#sounds fake to me. give those men some mutual pining

[dilfkuza]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 龍が如く | Ryuu ga Gotoku | Yakuza (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kiryu Kazuma/Majima Goro Characters: Kiryu Kazuma, Majima Goro Additional Tags: Insomnia, Comfort, Long-Distance Relationship, Regret, Mutual Pining Summary:

Adjusting to life outside of Kamurocho is harder than Kiryu thought it would be. Especially when it feels like something is missing.

[slightlymore]

hardest to love

part of the ‘soulmates collection’

surgeon!doyoung x surgeon!fem reader

others: haechan, jaemin, jeno

genre: medical au (but the medical part is not heavy), romance, angst, smut, fantasy elements, “enemies” to lovers, mutual pining 

warnings: +18, esplicit sexual content: doyoung is a hard dom and a soft dom in different scenes, short instances of sub doyoung, finger sucking (I know, I have a hand kink), spanking, raw, ice play, fingering, dry humping, thigh riding, choking, use of "sir", orgasm control and denial, edging, overstimulation, light degradation, oral f, brat taming, safe word, wine play?; lots of teasing; swearing; discussion around death; doyoung is a jerk but gets better

words: 13k

note: you can read this as a stand alone without having read the other works in the soulmate collection. what you need to know: haechan, jeno and jaemin travel different universes with the purpose of getting doyoung and yn be together. mark is trying to do the opposite. sometimes doyoung can remember past lives and sometimes he can't. this life takes place in a hospital. if you're confused by the three boys’ story everything will be explained in their backstory fics coming soon. 

__________

Haechan let out a single deep sigh. 

“Damn it. Doyoung is a fucking jerk in this life.”

The three young men were standing in the corner of the room watching two students trembling mortified in front of a pissed off Doyoung before he could turn around on his heels. 

“I thought he was a jerk in all lives,” Jeno commented while dusting off imaginary lice off his jacket. 

"I’ll be honest. When you said 'hell' I didn't expect the ER."

“Well have you ever been to-” Haechan continued but stopped when noticing Jeno not listening to him anymore but observing their third friend instead. 

“Hey, Jaemin?” Jeno put one hand on his shoulder. 

Jaemin was weak and paler than usual, eyes wide and with a slightly trembling chin. He then followed the direction of the younger gaze and gasped himself. 

“Yeah,” Haechan grated the back of his head. “I’m sorry. I told you this one is going to be hard.” 

Jaemin gulped, looking at himself walking around the bed and checking on the patients. 

That Jaemin looked exactly like him. 

The only difference was the clothes. That doppelganger had a doctor gown instead of a sweatshirt. 

“How is this possible? I don’t understand how I can be here and there at the same time.”

Haechan sighed at Jaemin’s comment. 

“You could consider it time travel. Now, listen to me.” 

Jaemin let himself be grabbed by Haechan’s hands, pressing on both of his arms and looked at the other’s intense eyes. 

“You have to avoid yourself while we work and-,” he stopped as if making sure to have Jaemin’s whole attention, “-you can’t talk to her.” 

As if Haechan’s voice was a spell that summons people, Jaemin raised his gaze from him to look behind Haechan’s shoulder where a woman was slowly walking the corridor, eyebrows furrowed trying to understand the medical records she was carrying. 

“Shit,” Haechan silently cursed and, placing one hand on Jaemin’s cheek, he indicated to keep quiet by putting one finger on his own lips. 

If Jaemin weren’t so weak in the limbs upon seeing her, he would have felt the tingle on his skin coming from Haechan’s palm, or he would have realized that the woman walked past them as if they were all invisible. 

Jeno, arms crossed on his chest, followed the woman with his eyes then nodded once as to indicate that the path was clear. 

“Why can’t I talk to her?” 

Jaemin’s head wanted to turn around and catch another glimpse but Haechan didn’t move his hand from his face yet. 

“You might, I promise. But only when I say so.” 

“Haechan and I can shapeshift and become invisible but you can’t and we won’t be around to babysit you all the time. Do your part and stay out of trouble.”

"You look mean,” Jaemin mumbled. 

"I am. Now move."

__________

A breath. 

A deep and heavy breath. 

He was hearing it inside his skull. His own irregular breath inside his own skull. 

Then a loud ringing suffocated every other sound in Doyoung’s ears. Like tinnitus, he thought, so used to elaborate information by classifying it into boxes.  

The man was looking at his hands as if they were not his, fingers gripping the defibrillator pads, watching how the chest underneath them rose and fell. 

Again. 

And again. 

A machine. The defibrillator and Doyoung. 

And that body as well. 

But it was too broken to be fixed. 

And when he barely heard the nurse’s question he straightened his back. “Time of death,” he inhaled, his hands now uncovering the wristwatch, “2:41 am,” he exhaled.

__________

Doyoung felt it inside his hands, under the skin. 

It was uncomfortable. 

He looked at his left palm and wished it trembled. 

"A surgeon," the announcement came in the form of a hard pat on the shoulders.

 Doyoung blinked surprised and put his glasses back up on the nose. 

"Great hands," the professor shook them with vigour, his eyes wide open and intense. "Steady," the old man continued his litany of compliments. 

Doyoung let him wiggle his arms for a few more seconds before sighing as another student grabbed the professor's attention. 

The young boy looked down at his hands as well after the man turned his back. 

His eyes scanned every line in his palms as if seeing them for the first time. 

"Those hands will do big things in the future" and Doyoung now, shoulders heavy, moist fringe patted on his forehead in the humidity of the terrace, felt like cutting his hands off. 

Yes. Big things. 

Like playing with life and death. 

Didn't you just kill a man? he asked his hands, lower lip trembling instead of his steady fingers. Huh? and you're fine? 

Doyoung tightened his fists with disgust and punched the air while letting them fall with force to his sides. 

The rain intensified and he stepped in the front further until feeling the cold and heavy drops hit his face. Their sound was chaotic and it calmed Doyoung's heart. 

Again. 

I can do it again. I've done it before. 

I do it again. 

I can get over it. 

He opened up his hands under the rain until he started to not feel his fingertips anymore. 

Then he walked back inside the hospital.

__________

When you had to deal with the first dying patient, you were paralyzed. 

It was very early in the morning. Your head was still full of the dreams you had just a while ago. Your heart was full of life and excitement for finally being able to work in the field. 

"Get your shit together."

That voice startled you. 

Doctor Kim, the most ruthless and cold person you've ever met, was your supervisor as an intern. 

You looked up at him and caught his dark eyes on that spectrally pale face. 

You just moved. You had no idea what you were doing. Terrified, you let your body work automatically. 

Doctor Kim was calm and efficient while your whole mind felt out of place. 

Oh, God. Oh God, please. 

And when his voice finally reached your ears as if from far away you sunk down on your knees. 

"Good job everyone." 

The kindest thing he has ever said to his interns.

The other vaguely kind thing was his introductory discourse. 

"I know that interning at the ER is dreadful, but that's life."

He was staring you all down, a short line of fresh out of med school trembling kids, no one having the courage to meet his eyes. 

"You have to be ready to see all sorts of things here. Okay, let's go."

And that was it. 

The encouragement of his introductory discourse. 

You'll feel like shit here, welcome. 

You hated him and you swore to yourself that you won’t behave the same. 

Ever. 

He was like a souless machine, walking around and tending to his duties. Lost in thoughts as your eyes scanned his figure walking busily around the hospital, you actually wondered if he had feelings at all. 

The first time you saw Doctor Kim actually show some type of sentiment, was when he exited the surgery room one day. 

You were walking around with the others and checking on the patients when he walked through the corridor like a storm. It was unclear what type of feeling that was but it made you unable to stop staring at his side of the face and back as he entered his office. 

The anaesthetist came out soon after, slowly and sighing deeply. 

And then you understood. 

You've lived many of those days afterwards until you had to welcome your own row of interns. 

You smiled and did a nice short welcoming discourse. 

And at that moment you, unfortunately, got what Doctor Kim meant when he was brusque with you in the beginning. 

It took you all three years of residency to finally get it: there were no actual right words to tell the students and there was no point in giving fake hope that everything is going to be alright. 

Still, there was no point in being a rude ass like him. So you at least smiled kindly and encouraged your students. 

God knew they needed it even more now.

You've never spoken much to Doctor Kim besides what was needed or the routine good morning sir and the short morning he would answer with. 

So it was strange that on the first day of your career as a real surgeon, after your hands and those of Doctor Kim near each other worked, barely moving, his muffled voice ordering the tools, your muffled voice doing the same, you hugged him. 

You hugged him that day for no reason besides the overwhelming feeling of being alive. 

Doctor Kim, after every surgery, good or bad, would always walk out on the terrace. 

You followed him that night and stopped behind his frame. You had to talk to someone about what just happened and he was the only one who might understand. 

He was facing the city lights and the wind breeze ruffled his hair. He didn’t care to push it off his forehead. 

"You did well today," he said quietly without looking at you. 

Oh, you blinked fast. 

Your first surgery was a success but your heart was beating so fast that you couldn't understand your feelings. 

Were you happy? Were you about to cry? Did you want to scream and jump? What did you want? 

But Doyoung just complimented you. 

So again, you let your body work automatically and you looked at yourself, as if going through depersonalization, timid feet filling the space between you and Doctor Kim, your hands touching his waist and going around it until meeting each other on his stomach. You placed your head on his shoulders and closed your eyes. 

"I was so scared," you whispered. 

Doctor Kim's body was stiff, no reaction from his posture, no words coming from his mouth. 

Was he shocked? Was he wondering what the hell were you doing? Was he about to tell you to get your shit together again like that first time three years prior? 

But he didn’t do any of these things. 

He sighed once and you imagined him closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of your body. 

Even if for a moment. Even if it was all in your head and he actually hated it. 

Then he took a step forward and you had to let him go. 

And when he turned around and placed one palm on your shoulder without looking at you in the face, you remained alone on the terrace, breathing the cold air deeply and longing for his hands to hold you a little longer.

__________

Doyoung didn't speak to you again after that night. 

Nor did he look at you once. 

While you found yourself staring at his nape every time he walked around. Or turning your head as if following the trail he left behind. 

You couldn’t wear perfume in the hospital but it was as if Doyoung did because he’d pull your senses towards him by something invisible. 

As if that first touch you shared connected you to him in obscure ways. 

“Here’s the coffee that you asked for, sir.” You entered his office after his dry “come in”.

His expression was priceless and for a moment you felt the urge to look behind you and see if there were a ghost scaring him.

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

“Bringing you the coffee?” 

“I asked a student to do it, not you. You’re a surgeon.” 

Your lips were dangerously trying to form a smile while you placed the coffee on his desk. 

“Why does it matter? I am free while those students are busy learning how to be doctors.” 

“You think that just because you hugged me once when you were emotionally unstable, now we’re friends?” 

That question was so sudden and cold to make you snap your head upwards. 

His eyes were darker than usual and you almost gulped. 

“No, sir.” 

Your voice came out as a tiny exhale and if he felt sorry for his sudden and out of place tone, you couldn't see it on his face at all. 

"I was just being friendly as all colleagues would," you added a new note to your own tone, trying to perhaps make him feel guilty. 

"You can give me up."

His reply shut you up and you furrowed your eyebrows. “What?”

"I'm saying," he spoke slowly, "that I don't want to be friendly with you. Now, please leave."

________

"I'm going to fucking kill him!" you threw your head back to drink your espresso shot as if it was alcohol and slammed the paper cup back on the counter. 

Jaemin sighed pouring sugar into his coffee. 

"Why did you even try? He's a jerk." 

The man sipped on his drink slowly, the warmth of it misting his glasses. 

“I just-” you huffed, crossing your arms on your chest. “We’re colleagues. It made sense for him to be a piece of shit with us when we were interns but now? ‘I don’t want to be friendly with you’” you mocked his deep voice. “Who the fuck does he think he is? I swear I’ll accidentally stab him with a knife!”

“Hm. Do you like him?” Jaemin asked with an unimpressed tone. 

You almost grabbed the coffee from Jaemin’s hands and threw it in his face. 

“Are you insane? What does that mean? Why would I like him? Kim Doyoung? Me-” you pressed your index on your chest, “liking that asshole? I hate his guts! I can’t believe you said something like this! What’s to like about him?”

Jaemin felt his fringe move around his forehead at your intense voice as if it were wind. 

“No need to get so worked up about it. You’re just talking so often about him lately. Also, he’s objectively good looking. He’s also smart. I understand.” 

“He’s the ugliest man I’ve ever laid my eyes on! And he’s an idiot! And I don’t talk about him! I have no idea what you’re all about.” 

Jaemin rolled his eyes and finished the drink. 

“Talking of ugly. What’s that shirt you’re wearing?” you asked. 

The man’s head snapped down to look at it. “What’s wrong with it?” 

You chuckled once. “Where did you buy it?” 

“It’s a normal Polo.” 

You laughed even harder. “A Polo you say? And what’s that? A knock off Holo?”  

“What’s Holo?” 

Jaemin’s face was genuinely confused and it amused you even more. 

“Are you getting enough sleep? You’ve been acting weird lately.” 

“Or,” he relaxed his expression, lifting one index up, “I come from an alternate universe.” 

You chuckled once and hit his shoulder lightly as a greeting, liking his new joking side. “See you later then, alternate universe Jaemin.”

__________

Doyoung wanted to hit his head on the desk. 

Your expression, hurt and shocked because of his stupid remarks made his heart tingle in a very uncomfortable way. 

One thing was being severe and one thing was being rude for no reason at all. 

But the thing is that you were everywhere and he hated it. 

Doyoung hated that you were trying to get under his skin. 

Like a scent. Like some kind of drug. 

He’d scrub his hands and forearms even harder before going inside the surgery room as if with the water and soap he could get rid of the feeling of your arms around his torso under the rain too. 

What were you even thinking? Asking for reassurance? From him? Reassurance from the most hated man in the whole hospital? What did you even expect? Why would you even try? 

What a reckless person. 

He noticed it the first time he saw you as well. 

Eyes wide with curiosity and surprise, looking around the ER like it was the best place in the world. Doyoung hated your happiness but he also hated the fact that he would have to assist that light slowly die out with time. 

Or at least he thought that would happen. 

Days after days, months after months, he paid attention like a scientist looking at his object of study, taking mental notes and registering results. Doyoung would jolt with secret joy when his theories would reveal themselves to be true but then, like a rollercoaster, he’d feel weighed down with grief seeing you in the same state as his one. 

Until he didn’t know what to desire to see anymore. 

Until one day he lifted his eyes, head full of a soliloquy towards you. “How are you today? Tell me you got better. Tell me you still have your light because no one needs too many black holes in here.” 

Until he realized that he couldn’t remember anything about his life before you. 

And when you hugged him that day, he felt proud. For your success and your light. 

You were a star and he bathed into that warmth for a little before remembering he was still a black hole and black holes attract stars until engulfing them whole with no turning back.

_________

“Why are you always around?” he blinked annoyed. 

You straightened your gown that shifted after bumping into him and sighed loudly. 

“In case you forgot, I work here.” 

Doyoung sighed. 

“This is the farthest yard from where you’re always playing with your friends.” 

“I had business coming here.” 

“What business?” 

“That’s my business.” 

Doyoung’s corner of the mouth twitched. 

“It’s our business.” 

“Are you a communist?” you placed your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side. 

“I’m your superior. What are you doing here?” 

A few nurses whispered passing you by and you cleared your throat, trying to relax your face muscles. Doyoung rolled his eyes once upon seeing your new fake cordial expression. 

“Apparently I’m doing such a good job that Mr Jung wanted to compliment me,” you raised your chin. 

“Mr Jung?”

“Yes.” 

His nostrils widened as if he had too much air to inhale and didn’t have time to get it little by little. 

“He doesn’t just summon people to compliment them. Stay away from him.” 

You scoffed incredulously at his innuendo. 

“Are you hearing yourself?” 

“Very well. Get back to work now.” 

“Are you perhaps jealous?” the words slipped from your mouth before you could stop yourself. 

But Doyoung, to your biggest surprise, smirked a little, lifting his eyebrows once. 

“And if I were?” he asked, then walked around you, leaving you still for long moments in the corner of the corridor before being able to walk again.

_________

“And then he said, “and if I were?”

Jaemin gulped his food and chuckled. “I can’t imagine that.” 

“I know right? Was he crazy?” you asked with your mouth full, swinging your knife. 

“Maybe the director does have eyes on you. And-” he leaned in mischievously, avoiding your cutlery, “that’s why he acts as if he hates you. Because he has feelings for you.” 

You chuckled nervously. 

“He hates you too!” 

“He doesn’t even know I exist,” Jaemin shrugged. 

“Hey, Jaemin.” 

“Like once I asked him something and he thought I was a patient and when I said that I’m actually-” 

“Jaemin! I’m pretty sure I’ve just seen someone looking like you pass that door just now.” 

The young man turned around quickly, right in time to see himself exit the food hall. 

“Damn,” he laughed for a few moments. “Someone else copied my hairstyle. I guess I’m not that unnoticeable as I thought.” 

You opened your mouth to comment on that since you were pretty sure it wasn’t only the hairstyle that the man copied when Doyoung approached your table like a storm scaring the shit out of you. 

“What is it now?” he asked, eyes piercing through you. 

You let out a long “uhhh” before talking, staring him up and down. 

“Are you talking to me?” 

Doyoung scoffed then sighed. “A doctor told me you were urgently looking for me.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Who?” 

“Do I look like someone who knows people’s names?”

Jaemin shook his head. 

“Well, I don’t need you,” you let him know. 

Doyoung sighed again and the long look you exchanged made Jaemin awkwardly chuckle once. 

“You can sit down with us for lunch, sir,” he offered and you inhaled sharply, kicking his leg under the table. 

Doyoung looked firstly at you then at Jaemin then at you again as if not believing he was actually talking to people like you. 

But the tray in his hands was getting heavy and there were no other empty tables. 

He walked around Jaemin and sat down near him. 

Then he rolled his sleeves and started to eat in silence. 

But only for a moment. 

“What?” he asked as you were both staring at him with hanging open mouths. 

“It’s our first time seeing you eat,” you whispered. 

Doyoung gulped the food. “I’m putting on a show for you guys. I’m a vampire that doesn’t need food.” 

“See!” you hit Jaemin’s hand as if catching his attention. “He’s making jokes!” 

Jaemin leaned back in his chair as if a little afraid. 

“So you talk about me instead of working,” Doyoung commented. 

His eyes were on you and you suddenly realized what you’ve just said. 

“No,” you quickly grabbed your glass and sipped the water. 

Doyoung looked at Jaemin and the young man secretly nodded a little. 

And for the first time in years, you saw Doyoung smile. 

Like a full-on smile. A big open smile with all the teeth out. 

You blinked fast and before realizing your own lips were stretched in a smile too.  

He was breathtaking. 

You wanted to run away but also crash into him. You were at the top of the world and down in the dumps.

__________

The grunt you let out after hitting a hard surface resonated in the whole hallway. 

For the second time. 

"You are always where you shouldn't be."

You lifted your pained eyes while massaging your shoulder just to see Doyoung do the same. 

"Where am I and where am I supposed to be then?" you asked. 

"Around me and you should be far away from me." 

"And if I say that I'm doing it on purpose?" 

Doyoung's pupils trembled. 

"To make you mad," you explained, the little smile creeping on your lips making him tighten his. 

“You’re trying to make me mad?” 

In your head, all of the conversations you would have with Doyoung sounded fun and risky in a good way. 

In reality, you realized, it was so overwhelming that you felt your limbs shake. 

“I’m joking, sir.” His intense eyes made you look over the windows. 

“You don’t like to look at me in the eyes?” his voice was mellifluous just as his movements, getting slowly closer to you. 

“Your eyes make me uneasy,” you replied honestly. 

Doyoung tilted his head to the side, curious, inviting you to say more. You looked at him again. 

“As if they don’t know fear,” your voice was tiny. 

A little smile curved the man’s lips. “Oh, but they know what fear is.”

“And what is that?” 

“What you’re feeling right now.” 

"I am not afraid," you whispered. 

"Then why are you stepping back?" 

“I am not stepping back.”

Yet the air got softly knocked out of your lungs as you felt the wall on your shoulder blades. 

Doyoung didn't reply and just got as close as to lightly brush your lower lip with his knuckle. 

"You're cute when you pout," he whispered, eyes smiley under the strands fallen from his styled fringe. 

You opened your mouth to talk but he walked away, leaving you alone and with an abnormally beating heart. 

Again.

__________

If Doyoung’s newly humorous side was something interesting to share with Jaemin, his newly flirtatious side was something you felt the need to keep a secret. 

Heated up, you walked the corridors like a storm. 

Kim Doyoung? 

Did your body really react that way towards Kim Doyoung? 

Pulse throbbing in places you didn’t want to think of? 

Because of Kim Doyoung? 

Face buried in your wet hands, the cold water running in the sink, you imagined telling this to your younger self. 

Then you lifted your head and turned it off, raising your gaze to look at your dilated pupils in the bathroom mirror.

_________

Doyoung didn’t care about people much. 

Hours upon hours of surgery, he only needed to see his colleagues’ hands and hear their breaths while desperately trying to save yet another life. How they looked without the caps and masks was not something of interest to him, especially knowing superfluous details like their names. 

Yet, when he briefly noticed the eyes of the second surgeon entering the room, Doyoung furrowed his eyebrows. 

Those were not your eyes and those were definitely not your hands in the latex gloves. 

And for the first time, he needed to know who that person was.

“I’m Lee,” the man whispered. 

“I didn’t know you were on schedule today.” 

“Yeah, heard about it last minute as well.”

Were you avoiding him? 

If Doyoung’s body could show tremor, he’d had trembling legs under the desk he sat at after the surgery, and if he’d had the habit to bite his nails, he’d be ferociously eating them by now.

Unfortunately, he was stoically sitting in his office, elbows pressed into the hard iron surface, veins missing adrenaline but aggravated eyes. 

Walking the corridors while people took a step back to make him pass, looking away when he’d look at them and whispering angrily behind his back, was a bliss. 

The protection shielded Doyoung like a fuzzy blanket even if it sometimes felt itchy at night when he found himself the most lonely. 

So when you did the same, passing him by as if hating him, he surprised himself at the sudden discomfort. Especially after

well,

after that. 

He wasn’t sure himself what it was but it must have been something if it made you uncomfortable enough to not show up to a surgery. 

He lifted the corner of his blanket for a moment and he fucked up. 

__________

“Y/N.” 

You stopped in place. 

And so did most people around you. 

Many found Doyoung scary but also interesting to observe when his spite wasn’t directed at them. 

What did she do? you could almost hear the whispery words passing from ear to ear, amused voices, grateful for not being in your place. 

“See me in my office,” Doyoung ordered after you slowly turned around. 

His voice was low and no one could have heard it if the whole yard didn’t just collectively hold its breath. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You all are surely not working enough if you have time to be useless,” his voice sounded louder and clean all of a sudden. “Do you want some hours assigned?”  

Like a spell, everyone looked around and the buzz filled your ears back, leaving yourself and Doyoung the only still figures. 

Then he moved as well, the swoosh of his cloak touching your hand when he passed near you. 

You inhaled deeply and followed him.

_________

“I am sorry.” 

You wished you’d  accepted his offer to sit down because that single sentence floored you. 

“For what?” you asked with a tiny voice. 

“I know I often say things that I don’t mean. And I know that I might have made you feel uncomfortable. So I apologize.” 

His eyes were round and filled to the brim with such sincerity to make you swallow hard. 

“You don’t have to apologize. It was necessary to make me who I am,” you minimized. 

Doyoung looked away for a brief moment. “I mean the corridor incident.” 

You blinked at him. 

“I made a mistake,” he added. 

The first thing that came to mind was the urge to use that to your advantage. 

Scold him. Make him feel guilty. 

Kim Doyoung making a mistake. 

Exhilarating. 

The power suddenly surging in your veins went to your head so you suppressed the smile that so desperately wanted to bloom on your lips. 

“Yes.” 

His expression darkened even more at your reply and his adam apple moved as he swallowed. He actually hoped it wasn’t the case. 

“I’ll make sure to keep the surgery schedules separated so you won’t feel uncomfortable working with me. You could have asked me first though before changing it yourself.” 

The excitement died out with these words. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Thursday’s surgery.” 

“I was told you appointed another person yourself.” 

“I did not.” 

“Well, I didn’t either.” 

“So-” 

“It’s not like I’m trying to avoid you, no. But if you-” 

“I’m not trying to avoid you either. But you said I made you uncomfortable, so-” 

“I was messing with you.” 

He finally went silent. 

“You looked so guilty that I wanted to get a little revenge,” your voice came out a timid whisper. 

Doyoung sighed, closing his eyes a little, then he stood up. 

“Did I seriously cause you that much pain all of this time?” he walked towards you as if actually concerned. 

“You made me cry almost every day.” 

He opened his mouth like a fish before closing it. The shocking confession made him lift one hand to cup your face. 

You both looked at it with fluttering eyes as if it wasn’t his. 

He tried to put it away quickly but you pressed your palm on it to keep it in place.  

“I’m joking. I only cried a few times.” 

Doyoung’s pupils danced around just like his brain trying to process the information you were giving him. His face, confused and not knowing anymore what was a joke and what wasn’t, amused you a lot. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been harsh. I’ve been-”

“A jerk.” 

He gulped, his thumb slowly brushing your cheekbone. 

That little gesture made you close your eyes for a moment. And when you opened them, you just leaned in and placed a quick and chaste kiss on his closed lips. 

“If the corridor thing was a mistake for you, I just did one too. Don’t be too hard on yourself. We can pretend nothing of this happened."

You let his hand go and moved to take a step back just to feel his hold on your face tighten. 

Pulling you towards him again, he added the second hand. 

His lips were not closed anymore, but very much open to welcome your lower lip between them. 

