#it’s also very frustrating to feel something so deeply and know words will only minimize a feeling or idea or concept
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I Want You to Stay (05) | JJK
Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader
Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut
Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)
Chapter Word count: 14.8k
Series Masterlist
Status: Ongoing
Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.
Playlist 🎶: on the way home
A/N: I deeply appreciate all the love and messages (and anticipation for uh, stuff) but again, it's a slow burn! Thank you so much! 🥰
And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰
PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!
Jungkook sits cross-legged on the couch in his office, his iPad in hand as he goes through the Board report for the nth time these past five days.
Manager Lee and Chin-sun have put together the logistics, construction, and design departments’ reports with the VP’s and Jungkook is supposed to sign these off for submission to the CEO today, who then approves it for submission to the Board members. They have until Friday to review it in time for the meeting happening that same day.
This consolidated report was finalized last Wednesday and Jungkook has been reviewing it everyday since then, including his presentation, making minimal comments and then taking notes on things he’s unfamiliar with. Granted, he’s reporting about the quarter when he’s only been Vice President for a month, which makes you incredibly instrumental in his preparations. As the executive assistant, you have the information that Jungkook needs from Hoseok’s time, and so you’ve also been spending everyday since Wednesday answering all of Jungkook’s questions.
You don’t mind, really, as they’re details you know by heart. It also allows you to show him how involved and meticulous you were under Hoseok’s leadership, and Jungkook’s hums and mumbles of appreciation have helped you gain back the confidence that you lost.
Even if your self-esteem decreased this past month because of the very person sitting in front of you, the fact that Jungkook’s been showing - in his own ways - his trust in you is enough to lift your spirits. He did admit last week that he needs you - something you hadn’t expected him to say - and you could tell it took so much from him to be able to verbalize it. But you suppose you needed that honesty, too; you needed to know that after all that frustration and anger during the first few weeks, there was that realization on his end that you have his back, and you’re just as capable as what everyone has been saying you are.
“What information do you need from me, Mr. Jeon?” You finally ask.
It’s been a good five minutes since Jungkook had asked for you and you’ve just been standing in front of him while he scrolls through the screen, perhaps giving another final look before he finally sends the document to his father.
“Nothing,” he sighs, rolling his head back and closing his eyes. “I just… I just need someone to tell me to stop reviewing this report. I need this out of my sight but I can’t stop checking to make sure everything is okay.”
You look at him intently while he speaks. The tension in his entire face and body is visible, you can even feel it in the room. You feel for him, as he tries to hide the anxiety and desperation. You can tell that he just wants to do well so badly. With the amount of time he’s been spending just going through this, his perfectionist tendency surfaces, and you’re at least thankful that it hasn’t turned him back into an asshole. At least not yet.
“You need to stop reviewing the report, Mr. Jeon, and let it go,” you say as instructed but with sincerity in your words. “You’ve been on this for days. Manager Lee and Chin-sun have reviewed it, and so have I. CEO Jeon could still suggest changes and we won’t know them until he’s reviewed it, but we at least have the details ironed out. If I may suggest, you can send the file to him in the next hour so you can now focus on practicing for your presentation. That may be a better use of your time.”
Jungkook opens his eyes and turns to you. There’s assurance in your words and your voice and like what he told himself he’d do, he’ll trust you and the team. He’s seen how hard everyone has been working for this - Manager Lee and Chin-sun have done so well in consolidating and cross-checking everything; Do-hyun’s presentation is simple yet effective, and Yohan, who’s back from the hospital, has been adding in all the needed details. And there’s you, making sure that everything and everyone is on track, even as you prepare for Jungkook’s upcoming events.
“Okay, then,” he exhales deeply. “I’ll send it in the next half hour.”
Knowing he has a meeting set at 2PM, you ask him if you should order him lunch.
“Yes please,” he answers, saying he wants some braised beef from the restaurant on the next block. “Order for yourself as well, and the rest of the team. You can all get anything you want.”
