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yelenasdiary · 2 years

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Restless Nights

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Reader

Summary: When Yelena goes on a mission you struggle to fill in the days she’s gone.

Fluff | 1.4K |

Translation: detka (baby), lyubov' (love), printsessa (princess)

AC: I wish to write more Yelena so here’s a little idea I had, enjoy!!

“Be safe, okay?” you say to Yelena while she hugs you tightly. “I always am” she replies with confidence, her accent thick. “I mean it Elena” you spoke in a more serious tone. “Shush detka, you know I will” Yelena whispers to you, assuring she’ll be safe.

“Break it up you two, we have to go” Natasha interrupts the moment. You rolled your eyes at Natasha once Yelena let you out of her protective hold. “A week and I’ll be home, it’ll go so fast you won’t even know I’m gone” Yelena smiles, placing a kiss on your forehead. You give her a soft smile. If only she knew how you filled the days she was gone.

You watched as Yelena followed Nat onto the quinjet with the rest of the team, you waved them off before making your way to through the compound to your car. Driving back to the apartment you shared with Yelena in silence.

When you got home you did a quick tidy up of the mess Yelena felt behind while making sure she had everything for the mission. The smell of her perfume still lingered strongly throughout the apartment, making tonight easier on you than most. You ordered take out, something you rarely did when Yelena was home. You always cooked for her, showing her new recipes and then weeks later she’d have a go at cooking something you taught her. With your take out and a thick blanket you got comfortable on the sofa and started to catch up on the shows you’d been waiting to watch.

Whenever Yelena was home, most of the time was spent together. Yelena was still learning how to be herself, finding what she liked to do and what she didn’t, what brought her comfort and what didn’t. She always made it clear that you always brought her happiness and safety. She refused to take dating advice from Natasha as she wanted to ‘wow’ you herself, without help and that she did.

At first, when you first met Yelena, you thought she was cocky and overconfident, you bickered with her multiple times whenever she would join movie nights at Kate’s. Kate is your best friend, and she has taken great pride in match making you and Yelena.

Your first night with Yelena was spent on the sofa, passing out midway through an episode of Grey’s Anatomy, awoken by the sound of the early morning city traffic making it’s way through the window you left open mistakenly. You sighed to yourself once you notice, hearing Yelena already giving you a lecture about how unsafe it was to leave windows open overnight.

Yelena is extremely protective of you, rightful so. If anybody laid a hand on you it was off with their head, no questions asked. You loved and but also struggled with that side of Yelena, sometimes whenever Kate would drag the two of you out for some fun and you got some unwanted attention, Yelena was there, standing beside you with looks that could kill. You had to tell everything was okay and that there was no need to be so headstrong.

Throwing out the empty take out boxes, you made yourself a coffee and showered only to get into a fresh set of PJs. Bored soon kicked in after you finished the episodes you hadn’t seen. With a sigh and a scan around the living room you randomly decided to rearrange the furniture, this was something you did often, and it would always leave Yelena stubbing her toe as she tried to make her way to the bedroom.

Before you knew it, dinner time creeped around. By now, you’ve rearranged the entire apartment almost then decided you hated the new look and moved everything back. Take out for dinner once again, ordering a little extra than you normally would just so you could have leftovers tomorrow. Your phone rang as you waited for the delivery of your food to arrive, with a smile you answered happily. “Elena!” you spoke.

“Hey lyubov'” Yelena’s voice made you smile wider.

“How’s the mission?” you asked, trying to cover the slight clinginess you had for Yelena.

“I want it to be over sooner but it’s looking like I’ll be here for the whole week” Yelena explained. You sighed to yourself knowing you still had 6 days without her. “You haven’t rearranged the apartment again have you detka?” she added.

“No? of course not, I’d never do such a thing” you said in a playful tone.

“Detka we spoke about this” Yelena chuckled.

“Okay but I moved everything back to it’s original place because I hated the new look” you argued.

“So you wasted the whole day moving our apartment around just to put it all back to how it was?”

“Don’t act surprised, I was and still am extremely bored. I’ve already caught up on all my shows and I’m struggling to find a decent movie to watch and I’m pretty sure that it’s suppose to rain all through the week so I’m basically house bound and you’re not here sooooo” you blabbered.

“Why don’t you get Kate over? Have a sleepover party or whatever it is she’s tried to get me to do”

“You’d love our little parties, give them a chance one day”

“Yeah detka, I love you but I don’t want any vegetables covering my eyes while you pluck hair from my eyebrows” Yelena laughed to at the idea.

“One day my love, it’ll happen one day!” you replied.

“I’m sorry to keep this short little lyubov' but I have to go, I just wanted to call and make sure you were okay”

“It’s okay baby, my dinner is about to arrive anyways” you played off your disappointment.

“Promise to close the damn window before you go to bed?”

“Ho-“ you foze, looking at the still opened winow “how did you know?”

“It’s you”

“Fair!”

“I love you, I’ll call again whenever I can”

“I love you too” you smiled before hearing the sound of her ending the call. You sighed and placed your phone on the coffee table in front of you, clicking through the Netflix suggestions before hearing a knock on the door. Your food had finally arrived.

The rest of the week was about the same. You did some online shopping, read a book or two, watched a few too many movies, did a little spring cleaning of your wardrobe, Kate dragged you out of the apartment a couple of times for lunch or a morning jog but you hadn’t heard from Yelena. She was due home tomorrow afternoon, you made sure the apartment was fresh and clean, all the takeout boxes thrown away and the fridge stocked with new ingredients for when Yelena returned.

Sleeping was the worst part of Yelena being away. You barely slept and whenever you did, it was full of consistent moving around, huffing and puffing, throwing the covers off before pulling them back over your body, drinking half a bottle of water then the need to use the toilet was strong enough to wake you.

Tonight was the worst it’s been. Yelena’s perfume no longer lingered; her side of the bed left untouched while loud cracks of thunder stopped you from falling asleep. You hated when the thunder got louder, you tried to remember when Yelena would hold you extra tight whenever she was home and there was a thunderstorm. She’d whisper sweet nothings to you while you feel into slumber. But tonight? You were on your own. Laying on your side looking at the photo of you and Yelena that sat happily on your bedside table you whispered, wished she’d come home.

Yelena quietly unlocked the door to the apartment, placing her travel bag on the sofa before throwing her vest over the armrest. She shook her head as she saw you’d forgotten to close the window once again. She closed it without a sound before making her way to the bathroom and having a shower. The sound of the thunderstorm drained out any sounds as you tossed and turned in your sleep, ignoring the thunder so you could sleep.

Yelena smiled softly to herself as she stood in the door way of the bedroom wrapped in a towel watching you trying to make yourself comfortable. She grabbed some fresh PJs, the time on the antilog clock on her beside table reading “3:48am” when slid into bed. You felt her wrap an arm around you and pull her close into her.

“El…Elena?” you questioned tiredly.

“Shhh detka, go back to sleep” she whispered, kissing the back of your neck softly.

“You’re home” you mumbled, sinking into her hold. She hushed you once more as you placed your hand on the arm she had wrapped around you. “I’m here printsessa” she whispered before the two of you fell asleep.

#yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #black widow #hawkeye #marvel #fanfiction

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cookerypokery · 1 year

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I Thought I Was Ruined

We all have a dark side, but most days I am pure angel. So it came as a surprise when I became my own inverse. For four days, I hated food.

It all started when I decided to go shopping on an empty stomach. I drove to the Chinese store. I piled my cart high with daikon, fish cake, bok choy, fresh shiitake mushrooms, tofu. And as I turned the corner to stand in line for checkout, I decided I needed a snack. I’m not talking some cookie-cake you use to distract children. I wanted something you could hang a skeleton on. So I wheeled my cart back around and bought half a cooked chicken.

This chicken had a name. “Scallion Oil Chicken.” “葱油鸡”。It had the model good looks of any Cantonese charcuterie. Plump, juicy meat. Glossy, perfect skin. In fact, the skin was a golden yellow, which Cantonese-style chicken often is. I don’t know how they do it, and it’s probably just food coloring, but humans wear makeup too to look more enticing, so who am I to judge?

[An Internet photo of the chicken -- not what I ate.]

I thought, very briefly, about driving the 15 minutes home and eating it on a plate in my kitchen. I decided against it and scarfed it in my car. I didn’t eat all of it. Half a chicken in one sitting is too much for one person who sits all day for a living. But I ate strategically: some thigh, some breast, the drumstick. I even had the discipline to eat some of that dreaded back meat because you never want be stuck with only back meat for leftovers. After I finished it, I wiped my hands on some napkins that a wise person (likely Rebekah, given how much she prioritizes clean hands more than I do) placed in my glove compartment.

I didn’t know it then, but that chicken was the Trojan horse that would be my downfall.

I got food poisoning. Or a stomach bug. Or stomach flu. These are imprecise words for the mess than ensued, as I had no formal diagnosis. But I had the symptoms, and because Cookery Pokery has already been reported once for graphic content, I am not going to describe it for you. The one thing I will report is that when I first started to feel disgusting, the first thing I did was stick a meat thermometer in my mouth because I didn’t know where the body thermometer was. The meat thermometer was not precise enough to take my temperature, but I later learned that I had a fever of 101 degrees.

My lifelong love affair with food also fell apart. On the first day, all I could eat was a few bites of boiled apple, a sippy cup’s worth of plain rice congee, and a bite of banana. I didn’t want smells or textures or flavors. Food was a barbaric army invading my land, and I just wanted peace.

Rebekah made me a hard-boiled egg with a jammy yolk, and it was like masticating caulk. As she delivered me progressively blander foods to my bedside, I croaked to her, “Did you throw out the chicken?” To which she would say, “Not yet,” and I would shiver feverishly.

I tried to distract myself from the roiling battle in my gut by looking at my phone, to realize that 90 percent of my Instagram feed featured cooking-related accounts. Everything looked absolutely disgusting. One particularly memorable post was a close-up of a steaming hot fresh-baked pepperoni pizza, with cheese still bubbling and beads of grease collecting on the sausage. It violated me to the core. Even still, over the next few hours I kept reflexively opening the Instagram app in pursuit of the dopamine hit it usually delivered. But my online feeds were tailored to a self that no longer existed. I grimaced and buried my phone in the blankets.

In physics class, I learned that our hearing is logarithmic. This means that we are more sensitive to the fluctuations in quiet sounds – for example, you can discern whether a cricket is louder than a whisper more easily than you can discern whether a trumpet is louder than violin. My taste buds, too, felt logarithmic. I became unbearably conscious of subtle changes in taste and flavor and texture. It was all disgusting.

But day by day, I found myself able to look at, and stomach, more foods. I impressed myself when I ate an entire unripe banana. (To avoid flavor.) I impressed myself more when later I ate another banana that was actually ripe. I ate several jammy hard-boiled eggs, with soy sauce. The breakthrough was when I ate some mustard stem pickles, which my mom used to give me when I was sick, with my congee. Then I ate miso soup, with tofu and daikon and udon noodle.

“I threw away the chicken,” Rebekah reported. My heart leapt. “But,” I said, “Is it still in the house?”

“Nope,” Rebekah said. “I took it straight to the Dumpster.”

I rejoiced. I may have fallen, but that chicken was no match for my reinforcements.

But progress was slow. Before a conflict peaks, it can feel like it will never end. I wanted resolution. I wanted to know that I could look at a medium rare prime rib and salivate again, out of desire and not in preparation for vomiting.

I am still convalescing, so I can’t write the ending to this post. You’ll have to fill in that last major chord yourself. What else do you want from me? I’m sick.

#identitycrisis

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cesium-sheep · 7 months

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she got up to sleep in the living room before I'd even finished the work I wanted to do before bed, so I cleared out as fast as I could while she went back to a darker room to wait (which isn't super fast cuz I was in the middle of shit). I know it has nothing to do with me but everything else is such a mess that I do worry a tiny bit that she just hates being around me. that they both do tbh. I'm not able to do anything fun or affectionate and I'm even more work than usual (or at this point "previous" may be more accurate than "usual"), and they both seem to get irritated with me often over base traits they knew about going in, in that kind of passive aggressive way that's way worse for me than just verbally slugging it out because at least that way is honest. but if they hated being around me it's real easy for them to be elsewhere either independently or together, and they still come sit with me on the couch without me asking even when they're really sleepy and try to make sure I have fresh water and food that I like and stuff like that. it's not their fault it was already made so easy for me to feel like an inconvenience (and to feel like being an inconvenience is sufficient grounds for discarding me).

I did get to tell her earlier about the rest of the stuff I'd been holding onto to talk about, but I promised it would be short and I can't tell if she actually understood me without digging so I don't actually feel better about that yet either.

#also if she was avoiding me she wouldn't've come out while the lights were still on #so it's definitely clear this time.

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imthebadguyyy · 3 years

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Loved your first fic of Lewis!💛

Can you make one where Lewis Hamilton and Y/N have a fight and have been living separately and then Lewis comes to meet Y/N one evening and makes an excuse that his toothbrush is with Y/N? And then Lewis confronts Y/N that he knows Y/N still love him but won't admit?

* I know this is a very specific prompt. Bare with me. I just wanted more Angst/ Fluff with Longing for each other and Deep feelings and keep it Non-explicit. *

A/N - I'm so glad you liked the fic 😊

We're Meant To Be

Pairing - Lewis Hamilton x Reader (female)

Fandom - F1

Summary - After a messy fight, you don't know where your relationship stands. But when love is that strong, an argument can't stand in the way.

Warnings - Angst, fighting, swearing

Angered shouts. Tears of frustration. White noise. Desperate pleads. And then silence. That's what your neighbours would describe if they were asked to describe what they had heard from your house. An argument that seemed to have started over nothing, had blown up into a full scale fight. When had it become this bad? Only yesterday, you two had had a date night at home, with movies and wine. Everything was perfect. But then, suddenly everything seemed to go down a downward spiral.

Your relationship with your boyfriend had always been calm, it had been the type of love where you just loved each other with all your hearts, where fights were an incredibly rare appearance. You were both working, and he was away at races most of the time, so usually, you didn't waste time fighting, something that was an unnecessary waste of time in your opinion. But then, something had just switched for a second. It was after the race in Baku, and it hadn't gone well. Lewis had been heartbroken, after coming P15, and had heavily berated himself for it. To make him feel better, you had taken a couple of days off work. to just be with him and give him company to feel better.

It had been on the third day of you spending time with him that he had made an offhand comment that had struck a nerve with you. "I wish you could be there at race weekends more often. It's like you don't care enough about the races" The comment had pissed you off, to put it lightly. "What do you mean, I don't care about the races? I watch all of them Lewis, I'm always supporting you" you had practically seethed at him. "Don't get all huffy, darling, all I'm saying is that the other girlfriends and wives come quite often, but you only come to like three races a year" he had said, already regretting his words. "Maybe that's because I have a job?! I work for my living, and I love my job. I don't have time to fly around the world to accompany you to your races, and its damn hard to get leave off of work anyway, I was lucky to even get a week off of work, and you want me to be there every weekend? It's not possible for a working person, Lewis" you had said, anger bubbling in your voice, pulling away from him to sit up straight. "I know, I just meant-" "No, I know what you meant. I'm sorry I can't always be there, and don't you think I feel bad when I can't be there for you ?" "I know you do, I shouldn't have brought this up. But can you come for the next race?" He had asked, not looking at your eyes, regretting the answer. "I... can't. I have a really big meeting coming up and-" "And you can't come I get it"

And he had just left. You had felt your heart shatter, hating yourself for being so harsh with him. But it was true, you were a very hardworking person, and you had worked damn hard to get to where you were, successful at your job, one of the best in your field. It took years of hard work and perseverance and you were proud of it. But a part of you also knew that Lewis didn't deserve any of the crap you had given him, and you also knew that he was right, the other guys had their partners to support them during various race weekends, and you only showed up to one or two of them. He was well in his rights to tell you that. And you hated how it had ended.

You all alone, in your house, in a cold and empty bed, in a quiet house with silence that was much, much more deafening than words ever could be. It was heartbreaking, to see a future you had dreamed of just shattering in front of your eyes, dreams of having a family of your own with him fluttering away like wisps of smoke, the burning flames leaving only a heartbroken mess of a human being behind. Was that what it felt like? To be burned and left to turn to ashes, when a person that knew exactly how to ignite your flame just left you to burn away? To have someone who could ignite your all consuming passion, and turn you to putty in his hands, who could mould you back into shape, leave you to melt into a liquid through his fingers to just lay on the ground, a sad, broken, person.

And here you were, lying on your bed, the sheets that had warmed the both of you on cold nights, or been home to your pleasure laced activities now offering only some of the warmth it used to, cold and unforgiving, as you turned your pillow for the fifteenth time, neither side cool anymore. Even the pillow didn't want to forgive you, the sweat settling in on your neck again, beads of sweat running down your forehead again. The pulled curtains shielded you from the over bright sunshine, your damp hair sticking to your shoulders and neck. Your eyes, red rimmed and tired, shut to protect them from the faint light in the room, the tiredness not permitting you to even open them to look in the dim light of your room.

Somewhere near you, your phone buzzed again, for what felt like the hundredth time in three days. It had been three days, three long, painful days since you and Lewis had fought and not seen each other, and those 72 hours had ripped a part of your soul out. You had spent those three days in bed, your leave days still saving you from getting out of bed and dragging your body to office. Was your relationship over? Were you never going to meet the love of your life, the man you were destined to be with again? Sighing, you rolled over, pushing the damp strands of hair away from your face. Using strength you didn't know you had, you pulled yourself up, feeling your head spin.

Slowly, you made yourself walk into the kitchen, grabbing a piece of bread and popping it into the toaster. Then you splashed some water on your tired face, shuffling over to the bathroom to brush your teeth. After finishing your toast, you peeled off the sweaty shirt you had pulled on when he had left, realising with a pang that it was Lewis's nightshirt you were wearing, a purple one he loved. Dropping it into the laundry basket, you turned on the shower, stepping under the warm shower. The warm spray untangled the knots in your matted hair, as you soaped your body and hair, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks as memories of your showers together with Lewis came flooding back, as heartbroken sobs wracked your form again.

An hour after the not so great shower, you found yourself in another shirt belonging to Lewis, the bed in fresh sheets and covers, your pillow finally cool on both sides. You were clean and refreshed, albeit heartbroken, waiting on your takeout Chinese food and ice cream. Just as you lay there, scrolling through your Netflix account to watch some episode of FRIENDS to help you keep your spirits up, the doorbell rang. The thought of flavourful Chinese food and ice cream was enough to lure you out of your bed again, bare feet padding across the wooden floor to go to the door. You grabbed your wallet, opening the door, to find not your dinner, but Lewis, at the door, in one of your favourite sweatshirts on him. Did the clothes make you feel better? No. In fact, it just shattered your heart further.

"What are you doing here?" was the predictable line that left your lips. "I um, I left my toothbrush at your place. Can I have it back?"

"I beg your pardon? You left your toothbrush? You came back for a toothbrush, but not for me? Is that all I mean to you?!" you said, anger and a hint of sadness creeping into your tone. "You do mean a lot to me" he replied in a sigh. "Look, I didn't actually leave my toothbrush. That was a lie, and wow, I'm just realising how stupid that sounded, I'm sorry" His words were met with silence. The sadness in your eyes said it all. You were upset. Of course you were. "I don't have any toothbrushes except mine, so please leave" Before you could shut the door in his face, he pushed it back open, stepping into the house on his own.

"No do not come in here, please just get out!"

"No" was his frustrating reply. "What do you mean no? I said get out of my house!" "Not until we stop fighting and talk about what the hell happened!" Lewis yelled back, matching your tone. "Why the hell do you care?!" "Because I still love you damn it, I always have, and this stupid fight cannot, and should not break us apart!"

Your burst into tears. Sliding down against the wall, you buried your face in your hands, the sweatshirt arms covering your face as you sobbed. In an instant, Lewis was walking across to you, strong muscled arms wrapping around your shaking frame. "I'm sorry" you managed to blubber out, "I thought it over, and I don't go to support as often as I feel I should, and I'm sorry"

"No my darling, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said all that to you. You work so hard baby, and I'm so proud of you. And I know that you try to come whenever you can, and I love you so much for that. I'm sorry, and I never shouldv'e asked you to prioritize my passion over yours" rubbing your shoulders softly, he let his chin rest on top of yours. Sniffling, you let your head rest on his shoulder. The soft hiccups that left your lips broke his heart even further, something he hadn't thought possible.

The last 3 days had been pure hell for him. He had missed you, God, he had missed you. He had missed having you in his bed in the morning, tracing patterns on your bare skin. He had missed leaving kisses on your soft cheeks and hands and on your cute nose, missed smiling against your skin as you giggled. He had missed you playing with Roscoe, the doggo following the both of you around the house. Even Roscoe had missed you, sniffing around the house for your familiar smell, cocking his ears up and looking at his dad questioningly.

He had missed your perfume, the scent filling his senses, intoxicating him in the best way possible. He missed you curling up to him, playing with his hair or tracing his tattoos, leaving little kisses around the compass tattoo, tracing his 'Still I Rise' tattoo, missing the goosebumps that would rise on his skin when you traced Michelangelo's Pieta on his skin, and kissed the family and faith tattoos on his sternum. He missed you everywhere, and it had taken three days for him to realize that your presence grounded him. Your presence was something he needed, not to survive, he had done that before, he needed you for his happiness.

And having you in his arms, crying over what he had said? It shattered his heart. And he wanted to just fix everything, to bring everything back to normal. Stroking your hair softly, he kept his lips pressed to your ear, whispering soft "I love you's" and "I'm so sorry baby's" and "I'm here for you's" into your ear, feeling his heart lighten ever so softly when your sniffles decreased and your grip on yourself relaxed.

