”    Pressing the back of your knuckles to his lips, he shakes his head and murmurs. “Don’t say sorry. Let’s just talk. Tell me everything.”   So you do. You tell him all about the project, The Problem, your boss, your coworkers, the bank notifications, everything.     “And I just got so worked up over it,” you finish tiredly. “I didn’t want to talk about it. And then I knew you were busy, so I didn’t want to bother you….and things just got out of control.”    He nods slowly. “I should’ve paid better attention,” he says quietly. “We were both too wrapped up in our own things. Never again, I promise you.” He reaches up to brush your hair back again. “I will do better at my job of keeping you safe and healthy and happy, okay? I promise.”     You’re too tired to argue so you just nod.     Smiling, he reaches up to kiss you softly. “And in return,” he adds, stroking the side of your face, “You have to talk to me. About all the things, all right? Especially the ones that make you worried and want to stop eating. Can you do that?”     You nod again. “I think I can manage that.”     “Also, you have to promise to do whatever it takes to stay healthy, okay? I can’t live without you,” he smiles. “So it’s your responsibility to take care of the most precious thing on this earth. Understood?”      You roll your eyes but fondly. “I love you,” you say quietly.       He kisses the tip of your nose. “I love you more. Now, let’s get you some rest so we can go home and snuggle. Okay?”    You laugh lightly and agree.

    When you’re finally released from the hospital, Yoongi insists on pushing your hospital-mandated wheelchair out to the waiting car. He wraps an arm around your waist and basically carries you to the backseat, helping you in before shutting the door behind you both securely. He holds you close on the ride on home; you rest your head on his shoulder gratefully.     The babying continues when you arrive back at the apartment: he scoops you into his arms and carries you all the way up to your place, commenting in a displeased voice: “You’re too light, babygirl. You need to stay healthy.”    You give his neck a squeeze. “Whatever you say,” you agree, resting your head against his shoulder. At his light scoff-laugh, you smile. “I’m just trying to live up to my promises!”    “Sure, sure.”     As soon as you reach the apartment, he takes you straight to bed, settling you in your spot and tucking the blanket around you securely. Kissing your cheek, he says, “Now. What do you want to eat? Anything you want, baby.”    “Um….” you pretend to think hard. “Maybe…kimbap? BBQ? Pizza? Soup?” At his humored expression, you grin. “Everything sounds good!”    “Then everything,” he says, kissing your lips softly, “is what you shall have.”    While you both wait for the food to arrive, he never leaves your side. You cuddle against him, watching mindless TV and drinking from the water bottles he keeps pressing into your hands until he’s satisfied.     He insists on feeding you the first few bites of food until you finally rebel, accepting his kiss happily instead. The two of you eat in relative silence, and you realize just how hungry you are.    Tipping your head over onto his shoulder, you say softly, “I’m sorry I worried you.”    He turns slightly to kiss your temple again. “You’re safe, sweetheart. That’s all that matters.”    At that moment, your phone goes off. Your knee-jerk reaction is panic, but it immediately fades as you remember that everything is over and Yoongi is there next to you. Still, you take a small breath before reading the screen. The smile spreads across your face slowly.    Yoongi glances at you. “What is it?”    You turn the screen towards him:    Coworker #3: YOU GUYS. SJ just got transferred to another department!!!!!! He can never bug us again!!!!!!!!!    Yoongi grins with you. “That’s great news.” He kisses you again. “See? Everything is going to be fine.”    “You’re right.”     He clears the almost-empty food containers off the bed and when he climbs back in, you snuggle into his side automatically. He wraps his arms around you and presses a few soft kisses all over your face. “I love you so much,” he says in between kisses. “I’m so proud of you. You did it.”    “Yes,” you agree, feeling your eyes close all on their own. I did. 

[supersizemeplz]

I'm There

Erik Killmonger x Black PlusSized Reader

Another #supersizedfic short. I listened to Summer Walker's I'm There as I wrote. Excuse typos. Enjoy!

The car door slammed shut, followed by the familiar beeps indicating it's locking. Quickened footsteps met the wet sidewalk, stepping in puddles as they ventured to the safety of the porch. The rain had finally calmed enough for you to make a run for his door. Your keys jingled as you used both hands to shake some water from your umbrella.