The silence prompts Jungkook to look at you, and he’s met with a questioning gaze.
“Is there a problem?” He asks.
“N—no,” you answer. “I’d like to confirm again that I’ll be ordering lunch for you and all five of us.”
“Yes, Ms. Cho. That’s what I said.”
You remain unmoving as you wait for him to correct himself. This is the first time that Jungkook has offered to treat the team to a meal. Not that you’ve been waiting for it, but Hoseok took you all out to dinner on his first day as a welcome and a thanks in advance, and once you picked up that Jungkook wasn’t the type to engage with his staff much, you just didn’t expect anything. So takeaway lunch from a nice restaurant is definitely surprising.
“Okay, sir,” you say. “I will do that. I’m sure the team will appreciate it.”
Jungkook merely hums, his eyes focused on the screen now as you bow and head out.
You go meet the team and as you expected, everyone looks at you in shock.
“Did the real Mr. Jeon get abducted?” Do-hyun asks. “Because treating us is something he wouldn’t do.”
“Yah! It may be a month late but let’s just be thankful, okay?” You frown at her. “He can see that everyone’s been working hard and I’m sure he appreciates that, and he may not be able to say it but he can at least show us.”
“While he’s at it, he can maybe at least say thank you or you know, smile every once in a while,” Chin-sun sighs.
“We’ll get there. He knows he needs to do better and he will, I’ll make sure of that,” you assure them, thinking about the conversation from last week.
Jungkook wants you to help him and for his sake and everyone else’s, you’ll make sure that you do.
“Well, is he better to you?” Do-hyun asks, her face in a pout because she’s seen you skip meals several times and even cry, and she’d wanted so many times to just hug you, but she knows it’s not something you openly receive.
“Yes,” you say, knowing it will drive your point. “I’d like to think that the worst is over and I can just focus on doing better and helping him. It would be great if the rest of us could do the same.”
“She’s right,” Manager Lee chimes in. “We grow when we adapt, and much more when we’re able to move on and learn from our experiences. It hasn’t been the best month but it’s also just been a month. So let’s be grateful for the meal and just continue with the good work we’ve been doing, okay?”
You give them the warmest smile you can muster, hoping this would be enough.
It seems to be, as they all excitedly give their orders, which you and Yohan pick up from the restaurant. You return and after giving Jungkook his food, you head to the other room to eat as well.
The team enjoys the meal, with Do-hyun dramatically stating that it’s the best beef brisket she’s ever had. And you agree; there’s a reason why Jungkook gets this every week.
Jungkook can hear laughter and satisfied hums from the support team office, with Do-hyun, he supposes, claiming that it feels like Christmas. Yohan says it’s a much-needed post-recovery treat, and even Manager Lee - who’s often serious - cracks a few jokes. Jungkook can pick out your sound, too, noting the joy that emanates from it. He allows himself a small smile, knowing that given how he’s been to everyone this past month, he at least could give his team this highlight of their day.
He stands by the door, initially going unnoticed, until Chin-sun catches sight of him and alerts everyone that he’s there. The room goes silent, and Jungkook looks on as his staff quietly munch their food and bow to him in greeting. The teasing and laughter have gone; worried eyes are what he sees instead.
Your initial surprise at seeing him melts away. He rarely drops by for anything, even for a greeting or to just check up on the team, unlike Hoseok who liked to come here often to de-stress after long meetings. But you sense Jungkook’s awkwardness at the silence, with his hands in his pockets and his blank gaze, so you smile at him and hope that eases the tension a bit.
“Lunch was great, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “Thank you.”
“It was,” Manager Lee pipes in. “The roast pork was so delicious. The potato salad was very good, too.”
You look at the others and encourage them to say something as well, and they hum in agreement and say their thanks.
“The beef brisket was heavenly,” Do-hyun raves. “Thank you! I hope it’s not the last time.”