Moving up to meet his eyes, you moved so you were at eye level with him. "So we're both idiots who are sorry?" You murmured, running your hand up to his collarbone. With a soft laugh, he nodded taking your hand into his, rubbing his thumb over yours. "Fighting sucks" he mumbled pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "It really does" your replied, moving so you were straddling his waist. "Let's never do that again, and let's just make a schedule. We can figure out when you can come and visit me, and I'll just deal with the fact that my ethereal girlfriend won't grace the race tracks every race weekend-" "It all sounds lovely but all I want right now is your lips on mine" you interrupted, bringing a smirk to his lips.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to yours, hand moving to maneuver your head closer to his, your hands moving up to cup his cheek, as your traced his jawline, his thumb running over your waist. Breaking apart softly, he let his forehead rest on yours. "I love you" he whispered softly. "I love you too" you mumbled back. Before he could lean back in, the doorbell rang again.

"Damn it. That's my chinese food and ice cream" you sighed, smiling when he laughed. "Was it that bad?" He asked, letting you get up to open the door. "Like you wouldn't believe it"

After getting the food and paying for it, you set two plates on the table and put enough on your plates. "You know what the worst part was about fighting?" "What was?" "Not waking up to you tracing my tattoos" "Aww that's what you missed?" You giggled, walking up to kiss the tattoos on his hands. "I really did. You're cute and adorable and you're all mine. That's why I don't wanna fight. Let's keep it that way" "I love you so much" "I love you too"

***

A/N - I'm so, so sorry I took so long to write this, I really suck at angst, and I hope this is what you wanted, the last thing I want to do is give you subpar work 😭😭

Anyways, have a great day 💙

#lewis hamilton #f1 #formula 1 #sir lewis hamilton #sir lewis #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton blurb #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #f1 drivers x reader #f1 drivers imagines

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jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue · 3 years

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Our little love part 2 - mafia/yandere au Drabble {angst + fluff}

As always please let me know what you think, I am actually going to go to bed now my brain is angry with me for not sleeping.

It seemed the cycle was never ending, you fucking up and pissing them off, them punishing you by drowning you in their love, only letting you come up to breathe so you could swim in your own guilt and submit to them.

You wince as the victim to your latest fuck up gets another blow to his chest. Taehyung and Hobi held onto his arms as Jungkook and Jimin kick and punch the poor individual. You know not to speak, it’ll only make things worse. Temperament was a fickle thing in their lives, trust was everything, and you still had to build yours up again.

“Y/n help please,” Kai whimpers as you stood with your arms crossed looking away.

“Don’t fucking say her name,” Jungkook growled before punching your ex colleague in the face. You’re frowning, the need to beg them to stop was fighting for exit on the top of your tongue, but you bite it down and pray Kai doesn’t say another word. You know if you do as he asks they’d kill him. Your punishment was to watch silently.

Yoongi strolls up behind you, hands in his pockets before he rests his head on your shoulder, watching the display in front of you both.

“Nothing to say little love?” He whispers as your friend groans out in pain.

Please don’t kill him, you want to say, but you just shake your head in defeat. You want to believe they’re better than this, but the evidence of the contrary was never hidden from you. They showed you every side of them whether proud of it or not with bold eyes daring you to stop loving them, pushing your boundaries and morals waiting for you to snap. But the breaking point never came, you loved them, you shouldn’t and you knew it, but you did. You were completely and utterly theirs, yet still they treated you like you hadn’t seen the worst of them. Like you would run away the second you realised they were monsters, not that they would let you run far, only far enough to let you take a single breath before making you drown in them once again.

Yoongi wraps his arms around your waist, keeping an eye on your reactions. The asshole deserved it, not that they cared either way, he tried to take you away from them, that was enough.

Kai was your old partner before you took a very early retirement, what you didn’t know was that he continued the case you were working on before you left; the case of the seven men you now loved and the reason you quit said job. He had called you to meet up for old times sake and you, very naively in Yoongi’s mind, decided it was harmless. But if it was harmless why didn’t you say anything to the boys? You thought Kai didn’t know the reason you handed in your resignation, but he had been keeping an eye on you all before he realised you were the key to their downfall. He knew you harboured some feeling for him in the past and thought you’d reciprocate when he tried to flirt his way into getting his hands on the evidence you collected, he didnt know you burned it all. You lied to him and said you lost it, same difference anyway. This prompted plan b from him.

“Y/n they’re criminals,” he had said to you. “You’re a cop at heart you can’t love them.”

You floundered at his words when you realised he knew, and yet he still asked you to betray them.

“Kai I think I need to go...”

It was a mistake, you knew it then, but he followed you out onto the street and you hoped tonight the men you loved weren’t keeping an eye on you. Maybe naive was an understatement.

“Are they coercing you Y/n! Do they have something on you or are they threatening you?” He calls after you. “Because the Y/n I know would never love killers, what have they done to you?”

It was when he reached his hand out to grab your arm that your boyfriends decided to show themselves from the shadows. Which lead to the situation now, Kai beat up and bruised beyond recognition, and you forced to watch. He falls unconscious and they let him drop to the floor, you hate this side of them, it was cruel and cold but you’d never leave. They turn to face you now, their anger still present despite the last hour of releasing it onto your old partner. They don’t miss the way you’re shaking, the shallow breaths as you try and keep your tears to yourself. As much as you hate their violence, you hate their disappointment in you more.

——————————————————————————

You’re sitting in Joonie’s lap for what you call the debriefing of your punishment, this happened way too often in your opinion. You look down but he wasn’t having it today, tilting your head to look at him by your chin.

“Why did you get punished today little love?” He starts the same way as usual.

“I went out without telling you guys where I was going or who with,” you say while fiddling with your fingers out of nervous habit.

“And?” Hobi sits across from you in a chair, legs straddling the back and an elbow rested on top with his fist holding up his face. Hobi was hardest to pacify, he was ruthless and unforgiving and while that didn’t extend to you, you still had a hard time with his stubborn anger.

“I met up with Kai, and I let him touch me,” you’ve done this too many times before to not know how it worked. Kai’s ‘touch’ obviously meant nothing to you but for them it was the worst crime anyone could commit against their little love.

You remember the time you nearly tripped in the park and a guy steadied you politely, but you still had to hold Jungkook back from throwing hands.

“Kookie would you rather I fell and hurt myself?” No he hadn’t wanted that so he grumbled in agreement still seething but you cooled it down. “Instead of hitting him maybe you should thank him,” it was a joke but it made the youngest scoff.

“Baby girl why can’t you just be good?” Namjoon’s sigh brings you back to the present. “Why do you always have to test us like this?”

You didn’t mean to, you want to say it but the words are stuck below the sob in your throat. You actually whimper as his tone, bottom lip wobbling pathetically. He hadn’t even told you off properly, but you already felt like a mess as he bathed you in his disappointment. That was the common consequence of your actions and you hated it, you couldn’t do anything right.

——————————————————————————

“Jin do you need help with the food?” You ask your eldest boyfriend politely, he was frowning and you thought it was because today’s meal was too much for him to handle alone, his tone of voice made you realise it was because of you.

“No, I’m alright,” he doesn’t look at you as he speaks and you’re left gaping at him like a fish. Jin loved it when you cooked with him, it was your bonding time without the others, although Yoongi would join you from time to time. The others also tried but Jin wouldn’t let them anywhere near the kitchen, they hogged you enough anyway.

You feel your soul deflate, still standing there as he ignored you.

“Are you mad at me too?”

The way you said it made his heart twinge with guilt, but the others were right you wouldn’t learn and your first betrayal was still fresh on their minds. He sighs and you turn away, refusing to crying in front of them for the tenth time that day. What was wrong with you? Ever since that day where they found out who you really were you felt like you werent enough anymore, you tried so hard to make up for it all but you kept messing up. You weren’t like this before, but after seeing the hurt you put them through you were constantly on edge and second guessing yourself. You wish you could go back and stop them from ever finding out.

Jin hears the sniffle as you walk away and he can’t go through with it.

“Wait little love,” he calls for you. “I forgot to cut the onions, would you mind?”

You shake your head, you didn’t mind, but you didn’t trust your voice to answer for you. Youre grateful to Jin for giving you this task, it hides the fact you’re crying, but you know he doesn’t miss it.

——————————————————————————

Jimin and Taehyung were giving you narrowed stern gazes through dinner, it put you off your food which resulted in getting told off by Jin just after he branched out to you in the kitchen.

You felt alone, like the seven men you loved were against you and there was no one to blame but yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly before getting up and removing yourself from the dinner table and dining room, ignoring all of their stares. You decide maybe an early night is best, you could start again fresh tomorrow. You don’t get too far up the stairs before a hand pulls you back, you turn to see Jimin with Tae a few steps behind him.

You’re so used to seeing them laugh and play around that it feels like you’re looking at different people. Even during missions or gun fights, the youngest three were always joking their way through the bloodshed, keeping scores of who got the most headshots and other grotesque games. You remember the time Jimin and Tae called you during he middle of a shoot out, arguing with you and each other over who you loved more out of the two while you begged them to not get shot or killed.

“Why did you go see him Y/n?” Jimin asked, he wore the demeanour he used for enemies and it takes you back to that night.

“I... h-he said he wanted to see me to catch up,” you explain but you know it’ll fall on deaf ears.

“And you thought that was a good idea, to see your old cop buddy?” His tone makes you feel stupid, you weren’t stupid.

“He was my friend Jimin,” you say in disbelief, you know in the end it was a mistake but at the time it didn’t seem like the worst idea in the world.

“You’re ours,” Taehyung moved forward, towering over you even though he’s a step below you. His face is close to your own, eyes burning into yours as he looks disgusted at the words that left your mouth as if they’re still attached to you. “How do you think we felt when you went to see another detective? Do you have any idea what was going through our heads?”

“Tae I love you,” you lean away from him, searching his face for a hint of softness and love in his gaze, but there was only fire. “You know I wouldn’t, you all know I wouldn’t, I left that life for you why would I turn back to it?”

He stalks away from you without a word, Jimin close behind, giving you a final cold glance before leaving you alone. You thought your love could make them better but if anything you made their darkness worse.

——————————————————————————

Jungkook needed to vent, the only way he knew how was physically. Obviously it wasn’t the cleverest thing he’s done, taking rounds with the punching bag only to open up the cuts on his hand from beating the bastard earlier. He mutters a few curse words under his breath, why did you make matters worse? Maybe they were being harsh on you before today, finding any excuse to punish you a little, test your boundaries and see if you would run, but today they honestly feared that was what happened. They thought you chose to leave them and go back to the life you had before them, but they’d never let you go, they couldn’t let you go. Despite everything you loved them and they worshipped the ground you walked on. You were everything for them now, there’s be no point to any of them without you. Why didn’t you understand that?

He throws another punch to the bag, spreading his blood across them, it hurt like hell, but the thought of you running back to your old partner still played on all of their minds. He wanted to cry, he wanted to find you and beg you to never leave them, they’d be nothing without you.

There’s a knock on the door and he finds you on the other side, waiting for permission to come in. You never waited for permission, it makes him frown, maybe they were too harsh on you today. He could see you shuffling your weight, insecurity screaming through your eyes, you feared his rejection more than his anger.

He notices the first aid kit in your hand, you must’ve heard him. He doesn’t let the fluttering in his chest reach his face as he sits on the bench, waiting for you to come to him.

His gaze is expectant, daring you to cross the threshold and face him, you were no coward, you didn’t fear them the way others did, why were you behaving so meekly now? You force yourself to move and sit beside him, setting the kit down and pushing your hair back behind your ears. He doesn’t move his gaze away from you, even with the sweat and hair hanging in front of his face.

You carefully take a his hand into yours, sucking air between your teeth at how injured it was.

“I’m sorry you hurt yourself because of me,” you say, eyes on his bloodied knuckle as you press the ointment against the open wounds. “Are you sure you want me to stay, I keep hurting you...”

You try to sound like you’re joking, that you’re okay and the hurt isn’t weighing you down with your doubts. He frowns, they really did take it too far. He sets down the cotton wool from your grasp, taking both of hands into his before kissing each finger delicately without letting you look away.

“You’re perfect little love,” Jungkook says, reassuring you with no question in his voice. “We’re the ones who don’t deserve you, we’re mean and cruel but we’re never letting you go.”

You remember how loving they were before that night, maybe while they accepted the truth at face value they could never really forgive you in their hearts. Maybe that’s why they were being like this, they didn’t love you the same way anymore.

“Do you love me?” You had to know, the doubt was eating you alive.

He looks at you as if you’re insane, maybe you are, you don’t know anymore.

“Little love, don’t you see how much we love you?” He asks sincerely. “We would do anything for that love even if it made you hate us, you belong with us, and no one is going to take you away.”

You could see the crazed look in his face grow as he spoke, you believed him, the honestly worn like a heart on a sleeve. But his answer bought a wave clarity to your hazed vision, you made them like this, you made them worse, you had to leave.

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yuukensblog · 3 years

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Yandere! Draken and Yandere! Inui

⚠️ warning ⚠️: yandere themes, obsessive behavior, abuse, etc (and all of the characters are aged up btw)

Characters: draken, inui, gender neutral reader

Summary: Having been long term friends with draken ever since childhood, and knowing inui from middle school, it has seems that both of these both loving blonde boys had fallen for you. But it seems that they're love for you isn't the normal type. Will you give in to their love?

Struggling to find a job, you start to sob on the side of the road. Your younger sister had been hospitalized for a year and a half now because how bad you both had been abused by your father. It's still fresh in your mind when you struggle to feed your sister when living with your father because he would lock the fridge and wouldn't let you guys eat until he remembered to feed you. You still remember dragging your sister to the hospital after finally running away from 3years of abuse. The guilty feeling of being unless while looking at your sisters poor health.

You needed to find a job soon, the job you previously had fired you because you had to defend yourself from a man that was trying to get at you for messing up his order. It wasn't even your own fault, you were just the cashier' if he had wanted to yell at somone yell at the chiefs you piece of shit' you though to yourself rubbing your now red eyes. You sat on the curb for a while trying to calm yourself down before having to walk back home. You didn't have money to buy a car or had change to spare for the bus. All that money went to your sisters hospital bill. You couldn't eat some days and sleeping a full 8 hours was rare.

You had to leave before the sun sets. This is because you lived in an area full of homeless people and gangs ready to steal from poor people who had just wanted to get to work. As you were heading twords your apartment you hear a roar of a motorcycle. Turning your head twords the loud sound you see inui riding twords you. You and inui were very close friends and had similar interests in motorcycles and games you would both play when it was your free day. And you squinted just a bit more you see draken following close by. Draken felt like family to you, the days were you could get bullied and him being there to protect you, him being there for you when you were in the hospital. Both him and inui were very close to your heart and helped you through these dark times.

Watching them stop at the foot of your feet you greeted them with a small smile. "Hey y/n- what's wrong? Your eyes are all puffy and red..something happen?" Inui said with a small frown and consern tone, "anyone ya want us to beat up this time" draken added in. "I'm fine. I'm just going home fore tonight. Today has been a little rough on me today" you swore that if they kept questioning and pestering you about this, you were going to cry again. draken took noticed of this and then both him and inui offered you a ride. What you didn't know was that it would be your last time you gone outside, had a job, and having to see your sister at the hospital.

After draken and inui had dropped you off at their place you asked them why did they take you here instead of your small rundown apartment? They replied with "well you look like you haven't ate in two days and wanted to treat ya know? And inui unlocking to the door to their shared house they start preparing food.

Knowing them even if you do decline, they would still cook for you and force you to eat it. Sitting on the floor waiting for your food inui said "you should take a shower and sleep over, it's too late for you to go back home." You replied with "are you sure? I don't want to bother you and draken." Draken clocked his head to look at you "yeah stay. I would hate myself if I let you go and only for you to get hurt on the way home. Plus you aren't bothering us we don't see you as often anymore so think about this as a time to catch up ya?" Sighing as you head up stairs to the shower, being oblivious to inui slowly coming up behind you.

After reaching on the top of the stair way that led to the shower your mouth had been covered by large hands and his other hand tight around your neck, you try to fight but you slowly start to pass out due to lack of oxygen...

And then-

(to be continued in part 2 y'all :) hoped you like this. This isn't my first time writing yandere stuff as an ex writer for the genshin fandom but I hope y'all accept me in the TR fandom! I hope to write more yandere fics after this one for y'all!!!)

#yandere tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x reader #yandere draken #inui x y/n #toman draken #yandere #tokyo revengers x y/n #yandere imagines #yandere tr #tokyo revengers

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starlessea · 3 years

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Here Comes the Sun: XII. Highway To Hell (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Series Masterlist: Here Comes the Sun

Summary: Daryl Dixon scares the hell out of you climbing out of that damn creek. It takes hauling his ass halfway across Georgia and taking a bullet for him to realise that you're not half bad. He slowly starts to come around, despite grumbling about how much he doesn't like your singing, or that you can't use a gun for shit - and don't get him started on that ugly yellow tent of yours. It takes him a while before he starts to see for himself that he's found a best friend for life, and that he doesn't actually mind the colour yellow that much, after all.

Words: 7169

Chapter Warnings: Language, Violence.

You held a hand up over your shoulder and crouched down near the door, signalling for Carol to do the same behind you. Your gun was pressed snug between your palms, and your knife hung from your belt in case you needed it. Though, from the looks of the place it seemed pretty secure - if the lock you'd just busted open was anything to go by. The two of you were scavenging and had spotted a small general store, deciding to check it out before heading back to the cabin. The group hadn't eaten anything substantial in days, save for the things Daryl had been hunting. Even then, the harsh winter months made it harder for him to pick up tracks when most animals had better shelter than you all did.

It had been a number of weeks since the farm was overrun, but it almost felt like yesterday. The temperature had dropped to freezing seemingly overnight, making your fortunes that much more cruel. Even now, your breath formed clouds of smoke before your eyes, and the cold felt like it had infiltrated your bones at some point and never left. The tips of your fingers stung as they glowed red, exposed through your fingerless gloves, and you were certain that your nose matched, too. Carol's did, that's for sure.

You gave her a quick nod before kicking in the door harshly with your boot, raising your gun as you entered. The inside was bigger than you were expecting, and it took you a few minutes to clear each aisle for walkers. As you did, you noticed how most supplies were missing from the shelves, having been taken before the place was locked up. Still, Glenn had always drilled into you the first rule of scavenging: 'there's nothing good left in this world that isn't hidden.'

Sending a nod to Carol, you put your gun away in your holster before reminding her to stay alert. The two of you split up as she made her way towards the canned goods sections, hoping to find something there. Ever since you'd been on the road, you and Carol had gotten quite a bit closer. At first, she seemed sceptical of Rick and the whole situation you were forced into, as you all did. Though, after time she seemed to realise that he was the group's best shot. Most days, the two of you made dinner with anything you could find, often supplementing the things you were missing with whatever Daryl had managed to bring home from his hunt. Other times, you went scavenging together, as you did today.

At first, Rick absolutely refused to let anyone split up, and you had to abide by his rule. One time he'd caught you mocking his 'this isn't a democracy' speech to Beth behind his back and you'd had to forfeit your portion of squirrel to the greater good that evening. Daryl sneaked you some of his afterwards, however. Though, Rick quickly began to realise that there was no other choice. Before long, you'd gotten good with a gun; taking down walkers each day had that effect. Soon, you were one of the frontrunners whenever you had a house to clear - often fighting alongside him, Glenn and Daryl.

Now, he was comfortable with you leading a few runs of your own and taking Carol along with you. Glenn and Maggie often went together, too, so that you covered more ground. It wasn't that Rick was comfortable with splitting up the group, you thought; he just didn't have a choice. Lori was nearing her due date and you were all practically living on fresh air, moving from place to place quicker than you had the chance to catch your breath.

You hadn't even had time to settle things with Daryl. You barely saw the man. He'd leave first thing in the morning to look for food, and be back late at night - when most of the group had already fallen asleep. Even then, he often took watch straight after he returned. You could tell how responsible he felt for everyone and you saw the worry in his eyes daily, if the bags under them were anything to go by.

After you had kissed Daryl, back at the farm, you only had one conversation about it. It was a couple of days after you all fled, when you were taking watch with him as the rest of the group were stuck camping under the stars. It was brief, and before that the two of you had already gone back to acting as good friends, like usual. He'd told you that he wasn't good with words, and didn't want to just give you some half-assed response in the midst of struggling to survive the Georgia winter. You agreed, and it was decided then that you'd talk about it later. Yet, later never came.

It had been an unspoken rule between the two of you that everyone's safety was the priority. Though, in truth, you hadn't had a single moment where you felt safe since you left the farm. It seemed almost cruel that immediately after you'd told the man that you wanted to live, rather than just survive, you had been thrust out into the vicious world where that's all you could struggle to do. So, the two of you just existed at the moment.

Some mornings you'd wake up to sound of him leaving, and some evenings he'd be back early enough to share a meal with you. Other than that, you lived for the brief occasions where you'd take watch together, when he'd smoke a cigarette next to you and you'd sit in content silence. Though, sometimes it felt like you were frightened to say anything at all, in case you accidentally blurted out all of your feelings at once. So, the both of you barely talked - waiting for the time when you could actually talk.

You shoved some supplies into your satchel as you scoured the aisles. There wasn't much you could see that hadn't been taken already, but you picked up a few bandaids in case you ever needed them. The only thing you were able to save from the farm was your satchel. Luckily, it already had your polaroids in it and a change of clothes, since you'd been packing to move into the Greenes' farmhouse at the time the horde arrived. Still, there was so much you missed from those days.

You missed the material things, like the comfort you got just from seeing Dale's RV parked by the main camp. You missed the flimsy deck chairs surrounding it, and the big apple trees that gave it shade, and the books you'd borrow from Hershel's library to read when you had lookout duty on top of it. You missed your white dress that smelt like the washing powder that Patricia used - even though you knew it wouldn't have survived long out in these dingy, cold places. You even missed the intangible things, and felt a deep longing of nostalgia for the sounds of the leaves rustling in the breeze or for the sweetness of the air. Those days felt so far away from you now, like the images of them were slipping out of your grasp - like grains of sand before you could catch them.