Your hands flew to his hair and pulled him towards you too. He hummed and you whined. And when you both needed air, you let yourselves go, panting against each other’s lips. 

A little smile curved your lips, eyes unable to look up. Fingers on his neck, you let them slowly descend to his chest and you took a step back. 

You took your lower lip inside your mouth for a moment, as if still trying to taste him and walked a few steps back. 

Doyoung followed you, unable to let your body go until you touched the door. His eyes were blown out and he kissed the corner of your mouth again, and again, and again, until kissing you fully on the lips for the second time. Hands on the glass behind your head, you heard his nails grating at it slowly as you let your tongue twirl with his. Then you breathed out and he couldn’t do anything else than just moving his arms away for you to slowly open the door and leave in silence. 

After the door closed, Doyoung pressed his forehead on the cold window. 

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself, the fuzzy blanket he carefully wrapped himself with all of those years slowly slipping away to his feet.

__________

It didn't surprise you to see Doyoung pretend nothing happened between you as you passed each other in the corridors. 

But his avoidance felt weirder than usual, even to external eyes, as if something happened indeed and he tried so hard to conceal it. 

"Perhaps it's the 5th coffee talking right now, but doesn't Doyoung look weird?"

Jaemin asked lazily as he rested his body on one elbow placed on the little resting room counter. Said man passed in front of the open door and the furtive look he took of you was interesting enough for someone bored like Jaemin to notice. 

You shrugged, quickly stirring the sugar in your own coffee. 

"Hm?" your friend smiled at your silence, getting closer. 

You sipped the drink. 

"Hmmm?" Jaemin put his face into yours. 

"Oh my God, get away," you tried to push him away. 

"You had sex."

You spat the little coffee you still had on your mouth. Jaemin giggled and took a step back before it could land on his own. 

"We did not have sex! What's wrong with you?" 

"Okay. So you at least kissed," he looked up to you under his wiggly eyebrows as he handed you a few napkins. 

"We-," you wanted to deny but your lips formed a frustrated smile instead. "Shit. I can't believe it either." 

"Wow."

"He was- so delicate," you murmured. 

Jaemin winced amused. 

"But also intense you know? Like it felt-" 

"Okay wait. I didn't ask for a full-on description," he made a puking expression at you. 

You lightly hit his arm. 

"I was just so surprised. I've never seen this side of him."

"Him liking people?" Jaemin giggled. “Yeah. That’s weird.”

__________

"So it's done. We're done. Let’s get the fuck out of here. Seeing myself around is creeping me out."

Haechan sighed, rolling around in his chair. "Not so quickly. They only kissed."

Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows. 

"They have to confess," Jeno explained with a sleepy voice, sprawled on his own chair. 

"But they love each other."

"They have to say the words."

Jaemin put his hands on the hips. "That's so stupid." 

“Tell this to Doyoung. This is what he wrote in the contract,” Haechan mumbled amused, patting his chest where the Book was snuggly packed near his heart. 

Jaemin grabbed another chair and sat backwards on it, resting his chin on the folded arms. 

“So you know the job is done when they confess? What if they break up afterwards?”

“It has never happened before.” 

“And what if it does happen?” 

Jeno opened one eye. “Don’t manifest doom.” 

“I’d probably have to come back and get them together again,” Haechan replied. 

“I still don’t know why you’re doing this. Can’t you just recede from that contract?” 

Haechan sat up properly and grabbed his water bottle. “And do what? Go back to the pits of hell?” 

His eyes twinkled with mischief. 

“I’ve never had this much fun in a very long time.”

__________

He brought it upon himself, he could admit that. 

Ignoring you was more difficult than he anticipated and the first reaction he managed to put out when you talked back to him in front of all of the other surgeons was his usual skin cutting one. 

You didn’t like it, he could see it. 

You’ve never liked it and, honestly, Doyoung could not think of a single person that enjoyed being on the other side of his table. 

Perhaps you were getting a little comfortable with him though because you leaned back in your chair and smiled. As if for once he couldn’t get to you. 

It made him even more eager to scratch that nonchalance. 

So he did. 

Until the meeting was over and he got back to his office with a weird sensation on his shoulders. It somehow tasted like defeat. 

And when you opened his door with a loud bang and got in, he inhaled and took a few steps back, imitating the steps you took forward. 

You pushed him down on the chair, your gazes mixed together just like your breaths as you leaned down. 

Only the sheer anticipation of you touching him made him lose his mind a little. 

One hand on his thigh and the other going down from his lips to his extended neck and chest, dragging your nail on his shirt until reaching his stomach and belt. 

Then you hit one of his feet to the side with yours, making him open his legs even wider. 

He jolted and you could visibly see the way his breath stopped for a moment. 

"I don't think someone else tried to put you in your place before."

Your voice was dark and his eyelids fluttered before his pupils could fall on the way your palm brushed his crotch. It twitched under his dress pants and he inhaled deeply. 

"Unfortunately, it has to be me." 

"We're at work-," he tried to speak but the words died in his throat as you cupped his balls. 

"Sorry? Didn't hear that." 

"Shit Y/N-," Doyoung closed his eyes, jaw muscles tightening as you gently massaged him. 

"Hmm, Doctor Kim is at a loss of words?" 

You cooed, leaning down even more until almost brushing his lips with yours. 

"So cold and composed while you spit venom all day. I really want to see you lose your mind for once."

He opened his eyes right when he started to pant lightly and you gulped upon seeing his dark gaze. 

"You'll regret this."

"Can't wait to feel regretful."

"Be careful."

"Don't want to." 

His smile grew suddenly wicked and it threw you off as he suddenly stood up, grabbing your wrists and pushing you gently backwards. 

"You’ve been loving fighting with me lately. I think that you just need to get laid."

You smiled. "Do you want to help me with that?" 

Doyoung scoffed once. "I can't stand you."

"Then sit down."

He put his tongue inside the cheek, staring at your raised chin. 

Then his hands suddenly crept around you and grabbed your ass. They squeezed, pulling your hips towards his, making you pant and palm his chest in the meantime. Body pressing on his and his low voice buzzing into your ear made you light headed. 

"Arguing with you turns me on so fucking much." 

You gulped and noticed the way Doyoung’s eyes fell on your open mouth. 

“This is a very pretty shade of lipstick. Makes me want to ruin it.”

His thumb opened up your shocked lips even more by tugging at the lower one, your eyes getting hazy from his expression cutting you in half.

“Suck.” 

The order made your legs buckle a little. Your pupils trembled when you slowly let your tongue touch his fingertip. Doyoung got impatient and pushed it until it was all in. You fought the urge to gag and just whimpered, grabbing his shirt into your fists as he watched you hollow your cheeks on it. 

“I’ve always wanted to make a mess out of you,” he murmured, his other hand cupping your face and feeling your jaw, going down to your neck and wrapping it into its warmth. You raised your face to give him more space and your hooded eyes trying to look at him as he pressed around your throat made him smirk. 

“You like that?” he watched your squirming body trying to get closer to him. He took a step back and rested his hips on his desk, pulling at you until you felt his thigh between your legs. 

“What a slut,” he took out his thumb and spread the saliva on it on your lips. “Bet you wanted to suck me off under the desk, didn’t you? Fuck your superior?” 

You started to breathe through your mouth, the hand wrapped around your throat making it difficult for you to form any thoughts. 

“Or you wanted me to bend you over it?” he murmured, eyes glazing over your breast, his free hand painting one line from your collarbones to the cleavage of it. And when he suddenly squeezed one, feeling its softness in his palm, you almost cried out and dug your fingers into his shoulders. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Doyoung’s corner of the lips lifted as if curiously surprised. 

“And if I don’t do any of those things?” his eyes were on your face now and it made you want to hide away or just beg him to just please do all of those things.

“What are you going to do?” he asked again. 

The pool of wetness inside your panties was so embarrassing that you pressed your forehead on his shoulder. 

"Then just let me go," you whispered in a tiny voice. 

"You're free to g-" he caressed your jaw with one thumb. 

"No. I hate it," you went on, lifting your gaze on him, and he exchanged the look, slightly taken aback. 

"I dream about you every night. It's not about sex, it has never been just about it. Everything about you makes me go crazy. I hate it and I want you to just let me go.” 

Doyoung blinked and cupped your face with both hands. 

You just breathed out, ignoring the little voice screaming inside your mind to shut up, palming the back of his hands with yours, suddenly unable to raise your eyes on him. 

"I just can't understand and I hate being like this," you added after a quick gulp. 

The man opened his lips and you noticed the way you started to breathe in unison. 

"There's something so darkly attractive about you," the tiny sigh coming out of your lips made their way on Doyoung ones and he licked them once, his own breath warm on your skin. 

"No matter how much I try to know you, there's something that escapes me. I can't pinpoint you and it keeps me up at night." 

Doyoung gulped and his hands twitched as they palmed your arms, going down to your hips and pushing you down, gently. 

You gasped silently, your core so swollen that the feeling of the friction of your bodies as you rubbed on him could have been enough to make you orgasm. 

"Sir-," you found the force to talk but he took his tongue out and you just dove in, catching it inside your mouth and sucking on it the way you sucked on his finger. Your eagerness made his hold even tighter, guiding your body rolls, loving the way you squirmed in his arms. 

When you pulled away to whine he raised one hand to bury in your hair. 

"You haunt me too," he confessed. "Sometimes I feel so pulled towards you to make me question everything I know about myself."

Your eyes fluttered and your exposed throat looked so vulnerable in Doyoung's eyes to make him lean in and bite on it. 

The little moans escaping your lips caressed his ears and when he licked the spots you shivered, your hips not stopping for a second. 

It was intoxicating and you didn't dare to speak again but your thoughts were seeping through all of your pores. 

"I want you to tell me what you want me to do," you whispered, words broken.  

"Don't cum," Doyoung ordered and it snapped something in you. 

Your breath grew irregular and he chuckled. 

With a little groan, you forced your hips to still but he looked down and clicked his tongue, pushing his thigh upwards and making you bounce on it a few times.  

"Don't stop."

"But you said-" 

"Don't cum and don't stop." 

"I can't last," you mewled, twitching against his body and he pouted. 

"Baby girl can't keep that in?" 

You shook your head, feeling all dizzy as his hands squeezed your asscheeks, making you rub against his leg again. 

"But I said what I said. Are you going to be a bad girl?" he accompanied his last word with a harsh slap on your ass that made you inhale through your teeth. 

"Sir- I am begging you." 

His hand dropped under your skirt that moved to your thighs in a single movement, the coldness of it on your hot clit making you cry out. 

He hummed amused, slowly pressing into you and circling your sensitive bud until your legs started to twitch. 

"If you want to cum," he stopped, "you'll have to do whatever I say. Is this an agreement?" 

You nodded quickly, so close to orgasm that you started to ride his fingers by yourself. 

He retrieved his hand and pressed it on your stomach, making you step back until you barely could keep your balance. 

"You know where I live, right?" 

You nodded confused. 

"See you later then," he smirked and gestured to leave the office. 

You inhaled deeply, the arousal so high that you considered just finger fucking yourself in front of him. 

"Cruel," you whispered. 

"And you love it," was his amused reply.

__________

Timid feet in front of Doyoung's entrance door, you questioned if you actually lost your mind. 

Were you really willing to go this far for a single orgasm? 

Or multiple, you considered. 

Okay. Well, perhaps it was all worth it in the end. 

Your eyes darted upwards to take in the view of his house. 

The windows were lit on the first floor and it looked like a place you'd love to spend your life in. It was too huge for a single person anyway. 

When he opened the door after the ring announcing your arrival you didn't expect to see him in casual clothing. It looked so off that for a moment you couldn't speak, eyeing his feet in warm socks instead of rubber shoes. 

Then you hit yourself in your mind. Of course, he won't wear his doctor gown at home. 

"Good evening," you finally smiled and he eyed your body with a relaxed gaze, stopping when noticing the bottle of wine you carried in your hands. 

“Good evening,” he gestured to you to come in and you walked the distance from the doorstep to the hallway. His hands draped your shoulders and you sighed when he took your wet coat away. 

You put in a lot of effort in your appearance, choosing the right clothing and accessories. 

And he put a lot of effort into arranging his house for you, lighting up the right candles, you noticed after he indicated a room to the left. 

Yet all you wanted to see was him. 

And all he wanted was to see was you naked. 

Venturing in slowly, you turned around looking at what you figured out was the living room. With the corner of your eyes, you saw the grey of Doyoung’s sweatpants disappear upstairs and it suddenly got silent, safe for the crackle coming from the chimney and the hard rain hitting the windows. You took off your shoes and cautiously walked on the dark wine-coloured rug, close enough to warm yourself. A black glassy mirror was hung on the wall in front of you showcasing the pitiful state you were in because of the storm. Then you looked at the piles of books scattered around your feet placed down in a chaotic path leading to the velvet couches behind you as if someone read them while circling the room and suddenly let them fall on the ground when bored. You followed the spines with your gaze trying to figure out the language they were written in when two feet made their appearance in your peripheral vision, making you snap your head up. 

He approached you with a little smile, getting closer and closer like a black cat. 

New thick energy made it difficult for you to breathe too deeply so you resorted to short inhales and exhales especially after he stopped so close to you. 

Doyoung's hands wrapped yours as he took the wine away and placed it on the coffee table on his left. Then he sighed and you found yourself shivering under his gaze. 

"Take this off," he lightly felt your shirt's material with his fingertips.  

What? You inhaled, mind buzzing at how easy it was this time. No dinner and fancy courtship? 

He did look like someone that'd rather take you into seclusion and have you for himself as quickly as possible though. 

With slightly trembling fingers that you'd never get in the surgery room, you started to unbutton your top. Doyoung tilted his head to the side with a little smirk as if enjoying the show. 

And when you actually found yourself with only your bra on he smiled, even more, eyes grazing your skin slowly until you felt a heatwave shake your limbs. 

“This too.” 

He slowly touched the bra fabric and you gulped. 

“Take it off yourself.” 

Doyoung chuckled once and went around your torso, unclasping it with quick and expert fingers. 

You jolted and you felt your eyelids flutter as it slowly fell down your arms. 

Doyoung grabbed the front part of it and dragged it down to the floor, adding it to the weird maze of books making the eccentric design of his living room. 

His eyes caressed your perked nipples and you tried hard to resist the urge to cover yourself. 

“Pants,” he ordered and his voice was deeper than usual. 

You wavered a moment and he lifted his eyebrows once. Do it. 

You inhaled and slowly opened the zip. 

He bit his lower lip when you bent down to discard the piece of clothing and when you straightened your back he hummed. 

“Wear this,” he gently threw a piece of fabric towards you which you caught quickly. It was soft and it smelled like him. 

He looked at it, then slowly raised his eyes to meet yours, not moving a single muscle. 

You inhaled in again, trying to calm your nerves, desperately wanting to ignore the way he was dressed himself. A white and see-through shirt with the deepest neck you’ve ever seen, barely covering any of his chest. You barely could see his sweatpants as well, but his bare ankles were fully on display, just like his forearms that you could catch glimpses of as he absentmindedly revived the locks blocking his pupils with one hand. 

A raw playfulness made his features even scarier in the dim lighting. 

“I want you wet. But not from the rain,” he explained, eyeing your confusion. 

“You could have just told me to change into it and end it there,” you mumbled, buttoning the shirt up. It was deep blue and oversized, short on your thighs but hiding whatever you had to hide. 

“Why? Did you hate that I made you undress in front of me?” 

“It was embarrassing to stand naked like that.” 

You wanted to sound offended but the pout your lips formed on its own betrayed your secret amusement. 

“Nothing that I won’t see up close soon.” 

His voice was a whisper that forced you to look away. You wanted to reply but he turned around walking towards the kitchen. 

"Besides, I made some spicy sauce. You don't want to spill it on your nice clothes."

“Who said I was going to spill food on myself? I have steady hands.” 

You walked over him, taking the plates from his hold and placing them down on the dining table yourself. 

You wanted to look unbothered by him just like he looked unbothered by you, but the truth was that you just had to do something to not feel that overwhelmed. 

“You don’t,” he argued following you near the table. 

You scoffed lifting your head to look at him. “Excuse you? I’m a surgeon.” 

“Your hands don’t look like the hands of a surgeon when you’re around me.” 

You scoffed. 

“I think that the biggest thing in the world is your ego.”

“You haven't seen my-”

“Don’t say it.” 

He closed his mouth as the little smile he had on kept lingering on his lips. 

Domestic and flirty. It was getting to your head and you hadn’t had the opportunity to sip a single drop of alcohol yet. 

As if reading your mind, he grabbed the bottle of wine you brought and fumbled slowly with the cap. 

"That's my favourite shirt. And I want to fuck you in it." 

The shivers that travelled down your spine almost made your body twitch and your hands stopped in mid-air as you were placing the cutlery. 

He smiled at you when you looked at his expression. 

His lips. His eyes and cheekbones. His skin under the lights. 

Fuck. You really needed a drink. 

And after he popped the bottle open with a loud sound that disrupted the silence, the red wine erupted out of it, dripping off his hand up to the wrist you had your drink right off his fingers. 

Doyoung’s pupils trembled as you leaned in like a cat and his lips opened to breathe better seeing you lick the drops off his fingertips. Rested with his hips on the table, it creaked when you came forward, even more, hands pressed on his open thighs and reaching for his face. You finally caught his lips in yours and you let him taste the wine on your tongue. 

It was rich and slightly sour, then it became sweet as only Doyoung’s taste remained lingering on his lips. 

“Delicious,” he commented after the slow kiss. “You have good taste in wine.” 

“And men.” 

His expression was hidden under his long fringe but you could sense that he was smirking. 

Then he raised his head a bit and had a gulp out of the bottle himself. 

You had the first row to the show that his adam apple moving up and down gave you. Then your eyes naturally fell to his collarbones and bare chest, his white shirt barely covering anything. 

Your fingers gently darted to his skin and you palmed it, then to his prominent collar bones, feeling the warmth of his chain around his neck.

He hummed, letting his head down to catch your hand with his lips. They kissed your fingertips then he finally dove in and let you taste his tongue again, hands quick to let the bottle go and grab your body instead.

Closer closer closer you needed him more and more. 

“I need to feed you dinner first,” he grabbed your wrists as your hands tried to unbutton his shirt. 

“If you won’t fuck me, I can find someone else to do it,” you whispered. 

His eyes tightened and he exhaled once. 

The movement was so quick that your head spun and the spank that arrived at your ass made you jolt on your toes before you could lean down on the table, fingers trying to grip the tablecloth. 

“Yeah? I want to see you get fucked by someone else while my name spills out of your filthy mouth.” 

His voice was raspy and it made you bite your lower lip, ass eager to push back and to rub against Doyoung's crotch. He hummed at your movements and lifted the shirt up to your waist, palming your skin and looking down at the way your ass cheeks engulfed your pretty lingerie. You strained your neck upwards at the feeling of his fingers slowly caressing your lower back, feeling the lace of your panties, then you whimpered as he grabbed the material and stretched it towards him before letting it go. 

"You want this little hole all filled up, don't you?" he murmured, hand sliding between your thighs to rub on the soft and thin fabric. Your legs shifted in place at the sensation and you arched your back for more. The little 'Doyoung' making him exhale. 

"And I thought you'd keep calling me sir." 

You tried to turn your head towards him, wondering if his suddenly absent hand meant that he wanted you to actually call him that. 

But then you saw that hand around you, reaching for the bucket of ice prepared for the wine on the table in front of you. And at that moment you realized that it was for you instead - his drink for the night. 

The ice cube wetted his fingers when he took it out and he first placed it on your open lips. You sucked on it for a moment, the warmth of your skin already melting it, strands of water slowly descending on your chin and inside your cleavage. 

"Say 'blue' and I'll stop," his voice was deep near your ear. 

You nodded breathlessly and you shivered feeling his hand hover over your back. 

And when you first felt it on your spine, your fingers independently grabbed the edge of the table. Then it went down and down, forcing goosebumps out of you. 

Doyoung’s palm soothed your skin, warming it up before reaching to the front to grab at your hard nipples poking through the fabric. And when the cube reached your clothed core you mewled, lifting yourself on the tiptoes. 

“Shit-shit-,” you curled your neck down, jolting under his touch, wanting more of it and running away at the same time. 

Your panties were all wet and you were unsure if for the ice or your own body and when Doyoung took away the cube, giving you a break by gently pressing his own wet fingers between your lips you wished for the fabric to not be there anymore. 

“More?” you whined, chest rising and falling at a crazy speed. 

Doyoung snickered once, his hands grabbing your sides and turning you around.

Mind hazy, you didn’t have the time to wonder where the ice cube went, the only thought roaming your head being the need to pull him closer to you. 

And you did just that, wrapping his waist with your thighs after he lifted you on the table with a thud, making all the cutlery and glasses jingle. 

And you clasped your fingers into his hair while his hands roamed your naked body under his shirt. 

It was when he pressed his cold, open lips on yours that you finally mewled, feeling the ice cube travel from his tongue to yours. 

It got smaller and you sucked on it, giving it back, hearing him hum deeply into the kiss. 

Then he broke it suddenly as if unable to control himself from kissing your neck instead, biting and sucking on your skin as hard as he did on the ice cube. You rolled it on your tongue until it became nothing, finally opening your lips to moan, feeling his cold touch on your breasts as his quick fingers unbuttoned the shirt. 

The material of your panties grazed your legs at Doyoung’s rough pull. You watched them fly and land on the lamp behind him. 

Then you felt his fingers finally rubbing your clit and you inhaled deeply. You were so horny that you were embarrassed to admit that just a few rubs would be able to throw you over the edge. 

Doyoung saw it and from his expression, he was enjoying himself maybe too much. 

“Come on love, cum for me,” he murmured on your open lips. You whined, nail digging into his shoulders and you shook your head. 

“You’ve been begging me for an orgasm and now you want to be a brat about it?” 

His hand worked quicker and when he inserted one of his long and slender fingers inside, you actually moaned loudly. 

“Sir-” the title slipped from your shaking lips and he chuckled against your cheek, pushing another one and curling them both, pressing into you and trying to find the sweetest spots you had. 

“Right here?” he whispered amused. 

You start swearing, moulding his biceps under your tight grip, the table and everything on it shaking at the fast pace of Doyoung’s pumping. 

And then it was too much and it overflowed. 

The gasp you emitted made you fall forwards. Your arms wrapped Doyoung’s body tightly as you came in spasms, legs trying hard to meet each other around his wrist but pressing into his sides instead. 

Doyoung let you whine a little bit more, hand slowing down but never stopping, fucking you through your orgasms as long as he could. Then your jaw got grabbed by his other hand and he lifted your face to meet his gaze. His eyes caressed your fucked up expression before kissing your lips. 

"Good girl. I know you can give me another one."

You gripped his shoulders for dear life as Doyoung's fingers came back outside to desperately rub at your over-sensitive clit. 

“Doyoung-Doyoung-” you writhed in his hold before he could slip away from your arms and fall on his knees. 

You’ve gotten head before, but this time, maybe for the overstimulation or your secret feelings for that man, it felt like the first time ever. 

Not knowing what to grab to steady yourself as his tongue danced in circles around your engorged clit, you buried your hands in his hair. His hands pressed into the softness of your thighs just as hard and when he raised his gaze up to look at you from underneath his messy fringe, you felt like falling. 

And you almost fell when he resorted to quick short licks that drove you insane, making you cum for the second time in such a short time to make you lightheaded. 

The single fuck got prolonged as much as the orgasm Doyoung gave you and when he started to kiss your inner thighs, coming up towards you, on your stomach, pressing his wet open lips on your skin until meeting your breasts, you were ready to admit that you were madly in love with him. 

His kiss felt as if you were underwater, unable to breathe and understand space. You felt his arms around you and suddenly you felt weightless and he carried you around until you felt the velvet of the couches underneath you and his body pressed flushed on yours. His waist got automatically wrapped by your legs again as if that were their place and they weren’t aware of it before. 

He slipped his hands on your hips, grabbing your ass hard as he murmured against your lips. “Are you going to be a brat with me again?” 

His voice was calm but deep as if a storm was incoming, making your knees feel weak. 

“Words,” he spoke again, pressing himself a little more between your legs. 

You breathed out. 

“I don’t know,” you managed to say before pushing him away. He fell to the side, grip softened mostly for the surprise than your strength. 

“Are you going to be a brat to me?” you asked, straddling his lap and pressing your palms on his stomach, going up on his hot skin and lifting his shirt until he couldn’t do anything else than take it off. 

Then his hands found their way on your skin too, unmercifully squeezing your soft breasts. He didn’t care to be gentle and lifting himself up he sucked on your skin so hard until it was almost painful. You wrapped your arms around his torso and threw your head back, stretching out your neck. He left bites all over it, travelling down, tightening his teeth grip around your nipples, making you pant softly. 

“I don’t know,” he finally replied. 

He looked at you from underneath his fringe and you smiled at each other. You caressed his stomach from below his belly button and going up until reaching his collarbones and he leaned back on his elbows to support his weight. He followed your hand going down on him then his eyes shifted their focus to watch how your pelvis started to move back and forth on his sweatpants, right on top of his hard cock. 

“Mm,” he exhaled as finally getting some relief and you imitated him. You placed your hands on his shoulders and closed your eyes and Doyoung flexed his thigh muscles. 

He was enjoying seeing you like that, vulnerable and whiny, needy and horny, while he did nothing to help you with it and leaving you desperate. 

His eyes caressed your whole body, his lips parted slightly at the sight of your breasts bouncing softly, at how you were spreading yourself on him. You felt hot and plump, your thoughts were blurry and foggy. 

"Look at you," he talked. “What a cute little slut.” 

You replied with a whine, locking eyes with him but not being able to do that for a long time as his gaze pierced through you, adding to the sensation his pants gave to your raw clit. 