Wrapping the designated strip around it, you fastened the plain black fabric in place. You hated being out when it was raining. But he'd called for you. Turning to the wooden door, you pressed the doorbell twice before stepping back. As you waited for him to open the door, you glanced over to his car. Some custom model he'd been excited about months back. It was blacked out, tint stopping any peering eyes from the outside.

Blocking the world out from what's inside. Just like it's owner.

"Its nice, huh? The only one of its kind.." You turned towards his voice. "I figured you'd like it too." And you did. He smirked as he stepped from the doorway, closer to you. His hands were stuffed in his pockets as he looked you over, dreads braided back and out of his vision. Those full lips caught your attention before the gold canines peeked from behind them.

You broke your gaze from them before meeting his amused eyes. "Erik..." Your voice was soft and innocent. A sound he'd missed. He mumbled a satisfied 'hey, princess'. Pulling his hands from his pockets, he held out his arms. You stared at him for a moment before walking into them, taking in his scent as it welcomed you. It was wrong, but it felt right.

He pressed a kiss into your hair, hugging you tight. You eased his mind. "I missed you." His confession came out in a whisper. Absent mindedly, he rocked your bodies gently side to side. You couldn't fight the smile that teased your lips. You'd surprisingly missed him too.

When he finally pulled away, the rain started to pick up. You glanced back to see it pouring, splashing against the pavement of the street. You really hated the rain. Erik took your hand in his, leading you into the warmth of the house and locking the door behind both of you.

Erik leaned against the door, arms folded as he watched you as you shed from your jacket. It'd been exactly three months and a week since he'd last seen you. He'd kept count. That was partly because of some business he had to handle, but most of it was to give you space.

The last encounter he'd had with you wasn't one he'd expected. You'd stormed out as you wished you'd never met him, holding back tears and refusing to let them fall in front of him. He'd made the mistake of letting you in. It was so hard for him to not be himself around you. You were easy to talk to, willing to hear him out and see past his troubled exterior. He gravitated towards you more as time passed. With that you'd fallen for him faster than you'd expected.

When he realized his feelings for you were strong, he tried to reverse it. Seeing you less, seeing her more. Though he couldn't bring himself to engage in sexual activities with the mistress, he'd hoped her company would stop the flutter in his heart for you. No woman amounted to you, but he wanted to weaken his feelings for you emotionally.

Emotionally. Emotions.. He didn't realized he possessed them, aside from his usual anger. No one could understand him or his determination. That was up until he'd found you. That's even he'd found happiness, hope within himself.

But he wouldn't taint you with his issues. All the reasoning he'd made up to ease his guilty conscious flew out the window when he'd seen the hurt you wore that day. You'd caught him.

Feeling an unfamiliar tug at his heart, he'd wanted to hold you as you yelled at him. To comfort you and apologize a million times. But his stubbornness wouldn't let him run after you. Maybe he'd save you heartache. In his mind, he figured it was best that he didn't get attached.

Though he was sure he already was.

"Erik?" You now stood before him, looking up at his zoned out expression. "You alright?" The worry in your voice was evident. His expression looked pained. He relaxed at your touch, not noticing that he'd tensed up during his thinking.

He cleared his throat, nodding as he brought his hand to your face. "Yeah, I'm good baby girl. I just really missed you." His voice was soft again. Showing his vulnerability. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip as he leaned closer. All those nights he'd dreamt of you, but now you were actually here. "I didn't think you'd actually come. After everything that happened, after all I did. I was surprised that you'd answered my call. I know it's early as hell, but I couldn't sl-"

He stopped his rambling when you pressed a kiss to his lips. "Erik, baby.." You mumbled the words against his lips. "I know we have a lot to get through, but I'm here. I don't know why, but I am. It's something about you that I can't tear away from. And it's like.. You call and I'm there."

____________________

Taglist: @sisterwifeudaku @kumkaniudaku @elaindeereads @wawakanda-btch @theunsweetenedtruth @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @unholyxcumbucket @purple-apricots @marvelpotterlove @madamslayyy @onyxvixen-writer @chaneajoyyy @disneysdarlingdiva @wakanda-inspired @justanotherloveaffair @cmonkillmonger @slimmiyagi @princesskillmonger @theblulife @airis-paris14 @fonville-designs @liviy00 @cosmicmelaninflower