The things that remained fresh in your mind, however, were the people that you left behind. You missed Patricia and Jimmy and Andrea, and even Shane. As much as that man rubbed you the wrong way, you didn't want to see him die. You didn't want any of them to die. That night was a mess. These days, you often woke up in a cold sweat from the nightmares. Except, this time it was the faces of your family replacing the walkers that usually inhabited them. You missed the people you'd lost and you missed the place that you all thought was home. You also missed Daryl Dixon.

A loud clatter sounded from a few rows over from you, immediately making you thumb over your gun as you stilled in place.

"Carol?" You called over, unable to see her from behind the tall shelves. "Everything alright?"

She responded instantly, and you felt relief wash over you as she did.

"I'm fine. I just dropped a tin." She reassured you, her voice carrying as an echo in the empty store.

You let out a small sigh before continuing with your poor haul. It was times like these that you really felt your mind wander when it shouldn't. You knew that you should always be cautious, since you promised Rick that you'd look out for Carol. Though, quite frankly, you thought that he didn't give her enough credit. That woman was a force to be reckoned with, but not many people had realised it yet. Daryl had. The friendship the two of them shared was really admirable. He'd been the one to search for Sofia, and comfort Carol after the loss of her - and Carol was equally as good for him as he was for her. She'd been able to coax him out of his shell where even you struggled to, and you could see how he'd started to accept his new role within the group because of her.

You just wished, very selfishly, that you could be with him. You understood that he had a job to do now, and how not everyone was able to do the things he did. The group had women and children and older people and a pregnant Lori. You were all running on empty, barely hanging on as it was. Yet, those nights when he'd come back empty-handed, cursing himself under his breath when he thought you were all asleep, made you want to hold him close. You never did, knowing how much Daryl Dixon hated pity from anyone, but the longing was so strong that it made your eyes sting with tears.

Although things weren't awkward between the two of you, you didn't joke around nearly as much as you used to. The atmosphere always felt heavy, as nobody knew when the next meal would come, or how long this place would be safe before you had to move again. As the nights got bitterly cold, you huddled next to Beth for warmth, or Carol sometimes. You felt absolutely no shame in it. There were only a few tattered blankets to go around, but they barely did anything for your numb toes and stiff fingers. If you weren't all family before, then you definitely were now - given how close you'd all had to become.

Some nights, the ones which were your favourites, Daryl slept beside you. You didn't think it was intentional at first. Or, maybe it was. In the grand scheme of things, it was barely anything at all. Yet, the first time almost made you cry, as it felt like he was reminding you that he still cared for you. It wasn't like you ever embraced him, or did anything remotely intimate. You hadn't ever been anything more than the brief kiss you shared in his tent. Though, it still felt intimate to you.

He'd come in late, as usual, on a particularly cold night. You'd heard him slug off his boots and throw them aside as he stripped out of his heavy winter gear. The whole time, you'd pretended to be asleep, like you normally did. After a while, he finally laid down on the ground, clambering over the sleeping bodies of the rest of the group. You usually all huddled together in one room for warmth. You'd felt the floorboards creak and shift beneath you as he settled next to you, not that you were touching, but close enough to feel his presence and hear his breathing.

Once you were sure he'd fallen asleep, you scooted backwards slightly, so that your backs were touching. It was hardly anything, but the slight warmth you felt from him was more comfort than you'd had in weeks. You were touch starved and hungry and cold. You needed something. When you'd woken up the next morning, he was already gone. He never said anything about it, but since then you'd found yourself occasionally waking up in the middle of the night to your back pressed against his, or sometimes having a hand intertwined with your own.

As you finished down one aisle, you noticed another that had been left untouched. It was a toy section, quite small given the size of the store. Obviously, the necessities had been taken first, and you thought that whatever children had survived the apocalypse probably didn't have many things left to play with - since they were all still here. You trailed your finger over the dusty shelf, feeling the glossy plastic of the boxes and the soft fur of the stuffed animals piled there.

"Looking for something for the baby?" Carol asked, popping up behind you.

You immediately jumped, and flung a hand over your chest as you shot her a look. It had been your fault for not paying attention, but she didn't need to know that.

You shook your head. "Not intentionally." You admitted, eyes scanning over the selection. "But I suppose we could pick something up."

You chose one of the bears and shoved it into your satchel. Usually, you'd have looked for something for Carl, too, but he'd recently been acting a lot older than his years. He wanted to step up and protect everyone like his father, he confessed to you one day. You had to admit, he was a pretty good shot and certainly didn't seem like a child anymore. You didn't want to undermine his efforts by presenting him with an action figure in the midst of your current situation, telling him to take a break from killing walkers to play with it.

"Did you find anything?" You turned to look at Carol, who held up her bag that didn't seem anywhere near full.

She shrugged her shoulders at you and made a face. "Few expired cans, but nothing much." She frowned. "You?"

You shook your head softly and flipped open the flap of your satchel to show her your haul.

"Some bandaids and a Freddie Mercury bobblehead." You confessed, picking it out to show her.

You held up the small figure in front of her face, pulling back its comically large head with your thumb and letting it wobble.

"Cute, right?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Carol just gave a small chuckle in reply, folding her arms as though about to half-heartedly scold a child. You shrugged your shoulders before stuffing it back into the bag. Just because Carl didn't want to play with toys anymore didn't mean that you couldn't.

Carol glanced over at the entrance of the store, before giving the shelves a final scan. "We should get going soon." She noted, her bag clanking as she readjusted it over her shoulder. "Some walkers might have gathered outside by now."

You hummed in response, distracted by the array of multi-coloured boxes. "It's fine, I'll look after you." You said, shooting her a wink as she sighed.

The woman had become used to your teasing by now, and it was a welcomed change from how tense you all were most of the time. Even though you mostly used humor as a coping mechanism, especially when you felt nervous, it seemed to lighten the atmosphere when it got a bit too heavy.

"Though I don't think you even need me." You continued, eyeing the small pistol she had tucked into her jeans. "You're getting pretty good with a gun."

Carol snorted at that, reminding you of the time she almost shot a bullet through Rick's boot not so long ago. In her defence, Rick had been a lot more on edge that day, and you'd been quite tempted to do the same.

"Speak for yourself." She spoke, after you'd tried to convince her otherwise. "You started learning after me and your aim's already on parr with Rick's."

You remembered those first days, and how hard they were. Everyone had fallen into their roles and you'd felt almost stuck in place. You didn't know how best to contribute. It had taken the neighbourhood you were all staying in to get overrun before you had the chance to test your skills. You hadn't wanted to waste bullets before that, but you'd scarcely had a choice then.

"He's a good teacher." You smiled at Carol, giving Rick praise where it was due. "And there's no better practice than being terrified and having to learn on the job." You admitted with a strained laugh.

You continued walking down the aisle slowly, back in the direction of the entrance.

"But you're right, we should go." You agreed, gesturing to the door.

The two of you took a few steps together before you stopped abruptly as something caught your attention, right in the corner of your eye. You whipped your head around to look at one of the glossy toy boxes, reading its bold letter description.

"Oh my god." You mumbled to yourself, below your breath.

Carol looked over at you, confused. "What is it?" She asked, glancing in the direction where you were staring.

You couldn't hold back the grin that spread over your face as you grabbed the box and held it in your hand. You glanced over your shoulder, at Carol, before running your fingers back over the dusty plastic.

"No fucking way!" You yelled in disbelief. It seemed like your luck was finally changing.

Carol peered over your shoulder before letting out a chuckle at your expression.

"Now that would be perfect for the baby." She smiled, staring down at it in your hands.

You shook your head at her, looking up to meet her eyes. "I actually had someone else in mind." You admitted, still feeling the smile tug at the corners of your mouth as you said it. "It's a bit of an inside joke we have."

Carol hummed in reply, but didn't press for answers.

"But I agree." You went on, making room for the box to fit into your satchel. "It'll probably get handed down to baby Grimes at some point."

The walk back to the cabin was pretty uneventful. The two of you stayed in the cover of the forest, out of sight of the main road. You'd had to dispatch a couple of walkers on the way, but nothing that the two of you couldn't handle. At this point, you just wished for another set of clothes that weren't covered in muck and dried blood. You could hardly remember the last time you'd worn something clean - that hadn't just been dunked in a creek when you came across one.

As you walked, you must have strayed slightly off the path that you usually took, since you came across an unfamiliar, old Toyota truck that had veered off road and crashed into a tree. It was covered in dried leaves and all beat up, but you recognised the model as the same one belonging to Otis, back at the Greene farm. It was always parked outside there. It was a simple, two person pick up truck that was rusty red in colour, and it instantly made you think back on the night that you were forced into driving it.

After Rick had told you and Daryl that Randall had escaped, the whole farm went into an uproar. You stayed in the farmhouse whilst some of the group went to look for him, Daryl included. It wasn't long before you spotted the horde coming your way, and Hershel's barn had started to go up in flames in the distance. After that, you could barely remember what had happened.

You'd been with Daryl at first. He shot the walkers that got too close with his crossbow, before switching to guns. You did the same, trying to give the others an opportunity to pile into the vehicles and escape. At some point, however, you got completely cut off from the rest of the group and had been forced back to the opposite side of the farmhouse.

The chaos was indescribable. It was like you'd been drafted up for war in the span of half an hour. Soon, you had run out of bullets and only had your knife left to defend yourself. So, you ran. Not able to see any of the others anymore, you sprinted for the last vehicle left - Otis' old Toyota truck. You flung the door open and clambered inside, locking it just in time to avoid the hands that smacked up onto the glass windows. You remembered how your chest heaved as your hands fumbled around the dash frantically. You finally found the keys tucked into the sun visor above your head, and almost cried from relief.

When your hands stopped shaking long enough to put it in the ignition, you turned the key only for the engine to rumble once before falling flat. You tried it again, and it gave out a choked sputter and died.

"No, no, no." You whispered, turning the key over and over to try and start the truck. "This can't be happening."

The windows had almost been completely blacked out by the number of hands and faces pressed against them, the walkers snapping their jaws at you as you panicked inside. In the rearview mirror, you could even see some start to clamber into the truck bed, and knew that it was only a matter of time before they completely swarmed you. You slammed your hands onto the steering wheel in frustration and yelled, not caring whether you attracted more.

"I can't die now, I just kissed that stubborn asshole!" You screamed, accidentally hitting the windscreen wiper stick with your elbow. You watched as the blade caught one of the walkers' flesh and smeared it over the glass.

"Fucking great." You sighed, and turned the key again.

This time, you felt it catch slightly between your fingers, and thought that perhaps the starter motor was sticking. The truck hadn't been used since Otis' death, but it still seemed to have some life in it. You jiggled the key and turned it half way, praying to every deity you could think of. You twisted it fully, and the engine roared to life. You held your breath for a few seconds, not entirely trusting it, but as it continued to rumble you realised that it had started properly this time.

Not wanting to sit around any longer, you immediately set off, mowing down the stream of walkers in front of you all while hoping that the car wouldn't flip over. You watched your mirror as the ones clinging onto the truck bed were flung off as you picked up speed, and you almost wanted to yell out in triumph - but felt like you might be sick if you did so.

The truck was hell to drive. You couldn't figure out the stick for a while and your windscreen was covered in blood and smeared guts. You knew you had to head for the highway where the supplies for Sofia were left. You'd gone with Rick one time, when he went to wait for her there at noon. As you pulled out of Hershel's farm, you gave a final glance back in your mirror to see your home burn and become entirely inhabited by the undead - and noticed your little yellow submarine trampled to the ground as you did so.

As you neared the highway, after driving on the wrong side of the road for a while without realising it, you felt a knot start to form in your stomach. You hadn't seen the others get away - you didn't know if they were alive or dead, or even if they would have waited for you if they managed to escape. Your eyes blurred with tears as you drove, still not feeling any sense of relief despite having made it out of the farm. You just prayed that everyone was safe.

When you got closer to the meeting spot, you immediately noticed the familiar vehicles from the farm, and even Daryl's motorbike, all parked up. You stopped the truck once you couldn't go any further, being blocked by the abandoned cars. The group began to approach you quickly as you clambered out and hit the floor with shaky feet. Glenn reached you first, smiling widely when he saw that you were okay.

"Is that you?" He asked, clapping a hand over your trembling shoulders. "I've never seen anyone drive that badly before-"

You didn't let him finish, instead running over to Daryl on unsteady feet. You flung yourself into his arms, which pulled you in close and held you tight. You sobbed louder than you thought you ever had before, crying into his chest as you felt one of his hands stroke softly over your back. You didn't care what anyone thought at this moment. Nothing could describe the feeling of losing your home and thinking your family was dead. You realised how close you had been to being all alone, once again.

"Hey, c'mon look at me." He said softly, trying to pry himself out of your grip.

He lifted your chin up with his finger and you knew that you must've looked quite the state. Your eyes were completely blurred with tears, so much that you could barely make out the man in front of you, and your nose ran as you struggled to hold back your sobs.

"It's a'right." He reassured you, looking into your eyes as if realising that you needed further convincing. "Yer safe."

You looked around at the group, taking in their faces and feeling your hands tremble against Daryl's chest as they clutched the material of his shirt still. Everyone looked relieved, and offered you small smiles of comfort.

You stepped back from the man a little, giving him his space. You still couldn't stop the tears from falling. It was as if your body still hadn't caught up to your mind.

"I was so scared." You admitted quietly, voice quivering as you did so. "I thought you'd all left me."

You didn't drop your hands from his chest, letting yourself feel his heartbeat beneath your palms as a reminder that this was all real.

Daryl shook his head at you. "We'd never leave ya, Teach" He grumbled, as though he couldn't believe you'd even suggest it. "Went back to look for ya on the bike but I couldn't find ya."

Maggie stepped forward, pulling you into a hug as you finally released Daryl's shirt from your grip. She stroked your hair as she brought you into her chest, and you felt tears stream down your cheeks.

"You scared us all half to death." She told you, before gripping onto your shoulders tightly as you stood back from her.

Glenn nodded in agreement, before letting out a small chuckle. "Then we spotted Otis' truck barreling down the highway." He said, pointing over to the vehicle you'd abandoned. "Thought a walker was driving it the way you were swerving all over the place."

You tried to let out a laugh in return, but it came out all watery in between your sobs.

"The gearstick-" you choked out, hiccuping as you spoke. "Had to change gears with the wrong hand." You explained, lifting your arm to give a poor demonstration as you continued to cry.

"You-" you spluttered, letting out a wail mixed with a desperate laugh. "You stupid Americans."

It was a few days before you and Daryl crossed paths in the cabin again. It was late and you'd been trying to sleep for a few hours when the door creaked open. He'd shuffled around for a bit before you heard him take over watch duty from Glenn. At first, you'd wanted to go outside and scold him for never taking the time to rest, but after a few minutes you decided on a different plan. Prying yourself out from underneath the blanket you shared with Beth, you pulled on your boots - not bothering to do up the laces. The icy breeze hit your skin and caused it to prickle instantly, making you wish you had a spare comforter to take with you. You wouldn't be surprised if it snowed soon, given how dry and bitter the air had felt on your cheek earlier that day.

You retrieved your satchel and tip-toed around the sleeping bodies, doing your best not to step on any creaky floorboards and disturb them. You opened the cabin door slowly, and shut it behind you as you stepped out into the night. Daryl was sitting on the stone wall a few feet away, and you could tell that the smoke coming from his lips was from more than just the cold. He had a cigarette lit between his fingers, and you could make out the familiar lighter that he flicked open and closed in his other hand. You approached with purposefully loud footsteps, not wanting to startle him. He didn't turn around, waiting until you came closer.

"Mind if I join you?" You shot him a smile, pulling your arms to your chest to try and protect yourself against the chill.

He hummed in response, and you noticed how exhausted he looked in the glow of the lighter flame that flickered near his cheeks. His hands were covered in dirt, as were parts of his face, and his hair stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck despite how cold it was. Though, you were sure that you didn't look any better. Your once white vest was now a grubby brown colour and you'd pulled your long hair into a bun on top of your head about a week ago and hadn't looked back since.

Wordlessly, the man shrugged off the poncho he'd found recently, and handed it to you. He had another leather jacket on underneath, but you still felt guilty. You thanked him, pulling it over your head and instantly feeling grateful for the warmth that engulfed you. He then pulled a carton of cigarettes out of his pocket, offering it over to you where he sat. You shook your head and gave him a small smile as he shrugged and stuffed them back into his jacket.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, just watching and listening to the night. Nothing was uncomfortable between you. It's just that the two of you were almost like magnets, trying to intentionally stay away from each other. You feared that the two of you might never be able to seperate if you stuck together for good. It wasn't awkward, but there was definitely unspoken tension, like you were both waiting for something that you couldn't let happen yet.

"I miss my tent." You sighed, watching your breath appear as a small puff of air against the black night.

Daryl grumbled at that. "I sure as hell don't." He muttered, taking a final drag from his smoke before snuffing it out on the wall. "Thing was an eyesore."

You chuckled a bit at his response, not really sure what you were expecting. "You loved it, really." You teased, shooting him a wink that he dismissed.

"Whatever, Sunshine." He mumbled back, but his voice sounded a lot lighter than it had for a while.

After a few seconds, you remembered your satchel, now safely tucked away in the warmth of the poncho you wore. You fumbled around beneath it for a bit, which made Daryl give you a look, before pulling out the canvas bag and setting it onto your lap.

"I have something for you." You beamed, feeling the breeze sting your sore, chapped lips.

Daryl sighed at you, finally looking over to meet your eyes.

"Ya need to stop gettin' me shit." He drawled, with no bite behind his words.

You shook your head quickly at the accusation. "It isn't from me!" You almost yelled, before reminding yourself that there were people sleeping a few feet away, and lowering your voice.

You glanced back at the cabin and pointed to it. "This place has no chimney, so he told me to pass it onto you."

Daryl raised an eyebrow at you, which you ignored. Instead, you fished around in your satchel until you found what you were looking for. You could barely contain your excitement as you pulled out the box wrapped messily in old newspapers, and handed it to him expectantly.

He took it from you carefully, as though not entirely trusting it. Though, he still held it gently in his hand, in case he was afraid to break it. You watched intently as he flipped it over and squinted his eyes at the writing on it, confusion clear on his face. You'd scribbled on it earlier in the day, having found a sharpie tucked away in one of the drawers. You'd tried to do it secretively, but almost had a heart attack when Glenn asked you what you were doing - dropping the gift and kicking it under the couch until he promised to leave. Luckily, you hadn't found any dents on it afterwards. Yet, you now found it almost comical how carefully Daryl treated the box, considering what you had done to it only a few hours before.

Your eyes scanned over the letters with him as he read them, seeing the words written on top of the newspaper in black, bold print:

'To Young Daryl Dixon,

Merry Christmas!

From, Father Christmas.'

By the time he looked up to question you, you were already watching his eyes - waiting to see his expression. At the moment, his face was still scrunched up in confusion, which made you chuckle. The man looked at you like you'd just handed him a bomb he didn't know how to diffuse.

"Father Christmas?" He asked slowly, like the syllables were foreign on his tongue.

You cocked your head to the side, looking back down at the gift and wondering if you'd made a mistake. Your eyes widened.

"Shit." You muttered below your breath, before looking back up to meet his gaze. "It's Santa Clause to you people, isn't it?" You questioned.

Daryl looked at you in disbelief, as if wondering what the hell you were going on about. You were used to that look from him by now, and continued to ramble.

"I'm sure that's what he meant." You said, nodding. "He probably was in a rush when he wrote it." You looked away from the man, trying not to giggle as you remembered the whole incident between you and Glenn.

He continued to stare at you before shaking his head.

"Yer crazy, woman." He grumbled, picking the wrapped box back up to inspect it closer.

You felt your patience reach its limit, unable to contain your excitement anymore. You shoved his arm.

"Just open it!" You ordered, and he did.

For a man so rough around the edges, you'd never seen someone unwrap a gift so gently before. He didn't rip into the paper like you would have, but spent a few extra seconds pulling the parcel tape off and unfolding it with care. Once it was opened up on his lap, you watched his face as he finally saw the plastic box inside.

You knew it wasn't the exact same one he'd told you about, from all of those years ago, but it must've been close. It was a child's sheriff kit. It had the little hat that looked similar to Rick's, and the pointy metal badge in the shape of a star. When you'd seen it in the store, you just knew you had to get it for him. He might have forgotten telling you about it by now, but you had remembered.

"It didn't come with a gun, I'm afraid." You pointed to the plastic window of the box, explaining it to him. "But we have plenty of those."

You shot him a smile as you saw his expression. It was still confused, as he glanced between you and the box in his palms, but it was a lot more shy and uncertain now. You could almost see the thoughts working overtime in that head of his, as he processed it all, and decided to stop staring at him.

"It was either this or a Freddie Mercury bobblehead." You noted, feeling your cheeks hurt at how much you were beaming at the man. "And I wanted the bobblehead."

He sat in silence, just listening to your ramblings as he usually did. His eyes were still fixated on the gift, as if making up for all the years he'd wished for it as a child. You desperately wanted to slip your hand into his, or rest your head on his shoulder - but you refrained. You didn't want to take away from this moment; you just wanted to watch it. That, and you weren't sure if you'd be able to let him go if you did.

"You said how you never got any presents as a kid." You started carefully, trying to navigate your thoughts into words. "It made me sad." You admitted, in more of a whisper this time.

Daryl looked over at you, his expression soft. It was like he was uncertain of his own words, too.

"I know it's stupid." You confessed, voice trailing off as you lost your nerve.

"Nah it aint." He interrupted, shaking his head and trying to get you to look at him. "I love it."