So you kissed his lips, messily and sloppily, breathing on his mouth and he finally caressed your thighs and ass, pressing you down even more and closer to him. 

Your arms got tighter around his neck and he buried his face into your chest. His hair tickled your chin and you intertwined your fingers into his locks. 

So close to cum, you closed your eyes and just let yourself go, your rhythm lost, your muscles aching, without expecting Doyoung's fingers to suddenly get inside of you. 

You squeezed yourself onto him with a cry. 

"I repeat. Are you going to behave again as you did today?" you heard him ask as his fingers pumped fast into you. 

"No, no, oh fuck, please, no," you managed to answer while gasping for air. 

"I'm going to-" you whimpered about to orgasm and Doyoung at that moment got you off of him, pushing you down on your back and lifting your legs around him, edging you. 

"You're going to cum when I say so," he commented. "You're lucky I'm even giving it to you at all today," he added. 

You bit your lower lip frustrated. 

"Babe, please-" you begged. 

He smiled brightly at the sudden pet name, shushing you as he began to kiss your legs from the knees down, going lightly on the inside of your thigh, making you twitch as he approached your dripping pussy. But he passed over, nudging at it with his nose just to make you jolt and kissed your lower stomach, passing his tongue on the spots he bit before and continued until reaching your lips. 

Then, getting on his knees he finally got rid of his pants and underwear. 

You felt your core pulsing at the sight and breathed heavily. He tugged at your legs, dragging you until the back of your thighs touched his hips and holding himself he nudged at your entrance. You let your arms fall around your head and bit down on your hand as his tip caressed your clit. 

"Doyoung," you whined as your muscles jolted intermittently. You then felt his fingers drag on your leg until grabbing your knee and putting it on his shoulders he humped your folds. 

You let your head fall back into the couch, exposing your neck and making your breasts tighten. 

It was too much. You just wanted him to penetrate you and to make you scream. 

"I want to cum so badly, please," you begged again. 

But he acted as if not being able to hear from you. 

Your muscles twitched in pain and you lifted yourself to meet him. He pushed you down and distanced himself. 

"Behave," he warned. 

You looked at his half-closed eyes and plump lips as he bit it with his teeth. 

He was suffering as well. He couldn't take it anymore, you could tell. 

And when you took your hand to your mouth and licked two fingers, slowly, without breaking eye contact he gasped. 

You were about to suck on them, you wanted to see him going crazy, but you didn't manage to as he penetrated you right at that moment, quick and deep, with a grunt. 

"Fuck," he swore picking up the pace until the wet sounds overwhelmed the storm. 

_________

It was dark. The only light came from the fireplace bathing the living room with a red and yellow hue. 

You were both sprawled on the rug under fuzzy blankets. 

"Come sit on my face. Show me where I belong."

Doyoung’s voice was a low buzz, imitating the storm still going on as it has been the whole night. 

You rolled your eyes to the side amused, ignoring his warm hand palming your knee, nudging you to come closer. 

“You still want to go? I can’t cum again,” you pouted. 

“But I want you to cum,” he pouted as well. 

You sighed and gently got on top of him with the intent of ignoring him and finally fall asleep. 

But his expression changed when you were near enough. “I want you to be completely fucked up when I’m done with you.”

You lifted one hand to cup his cheek and kissed his nose. 

He blinked at you amused. 

“I love it when you smile like this,” you whispered. 

The dying flames danced on his face as he stared at you for a few moments. 

Then you clicked your tongue. 

“Don’t do this.” 

“Don’t do what?” 

“Don’t get all dark and distant.” 

Doyoung exhaled. “I am not.” 

“There’s so much to be proud of, don’t you think?” Your fingers gently started to draw patters on his forehead, going down on his eyes as he closed them, then on his cheeks. He opened his eyelids again after the touch and you talked again. 

“Like striving to do good. Trying. Surviving.” 

His lips opened to let out a small puff of warm air. Then he hugged you tighter and hid his face in the crook of your neck. 

You exhaled too, closing your eyes and lulling his exhausted soul. 

“I am so proud of you,” you whispered but you didn’t know if he heard you.

_________

You woke up in Doyoung's bed. 

It was huge, warm and it smelled like his laundry detergent. The sheets were soft and luscious, caressing your naked body as you shifted underneath them to look to the side. 

Your eyelids fluttered and your lips turned their corners up. 

Fighting the urge to squeal and hide your face inside the pillow, you resorted to admire Doyoung's sleeping face. 

Resting on his stomach with raised arms thrown around his head, only his eyes and ruffled hair poked out behind his bicep and shoulder. And when he slowly opened one puffy eye you giggled and it curved, showing that he was smiling too. 

"Good morning," you whispered. 

Doyoung sighed once first. "It's probably afternoon." 

His sleepy voice made your body heat up and without thinking you just got closer. He turned on his side and wrapped your body with his arms, pulling you closer to his chest. 

"Did you sleep well?" he murmured. 

"Like a baby. You exhausted me enough."

The little kiss he placed on top of your head was so unexpected to make you lift your face. 

He smiled. 

"You inspire so much tenderness in me,” he explained timidly. 

You smiled back, resting your chest on his. His hands automatically wrapped your sides as if they've always belonged there. 

"I'm glad I'm softening your edges. Now you need to behave like this with everyone else too."

"You want me to kiss the whole hospital on the forehead?" 

"Metaphorically."

"Also, I thought you loved my hard edges," he purred, shifting your body to fully rest on top of his. 

His hard cock deliciously poked your clit with its tip as his hands slowly made you roll on it. 

You exhaled and leaned down, rubbing your lips on his as you whispered. "I do."  

His smirk was lazy just like your movements. 

"So you want me just like this?" 

“I want you. I want everything you are. I want everything that you hide.” 

Your hands caressed his chest and came to cup his face. His expression wavered and you found him so vulnerable all of a sudden to make your guts twist. 

“Unleash the darkness that you have inside. Engulf me with it. I am not afraid. I want it.”

Doyoung wrapped your body tightly and pressed you down on himself even more. 

"There's no darkness inside of me anymore. Not when you're around me."

__________

From “I will not vanish” - Haechan’s backstory

The heavy door opened and closed. 

Doyoung looked over his shoulder to see a stranger approach him with slow feet. He raised his eyes and gave Doyoung a small nod. 

The other did the same and when the stranger aligned himself with Doyoung, looking over the cold city, they both exhaled. 

The silence was so deep, safe for the ambulances screaming in the distance that Doyoung found himself restless. 

The stranger leaned on the rail, resting his weight on the elbows and sighed again. 

“You know,” he started. 

Doyoung looked at him with the corner of his eyes. 

“What I like about life,” he paused, “is that you can die.” 

The stranger bit his lower lip for a moment then looked over to the other. His gaze felt so heavy that Doyoung’s arms skin got goosebumps. 

“Imagine being immortal,” the man continued before letting out a dry snicker. 

“Around forever. A pathetic being with no reason to exist besides existence itself. Forever and forever and forever. With no purpose. Until you’d beg someone to kill you but they can’t.” 

Doyoung’s fingers twitched on the cold metal of the terrace rail and for a moment his rational mind wanted to ask that stranger just what nonsense he was talking about. 

But lately, Doyoung and rationality didn’t match well so he didn’t. 

“Immortality sucks only if you’re the only immortal one.” 

The stranger smiled bitterly. “Do you want to be immortal?” 

Doyoung put his hands inside the gown’s pockets. “I’d die tomorrow.” 

“But you wish immortality was a thing.” 

“I mean, I wouldn’t have a job anymore,” Doyoung smiled. “But yes. I wish people didn’t die.” 

“You’re very selfish.” 

That remark made Doyoung frown. “How’s that selfish?” 

The stranger turned around and rested his back on the rail instead. 

“Why do you want people to not die?” 

“Because-,” Doyoung started but didn’t know what to add. “Because it’s painful.” 

“For them or you?” 

Doyoung sighed. “Okay. I see what you’re doing here.” 

The stranger smiled a little. 

“It’s not like I think only of myself when others die. I think how unfair it is when I know they didn’t have the chance to do everything they wanted to do first.” 

“And what’s that?” 

Doyoung thought about it for a moment. “Just- living. Experiences. And most of them actually had enough time to do it. They just took it for granted. And it’s so- painful.” 

“And what about you? If you said that you’d be ready to die tomorrow, I guess you’ve been living your life to the fullest with no regrets.” 

“Actually, I don’t know if I’ve been living all of this time.” 

The stranger shrugged. “Just start now.” 

“You make it seem so easy.” 

“Living? Hell yeah. You just need to give less fucks.” 

Doyoung didn’t reply. 

“If you’re ready to die tomorrow, then you should not be afraid of living.” 

The stranger’s tone deepened and Doyoung looked his way. 

“Who are you by the way?” 

“Oh,” the stranger straightened his back and extended his hand. “I’m Haechan. Nice to meet you.” 

Doyoung imitated him and shook his hand. 

It was warm and in a moment so many thoughts came to Doyoung’s mind to make him breathless. 

"I thought I had my life figured out and yet after meeting you I got shocked into awareness."

"You inspire so much tenderness in me."

“I became obsessed with you and it scares me.”

“You could have just told me. You could have told me that you fell apart. Instead, you acted like it didn't bother you at all.” 

“You are worth the wait.”

“I can't let go of you.” 

Doyoung took away his hand so quickly to almost fall backwards. 

He took a few steps on the concrete of the terrace as if trying to get as far from Haechan as possible. 

“You good?” the other asked but his face wasn’t mirroring his question. 

Instead, a plain expression was adorning his feline features and for an instant, Doyoung felt terror.  

“You’re not Haechan,” he found himself whispering. 

The man in front of him cracked his knuckles once. “And who’s Haechan?” 

“My friend.” 

“Friend? Is someone that uses somebody else a friend?” 

“He’s not using me.” 

“Isn’t he now?” 

The man started to walk towards Doyoung slowly, one finger on the rail, grating at the metal with his nail. 

“Do you believe in soulmates, Doyoung?” 

Doyoung flinched at his name on that man’s lips and started to retreat slowly. 

“I do.” 

“Soulmates are people that always find each other regardless of everything, aren’t they?” 

“Yes.” 

“And are you and Y/N soulmates if Haechan is always there forcing you together like some sort of cheap mismatcher?” the man spit out the last words. 

Doyoung gulped and his brain tried to remember how he punched him in some past life and actually win. His surgeon hands would definitely get broken in a second. 

“Don’t you want to break this cycle? Find your true soulmate?” 

“That’s Y/N.” 

“Because you say so.” 

“I don’t give a fuck about your orthodox theory, Archangel.” 

The man stretched his neck to the side and Doyoung didn't have the time to run away.

[sunnyville36]

Mamihlapinatapai {part 1}

See {overview} for more info!

Pairing: Bang Chan x Female Reader

Themes: royal au, medieval au, court intrigue, arranged marriage, original characters, mutual pining, slow burn

Warnings: mentions of death/war, emotionally abusive parents

Rating: Mature

Word count: 4.2k

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

Mamihlapinatapai - (noun, Yagán origin) a silent acknowledgement and understanding between two people, who are both wishing or thinking the same thing (and are both unwilling to initiate)

Bond  |  Kingdom of Gu, present day

“Good morning, Your Highness,” you called, entering the prince’s room and walking to open the curtains, revealing the cloudless sky behind them.  Of course a beautiful day like today would have to be ruined by the very event you were here to collect Chan for.

Chan’s head peeked out from around the dressing panel, smiling softly as you pressed the shirt he’d clearly been looking for into his hands. “Good morning Y/n.”

“Your father’s in quite the foul mood this morning,” you said, leaving Chan to finish changing as you tidied up his dresser and prepared the many pins and beads bearing the royal crest that would adorn his formal attire for today.

You could hear the scowl in his voice as he grumbled, “Only he could manage to be upset during an event solely orchestrated by him and his insufferable band of so-called advisors.”

You nodded your head, indulging him in his ranting.  Better he get it all out now with only you here to hear than cause a scene in front of the court.  The prince took his responsibilities seriously and hardly ever openly clashed with his father, no matter how much they disagreed.  But this had been an exceedingly upsetting matter for him, and, by extension, you as well.  You’d spent the majority of the last week attempting to keep the peace between him and his father, as well as show your support for your friend as best you could.

Chan stepped out from behind the screen, and you had to stop yourself from doing a double take at the man in front of you.  A far cry from his normal outfit of loose breeches and dirtied, tattered tunics, his cleanly pressed white shirt was tucked neatly into snug fitting black trousers, accentuating his broad shoulders and trim figure.  You were sure he hated the confines of such an ensemble, but you were equally sure he would turn every head in the kingdom during today’s events, and you smiled at having the privilege to see him here first as he struck a nonchalant pose and asked, “So, how do I look?”

“Very handsome,” you replied, stepping up to pin his bright red cloak around his shoulders and set to work attaching the fineries to the outside.

“You do as well.  Look very nice, I mean,” he corrected sheepishly, pose all but forgotten and head tilting forward as a blush formed on his cheeks.

You glanced upward, smoothing his hair that had gotten tousled from his rushed dressing.  “Thank you, Your Highness,” you replied quietly.  You decided to throw in a humorous quip, hoping to lighten his mood as you finished decorating the course, red fabric.  “We couldn’t have the prince’s personal attendant looking like she’d just had a spar with a knight and lost, now could we?”

“Certainly not,” he laughed, then quieted as he continued, “And you’re still wearing the flower.”

You reached your hand absently up to the flower that was perched behind your ear, and you felt his fingertips ghost over yours as he gently pushed your hair to sit behind it.

“Of course, Your Highness.  Is it not our tradition that I wear it until it is completely bare of petals?”

“Mhmm… our tradition,” he hummed, his hand lingering next to your cheek.

“We really must be h-heading out.”  You cringed at the unsteadiness of your voice.  You needed to get out of here, needed to get him out of here.  You straightened the clasps of his cloak and tapped your hands on his chest.

“There.  Now you look like a real prince charming,” you said, forcing a smile to your lips that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

He shook his head as he half chuckled, half grimaced at your words, lips forming into a straight line.  “Then I suppose we must go meet my future wife.”

You Have My Bow  |  Kingdom of Gu, 19 years ago

“Mama, Mama, look what Papa made for me!” you squealed, bounding into your tightly-packed cottage and nearly crashing into your mother’s legs as she stood boiling soup at the stove.

Your father had taken you to the woods that morning, your favorite place to go with him when he had a rare spare moment away from the castle.  You had thought he was taking you for your usual ritual: fishing by the river’s edge in the hopes of catching something to use for dinner.  Instead, when you reached the riverbank, your father knelt down and pulled a tiny child’s bow from his knapsack, small enough to fit in your four-year-old hands.

“I’m going to teach you how to use this bow Y/n.  Not many girls will know how to, but you need to be able to fend for yourself and your mother if anything should ever happen to me.”

“Why would anything happen to you Papa?”

“Well, Papa helps the king to keep our home safe, and there are some people who might want to make it unsafe.”

“Like the Lajorans?  Or the Mirohans?  The ones with the missing princess?!  Or the Sillans?  I heard old man Jerrald talking outside the tavern, and he said Lajorans like to ...”

“Yes, just like those,” your father interrupted your enthusiastic babbling, “though you shouldn’t believe everything old man Jerrald says, alright?”  You nodded as he continued, “The king does everything he can to keep the peace, but sometimes our peoples get into fights.  Really big ones, where people use swords and bows like this.  And I want to make sure that if that ever happens, if one day a fight should come here, that you can keep yourself and your mother safe.  Do you think you could do that for me, Y/n?”

You’d agreed of course, your little body bouncing with excitement as he pulled you in for a hug then took the bow and began to show you the basic principles.  The two of you had spent the rest of the day practicing, and you couldn’t be more excited to show your mother what you’d learned.

“Y/n be careful,” your mother admonished, kneeling down to your height as she gave you a tight squeeze.  “Now let’s see what that father of yours has cooked up for you this time.”

“It’s called a boo!” you all but shouted, whipping the bow out from behind your skirts and drawing back the string in a mock archer’s pose.

“A bow, Y/n, it’s called a bow sweetheart,” came your father’s voice from the doorstep.  He crossed the small space to pull your mother into a tight embrace as he said, “And be careful with that in the house, or your mother will have my head.”  You nodded back at him and he sent you a mischievous wink over her shoulder.

Your mother turned to face him with a wary smile as you started galloping in circles, pretending to ride an imaginary horse.  “Giving our already rambunctious child a deadly weapon, Minhyuk?  You want to get her into trouble, I see.”

“Julietta, you worry too much,” your father whispered, pressing his lips to her temple in a gentle kiss.  “Besides, I’d be more concerned about the trouble she’d be in if she didn’t know how to take care of herself.”

Little did you know that everything you learned that day would soon come crashing into your life, taking many precious things with it when it left.

All That Glitters Is Not Gold  |  Kingdom of Gu, present day

You struggled to keep up as you walked behind Chan, the two of you heading to the throne room where you were sure a very short tempered King Bang would be waiting to reprimand you for your tardiness.  Sure enough, when the guards opened the doors, you saw the king pacing in the small space in front of the raised thones, his head snapping up as he heard your footsteps approach.

“You’re late.  I told you to have him here 20 minutes ago Y/n, did I not?”

“It’s not her fault,” Chan defended.  “Besides, they’re not here yet, are they?”  He gestured around to the otherwise empty hall, save for the usual servants and guards, then slumped into his seat at the right hand of his father’s.

“You would do well to lose that attitude before they do arrive.  I will not have you embarrassing yourself or this court because of your petty feud with me.”  Chan gave a hollow laugh at that, eyes closing to block out the mere presence of his father.

You took your place behind Chan’s throne, hands coming up to rest on the ornately upholstered back.  You liked keeping your hands there; it made you feel like you were supporting Chan in some way, the closest you would ever come to being able to actually hold his hand the way you wanted to right now.

After a few moments, you heard the telltale sound of trumpets and the growing shuffling of a group of approaching footsteps.  Chan straightened in his seat and his father took his place at the head of the room.

The doors opened, and you were greeted by a small party of what appeared to be political ministers and guards, in the middle of whom stood a woman clad in a yellow gown.  She was beautiful, golden hair spun up into a twist and a delicate silver circlet resting above it.  You would know she was a princess from a mile away.

The Gu herald spoke first, gesturing towards the two men seated at the thrones.  “May I present His Majesty, King Bang Geun of the Gu Kingdom and his son, His Royal Highness Bang Christopher Chan, crown prince of the Gu Kingdom.”

The gaggle of people gave a quick bow, then parted to allow the woman through.  She stepped to the front, then dipped into a low curtsey.  “I am Princess Korenna Dormio of Lajor,” she spoke, her high, clear voice ringing in the chamber.  “It is a pleasure to meet you both.”

The king stood up, walking towards Korenna with you and Chan trailing behind.  He took her hand and kissed the top of it, his voice exclaiming in a fake bright tone, “We are honored you could join us in our kingdom!  May I present my son, Christopher.”

Chan stepped forward at that, hand outstretched to take hers.  “I prefer strangers to call me Chan.”

You could feel the icy gaze King Bang was sending to his son, but he pressed on, ever the politician.

“This is Y/n.  She is Chr- err Chan’s personal attendant, and will be at your service during your stay.  Go to her with whatever you may need.”

Korenna eyed you with a curious look, and you knew why.  It was unusual, though not entirely unheard of, for a prince to have a woman as his personal attendant.  Not only did they complete duties for him in the domestic sphere, but they also served a professional purpose, a sort of squire, scheduler, and strategist all in one, roles typically reserved for men.  The unique circumstances surrounding the time of your’s and Chan’s upbringing had made having you as his attendant a logical choice, but you could understand her concern about the man she was supposed to marry spending most of his time in the company of a woman she knew nothing about.

You knelt into a curtsey, head leaning forward as you heard Korenna’s voice.  “A pleasure to meet you Y/n.”

“You as well, Your Grace,” you responded.  Glancing up, you saw that Chan was not even looking in her direction, gaze apparently trained on a fascinating branch just outside the rightmost window.  Well this was off to a wonderful start.

“Very well,” King Bang said tentatively, “I will let you two become acquainted.  Y/n, I believe you were given their itinerary for the day?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

As the king made his way to mingle with the rest of Korenna’s visiting party, Chan turned to the both of you, eyes almost glaring at the princess.

“I don’t want to be here, and I doubt you do either, so let’s just get all of this shit over with so we can go back to our normal lives.”  With that, he stalked towards the door, leaving you and a highly affronted Korenna to follow in his wake.

***

The next few hours only got worse.

The pair were thrust immediately into making a multitude of decisions about the wedding ceremony: What kind of flatware did they want?  Which cakes were their favorite?  How should the shrubbery around the edge of the garden be trimmed?  And all the while you stood between them, relaying information to the various servants charged with these tasks and corralling the two royals between each of their stops.

Your latest one was with the palace groundskeeper, to determine what flowers would adorn the wedding canopy.

“We can always have tulips brought in from the highlands, Your Grace.”

“Tulips are fine, but I was thinking something more along the lines of white roses or lilies.”

Chan’s annoyed huff at her words was impossible to miss.

“Can you at least try to give some input about this?”

“We’ve barely met and they have us making all these asinine decisions about something weeks away!  What do you even care what I have to say about flowers anyway?!”

“I don’t want to fight with you about this.”

“Isn’t that what your people are good at?!  Picking a fight with someone who never asked to be involved in the first place?”

You hated seeing Chan like this.  His normally kind, generous, and thoughtful demeanor, that you knew to be his real self, not just some facade put on to impress the nobles or win ladies’ affections, was being replaced by this antagonistic attitude, intent on ruining any chance of finding common ground with this woman.  You knew he was doing it to protect himself, both from his father’s antics and from his own fear of being open, of letting someone in and risking actually wanting to keep them there.  But under different circumstances, you knew he would never want to be seen treating anyone like he was right now, let alone a princess from another powerful kingdom.  And she didn’t seem to be so bad; if she felt the same malice as he felt towards her, she at least did a better job of hiding it.  You needed to stop him before he did something you knew he would regret.

“Your Highness, I believe Prince Minho wanted to brief you on the latest border patrol, seeing as he is back in the city for the time being.  Why don’t you meet with him while I escort Her Grace to the ladies afternoon tea?”

“A wonderful idea,” Chan muttered unenthusiastically and began walking towards the closest castle door as you guided the princess in the opposite direction.  You looked back and locked eyes with him, reading the expression of thanks on his face.

When you were out of earshot from Chan, Korenna turned to you almost immediately and asked, “Is he always this standoffish?”

You were unsure how to answer that question, wanting to make it clear he wasn’t always like this without getting her hopes up that he would change his attitude about this particular situation any time soon.

“His Highness is not especially fond of this arrangement.  It has nothing to do with you personally, Your Grace.”

“Well I am also not especially fond of this arrangement, but it’s the arrangement we have at present and at least I’m attempting to be civil towards him.”

“Perhaps you should tell him of your similar feelings, to establish some common ground?”

Korenna became agitated at that suggestion, visibly tensing as she said, “And risk my father finding out I feel that way.  Absolutely not.”

You understood that apprehension, that fear.  Stories of her father, King Eunther, had spread often throughout your kingdom, and from what you heard, you knew he was not someone you wanted to cross.

You walked in silence for the rest of the way, until you rounded the corner into the courtyard where you could hear ladies’ voices and the gentle clinking of fine china.  Korenna turned to you, placing her hand on your arm.

“You and him seem to be… close.  Maybe you could talk to him, ask him to try to appear like he doesn’t despise me and everything I do or say?”

You had a feeling that would only make it worse, his oldest friend asking him to grin and bear it for the “good of the kingdom.”  You also knew his political protest against his father might not be the only reason for his general disdain of everything that had happened the past week.  But Korenna seemed like she was genuinely trying to put in some effort, and you couldn’t bring yourself to outright deny her request.

“I will try, Your Grace.”

As you left Korenna in the garden, you reached up to feel for the flower by your ear, and found that all the remaining petals had fallen off.

Arrangements  |  Kingdom of Gu, 1 week ago

“Have you heard anything?  From the staff, about what this announcement might be?”

Chan was walking briskly ahead of you, voice coming out slightly strained.  You knew why; his father calling an unscheduled meeting with the entire court, alluding to some mysterious “announcement,” had everyone on edge, Chan most of all.  The king still kept his son in the dark about the majority of his political proceedings, much to Chan’s frustration and chagrin, and no one but his closest inner circle had any inkling as to what this might be about.

“No, Your Highness. It’s been quiet in the servants’ quarters; everyone is equally surprised.”

“Well, whatever it is, promise to take my side?”

“Have I ever not?”

The two of you entered the throne room, and despite your knowledge of what a full court gathering was, you were still taken aback by the sheer amount of people present.  Every nobleman, every knight, every person who wasn’t otherwise occupied was here, filling the space along the wall and facing the dias at the head of the room where King Bang sat, the empty seats to his right and left standing out amongst the crowded room.  Even Prince Minho, the king’s nephew and second in command of the royal guard after Chan, was back from his post on the Lajoran border.

Whatever this announcement was, it was serious.

Chan approached his seat next to the king as he usually did on occasions like this, but was stopped by his father’s voice.

“Chan, please remain there.  You are the subject of my announcement today.”

You saw Chan’s face pale as he remained in the center of the room.  You were still standing behind him, debating whether or not you should stay beside him or step back to one of the walls where the servants stood.  As you scanned for your mother in the crowd, that question was answered for you.

“Y/n, you too shall stay where you are.  I will have instructions for you as well.”

You bowed your head slightly in acknowledgement of his order, and took your place slightly behind Chan’s left shoulder to await whatever insane proclamation King Bang was about to make.

Nothing could have prepared you for the words that left his mouth.

“Chris, I have made you a wedding match.  You are to be married to Princess Korenna of Lajor in six week’s time.”