She awkwardly chuckles, realizing that her boss isn’t one she should be joking with, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to take offense, as he purses his lips - perhaps to hide a smile, revealing a tiny dimple that catches you off guard.
“It won’t be. And uh, it was a month late, so I’m glad you all enjoyed it,” he replies, a tinge of disappointment now painting his face.
There’s another moment of silence and you observe him, hands still in his pockets, looking around awkwardly, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.
“It’s greatly appreciated, sir,” you assure him once more. “We hope you had a good lunch as well.”
“I’m just about to have it, actually,” he says. “I sent the report to the CEO and he must’ve been waiting for it because he read it right away and called to give feedback.”
“Oh? How did CEO Jeon find it?” Manager Lee asks.
“He said it was good. There are just minor things he asked me to change but I can do them on my own,” Jungkook answers. “I appreciate everyone’s hard work. Now, we can focus on our upcoming events and the Arts Center.”
The team immediately starts packing and swallowing their food, and Jungkook has to stop them.
“Not right now,” he clarifies. “Continue with your meal. And don’t stay too late. We’ve got another busy week ahead.”
“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” everyone says in unison.
Jungkook nods and starts walking away, leaving all five of you with confused looks, as Jungkook has never spoken to the team in such a calm and friendly manner. It was always firm and professional, low and stoic.
You scurry out the room and follow him. Jungkook gives you a questioning look when you enter his office shortly after he does, and you pick up his untouched lunch from the table and inform him that you’ll heat it up, knowing he doesn’t like to eat his food cold.
You go back to the pantry then return to Jungkook’s room, his beef brisket dish now properly placed in a bowl. He gives you a nod, his form of acknowledgment and thanks, you suppose, and you ask the question you’ve had since his earlier stop at the team’s office.
“Are the edits really just minor?” You wonder, knowing that CEO Jeon is meticulous and quite particular with these board reports.
Jungkook takes a moment to respond. He should know that you’ve done this a few times and are probably used to how his father is already, which means you’d see right through him as well.
“Well, they’re not major,” Jungkook says. “I mean, they’re not trivial corrections. The details are all good but I need to change some terminologies and framing and some construction of the sections based on the Board’s current concerns, especially about the Arts Center. They’re not that substantial but it’ll still take me an hour or so.”
“Why did you tell the team that they were minor, then?”
“So they won’t offer to help.”
“But they would. I would,” you tell him. “It’s our job.”
“I was going to ask, but it’s your break time. Everyone was enjoying their meals and each other. First time I’ve seen that, actually. I know it doesn’t happen when I’m around.”
“It’s just that you’re not—”
“Hoseok,” he finishes for you.
“Not someone they’re comfortable being themselves around,” you correct him.
“Yes, not like Hoseok,” he pushes.
“You said it the first day, Mr. Jeon. You do things very differently from your cousin. Your personalities are very different, too. We had him for three years and for Yohan and Do-hyun, he was their first boss,” you explain. “They’re just not used to you yet.”
“What about you? Are you used to me by now?”
There’s sudden tension in the room as he looks at you with the desire for honesty, and it’s what you give.
“I’m not quite sure.”
Jungkook doesn’t really know what he expected, as the question just slipped past his mouth before he could pull it back, so he just nods and proceeds to take his late lunch, wanting to forget that he’d asked at all.
You take this as a signal to head out, which you do, before reminding him that he can ask you for help if he needs another pair of eyes before he submits his part again. Jungkook just nods once more, and it’s later in the day, after the third cup of coffee that you take to his room, that he says his father’s already approved the version he sent after you went through it upon his request. You know that’s just half of what he needs to do though, as he’ll still need to present it to the Board this coming Friday.
“You may go home, Ms. Cho,” he says after he signs some documents for you.
“How about you, Mr. Jeon?” You ask.
It’s been a long day, an extension of an even longer weekend because he’d been at a work event and then reviewed the report as well.