You thought he was being sarcastic until your eyes met his and you saw the sincerity within them, and suddenly your breath caught in your throat. Daryl Dixon gave you a smile so warm that it almost made you forget it was winter. You didn't know he could even make these kinds of expressions, and you weren't able to entirely hide your reaction. Though, his smile went as quickly as it came. He looked away from you, as if noticing he'd let his stubborn, unapproachable wall crumble down. You snorted, wondering if he truly hadn't realised that you knew him better than that by now.

"I thought that baby Grimes could play with it eventually." You suggested, and he hummed in agreement.

"But in the meantime-" you continued, taking the box from his hands and opening it.

He watched you with curious eyes but didn't say anything, just letting you carry on like you had him wrapped around your little finger. You fumbled with the box, pulling out the star shaped badge, before handing the rest back. You turned so that you were facing opposite him, and pulled on his leather jacket so that it opened.

He grumbled at you as you did it, but made no effort to pull away or stop you. Instead, you flipped open one side of his jacket and pinned the badge on the material inside, closing it again before the cold set it.

"It belongs to Deputy Dixon, as promised." You finished with a smile, watching as he thumbed over the metal concealed in his jacket. The look on his face showed just how much he struggled to figure you out.

To your surprise, he didn't remove it straight away. He just bit his lip, as though trying to think of how to respond.

"Yer too much, Teach." He said lowly, after a few seconds.

"How so?" You asked.

He glanced back down into his lap, at the box that was still resting there. "Doin' all this." He mumbled, seeming like he was holding himself back. You stayed silent, waiting for him to go on.

"You bring back comics for Carl, an' stuff for the baby." He said, looking down as he spoke. "We're all here tryna do our best jus' to survive, an' you come in with that huge beamin' smile on yer face showin' us a bobblehead ya found."

He finally met your eyes, and you could see from his look that he just genuinely couldn't comprehend it. You seemed to completely allude Daryl Dixon, and the thought of him struggling to try to understand you better made you almost giddy.

"I know it's odd." You admitted, pulling the poncho closer to your body as the wind picked up. "But just because our priority is surviving doesn't mean that we should put off living."

You bit your lip. This was the most you had spoken to the man in weeks, and as the seconds went by you found it harder and harder to hold yourself back.

"I thought you could use a reminder of that." You said, offering him a small smile. "You work so hard to try and keep us all fed and safe, I wanted to give you something as a thank you."

The newspaper fluttered in the breeze, and Daryl barely caught hold of it as a gust picked it up. You caught a glimpse of your handwriting, where he held it between his fingers.

"Santa Clause did, I mean." You corrected.

You sat together in silence for a while, but the man didn't light any more cigarettes. You felt yourself growing tired and attempted to convince him to swap his shift with someone else, but he refused. You knew the sun would start to rise in a couple of hours, so you wanted to get some sleep before then. Begrudgingly, you shuffled out of the oversized poncho and offered it back to the man before you left, immediately being reminded of how icy the weather had gotten. He shook his head at your outstretched hand, which you had already expected.

"Nah, you keep it." He said, in a way that left you no room to argue.

You raised an eyebrow at him, feeling nostalgic at the familiar situation. This time, however, you didn't fight with him. Slipping the material back over your head, you huddled it to your chest and whispered a soft 'thanks' to him. The sky was still dark, and kept you wondering whether you would start to see sleet fall in the next couple of days. You looked back over to the dilapidated cabin, with its wooden weathered walls and its roof that looked close to caving in. It was a far cry from Hershel's idyllic farmhouse, but somehow you didn't seem to mind as much on this specific night.

You slipped off the stone wall you'd been sitting on and stood up on your tip-toes to reach the man still sat there. You brushed away the hair over his face with the palm of your hand, and gave him a brief kiss on the forehead before turning to leave.

"Merry Christmas, Daryl." You told him, and returned to the house to watch the first snowflakes fall from the window.

A/N Don't you love it when the plot points you set up 6 chapters ago come back around to be resolved. It's *delicious*. I think I would actually pay to see the Christmas scene play out. There's only so much imagination can do - I want to see Daryl's shy reaction in person, too!

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rivalry-trope-enjoyer · 3 years

Text

Autumn Troupe: When they have nightmares

(PSA: this one’s a little self indulgent since I can’t sleep tonight so apologies if the headcanon’s inaccurate to the character ^^’)

Juza

Juza’s one to hide whatever gets him down because he doesn’t want to burden those around him.

He wants to be a good influence for Muku and Kumon and he tries not to rope them into anything negative that he has going on.

He tried to have a positive impact on you, too, so most times he doesn’t know how to express or want to express his vulnerabilities to you.

It was inevitable the night he had a nightmare, unfortunately it was you turning your back on him and was suddenly scared of him and thought of him as a monster.

Juza woke up in a cold sweat next to you, and he had no time to panic as he quickly rose up, reaching the air in front of him in a frenzy.

It would be best to hold him and/or reassure him. He needs to know that he isn’t alone and that it’s safe to open up to you, he will melt and quickly try to forget what happened in his dream.

He won’t tell you much about the dream, he won’t resist your efforts of getting close to him. In fact, it’s all Juza would have ever wanted. The love and care of someone that would accept him for who he is.

He’ll silently accept the love you give him, holding onto you tightly to steady his shaking and reassure his head.

Banri

Banri didn’t care much about nightmares, it never really bothered him and he kind of blew it off as some meaningless sign to ignore.

He never read much into things and didn’t see the need to start now. He was just rolling through life without a care in the world.

That was, until you came into his life.

He cared for you greatly and the feeling of putting in time and effort into someone that wasn’t his own self was almost foreign.

You had genuinely supported Banri throughout acting and everything he did, and he returned the favor which he had never thought he ever would.

Every bit of affection, every compliment he’d shrug off from literally anyone else meant more to him than anything.

To the point where waking up from a nightmare felt different when you were involved.

He was terrified that this meaning that he found in his life was gone, he woke up trying to laugh it off but saw his hands shake from the after math.

Just a simple “I’m here, I’m here” would ground him and bring him back to reality. Your voice was like a song to Banri, one that he would never get tired of.

He’d laugh still, but in a more genuine manner, tease you and asked if you actually worried about him.

Inside, he was grateful that you affirmed you were there with him, but it’ll take a while for him to admit it.

Omi

This boy has a lot to unpack.

He’s riddled with nightmares ever since his best friend had died. Despite all the changes in his life it still comes back in his sleep to bite him in the back.

He convinces himself that he’s gotten used to the nightmares and accepted it all as what he has to live with, but it deeply bothered him.

Despite this Omi tends to put a strong face for everyone; his brothers and father, the Mankai company, and for you, too.

Initially, he saw his weak points as being a burden to you, so Omi likes to perform acts of service to you like making you food before he goes to work or to rehearsal, get groceries with you, and of course also make sure you get a good night sleep before he would have to leave to run errands of his own.

He rarely takes rests and keeps himself busy a lot, he loves to help the people he cares about, but at the same time he will over work to avoid the nightmares that come late at night.

It was bound to happen that he would knock out fast asleep next to you. He had a whole day of errands, photo shoots, a lengthy practice and cooking for both you and the troupe. Omi deserved a rest.

However he started twisting and turning in his sleep frantically and you woke him up in fear of what was going on.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you” he immediately goes, rubbing his eyes to hide the clear discomfort, stretching to get up and make himself some tea.

Refuse his offer to do anything, right now it’s best for him to recover, and even without any cooking skill, offer some calming tea and some snacks or comfort food from the fridge or pantry.

He’ll be endlessly grateful, laughing as he constantly reassures you that he would have been perfectly fine getting it himself, but still thank you in the process.

“I know you’d do the same for me, it’s time I help you, too”

Those words hit him in realizing how much he has already done the whole day, and how acts of service doesn’t need to be a one-way path. Showing how much you cared for him gave him a sense of trust and security with you almost instantly.

Taichi

He admired you so much, and he would desperately try to hide anything that made him seem uncool.

He still fears being alone more than anything, despite wanting to stand out, he hated the feeling of isolation.

Often times it comes in his nightmares ever since he left the God Troupe, he had been scared of being singled out as a traitor and left neglected.

He woke up in tears that he sobbed out, carelessly forgetting that you were sleeping right next to him, but were awoken by his cries and immediately got up to go to him.

“Taichi, are you okay?” “Yeah! Yeah I’m perfectly fine-“ “Taichi.”

You sounded stern but he was still stubborn and tried to convince you that he was in top shape.

“See? I got all my fingers and everything! Still the same-“

You didn’t believe him but instead pulled him into your arms and his tears bursted out even more, taken by surprise of the overwhelming affection and support that he loved from you so much.

He shamelessly cried in your arms and soaked your shoulder, apologizing for his uncool he looked, but you not caring made him cry even harder.

After that nightmare he was truly happy to show this side of himself, even if Taichi had thought of it to be shameful in the beginning. He felt that you would stay at his side even with his true colors, he was open to accepting his own self as much as you accepted him with open arms.

Sakyo

In comparison, Sakyo handles nightmares as if they were nuisances like a fever. He still has difficulty sleeping after them so he lies awake just staring at the ceiling for a while to let it fade away.

In his past he was not able to have a lot, and often times because of his past affiliations he did not have much room for error.

As much as possible he did not want to mess up anything with you as well. Upon meeting him, he did come off as cold, and it took a while for him to warm up to you and was careful when talking to you about his previous encounters with the yakuza, as much as what didn’t scare you off.

When realizing you had done more than stay, but instead support him with being the actor who Sakyo was trying to be today, he was thrilled.

As much as he’d lecture you about running water and spending on groceries, it was his own way of trying to be helpful and caring.

In a way it showed that he knew what he was doing, but when it came to seeing him in shambles after waking up after a nightmare of his ugly past, he froze.

You were lying right next to him and he didn’t know how to cover up his own tracks of vulnerability. The ice he encased himself in melted away when you crawled up to him and asked him what was wrong.

He never wanted to involve you in the dangers of what his line of worm was before, realizing how much he wanted you in his life, but you still being there after learning all about it was reassurance to him.

With that he was able to go to bed easier, knowing that act of his life was over, and he was able to start fresh with a life with you, in an arc that he hopes to never call the curtain on.

#omi fushimi x reader #mankai a3!#a3! x reader #act! addict! actors!#a3 imagines #a3! headcanons #autumn troupe x reader #Banri x reader #Juza x reader #taichi x reader #Sakyo x reader #a3! omi #a3! banri #a3! juza #a3! taichi #a3! sakyo

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kireijae · 3 years

Text

fearless — n.jm x reader

summary: you start a new job at your favourite local bookstore in seoul, however no one cared to inform you of the very pretty delivery guy who comes once a week.

genre: twist (ig?) on a bookstore!au, nonidol!au, fluff, angst, some crack too

warnings: swearing, detailed descriptions of food and eating, edited but not very well, i cried while writing it (if i forgot any or you want me to add specific ones, send an ask or message me!)

words: 6k

a.n: i worked so hard on this oh my goodness it was like giving birth dkfjdsfnsd. but really i love this one a lot so i hope you all enjoy it because i did my best to do the story i had in my head justice. also! let me know what you thought of it!

m.list

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The streets were quiet as you walked to the bookstore. Your bag was heavy in your hand and the sun danced around you, creating a blinding sort of glow on the pavement beneath your feet. You passed modern coffee shops and tall skyscrapers alike, buildings becoming more and more modern the longer you walked. All right angles, smooth surfaces and tinted windows glinting in the morning sun. It was only your second day on the job, but the route was already familiar to you, after having visited the bookstore quite often over the few years you’d been living in the city.

The tingling sounds of the old bell above the door fell around you like snowflakes as you stepped inside. It was quite literally like stepping into another realm. The floor was paved with stone tiles, little shoots of green peaking up between them here and there. The glass walls were lined with creepers and bookshelves alike and the glass roof allowed for the rays of sunlight to poke through the trees’ branches above.

Your eyes were pulled to Jisoo after her voice called to you from behind the cash register. “Good morning!” she said, eyes bright and her voice chipper.

She gave you a short list of things to do before opening the store while she did some admin in the back room. You rearranged bookshelves, tidied the seating area in the centre of the room, fluffing up the old embroidered cushions and wiping the coffee stain off the old wooden table. Once you heard the old clock near the counter sing its tune to signal the hour, you walked over to the door to flip the sign that hung there.

The day went by slowly, with barely any customers walking through the doors. You were half asleep at the register when you heard the bell at the door ring and you sat up from your crunched up position on the old stool. You blinked a few times in an attempt to wake yourself up completely, but your eyes widened when they focused on the person at the door.

You nearly thought it was a scene out of a drama. He walked in, and you swore you saw a curl of wind rush past him and fuss with his hair. Everything around him went out of focus — all your attention honed in on him. He had a white t-shirt on with a loose, light blue button up draped over his shoulders. His hair had to have been dyed, with the depth of the black that coated the strands, but it was still glimmering nonetheless.

You were paying attention to everything he did as he walked towards you, so luckily for you, you caught his words even through your haze.

“Hey, are you new here?” you finally noticed that he held a big cardboard box in his arms, fingers curled around the front, with the bottom of it resting on his forearms.

You opened your mouth to answer, but before any sort of sound could pour out, Jisoo came out from the back room. You were grateful for the interruption, seeing as you weren’t sure you could function correctly just then.

“This is only her second day, Jaemin,” she said, throwing him a knowing glance from the corner of her eye and taking the box from him, “don’t scare her off.”

“Now how would I ever scare someone off?” he leaned on the end of the counter, eyes following Jisoo’s form into the back room again.

The arm that wasn’t leaning on the dark wooden counter was hanging limply from his shoulder, his whole body conveying defeat from the forward curve of his spine to the slack of his jaw.

“You nearly knocked over an entire shelf of books on your first delivery here,” yelled Jisoo, still from the back room.

“I was nervous!” he straightened his posture, his hand now flat in front of you and his arm outstretched, “Anyways I better get going.”

He looked at you as he said it and you noticed the way the glint in his eyes seemed to dance and swirl around until he completely focused on you.

“I’m Y/n, by the way,” you forced an arm out along with your words.

He took your hand gently and squeezed it, “I’m Jaemin. I don’t think I’ve ever shaken someone’s hand before. At least not someone my age.”

His tone seemed sincere, not teasing or judgemental — purely observational. He threw you a smile before walking out the door again. His light blue shirt billowing behind him when he opened the door.

“Don’t mind him,” Jisoo said, walking out into the store again with a pile of books in her hands, “he’s insanely annoying, but honestly it’s either him or the old guy who smells like mould. That smell hangs around even after he’s gone.”

Jaemin came back a few days later, no box in his arms this time and a black hoodie on his frame. He usually came once every week with a box in hand and his bright smile stretched out on his face. Some days he was there and gone within the blink of an eye and other days he hovered around the store, gabbering about anything and everything. Sometimes he came into the shop empty handed: no box full of books to deliver. Jisoo seemed surprised the first time it happened, pulling a face akin to one a girl looking at her brother who just barged into her room unannounced would wear. She said nothing of it, however, so neither did you.

One night at 9pm when you were left alone to close the store, he came rushing down the road in his company van and stumbled out onto the concrete. His hair was already messed up before the wind hit it, most likely from his running his hands through it as he so often did.

‘How does it still look so soft?’

“Please tell me I’m not too late?” he said when he was close enough to not have to yell over the wind.

“Hm?” you widened your eyes and leaned your head forward, trying to get yourself to pay attention to his words instead of the glow of his skin under the streetlights.

“If I have to take another delivery back because I missed it Mr. Yoo might kill me,” he said, his eyes held a plea in them.

“Oh,” you turned back, fiddling for the key in your bag, “Sure let me just open up again.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” he said, setting the box down on the counter after refusing to let you carry it into the store.

“I opened a door Jaemin,” you said, scoffing at him from the door, “it’s nothing. Plus, it’s worth it if it means your boss won’t kill you— What are you doing?”

“I’m helping,” he was faced away from you, hands working at (aggressively) opening the package.

You huffed and set your bag down next to you before walking over to him. You peered over his shoulder, catching a whiff of his cologne. It smelled fresh but sweet. He’d already taken half the books out and piled them on the counter and one or two had fallen down onto the lower half that formed the desk at which you’d fallen asleep at least five times that week.

“You actually just look like you’re making a mess, Jaem,” you pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth and looked up at him through your eyelashes.

He tried his best not to let the shy smile slither onto his face, “Then tell me where to put them.”

He turned around, obviously underestimating your proximity. You were only about five centimeters away from him — at most. He could count your eyelashes if he wanted to, and goodness knows he was tempted to. Anything to be able to look at you for a little longer.

Your heart beat sporadically in your chest, his energy making your system go haywire. You reached behind him to grab one of the books and pulled it towards your chest.

“You don’t have to help. I can do it myself,” you couldn’t find it in yourself to move, you hoped it looked like you were standing your ground and not like you were stuck in your place from the shock of being so close to him.

“I want to,” you swore his eyes glitched — or yours did — because you saw him steal a glance at your lips.

You turned around swiftly before you could think about it anymore, “Alright, it’s organised by genre but these are all just restocks so you can take a few of these to the back.”

It took less time than you thought to pack everything away and enter the stock on the system, nearly half the time it usually took you by yourself. Jaemin was a lot more helpful than you thought he would, and he was a lot stronger than he looked, too.

“Do you want a ride home?” came his voice from behind you as he reached over you to put the last book on a shelf.

“Uh, I’ll be fine by myself,” you said, walking away from the shelf to get your bag again and sling it over your shoulder.

“I need to say thanks for taking the delivery, though,” his hands were back in the pockets of his black skinny jeans. His gaze floated over to you, the bottom lid of his eyes slightly swollen with sincerity.

“You already helped me put the books away, you’ve done more than enough—”

“But, I did make you stay late. And the city’s not safe at this hour.”

You sighed in defeat and readjusted your bag. You did hate walking at night and you’d been on your feet most of the day, so perhaps it wasn’t the worst idea to accept the lift home.

He grinned when you accepted and led you over to the van and you tried not to make a comment about getting into a van with a stranger.

You’d been driving for about ten minutes when you signalled for Jaemin to pull over in front of your apartment building. You reached for the door handle to let yourself out of the car once it came to a stop, but before you could, a hand caught your upper arm.

“Y/n…” he trailed off, eyes on the bend of your elbow.

You waited a moment, “Jaemin?”

And when he didn’t answer, you waved a hand in front of his face.

“Hmm? Oh,” he blinked out of his state and looked at you once again, “Uh, never mind.”

Your brows gathered like the ruffles on a dress but you gave him a moment before he let go of your arm, “You’ve been watching too many dramas, Jaemin. What were you going to say?”

He seemed taken aback at first, your directness not something he had anticipated. But then he smiled.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to hang out sometime,” his shyness was almost gone now, your honesty pulling it away from him.

“And? Do you still want to?”

“Yes.”

Your calm façade faltered when he handed you his phone and told you to put your number in it. His fingers brushed yours and you nearly shivered from the contact. However, you managed to hide it during your swift turn away from him.

He texted you as soon as you got into your apartment. You sat in bed for hours, hands grasping your phone. You only needed to wait a few seconds at a time for his replies. Your body hurt from being pushed into the mattress in such an awkward position, but you barely noticed it. Until it reached 3am that is. You had to force yourself to stop replying after the third time you’d sent a “goodnight, i’m actually leaving this time” text. You lay there for a while before you drifted off, thoughts of Jaemin floating through your mind.

Waking up the next morning was one of the hardest things you’d done in a while. Your eyelids felt puffy — you could feel them around your eyeballs everytime you blinked — and your neck hurt from being held up to look at your phone all night. The only reason you wound up going into work was because of one of Jaemin’s texts from last night:

“I’ll come by the bookshop after work sometime this week and we can have that date.”

“I mean hang out*! Unless you’re okay with it being a date? Bc I’d like that.”

—

None of the drinks in the convenience store looked like the one you wanted, or even close to it. Green, orange and yellow bottles lined the refrigerated shelves and you had no interest in any of them. You’d been standing at the back of the store in front of the refrigerators for a few minutes too long and at this point it was probably getting strange for the cashier. If they were even looking, that is. You realised in your short time in the retail industry that the cashiers are never looking at the customers. Most of the time they were zoned out, or on their phones and not watching the customer’s every move, though it still felt like it. You faintly heard the door swing open, but your eyes remained glued to the drinks on the other side of the glass, and your thoughts most definitely not on your surroundings.

Jaemin hadn’t been to the store in three days and he hadn’t texted you since yesterday. As much as you hated to admit it, that boy had got into your head and so, too, had insecurity. Though your rational mind tried to explain the number of reasons he hadn’t been able to come, your irrational mind seemed to be winning in thinking that he was tired of you. It was absurd that you were having this crisis in the middle of the juice aisle of a 7 Eleven at 10pm and you knew it. You also knew he probably had a busy day at work, he’d even told you last week how busy Wednesdays were for some reason, in fact he’d complained for almost ten minutes while you sat staring at the fluffy ends of his hair. But what could you have done to drive him away? Maybe it was the staring…

“This is getting painful.”

And now you were hearing his voice everywhere. It really was time for you to go home. Take a nap. Maybe it was exhaustion talking. After all, you had stayed up late talking to him last night and you had to get up extra early because you were the one opening the shop.

“Just take the pineapple one.” No, that had to be Jaemin.

You whipped around then when the realisation hit you, however, you still stumbled back a bit when you saw it was his figure standing behind you in the aisle.

“What?” Your brain was still cloudy from all the thoughts swirling around it previously, though they’d completely disappeared now that Jaemin was within your line of sight.

“Take the pineapple soda,” he said again, a giant, perfect smile on his face.

“I don’t like pineapple,” you said, gears in your head finally working again, “I was looking for—”

“Please don’t say strawberry,” he hung his shoulders when he saw the sly grin that crept its way onto your face. “Why does everyone love strawberry so much? It tastes like medicine.”