The entire room was silent, every person holding their breath to hear what the prince’s reaction would be.  This was not something anyone was expecting, Chan least of all.  It took every ounce of your willpower to school your face into a neutral expression as you tried to contend with the hundreds of thoughts flooding your mind.

Chan was to be married?  To someone from Lajor?  One of Gu’s oldest enemies suddenly wanted to form an alliance, and through marriage?  What would that even entail?  Who would hold what powers?  Why was the ceremony so soon?  Who would be in charge of the preparations?  How would this change your relationship with Chan?

After what felt like hours, but was more likely only several seconds, you heard Chan’s voice echoing one of your thoughts out loud.

“A Lajoran?!  But father, they are responsible for - “

“You need not remind me what they are responsible for, Christopher.”

“Then I don’t understand, how did this come about?!”

You couldn’t stop the low ringing slowly building in your ears, accompanied by a sudden wave of nausea.  You vaguely registered the king’s voice, explaining how King Eunther had approached him, how he agreed “it was time we put that mess behind us,” and how his daughter would be a suitable match for the Gu prince.  Your mind wandered, remembering how many times Chan had told you he never wanted to be used as a pawn in his father’s political games, how he hated the idea of being forced to marry a stranger.  You couldn’t seem to register any other information, thinking solely about Chan, the man you’d known since childhood, your friend, having to be married off to satisfy his father’s need for power.  Finally, a loud voice cut through the fog in your head.

“Y/n, are you listening?  Look at me when I’m talking to you, girl!”

You looked up in surprise to see the king’s unpleasant expression looking down at you.  Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Chan’s pained face turned slightly towards you, waiting to see why his father had kept you in the center of the room as well.

“I apologize, Your Majesty.”

“You will serve Princess Korenna when she arrives for her introductory stay here a week from today.”

You heard a scoff from next to you and glanced to see Chan’s face growing angrier by the second.  “First you lay this on me, now you’re taking away my servant?!  How do you expect me to cope with all of this?”

You sucked in a sharp breath at his words.  You knew he was simply talking in a language his father would understand, explaining how it would be an inconvenience for him to not have someone available at all times of the day, to keep track of his schedule, to clean his clothes, bring him his meals, prepare his horses and armor.  But you couldn’t help the sting of being referred to as a “servant”; surely Chan saw you as more than that, just as you saw him as more than just your future monarch.

“You will manage with half of her normal attention,” the king answered, his tone laced with a hint of irritation at his son’s current attitude.  “Besides, you’ll spend most of your time with Korenna, so she’ll be with the both of you regardless.”

The anger was coming off of Chan in waves, so palpable you felt like you could reach out and touch it.  Finally he set his jaw, facing his father.

“Is that all you had for me?”

“Well that’s all for the matter of the marriage yes but - “

Chan turned on his heel, walking out of the room to the sound of hushed whispers and his father’s increasingly pitiful protests.

You wanted nothing more than to run after him, to pull him into your arms and soothe him, tell him everything would be alright.  But you knew better than to leave, not having been dismissed by the king yet.  So you stood there, heart aching so badly, feeling exposed, like everyone could see the shattered pieces of it that had fallen at your feet.

“I’ll go look for him,” you heard Minho say as he passed by you, the king nodding and waving his hand to dismiss the rest of you.  You heard your mother calling for you but you ignored her, wanting to get out of that stifling room, to go somewhere, anywhere where you could be alone.  You knew where Chan had gone, where he always went when he was upset and needed time to think, but no one bothered to ask you in their search for him.

***

He returned to his room that evening like you knew he would, the door creaking open as you stood across the room ironing his rarely used formal wear with the glass smoother.

His voice came out choked as he whispered, “I’m sorry for what I said.  For referring to you as my servant.”

“It’s alright, Your Highness.  I know you were upset - “

“That’s no excuse.”

Feeling his presence close behind you, you turned to him, reaching for his hand.  “I forgive you.”

He brought his other hand to your cheek, and when you looked up, you saw his eyes staring at you, imploring you to stay, to talk to him.  It was so tempting, the desire to give in, to lean in to him and let him hold you like you knew he wanted.  But you had to be strong, for him and for yourself.  And you knew if you stayed, if you opened up to each other, tried to confront the feelings you knew you still had and could only hope he reciprocated, neither of you would ever recover.  So you took his hand from your face, holding both of his in yours between you as you said, “You should get some rest, Your Highness.”

“Y/n please,” he murmured.

“It is done.  There’s nothing you or I can do.”

He made one last attempt, turning and holding your wrist lightly, but let you go as you pulled away.  Opening the door, you wished him goodnight, desperately trying to hold in your tears as you left.  Your footsteps took you down the hall quickly, but not before you caught the small sound of a sob coming from behind his door.

{part 2}

[dontshootmespence]

Shattered Breaths

Summary: After running into two alphas in the middle of the night, you, an Omega, find yourself falling for the elder Winchester brother, but for reasons unspoken, neither of you will act on it.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 6,312

Warnings: Angst. Lots of angst. Mutual pining. Two morons that won’t admit their feelings for one another. Canon compliant death. ABO dynamics. Smut. P in v with knotting and claiming. Some cockwarming. Some quick and dirty oral sex both ways if you squint. All very desperate.

A/N: For those of you 18 and over! This fulfills my omegaverse square for @spnkinkbingo. There’s a TON of build up and it all goes in order from around the beginning of season 7 to after Dean returns from Purgatory.

Beta’d by: The always lovely @stusbunker​. Cannot thank you enough! <3

Blood pulsed quickly through your veins as you ran through the desolate forest, low growls from behind pushing you forward at breakneck speed despite the fact that your muscles were on fire. So tired. You were so tired of this.

Moonlight streamed through the trees, lighting a sliver of a path between them that you took without hesitation. Each thud of your feet against the cold ground sent shockwaves through your body, muscles threatening to tear themselves from your bones. 

As the growling got closer, you felt a shiver run up your spine and prayed to anyone that was listening to give you a reprieve. Trees surrounded you, light barely hitting your sweat-slick skin through the canopy overhead. 

After locking yourself inside for days on end, you ventured outside to feel the sun on your skin. You knew you could be tracked by alphas, especially during your heat, but after days spent underground in an abandoned house, you’d been desperate - and sloppy. 

Glancing behind you, you saw a glint of the alpha werewolves’ eyes and pushed your body as hard as you were physically able, running straight into the arms of a tall, well-built man. “Where is it?” He asked, his hands wrapping around your wrists to steady you. 

“Them, there’s two of them!” You whispered.

“Stay between me and my brother.” Turning around, you saw an even taller man with his gun drawn and sandwiched yourselves between them. 

For a moment, the forest stood still, breath catching in the air as your eyes darted all around. Seemingly out of nowhere, one of the alphas that had been chasing you swiped at the taller of the two brothers, knocking him down and leaving you vulnerable. Turning, you saw the man you’d run into get tackled to the ground by the other alpha.

A gunshot went off, piercing the werewolf in the heart before it collapsed on top of the shorter brother. Quickly, both of you turned your attention to the other man, who was still pinned to the ground, fighting off swipe after swipe of the werewolf’s piercing claws. 

Before you could run to help him, the other man rushed past you, screaming his brother’s name.“Sam!” 

But the moment he made contact with the werewolf, the unnamed man was thrown backward into a tree.

These men had stopped to help you. You couldn’t turn away now. As your fangs descended, a chest-deep growl emanated from within you, talking the alpha off guard long enough for you to get him away from Sam. 

“Now you stand and fight? You stupid, omega bitch.” 

He pinned you up against a tree and ran his nose up the side of your neck, inhaling your scent. You felt your claws extend from your fingertips but before you could do anything the unidentified man called for him. “Hey!”

The minute the werewolf’s attention was diverted, the man fired a shot that landed directly between your assailant’s eyes. 

When he fell to the floor, you heard Sam call for his brother, Dean, who immediately ran toward him to make sure he was okay. Both had a few nicks and bruises, but they would survive. As soon as they assured the other was safe, their attention turned to you. 

“Stay away!” You growled, more for their benefit than yours. “I need a minute.”

They both held their hands up and tried to impress upon you that they weren’t about to hurt you. They’d stopped to help and put themselves in great danger to do so, so you trusted them, but you didn’t trust yourself. Whenever you let yourself tap into the feral side of yourself, you needed time to come down.

“You’re pretty tough for an omega,” Dean said, injecting a little levity into his voice. 

Eyes closed, you took deep breaths and noted the lightness in his tone. 

“When you’ve been on your own since you presented at 16, you kind of have no other choice.” With each breath, you managed to slow your heart rate and finally felt your claws retract. “You’re hunters.”

Sam nodded and stepped forward, catching you as your shaky legs gave way underneath you. “We are. You okay?”

“I will be. Thank you, Sam. Dean, thank you.”

The brothers guided you out of the forest and toward their car. “Nice ride,” you said, impressed. 

“This is my Baby,” Dean replied.

Sam rolled his eyes and laughed, opening the door for you. “Can we give you a ride somewhere?”

“We’re definitely giving you a ride somewhere,” Dean echoed. “I’m not about to leave an in-heat Omega out in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night.”

“Much appreciated, boys. But I’ve got nowhere to go.” More than 15 years had passed since you’d had a place to call home. 

“We don’t either.” Sam shrugged. “We travel all over to hunt. You have any money?”

Shaking your head, you retreated into yourself, realizing for the first time since you ran that you were well and truly fucked. “No, actually. I did. But I ran as soon as the werewolves spotted me.” 

Dean shot you a pitiful look. “Why don’t you stay with us?”

Running from two alphas into the arms of two others? Was that wise? Probably not. But you’d never been one for the wise. At least they were human, and hunters.

                                                          -------

Shortly after joining Sam and Dean on their continuous cross-country trek, you had to distance yourself from them, if only by a few motel rooms; your heat had triggered their ruts. Even though they were both amazing looking guys, you weren’t about to jeopardize your newfound camaraderie by begging one of them to fuck you senseless. No matter how good looking they were. Out of pure need to not screw up the first home you’d ever had, you made a habit of keeping to yourself during your heats and asked them to do the same whenever biology kicked into overdrive.

They taught you everything they knew. You’d come across werewolves and vamps, but that was about it, and there was so much more to this big scary world than you’d originally thought. Leviathans were apparently a thing, and they couldn’t die. At least they hadn’t figured out a way yet. Whenever the boys thought they’d killed one, the same one showed their ugly face again. None of their usual methods worked, so that was fun.

Sam schooled you on the lore, loading you up with facts about any and every creature he knew of whenever he could, much to Dean’s feigned dismay; you could tell in his eyes how proud he was of his brother. He also taught you self defense, which was harder than you thought. Sure, you’d defended yourself a thousand times before but that had been feral swiping and growling and hoping for the best, mixed with a healthy dose of luck. Sam was able to refine your ferocity into swift and pointed movements. After a while, you could even defend yourself against Sam.

Dean, on the other hand, taught you how to handle a knife and how to shoot. For some reason, learning to handle the knife had been easy, but shooting was another story all together. “This is fucking hopeless,” you muttered as your arm fell to your side in defeat.

“A’right, ‘mega,” he said, gathering his arms around you, his hands splaying over your own. A delicious shiver crawled up your spine at the sound of your nickname rolling off his tongue. Only Dean called you Omega; Sam just used your name. 

“Relax your shoulders,” he said, his deep, gravely voice rolling through you. It’s a good thing you weren’t in heat, you thought to yourself as you swallowed hard, because not jumping his bones was hard enough under the best of circumstances. “You want to keep your arms extended, but not locked.”

“K, Alpha. Now what? Because I suck at this.” 

He chuckled at your back and placed his hands on your hips, moving you into a good standing position. “Like this.” He tapped your leg with his left hand. He was

making this easy.

“Fake it ‘til you make it,” he continued, sending your mind in a completely different direction than the one he intended. Which really wasn’t all that hard to do considering your mind was in the gutter already. 

“You make it sound so simple,” you huffed. “You’ve been doing this since you were practically in diapers.” You lost yourself in the thought for a moment; he deserved so much more than that.

“You want to pretend that you know exactly what you’re doing, because it’ll feel more natural, and when it feels more natural, you’re in the better position to hit your target. Pick one.”

Picking one of his empty whiskey bottles that he’d placed in the middle of the area ahead, you leaned forward slightly. 

“What made you lean forward?” He asked.

“I don’t know. Instinct, I guess? I figure my body should be pitched forward a little bit to counteract the kick of the gun.”

“See, you’re a fuckin natural,” Dean said proudly. “Grab the grip tight and aim.”

When he let go of your arms, you felt cold and off your game again. You didn’t like to admit how much he steadied you. Something about Dean was comforting, like that first sip of whiskey - warm and inviting. You wavered and his arms returned to where they were. 

“You’re questioning your aim,” he said softly. “You had it. Have faith in yourself and follow through on your target.” Stepping back, he pulled out his other gun and hit the furthest bottle back without any problem. 

With a deep breath, you playfully growled at him, frustrated at how good he was and how good he looked doing it. “So all I need to do is fake it?”

“Yup. Keep in mind everything I just said, and fake it. Don’t go for the one in the back, go for that one,” he replied, pointing to a dark blue bottle toward the front, maybe 15 to 20 feet away from you. 

Turning your attention back toward the bottles, you shook out your nerves, breathed in through your nose, out through your mouth, and applied steady pressure on the trigger, feeling a bit of kickback as the bottle shattered into a thousand pieces. 

“See!” Dean said, smiling wide. “I told you!”

You put the gun down and danced around. Sure, you needed consistency, but at least you were making progress. “Now I just have to get my own gun. One similar to this. Because I don’t wanna get used to this and then have to handle something else entirely.”

Dean swallowed hard and picked the gun up, letting it slip through his fingers effortlessly as the grip was turned toward you. “Take this.”

“Dean, this is your gun. Your trusty gun. I couldn’t.” Besides Sam, Cas and Baby, this gun had to be one of the constants in his life.

Gripping the barrel firmly, he extended it toward you again. “Take this one.”

“Exactly, it’s never failed me. And if I can’t be there, it won’t fail you either.” His strong hand glided over yours and opened your palm before laying the gun down. “Besides Sam and Cas, you’re all I’ve got, ‘Mega.”

Pride gave way to sadness before her eyes. She could see the cogs turning, wanting to know more than anything what made him tick. When he closed the gap between you, you leaned into his embrace and closed your eyes as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

                                                          -------

“You okay?”

With a strained laugh, you grabbed Dean by the wrist and pushed him into the motel room. “Me? Am I okay? Dean, what the hell were you thinking?”

If he wasn’t already in pain you’d kick the ever-living shit out of him. As it was, you were about to rip him a new asshole. 

“He was -” 

“Sam, shut up!” You snapped before turning to Dean, whose mouth you knew was open despite having your back turned to him. “And you! Don’t even! I had that werewolf no problem, and because you had to come out and be Mr. Hero and shove me out of the way, you got hurt.”

Your heart was racing a mile a minute. When the wolf’s claws had slashed through the fabric of Dean’s henley and the skin underneath, your heart nearly stopped. His scream of agony still echoed through your head. 

“Sam, are you okay?” You asked, peeling back the blood-stained material of Dean’s shirt. Thankfully, the marks weren’t too deep, but he still scared you half to death.

“Yea, I’m fine. There anything I can do?”

“No, I’ve got this,” you replied. “We have no food and he’s not about to go grab a meal like this though.”

Sam nodded in understanding and ducked out of the motel room quickly. You made a mental note to apologize for snapping at him.

“Can I talk?” Dean asked, testing where you were on the anger scale. 

Huffing, you poured some alcohol onto a rag to clean out his wounds. “Depends. You plan on making excuses for getting yourself hurt? Or do you plan on apologizing? Because I’ll only accept one of those as a reason to open your mouth.”

With pursed lips, he mumbled. “You’re a little bossy, Omega.”

“Get used to it. What the hell were you thinking?” Crouching before him, you wiped his wounds clean as he hissed at the pain. 

Dean’s hand slipped underneath your chin, tipping your head up so you’d look at him. “I saw you when we first met; scared. I saw your death flash before my eyes, so I jumped without thinking.” 

His thumb caressed the side of your cheek. Your instinct was to lean into it, but you were so angry with him. “Fuckin’ hell, Dean. That’s the problem. Fucking think!”

He flinched at your outburst. You were so mad. But it was more than that. “Dean, I’m scared every time we go out. I’m scared of monsters. I’m scared of alphas that don’t know how to take no for an answer. I’m always scared. But I do shit anyway because it’s either do something or die and I really don’t feel like dying. D’ya know what scares me more than anything though?”

When he shook his head, you tried to speak, but felt the words catch in your throat. Your lip began to tremble, all of the fear and adrenaline finally steadying out. “Losing you.”

Swallowing back the bile rising in your throat, you continued. “I ran from my father, an abusive alpha. I was so afraid of being hurt again that I stayed away from anyone and everyone. Until I ran into you. Even when I lived with my father, I never really had a home. And now I do,” you said softly, a tear falling down your cheek. “Do you know what it would do to me to lose you? Not only to lose you, but realize I lost you because of me?”

“I don’t wanna die, but if I die protecting you; I’ll consider it a good death,” he replied. “But I’m sorry. I should’ve trusted you to handle it. Because you could’ve and you were going to. I just...I wasn’t thinking.”

Letting go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you bandaged up Dean’s wounds and sat on the crappy motel bed beside him. “Start thinking,” you commanded, your hand cradling the back of his neck. 

Without any thought for the consequences or the implications, you pressed your lips to his, memorizing the scent of musk and evergreen that floated off his body. He smelled like home. Wherever he was, you were home. “Please, start thinking. Don’t make me lose you, Alpha.”

Dean nuzzled his forehead into yours and whispered. “I’m sorry, ‘Mega.”

                                                          -------

Whenever you weren’t hunting or isolating yourselves during heats and ruts, you, Dean and Sam indulged in cheap booze, cheaper food and bad movies. “If I don’t get food, I might kill one of you.”

Dean popped up from his seat like he’d just been yelled at and forced to go to his room. “I’ll grab some then,” he laughed, an easy-going smile dancing across his face. 

Smiling excitedly, you clasped your hands together and brought them up by the side of your face. “Bacon cheeseburger and fries, please. And pie?”

“What kind?”

“Whatever you get.”

“What makes you think I’m getting pie?”

“Your name is Dean.”

“Touche, ‘Mega,” he said with a laugh. Sam ordered a wildly boring salad with a fruit cup for dessert. You could swear it actually pained Dean to hear such an order. “I’ll be back in 30.”

As he closed the door, you ran into the bathroom and changed into your pajamas before picking out your movie for the night on one of the on-demand channels. “This cool, Sam? The Gingerbread Man starring Gary Busey.”

Looking up, he nodded quickly, clearly not registering what you’d just said, as you were sure he’d have some snarky remark. “Yea, that’s fine by me. Y/N, can I ask you a question?”

You bristled at the frankness in his voice. “Sure, Sam. What is it?”

A little chuckle put you more at ease as he spoke. “Why don’t you and Dean just fuck already?”

A very undignified snort escaped you. It made no sense to try and dissuade him of his opinion. It was obvious you and Dean liked each other, wanted each other. “It’s too complicated, Sam.”

He shot you an ‘are-you-serious’ look, which spurred you on. “Dean wouldn’t want a needy Omega at home that he felt beholden too. Plus, I’m not just gonna sit home and raise pups, as much as I’d like them. I need an identity outside of that. And that would come with it’s own host of issues, because I’m assuming he would be ‘just a tad’ overprotective. And-”

“As opposed to how he already is,” Sam interjected, leaning forward to place his head in his propped up hands. “But go on.”

“Don’t be a smartass, Sam. What we have here is good. The three of us. I have a home. If something were to fuck that up by, like oh, I don’t know, fucking Dean and it not working out? I would lose the only home I’ve ever really known. As much as I love Dean, and you know I do, I’m too afraid to risk it.”

Sam looked at you sadly, hoping that maybe you’d all met in a different life. “I understand that. More than you know.”

A comfortable silence hung between you for a moment, and you thought that was the end of it. “Dean loves you, too, you know? If anyone could get my brother to settle down and have pups, it’d be you. Yea, he’d be an overprotective pain-in-the-ass, but he knows he can’t control you. I’m not saying you have to say anything to him. But I think you should. I think you guys are more on the same page than you think.”

For a moment, you allowed yourself to drift off into thoughts of what a life with Dean might be like. Kickass hunters with a family of pups to raise. Happy. Together. It made your heart swell, but then you saw the picture shatter before your eyes and the realization hit you like a truck. The reason you were too afraid to pursue things with Dean wasn’t because it could screw up the home you’d managed to find. In this life, a hunter’s life, you rarely got a happy ending, and if you lost Dean after being claimed by him? The man you loved more than anything?

There would be no coming back from that.

You’d shatter.

------

After your brief fast food, crappy B-movie respite, you finally formulated a decent enough plan to kill Dick Roman. If by formulated, you mean Sam and Dean trusting Crowley, relying on the new and improved bee-loving Castiel, all while watching the boys crumble at the loss of Bobby for a second time, then yes, a plan had been formulated. “This is so, so very stupid,” you muttered. “A bone from a righteous nun bathed in the blood of an angel, head Daddy vamp, and possibly Crowley if he didn’t fuck us royally, and we’re about to walk right in.”

“You got a better idea?” Dean asked. 

“Not a one. Ready to go?”

“That’s my girl.”

Speeding down the highway, you chuckled to yourself at the stupidity of this. Dean, Sam, Cas, Ghost Bobby, even Meg had said you could sit this one out, but you weren’t about to let the boys go in by themselves. Maybe you couldn’t do anything that they wouldn’t have already tried. But if they were gonna die, you were gonna bite the bullet with them. You wouldn’t be left alone again.

You split up into teams of two. Dean needed Cas to identify the real, fake Dick, which left you and Sam to search for Kevin and get the hell out of there, all while using Meg as a distraction. Each footstep felt like a bomb going off underneath your feet; you were bound to get caught. But as you snuck through hallway after sanitized, boring-ass hallway, picking the locks of every door in your wake, you finally found Kevin. Who, of course, had to throw another wrench in the already shaky, we’re-absolutely-gonna-get-ourselves-killed plan. 

“We have to blow up the lab,” Kevin said desperately, looking every inch a scared child making the decisions of a man.

More than anything, you and Sam wanted to get him out, but you knew he was right. With enough Borax on you to clean the entirety of insert-large-monument-of--choice-here, you doused every leviathan in your path before finally making it to the lab in one piece, if slightly covered in leviathan goo.

With the traps set, you began the search for Dean, Cas and Dick, only to find the head leviathan with the bone sticking through his throat. A wretched sound emanated from the slimy creature’s throat before his limbs began to twitch. “We need to go!” You screamed over the shockwaves building in the small room. “Guys, we have to go now!”

But before they had even taken a step, Dick Roman exploded, flinging his remnants all over the room, and when you could finally see again, Cas and Dean were gone. Sam spun toward you, eyes darting around the room, mouth agape.

“Where are they? You cried, grasping Sam’s jacket in your hands. “What happened to them?”

“I-I-”

“Hello, Sam. Y/N,” Crowley touted upon his entrance.

Sam held you back as you lunged toward the demon without a care for what he might do to you. “What happened to Dean? Where is Cas?”

With a click of his fingers, two of his henchmen had Kevin in their grasp. And with the next, they were gone.

“That bone had a bit of a kick,” he replied with a sickly smug smile on his face. “God weapons often do. Looks like you two are well and truly alone.”

Another snap and Crowley was gone. 

Dean was gone.

“We have to find Dean,” you said meekly, numbness lapping at your toes like a wave on the shore. 

Off in the distance, other Leviathan approached. 

“We have to get out of here,” Sam said. 

But you couldn’t move. Your limbs were heavy with exhaustion and a black hole of despair that was devouring you from the inside out. “We have to find Dean,” you whispered.

“We have to go!” Sam picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. 

In your grief, you tried to fight him off - you begged him to put you down and go find Dean and Cas, but he refused. “I’m not leaving!” You punched his back with your fist with every ounce of strength you had, screaming until your throat hurt.

“I’m not letting you die, too,” he said, voice ragged as he carried you through the hallways.

“Die too.” The words rolled through your mind like a bullet. “He’s not dead. He’s not dead. He’s not dead.”

Sam threw you into the Impala and slipped the key into the starter, panicking when the engine sputtered to life. As it finally kicked into drive, the monstrous squealing of the Impala’s damaged engine was drowned out by the screech of your anguished cries.

-----

You were caged. 

Within these walls. Within this world. Within your skin.

As you trembled, the overwhelming ache between your thighs spread outward to your entire body. You sobbed into the mattress. After losing Dean, you’d done anything and everything you could think of to find him, but to no avail. And then your heat hit. 

Despite the medication that Sam had found to help you through them, the stress and desolate sadness somehow made this heat even worse. Pain overwhelmed you, every nerve on fire, boiling like lava. You tried everything to alleviate the pain, even touching yourself in the hopes that an orgasm would lessen the effects, but it did nothing physically, leaving you emotionally worse for the wear. 

When your hands slipped across your sweat-slick, nerve-wracked skin you thought of Dean. The way he made you laugh. The way he smiled when he watched terrible horror movies. The way his green eyes saw through your tough exterior into the softness beneath. The way his muscled arms gathered around you, allowing you to find a home in the most unlikely of places. In that moment, there was a brief respite, your heart lightening every so slightly at the thought of home, only to be jerked back to reality when you realized he was gone. All you wanted was for the pain to subside. To feel okay again.

A heavy knock on the motel room door alerted you to Sam’s presence. “Y/N, it’s me. I have more medication and some food for you.” 

Grunting in agony, you called for him to come in, noticing the softness in his eyes as he touched your head with the back of his hand. ‘I’m fine, Sam. You can just leave the stuff on the table.”

“You’re burning up,” he said, running to the bathroom to grab some water so that you could take your pills.