“I’ll probably stay back and go over the presentation. Maybe practice a little.”
You purse your lips, holding something back.
“Should I not?” He wonders.
“Just thinking that it might be better for you to take a proper rest tonight,” you advise.
“I’ll think about it. It’s gonna be a tough one on Friday and I want to be prepared.”
“I understand,” you smile. “I’ll go ahead, Mr. Jeon.”
Jungkook holds your gaze for a while before he nods and returns to his screen, going through the presentation slides and the notes he scribbled on his iPad. But try as he might, the graphs and the words just go over his head.
He does need to rest, he thinks. He hasn’t really taken a break all weekend. His hookup from last night was the only relief he got, but that was to expend all the negative energy from the anxiety and stress, and he realizes that he probably doesn’t know what proper rest is, like what you suggested he have. He wonders if you’ve ever had one, or if it’s something you stopped having ever since you started working for him.
Taking your advice, he heads out. It’s only been 30 minutes and he assumes you’re already on the bus and on the way home. He sits in the passenger seat, letting Mr. Ri’s choice of music fill the car as Jungkook’s mind wanders to you - how you laughed at the team’s antics, how you got them to assure him, how you read him well, how you were patient and helpful, and how you seemed concerned about how tired he’s been.
He’ll chalk it up to you doing your job and helping him as he asked you to do; he always will. He can’t ever think that any of your actions mean more even if deep down, he wishes they do, only so he knows that you don’t hate him, that you’ve forgiven him for things he never apologized for, that you’ll stay for as long as possible. There’s something about your honesty and calm presence that stabilizes him, that makes him take a pause.
Jungkook’s worked hard on his career for the past decade and it’s all he focuses on; it’s all he thinks about. But when you’re there, he’s forced to stop and think about you. He’s noticed that just this past week - when you’re around, he listens; when you’re close to him, he breathes. Ironic, really, considering that every time you close the distance - when you fix his tie or look at his screen over his shoulder or help him retrieve portfolios - he remains still, his heart stopping and his throat drying up, afraid to take in your scent or to know just how fast his pulse would race or what words he’d say that he won’t be able to contain.
He’s afraid to know you, only because what he’ll learn might make him want you. And Jungkook knows that he can’t let himself feel that about you in any way.
He sighs as he looks out the window - cars in line to cross the intersection, people walking to their destination. He thinks he’s hallucinating as he sees your smile, but a bus blocks his view and Mr. Ri steps on the gas.
Outside, you smile to yourself as you wait in line. You were held up at the lobby because Bitna caught you in the elevator and didn’t want to let you go just yet, so you left the office just minutes ago and were waiting at the bus stop when a familiar car showed up and you saw Jungkook looking out the window. He opted to leave early, too; you can only hope he’ll take your advice and rest tonight.
But the thought that what you said prompted him to take a pause from work stirs something within. Maybe it’s because he’s finally listening to you, or that it seems like he trusts you now. Whatever it is, for as long as it makes your job bearable, you’re all for it.
It doesn’t take away from the moments you’ve shared where it seems like the world stops for a bit as you hold each other’s gazes for the shortest of seconds. There’s tension where there shouldn’t be, and there’s something different in his eyes when there used to be disdain, one which you can’t read nor identify. It leaves you still for the briefest of moments, unguarded and a little bare, as he seems to tell you something with just a look and you just don’t know what it is.
As you find a rare seat in the bus, you let the musings go. Jungkook is a man who holds in him a million thoughts a day and those moments with you seem to be his only reprieve; perhaps they’re also just instances of temporary lags or the rare silence and stoppage of everything. In some odd way, it allows you to see him as the human that he is - exhausted, unsure at times, but seemingly yearning for something.
There’s always an emotion or a thought or a word that he holds in, and you can only wish - as your relationship with him improves - that whatever it is he’s holding back, he’ll find a way to express it.