He took you by the hand and pulled you towards the door, passing the very much unconscious cashier on the way out.

“Where are you taking me to?” Your hand was limp in his, you didn’t have the confidence quite yet to be able to grip his hand back.

“That place never has strawberry soda, I’m taking you somewhere that does,” he didn’t let go of your hand for a second.

You watched him as he walked slightly ahead of you, his hair bouncing as he walked. He was wearing a ring, though you couldn’t see exactly what it was in the streetlights’ glow. It was cold against your skin despite his own skin being warm as well.

You walked for a few minutes before Jaemin’s head suddenly perked up like a puppy who’d heard its name being called.

“Do you hear music?” he asked, whipping his head around in an attempt to find where the waves of music were coming from.

“It must be from the park down that way,” you pointed past Jaemin, to the road on your right.

Jaemin grinned and pulled you with him down the empty road. The park came into view and you saw what seemed to be the remains of a festival. People were littered around the centre of the park, surrounded by cherry blossom trees. Some were gazing up at the sparkling lights tangled among the branches, and others were dancing to the music playing.

Jaemin’s grin widened and he turned to you with bright eyes and a pleading expression on his face.

“I thought we were getting soda,” you said, with a smile on your face that told him there was no way you could say ’no.’

“Just ten minutes?” Jaemin bit his bottom lip in excitement as soon as he finished his sentence, he already knew your answer.

“Fine.”

By the time you got the word out, he was already pulling you after him to the row of trees.

Once you were on the path, beautiful trees surrounding you, Jaemin slowed down and craned his neck to look up. He squeezed your hand in order to get you to look up at the trees as well. Clouds of pink petals collected around the branches, and the lights shone like stars among them. The music and faint sound of cars filled your ears and the smell of freshly cooked food floated through the air.

“I’ve never been to one of these festivals at night,” you said, turning your head to the side to look at him instead.

Your words tore his eyes away from the view above, “Really?”

You nodded your head simply and the two of you continued walking in comfortable silence. Every now and then, drops of water fell from the trees above you like rain from the clouds, most likely from the rain that had run through the city earlier in the day. The music floated around your head, it was a song you didn’t remember the name of but the beat was familiar and it caused you to nod your head to the tune. Jaemin sensed the nodding of your head and did his best to hide his smile by looking down at the paved ground below him.

His gaze was brought back to you, though, when he heard a light giggle. Jaemin’s eyes followed your line of sight and found that you were looking at two kids dancing to the music. They bounced about with no sense of the rhythm of the music, giant smiles on their faces. He felt as though he was in the ending shot of a drama, a freeze frame centred on the main character, the background out of focus and the edges of the screen twinkling. Jaemin wanted so desperately to ask you to dance. Right there. In the middle of the park. And he considered doing it, too.

Just then, your smile widened as the two children began twirling aimlessly and Jaemin couldn’t stop himself from speaking his next words, “Did you want to da-“

Luckily for him, the rain was able to stop him when it suddenly came pouring down. Both of you stood frozen for a few seconds, unsure of what to do, until you started pulling Jaemin back the way you came.

“How far is the store you wanted to go to?” you asked when Jaemin furrowed his brows at you.

“Oh, right,” he said, grabbing your hand tighter and walking in front of you, “It’s just around the corner.”

Eventually he stopped the two of you in front of a frozen yoghurt shop. It was devoid of people except for the cashier, who you could barely make out the silhouette of in the neon lights.

He pulled you in through the glass door and pointed over to the drinks glistening in the lights. The whole shop was cold, making you put your hands on your upper arms to preserve heat. You took one of the many strawberry flavoured sodas off the shelf, but you shivered at the even cooler temperature inside the refrigerator. You stood there for a few seconds, thinking before grabbing a pineapple soda from the bottom shelf and turning around to head towards the cashier.

Jaemin was already sat at one of the white tables, facing away from you. The black material of his jacket hugged him comfortably, his body nearly drowning in the fabric. It made you want to wrap your arms around him, whether it was simply to get warmth or if it was to get to hold Jaemin, you weren’t sure.

You yanked your eyes away from him and went over to the cashier, setting the two bottles down on the counter.

“You don’t have to pay,” he said from his place on a stool near the cash register. He didn’t even look up from the phone in his hands, “It’s on the house.”

You jerked your head away in surprise, “Excuse me?”

“Really, you don’t have to pay for it” Jaemin’s voice came up behind you, “that’s my cousin, he’s trying to get fired.”

You looked back and forth between the two for a second, only just seeing the resemblance.

“What? Why?” you ask, not sure who to direct the question to, but that problem was solved when the boy sitting behind the register put AirPods in his ears.

“My aunt will kill him if he quits another job,” Jaemin snickered, “He’s quit five in the last four months.”

You walked over to Jaemin as he spoke and you noticed two cups of frozen yoghurt on the table.

“That has to be a record,” you sat down and Jaemin pushed one of the cups over to you. There was a curl of lilac coloured frozen yoghurt peeking out the top of the cup.

He chuckled, “Yeah, his mom completely cussed him out. But I’ve met the manager of this place and I would want to quit too if I were him.”

It was silent for a few seconds as you dipped the plastic spoon into the swirl of frozen yoghurt and hummed.

“You just don’t like him, because he stocks strawberry flavoured soda,” you spoke around your growing smirk before opening the can and taking a sip from said soda.

“Hey, at least I’m not the one mixing soda with frozen yoghurt,” he said, pointing to the aforementioned drink with a stern look in his eyes.

You narrowed your eyes at him, seeing through his judgemental facade, “You’ve never tried it have you?” His gaze melted into one of rather tense curiosity at your actions as you raised a spoonful of the frozen yoghurt to your mouth.

“No, doesn’t it feel weird?” he watched you with his confusion pulling on his brows.

“That’s the whole point,” you said, before following the spoon of yoghurt with a sip of soda again.

He quickly scooped some frozen yoghurt from the quickly diminishing supply into his mouth and then looked at you expectantly after swallowing, “So it’s like a chaser?”

You let out a giggle, “I mean kinda, yeah. Try it, but keep the soda in your mouth for a little.”

He reached out, took his soda into his right hand, and after opening it and giving it a curious look, he drank from it. His eyes widened at the pleasant sensation of fizzing and bubbling in his mouth and he pulled his lips together as if sucking from a straw. You laughed loudly at his animated reaction and tried to hold back the ‘I told you so’ that threatened to spill past your lips.

“Wow,” his mouth widened, his jaw comically lopsided, and held the can of soda out in front of him, looking at it as if it had just spoken to him. He then looked up at you, his expression turning back into confusion, “Why are you laughing?!”

“I’ve shown this to so many people, but they’ve never reacted like you just did,” you put a hand in front of your mouth as you continued to heave out giggles.

Jaemin’s features softened as he watched your eyes and nose crinkle from your laughter. A smile etched itself onto his own face at the sight and sound of you laughing at him. Your cheeks were jutting out to make room for your smile and he was sure your laugh was the best sound he’d ever heard. He was glad he could make you laugh so hard. Glad that he had any positive effect on you at all, really.

While the two of you continued talking, the sky outside emptied itself of rain until it had none left. The sound of rain clattering to the ground outside was replaced with only the occasional drip from the roof. However, neither you nor Jaemin would admit that you’d noticed it, instead opting to stay in the bubble your laughter and conversation had made around you. That was, until a set of keys was hurtled towards Jaemin, who very nearly caught them. They landed on the floor behind him and he twisted around to pick them up.

“What the hell?” said Jaemin, throwing his words at his cousin who had just woken up.

“When you’re done, lock up for me will you?” he said as he picked up a backpack from behind the counter, “But don’t stay too long, Jaemin, if you keep looking at them like that I’m pretty sure your eyes will turn heart shaped.”

Jaemin scoffed, watching his cousin disappear out the back entrance without another word, leaving only the lights above the refrigerators on.

“Alright let’s go,” he stood up and held his hand out for you to take and you couldn’t help the shy smile that pushed its way onto your face.

After locking up, the two of you began wandering the streets of Seoul, with no particular destination in mind. Jaemin kept your hand in his as you walked. The rain had stopped, but it had left blotches of water for you to dodge everywhere you went.

The boy next to you had become completely silent, the only sounds he made being occasional hums as you spoke. So eventually, you decided to let the sounds of the city enter the space between you instead of trying to fill it with your words.

You made your way to your apartment, Jaemin still by your side. When the two of you stopped in front of your building you had the urge to lean closer to him, to close your eyes and let your lips meld together in a kiss. You wanted to be as close to him as you could in that moment, but when he only gave you a rushed ‘goodnight’ and turned away, your hopes sunk down to the floor of your heart. As you watched him walk away, you felt coldness set in for the first time since you’d met him.

—

Three days after your date with Jaemin, an old man walked into the bookstore with a delivery box in his arms. You went around the counter to take the box from him and sign for the package, frowning all the while. The man left without saying a word, but when he turned around, you caught sight of what must have been a chewed piece of gum behind his ear. Your shoulders jostled in disgust as soon as he was out of sight.

A moment later, Jisoo appeared from the backroom. “Was that Jaemin?”

“No,” you said blankly before looking up from the box you’d just cut open, “but I have met the mold guy now, and you’re right. The smell does hang around after he’s gone.”

“Jaemin better be dying,” she said, going around the counter to start entering the stock on the computer, “or I'll kill him myself for staying home.”

“I don’t think he stayed home,” your shoulders slumped as you said it, “He probably changed his shifts.”

Jisoo hummed in confusion, signalling for you to elaborate. Her eyes were still on the screen but her face was aimed towards you.

“He hasn’t talked to me since we went on that date,” you huffed, placing your hands on your hips. Lifting books all the time still hadn’t become any easier since you‘d started this job. You had, however, learned to appreciate air conditioning after the one day it didn’t work and you were reminded why no one else had turned a greenhouse into a store of some kind.

That pulled Jisoo’s eyes away from the screen, “You went on a what? And he didn’t—? Okay, no, fill me in,” she leaned her forearms on the counter.

“Well, he asked me on a date that night that he made that late delivery, then didn’t specify a day or time and then found me in a convenience store and whisked me away on a really, really lovely date and then he didn’t call or text and now he’s most likely changed shifts because he hates me,” you took a sharp breath in at the end of your rambling.

“That doesn’t sound like something Jaemin would do,” she said, “I mean the last part, the late delivery and suddenly taking you on a date sounds just like him.” She paused for a moment, eyes cast down as she thought, “Have you tried texting him?”

“Of course I have.”

“And?”

“Delivered,” you deadpanned.

The bell on the door rang behind you and you rounded the counter to take over from Jisoo while she asked the customer if they needed any help. Before she left your side though, she sent you a sad, close-mouthed smile and squeezed your arm.

That night, as soon as you’d changed into comfortable clothing and sat on your sofa to watch reruns of an old show, you picked up your phone and wandered over to your chat with Jaemin absent mindedly. As you opened it, you felt a slight pinch in your heart. Maybe being left on delivered was better.

—

You held a bucket above the lamp in the centre of the room, the plop from the drops of water entering it being washed away under the sound of the rain outside the store. You were in the process of trying to place the pile of books you had in your hand onto the table without letting the drops of water get on the lamp, when you heard the sound of the bell ringing above the door.

It had been a while — maybe almost two weeks — since you’d last seen Jaemin; since you’d last talked to him. But now he pushed his way into the shop, bringing with him a whirlwind of the weather outside.

You looked over to his form in the doorway: a box littered with giant dark spots in his hands and his hair nearly dripping from the rain despite the hood of his sopping yellow raincoat framing his face.

When he caught sight of you, your arms holding books and buckets alike and struggling with both of them, he set the box down on the ground near a bookshelf and rushed over to take the pile of books from you. He set them on the old couch and helped you move the heavy lamp in order to put the bucket in its place to catch the water.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, keeping your eyes away from him.

“No problem,” he said, putting his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

‘He has no business looking that pretty.’

“I’m sorry I haven’t been by in a while…”

You scoffed immediately, “You haven’t answered my texts in a while either.”

“I’m sorry about that too,” you can’t tell if he’s avoiding your eyes because he’s ashamed, or because he’s lying.

“Well, at least you don’t have to apologise for not reading them, because you most certainly did that,” you nearly felt bad as the words sprang out of your mouth, nearly.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” his voice was weak, so were his words.

On hearing the words drop from his lips, your anger rose like a wave at high tide.

“Oh really? Then what exactly did you mean to do, Jaemin? Because, taking someone out on a date — which, by the way, was the best date I’ve ever been on — and then leaving them outside their apartment with barely a ‘goodbye,’ and not calling or texting for a week doesn’t sound like you’re trying very hard not to hurt someone.” You took a breath, before muttering, “Not to mention the fact that you switched your shift just to avoid me.”

“Fuck, I know, okay? I’m so sorry,” he looked up at you then, eyes shining with sadness, the excited glow diminished to barely a flicker, “I know I was an asshole. It was the best night I’ve ever had and I was an idiot not to hold on to you and I’m incredibly sorry. If I could rewind and do it the right way I would.”

“Then why’d you do it, Jaem?” his shoulders slumped at the change in your voice, you were holding back tears and you’d grown so small in front of him. His arms nearly wound themselves around you of their own accord.

“Honestly?” he took a moment to collect his thoughts and arrange them into words, “I was scared. It sounds insanely cheesy and like it comes from a Taylor Swift song or something, but the way you made me feel was terrifying.”

“Great, thanks, you really know how to make someone feel better,” You rolled your eyes, a tear falling down your warm cheek in the process.

He didn’t have time to stop the airy laugh that escaped him, “I felt fearless. You made me feel like there was nothing in the world that could stop me, as long as I was with you.”

You wanted to hate him, wanted to yell that that was bullshit. You wanted to push him out the door and into the rain yourself. But, you couldn’t. You knew he was being sincere. You knew it, because that was exactly how you’d felt and it had scared you, too.

“So you ghosted me completely? Because that doesn’t sound so ‘fearless’ to me,” you tried to keep your resolve until you got the answer you needed.

“Like I said, I was an idiot. It was stupid of me to try to get rid of someone who made me feel like that. I just — I’ve fallen for you so hard and so fast that it scared me, because by the end of the night I knew I wasn’t going to stop falling any time soon, I still haven’t. And then what if I lost you? What if I did something wrong and made you hate me?” he sighed, reigning in his thoughts and emotions, “So, I ran before I could fall anymore. I tried to minimise the pain before it even started.”

“So then, why are you here now?”

“This past week has felt like the place you go to if you’re too shitty even for hell,” he took a small step towards you, “I’ve already fallen way too hard to turn back. And plus, Jisoo called me and told me you were genuinely really upset and well, there’s not much I wouldn’t do for you. So, even if it means possibly getting my heart shattered by you in the future, I’d gladly do anything to make you happy.”

“Jae—”

“Oh and Jisoo said she’d get me fired if I didn’t at least explain myself and I really need the money so— Ow!” He rubbed the spot on his bicep where you’d pinched him. He still held a smile on his face from his own joke.

He was probably the happiest you’d seen someone who’d just been pinched, and suddenly, you couldn’t hide your own smile.

“Will you forgive me then? Or at least let me make it up to you?”

“Depends on how you plan to make it up to me,” gathering yourself, you turned around to enter the back room Jisoo was always hiding in, Jaemin following you close behind.

“What about a date? I’m on my lunch break right now and I just saw this—”

You stopped in the doorway and interrupted him, “I still have to work for another four hours, text me when your shift is over.”

He nodded vigorously, “Yes, uh, okay perfect. I will! I’ll see you later tonight then?” He began backing out of the bookstore with a giant, goofy smile plastered on his face.

Just before he opened the door, you called his name, “Jaemin! Actually text me this time okay?”

“I swear I will!”

if you liked this, buy me a coffee!

taglist: @infnteen (if anyone wants to be added, send an ask or a message!)

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Text

Filthy Fucking Pet

A/N: Here’s the next requested fic from my Dirty Little Secret – Super Kinky List! In which Jax Teller owns and abuses you like an actual animal… this shit is mad intense lol and Jax is an absolute alpha male asshole. **Please note the warnings: This fic is all about the kinks, please do not read if this is not your thing!!**

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dom!Jax, extreme degradation/dehumanization (master/pet kink, sweat kink, foot worship, ass worship, Jax humiliates you to the max, realistically this is not at all a healthy relationship) Request: This Dirty Little Secret request (anon)

Word Count: ~2.6k

**Please note warnings above**

Triggering content after ‘Keep reading’ cut…

Seriously, this shit is super savage and sick and twisted. You’re basically Jax Teller’s personal house pet. In addition to kinky stuff like rimming and the general vibe of extreme submission, this is also the first fic I’ve posted on tumblr that features foot worshiping (I swear I have no interest in feet irl really – as with pretty much all of the kinks in my kinkiest fics honestly, it’s just a theoretical fantasy that I have only for Charlie, and only in theory… since theoretically I have no limits with my sex god king…)

Anywhore, enough ado about nothing! 🙃 All of the kinks in this fic are mentioned in the above warnings, so please just be mindful of them before you jump in…

***************

You used to be human. But now... it feels as if you've never been.

From the day you and Jackson first met, way back when, you had fallen in love with the crown prince. Fallen to your knees to serve him as his bitch and that's all you have been ever since. Pleasing him is your business. You're his little whore, and his personal pet: nothing more, nothing less.

Anything but human honestly. You're whatever Jax Teller wants you to be. His kinky sex kitten, his filthy fuckpig, or his damn dirty dog on a leash. It's the best. You don't speak, you don't eat—not human food, at least—you just serve at his feet. This is your whole existence. And God, you feel so fucking blessed.

You spend all your days in his house, day in and day out. The castle of the king of Charming. It's such a gift just to live under the same roof as him. Whenever he's not home, you miss him so badly it hurts. But you keep yourself busy by doing the housework. Constantly crawling on all fours, you use your grubby paws to scrub the floor, and sweep the dust off of his furniture.

Then once you're done with all your chores, you kneel down by the front door, and wait desperately for your master. Just counting the seconds until he returns.

Every time that it happens, the moment you hear the smooth roar of the engine as his bike gets in... then his powerful footsteps approaching the entrance... your heart starts to beat harder, faster. On fire in the presence of Jax. There is always a butt plug stuck deep in your ass, with a big fluffy fake tail attached. You're otherwise naked except for your collar and tags.

And today, as your master comes home after quite a long time far away, you are happier than you can take—your whole body quivers and quakes, and your tail starts to wag.

When Jax finally walks in, you gaze up at him with wide, worshipful eyes. He's so damn beautiful you could cry. You yelp and whimper a few times in greeting, to express how excited you are to be seeing your king. By now your human brain has certainly stopped working. Your hungry tongue hangs from your open mouth, breathing needy and loud, as subhuman growls and thick gobs of drool keep spilling out.

He smiles down at you as he enters, worn out from a long day of being Jax Teller, the baddest motherfucker ever. He must be exhausted, no doubt.

But still his gorgeous grin is big and genuine, bright as the sun, his slicked hair such a brilliant blonde, eyes as deep and as blue as the ocean. Clearly pleased at the sight of your tail-wagging motion, a signal of your pure devotion.

"Happy to see me?" he teases playfully, as if he has to ask. Typical Jax.

You nod gleefully in response to that. Your perfect master reaches down to pat your head, stroking your hair now as you purr for him, showing how much you adore him, as his faithful little pet.

"That's a good slut," he coos. "Go on, you know what to do."

Lowering your face to the ground, as ever eager to go down, upon those words he speaks, you hurry to remove his shoes. Those famously white sneaks. Then tug his socks off with your teeth—damp with a long day's worth of sweat, getting you drunk on his intoxicating scent, the pure essence of Jackson—then press sloppy kisses all over his beautiful feet. Servicing him like this is everything you need.

Ugh, you've missed him so much... full of love and submission, arousal dripping from your crotch, you stuff his socks into your mouth both at once, then lift your face off of the floor and sit back on your heels in your usual kneeling position. Your paws are propped under your chin as you blink up at him. He knows just what you want.

"Look at you, cunt. You wanna play fetch?" he says, chuckling as you bob your dumb head eagerly up and down. It's so much fun when he rolls his sweaty socks into a ball and throws it all over the house, for you to chase around. Playing that game is such a privilege. "Hmm, I would... but I'm not in the mood. Master's too fucking tired. Too bad for you, bitch."

Aw. Too bad indeed. Wallowing in self-pity, you pout and hang your head in a deep bow, but you know better than to plead. He turns to walk away now, and you follow at his feet. Crawling as you are it's always hard to keep up with his speed.

He's yawning by the time you reach the master bedroom. Some nights he has more energy when he gets home. Sometimes he'd slam you up against the wall and fuck you hard in every hole, wild and savage as an animal, filling you with his thick creamy cum, so deliciously full...

Apparently not tonight, though. You can't blame him, you know. You can't blame Jackson Teller for any damn thing, to be honest. Of course not. Because he is your fucking king. Whatever he does, he's your master, your god; everything about his whole existence is flawless.

You watch in rapture as he strips naked, carelessly flinging his kutte and the rest of his clothes to the floor, and flops facedown in bed to lay his weary head to rest. Fit for the king he is, his bed is big and plush and luxurious. At this late hour, he's too tired to even bother with a shower, you notice. Fuck yes—that's how you like it best.

Hopefully he'll let you use your tongue to clean up all his glorious sweat. Then whenever he leaves next to take care of business, you'll still get to savor his scent in his absence, inhaling it off of the sheets and the mattress. Your thirsty mouth is watering just at the thought of it, as you scurry all over the bedroom to clean up his mess.

Gathering up all the clothes that he scattered, you can't help but take a deep breath. Inhaling the essence of this sinfully sexy bastard.