He placed the pills into your quaking hands and watched you take them, your eyes numb and forward-facing. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“I can’t do this,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. 

“What?”

“The pain!” You snapped through clenched teeth. “It’s even worse now, I can’t, I-” Lifting your head, you saw the sorrow in your soul reflected in his eyes. “Sam, help me. Please.”

He knew what you were asking and he shook his head, standing up quickly from his place at your side and pacing across the room. “No, Y/N, I can’t.”

With every ounce of strength you had, you crawled to the end of the bed, begging. “Sam, this pain is overwhelming. I don’t trust anyone else, and I can’t do this anymore. I trust you. Please, Sam. Please.”

You gasped as Sam wrapped his arms around you, his cock straining against his jeans. 

“You’re Dean’s,” he said matter-of-factly, almost more for himself than for you. “I can’t.”

“I’m sorry,” you said as you sobbed into his chest. You repeat yourself over and over again, hoping it would absolve you of the overwhelming guilt that blanketed you - mind, body and soul. 

----

After you threw yourself at Sam, he started distancing himself. Of course he came to check on you multiple times a week, he helped you find a legitimate job, ensured you had enough food and money and medication to survive your heightened heats, but that was it. Whether it was because of what you’d done or how he felt about you, you weren’t sure. You hadn’t the strength or desire to ask, figuring it didn’t truly matter either way. 

Each day was an exercise in strength, with you going through the motions despite the desire to let go. A year passed.

Then one morning, you woke up with the knowledge that your heat was, in fact, here again. Even though it continued to come every three months as it always had, you could swear you were constantly in the throes of it. Your body hurt, muscles heavy, nerves always on fire to some degree. It never ended. Nor did your thoughts of Dean. Essentially, you remained because you were too scared to die. That and hope. There was a sliver of it still lingering, even though its presence tore you to shreds day in and day out. 

At your desk job, you clamped your legs together, wishing that someone out there could satiate your hunger. The medication had done a bit to tamp down your physical pain, enough where you could work without much interruption, but the sexual aspect of your heat still remained in full force. 

You made it through another day and began to walk back to your motel room, but it was just a room. Home had evaporated when Dean had been taken from you. As you walked down the street, passing playing children and the occasional speeding car, you inhaled the cool air in the hopes that it would refresh you - bring you back to the land of the living - only to be hit with the scent of musk and evergreen.

A warmth spread over you and a smile returned to your face for the first time in months. It smelled so much like Dean, like being wrapped in his arms all those years ago when he first taught you how to shoot. The feeling of peace quickly left you and you cursed the gods for their inequity, tears running down your cheeks as you stormed through your motel room door. 

Collapsing into the bed, you pulled the matted pillow toward your head and sunk into the overly-used mattress, praying that the memory of the scent would stop torturing you when you awoke next. 

-----

Hours later, as the sun began to set, varying hues of pink and orange dabbling the dusky sky, you woke to the comforting yet torturing scent. But you were all cried out and instead attempted to move through it, as you had with most things for the past year. 

A knock on the door startled you. For a moment, you contemplated not answering. You really weren’t in the mood to talk to Sam right now. You’d text him later to let him know you were okay. With another thud, you swung the door open, ready to yell. “Dean?” You cracked. “Am I alive? Did I die in my sleep?”

Tired eyes smiled at you, happiness overtaking the misery that had filled them for so long. “You’re alive. It’s me, ‘Mega.”

“How?” 

“Do you really want to know right now?”

With a disbelieving chuckle, you replied. “No.” 

Reaching out, you grabbed him by the collar of his t-shirt and pulled him toward you, lips hungrily finding his without hesitation or thought. He sunk into your kiss, practically collapsing into you as he crossed the threshold into the room and kicked the door closed behind him. “‘Mega, I need you.”

In an instant, you were home again, arching into his hurried kisses. Frantic hands grabbed at the hem of your t-shirt and slipped it over your head before snaking his fingers underneath the straps of your bra. 

“You have me, Alpha.”

You jumped into his embrace and wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling at the material of his shirt like someone starved of all sustenance. When your fingers found his muscled chest, you moaned at the feel of him underneath your fingertips. He’d been gone for more than a year, but here he was, in the flesh; he was real. 

Dean walked you toward the bed and tripped into it, falling onto the mattress with you pinned beneath him. He let out a breathy laugh and collapsed into the side of the bed, kneeling before you as he peeled your pants and panties down your legs and threw them to the floor. “You were my last thought before closing my eyes,” he said, biting and sucking patches on your inner thighs. “My first thought in the morning. You kept me going, ‘Mega.”

Whining, you bucked up into his mouth and grasped his hair, pulling him closer to your heated sex. With every swipe of his tongue up your slit, you felt yourself melt into his embrace - a stillness overcoming you despite your desperation for his touch. “Alpha,” you breathed.

You shimmied yourself off the bed before him. “Need your knot. Need to taste you.” 

“Oh fuck,” he choked out as you licked your lips and slipped them over his swollen cock. “‘Mega, ‘M, not-” He braced himself, his grip white-hot against the sheets as he towered over you.

“Don’t care.” You hastily tugged his jeans and boxers down just far enough to grab his cock. Hungrily, you slid your hands up and down in tandem with your mouth. Each pass left trails of spit dripping down your chin and onto the floor. But you didn’t care. Looking up, you saw Dean at peace for the first time in years, mouth agape, muscles taut, unthinking. 

When you moaned around his length and reached your hand between your legs, he couldn’t take it anymore. He lifted you up onto the bed and crawled up the length of your body, laying hungry open-mouthed kisses along your pliant flesh as he kicked off the remainder of his clothing. You managed to lift your head to find his mouth again, whimpering at the sight of the dark flesh of his knot. How he came back, what he did when he was gone, what you’d gone through in his absence, none of it mattered - not when it came down to it. He was yours and you were his, scars and all. 

Climbing onto the bed, he moved your head toward the headboard and up against the pillow, placing his cock at your entrance before effortlessly slipping inside. 

“Fuck, Alpha. I need you. Need you to knot me.”

Dean chokes out an incoherent word or two, groaning as he hastily slides his hand into your hair. Teeth scrape along the side of your neck as he pumps into you, his knot swelling with each thrust. There’s no grace in either of your movements as he fucks into you, bucking into each other as if your lives depend on it. 

As his knot rolled into you, connecting you both, you cried out and bit down on his shoulder, only to scream out again when his teeth found a spot on your neck just below your ear. Whenever you’d heard of omegas and their alphas before, about the connection between them and the wholeness they felt being claimed, you’d never understood it - but you did now. 

Every atom in your body felt connected with his. It was deeper than anything you’d ever felt before. “Alpha!” You cried into his waiting mouth. 

Thick, hot streams of come filled your insides as he trembled above you, lips finding yours in a desperate attempt to make this last forever. To stay in this moment.

When his eyes found yours, he let out a strangled laugh, thumb rubbing over the spot where he’d claimed you. “‘Mega, I’m not the same man I was.” Already, he was trying to run. But you wouldn’t allow it.

“I know,” you said softly before kissing his forehead. “We’ll figure it out, okay? Where were you? What happened?”

He fell to your side and gathered you close, slipping himself back into your slick heat, needing the closeness. To stay here for just a moment more. Relaxing your head against his chest, you listened as he told you what happened after Dick Roman’s death. Strained words and shattered breaths made you realize he wasn’t telling the whole truth, but he was saying what he could, and for now, that was enough.

Purgatory. He was in Purgatory. Surrounded by monsters every day.

“Thing is…” He started, trailing off almost immediately.

“What is it?” You asked, clenching your walls around his cock. Anything to take his mind off the horrors he’d witnessed. “Dean, you can tell me.”

“Thing is, there was a peace in it. Fighting day in and day out. The routine of it. I-I liked it. The killing. What does that make me?” 

You tipped your head up to kiss the underside of his chin, finding the salty taste of his tears. “It makes you human. It makes you a hunter, Alpha.” Dean dipped his head to kiss the mark he’d given you, massaging your breasts as you spoke. “There is something I want you to know though.”

“What is it?” He asked. 

“After you died, I thought you were gone forever. And the stress of it all made my heats so much worse than they ever had been. And I-” You broke, a sob bubbling in your throat.

“It’s okay, ‘Mega. I promise, it’s okay.”

“Nothing happened between us, but I threw myself at Sam. It’s been eating at me ever since it happened. I love Sam, but I love him like my brother and I never wanted it to happen. He turned me down, because I’ve always been yours,” you said quickly, trying to get it all out and breathe at the same time. “I was just so desperate and so alone and-” 

Grasping your chin, Dean turned your head toward his and cut you off with a searing kiss. “We have some guilt to deal with, I guess,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. He slid his hands down your arms, fingers entwined with yours. “Together?”

Whisper soft, you replied. “Together.”

[mrsparknamjoon]

02. family matters | reliability • kth

previous | index | next

pairing: taehyung x reader word count: 2.155 genre: drama, light angst rating: pg-13 warnings: none au: ceo/office trope: enemies to friends to lovers tags: ceo!taehyung, office!au, best friend!yoongi, unresolved emotional tension, mutual pining, slow burn crosspost: ao3

summary: let’s go back a few years to see how tae and Y/N’s relationship started and also get a glimpse into the kim family

A/N: it was important for me to start the series with a flasback so that the reader would be familiar with the kim family dynamics and the tension with Y/N right off the bat

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10 years before

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“There has to be someone else” I said, staring at the Seoul skyline in front of me as I pondered all the possibilities with hands in my pockets. I'm taking over the family business and the only thing that scares me is making a mistake when hiring people. Well, my dad scares me, and getting a complaint call from him questioning how I managed to ruin Vante Enterprises in less than 6 months of his long-awaited retirement is not in my plans.

“Why?” asked the woman sitting on the large and comfortable couch behind me. Her thin face and dark hair complemented her porcelain skin very well and she was, at all times, the most beautiful person in any room.

“She’s inadequate” I replied, making her roll her eyes.

“Nonsense, Tae Hyung. Y/N graduated at the top of her class, in front of you much less, and did an MBA abroad” the woman said nonchalantly while taking a sip of her tea.

“I meant in regards to the company's culture” I sat down next to her, leaning sideways on the back of the couch and resting my head on my hand.

“Oh right” she set the cup down on the coffee table, “I forgot that you Kims only hire who you can control”

“Mom!”

“Honey, this is your opportunity to differentiate yourself from your father” she continued, “Having someone you know in a position like this is important in the long run”

At least in one thing my mom and I could agree on: I would, without a doubt, run the company in a new way. I had already started by choosing people who were suitable for the positions and not because I knew them or my family had some kind of connection with theirs. If, by chance, these two factors intersected, great, otherwise, the best resume wins.

“Known is not the same as reliable” I observed.

Still not satisfied with my answer, my mom got philosophical. “Trust comes with time” she started in a tone as if she wanted to pass for a spiritual being of great wisdom, but I knew she was just trying to be a good mom despite not knowing the exact details of what the family business required.

“I still have six more resumes appointed by someone I know” I leaned over to the coffee table and picked up the papers. “Two of them are former classmates too. How about that?” I waved them back and forth.

“If I remember correctly, neither of them made you stutter for the first time in an academic debate” my mom made a pose like she was thinking, crossing her arms and bringing one hand to her chin. How dramatic... and a liar. I didn't stutter.

“Yup, I think it's time for you to go” I exhaled, slapping my hands on my thighs and standing up. “Thank you very much for coming and giving your input on a subject I did not ask for” I continued in an amusing tone, but low-key serious, taking her by the hand and guiding her towards the door.

“Tae Hyung, you know that Y/N is the right choice” she moved the bag handle over her shoulder. “Be smart” and caressed my face.

“Okay” I sighed, “I love you” and kissed her forehead.

“I love you too” she smirked and left.

I went back to the couch and grabbed the resumes intending to read them one more time to be absolutely sure that I had not missed any relevant information. Very conveniently the first one was Y/N’s.

“She did it on purpose” I thought out loud when I realized my mom had deliberately put it there so I couldn't ignore it. 

Very well then, I started reading Y/N’s resume with legitimate attention, trying to ignore the name and photo at the top. I needed to be objective and impartial, a lot was at stake, but to be completely honest, at first, it was difficult because she has some striking physical features, which most men would find attractive but that was not my case. And even if it was, her personality overshadowed everything else to the point of making me lose any interest. After my common sense settled in, I continued reading, paying close attention to her previous work experiences.

“Hmm, this is interesting” I mumbled to myself.

Unlike the other candidates, Y/N had interned at one of the largest financial institutions in the country during college - something I had no idea, by the way, but not that we were friends back then, of course, because why would she tell me something like that? I really had no way of knowing - and I'm looking for people with experience in acquisitions. Convenient coincidence, I like it.

Moving on, I analyzed two letters of recommendation along with her resume and I must agree that on paper she is the right person. Damn it, I hate it when my mom is right! Still, the matter of company culture is real and I think that a person like her wouldn’t do well here. She is opinionated, impulsive, and hates being told ‘no’. At the same time, she was praised for the exact opposite in the letters, and that made me curious. An interview wouldn't hurt, would it?

I got up, went over to my desk, and pressed the button that put me in direct contact with the secretary.

“Yes, Mr. Kim?” Eun Ae answered promptly.

“I need to schedule some interviews next week” I said while fiddling through the resumes and selecting three, “I’ll email you the information”

“Yes, sir”

“Ah, Mrs. Gwa?” I almost forgot. It was better to hide my identity, otherwise, they’ll try sucking up to me thinking it would affect my final decision. And by 'they' I mean two of the three people because Y/N most likely wouldn't even accept the invitation if she knew that I was in charge of the company. “When contacting the candidates, I ask you not to divulge that I'll be the one conducting the interview”

“Okay” she wrote down and I could hear the sound of her keyboard. “Anything else?”

“No, that's all. Thank you”

Between today and the day of the interview, I had to prepare myself for the different reactions I might receive. My position as CEO has not yet been announced in the media and only shareholders know that a new person will take over at the end of the year. They suspect it will be my older brother, or rather, they expect it to be him but to the general dismay it will be me.

Ye Jun is a lawyer and has been involved in the family business since he started reading. However, two years ago in the middle of Christmas dinner, he had a breakdown when my uncles pressured him about some specific problem happening inside the company and he totally lost his composure (with a little help from alcohol, of course). He made a scene screaming that he didn't want that life anymore or even see any of those people again. Then he went on about how much he hated their meetings and the way everyone was fake in front of my father and in private would even criticize the color of the tie he wore. From the corner of the living room, I watched the whole thing go down without a hint of shock on my face because I always knew that moment would come. Ye Jun wasn’t born to be a leader.

The next day, he and my father were locked in the office for almost three hours. When the heavy wooden doors finally opened, dad left looking tired and announced without looking me in the eye, “Now it's up to you, Tae Hyung.” Confused by that statement, I went in and saw Ye Jun with his head between his hands, sitting in the armchair by the window.

“What the hell did you say to him?” I pointed my thumb back at the door.

“That I’m not doing it” Ye Jun replied, lifting his head and interlacing his hands. His posture seemed relaxed as if he were finally comfortable, although there was an uncertainty in his eyes that made me wonder if he was having second thoughts about the decision.

“Do what?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

Ye Jun looked at me and smiled.

“Give in to the pressure, complying with expectations, sacrificing my profession, not being myself”

He paused, standing up and holding me by the shoulders.

“I also told him that the best person for the position is you” Ye Jun's voice was full of affection, “It has to be you, Tae” he patted me on the side and I looked at him stunned.

“Dad will never put me ahead of Vante, Jun” I blurted as soon as I managed to assimilate what my brother had just said.

“Didn't you hear what he said to you as soon as he left?” Ye Jun looked confused for a second “Now it's up to you. You are the next CEO” he said in a firm tone.

I suddenly got embarrassed because it felt like I had just stolen my brother's job. “It doesn't make sense, we have opposite views on how to run a business” I looked away and stared at the floor.

“True, you do, but lately he started to realize that the world is changing and that Vante could be much better off if it started to adapt” Ye Jun stated by squeezing my shoulders and bringing me back to reality. “Of course, there is still a certain traditionalism in our field, but every now and then dad finds himself negotiating with foreign companies where the mindset is what sets them apart and he feels conflicted. Do you continue as you are and please national companies or do you adapt and gain visibility abroad? He wants Vante to remain as the leader in the segment but he is stuck in his own beliefs and he knows it”

After this conversation with my brother, things changed and I started to accept more confidently the responsibility that was placed upon me. However, regardless of how I felt, the criticism would come in full force. Many powerful people will question my father's decision and I wouldn’t be surprised if boycotts took place in the first year.

It was with all these possibilities in mind that my first act as CEO was to completely renew the staff, starting with the most strategic positions and closest to me. One of them was the operations manager, who would act as my right hand, valuing Vante's financial success and setting in motion the vision, strategic plan, and goals I set.

In theory, Y/N was perfect for it, but I wouldn't make it easier just because we knew each other. She was very smart and I was sure that the moment she walked through that door and came face to face with me, her demeanor would change and we would start playing a game of chess.

******

I dedicated the entire day Wednesday for the interviews and the first two had gone very well, exactly as I had planned and prepared — what a relief! It was almost 4:30 pm, Y/N’s appointment was the last one and I was extremely curious about her reaction, I don't know why. Maybe I wanted to prove something to her, like ‘Ha, look who’s running things now’ or ‘I bet you never thought you would see me sitting here'.

Y/N was always better at everything and I couldn't stand it. I had an obligation to excel at something. She was not perfect as everyone liked to think and, frankly, to worship. But, even if it bothered me to admit, we had things in common and she was qualified.

“Yes?” I said coming out of my reverie when the phone rang.

“Ms. Y/LN is here, Mr. Kim” Eun Ae announced.

“Let her in”

I heard a light knock on the door, followed by its closing and a few clicks of high heels on the floor coming towards me. I looked up and Y/N was dressed in a black midi-length v-neck dress with a stand-up collar that made her look formal but not old. Matter of fact, if I was actually paying attention I could even say that this specific fabric was made for her body type and hugged her in all the right places, but I wasn’t.

“Hello, Y/N” I said getting up from my chair, “Long time no see!” I smiled and took off my glasses, placing them in front of me next to the tablet I had been holding moments before.

Y/N shook her head holding a laugh as she bit her lip and stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world: “You’re so predictable. I’m amused”

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𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱 ❤ 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝘀𝗸! 𝗶 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ revised version: 09.25.2021

[ceealaina]

Title: In My Dreams I Turn You On - Chapter 2 Collaborator Name: ceealaina Card Number: 3088 Link: AO3 Square Filled: K5 - Mutual Pining Ship: WinterIron Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers Summary: Tony’s crushing hard on his new massage therapist, but doesn’t want to be a sleazy businessman. Bucky’s crushing hard on his latest client, but doesn’t want to take advantage of him in a vulnerable position. So they handle it like any sane adults - pretend it’s not happening and refuse to discuss it. At least they both have terrible friends to help them through it. Word Count: 11,067 Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

And that makes a bingo!

Tony tried to resist, really he did, tried to be logical about it all. Look at the facts: James was exactly his type, as much as Tony had ever had one. And he’d had his hands all over Tony’s body — professionally, but for someone as tactile as Tony was, touch was touch. It made sense that he’d react to that, especially since it had maybe been awhile since he’d had someone in his life in that particular capacity. Tony had thought, or at least hoped, that with a bit of space and a good night’s sleep, he’d move on. 

But when, nearly a week later, he was still thinking about James’ laugh, thinking about how loose and relaxed he had felt afterwards, when he was still trying to keep his mind from drifting to blue eyes and a low husky voice when he jerked off at night… He caved. Telling himself that he’d probably built James up in his mind, that if he saw him in person again he’d be able to find a flaw, talk himself out of his silly crush, he booked another massage. And then he may or may not have slipped into the system to ensure that it was James who was assigned as his therapist.

He jerked off beforehand this time, just in case. It had been awhile since he’d been laid. Maybe last time he’d been a little touch starved, and his body had just felt good and his brain had run with it. 

Tony had always been very good at mental gymnastics. 

But the second he walked in the door and spotted James, he knew all his planning had been for nothing. 

James was leaning casually against the table where he kept all his supplies. He had one leg crossed over the other at the ankle, which pulled the fabric of his pants tight across his gorgeously thick thighs, and made Tony want nothing more than to straddle them right here. James was peering down a chart in his hand, tongue poking out between his teeth adorably, but he looked up with a smile at the sound of the door. 

“Hey Mr.-- uh, Tony.” He gave him a brilliant grin, a little flustered, and Tony honest to god felt his knees go weak. 

“Hello, James,” Tony replied, and then immediately wanted to kick himself because his voice had dropped to a lower register, and really, could he sound like more of a sleazy businessman? He smiled, hoping to offset the creepiness, and he could feel his face stretch into something ridiculous and manic. Oh god, is that what his smile always seemed like? He suddenly couldn’t remember what felt normal for his face, or his hands for that matter. Clearing his throat, he tried to come up with something — anything — normal to say. “‘Sup?” 

That… Was not it.

If James had noticed what an absolute weirdo Tony was being, he didn’t comment, just smiled at him brightly. His smile was somehow even more gorgeous that Tony had remembered. 

“Nothing much,” he told him, like ‘sup’ was a perfectly normal, non-90s way of greeting someone. “Headed up to Boston over the weekend. Birthday trip?”

“Really?” Tony latched onto the fact like a dying man. Boston he knew. Boston, he could talk about with something almost resembling normalcy. “I went to school in Boston.” 

James arched an eyebrow at that, and Tony hid a wince because duh, Stark, everyone knew that. 

“What, uh… What did you do there?” 

“Um…” There was the faintest hint of a blush staining Bucky’s cheeks “Well. We had a whole bunch of stuff planned, but then we accidentally spent an entire day at the Museum of Science, so…” 

Tony’s eyes went wide. “Oh my god,” he breathed. “You’re a nerd.” 

A second later it occurred to him that most people probably wouldn’t take that like the compliment it was, but fortunately James didn’t seem offended. 

“Little bit, yeah,” he admitted, rubbing at his lower lip to hide what Tony personally thought was an absolutely adorable smile. 

“What did you see? Did you get to the new exhibit on advanced AI?”

James huffed out a little laugh. “Tell you what,” he offered. “We’re cutting into your ninety minutes, so why don’t we get started and then I promise I’ll regale you with science stories while I work.” 

Tony had honestly forgotten why he was even here for a moment. He blinked at James a moment. “Am I dreaming right now? A massage from— from you.” He stumbled a little awkwardly over the words. He’d been about to say ‘a gorgeous man.’ “And we get to talk science? Sounds fake, but okay. Also, I would just like to point out that I am kind of the boss. If we want to take more than ninety minutes, I’m pretty sure we can do that.”

James snorted. “I like how you assume I don’t have anything else going on after this.” 

“Do you?” Tony asked, before he could stop himself. 

James shrugged. “Not really,” he admitted, grinning. From what Tony could tell, he seemed genuinely amused and not ‘you technically employ me so I’ve gotta laugh’ amused. “I’ve got another appointment, after you, and then that’s it. All free and clear.” 

There was a long moment then, both of them looking at each other in a way that, to Tony at least, felt heavy. Expectant. It would be so easy to just ask if he wanted to grab dinner, or coffee after. 

“Professionalism,” he managed to get out instead. “I like that.” 

James grinned back at him, and Tony told himself that he was imagining the slight tinge of disappointment to it. 

***

True to his word, once they’d gone over Tony’s problem areas, and he was settled comfy-cozy beneath the sheets, and James had returned to the room and gotten started on Tony’s back, he told him in perfect detail about his time at the science museum. He hadn’t been kidding about being ‘a little bit’ of a nerd; the way he’d get distracted on tangents, practically yelling in excitement until he remembered where he was and tamped it down again, was making Tony all kinds of nostalgic for being at MIT with Rhodey. 

He could feel himself falling a little harder with each passing second. 

Tony resisted the urge to jump in, to go into science teacher mode, because he’d gotten feedback in the past that that was a bit of a turn off. He didn’t point out that he’d actually been a consultant in the museum’s collaboration with MIT on the AI exhibit — James probably would have read that in the exhibit info, and if he hadn’t then Tony bragging about it wasn’t going to endear him in any way. But he couldn’t stop himself from fishing for a bit more information.

“So,” he managed, when there was an appropriate lull in the conversation (thankfully not cutting James off mid-word, like he had when he’d gotten a little too over enthusiastic about nanoparticles). “Who’d you go with? Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Your... more intelligent than the average bear?” 

He could feel his neck heat, was glad that the room was dark, that he was lying face down so James couldn’t see the truly ridiculous facial expressions he was probably making right now. 

James made a faint noise that Tony couldn’t quite interpret. “Uh. No, nothing like that. I mean, Stevie’s dumber’n a bear sometimes, but no. Just some friends.” There was a brief hesitation, and then, softer, “Besides, you’d have to have one of those to take them with you.” 

Tony felt a stupid grin cross his face, even more relieved that he was facing the floor. “Yeah, that, uh… That’ll help,” he managed. 

The rest of the session passed entirely too quickly, and before he knew it James was taking a step back, telling him to take it easy and drink lots of water today. Tony hummed out a vague agreement, staring a little dazed up at the ceiling. James huffed out a soft laugh and then hesitated for the briefest of moments at the doorway. 

“It was nice seeing you today, Tony. Hope I’ll see you again soon.”

And then he was gone, leaving Tony blinking helplessly at the ceiling. He stayed there for a long time after he left. 

“Fuck.”  

***

There was really no going back, after that. Tony set up a standing appointment for every other Friday, and it very quickly became the highlight of his week. He also didn’t think he’d jerked off this much before in his entire life, but that was neither here nor there. Because the thing was, yes, James was hot as shit. But he was also ridiculously easy to talk to, and after just a couple of weeks, Tony felt like he’d known him forever, the same sort of instant connection that he’d felt when he’d first met Steve. 