“Do you have any advice for the Board meeting?”
Jungkook slides the question in before Hoseok heads to the elevator and off to an event. They’ve just finished having a check-in with CEO Jeon, who wanted to make sure that the two of them are well-prepared for this Friday, given that presenting during these meetings and contributing to policy and strategy are crucial in their roles as President and Vice President. Jungkook won’t admit that it caused him a bit of anxiety, but he’ll surely take the chance to ask his cousin for tips on how to make sure that he doesn’t screw up.
“I do,” Hoseok answers as he holds off on pressing the button. “Ask your assistant. And then listen to what she says.”
Jungkook visibly sighs. “Hoseok, I mean it.”
“I mean it, too,” the older man replies. “If it’s anything about our strategic plan or policies, just take my lead. And it’s your very first so you’re expected to still be adjusting. If it’s about the presentation, let ___ brief you about it. She’s been with me every single time I had to present. When I was focused on what I had to say, she was focused on how the Board was reacting and how those translated to the questions they eventually asked. She’d know what you’ll need to emphasize on or who you need to be wary of.”
There’s an unsure look in Jungkook’s eyes, and Hoseok knows it isn’t about trusting you. It’s about him.
“You’re scared, aren’t you?” Hoseok asks. “What are you afraid of, Kook?”
“You know what they think of me,” Jungkook sighs. “I don’t want to screw up and give them more reasons to doubt me because they already do. And they’re definitely gonna ask about the Arts Center. What if they bring up my disappointing social skills? I don’t wanna end up feeling inadequate and embarrassing father.”
“Keep thinking that way and you will,” Hoseok huffs. “Look. Our family owns the company. You and I were trained to run it after my sister and your brother decided they didn’t want to. The Board knows this. They’ll either stay in our good graces or plot against us. Your father knows that, too, and that’s why he’s being hard on both of us because he knows what we’ll have to face. That also just means he’ll always be on your side. He’ll always be on ours. The Board could be intimidating but we still hold the power. They’ll impose or question or cast doubt because they want to feel that sense of control. It’ll only affect you if you let them.”
“Okay” is all that Jungkook manages to say, a tinge of resignation on his face as he takes in his cousin’s words.
“You’ve managed worse people than them,” Hoseok assured him. “Just focus, stand by your project, and engage them. Simple as that.”
“Yes, it’s very simple,” Jungkook chuckles with a shake of his head.
“Like I said, your assistant’s there for a reason, Kook. This is when I get to tell you that it’s her job. We would prepare together and debrief right after, and it always helped because she fills in gaps and informs me of things I missed. Trust me. Trust her.”
The thing is, Jungkook does; he doesn’t need to be reminded that he should trust you because he’s learned to do that, despite it seemingly impossible given that you both started off on the wrong foot. It’s the thought of spending more time with you, during a time when he’s still trying to get used to you and how you affect him, that makes him worried about this. But it’s not something he can talk about with Hoseok. It’s not something he can talk about with anyone.
“Fine,” Jungkook finally says. “I’ll talk to her.”
“Good. I’ll go now. Have dinner at home tomorrow, okay? And I’ll see you when I get back.”
Jungkook waves the older man goodbye and then returns to his office, where he finds you dropping some files off for signing.
“Payment requests for the event,” you explain, earning you a nod from him as he walks to his seat. “How did the meeting with your father go, Mr. Jeon?”
“As I expected,” he huffs. “A bit of encouragement, more of the pressure. He’d slide in reminders of what the Board thinks of me and how I should present myself.”
“Is the pressure helping?” You ask.
“A little,” he sighs, sinking into his chair and exhaling deeply. He rolls his head back and closes his eyes, allowing himself a few seconds of peace. “But I still need help. Hoseok said I can get it from you.”
“You know, he oversells me sometimes,” you manage to laugh, prompting Jungkook to look at you now. “I know I’m competent. But I don’t know about being your source of help for a Board meeting any more than providing you with data.” Jungkook likes to do things on his own after all, you think to yourself.