You indulge in a whiff, as you slobber and sniff—focusing on the pits of his shirt so damp and sweaty it's obscene, and the rich-smelling crotch of his jeans, soaking up all the musk of his cock and his balls and his ass which smells so good it hurts—and especially his underwear... before dutifully dropping them into the hamper, along with the socks that you brought from downstairs. Though you hate washing Jax's sweet scent off of anything, one of your chores, of course, is to take care of all the laundry for your master.

"Get over here, bitch. You should clean up after me faster," he scolds, dominant voice husky and low, somewhat muffled as his head is partially sunken into one of his deluxe pillows. "Did you just get distracted by sniffing my sweat? You're such a greedy, filthy fucking pet."

You instantly start whimpering in apology, overflowing with self-hatred as you hasten toward the foot of his bed. You would say sorry, in so many words, if you could, as you should.

But you can't, given that you're not human. And your master knows that of course. All you want is to worship his body, and show him you're sorry, but you need permission before you can move from your place on the floor...

"Crawl up onto the bed," he commands, well assured you will follow his orders as fast as you can. "Go ahead, you pathetic whore. Make yourself useful and worship my back. Can't you see I'm exhausted and need to relax?"

Oh, how you love when he lets out his inner beast and treats you to the absolute most savage side of Jax.

Though you also love when he is soft, when he treats you with sweet talk and cuddles you up... this is the side of him you adore even more. His abuse is just what you live for.

"I want a full body massage," he orders, as you set to work on his muscular shoulders. "Yeah, use those paws. And that dirty mouth of yours... so dirty... mmm, that's it, lick all the sweat off my body. Desperate fucking dog."

You don't need him to tell you—that is exactly what you're dying to do—but it's so much better when he does. So damn hot. It's insane just how much you get off on his dirty talk.

And he keeps going on as you worship his perfect physique. While your hands rub and knead every inch, your mouth traces a line down the smooth divine curve of his spine, running down the black ink of the reaper design, wet lips puckering into passionate kisses all over his dewy skin, slurping up each new bead of fresh sweat as it dribbles and leaks. Every so often, his degrading words and his delicious groans of pleasure cut to cruel sadistic laughter, whenever he wants to humiliate you for being such a freak.

That just makes you love him even more. You're his subhuman whore, reduced into a literal pig as the maddening scent and flavor of your master makes you fucking squirm, wriggling like a worm, every sound out of your throat a squeal or a squeak. His savage strength makes you so weak...

"Unghh God, you're such a fucking animal," he snarls as you salivate all over his sculpted muscles. "Get that worthless face lower down where you belong. Yeah, you know what you want. Suffocate in my asshole."

And that very instant, you do just as told. You wedge your whole damn head into the sacred space between his sweaty cheeks, diving in deep, digging for gold. It's salty and sweet and so so fucking hot. You don't even care whether you'll ever come up for air or not. He's everything you need and all you want to breathe. Your king Jax Teller is a motherfucking god...

When he growls and reaches back with both of his strong hands to push his palms against your skull and smash your face even deeper inside his crack, the pure aggression of the act gives you a goddamn heart attack.

Before you can even recover from that, he suddenly shifts—you gasp for a split second as his magnificent body lifts.

But the next thing you know, he is squatting low over your mouth, then sitting the fuck down till your tongue is lodged deep in his tight sweaty hole and his big heavy balls are completely smothering your snout.

Jax throws his head back with a guttural groan as he starts to grind, taking your mouth for a ride. You could die just from that fucking sound, from the taste, from the feel of his full body weight as he shudders and sighs, dominating your face. Degrading you just right. You could do this all night. Then he looks back down, bright blue gaze locking with your eyes, open wide, sex-crazed and lost in a mad loving daze.

Is this fucking real? Even as it happens, you honestly can't fathom how good it feels...

And there's no way that you wouldn't notice, in this position of pure bliss, your master's fucking enormous cock. While you drown in his ass, savoring your sweet feast, that massive piece of meat is throbbing right above you like a beast, hard as a rock.

"Fuuuck, that's it—eat my ass, you good-for-nothing pig..." Jax explosively grunts as his hot sphincter squeezes and strangles your tongue. "Look what you're doing to my dick. You're gonna make me fucking cum. That what you want?"

Ohhh Godddd...

He goes on before you can respond. "Well, that's just what you're gonna get. Ughh—such a good little pet..." he praises as he begins pumping himself, the pink tip of his dick giving off the rich scent of his juices, each sweet drop that glistens, all glossy and wet. Some of his precum drips to your forehead.

But that's not where his full load is going to land. No, that's all gonna go down your dirty whore throat. Jax then clutches the top of your head with one hand, fingers rooting hard into your scalp, making you gulp and gasp, as you suck on his ass, while his other fist jacks off his perfect dick, faster and harder with each fucking stroke. He's so hot it's a joke.

"Shit—gonna cum—take it, bitch... take it all till you choke..." he moans, pulling his ass swiftly off of your slobbering lips and then pressing the tip of his cock onto your twitching tongue. Blessing you with a huge load of sweet white hot cum. By this point you're struck dumb.

You can feel your eyes roll to the back of your skull, as you savor his flavor and swallow him whole. You are so goddamn grateful. Jackson Teller is feeding your body, your heart and your soul.

You're reminded right now of what you've always known: that you are his to own. He is more than human, so much more, all that you live for... and you are so much less and always have been. Falling in these roles just feels so fucking natural. He is a fucking god—everything you are not—and you're a fucking animal.

Once he is done using you as his subhuman cum dump, your master is gracious enough to let you clean him up. You wrap your lips around his flawless cock to lick and suck off every drop. Pressing French kisses all across his freshly drained balls and his perfect pink asshole. Hoping that your beloved master knows he's your entire world.

"Good girl," Jax sighs, as your face nestles in the space between his strong powerful thighs. "Bet you wish you could sleep with me here in this bed. But that would be wrong. Don't you know where you belong, you filthy little pet?"

Ah, yes—you could never forget. With a whimper of submissive bliss, you give your master one last kiss, right on the tip of his delicious dick. Admiring how even right after he came it’s still so stiff and throbbing and thick.

And then you climb off of his mattress and crawl into your tiny pet bed, set right by his nightstand. The spot where you're so blessed to sleep beside this divine god of a man. You curl yourself up nice and small, into a little ball, so you can fit. And all the while you're still squealing like a pig. You just can't help it.

The king of Charming huffs out one of his majestic snickers at the sound of you grunting and groveling, so low-down and pathetic. "Goodnight, pig."

Your heart flutters—so grateful and glad that he calls you that, just what you are to him, always will be... so fucking filthy... you know that he is pleased, and his pleasure is all that matters.

You already can't wait till the morning when he'll let you drink from his dick, hopefully. But till then you'll just sleep, knowing that all your dreams will be sweet, for you dream of one thing only: pleasing your master.

And you're living that dream, as unreal as it seems. Your real life is as good as it gets.

You'll go on forever loving every minute of living with Jax Teller—living for Jax Teller, now and forever—as his filthy fucking pet.

***************

… Sooo I know that was SUPER kinky shit, but I hope there are some filthy bitches who enjoyed it, and would love to hear if you did!! 😅❤️

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

Text

I Got You (Part 1)

Summary: The reader is celebrating her two year anniversary with her fiance when her best friend from childhood, Jensen, calls. Something’s wrong with him and he tries to play it off once he remembers what night it is for her but the reader isn’t budging and that may be a good thing for the both of them...

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Word Count: 4,000ish

Warnings: language, angst, vomiting, lying, mention of alcoholism, fluff

A/N: This is a little different for me but I’m really please with how it turned out. Enjoy!

_______

“This looks delicious, babe,” said Andrew as he sat down at the table. You hummed, a little annoyed that he hadn’t let you know he’d be home two hours late. On your anniversary. Your two year anniversary. You wouldn’t mind if he ever let you know but he never, never did and always got mad when you brought it up. You poked at the food and he took a bite, making a face. “It’s a little cold.”

“Well that’s what happens when you reheat it in the microwave,” you said. He bit his tongue and continued to eat quietly, a bit of tension still in the air.

“How was your day?” he asked when he was nearly done with his food.

“Fine. Yours?” you asked, picking at your salad and ignoring the chicken.

“Good. I’m sorry I was late, babe. Why don’t we go out to eat?” he asked.

“It’s our anniversary. I wanted to make you dinner,” you said.

“I ate it,” he said. “You seem hungry still.”

“I’m fine. I just want to watch a movie or something,” you said. He didn’t say anything as he ducked into the bedroom and changed out of his suit and into some sweats and a hoodie. You cleaned up the dishes and went to the bedroom. You grabbed leggings and an old big t-shirt of Jensen’s you’d stolen from his place somewhere around season 10 if you had to guess by the number just under the back collar. You padded into the bathroom and changed out of your skinny jeans and crop top. You took off the new black lingerie you had on and put on something more comfortable. Andrew wouldn’t even notice.

You walked out of the bedroom and found him on the couch, watching some action movie. You sat down in his side and saw your phone light up at the end of the couch. A glance showed it was Jensen and that you had four missed calls from him.

“Did you put my phone on silent?” you asked, reaching over for it.

“It is our anniversary,” he said.

“Yeah and I’m also one of Jensen’s emergency contacts,” you said, rolling your eyes and quickly answering. “Jay?”

“Hey, Y/N,” he said. Something was wrong. His voice was off and it took him a minute to talk again. “Can you come over? I just found out something and I could use you right now.”

“I thought you were in Toronto this week to film for The Boys,” you said.

“I was. Flew down to Dallas for my brother’s birthday earlier. More free time and all, trying to see the family more,” he said.

“What’s he want?” sighed Andrew. You ignored him and heard Jensen take a shaky breath.

“Did someone die?” you asked quietly.

“No,” he said. “No. I found out something though and...I just grabbed a rental car and drove home the past few hours. I had to get out of there.”

“Are you alright?” you asked, already hating the pit forming in your stomach. You’d known him most of your life. You didn’t remember life without him to be honest. Sure, he was away a lot when he filmed but he was back more often now that he was doing shorter gigs and you’d always been there for each other, even during the really busy years. “Buddy.”

“No, I don’t think I’m okay,” he said. He was quiet before you heard him suck in a gasp. “Fuck. It’s your anniversary. Shit, I’m sorry, Y/N. God, like Andrew doesn’t hate me enough already. I’m so sorry. Please enjoy your night, I’ll be fine.”

“You’re my best friend and you are so not alright,” you said. “I’m gonna come over.”

“It’s our anniversary!” said Andrew as you turned to glare at him.

“Y/N, don’t. I’m-” said Jensen as you got up.

“Where the fuck are you going?” said Andrew.

“Jensen is important to me, Andrew. He’s always gonna be important to me. I know you don’t like him but he needs me right now. You don’t even care. You didn’t care about dinner or the anniversary or putting in a little bit of effort. I used to really like you too, you know. When we got engaged though, I saw what you really wanted. Well guess what. I’m not your mother. I’m not your maid and I faked it every time,” you said.

“You’re mad at me? He’s the one ruining our anniversary!” said Andrew.

“Y/N, I’m gonna go. I’m sorry,” said Jensen before you heard him hang up. You groaned and went over to the front hall to grab your jacket. You shoved your phone in your pocket as Andrew stalked over.

“Gonna go sleep with your other boyfriend, hm?”

“Something bad happened to him and frankly, the day I introduced you to him was the day you started all this. You have hated my relationship with him from the start. He has tried so hard to be your friend and you’re always mean and you leave him out. Even your friends think it’s a dick move.”

“You want your best friend or me? Cause I don’t like him and I’m never going to,” he said.

“I hope you treat the next girl better,” you said. You took off your ring and slammed it on the front table before grabbing your keys and tugging on your boots.

“Whore,” he mumbled.

“I’d rather be his whore than your wife any day. I’ll move my stuff out tomorrow,” you said. You slammed the door shut after yourself and took a deep breath. You weren’t as upset as you thought you’d be. You’d been considering taking a break with him for the past few months but there was no going back after that. Jensen had never been anything but kind to him and always respectful of your and Andrew’s time together.

You skipped down the stairs of the apartment building and down to the garage, rushing over to your car quickly. Something was still very wrong with Jensen and you needed to get to him asap.

“Jensen,” you said twenty minutes later, finding him outside on the balcony off his bedroom, sitting in a chair with his knees tucked to his chest. There was a half full large bottle of whiskey on the ground and the plastic wrapper from where he’d opened it. His back was to you and he turned his head away as you stepped outside. “Jay, what happened.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. You put a hand on his forehead and forced him to look at you. He was drunk. He didn’t start drinking until he’d hung up with you obviously. He was upset too and it was so rare of you to see him cry.

“Come on,” you said, grabbing his arm. He let you tug him up and into his bathroom. You flipped on the light in the toilet and sat him down in front of it. “Did you eat dinner? Yes or no?”

“No,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

“Did you eat on the plane? At the airport?”

He shook his head again and you sighed.

“You just did about, I don’t know, seven, eight shots on an empty stomach. You’re not a kid anymore so if Taylor Gregson’s senior party is anything to go by, I expect you to start puking in the next three minutes.”

“Go away,” he said, wiping off his face.

“Yeah, see no, not happening. I’m also staying here tonight whether you want me to or not. Now sit, throw up in the toilet please, and I will make you something bland to eat and get you some not snot covered clothes, okay?”

“Why are you so nice to me?” he asked. He stared up at you and you instantly knelt down, giving him a hug as he hiccuped.

“Cause you’re my best friend and I love you,” you said. “Jensen. What happened?”

“Don’t wanna…” he said, shaking his head.

“Did someone die?” you asked.

“No,” he said again.

“What did you find out? Something with your brother? You said you were at his birthday party.”

“Later please,” he said quietly.

“Okay,” you said. You rubbed up and down his back and you felt him lurch a bit before you shut your eyes and felt wetness on your back. “Did you just throw up on me?”

“Yeah. Sorry,” he said.

“Really is like Taylor Gregson’s party all over again,” you said. “You stay here and I’m gonna take a shower.”

“I got it in your hair I think,” he said. He lurched again but you turned him towards the bowl and he was successful that time. “Ow.”

“Relax,” you said, running a clean hand through his hair for a beat. His body untensed a little but he was still upset and making a mess of himself. “Five minutes and then the shower is yours.”

You took about ten to deal with your hair and you ducked next door to his closet, finding some fresh clothes for the two of you. He managed to not get any sick on himself so after wiping his face off good and getting him to brush his teeth, he looked a little better. You found some pancake mix in the cupboard and started to work on that while he changed. He eventually came out, red eyed and sniffling a bit but he looked sober at least.

“Andrew’s gonna kill me for ruining his night,” he said.

“Andrew and I are over,” you said, waiting for the pan to heat up. Jensen stared as you shook up the jug. “He has always been an ass to you.”

“Y/N. I’m just...he’s your fiance. You’re supposed to prioritize him.”

“He’s supposed to respect people I care about. He is immature and arrogant and mean and he sucks so bad in bed. God, I’ve been dying to tell you how shitty ass of a fuck he is. The most damn selfish little prick I’ve ever met in my life and-”

“Y/N,” said Jensen. You took a deep breath and poured some batter on the pan. “You didn’t breakup cause of me, did you?”

“No. You were just the last straw. You didn’t call cause you wanted a ride or to talk about something that could be done later. You need me. I don’t care if it’s two in the morning, Christmas, my wedding day. You ever call me like that, you ever make me worry like this, I’ll be there in a fucking second,” you said. He lowered his head as you got a plate out for his dinner.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” he said.

“If you thought I was busy, why didn’t you call Jared? He lives three minutes away. Three,” you said. He shrugged and you sighed. “I never want to see you doing something like that ever again. I never want you to-”

“I’m not a child,” he shot back, suddenly shooting daggers at you, his face hard and green eyes a too dark shade.

“My father is an alcoholic. You want to call him up? We’ll call him up right fucking now and he’ll tell you how it nearly destroyed his life. He is twenty years sober and he can’t have a drink for the rest of his life because he used it when he was in pain. You will never, Ackles, and I mean never, drink to mask pain again in your life,” you said. The pancake was burning and you broke away your glare, dumping the burnt batter into the trash. When you walked back, Jensen was crying at the counter again and you shut your eyes. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. I just...you know how my mom used to have me sleepover your house in the middle of a school week cause he was drunk and she didn’t want me to see it. You know how much it used to bother me. Little shrimpy ass Jensen, you would always tell me to sleep in your bed and you took the sleeping bag. I let you take care of me my whole life. You’re bigger than me, stronger than me. You will never worry about money again. You gave me rent money when I got laid off and refused to let me pay it back. You drove me home when I got drunk at a bar after a fight with Andrew. You stood up for me in seventh grade cause I liked science and Harrison Pitt was a dick to me back then. This is not me treating you like a child, Jensen. This is me helping my best friend because he’s in pain and I can’t stop it. All I can do is make him damn pancakes.”

“Can I have maple syrup?” he asked quietly after a few minutes.

“Of course. I’ll get butter too,” you said. You cut up a few pieces and gave them along with the syrup to him. You made up more pancakes to reheat for breakfast, Jensen sniffling to himself as he ate. “Feel any better?”

“A little,” he said. “You were always too good for Andrew.”

“I always knew you didn’t like him,” you said. “But you tried. That’s what was important and a concept he apparently couldn’t understand. Good riddance. Oh and I kinda need a place to crash for a bit after my epic walkout.”

“I got plenty of room,” he said. He pushed his plate away when he finished and washed it up in the sink, grabbing the pan as you put away the leftovers.

“Even miserable you have far better manners,” you said with a small smile. He left the pan on the counter to dry and you wrapped your hands around his arm, leading him back to his bedroom and sitting him down. “It’s later. What happened?”

“My whole family’s been lying to me my whole life,” he said. He sat against the headboard and wiped off his nose. “My great aunt, like the super old one, she made a comment and then made a little face like I wasn’t supposed to know something. I mentioned it to my brother and he seemed coy but I knew then it was true. So I confronted my parents and...well it turns out that I’m adopted.”

“You’re what?” you said, scrunching up your face.

“Adopted. When I was an infant. They were never going to tell me,” he said.

“I don’t understand. I mean you kinda look like your dad and even your brother a bit and your sister has your nose.”

“Coincidence,” he said. “I’m a reject baby. I was given up because the couple that had me? They didn’t want me. I looked them up when I got home. Two hot shot lawyers at some big firm in New York. Three kids. Didn’t want this fuck up of one though. I was an accident. A mistake.”

“Jensen,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. “Jensen, you’re not...so many people get adopted. Your family loves you. You’re so much better off with who you wound up with. They adopted you because they loved you. Jensen they-”

“She used to be my mom’s friend. They adopted me because they felt sorry for me. They didn’t love me. They pitied me. They lied to me my whole life. I heard stories about when she was pregnant and the labor and they were all lies. My brother’s always known. My sister is the only one who didn’t. The whole family knew. They knew about the pathetic little baby that no one wanted the whole time,” he said.

“Hey,” you said, climbing into his lap and grabbing his arms. “You are not pathetic. I have met your parents and your family. Some nights when we were little I wanted them to be my parents. I wanted normal parents. You had the ideal family. You have the ideal family.”

“They admitted they were never going to tell me,” he said. “How fucked up is that?”

“They made a mistake in not telling you. You should have known all along,” you said, fixing the stray hairs falling over his forehead. “If I know anything though it is that they love you unconditionally. You gotta forgive them. They wanted you. You are their son and brother. They adopted you because they loved you. It sounds like your mom stopped being friends with this woman. I wonder why that was,” you said. He shut his eyes and rested his head on your chest. You shushed him as he got upset again, kissing the top of his head.

“You’re not hiding any secrets from me are you?” he asked, arms wrapped tightly around your back.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out since I was thirteen years old,” you said. He raised his head up and you smiled. “S’okay. I know I’m not your-”

He kissed you out of nowhere, hand cupping the back of your neck, one long, smooth motion as you felt wetness on your cheeks. He moved back slowly, dropping his hands away, swallowing thickly.

“Sorry,” he said. You smiled and moved closer, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” you said. “Always thought I wasn’t your type.”

“You were. I was too young to understand what it was that I felt. No one’s ever felt like you. And I can’t lose you too so I played it safe. Now...I’d rather get this out of the way so I can feel miserable for the rest of my life.”

“You think our friendship is over?” you asked.

“You were engaged an hour ago and I just kissed you. Of course it’s-”

“You’re ridiculous, Ackles, I swear,” you mumbled against his lips. “Like I said, I will always be there. Now I’d love nothing more than to fulfill every teenage fantasy and adult one if I’m being fair right now. But tonight’s not the night for that. Tonight, let out whatever you’re feeling and tomorrow, we’ll talk to your folks.”

You sat back and smiled, Jensen staring at you with soft wet eyes and you remembered the little boy waiting outside school, trying not to be upset. You lay down next to him and recalled the day you met.

“Hi,” you said, the boy turning away. “Why you crying?”

“I’m not crying,” he said.

“You look like you’re crying,” you said, walking around his other side. You heard a car horn honk and looked ahead to see your dad behind the wheel of the car. You looked around and saw no other other cars there, the boy wiping his face off. “Where’s your mom or dad?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “They said they’d be right here after school.”

“Y/N!” called your dad.

“We’re waiting!” you said back, the boy looking at you.

“For what?” asked your dad.

“What’s your name?” you asked.

“Jensen Ackles,” he said quietly.

“Jensen Ackles’ parents!” you said. Your dad sighed but he just sat back in his seat and turned up the radio. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“I know. You got the blue backpack. All the other girls got pink ones,” he said.

“I like blue. I like pink too but I like blue more,” you said. “I like the cars on your backpack.”

“Thanks. Do you like cars?”

“Yeah,” you said. You sat down and took off your bag, pulling out a few hot wheels from the bottom of it. “Mom said I could bring them as long as I didn’t lose ‘em. Wanna play while we wait?”

“Okay,” he said, taking a seat next to you.