Except, of course, he and Steve had fallen into an easy friendship while with James he just kept thinking of all the ways he wanted to take him apart, so maybe Rhodey was a more apt comparison. 

Tony knew he was driving his friends crazy. He’d started getting JARVIS to mark off his calendar with racquetball, just so he wouldn’t have to endure the looks that Pepper had started giving him when he told her he was going for another massage appointment. Not the usual ‘oh my god, are you kidding me’ looks that she got whenever he was doing something else gross — those he could have handled — but soft, sympathetic looks, like she thought he was in love or something. Perish the thought. Steve, on the other hand, had flat out banned Tony from talking about James anymore under threat of not hanging out until he either stopped going, or pulled his tits up and asked him out. Tony still managed to work him into every conversation. Pining was hard. 

Rhodey, at least, was a little more understanding. He and Sam had been roommates first, danced around each other for months without even knowing if the other one was into men before Sam had tripped and Rhodey had fallen and they’d ended up with their mouths on each other’s dicks. And then it had been another few months of “it’s just sex,” and “it doesn’t mean anything, Tony, really, shut up about it,” until they’d finally admitted that it was, in fact, a lot more than just sex. So Rhodey understood. Tony was still driving him absolutely bananas, but he at least understood. 

***

Tony didn’t know it, but Bucky wasn’t doing much better. Almost from the moment one session would end, he’d be counting down the hours until the next one. Every day that they didn’t have an appointment, he’d get a — frankly embarrassing — thrill low in his belly, wondering, imagining if he might run into Tony somewhere in the building. And on the days when he did, when he and Tony would make eye contact and Tony would give them that smile, like just seeing Bucky had saved him from a terrible day? Bucky knew it was probably just a reflex, born of being trained to be the consummate businessman since he was a kid, but it never failed to make his entire day, leaving Bucky smiling like a fool the whole day long.

He was kind of a ridiculous romantic like that.

It would be easier, maybe, if he thought it was completely one-sided, if it was just a hopeless crush on his part that he could wallow in and then get over. But try as he might, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that it wasn’t entirely unrequited. He’d caught Tony giving him a look once or twice, when he thought he wasn’t looking, eyes lingering over his ass or thighs. But more than that, he’d say things sometimes, something innocuous that could almost be taken to mean something else. It wouldn’t be such a big deal, except then he’d get this look on his face. If Bucky blinked he’d miss it, but for just a second his eyes would go wide, and he’d have an ‘oh shit’ look on his face, like he hadn’t meant to let that slip. And then there’d been that long moment, their second appointment. He had been so absolutely sure that Tony was going to ask him out, had held his breath as he waited. 

And then the moment had passed and Tony hadn’t said anything at all. But Bucky couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t imagining it, that he wasn’t the only one who could feel how instantly they had connected, how ridiculously well they got along. 

Bucky had a tendency to flirt as natural as breathing, always had. It had gotten him in trouble once or twice as a kid in school, when he’d been caught kissing girls under the slide on the playground. It was hard for him to tamp that down, when he had Tony on the table, not to make everything sound like an innuendo. Not to turn on the charm, to up their banter, to do everything he could to get that smile out of him and make him laugh until he was just as smitten as Bucky was. He was just so easy to get along with. Maybe it was just the years long crush talking, but Bucky couldn’t help thinking that Tony saw him. He seemed to really get him, to understand him on a more-than-professional level. They had the same stupid sense of humor, the same style of arguing, and Bucky could listen to Tony go off on science tangents for literal hours. And sometimes he’d share things, stories from university, or about his best friend, or the most recent thing he’d done to exasperate his phenomenal PA, and Bucky couldn’t help thinking that these weren’t the kinds of stories that he shared with just everyone. He just wanted to take him out for dinner and learn everything about him, every secret he had. But like, in a sweet, totally non-creepy way. 

And as an added bonus? Good lord, Tony was gorgeous. 

Bucky had always known that, logically. His crush had to come from somewhere. But he was infinitely more gorgeous in person. Sometimes it was really hard not to let his voice drop into something low and wanting and sexy when the lights were dimmed low, and Tony was almost naked on the table, making those noises when Bucky got close to his ass, and all he could think about was dropping to his knees and sucking Tony off until he screamed.

Just the thought had Bucky twitching as he lay in bed, trying to will himself to just go to sleep. He normally tried not to think about it too… vividly, in his day to day. It felt like an invasion of privacy, imagining Tony like that, especially when he frequently dealt with him while the other man was in a pretty vulnerable position. And, irrational though it may have been, there was a part of him that worried that, if he let himself imagine it too much, he might just forget one day, greet Tony with a hot and heavy make out session, or something even worse. 

At night, though… 

Bucky shifted on the bed again, squirming a little as he felt his cock thicken in his shorts. It felt okay at night, when he was lying here in the dark. LIke he was a step removed from it. It was too easy to picture Tony, to imagine that there was something there, that he could just have him, whenever he wanted. It went against every bit of his sense of professionalism, but the idea of fooling around under the guise of giving Tony ‘therapy’ sent a delicious thrill through his stomach, made him groan as it thrummed in his balls. 

“Shit,” Bucky breathed, palming absently over his dick through the silky material. It was fine, he was a grown ass adult who was in complete control of his physical reactions. He wasn’t going to jerk off thinking of Tony (again). He wasn’t. He just had to adjust himself, and…

Bucky hissed out a low breath, eyes rolling back as he gripped himself. He couldn’t resist dragging his thumb up the length of dick, hips jerking when he rubbed just underneath the head. Then he grit his teeth and pulled his hand away, willing his cock to calm the fuck down. He’d just jerked off this morning, he was fine. He huffed loudly, scrubbing a hand over his face. There was an itch on his thigh, and reached down to scratch at it, squeezing his eyes shut like he could somehow force himself to sleep. Instead, his mind offered up the image of warm, brown eyes, Tony’s face scrunching up as he laughed at something Bucky had said; apparently he daydreamed about Tony so frequently now that picturing Tony was automatic. It was just so easy to imagine him, the way his tongue would always dart out, swipe over his lips before he’d suck the lower one between his teeth. It killed Bucky every time. 

He shivered, and abruptly realized that scratching the itch on his thigh had turned to dragging his blunt fingernails back and forth over the hyper-sensitive skin, a light, thrilling, tease. He groaned out loud, tugged at his hair in frustration which backfired spectacularly when it made his cock twitch. 

“Jesus Christ, Barnes,” he said to the empty room. “Pull yourself together.” 

He sat up enough to flip the pillow over to the cool side, flopping back down and turning onto his side so he could shove his face into it, spreading his legs a little to accommodate the weight of his dick. He closed his eyes again, trying to focus on deep breathing, but inevitably his thoughts turned to Tony again. It wasn’t even the top of the list of things that Bucky adored about him, but the man was stupidly beautiful. Picturing his smile, Bucky could imagine himself stepping closer to him, the way Tony’s eyes would drag down his body, catching on his thighs the way they always did, when he thought Bucky wouldn’t notice. As easy as if it had really happened, he could imagine himself moving closer still, Tony’s eyes going wide and dark when Bucky got up in his space, lips parting on a soft breath. Every once in awhile, after a long day, Tony’s normally coiffed hair would be reduced to a mess of curls. Bucky was picturing it like that now, imagining carding his hand through it the way he always wanted, tugging just a little until Tony gasped, head tipping back to look up at him, eyes soft and wide and hungry for it. 

Bucky’s hips jerked involuntarily, and he whined as the motion ground his dick against the mattress, sending a sharp shock of pleasure through his body. God, he just… He wanted so bad, wanted Tony’s hands all over his body, wanted to get his own hands on that gorgeous ass and haul Tony right up tight against him, the two of them grinding against each other, so overwhelmed they couldn’t so much as undress. Wanted to take Tony to bed, spread him out, take his time kissing every inch of his body until he was gasping and pleading, wanted Tony to do the same to him in kind, to feel those calloused fingers wrapped around his cock. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. He’d known all along, really, that this was inevitable, and he pushed down the guilt as he shoved his hand into his shorts, eyes nearly crossing as he closed his fist tight, the pressure sending tingles all the way down to his toes. He wasted no time with teasing himself, jerking off with a steady, firm grip, trying to emulate how he thought Tony, with his technical mind, might set about taking him apart. His hand moved faster at the thought, imagining Tony watching him with a serious expression, cataloguing every shift of his body, every twitch of his face, figuring out how to take him apart in the best possible way. Tony, leaning in close, biting at his lips, crooning at him to go ahead and come, and Bucky… Bucky would… 

His balls drawing up tight, Bucky turned his head back into the pillow as he came, biting down against the fabric so that he didn’t actually let Tony’s name slip past his lips like he desperately wanted. 

After, when he’d kicked off his shorts and cleaned up with the tissues he kept on the bedside table, and lay sprawled out on his back, still catching his breath, he couldn’t help thinking of the afterward. He and Tony laughing goofily, still a little orgasm high. Tony pressing up against his side for cuddles, the way he’d fit perfectly under Bucky’s chin. For a brief moment, his arms actually ached with the desire to just hold him. 

Worse, he was pretty sure he wanted that comfortable intimacy even more than the imagined amazing sex. 

He was a goddamn mess.

***

“Fuck,” Bucky whined, pillowing his head in his arms on the table. 

“Dude.” Sam’s hand grabbed the back of Bucky’s t-shirt, yanking him upright. “What are you doing? We’re in a bar, you freak. Quit embarrassing me in front of the ladies.” 

“What ladies?” Bucky grumbled. “You’re gay, Sam. You’re married. To a man.” 

Sam just shrugged at him, like he was missing the point, and Bucky huffed. 

“You don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like to be in love with someone who doesn’t know you’re alive. You and Rhodes moved in the first night you met.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Because we were roommates. He was fresh off a tour and needed a place? Mutual friend set us up? And then we spent the next few months dancing around each other before we finally admitted we had feelings for each other? Any of this ringing a bell?” Sam shook his head, stealing Bucky’s beer. “Jesus Buck, how much have you had?” 

“Uh… A few?” Bucky offered, because he couldn’t actually remember how much he’d had to drink, waiting for Sam to show up, but now that it had been called to his attention, he was definitely feeling it. 

Sam just shook his head, obviously trying not to smile. “You got it bad, huh?” 

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Bucky burst out, waving an arm in the air and narrowly avoiding clipping a server and sending their tray flying through the air. “He’s…” Bucky tried to think of a way to describe how wonderful Tony was, but he’d signed an NDA, and was drunk enough that he couldn’t figure out if it applied here, so it was probably safer not to describe him at all.

“Gotta admit man, never thought you’d go for some corporate schill.” Sam was blatantly laughing at him, and Bucky glared.

“He’s not!” Bucky tried to keep the whine out of his voice. “He’s perfect. He… He’s brilliant, and funny, and so kind. He knows everyone’s names, literally everybody. And… And his body?” He leaned in close, conspiratorial. “Okay, you can’t repeat this, but his first session, he got hard, man. Like, hard. His dick was perfect. I just wanted to drop to my knees and—“

“Jesus.” Sam made a gagging noise. “Too much info, Bucky, come on. I may be gay, but that doesn’t mean I wanna picture you having sex.” 

“Whatever.” Bucky heaved out a sigh again, and this time, when he pillowed his head in his arms, Sam didn’t try to stop him. “I am so fucked.” 

Sam’s hand settled on his back, smacking him in a way that Bucky was pretty sure was intended to be comforting. “It’s okay, man. It’ll get better.”

***

Bucky woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and a numb left arm. For probably a too long moment, he thought he’d just slept on it wrong, cut off circulation and hadn’t woken up enough in the night to roll over. 

And then awareness cut through the hangover as he realized that he couldn’t have lost circulation because he didn’t have a left arm. Cursing under his breath, he pulled himself to a sitting position, wincing at the bright sunlight that was filtering through the window -- drunk Bucky was a dick, who hadn’t bothered closing the curtains. The prosthetic was completely dead, and he couldn’t help glaring at it like he could somehow will it back to life through sheer force of his irritation. This had happened once or twice before (the arm going dead, not the willing it back to functioning part), but it was a pain in the ass to reset, and he squinted at it as he tried to remember the proper sequence. It was entirely too early in the morning to be dealing with this shit, and he kind of wanted to punch his past self in the face for drinking this much on a work night. 

Eventually he dragged himself out of bed and into his kitchen, knocking back a glass of water and a couple advil and digging through his junk drawer until he found the instructions he’d written out the last time this had happened. He sat at the kitchen table as he opened the hidden control panel and followed the instructions, rubbing his face and then leaning into his right hand, half dozing as he waited for the reset to complete.

And then he yelped and nearly jumped out of his chair when, instead of the normal return of sensation that he’d expected, there was a sharp, jarring buzzing feeling, stretching from his fingertips right up through the nerve connectors that let him use the arm with a thought. “Aw, fuck,” he grit out, the sensation making his teeth clench and his head throb. There was an emergency shut off button -- he’d always pictured the arm going rogue and trying to murder people -- and he practically slammed it now, slumping in relief as the arm went back to being dead weight. 

“Well, fuck,” he mumbled out loud. “That’s probably not covered in the instruction manual.” He sighed, weighing his options. There was no way he’d be going in to work today; even if he could get an appointment with the prosthetics team, it would likely take up a fair chunk of his day, and until he got in, he didn’t think anyone would be thrilled with a one-armed massage. Which colossally sucked, because it was his standing appointment with Tony today, and he’d been looking forward to it all week. 

For a minute he was tempted to go in anyway, maybe get his other appointments covered but meet with Tony, ask him about it personally. Even if he hadn’t worked on it himself, the man was a genius. He’d probably have some idea of what the problem was. But Bucky knew he wasn’t really going to do that, tempting as the thought of Tony working on him personally was. He’d be cheating Tony out of massage appointment, for one thing, and while he’d gotten to know Tony well enough that he was pretty sure he wouldn’t actually mind, it just felt like a little too much of an abuse of his position for him to really be comfortable with it. 

Of course, when he finally got through to the prosthetics department, and it turned out it was going to be a three week wait before he could even get in to see somebody, and who knew how long after that before the damn thing was actually fixed, he was kind of regretting his decision. But hey, maybe Sam was right and this was the ‘getting better’ that he had been talking about. Some space from Tony would probably be good, really, let him adjust to his feelings, maybe give him the chance to accept that it was never going to happen and move on. 

He kept trying to tell himself that, but he couldn’t shake the ache at not knowing when he’d even have the chance to see Tony again. 

***

Tony’d had the morning from hell -- board meetings were awful on a good day, and when he had to spend the entire time arguing with a bunch of old men who didn’t even understand what they were talking about, it made them even worse -- but that didn’t stop him from humming to himself from lunchtime on. It was probably a sign of just how far gone he was, but knowing he was seeing James in just a few hours kept his mood up. He’d been talking with one of his work contacts at JPL the night before, and he’d mentioned some new developments that he knew James was going to lose his mind over. He was practically bouncing by the time he finally headed off for his appointment, all but bursting into the room. 

“Hey, so, guess what I just hea… Hi.” He blinked, bemused, as he was met with Louise instead. Recovering quickly, he offered her a bright smile. “Hey Louise!” 

She grinned back at him. “Hey, Tony.” Her eyebrows arched. “Long time no see.” There was something knowing in her gaze, and Tony shifted a little. 

“Yeah, uh… I guess my appointments got switched over to James, when he started working here.”

“Mmmm. Lucky you then, huh?” Louise gave him a wink. “He’s a gorgeous boy.”

And sure, of course he was, but that didn’t really explain why he wasn’t here. Louise didn’t offer any further comments on James though, just set about beginning the session, and Tony just went along with it. He was missing some social cues sometimes, but he was pretty sure demanding to know what happened to his other massage therapist would be rude at best. 

Still, despite the small talk, and Louise’s story about her trip to Prague, Tony couldn’t stop thinking about James, wondering where he was and if everything was okay. He lasted about fifteen minutes -- thankfully managing to catch an appropriate break in the conversation, before he couldn’t wait any longer and had to ask. 

“So, uh…” He closed his eyes, even though Louise couldn’t see his face anyway, and hoped that he wasn’t as obvious as he thought he sounded. “Where is James, today?” He was struck by the sudden fear that he’d made him comfortable enough to want to quit, or at least not face Tony again, and felt himself tense up. “Hope everything’s alright?” 

If Louise felt his back go tight, she didn’t comment. “Nah, everything’s fine,” she assured him. “Just a sick day.” 

Immediately Tony’s mind went to the frankly adorable image of James, curled up on his couch with a blanket, coughing and sniffling his way through his Netflix queue. He felt the inexplicable desire to take care of him, and was wondering if it would be overstepping to send him get-well flowers, or maybe soup from that tiny hole-in-the-wall diner over in Alphabet City, when he realized that Louise was still talking. 

“He mentioned something about his prosthetic not working. Said it would be a few weeks before he even gets in for an appointment, so it’ll probably be awhile before he’s back.” 

And okay, if Bucky’s arm was acting up, that was… Well, embarrassing was what it was, since it was a Stark Industries product, but more importantly, that was something that Tony could fix. He was barely conscious for the rest of the massage, mind already whirling a mile a minute as he thought of all the ways he could improve the prosthetic, how he could tailor it, increase the sensation, bring up the response time. He didn’t know what James needed specifically, but it would be easy enough to bring up the schematics for the most recent improvements, see what more could be done -- especially if he stepped in personally. 

He’d had an informal business dinner that evening, but he cancelled it as soon as Louise left the room, almost forgetting to get dressed again in his hurry to get back to his personal lab. The second he’d had JARVIS bring up the necessary schematics, he’d been beset upon by ideas, had worked through night, pausing only for a couple hours sleep on the cot he kept down there before he was back at it again. 

It was… Sometime the next day when Pepper came in, arching an eyebrow at the pants and rumpled shirt that he was still wearing from the day before. “Well. Someone’s been busy.” 

Tony hummed out a distracted answer, and Pepper stepped closer, her other eyebrow shooting up when she realized what he was working on. 

“Really, Tony?” 

Tony did look up then, eyes wide as he tried to hide his guilty expression. “What?” he asked, a little defensively. “It’s a matter of professional pride.” Pepper didn’t answer, and Tony huffed, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. “The prosthetic stopped working! This is an SI product, and we have to stand by our products, and -- DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, PEPPER!” 

Pepper just sighed sympathetically and then leaned over, kissing his temple. “Just don’t work yourself too hard, okay? I know how you tend to throw yourself into things when you’re personally invested, and…” She pressed her palm flat against his chest, right over his heart so there’d be no mistake of what she meant. “Just take care of yourself, Tony. Make sure you eat. Get some actual rest,” she told him, heading for the door again. “And maybe take a shower!” she called back over her shoulder. “You kind of stink.” 

Tony had rolled his eyes, refusing to let her see how genuinely touched he was by her obvious concern, and though he did shower and even ordered an entire pizza, he still worked through the weekend. By Monday morning, he had a working prototype, one that was specifically tailored to James. And while he’d been supremely tempted to track down James’s address and show up with the arm as a surprise, possibly while wearing a trench coat and nothing else, he was pretty sure that was the lack of sleep talking, and quite likely a good way to end up calling Rhodey for bail (again). Forcing himself to keep a respectful, professional distance, he had instead taken it over to the prosthetics department, explaining the updates and laying out how they should be applied to all the prosthetics moving forward, and then politely suggesting that, since he’d used him as an example, they should trial it on James, and push up his appointment. Preferably to today. 

Then he’d gone up to the penthouse with plans to collapse into his bed for the next twelve hours.

If he was being totally honest with himself, there was a tiny part of Tony that had thought James would maybe call, that he’d want to thank Tony personally and in the process admit to some reciprocated feelings. But the day passed without so much as a word, and the one after that as well. By Wednesday, Tony caved and called Fred in prosthetics, who assured him that Mr. Barnes had in fact been fitted with the prosthetic arm on Monday, as… suggested, and had seemed inordinately pleased with it. 

So that was that.

Tony tried to tell himself it didn’t matter, that maybe James wouldn’t have known just how much of an overhaul the arm had received, or even realized that Tony had been the one to do it. Tried to tell himself that it wasn’t a rejection, that it hadn’t changed anything between them. Or hell, maybe it was a rejection. Either way he had to move on with his life. He was going to Rhodey and Sam’s that night for tacos -- because they were that married couple -- so he could focus on the people he knew loved him back. 

Of course, this newfound resolve lasted long enough for him to let himself in the front door of the house and throw himself on the couch, ignoring Rhodey’s attempts at beating whatever video game he was playing in favour of shoving his head in his lap. “Rhodeyyy,” he whined. “I don’t understand. Why doesn’t he just love me?” 

“Oh jesus,” Rhodey muttered, making a half-hearted attempt to shove Tony’s face off his knee. 

“Rude. You’d think you’d have more sympathy. I very clearly remember more than one occasion of having to pour you into bed after getting drunk and crying over your ‘unrequited’ love for Sam.” 

Rhodey gave an exaggerated sigh. “Oh boy. Here we go again.” 

Tony ignored that, snuggling in closer. “This would be easier with you, Honeybear. Even if you worked for me, you’ve never taken me seriously anyway, no abuse of power, right? Let’s start dating again!” 

Giving up on his video game, Rhodey rubbed a hand over his forehead. “I’m with Sam now!”

“That’s fine! The more the merrier!” 

“Oh my god,” Rhodey muttered, laughing despite himself. 

“I built him a new arm, Rhodey!” 

“What’s going on now?” Sam asked, walking into the room with a round of beer and an arched eyebrow, and the impeccable timing of a man sensing that his husband was in need of rescue.

“Don’t ask,” Rhodey told him, not quite cutting off Tony as he launched into a very detailed overview of his long and tragic love story. Rhodey covered his mouth. “Tony’s pining again,” he added succinctly, before scrunching up his face when Tony licked his hand in retaliation. 

“Ah,” Sam laughed sympathetically, sliding the bottles across the table as he settled into the armchair. “Your physiotherapist, right?” 

“Close enough,” Tony muttered, finally pulling away so he could sit up and drink the beer without spilling it all over himself -- never let it be said that Tony didn’t learn from his mistakes. “Point being, I’m in a position of power. If I make any kind of a move I’m gonna be that guy, which is the last thing I want. And then it’s all. ‘Does he really want me? Did he say yes because he thought he had to? Is that gonna define our whole relationship?’ That’s if he even feels that way.” Sam was eyeing him suspiciously, and Tony finally sighed, giving him a somewhat dirty look. “Okay, what? Are you making fun of me too?” 

“No, I’m not making fun of you,” Sam assured him. 

“I am,” Rhodey muttered, just loud enough for Tony to hear. Sam ignored him. 

“I’ve just got the strangest sense of deja vu right now. I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.”

“Probably because it’s the only conversation Tony has lately,” Rhodey offered. “And I’ve recounted it to you so many times that you feel like you were there.” 

Tony stuck his tongue out at him. “Hey Rhodes? Fuck you.” 

Of course, Rhodey couldn’t take that lying down, and they very quickly devolved into a wrestling match, with added effect of Sam worrying so much about the two of them destroying the antique vase inherited from his grandmother that he completely forgot to try and parse out why the conversation had seemed so familiar. 

***

At least, he forgot about it until the next day, when he was meeting Bucky for lunch. He’d barely sat down when Bucky came bursting into the restaurant, looking around wildly. He spotted Sam and nearly knocked over an entire (thankfully empty) table in his rush to get to him. 

“Holy shit!” he yelped, apparently uncaring of the dirty look that earned him from the elderly couple a few tables over. “Guess what he did!” 

Sam blinked at him, utterly lost. “Guess what… Who did what now?” 

Apparently too overwhelmed to properly explain, Bucky started waving his left arm wildly through the air, catching his water glass and nearly sending it flying. “He built me an entirely new fuckin’ arm, Sam.” 

For the briefest of moments, Sam thought he was having an entire out of body experience. “He… He built you an arm,” he repeated weakly. Bucky was too busy gesticulating and waxing poetic to notice as Sam’s mind melted for a minute. “Of course he did. Because my idiot and Rhodes’s idiot are the same fuckin’ pair of idiots.” 

And then, because he wouldn’t be a real friend if he didn’t try to get the maximum amount of possible entertainment out of this, he grinned. 

“Hey, Buck? Why don’t you come with me ‘n Rhodey to the SI gala tomorrow night? Rhodey’s got a… contact. I’m sure we could get you an extra ticket. And hey, maybe your hunk of handsome’ll be there, huh?”

The way that Bucky’s face went pale, mouth opening and closing like he couldn’t even comprehend the idea, was absolutely priceless. 

@tonystarkbingo 

[luninosity]

What are your top 5 evanstan fic ideas you wish someone else would write?

OH GOODNESS HOW DO I PICK

Okay, let’s see...this will be interesting...sort of a mix of tropes I like but am not good at writing myself, and tropes I just straight-up love and want more of! *laughs*

Not in any particular order, just as I think of them...and keeping in mind that these are all 100% just personal preference things I like, for me personally, and other people’s mileage may vary...

1) some sort of suspense/mystery (might or might not also be paranormal, like psychics or talking to ghosts) with a TON of thrilling near-death escapes and hurt/comfort (preferably some good hurt!Seb moments but we can have both that and hurt!Chris at times - both is good!) and EMOTIONS and PROTECTIVENESS (writing action and suspense and, y’know, actual plot, is not really one of my strengths, or at least I don’t think so, but I love authors like Cordelia Kingsbridge who do this so well!)