“But you’ve been to as many Board meetings as he has.”
“Yes, but only for his presentation.”
“And that’s what I need help with,” he says. “I just need direction, I guess. Or affirmation that how I’m doing it is the right way. Or tips on who to woo or who to not take seriously.”
Jungkook has been to a few Board meetings but he’s never had to present anything. He’s also never had to engage with the members so he didn’t pay much attention to them because he didn’t feel the need to. These appointments were all a few years too early, and while he’d had a critical position in the Southeast Asian headquarters, everything had gone through his uncle who headed the office then.
This is the first time that Jungkook feels the magnitude of all his decisions, and that every move he makes is being assessed. And even with his father and Hoseok giving him guidance, they have their own teams to manage and an entire company to run, just like him. Somehow, with all the people around him, Jungkook still feels alone.
You, with your perpetual presence and surprising warmth, are the only one who makes him feel otherwise. And it terrifies him more than anything.
“Well, I’ve picked up a few things along the way,” you hum. “I can maybe go through my notes and share them with you.”
“Good. I’d like to do that over lunch, since I’ll have you and Manager Lee watch me practice the presentation around 2.”
Jungkook picks up the slight fall of your face. “Is that a problem?” He asks. “Did you have lunch plans?”
“Nothing more important than assisting you, Mr. Jeon,” you say, a change of expression indicating that you indeed had prior commitments that you’re putting off because of him. “I’ll inform Manager Lee about meeting with him after.”
You head out and return to your desk to work on your remaining tasks for the morning until lunch time rolls by and you accompany Jungkook to a nearby restaurant as he’d asked. You try not to get too excited about the meal in front of you and then control yourself from letting out orgasmic sounds from the succulent piece of salmon that’s melting in your mouth. This check-in seems too important for Jungkook and you want to support him in any way you can.
“How was Hoseok during his first Board meeting?” Jungkook starts.
“Nervous, a little rattled. His sister left him behind with a lot of work and she was abroad for most of the time so they weren’t able to meet up,” you share. “But he got up there and presented all the office’s gains for the past months and then explained his plans moving forward. He had all these good ideas on policy and strategy and he articulated them well. He had to take over multiple small projects and he showed how he planned to manage all of them. His charms sort of hid away the anxiety he was feeling and I guess that eventually helped him get rid of it.”
“Well, that’s one thing I can’t claim that I have,” Jungkook sighs.
He looks at you to see your reaction, and the awkwardness on your face makes him internally laugh.
“I can lie to you if you want me to,” you say, and he chuckles, surprising you both, though he acts like he doesn’t mind.
“I’d actually want you to be as honest with me as possible, Ms. Cho. I don’t want you, of all people, to suck up to me to get on my good graces.”
“Great, since I wasn’t on it in the first place,” you trail, earning you another laugh, and you wish this could at least lessen the pressure he’s putting himself under.
“That’s true,” he says, holding your gaze. He turns to his food before he gets sucked in your gorgeous eyes even more. “But I mean it. I don’t exactly know how to charm people, much less the Board. I don’t want to add to the narrative they already have of me having terrible social skills. But I also don’t want them to think I’m being fake or pretentious.”
“If I may, you’ll botch that aspect if you keep thinking about it,” you advise. “Perhaps you can just focus on what you’re good at. Delivering a presentation, regardless of what it’s about, is a skill. You have all the information and I can add some more if you’re not confident with them. You also tweaked some existing processes and you can build on it. But also, the Arts Center will definitely be their focus, so talk about it the way you would with your father and the team… and me. You let us envision it with your words and your visuals and those are all you need.”
“Okay then. I’ll just imagine they’re all vegetables or something so I can focus.”