By the time you and Dean were being called over, the sky was a little dimmer and you saw your dad talking to a couple outside the car.

“I think I gotta go home now,” you said.

“Me too. I see you tomorrow,” he said, holding out the car he’d been playing with.

“You keep it in case you got to wait again. Then you’re not bored. I’ll wait with you though if dad says it’s okay,” you said. “Okay?”

“Okay,” he said. He gave you a hug and you smiled as you returned it. “Do you want to be best friends?”

“Yeah! That’s so cool!” you said.

“Awesome!” he said. You both packed up and ran over to your parents, your dad chuckling as you waved bye to Jensen.

“Make a new friend on your first day?” he asked.

“That’s Jensen. He’s my best friend forever now,” you said. “That’s how it works. I know. Jensen’s got an older brother and he told him all about it.”

“I see. Well buckle up. I’m sure mom’s wondering where we are,” he said. You climbed in the back and saw his parents give a wave as they drove past. “That was real nice of you to talk to that boy when he was upset like that.”

“I didn’t like him crying, made me feel funny,” you said. “Like my chest had a tummy ache.”

“Oh, you’re going to prom with that boy aren’t you,” he mumbled.

“What’s prom?”

“A very, very long way away. Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

“I remember our first day too,” said Jensen. “I’m always a blabbering mess around you, aren’t I.”

“I think I understand what that tummy ache in my chest was. It’s that same feeling I got when you called earlier. I think we really were too young to understand back then what it was that we were experiencing.”

“You mean how I’ve been in love with you since I was five years old,” he chuckled. “Y/N. I still feel really, and I mean really, really shitty. But thank you for coming over. I need you, more than even I know I think.”

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” you said. You kissed him and he smiled, closing his eyes. “You want to sleep? You had a long flight and drive, not to mention day.”

“Yeah, I want to crash. I’m exhausted,” he said. You moved to get up but he sat up with you, watching you carefully. He swallowed again and you threw back the covers, climbing underneath them.

“Not going anywhere,” you said. He got underneath with you and heard him breathe a deep breath, no sniffles in sight for the first time all night. “Jensen.”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“It’ll be okay,” you said. “I promise.”

“I know. Not looking forward to tomorrow is all,” he said.

“Well I’m going with so...can’t be all bad,” you said.

“No. Like you said back then, I stick with you, I’ll be alright,” he said. “Can you get the room light?”

“Sure,” you said. You hopped out of bed and turned off the big light, walking over to his nightstand and finding the switch. You smiled when you saw the hot wheel car on there, Jensen smiling softly as he looked up at you. “Night Jensen.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

______

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles #jensen x reader #rpf #jensen x #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #jensen fanfiction

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dreamingsnowflake2013 · 3 years

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They are so freaking domestic and married and functional the whole time I can’t!!! They bicker and banter with ease of two people who feel secure and confident around each other and know each other’s boundaries and limits and don’t need to worry about offending the other person or the conversation turning antagonistic which allows them this sort of brutal honesty, at times, and frank criticism.

Issei gets the edamame shell husband treatment and he literally can’t believe it Hayame did that to him right in front of his salad when it already helped to ruin her previous relationship. It seems Hayame didn’t understand his lesson about the difference between the edamame shell and skin, well, she was in the middle of confronting her cheating ex so I suppose she was otherwise engaged.

Though, poor Issei doesn’t know the depth of Hayame’s culinary disability until he discovers her special lemon and cereal gyoza! HA! I admire that he doubles down on his criticism and even if he tries to back pedal, he simply can’t make himself lie to her even to please her when it’s so awful.

Unlike her ex-husband, he doesn’t put on a fake smile and swallows it so he wouldn’t hurt Hayame’s feelings but actually tells her it sucks bigly, showing that not only won’t he ever lie to her or keep secrets from her, he won’t feed her white lies to avoid conflict either. You almost never see portrayed in Asian dramas how these little mundane details can lead to a complete failure of a relationship once they pile up. Quite the opposite, they often depict swallowing food that makes you puke as something romantic and a proof of love without giving any thought to the fact whether the person can manage that for the rest of their life, considering it’s suggested most of the OTPs live happily ever after. The issue shows that Hayame and Issei are already more than one step further regarding the growth and functionality of their relationship than she ever came with Masahiro, illustrating their suitability. It’s not about a relationship being conflict-free, it’s about confronting the problems, argue about them even though it’s exhausting and uncomfortable and solve them through communication and misucommunication, not about hushing the issues up and staying silent about them in order to avoid arguments.

The drama might be called Promise Cinderella but it has been turning the Cinderella stereotypes on their head since episode 1. One of them is Hayame not fitting the bill of a girl who is amazing at cooking, sewing, reading, embroidering, polite conversation, dancing and generally being more princess-like than all the princesses and noblewomen, even though her mother died in her childhood and she couldn’t have taught her all those things, neither could her father, nor the mice or the other animals she spent all her whole time with. Let’s face it, Cinderella has always been the fairytale counterpart of Richardson’s Pamela and Hayame - divorced, almost thirty, penniless and jobless - is the modern real-life version of an orphaned abused virgin fallen on hard times.

On the other hand, while Hayame might share Cinderella’s origin story of her mother dying at an early age, this sad event tragically affects her whole life in a much more realistic and darker way. Her father falls into a depression and becomes neglectful and she has to grow up overnight, having to learn everything by herself as she is left with no one to teach her, guide her and defend her so she ends up turning into a fiercely independent tomboy who is a self-taught cook and, as such, her cooking, well, sucks. She is literally the farthest thing from a Mary Sue ever.

Then, Issei may be a modern version of a prince but while young, he has been taught since an early age and has a very unconventional unique upbringing in a modern world - he is the one who excels at cooking (because he had someone who actually taught him), can tie kimonos, knows the proper etiquette, can arrange flowers and knows their language and meaning.

You would expect all those things from a woman, not a man; however, he is not only educated and good at them, he has a natural talent for them. In this way, the drama re-invents the Cinderella story, gives it a new original meaning and a breath of fresh air.

Thus, you can see all these details in which Hayame’s relationship with Issei differs from her marriage - they are left to live together alone in what is basically a simulated marriage, but she doesn’t end up in the traditional role of a woman and housewife whose purpose is to provide dinner/food for her husband who comes back from work. She used to work back then, too, even if only part time. Now, it’s her who works full-time while Issei works part-time but despite it they share the cooking and he, fittingly, ends up being the better cook, completely changing up the dynamic of the traditional roles both in the original fairytale and male/female relationships in general.

Except for a brief denial stage caused by his confused feelings, Issei has always been honest with Hayame, sometimes brutally so, be it regarding the major issues or mundane everyday things like her cooking skills.

He treats her the way she wants her to treat him, and, as a result, he rightfully expects the same honesty and consideration in return from her. He doesn’t want any lies or secrets between them, he wants a conversation not a deafening silence, regardless whether they are lovers or friends.

He wants honesty and equality and instead, Hayame is trying to dismiss him as a child again in an attempt to avoid the problem because it’s uncomfortable and she doesn’t want to have a messy argument or worry him. She should have known by now that that’s exactly the attitude which led to the failure of her marriage. Not that they are an excuse or justification for cheating, but Masahiro raised some good points about the things he disliked about her and it’s time Hayame learns from her past mistakes.

Marriage/romantic relationship is not a one-person show, the point of it being you are not alone to deal with your problems, some burdens should be shared and if not, the other person feels left out because their partner keeps secrets from them which then leaves many opportunities for misunderstandings and creates a rift that keeps growing between the couple. Hayame’s greatest strengths - her self-reliance and independence - which allowed her to survive on her own so far become her greatest weaknesses and drag her down now.

Issei immediately realizes Hayame has been putting a mask around him, trying to make herself look cheerful and happy, he can see through it right away as she can never fool him because he knows her so well and, frankly, she couldn’t pretend even if her life depended on it just like him. She fails to notice that this sort of consideration and selflessness are a double-edged sword.

It’s both apt and ironic she tries to dismiss him as a child because her stubborness, discomfort and avoidance maker HER appear like a child and Issei the one 10 years older with his patience, calm and and persistence on discussing and solving the whole issue. This time it’s him who calls her out on her bullshit and childishness.

Issei notices everything about Hayame, including her mood swings which also refer to the mixed signals she’s been sending him, and how could he not when he always watches her so searchingly as if he were trying to look inside her soul, trying to spot every quiver of her lashes and nervous press of her lips.

Thus, he can sense and predict what she plans to do because he can read her like an open book after watching her so closely for so long but also because he’s been there where Hayame is right now - he had been running away for the past 10 years before he met her and she saved him by making him realize he had been fucking up his life that way, therfore he gets angry seeing her repeating his mistakes.

Moreover, he is scared shitless he may one day wake up and end up like Seigo, abandoned by her, not even left with a direction where to look at her, because she thinks she is not good enough and fears she might drag him down and mess up his life.

Despite it all, Issei doesn’t think about himself first, he thinks about Hayame and what it is she truly wants. She feels so lost and conflicted, fretting and completely panicking and he pretty much tells her ‘fuck the world and other people! You are the only person who matters! Think about yourself first and do what you truly wish to do even if it makes them hate you.’ And from the hopeful way she looks at him, it’s exactly what she needs to hear and wants to truly do but lacks the courage to go through with it just yet.

Finally, THIS SHOT on the sofa! It pretty much says ‘married, in the middle of marital crisis and before a huge life-changing conversation’!

#promise cinderella #maeda gordon #nikaido fumi #gordon maeda #jdrama #fumi nikaido #analysis #sorry for the length #but there is #so much to #unpack here

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

bao | myg | 1

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Min Yoongi is always late to start work. He’s late in starting a lot of things. Like telling you he loves you.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of parental injury/surgery; it’s actually SO MUCH fluff; non-idol!AU; (slightly) jealous deliveryboy!Yoongi x hardworking chef!reader ft. bao fiend, next-door neighbor, model!Taehyung; Yoongi gets injured T_T

it’s Weverse magazine Yoongi; can’t be helped he looked too good and yes it’s another fic revolving around food like mango | jjk (less dark this time lmao), guess that’s my schtick now

Men in leather jackets?

Yes.

Men who liked to wear silver rings?

Double yes.

Men whose name was Min Yoongi?

Fuck, no.

But, unfortunately, Min Yoongi was both of the first two things, when annoyed you to no end. You could hate Min Yoongi, easy, if he wasn’t attractive, but the truth was that he was very attractive, with his dark hair, cat-like eyes that were the color of black coffee, large pale hands, silver earrings, silver bracelets, and raspy deep voice.

The infuriating thing was, he was always late.

“Sorry,” he apologized for the billionth time. “I had to do something.”

You always have to do something, you thought, pursing your lips as you pushed the paper bags towards him. Each one was stapled with a small piece of paper, indicating the address and complete order of the patron.

“I’m going to fire you if you’re late again,” you warned.

Yoongi grinned as he gathered the bags. He had pretty white teeth too. Fuck. You even liked seeing his stupid teeth. The fuck was wrong with you?

“Nah, you won’t fire me. I’m your favorite delivery boy.”

“You’re my only delivery boy,” you shot back as he retreated.

“Thus, being your favorite,” he chuckled, out the back door once again.

You sighed deeply as you watched the black leather depart. He was wearing black jeans today that showed off his long legs, with a tear in the right knee. Why did he have to look so good? And why was he always late? It was very annoying. You checked your phone, texting your father, asking how he was today.

You spent all day taking orders and prepping them for Yoongi to deliver. In between, you continued making buns of all kinds, from savory pork buns to sweet red bean buns. You father owned a small Chinese-style bao shop, but since his back surgery, he hadn’t been able to work for a while. Your mother was taking care of him and complaining quite a bit about having another baby, except this one was bigger and more demanding and sounded way too much like your father.

You just laughed through the phone as your dad asked for more water and a foot massage.

Being their only daughter, you naturally had some experience making bao, but actually running the business was much harder. You weren’t sure how your dad did it all these years to be honest. There used to be a counter where people could drop by and pick up a bun for their lunch break, but the person who worked at that counter used to be your mother or you, and that wasn’t happening if you were making them all day. You weren’t as fast making them as your father either.

Therefore, the small shop ended up being converted to delivery only, and your only delivery boy was late to arrive all the damn time.

Okay, he wasn’t a delivery boy per se, because he was definitely an adult man, but he might as well have been a boy with how often you scolded him about being late. At least he was good at delivering the actual orders on time.

You heard a knock at the back door and scooped up two steaming roast pork buns, brushing the excess flour off your hands before opening the door.

A bright, jovial, boxy smile greeted you.

“Hey!”

Your only exception to delivery only. Kim Taehyung, your next-door neighbor.

You handed him the pork buns and he handed you some bills.

“Keep the change,” he grinned, biting into the bun and gasping a little at the heat. “Mmm, delicious as always.”

You chuckled. “You need to learn how to cook for yourself.”

He pouted, chewing noisily. “Ugh, it’s so hard. Teach me.”

You rolled your eyes. “I tried. You burned it somehow. I don’t even know how that’s possible.”

He shrugged. “I’m better at watching anyway.”

You looked over his attire. A brown suit with a cream t-shirt, green silk scarf around his neck. His hair was dark brown again. “What are you advertising today?” Taehyung was a model. Sometimes you saw him on billboards or ads in the supermarket.

Taehyung shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m going to the agency right now.” He held up the buns. “But I gotta eat first because it’s gonna be long day.”

You chuckled. “Better go before your manager calls.”

As if on cue, a colorful tune erupted from Taehyung’s pants, chirping loudly. Taehyung shoved one of the buns entirely into his mouth and spoke around it, words muffled.

“Ugh, thanks again. Let’s hang out when I can!” he called as he ran off, snatching his phone from his pocket, mumbling into it as he chewed.

You smiled ruefully, watching him hurry away. “Yeah, like that will ever happen.”

Taehyung was far too busy to hang out with you. You were surprised he still lived in the same apartment complex you did, because he made decent money now, but he said it was because his dog Yeontan didn’t like change and his parents lived nearby so he could drop him off there when he was working.

“Your boyfriend or something?”

You suddenly noticed Yoongi standing next to the door. You jumped back, staring at him. He raised an eyebrow.

“How long have you been there?”

Yoongi shrugged. “As long as you’ve been making googly eyes at him.”

You frowned. “I’m not making googly eyes at Taehyung.”

Yoongi smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. “Ah, he has a name. And no honorifics. Very suspicious, if you ask me.”

Nobody asked you! You wondered if he needed both arms to deliver food, because you were pretty close to breaking at least one of them. Surely, he could drive one-handed? You were a bit disturbed on how imagining that seemed somewhat attractive to you.

“He’s my next-door neighbor,” you huffed, turning on your heel and going back into the shop to pack more orders for Yoongi.

“Next door to you puss–”

You spun around and shoved a pork bun into Yoongi’s mouth. He nearly choked, grabbing it as you let go, his fingertips brushing against yours for a moment. A strange tingle travelled through your palm, going up your arm. You ignored it, purposefully slipping buns into paper packages for an order for a local office nearby.

“It’s your lunchtime anyway,” you said impassively, not looking at him.

If you did, you would have noticed the pink tinge on Yoongi’s cheeks, the furrow in his brows as he chewed on the bun, watching you. You would have noticed the way his jaw seemed to be tense, thinking about what he just saw, holding tightly to the pork bun.

Yoongi knew you were the one who made it. It tasted great, almost as good as your father’s. He knew your father well, having been the on-and-off delivery boy through the years, from high school to university to now. Being an underground music producer didn’t make him a ton of money, but he didn’t care too much. If he was more popular, he would have to quit.

And he really didn’t want to quit, because he was staring at your back, hoping one day you’d notice he was watching you.

He knew who Kim Taehyung was. Taehyung came every day. Maybe even for the same reason as him. He never interrupted your interactions with Taehyung before, because it seemed rude. They were always short anyway. But, of course, Taehyung noticed you were alone now, and Taehyung had been dressing nicer, looking cuter, flirting more and more. Yoongi doubted you noticed, but it still bothered him all the same.

Yoongi sighed inwardly as he picked up another bun. You shot him a glare but he shrugged.

“Might make me taller,” was his response.

You raised your eyebrows. “You want to be a fucking skyscraper or something?”

He bit into it. Fucking delicious. “Maybe.”

Truth was, he just didn’t want to stop eating them because you made them.

Yoongi wanted to pretend you made them just for him.

"What's this?"

"Pork and leek bao. Tell me what you think."

Yoongi took a small bite, chewing thoughtfully. "Light flavor, but nice."

"Too greasy?" you pried.

"Mm, little bit."

You sighed. "Hm, okay, won't sell them then. I'll have to eat them myself."

Yoongi looked at the huge tray of freshly streamed buns.

"I can help."

"Wait for them to cool and then you can pack however much you want," you said absentmindedly, off to wash the pots. "You have a steamer at home?"

"Mhm."

He looked good today too, still in his black leather jacket and black jeans, different loose gray shirt. Almost cute with the way he was chomping on the steamed bun, his cheeks filling and becoming round.

Too bad he couldn't be punctual to save his life, you thought, violently scrubbing the metal clean.

Yoongi sat in his studio, holding one of the pork and leek bao you had given him. He stored them in his freezer and streamed them periodically when he was at his desk. Easy, quick meal that had very little mess.

He chewed on it.

He should have told you to sell them.

But he also liked having his freezer full of bao that you had made. You probably would have given him some of he asked, but Yoongi felt bad asking because he knew how hard you worked. They should be for customers, not him.

He sat back in his chair, taking bites slowly, savoring them. Salty pork with the mild flavor of fresh leek, a little black bean to add a hint of nuttiness, grounding the greasy nature of the meat. Made by your own two hands, your hard work, day in and day out, trying to make up for the absence of your father.

He really should stop being late.

Then again.

Yoongi was always late because he was always working on music and when he wasn't working on music, he was oversleeping his work alarms.

It wasn't until you had gone to university that he realized how much he missed you and your presence at the bao shop. You were smart. Had a Biochemistry degree and everything. Yoongi couldn't make heads or tails of science, so that alone was impressive to him. But you hadn't been able to get a job in your field because your father’s back pain got worse and worse, until he had to get surgery. Now it meant you did everything and, while it pained him to watch you working so hard, secretly he was a little glad that he could see you every day.

He felt ashamed for thinking that way, because your father had surgery for a misaligned disc and Yoongi didn't wish that on anyone.

His eyes shifted to his computer.

He hasn't dropped his mixtape for a lot of reasons. One, what if no one liked it? All of his hard work, ignored? Or, what if everyone liked it? What if he made it big?

Could he handle that?

He didn't know. He wasn't very good with people.

Who was he? A nobody. Yoongi doubted your parents would be happy if the fucking delivery boy wanted to marry you. They were nice people, but of course they wanted better for you. That's why they worked so hard to put you through school to the point of your father's back literally breaking.

Maybe it would be better if you dated Taehyung. It seemed like he made a reasonable amount of money considering his clothes. He was handsome too. Yoongi saw Taehyung's face at the local supermarket sometimes. His own face would never be in supermarkets. No one would pick up a coffee with his face on it over Taehyung's.

Yoongi ate the last bite of bao bitterly and returned to his music.

"You're even later than usual today!"

"I'm sorry. I'll grab the orders right away."

"And why are you wearing this stupid hat? It's unprofessional–"

You attempted to grab the black baseball cap off of Yoongi's head, but he dodged you. He seemed more aloof than usual today, but you barely noticed in your irritation as you clicked your tongue and grabbed his leather jacket, yanking him towards you and pulling the cap off.

Three things happened at once.

Yoongi's body collided into yours.

He painfully gasped into your neck, turning your skin burning hot with his breath.

And third, your eyes widened as you realized Yoongi had a black eye.

You barely even noticed the first two things because you were staring at the fair skin around his right eye tinged with rings of purple-red. You released him and he backed up away from you, wincing.

"What happened?" you asked in a stunned voice.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes and tried to grab his hat, but you moved it behind your back, eyes glued to his bruise.

"Yoongi, tell me what happened."

You saw him pause. If you weren't so fixated on the actual black eye, you would have noticed his expression change from annoyance, to bitterness, to realization. Your tone was not angry. You were genuinely worried, to the point you felt strangely emotional, like you were going to cry.

"It's nothing," Yoongi mumbled. "I'm fine. It only looks bad."

Your eyes locked with his. Those dark orbs did not want to say anything. They wanted you to treat it like no big deal, or yell at him some more for being late, anything but address his black eye.

"Please tell me what happened," you said quietly.

Yoongi sighed, rubbing the back of his head. Usually his black hair was styled, but it was messy and flat from being under the cap.

"I did something stupid," he finally replied. "I trusted people. And I got scammed."

You waited. Yoongi shuffled his feet and continued.

"I produce and make music. I mixed a guy's entire album and when I asked for payment, they told me I was getting paid with exposure," he spat, as if the word itself was disgusting. "I was already in a shitty mood. So I punched him."

"You did what?"

"I punched him," Yoongi repeated coolly. He shrugged. "There were three other guys so I punched them too."

"Y... Yoongi!"

"What?" he snapped. "They fucking deserved it."

"You can't go around punching people!"

"Yeah." He pointed to his black eye. "Sometimes they punch back."

You stared at him before you held out his cap. He took it from you and crammed it back on his head.

"Yoongi, go home."

He paused. Then he chuckled, straightening. "What are you taking about?" He changed his tone, making to more lighthearted and teasing. He gestured behind you, to the brown paper bags waiting. "I have deliveries to make."

"I'll do them."

You stood in front of the bags, blocking him. Yoongi frowned.

"You have food to make."

"Yoongi," you said softly. "Go home and recover. You probably didn't get much sleep last night. I can see your dark circles."

He chuckled, the noise dying in his throat as he looked at your serious expression.

"I always have dark circles."

"I don't want you to get in an accident because of sleep deprivation."