2) some of those moments of Chris listening to some of Seb’s panels and answers to questions, you know, the ones about wanting to change his name and working hard on liking himself, and Chris’s emotions and reactions, and then Chris just lavishing Seb with affection and adoration in every possible way, coffee and chocolate desserts and new books and cuddling (I mean okay I also kind of want to write this but I ALSO WANT TO READ IT AND WE CAN HAVE MORE THAN ONE OF THESE STORIES OH HECK YES ALL OF THEM PLEASE)

3) sub!Seb porn with like...just glorious unabashed consensual kinks. Like, spanking, bondage, multiple/forced orgasms, breathplay (oooh yes), fisting, figging, sounding (there’s not enough of that one, guys)...but also emotions, like, yes, Chris absolutely taking Seb apart, but with pure love and joy and being honored to get to give him this, and playing with that aspect of Chris’s character that, as he’s said, likes to be in charge (directing, in charge of school projects, etc) not so much out of wanting to Be In Charge but because that way he can make sure it all turns out right and good, and also loving all of Seb’s responses (extra side note for all my kinky peoples: personal preference note: I didn’t say watersports up there but I could’ve, in a specific way - it’s not one of my go-to kinks but I can read/write it when it’s less about the...act itself and more about the power/control dynamic of it, if that makes sense? like, I wrote it once for an Extra Sugar bonus scene - and once over in X-Men fandom, in Sonnet for a Poet and his Pirate - in sort of that context, about denial and waiting and Chris’s command over Seb’s body, the control and then the loss of control and the complete giving way and letting everything go, released and surrendered - so anyway, now you know, it’s not one of the kinks I look for most often but there are versions I wouldn’t mind seeing in Evanstan sub!Seb porn-with-feelings)

4) holiday domestic fluff! Like...decorating for Halloween, or for Christmas; putting up a tree, buying decorations, picking out and carving pumpkins...cooking for Thanksgiving...basically just, like, ALL THE DOMESTIC AUTUMN/WINTER HOLIDAY FLUFF, GIVE IT TO ME, ANY RATING, FROM G TO EXPLICIT, IT’S ALL WONDERFUL AND SPARKLY AND SOFT *grabby hands*

5) how do I pick one more? kind of a tie: I would actually really love more domestic Evanstan - like, them moving in together, or even picking out a house together, or buying furniture or sheets, things like that. I also love some good hurt/comfort and/or fake character death and hurt!Seb and and protective!Chris (who also has ALL THE EMOTIONS and could use some cuddling). (more hurt!Seb, I hear you say? OKAY LOOK YOU ALL KNOW MY PREFERENCES BY NOW fake relationship or accidental marriage tropes, because I don’t know if I’ve seen all that many of those in Evanstan fandom? and they would be so adorable and there would be SO MUCH MUTUAL PINING and I would love the heck out of every bit of it.

(Since I mentioned domestic things and all: I am not generally all that excited by kids in fic - like, it’s not a deal-breaker, but I’ve never personally been all that into kids (having, being around, coping with, etc) (also my brother’s kids are legitimately terrifying) as such, so there’d have to be some other compelling reason for me to, say, read a fic with Evanstan having kids. But, again, that’s just me!)

So that’s what I’m thinking about right now! And now I want to read all of them! *laughs* Thank you for the ask; it was delightful!

[takaraphoenix]

So some people have been saying that you fetishize gay males and assign stereotypical roles ( submissive cute bottoms and dominant sexy tops) and I was like "no? She doesnt?" But they're insisting so do you think you do?

I think, quite frankly, that the misogynists can go fuck themselves and just block me and ignore me if they legit think that’s in any way or shape the case or “”offends them””. ^^

Seriously getting tired of this internet culture of hating on women for writing gay relationships. I write the bottoms cute, I also write the tops cute. I write the tops sexy, I also write the bottoms sexy. I write them as equal dorks, generally.

Percy and Jace are really well-trained, they’re literally great heroes. It’s not like I somehow take away their strength and make them petite, helpless dudes with no six-pack and no manliness??

And just because I write BDSM and write the bottoms as the subs, well, that’s my cup of tea - and that’s exactly why I tag shit. So people who prefer the bottoms as the doms and the tops as the subs can just avoid running into things they don’t like reading. That’s why tagging exists. But mainly, this is a case of preferrences. Some prefer to top, some prefer to bottom, some prefer to sub, some prefer to dom, some prefer to switch either. If my preferred combination does not allign with your preferred combination, guess what - no one’s forcing you to read it, dudes.

But that’s the tumblr culture for you; if they don’t like what you write they will literally invent new definitions of existing words to twist it and have a ““defense”“, like they need a justification to hate your stuff.

Dude. I am literally the first person to tell you that you are 100% allowed to hate my stuff for whatever reason. It’s called taste. Taste differs, everybody has a different taste. And if what I do is for any reason, or even entirely without reason, not what you like - the internet gives you tools to avoid ever seeing even a single fic or post I make.

You don’t need to reinvent nonsense. This whole culture of some crybabies sobbing about fetishized gay relationships about coffeeshop AUs and shit is just… so very, very, very fundamentally misogynistic in its nature, because it literally boils down to a bunch of men trying to dictate what a woman is allowed or not allowed to like or do.

So you say women are not allowed to write gays at all, it’s not even about the sex it’s about how “the fluff is too fluffy and you are treating them like your castrated little ‘uwu gay babies’!!!” (which… I… have actually never, in my life, heard a female writer or fanart artist talk about the gay characters the way those shitheaded antis claim we do?? But I have that exact type of complaint before! Literally anything is a “”fetishization”” to them if written by A Woman)… you know where it’d be? If only the Gay Man is allowed to write the Gay Experience?

There would not be a lot of Gay Experience for them to enjoy. But instead of being happy that women give them content to enjoy, it is being cruxified, solemnly based on it being made by a woman; if the same type of coffeeshop AU is from a male author, then it’s okay though.

Those people are fundamentally missing the point of writing? Because you don’t need to be a wizard to write about magic. And you’re not fetishizing wizards by writing about them.

You don’t need to be a dog to write say 101 Dalmatians, and you’re not fetishizing dogs by writing it either…??

But sure. If a woman writes a mlm relationship, we are on principle fetishizing all gay men and the sensitive crybabies in particular. Seriously, I have read gay men bitch that they feel personally fetishized… like… what is wrong with you, dude. It can not even be you unless it’s real person fiction about you.

I got zero patience for this shit, man. If they don’t like my stuff, just ignore it, but don’t play fake social justice warrior, go and spend your energy on, I don’t know, making a difference in the real world, instead of trying to tell a gay woman she’s not allowed to write the gay male experiences just because I’m not a man.

If they think only men have a right to write men and that all women should only write about women and if women dare write about gay men then they totes are solemnly only doing that to “”fetishize””… how do they not realize how ridiculous they sound?

I’m gay. I’m writing about the gay experience. I channel a lot of my own feelings and experiences about coming out and living as a gay person into writing my gay stories. And anybody who is trying to tell me how to cope with my own inner thoughts and with my own gay experience can just majorly go fuck themselves, seriously.

Not to mention the fact that a fetish is something inherently sexual, implying I am doing whatever they think I do for some kind of... sexual reasons? Like I’m getting off to my 10k mutual pining fluff fic or something?

But to clearly answer your question: No, I am not. I am writing. And if someone got a problem with the way I portray the characters, they can just not read what I write, but if they go out of their way to make up bogus claims that when a woman writes about men it is only to “”fetishize”” them, then they are inherently misogynistic and can kindly fuck off.

[valkyrieofsmut]

Engel de la Gargouille  Section 2 part 3

Engel de la Gargouille (Gargoyle’s Angel)

Kurt Wagner/ Nightcrawler x Female OC

Types: Smut, Angst, Mutual pining, Pregnancy, Romance, Love, Insecurity, Long as hell…

Overall series warnings: Smut, bit of violence, swearing, German (translations provided, but I have bad grammar… Sorry native speakers…) (Will be added as they come up) Chapter warnings will be added individually as well.

A/n-  Basically a bunch of scenes to show battle techniques and stuff. And awkward interaction.

Masterlist       Series Masterlist

Story!

After more sessions, Angeline got a lot better, learning what she could do effectively, and what wore her down quickly.

With Logan's help, she became a little more proficient in hand to hand combat, learning how to use her weight, and discovered that aerial acrobatics were her strong suit.

She could still use her tail to crush, of course, but she'd rather leave anything related to the monster that was her on that side of her glamour, not even knowing which side was her true appearance.

.

Angeline was headed down to the Danger room, but nearly crashed into Kurt as he stepped out of the kitchen into the hallway in front of her. “Oh!” Kurt froze, stopping himself from colliding with Angeline. “I’m sorry,” Angeline told him, giving him a smile.

“It’s no problem, I should watch where I’m going better,” he told her, returning her smile. He was moving, turning to go, but she stopped him.

“Kurt, do you-” he turned to look at her, “do you have Danger room practice today?” She asked, unable to think of anything else.

“Ja,” he told her.

“Oh, me, too. Is… Is it this morning, or this afternoon?” She asked, trying to make the conversation last longer.

“I’m headed there now, actually,” he told her.

“Ah, I am as well,” she told him.

And then awkwardly stood there, smiling blankly.

Like an idiot.

“Shall we go together?” She finally thought of asking.

“Um, I actually have one more stop to make before I go,” he told her. “But, I’ll see you down there,” he offered with a smile.

“Ok,” Angeline agreed before giving herself a mental slapdown. She wished her brain could function around him so she could stop sounding like a complete moron who didn’t understand the simplest things.

Angeline had already changed when Kurt entered the Danger room, and she let her eyes take him in for a moment before she turned back to whatever Scott was saying. She didn’t think she’d ever get tired of seeing him in that suit, but she didn’t want to be disgusting about it. Not like the men in France had been about her.

Shortly after, they started the training.

Angeline pulled away from the wall where she had ducked to avoid the robot that had been headed toward her, and took to the air again, dodging the same robot as it flew toward the wall after Logan threw it.

She heard Kurt teleport below, and her eyes were drawn to him, her heart beating faster and a sigh of longing pushing out between her lips.

Kurt looked so delicious in his suit, all skin tight, black and red highlighting his muscles, the white of his gloves and boots doing the same, and his tail was so active, wrapping around people, robots, and things, to throw them, use them to defend, protect them, catch himself or in general to acrobatically propel himself around, near the opposite of hers, which just hung there, or wrapped the end around her ankle.

Something happened below, and Cyclops’s hand slid forward on the control for his visor as he was spun, his eyebeam going wide, and powerful, far more powerful than he would ever have meant for it to be.

Six inches of Angeline's wing was replaced with the smell of burning feathers and flesh, searing pain that invaded her mind and pushed everything else out, and the touch memory of her ears being cut and cauterized played at the same time throughout her body.

A choked cry pushed itself out through her throat, her body automatically clamping down to prevent the additional punishment it expected to come after crying.

Kurt saw the robot that had been cut in half fall, one half falling toward Cyclops and hitting his shoulder, making his hand twist the power control too far, and knocking him sideways. His eyes jumped to Angeline when he heard her cry out, and saw her crash into the wall, then fall to the ground.

“Simulation stop!” Cyclops called out, making every machine in the danger room stop moving as the others hurried to where Angeline was stunned.

Logan was closest, and got there first, Kurt close behind after a teleport, but he stayed back as Logan assessed the situation.

Angeline held her wing to her, her hands tightening on it above where he saw a piece was missing.

His heart clenched in fear for her, but started relaxing as she closed her eyes and he saw her wing fill back out.

“Angeline,” he whispered softly in relief. His beautiful angel was going to be ok.

...    ...    ...    

Angeline stared at Logan where he stood across from her, sizing him up in the low light.

His fists were something to worry about, as were his claws, but she didn’t need to worry to exclusion either of those things.

What she needed to worry about was his stamina. He had some sort of seemingly endless reservoir of power and stamina, whereas she could only rely on her natural power reserves; the energy she got from eating food and sleeping, and what she could find from the elements around her.

Of course, the training simulations were never at night, and rarely in the rain, which was fake, anyway, so she never really had that to draw on.

Logan threw a punch and hit Angeline in the shoulder. She wrapped her hand around the front of his suit, her tail wrapping around his waist, her wings flared as she pushed her muscles, feeling her shoulders and abs bunch as she turned, but not strain as they should have, only like the strength she pulled from outside of herself was flowing through her movements, continuing in the direction that he was moving her, letting her muscles flex and push harder as she pushed the heavier mutant away, throwing him past her to the padded floor.

Logan climbed back to his feet, brushing off his sweats. “Any reason in particular you wanted it to be darker?” He asked.

“No,” she answered, shaking her head as she turned back to him. “It’s important to train in all sorts of conditions. You told me that.”

He grunted in response, sliding back into position. This time, he grabbed her arm and turned her, twisting her so that he had her in a hold, her arms crossed in front of her and her wings pinned between her back and his chest.

He squeezed, and Angeline gasped in pain. She struggled, but couldn’t get out of his embrace. She closed her eyes and flexed her muscles, feeling like her body was absorbing the energy and strength from the dark shadows stretching through the low lit room, fueling her to be able to break the hold, her wings bursting outward and pushing him away from her.

She was glad that she had this strange way to get energy, but she was also glad that it didn’t just seep into her; if she passively absorbed it, she was sure she would wake up and run around like she was burning jet fuel from her feet just from the darkness she’d slept in.

Logan stepped closer, grabbing one wing and pulling her off her feet as he swung her around in circles around him, letting go of her like a throwing hammer to fly off toward a wall.

Angeline flared her wings, trying to find her balance in the air, and watched a pole come towards her. God, she wished she could grab onto it and catch herself like Kurt could with his tail, but hers was near useless, only able to squeeze, and not able to grab at things that were moving.

Finally, after it seeming like it had been minutes of tumbling through the air, Angeline's wings found where they were and stabilized her, catching her only a few feet before she hit the wall.

Logan stood from his position, looking at the door shortly before it opened as Angeline landed on the floor.

“Hey, why is it so dark in here?” Scott asked as he flipped the off switches into the on position.

“Trainin’ in the dark,” Logan answered on a grunt.

Scott's eyes moved back and forth between them, barely noticeable behind his sunglasses, taking in Logan's sweating brow and Angeline's disheveled figure. “Mm-hm,” he hummed suspiciously. Angeline raised her head and looked up at him in question, wondering why he wouldn't believe that, they were in the gym, after all, and Logan huffed in disgust of what he suspected the other man thought. “Well, anyway. Professor Xavier is looking for you, Logan,” Scott said before turning and leaving the room.

“Guess training’s done for the morning, then,” Logan said, grabbing his towel and wiping off his face.

“You're lucky, then,” Angeline told him as they walked toward the door.

“How ya figure?” He asked gruffly.

“I was about to turn around and beat you,” she informed him, a laughing tone in her voice showing her good nature about knowing no such thing would ever happen.

“Huh, you look like you're awake,” he commented, giving her a once over.

“What's that supposed to mean?” She asked in confusion.

He gave a gruff huff of laughter and told her, “‘cause the only time you're gunna beat me is in your dreams.”

“You just wait til next time, you'll see,” she huffed at him, but it was all false agitation made in jest.

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan said.

...    ...    ...    

Kitty turned and threw a robot toward Kurt, who grabbed it and teleported away to drop it from a height before nearly instantly appearing back in the rest of the fight.

Angeline kicked a robot in the head, getting it to start attacking with lasers. She turned and twisted through the air, passing just under the falling robot, wrapping her wings around herself and spinning in a tight barrel roll to make herself smaller. The first robot shot the second just before it hit the ground as Angeline opened her wings and flapped to continue her flight.

After another few short bursts of fighting, Scott called the training over, and they all gathered on the ground, slowly making their way to the exit while waiting for the danger room to completely shut down and open the doors.

Angeline quickly cleaned up and changed, seeing Kitty still in the shower, and, in expert timing that was actually unplanned, hurried out to the hall where Kurt was exiting the men’s locker room.

“Oh, Kurt-”

Kurt stopped and turned to her. “Hallo, Angeline,” he greeted.

Angeline hesitated, not sure what to say. “What did you think of the simulation?” She asked, panicking and saying the first thing that came to her mind, though she was thankful it didn’t seem to sound like that.

“It was ok,” Kurt answered, “though I hope we don’t ever have to really go through a situation like that.”

Angeline blinked before she realized that he meant what kind of simulation it was; evacuating people from a building that was being threatened by terrorists. “Oh- yes, me, too,” she quickly agreed.

She was sounding so stupid right now. She needed something that she could talk about and not sound like a complete moron, but she really didn’t know many things others thought were interesting. “Kurt, do you have a favorite plant?” She asked, floundering for anything to talk about.

“Nein, I can’t say that I particularly do,” he answered, a little confused.

Another dead end…

“Well, I was- in the garden, I was thinking about planting some honeysuckle…”

Kurt raised a brow. “But it’s winter…”

Angeline kicked herself mentally. She was so flustered that she couldn’t even remember what season it was. “In a few months, in spring, of course,” she told him, flashing a smile, hoping the beauty of her practiced and perfect smile would win him over.

The women’s locker room door opened behind them and Kitty walked out.

“Oh, Kitty, I had a question for you. Will you excuse us, Angeline?” Kurt asked, starting off, Kitty going with him, but confused.

“What question is that?” Kitty asked.

“If you would save me from that awkward conversation. You did great. Thanks,” he told her.

“Um, awkward? I thought you wanted to talk to her?” Kitty asked.

“Well, ja, but I was making ein jackass out of myself.”

Kitty looked at him in question. “How so?”

“She was talking about wanting to plant honeysuckle, and I said, ‘but it’s winter.’ Of course I should be able to realize that she meant in the spring, not imply that she meant that she was going to plant it now and expect it to grow. She’s going to think I’m so stupid I don’t even know how plants or seasons work. Ah, Kitty, I’m doomed…”

Kitty hid her laughter behind her hand. “I think she just wants to talk to you, Kurt.”

“Kitty,” Kurt groaned. “She is an amazingly beautiful angel, why would she want to talk to a peasant like me? She is the fair maiden that a knight would rescue from a tower, not the one who would have to marry the kingdom’s trash hauler.”

Kitty smacked him in the shoulder. “Sounds like you need to watch Shrek again, Kurt.”

“Ach, Kitty, be serious. This is not a movie; it’s real life!”

“Kurt, movies often reflect real life. Especially when they’re documentaries!” She giggled.

“Did you just call me an ogre?” Kurt asked, his hand going to his chest.

“Kurt, be serious,” Kitty told him.

“I am. It hurts to think that my friend thinks of me as an ogre… especially when Shrek is green, and I am obviously a much nicer shade of blue.” His tail flicked up behind him haughtily as he acted as though his friend had hurt his pride.

Tag List!

If you’d like to be on any of my tag lists, please let me know! Also starting up my Ao3!

@racheo91 @a-book-pressed-rose @tephi101 @keldachick @Randomfandompenguin @Avacadobutthole @mannls @screeching-student-unknown @lilypalmer1987 @pingu89 @gifsbysimplysonia​ @omnomsauruswrites​ @mybloodtypeiscoffee @lizfawn​ @badassbaker

[shemakesmeforget]

15 fics under 1K kudos

We all know how tempting is to sort fics by kudos, so I'm doing that lol I hope you all enjoy this underrated gems. I might do a part 2, I'm definitely posting a list for wips tomorrow (these are all completed fics btw). I have some moodboards coming, but for now you can check here and for other fic recs here. Okay, let's go!

How to Surprise Your Fiancé With Pork: An Honest Walkthrough by Viktor Nikiforov by Orchids_and_Fictional_Cities (@orchids-and-fictional-cities)

Canonverse, Rated T, 5K 

The thing with Viktor is that once he’s set his mind on something, there is a very very minuscule chance of him not following through on said thing. 

He wants to do something for Yuuri: partly as a Valentine’s Day gift, partly as a prelude to Worlds, and partly ‘just because’. It’s somewhere between dwelling on the abstract thought of Yuuri’s hunger as a competitor, and watching the younger skater on Facetime with his mother back home, that an idea starts to form.. 

-- 

This is how Katsuki Yuuri, the love of his life, the apple of his eye, the fire of his loins et cetera, ad infinitum, finds Viktor when he walks into the door: standing precariously with one foot on a barstool and the other on top of his counter, frantically fanning at his smoke detector with a magazine. 

• This is hilarious, sweet Viktor... he tries so so hard (also I relate to this more than I would like lol)

voices carry by spookyfoot (@spookyfoot)

Canonverse, Rated T, 4K

God Chris is loud, Victor thinks, half of his glass of vodka sloshing onto the floor as another rhythmic thump sounds against the shared wall between his and Chris’ rooms. Would the hotel allow him to change rooms so late at night? He could probably manage it no problem, but his toiletries are spread all over the bathroom and by the time he packs those up Chris and his…guest should be finished.

He’ll have to wait it out.

A moan floats through the wall. Victor’s not sure if it’s approving his plan or warning him to give up while he still can.

He pours himself some more vodka.

“Fill me up,” Chris's Fuck Buddy (CFB) says.

Oh god. Victor takes a long pull of vodka from his glass.

For once, Chris is quiet enough that Victor can’t hear anything beyond a murmur. And he thinks that’s that until—

“Fuck a baby into me,” Chris’ bedmate moans.

Victor chokes on his drink.

_____ 

Meet cute by way of pregnancy kink 

• *heavy breathing* seriously?? You're giving us Yuuri doing the walk of shame and YUUCHRIS??? beware I laughed so hard I cried, so much secondhand embarrassment.

Lay Your Head by kiaronna (@kiaronna)

Canonverse, Rated G, 2K

By the time they end up sharing a bed, they’ve already slept next to each other everywhere else.  

• I LOVE this trope so much omg, you’re in for a treat A DELIGHT.

overture for two (me & you) by oh_fudgecakes (@asideoftrashplease)

Canonverse, Rated E, 21K

Plagued by his poor performance at the GPF, Yuuri’s disastrous free at Japanese Nationals ends not just in eleventh-place, but deals him with a lasting injury, resulting in him retiring before the events of the show. He becomes a commentator, determined to move on from his uneventful skating career. Yet, a series of chance meetings with a smitten Viktor and his own yearning for the ice keeps drawing him back to competitive figure skating. 

In which everything's different, but it all ends the same anyway. 

• Commentor!Yuuri owns me lol (all Yuuris own me), a great balance between angst and humor.

Lead Me To You by luni

Canonverse, Rated E, 68K

Victor Nikiforov, Russia’s living legend of figure skating, is forced to take most part of the season off because of a rather serious injury. A comeback, no matter how exciting or unexpected, is never easy- especially when the person who is supposed to help Victor through most of it is none other than Katsuki Yuuri, former ace of Japan, now retired.

• Role reversal!! Coach Yuuri!!!! angsty af but oh dear they're crazy for each other. 

Ode To Apollo 13 by cerebella (@badkisser)

Space AU, Rated E, 66K

Yuuri Katsuki has his first and only breakup, and reacts the only way he knows how: board a starship and live out the rest of his life in outer space, millions of light years from the home planet he loves. 

It doesn't work.

• Getting back together is a trope I really enjoy, also friends with benefits *praying hands emoji *  Particularly I like the flashback to their school days and, if you squint, you have some sweet yuuchris too <3 

were stars to burn by xylophones (@xyloophones)

Space AU, Rated T, 7K

How should we like it were stars to burn

With a passion for us we could not return?

“I’ll call,” Viktor promises, “I’ll write, I’ll send holo videos, I’ll–– I’ll–– I’ll––”

He doesn’t say “I’ll stay if you ask” but he thinks it. He thinks about asking Yuuri to wait for him.

He won’t.

(But he thinks about it: Yuuri, pointing up at the night sky and saying “there’s the love of my life, among the planets, among the streaks of light above us.”) 

• I dont wanna say I cried like a baby because that would be insulting to babies. So sad and beautiful.

Follow Me Down the Milky Way by Skowronek and voxofthevoid (@kaja-skowronek and @voxofthevoid)

Space AU, Rated E, 17K

When decorated space officer Viktor Nikiforov is sent on a mission to bring down an infamous smuggler, he does not expect to be swept off his feet by a pole dancer as mysterious as he is deadly.

Yuuri Katsuki simply tries to make the galaxy a better place with as little collateral damage as possible, but that's easier said than done when a fleet commander's son sneaks into his ship and a pretty officer with a thigh fetish is after his head and dick both.

• BAMF!Yuuri <3 finally Yuuri's thighs get the appreciation and love they deserve. Very sweet and funny!

quantum entanglement by minsyah (@pockybugi)

College/Coffee Shop AU, Rated T, 17K

For some reason, the man—Viktor—sits in front of him, silver hair flouncing as he settles comfortably into the chair, introducing himself as Yuuri’s new math tutor with an easy smile.

And Yuuri, 25 years old with a Ph.D. in Applied Mathematics…doesn’t correct him.

(Viktor mistakes Yuuri for a high school student struggling with Geometry. Yuuri’s too awkward to figure out how to tell him otherwise.)

• I'm still laughing so hard. The ultimate meet cute! Yuuri is a dork, my sweet child.

Can you, not? by shereadsthestars

College AU, Rated M, 7K

"Stop moving," Yuuri hisses.

"I'm not moving," Viktor hisses right back, causing Yuuri to roll his eyes.

"Yes, you are," he says, adjusting himself to the best of his ability so as to accommodate Viktor's incessant shifting. "Or I wouldn't have told you not to."

"Whatever," Viktor breathes, then, without missing a beat, "Go out with me."

"No." 

• Viktor is so in love, Yuuri tries very hard to not fall in love but everything works out in the end. Cute angst? cute angst!

faking in secret by DefiantDreams (@gia-comeatme)

College AU, Rated T, 14K

It gets kind of difficult when you’re simultaneously fake dating and dating in secret at the same time.

Yuuri and Viktor make it work—until they don’t. 

• FAKE SECRET DATING GOOD GOD. This Yuuri omg!!!! oblivious heartbreakek to the max. Adorable and hilarious.

Foresight, not just foreplay by myoue (@cofferi)

Roommates AU, Rated M, 6K

There’s no way I could have casual sex, Victor says, I’d fall in love immediately. 