“Mrs. Doi likes making eye contact because she wants to feel like you’re conversing with her,” you say. “Mrs. Seo asks a lot of irrelevant questions but you have to answer as if they’re important. Mr. Ong likes being acknowledged every time he says something or even nods. So I don’t recommend acting as if they’re inanimate. Maybe just with Mr. Wang because he falls asleep in everything, but don’t take it personally. I think it’s a medical condition.”
Jungkook’s amused look encourages you to continue.
“Mr. Mun doesn’t really get design and building terms so you’d have to explain them at least twice. Mr. Bong tends to act all mighty but he doesn’t really know much. Same with Mr. Im and Ms. Hwa. The rest are fine,” you say. “Mr. Saito is very thoughtful. He’s a designer so his insights would be good. Ms. Cheng is unproblematic and overall just supportive. Mr. Yeon is just… there. They’re quite intense when it comes to profits and the company’s image but if you stand by what you know, they won’t really say much.”
“Wow, that’s… that’s a lot to take in. And also very informative,” Jungkook states. “I never noticed any of those.”
“Well, you had your reasons to be in those meetings and maybe you didn’t have a reason to pay attention to them,” you shrug. “I do. I thought it was an added way that I could help Mr. Jung. Assistants are asked to sit on the side of the room so we can be easily signaled for anything and I thought I could use that position to observe the Board members and see how they respond to the presentation. It helped for the succeeding ones and it took the pressure off him in terms of needing to appease them.”
“Makes sense,” Jungkook hums. “Worrying about how they’ll react or what they’ll say is half of the pressure.”
“It is. I couldn’t help Mr. Jung for his first time because it was mine, too, but he picked things up quite easily. He knew who to pay attention to.”
“Well, considering that I don’t seem to be ideal for this relationship-heavy position, I’ll have to pay attention and appease all of them, it seems.”
“If I may, Mr. Jeon, you can take it as a challenge,” you advise, feeling more comfortable in being honest now. “I may be just a humble assistant but I’ve seen things. With all the praises for Mr. Jung - which are deserved, of course - I’ve witnessed his moments of distress, which is perfectly normal for anyone. A-yeong had to remind him of how good he was everyday because he needed that push and it helped him. It also helped that he was trying to prove something and that he was always told that he had all the qualities to do that.”
“Not everyone has a supportive wife like him though. Or like my father,” Jungkook laughs dryly.
“They had supportive assistants,” you offer, trying to be optimistic. “I had to fill-in as Mr. Jung’s sounding board and I was always in awe at his approach to things.”
“Which is very different from mine, I know,” Jungkook says unintentionally, the sigh making you feel like he’s tired of the comparison, and you feel a bit bad at having to seemingly remind him of that.
“And which isn’t bad at all,” you try to assure him. “Just because it’s different, doesn’t mean it’s not right.”
Well, it wasn’t right to treat you the way I did, he wants to say, but the words stay in his head and at the tip of his tongue.
“That’s… comforting,” he says instead.
“I was trying to be assuring but comforting is fine, too,” you chuckle. “But I mean it, sir. I know there are all these expectations and I won’t be able to truly understand what the pressure is like but if you allow it to challenge you, you might even surprise yourself. And then you’ll end up surprising them, too. But do it for you. At the end of the day, they’re just the Board but you’re the Vice President. And you’re you. You’re all you can control.”
There’s a beat of silence as Jungkook takes in everything you’d said. You have this persistence about you that’s reflected in the way you carry yourself and in the way you relate with others, especially towards him despite how he’d treated you not long ago. Regardless of what you said, he thinks you know exactly what he feels when it comes to dealing with pressure. He supposes that working for his family can do that to someone, especially when it’s him.
“Such moving words, Ms. Cho,” he finally says.
“I didn’t mean to give unwanted advice,” you shake your head in disappointment.
“I needed it though,” he surprises you. “Other than Hoseok or even Yoongi, who are both busy themselves, I only have you as a sounding board. And as support. So, uh, thanks.”