"I won't get into an accident," Yoongi said impatiently. He tried to move around you, but you and your flour-covered apron blocked him.

"I don't want you to get hurt."

The way you said it stopped him. You thought of your father, laying in the hospital, doctors and nurses trying to make sure he was okay after the surgery. Yoongi could see it in your eyes. He sighed.

"Look, it's just a couple bruises. I did this to myself," he mumbled. His eyes shifted from side to side before they came back to you. "I need to make money. I'm short on rent because of this."

"Then I'll pay you," you insisted. "You need to rest."

You suddenly realized Yoongi was very close to you now, looking down at you from under his black baseball cap. His chest was almost touching your chest. The scent of leather and pine cologne filled your nose, vastly different from your dusty flour-covered self. His cat-like eyes were on you, expression unreadable.

"This is my rest," Yoongi said quietly. "Helping you deliver orders is the least stressful part of my day."

For a long moment, you didn't move. You weren't sure if it was because you were still worried or because Yoongi was so close and it felt weird all of a sudden, as if you recalled the way his body hit yours earlier and the way his breath tickled your skin.

You moved away and Yoongi collected the bags, careful not to drop them. You always ordered them so they were from first to last delivery, maximizing efficiency and order number. He made his way to the back door, using his back to open it.

You spoke again, voice nearly cracking.

"Please don't get hurt."

Yoongi looked up from under his black cap, expressionless. You expected him to give you a snarky remark as usual.

"I won't."

He headed out.

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #min yoongi x you #yoongi scenarios

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marjansmarwani · 3 years

Text

Becoming a Home

2.2k || ao3

Carlos Reyes had always wanted his house to be a home. Moving out and buying a house of his own showed him that was more difficult than he had thought and in time he came to accept that maybe it just wasn’t in the cards for him. Until a certain Firefighter barreled his way into his life, that is. Now he thinks they might just be on their way there.

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Day 1 of @911lonestarweek: “You’re the only one for me” + Romance

This was inspired by a fic that @justaswampdemon has been working on because I love the idea but while her’s is funny (and wonderful, you’ll all need to read it while it’s done) I wanted to do something a little more introspective.

Beta’d by @silvarafael

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Carlos Reyes had grown up in a home, not a house.

His mother had always been purposeful to make it so. Their home was always filled to the brim with family, laughter, food, and love. Carlos could scarcely remember a day in which their home had ever been silent. He knew for a fact that it had never felt cold, that not once had it ever been impersonal. It had always been a comfort; perpetually warm and welcoming.

When he had moved out, had settled down in a house of his own; he had strived to do the same. But despite his best efforts, it turned out to be more difficult than he had imagined. He opened his doors and his heart and waited, hoping to replicate that same feeling; that same warmth. Friends and dates and boyfriends filtered through, coming and going from time to time without ever leaving any mark behind.

Even Michelle - his most frequent visitor - floated in and out, never really seeming to settle. She was comfortable there, sure; but Michelle Blake was comfortable everywhere she went. Carlos didn’t take it personally. He knew more than most how much she had going on and where her mind was when it was somewhere else. He told himself all these fleeting interactions were fine, that he preferred it that way; that he appreciated the silence and solitude.

He almost believed it too.

He settled into a rhythm, learned to love the peace and quiet. It gave him time to focus on him; to explore the things that he loved. He read more books, he blasted his music, he tried new recipes. He even enjoyed it; this time to himself. But the desire for more, for that familiar warmth of a home was always there, a thought always relegated to the back of his mind. But what he had was fine, it would do for now.

Enter TK Strand, who blew up Carlos’s entire existence without even trying.

At first, it’s no different from the others: he comes and goes; quick hookups and frantic kisses before he’s back out the door and Carlos is left trying to catch his breath. Then Carlos tries to do too much too soon and even those hookups are over, for a while.

Eventually, they find their way back to each other and though it is tentative and careful, it’s something, Carlos is sure of it. The hookups become less frantic, the time spent lingering increases. TK is there more and more often and maybe, just maybe, it feels right.

Then the universe interrupts with a bang - literally.

The day TK is shot Carlos came home from the hospital to his empty condo and does not think he has ever hated the silence more. He and TK may not have a label but they are something and now TK is hurt and Carlos doesn’t know what to do with himself, with all this pain in his heart.

He leaned against the door, trying not to remember how they had woken up together just this morning - an occurrence that was becoming more and more frequent. It was becoming common enough that Carlos was almost optimistic enough to hope that it would be a sign of things to come.

But that couldn’t happen if TK was dead.

He banished that thought from his head as he pushed himself off the door and strode purposefully towards the kitchen. No, he wouldn’t even let himself think it; he wouldn’t even put that idea out into the universe. What he needed was a distraction, something to focus on that wasn’t the thought of TK in a coma, that wasn’t the memory of hearing the gunshot and just knowing that something was wrong.

Dwelling on it wouldn’t do him any good, he knew that. He needed a distraction and so he gravitated to the kitchen, as he so often did. He would make bread, he decided: something labor-intensive and precise. Besides, the idea of kneading something was appealing right now.

He set about pulling out the ingredients, steadying his breathing as he went. He reminded himself that he had every reason to be optimistic, that there was no real reason to expect the worst. TK had received treatment immediately, had been rushed to the hospital within minutes. He had everything going for him; as much as someone who had been shot could, at least. It worked, if even only a little.

Then he turned to the sink to get the water he would need for the dough, and the sight of two coffee mugs - sitting innocently side by side, waiting to be washed - almost toppled him.

He remembered now the quick moment where he had slid them into the sink before he and TK had walked out the door. He could see TK’s grin as he sipped from his mug clear as day, raising his eyebrows suggestively as Carlos had lamented that if they had gotten moving sooner they could have had time for breakfast too. He had fired back some quip about them choosing exercise over food that had caused Carlos to laugh, nearly choking on his coffee in the process.

The image in his head of that moment was filled with a warmth he had felt more and more. It was the feeling he had been seeking all along, the sensation he had always wanted to feel from his home. He had been starting to feel the beginnings of it with TK. He didn’t want to lose that; he didn’t want to lose him. He was so close to having the home that he wanted, the life that he had pictured for himself was in reach.

But it had become increasingly more apparent to Carlos that a certain firefighter was an integral part of the equation. He had been trying for years only to find that there had been a missing piece all along.

Carlos didn’t know what it was: his laughter, his smile, his voice or maybe a little bit of everything. What was certain was that TK made his house feel like home. He had brought mess and noise into his otherwise clean and orderly life and Carlos knew without a doubt that it was exactly what he had needed. He didn’t want to lose that, he didn’t think he could handle it. After so long he had finally found exactly what he had been looking for. He just needed someone or something in the universe to listen, to take pity. He just needed TK to be okay.

Everything after that would be fine, Carlos was sure of it.

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Someone in the universe must have been listening because TK is okay, in the end. And after a bit of confusion, so are they.

More than okay actually, in Carlos’s opinion. They wanted to start fresh but having already laid all of the foundations, it was no time at all before they fell into comfortable patterns. That warmth Carlos had noticed and longed for returned and it filled his home with every laugh and smile the other man shared.

TK became more of a fixture at the condo; stuck waiting outside for Carlos to get home enough that Carlos gave him a key. He jokes it’s so that the neighbors won’t call the cops about a suspicious man loitering, but really it’s an offering; a stepping stone. A gesture to say that he hopes that maybe this could be TK’s home too, someday.

Slowly his things started joining Carlos’s: a change of clothes in the drawer, his running shoes by the door. A cheesy figurine TK had brought for Carlos as a joke, a vase they had bought at the farmer’s market because TK thought it would look nice in the entryway. The charger for his AirPods in the kitchen and the change from his pocket on the nightstand. Small and inconsequential bits of his life maybe, but tangible proof that TK had been here and that he planned to come back.

Soon it is not just TK’s things filling the space but his friends as well. Carlos had offered to host them all once the pandemic hit as a way to maintain some sense of normalcy. He hadn’t been sure what to expect with inviting an entire fire station into his condo (though he did have a private laugh at the look of horror he could picture from his dad, the Texas Ranger, at the very thought) but the sound of laughter and casual banter-filled his kitchen and his heart in a way he had almost forgotten.

It wasn’t long before his friends became their friends and that warmth he had been chasing for so long lingered more and more. He felt it in the sound of laughter and light conversation, he felt the heat of it lingering as he and TK lay in each other’s arms on the couch, stealing a moment of solitude before they cleaned up from the evening's festivities.

It’s on one such night, while they were cleaning up, that Carlos noticed TK was quieter than usual. They worked in companionable silence but Carlos stole glances at the other man as he put away the clean dishes, trying to decipher the storm in his head. Minutes passed and Carlos was about to ask what was on his mind when TK spoke.

“Your house must have been so quiet, before.”

Carlos looked up from the sink with a start to see TK surveying the space thoughtfully. “I’m definitely sure there were no rowdy firefighters eating all your food.”

“You don’t know that,” Carlos countered, “maybe I had some secret firefighter friends before you came to town.”

“I don’t think so, babe,” TK retorted with a raised eyebrow, “firefighters are awful gossips, I would have heard”

“It has been a change,” Carlos agreed, thinking about the smile that had come across his face at the sound of laughter drifting through his living room and the sight of their friends smiling as he sat with his arms around TK on the couch just a few hours ago. It was so different from his life before, but in the best possible way.

“You sure you wouldn’t rather be with someone who didn’t bring this level of chaos to your life?” TK asked and though his tone was kept purposefully light Carlos could hear the doubt lurking directly behind the words.

“No,” Carlos said decisively, shutting off the water and turning to face TK, stepping forward and placing his hands on the other man’s hips, and meeting his eyes. They were so full of doubt that it caused a physical ache to shoot through Carlos’s core. He held them though as he said his next words very clearly, need to make sure TK understood that there was no doubt in his mind: “You’re the only one for me. Friends and all, no one else even comes close. You are it for me, Tyler Kennedy.”

There is silence in the wake of his words, but Carlos knows in his heart it is a different quiet than he had been so accustomed to. It wasn’t cold or impersonal, it didn’t echo with solitude and loneliness. It was a comfortable silence of two people coexisting; using the silence to hear each other, to grow. It was just another piece of the home he had been trying to build.

“I never liked the quiet,” he admitted, hands still on TK’s waist. “Growing up, our house was never quiet.”

“Mine always was,” TK confessed, “there was never anybody around to make it not be quiet. I hated it.”

His voice was soft as he admitted that and Carlos tightened his grip on his waist, pulling him closer.

“I never wanted my home to feel like that,” he told TK honestly. “All I have ever wanted is for my home to be full of warmth and laughter and love. I never had those until you came along. You’ve made my house into a home, Ty. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to properly thank you for that.”

When TK looked up to meet his eyes Carlos was startled to see that they were full of tears. He reached up a hand to cup Carlos’s face as he spoke: “You are home to me, Carlos. You have been for a while. If anything, I should be thanking you. What we have together? It’s more than I could have ever dreamed of. To know that you are happy is all I could ever ask for.”

Carlos leaned into TK’s touch, savoring the warmth and familiarity of it. He thought about the words TK had just shared and the key that he offered not so long ago. He saw a life for them together; filled with laughter and love and friends and family. He had been too afraid to ask, still wary from the early days when pushing had almost been their end, determined to not seek too much too soon and risk it all. But the way TK was holding his gaze left few questions in Carlos’s mind. All he would have to do is ask, and it would be done. He leaned in closer, capturing TK’s mouth in a kiss that he hoped conveyed the words he couldn’t say just yet, to tell him what he now knew.

Because this moment had made him sure: this was their home now and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

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wolfmadefromash · 3 years

Text

Merry Christmas Derek Hale

Derek didn’t do Christmas, not since the fire and definitely not since loosing Laura. Even with a new pack, he had no desire to be involved with Christmas.

“Melissa invited everyone over.” Isaac sat across from him at the table a week before Christmas. “Erica and Boyd are going to stuff with their family in the morning, then we’re all going to the McCalls after, around 3 I think.” Derek nodded, flipping a page in the book he had open in front of him. “You know she said everyone, right? That means you too.”

Derek glanced up at Isaac. “I don’t celebrate Christmas. But tell her thank you for the offer, I appreciate it.”

Isaac opened him mouth to push, but the look on Derek’s face had him closing it before he said anything.

The week passed with little excitement, when Derek woke up Christmas morning it felt like any other day. He checked his phone and saw the long responses in the pack group chat and the Christmas wishes. He sent a text, telling them all to enjoy their holiday and then started is day like he did any other; a run in the preserve.

He felt a tightness in his chest, all over really as if his skin was too small for his body. He gave in the the urge and let the shift take over, soon he was running through the woods on all fours with a sleek black coat. He was fine for hours, running every path and trail he could find, chasing deer and rabbits. It was well into the afternoon before he was making his way back home. He’d lost his clothes when shifting, and rather searching the forest for them Derek stayed shifted in his wolf form.

It was dark by the time he made it home, having gone deeper into the preserve than he thought. But, there was plenty of food around for him to hunt so he didn’t mind the day he had. The black wolf trotted into the industrial style apartment building and up the flights of stairs to his loft at the top floor.

The door was pulled open, a strong scent of vanilla spice and cinnamon lingers in the doorway. Derek stalked in, blue eyes scanning the open living area. With his back to the door, Stiles stood leaning at the counter in the kitchen. The wolf prowled closer, stubtly scenting the air; the boy scent far stronger in this form, it filled his lungs and ease the aching in his chest as if often did.

Derek got right behind Stiles and growled, startling the boy enough to have him leaping up onto the counter.

“Holy shit! Dude, don’t do that!” Derek snorted, wagging his tail a few times before turning from him. “You’re real fucking proud of yourself huh?” Stiles called as he crossed the open space to his walk-in closet.

Derek stepped out a minute later on two legs, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, with a black cotton shirt in his hand. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at Scott’s?”

Stiles’ eyes lingered on Derek’s bare chest, the wolf tried not to feel smug or puff out his chest. “Well,” Stiles started, clearing his throat. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Derek rolled his eyes, finally pulling his shirt on. “I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest. “Bullshit.” Derek raised an eyebrow. “It’s Christmas Derek, and you don’t have to be alone.”

Derek looked at Stiles for a moment before swallowing and turning away. “Go be with your family, friends. I’m fine.”

Stiles came up behind Derek, grabbing him by the shoulder and turning him around. “I know it’s hard, that you miss them all. Holidays still aren’t the same without my mom; it always feels like something is missing. I-I know it’s not the same exactly, I just lost one person and you...”

“Loss is loss, Stiles. Mine is no worse than yours.”

“It was your whole family.” Stiles whispered, his head dropping.

“And it was your mother.”

Stiles looked up and met Derek’s stare. “We want you around, okay. Please? It doesn’t feel right without you there.”

Derek sighed. “I’m not good with...any of that.”

“Social gatherings?”

“Families. Holidays. I haven’t really celebrated anything since the fire. It was just too hard. Laura tried but it wasn’t the same. It’s...” Derek took a step back, leaning against the counter. “I see everyone happy, smiling, hugging. I think...that what I miss the most.”

“What, hugging?” Stiles asked softly.

Derek nodded, looking away. “Wolves connect and bond through touch. I haven’t felt connected, truly connected, to anyone since Laura. Holidays for us were always about reconnecting with family, reestablishing bonds with the ones who didn’t live near to us, who we hardly saw.” Stiles stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck. The wolf tense under the touch. “What are you doing?”

“Connecting.” Stiles tightened his hold on Derek, turning his face into his neck.

Derek stood frozen, his heartbeat hammering against his chest. He turned his head slightly, breathing in Stiles’ warm vanilla slice scent. His eyes fluttered closed, his body sagging as he brought his arms around Stiles waist; he turned his head to pressing his face into Stiles’ neck and breathing in deeply, a rumble vibrating through he chest.

Stiles huffed a laugh, stretching at the back of Derek’s neck. “What do I smell like?”

Derek, feeling slightly drunk off Stiles’ scent so close and consentrated. The wolf hummed, dragging his nose up his neck. “Vanilla spice. And cinnamon. Pine and fresh snow.”

“I’m a candle.”

Derek laughed, pulling away, his hand sliding from his back to his waist. “Better then any candle I’ve found.”

Stiles’ hands still rested on the back of Derek’s neck. “Yeah?” Derek nodded. “I feel like...like I want to kiss you.”

“You do.” Derek’s says with a smirk.

Stiles’ cheeks turn red, blush moving up to his ears. “I might have wanted to kiss you for awhile.”

Derek pulls Stiles closer, brushing their noses together. “Is that so?” Stiles swallows, his throat click. Derek leans forward, brushing their lips together in a soft, short kiss.

Stiles was smiling dumbly with his eyes closed when Derek pulled back. “Hmm, that was nice.”

Derek nodded in agreement bringing his mouth to Stiles’ once more. Stiles let out a soft moan, Derek deepening the kiss this time. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, Stiles opened his mouth allowing Derek to lick inside. The wolf growled, his fingers curling around Stiles’ waist. The boy dragged his fingers up Derek’s neck, through his soft raven hair.

Stiles pulled away, breathless. “That...that was much, much better.”

Derek moved to Stiles’ neck, marking his pale skin with human teeth. His lips moved up his neck, biting at his ear. “I’m glad you stopped by.” He whisper in his ear.

Stiles tilted his head to the side, tugging gently at Derek’s hair. “Mmm, me too.”

“If you still want to go to Scott’s...” Derek trailed off, tugging at Stiles’ shirt.

Stiles heart felt like it was going to punch it’s way through his chest. “No. Nope. Definitely NOT thinking about going back over to Scott’s.”

Derek growled. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Stiles’ laugh echoed through the loft as Derek hoisted him up over his shoulder, bringing him over and laying him gently on the bed. Stiles scramble to pull off his shirt, Derek doing the same before climbing on top of Stiles and reclaiming his lips once again.

It took little time before they both had their clothes thrown around the bed, the loft filling with the scent of the two of them mingled together, the sound of them bouncing off the walls. Derek had never been so happy to have a building entirely to himself before, he would have hated to have to keep Stiles’ cries and prayers silent; it was a sound he wanted to be able to hear for the rest of his life. It didn’t hurt his pride that he was the one to elisit sure filthy sounds from him either.

Hours later, they finally collapsed in a tangle mess of limbs and sheets, Stiles curled against Derek’s chest. Waking up the day after Christmas, the scent of Stiles and him together still filling the air, the boy still draped over his chest, made Derek’s heart swell.

Stiles stirred, groaning as he turning his face into Derek’s bare chest. Derek’s arm wrapped around his shoulder, burying his nose in his hair and inhaling.

“I thought I’d had the greatest dream ever. Thank god it wasn’t just a dream.” Stiles mumble, lips moving against Derek’s warm skin.

Derek’s laugh vibrated through them both. “I hope the real thing is better then any dream you could have had.”

Stiles turned his face to look up at Derek. “I have a good imagination Derek, but even I wouldn’t have come up with that think you did with your fingers and you tongue with your dick was-”

“I was there.” Derek smiled smuggly. “I remember it very well.”

“Mmm. I would just like to say, for the record, I had no intention of coming here for sex. I genuinely wanted you to be apart of my Christmas. With that said, I would not hate it if sex became a regular thing that we did. And the kissing, that was good too. And the cuddling. Really the whole thing. It was all just...fuck.” Stiles rolled his hips, rubbing against Derek’s leg.

Derek’s eyes flashed. “Stiles.” He growled.

“Good morning!” The door slammed open with a loud bang. “Shit! Sorry Derek! Just wanted to come by with breakfast and see if you heard from Stiles. He bailed last night and-” Isaac froze in the center of the loft, his eyes blown wide when they landed in Derek and Stiles tangled together in bed. “Oh my god!” The beta quickly turned away. “Fuck, shit. Sorry! I’m so sorry! I, uh, yeah well I guess you heard from Stiles. So good. That’s good. I’ll um. I’ll go.” Isaac bolted from the loft, yanking the door closed behind him.

Stiles flipped onto his back and laughed. “Oh, shit. Well, talk about a mood killer.”

Derek leaned over nipping at Stiles’ shoulder. “There’s always later. I’m getting hungry anyway.” Derek climbed over Stiles and off the bed, bending down and grabbing his discarded sweatpants from the floor.

“So there’s going to be a later?” Stiles asked, sitting up.

Derek looked at him over his shoulder. “I was hoping, yeah. A lot of laters actually.”

Stiles grinned. “Like, a regular thing. This, us? Just sex or...”

“Sex. Kissing. Dinners. Hand-holding.”

“So,” Stiles sliding out of bed, ignoring his jeans in a pile on the floor. “Like a relationship?” He asked, coming to stand in front of Derek.

“Yes.” He said tightly, trying to maintain control. “Can you please put something on? If you don’t, we may starve.”

Stiles grinned. “I like this effect I have on you. Makes me feel like I have a shred of power.”

“Stiles.” Derek’s voice was rough and gravely.

“Spare sweats in the closet, yeah?” Stiles turned away from the wolf.

Derek turn to the sink in the kitchen, splashing cold water on his face.

The next year on Christmas , Derek walked into the McCalls hand-in-hand with Stiles. The whole pack was there again, and it didn’t make Derek feel out of place. He didn’t feel the emptiness in his chest he often did around the holidays. Stiles stayed by his side, his arm around his waist, a hand on his knee, always keeping some kind of contact with him.

Derek Hale didn’t do Christmas. But he would if it meant he could do it with Stiles. It didn’t hurt that Stiles gave him a little insentive.

Stiles smiled at Derek, letting the loft door slide closed behind him. “You did it. You make it through Christmas.”

“I did.”

“And,” Stiles pulled at Derek’s pants, popping the button and pulling the zipper down. “As promised for sure outstanding behavior.” He dropped to his knees, tugging down Derek’s pants. “Merry Christmas Derek Hale.” Stiles grinned.

Yeah. Derek could definitely learn to do Christmas again.

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