• Friends with benefits is my weakness and oh?? This fic???? I adore how they dance around each other. Just wonderful!

life with the dull bits cut out by thishasbeencary (@yoyoplisetsky)

Actors AU, Rated T, 9K

Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katuski have been best friends since acting school. Viktor got his big break early, and brought Yuuri on to every exciting event and premier in his career. As Yuuri's career takes off, he does the same with Viktor. They do everything together, and act like they've known each other for their entire lives.

Their fans think they're in love.

(Spoilers: They are.)

• This fic literally made me cry at work, friends to lovers is my favorite trope ever and mutual pining AND OMG THIS IS SO CUTE I WANNA CRY AGAIN, amazing.

The Viktor Nikiforov Affair by YankingAwry (@rvancoogler)

Heist AU, Rated T, 13K

Viktor tries wooing Yuuri. Yuuri will not be wooed. And then there's the small matter of Viktor being a Russian master criminal art thief extraordinaire, Yuuri being the Interpol agent assigned to handle him, and the imminent theft of a hundred million dollar painting.

There's tension throughout the whole fic, Yuuri tries do hard and Viktor tries the hardest.

• The fic I didn’t know I needed BUT I DID, such a good read! this Viktor must be one of my faves, hands down. 

Comes Love by Multiple_Universes (@witharthurkirkland)

Burlesque AU, Rated M, 46K

People in the audience would crane their necks to watch Yuuri sit and calmly sip his drink. He’d raise the glass to his lips and down its contents slowly, as if the gold liquid was honey and not champagne. Or he’d get a cocktail and drink it through a straw in a way that would make the men around him break out into a cold sweat. Then he’d cross his legs and recline in his seat and it didn’t matter what was happening on the stage: every eye in the room was on him. The regulars often said that no one could cross their legs like Eros did.

That night he sat in his usual spot and watched the stage with unseeing eyes. Two weeks of someone leaving a bouquet of roses would make anyone curious. He’d always find them in the same spot. There were always seven of them. And they always came without a note. But Yuuri knew they were all from the same person.

A Burlesque AU with Yuuri as a performer and Victor as his admirer.

• Are you ready to experience the best visuals of your existence? *fans self* This Yuuri is just too powerful, def too much to handle (praying for Viktor). Strip and fluff is now my new religion. It was angsty at times but overall it was very sexy and cute, so lovely.

[callmeakumatized]

My Girlfriend’s Boyfriend - Ch. 4

(( Puh-huh…this was NOT edited. Hehe. And there may be a little OOC Gabriel Agreste, but…oh well. (8 Enjoy! ))

Adrien seemed to be in a perpetual state of bad idea-making.

He could blame this on Plagg, on the bad luck brought on by wielding the Miraculous of Destruction. But Adrien knew better. This current situation was entirely his own fault.

In all respects, it was an ideal first date for this particular couple, Adrien thought. Sitting in a dark cinema for a few hours and then going home? Safe. Easy. Minimal. There was little cause for actual communication, and he could further practice his skin-to-skin abstinence. Since that day when he had – good gracious – accidentally kissed her on the cheek what was he thinking, Adrien had deemed it important to avoid any and all touching of Marinette's gosh darn dermis. The less-extreme part of him offered her a smile while shoving his hands as deep as his 3-inch pockets would allow. The more-extreme part of him took to hiding in empty closets on particularly tempting days.

So taking Marinette to the arcade? Out of the question. What if she suggestion a two-player game?

And a walk in the park? Way too risky – if their shoulders so much as brushed, Adrien would be a goner.

The cinema provided perfect cover in this way…as well as giving him a safe haven to watch Marinette a little more closely. Though his blue-haired classmate was still akin to shy stuttering around him, Adrien began to notice a rather Ladybug-esque smile when she thought he wasn't looking.

Or did she know he was looking and trying to not look like he was looking so she looked at him with that look and put all his looking like he wasn't looking to a pointless point?

Because that would also be a very Ladybug thing to do.

Adrien had still not solved his current conundrum. He should come clean, really. The thought had even crossed his mind to show up on her balcony the night before and whisk her away to their favorite spot and confess everything. But something still held him back. It was a feeling like jealousy, but it mixed with something like…self-satisfaction. Yeah, maybe Marinette was – gulp – dating both him and Chat without telling either one. And he did not like that or would approve of it if it was anyone else. But…it was him. She had fallen for both sides of him. And Adrien found that he liked the feeling of…one-upping himself? Maybe. Eventually he would confess. Or she would find out and it would all come crashing down stupendously – but Adrien wouldn't let him think about that right now.

Because right now he was leading Marinette Dupain-Cheng to his car. A very, very pretty and done-up Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Adrien had been around fashion and modeling his entire life. His days and weeks were spent around heavily made-up precocious boys and girls, men and women, with nary a hair out of place. Which was perhaps why Marinette's low-key make-up and natural-looking pink lips made his heart skip more than if she had painted herself with smoky eyes and red cheeks.

Seeing Ladybug wearing a dress was definitely playing a part in his rapidly beating heart as well.

He closed the car door after seeing Marinette snugly in the passenger seat before going around to the other side.

Now, Adrien did not gloat about his father's company, his money, or his empire. He did not take advantage of people, especially his father. But when his father had blatantly missed his 17th birthday by booking a trip halfway around the world, and didn't even notice until a month later, and then tried to get back into Adrien's good graces by buying him a car, who was Adrien to say no to his father's poor attempt at retribution? It was, truly, the best present his father had ever given him, though the blue scarf would always be a significant favorite of his. The freedom this vehicle afforded him was stilted; he was allowed out with in minimally, but, when he was allowed out this night, for a date, he could take the 98% of the time it had to sit prettily in the mansion's garage for these sparse moments. Alone. In a car. With Marinette. And not chaperoned.

It was this last thought that flooded Adrien's thoughts and flushed his cheeks as he slipped familiarly into the driver's seat (so he couldn't drive it that often, but that didn't mean he couldn't hang out in it every once in a while). When he glanced casually to Marinette while putting the key into the car, he couldn't stop the wide grin that spread onto his face at the saucer-sized eyes staring back at him.

"What?" he asked, tone light.

"Is this yours?" Marinette asked, voice just above a whisper.

In response, Adrien only revved the engine, grin turning sly. Marinette's cheeks flushed to a pink that matched the color of her dress perfectly.

"You know…." Adrien purred, and was satisfied by the wary look Marinette suddenly shot him…as if she knew what was coming. "I feel like there's a joke here, but I won't get into that. Car puns are so exhaust-ing."

And there it was. The Ladybug eyeroll.

The following hour was, as planned by Adrien, relatively uneventful. Adrien was polite, paid for the tickets, got them some popcorn (Marinette had insisted on buying her own Cookie Dough Bites, though they disappeared as soon as she had acquired the box), and led them to their seats in what he hoped was politeness and comfortable silence. Everything was going great. There was an armrest between them, and Adrien even leaned the other way for maximum no-touchy evasiveness. And the movie…

Adrien had done well, all things considering. It was a rom-com, picked by Marinette (and readily agreed to by Adrien, who had wanted to see this movie since it first came out), and had all the best parts to any classic: strong characters, secrets, mutual pining, and rain scenes. A cocktail of tear-jerking happiness, and Adrien had held it in. Until the main characters kissed for the first time.

Adrien sighed wistfully.

A moment later, Adrien whipped his head around at the sound of a snort. What he saw was a wide-eyes Marinette covering her mouth as if she had just been the one to laugh at him.

"Are you laughing at me?" Adrien leaned over to whisper to her, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth and chewing it disdainfully.

"I was just – I mean – I was…no?" Marinette…asked.

"And now you're lying to me."

"No! I mean, well…." Her voice trailed off, the fingers that had been covering her mouth dropping a little to tap on her chin as she turned away. A smile tugged at her lips and Adrien found himself swallowing hard at the sight. "I've never seen you like…this."

Adrien blinked. "Like what exactly?"

He might be thoroughly enjoying himself at the moment. And maybe forgetting about his no touch barrier. Especially when Marinette lifted her mirth-filled eyes up to look at him again.

"Such a hopeless romantic. I mean, I always could tell you were kind of…soft-hearted? But, I mean, you're really into this, right?" She gestured lightly to the screen.

"Well, yeah!" Adrien exclaimed. "Aren't you?"

"I mean, well, I like it, but I'm not um…enamored with it."

Adrien scoffed. "'Enamored', huh? Hmph. Well, I don't know about 'soft-hearted', but I'm certainly not heartless. Unlike some people."

"Rude!"

Adrien, who had turned his head to watch the female protagonist's interaction with her friend, turned back to see his date wearing a particularly cheeky smile on her face. He grinned back at her before she reached over the armrest and slugged him.

Adrien yelped before dissolving into giggles at how absolutely adorable Marinette was when she punched somebody. The sound caused a few other theater patrons below their top row seats to turn around in wonder. Thankfully, the movie had been out for a few weeks and the crowd was sparse. But Adrien couldn't stop. Suddenly all he could picture in his mind was a tiny Ladybug looking so Kawaii-cute while give someone an utter beat-down.

It didn't help when she hit him again, though, he noted, she was trying to laugh herself.

"Help! Help! I'm being oppressed!" Adrien cried out quietly.

"Oh my gosh," Marinette sighed, covering her face in renewed embarrassment. "Some prince you are! More like a royal pain!

Prince, huh? He could play to that angle.

"Well, it seemed like the role of 'bumbling knight in, well…somewhat shiny armor' role was already taken." Adrien looked pointedly up and down Marinette before waggling his eyebrows.

Marinette put a hand to her chest and gasped. "'Bumbling'?"

"Well, if the helmet fits…"

"Why did I agree to this abuse?"

"No one could guess. Yet agree to it you did."

"Hmph. Well, I do make a point to do at least one service project a week. I thought this was safe."

This time was Adrien's turn to fake looking affronted. "So a charity case now am I?"

"Well, if the glass slipper fits, Princess…."

"Did you just." Adrien shook his head before shoving more popcorn into his mouth and turning back to the movie. "See if I ever ask you out again."

Adrien would. He would ask her out every day for the rest of his life if she would let him. And when she started giggling at his comment, it only further cemented this fact.

The bantering was cut off when the music of the movie reached a crescendo. The incognito heroes were suddenly both "enamored" with the love story, hearts racing as the climax came and all resolutions reached. When the final kiss became a little…heated, Adrien saw Marinette turn her head away from the screen. He looked over to her and she looked up at him sheepishly.

"It's weird watching people kiss…" she said softly.

Adrien could only look at her for a moment before bursting out in laughter.

"What!?" Marinette replied to his reaction hotly. "A peck or maybe something a little more is fine, but they only put in all that…that making out stuff to get the people watching to want to do the same! And then they'll associate the movie with those good feelings, and…and…."

Marinette's voice faltered. Adrien didn't know why, but it could possibly be due to the fact that watching his secret girlfriend talking about wanting to make out may have caused his jaw to go slack and his eyes to stare back at her longingly. Maybe. After a heartbeat, Adrien whispered his inward thoughts.

"Is it working?"

Marinette was pink-cheeked again, and, although she looked as open-mouthed shocked as Adrien felt, she never dropped her gaze from his.

"Yes."

The credits were rolling. People were leaving, and Adrien Agreste was forgetting all his rules and thoughts that this might be a bad idea. Instead, he was brushing his ungloved fingers on His Lady's jawline, almost shuddering at the feel of her, before leaning down and catching her lips with his.

He had kissed her before, sure, but for some reason Adrien kissing Marinette felt different. It felt new.

The kiss was tentative, light touches on tingling lips. Adrien pulled away each time before going back in for another, reveling in how every caress felt like the first time, over and over again. Marinette didn't seem to mind. Something in Adrien's brain told him that he should possibly be concerned about that. But then he felt her fingers reaching out to touch his arm, gentling stroking from his wrist upward. The sensation did nothing to pull Adrien back to reality.

When the lights flicked on, Adrien pulled away from Marinette reluctantly.

"You're softer than I thought."

Adrien opened his eyes and saw Marinette staring at him, a blush as red as her suit, but a shy smile regardless. She coughed before standing up and stretching. Adrien followed suit. He held out an arm to motion Marinette to proceed toward the aisle ahead of him. Because he was gentleman.

"Oh, no," Marinette giggled. "Princesses first." Marinette then mimicked his own gesture. Adrien wasted no time in sticking his nose in the air and marching past her.

They continued bantering this way to the car, and after the silent drive to Marinette's house. By then, the sun had set, throwing darkness over the bakery. The lights from the park illuminated the sidewalk to the bakery, the light from inside the apartment doorway casting a warm glow over Marinette's features. Adrien, after opening Marinette's car and handing her out, had chosen to stay by the car. It was a wise choice – probably the smartest choice he had made that evening – but Adrien was regretting being so far away from Marinette when her eyes were shining in the window light. When she turned and saw him leaning on his car (okay, okay, posing against his car), Adrien noted the very knowing smile playing on her lips. And then she was inside the door. He watched her for as long as he could, and stayed there for a moment afterward.

All he could think about now was how good she felt. It was annoying, really, seeing how the date was supposed to be something more of a reconnaissance mission and nothing more, and it had definitely turned into something more. Adrien sighed. A light flicked on at the top of the building; Marinette must be in her room. Visiting her as Chat Noir was very tempting at the moment.

"Don't even think about it," a raspy voice said from his pocket.

"I, uh, don't know what you're talking about," Adrien pouted, kicking his toe against the ground and looking anywhere but at Plagg.

"Kid, you are already in a mess here. Chat Noir visiting Marinette will not make it better."

Adrien sighed again. "I know…I just want to go see Ladybug right now."

"You mean you want to mack on your girlfriend like you couldn't really do on your girlfriend because you're not sure if she actually knows she's your girlfriend. About right?"

The teenager shrugged. "More or less."

"And?"

Apparently Plagg could see the wheels turning in Adrien's head.

"And…remind her of who she's dealing with."

Chapter 3 FF.net Ao3

(( THANK YOU FOR READING THIS! And for all the feedback! EEEEEEEE. (8

So, I know I said every day, but…I didn't get home until almost midnight last night so I didn't see a reason to stay up late when it would just get posted today anyway, and I won't post tomorrow. I might – MIGHT – be able to squeeze in the next chapter tonight…but…probably not.

YOUR COMMENTS/REVIEWS HAVE MADE MY DAY. Thank you! n.n And Monday I will be replying to everything I can get my little fingers on. I really do this for you as much as I do it for me. I know these stories bring a smile to my bad days, and I always hope they can do the same for someone else. You guys are AWESOME. *hearts* ))

[tylerhoechlns]

Sterek Bookmarks (2/?)

WARNING: I have been bookmarking almost every sterek fic I have ever read since the summer of 2015. Some of these fics may include side pairings or briefly include Derek and/or Stiles with someone else. I tried to add some tags and warnings here but PLEASE read the tags and or warnings on the fic itself if this is something you do not like. All of these fics are completed.

There are (more than) a few author repeats. Sorry? Enjoy! 

Leather & Us by PolarisTheYoungWolf (Explicit - 1.5k)

Prompt: Stiles wearing only Derek's leather jacket ...

— Tags and Warnings: Underage, Established Relationship, Smut

Who's Wearing the Panties? by Emela (Explicit - 2.2k)

Stiles discovers Derek's secret kink: silk, teal panties, which of course Stiles is only too willing to indulge his boyfriend in playing with.

— Tags and Warnings: Dressing Room Sex, Derek in Panties, Mirror Sex, Praise Kink, Established Relationship

Gunplay is Not Really Our Kink by theroguesgambit (Mature - 2.5k)

Derek and Stiles are captured by a group of hunters and forced to play a twisted game that only one of them might walk away from.

— Tags and Warnings: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Possible Character Death, Recovering from Trauma

So come on now (Strike the match) by Marishna (Mature - 2.9k)

"All week I've been noticing the young ones, those twins? They've been smelling me," Stiles explained. Scott growled low, but Stiles shook his head. "Not overtly or as a threat, I think. But tonight when I was grabbing some sustenance." Stiles hefted the grocery bag up for reference. "One of the other ones was there. The woman with the gnarly toenails? And she did it, too. And gave me this look."

"What kind of look?" Peter asked, stepping out of the shadows by the staircase and at least three of the pack jumped, weres included.

Stiles glared at him but went on. "Like I was fresh meat? Which isn't a look I'm unfamiliar with after being in high school but this was the first time someone who could actually kill me has looked at me like that. I mean, except you," Stiles gestured to Peter. And then turned to Derek and shrugged. "And you, but those are more out of anger, I think."

— Tags and Warnings: Underage, AU: Canon Divergence Scent Marking

🔒 Still Stuck On You by bleep0bleep (Explict - 2.9k)

One of Stiles' goals for Thanksgiving weekend is to take advantage of the privacy away from his crowded dorm rooms to get to know his new vibrator.

He gets, uh, stuck.

Deputy Derek Hale assists.

— Tags and Warnings: AU: College, AU: Human, Childhood Friends, Porn Without Plot

Stay Awhile by imaythrowuponya (Teen - 3.5k)

Once Derek’s brain finally kicks back online, his first thought is how amazing that movement would look on paper. His second is where the hell is his sketchpad?

— Tags and Warnings: Coffee Shop!AU, Artist!Derek, Fluff

testing the waters by grimm (Explict - 4k)

Prompt fill: "I would LOVE a future!fic where Stiles randomly bumps into Derek, maybe in nyc. He's in college now or maybe even post college, and this is their first time interacting since Derek left Beacon Hills. Stiles is obviously SMOKING HOT now and Derek finally got his shit together and is a successful 30 something."

— Tags and Warnings: Porn Without Plot

Easy Alpha by interropunct (Teen - 4.6k)

Easy A/Teen Wolf AU. Wherein, Derek Hale is the high school hussy, Jackson and Scott really need to learn to use their inside voices. And, contrary to popular belief, everyone is still a virgin.

— Tags and Warnings: AU: High School, Fake/Pretend Relationship

You Had Me Since by Emela (Explicit - 5.1k)

“Would it help if I blew you?” “What?” Derek sputters. There is no way he heard that right. No way would Stiles Stilinski be asking him if he wanted a- “Blow job.” That.

— Tags and Warnings: AU: Hight School, AU: Humans, Virgin!Derek, Light D/s, Love Confessions, Porn Without Plot

Worth the Wait to Give You My Heart by secondstar (Teen  6.3k)

All of Derek's memories surrounding his birthday were of his family, of their deaths. After leaving Beacon Hills, he thought the past was behind him; until he and Stiles began exchanging SnapChats.

— Tags and Warnings: Fluff and Angst

An (im)Perfect System by theroguesgambit (Teen - 7.9k)

Stiles has always felt pretty lucky about his soul mark. After all, how many conversations tend to start with “This is private property”?

(Apparently more than you'd think.)

— Tags and Warnings: AU: Soulmates, Misunderstandings, Fluff and Angst

Lovebitten by LunaCanisLupus_22 (Mature - 10k)

The one where Derek gets bitten by a lovebug and Stiles is the first person he lays eyes on. Hilarity ensues.

— Tags and Warnings: Dubious Consent, Crack

Sex Shoes by theroguesgambit (Explict - 10k)

Ground rules: Just once, just to get it out of their systems, and they can never, ever tell anyone. Simple, right?

...Once definitely isn't gonna be enough.

Tags and Warnings: Underage (17), Porn with a Little Plot

Unwind by coffeeinallcaps for bleep0bleep (Explicit - 15k)

Hope you enjoy your present, the text from Erica says. Payment’s taken care of. You can thank me tomorrow.

“So you’re a werewolf, huh,” the guy says when Derek looks up at him again. His gaze drifts down from Derek’s face to the rest of his body, slowly, shamelessly. When it’s traveled back up and their eyes meet again, the corner of the guy’s mouth twitches up into a cocky little half-smile. “I fucking love working with werewolves.” AU in which businessman Derek falls in love with escort Stiles.

— Tags and Warnings: AU: Werewolves Are Known, Escort!Stiles, Businessman!Derek, Explicit Sexual Content, Panic Attacks, Emotional Hurt

Regression to the Mean by theroguesgambit (Mature - 16k)

In the aftermath of 3B, Stiles and Derek learn to trust, learn to fuck, and learn to love themselves, each other, and their pack.

— Tags and Warnings: AU: Canon Divergence, Derek and Stiles have PTSD, Pack Feels, Healing

The Love You Save (May Be Your Own) by Nokomis (Teen - 17k) 

Everyone falls magically in love with Stiles. Well, except for Derek, who is suspiciously immune.

— Tags and Warnings: Love Potion/Spell, Misunderstandings

Don't Worry Baby by kalpurna (Explicit - 20k)

"You know you're allowed to ask for vanilla sex, right?" he says, afterwards. "We can do whatever you want. That's kind of the point."

Derek doesn't respond.

— Tags and Warnings: Prostitute!Stiles, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Knotting, Impregnation Kink, Pining, Possessive Behavior

Inevitable You by Red_City (Mature - 22k)

"I'm Derek's mate," Stiles gets out, breathing hard. There is silence in the room.

As he looks around, he realizes that everyone else knew.

— Tags and Warnings: AU: Canon Divergence, Canon Typical Violence, Werewolf!Stiles, Beta Derek, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst and Smut, Kidnapping

Werewolf-Friendly by badwolfbadwolf (Explicit - 27k)

Derek is a junior in college, never could get the hang of social interaction, and is, you know, a werewolf. A werewolf and a virgin. And it isn’t like anyone is banging down his door to hop on his werewolf dick, save for the few pervs who acted like he was some kind of exotic toy to be played with and experienced. So, when he sees Stiles' ad on Hot Men 4 Rent, Derek is... interested.

— Tags and Warnings: AU: College, AU: Werewolves Are Known, Virgin!Derek, Escort!Stiles, Light D/s, Possessive Behavior, Angst with a Happy Ending

One Door Closes by KouriArashi (Explicit - 27k)

Derek knows that Stiles is too young for him, but Stiles doesn't agree. Eight years after Derek rejects him due to the age gap, they meet again where Derek has settled in Wyoming as a ranch hand, and Stiles is the new deputy, and still pissed as hell about the way Derek turned him down. Things don't go as either of them planned.

— Tags and Warnings: Angst, Misunderstandings, Age Gap

But, Doctor! by stilinskisparkles (Mature - 30k)

“We had to splint a girl’s leg in a ditch,” Scott says excitedly.

“Bro, you sound way too happy about that,” Stiles complains, opening up his bag and pulling out a Twinkie.

Derek removes it from his hand silently and replaces it with an apple. Stiles scowls at him for a second then bites into it, regardless. Derek sits back and lets the group discuss the merits of dramatic lifesaving feats for winning over the ladies. Scott is convinced it’ll help impress Allison; Isaac thinks Scott’s a loser. Stiles—

Stiles is falling asleep on Derek’s shoulder.

— Tags and Warnings: Fluff and Angst, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles

Pretty Melody by thepsychicclam (Explicit - 30k)

Stiles hasn't seen Derek in six years, so when he shows up at the bar where Stiles works, claiming to be some indie rock star, Stiles can't believe it. Stiles has even more trouble believing that he and Derek are about to have a one night stand.

Soon one night turns into two and three, and seeing Derek causes old wounds to open for Stiles. As Stiles reconnects with Derek, he finds himself painting things he's been avoiding, and he thinks maybe he'll finally start to heal.

— Tags and Warnings: AU: Canon Divergence, Musician Derek, Artist & Bartender Stiles, Fluff and Angst, Past Character Death, Future Fic, Grief/Mourning

🔒DILF by twentysomething  (Explicit - 30k)

"Today is Scott's first day of kindergarten and Derek is terrified."

— Tags and Warnings: AU: Human, Single Parent Derek, Teacher Sties

(not so) Pure Imagination by theroguesgambit (Explicit - 33k)

"There is a world where whenever someone fantasizes about you, you can physically feel it, but you have no idea who is thinking it about you."

Stiles knows it's wrong, but he's been Fantasizing about Derek and he can't bring himself to stop. Derek doesn't know who's taken an interest in him, but he's enjoying it way more than he probably should.

— Tags and Warnings: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Anonymous Sex, Slight Dubcon Themes

🔒 Practice Makes Perfect by blacktofade  (Explicit - 33k)

In his sophomore year, Stiles gets dragged to lacrosse tryouts by Scott and ends up practicing alongside the senior captain, Derek Hale. Stiles just wants to live long enough to become a junior.

— Tags and Warnings: Underage, AU: High School & College, AU: Humans, Loss of Virginity

Come with Me and Walk the Longest Mile by DevilDoll (Explicit - 39k)

"Stiles shouldn't accept rides from werewolves he meets behind abandoned convenience stores." In which the zombie apocalypse is just one of their worries.

— Tags and Warnings: Underage, AU: Zombies Post-Apocalypse, Canon-Typical Violence, Mating/Heat Cycles

I’d lie by dereksstilinski (greyslittlediaries) (Explicit - 44k)

Derek has already typed the entire report out and even got all of the stuff prepared for the poster that Stiles and him will have to present. Derek found that he actually didn’t mind doing all the work when it was Stiles he was doing it for, but he wasn’t going to let Stiles get away completely. He was going to get Stiles to come over and help with the poster, so help him god.

— Tags and Warnings: AU: High School, AU: Human, AU: No Hale Fire Jock! Stiles, Nerd! Derek, POV Alternating, Pining, Underage Drinking, First Time, Slow Build, Kate Argent

Versus by secondstar (Explict - 94k)

At age nineteen, Stiles Stilinski was the next big thing, according to The Guardian. It was surreal, not being able to turn on Sky Sports without hearing his name mentioned along with the names of players he grew up idolizing. Stiles couldn’t believe that this was his life.

— Tags and Warnings: Derogatory and Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, Homophobia, Coming Out