He says his gratitude with a soft tone, almost embarrassingly. You can tell it’s something he doesn’t say that often, but you take it, as you think it’s another step towards him trusting you even more. And you need that trust for now; it’s this peaceful and honest dynamic with him that’s making your job bearable.
Lunch continues with Jungkook asking more questions about some of the Board members and you dishing some dirt on some of them as what you’ve heard in the office washrooms, perhaps the only gossip you don’t take with a grain of salt. He’s amused, and you think this is the most expressive you’ve seen him.
You proceed to meet with Manager Lee in the conference room where Jungkook goes through each slide presentation, asking both of you for more information he thinks he needs and about how he’s carrying himself, his tone, his pace, and his engagement. It’s good enough for a first run-through, Manager Lee says, and Jungkook decides to dry-run it again on Thursday.
The rest of your day goes by a little stressfully. There are multiple events that you have to organize and coordinate with other offices, and those are what you work on until you clock out on time.
Jungkook stays behind for only half an hour before deciding he’s had enough of looking through his notes and will return to them tomorrow. He takes the elevator and nods when Yoongi enters.
“Hey,” Jungkook greets. “How are the designs for the Changwon mid-rise?”
“It’s 6:00. I don’t wanna talk about work,” Yoongi whines.
Jungkook knows this. It’s also why he likes to tease his friend about it.
“Fine. We can just stand next to each other awkwardly until we have to get off,” Jungkook says.
“Hmm,” Yoongi hums. “Or, we can talk about how my lunch plans changed because someone asked my lunch partner for a meeting.”
The tension immediately rises and Jungkook hates how affected he is by Yoongi’s teasing.
“Ah, so it was you. Well, she did say it wasn’t as important as what we were meeting about,” Jungkook hits back.
“True. It’s about the Board meeting after all. It’s a pretty big deal.”
Jungkook starts to feel hot all over, as the thought of you and Yoongi conversing about your thwarted lunch plans because of him plays in his head. It’s a mix of frustration and disappointment. While the meeting was in no way confidential, he just hates the idea that it was something you shared with Yoongi. Perhaps it’s just after the fact, considering that Jungkook thinks it was a good lunch. You clearly enjoyed the dish - he could see how you tried to control your reactions to it - and your conversations went by smoothly. You were honest and supportive; he was open and all the more surprised with how well you were able to calm him down. It’s as if someone else was privy to that moment you both shared, even if Yoongi wasn’t there.
“Huh, I thought you were over her,” Jungkook says, the bitterness slicing through. If his friend picks it up, he doesn’t say anything.
“I am. We were just gonna have lunch at this noodle house because she was craving it,” Yoongi clarifies. “I told you, I’m her only friend here. It’s nice to share a meal with someone who cares about you every once in a while, you know? It’s hard being a working adult and we all need a bit of a break and a companion sometimes. It didn’t mean anything more than that.”
Jungkook chooses not to respond and Yoongi could tell why. There’s this look of annoyance painting the younger man’s face, which makes him a lot more transparent than he wishes he was.
But Yoongi can see right through his friend. It’s not something he raises though, but he won’t be surprised if Jungkook dwells on this. He just hopes it isn’t to your detriment again.
The ride home wasn’t as terrible last night, and after your elder neighbor gave you some stew because she cooked too much, you had a satisfying dinner and an even more satisfying slumber.
You feel like the end of the week isn’t too far ahead - although there really isn’t anything exciting for you except for a date with your bed - and you just want to get through all your tasks for the day and get that jjajangmyeon that Yoongi said he’ll get for you today so you can eat it for dinner. You were initially upset at having to pass up on him for yesterday’s lunch, but you’d be the first to admit that sharing that meal with Jungkook was still worthwhile.
Not only was the dish you ordered one of the best things you’ve ever eaten, it was also nice to see Jungkook loosen up a bit after feeling tense all morning because of his presentation. You liked that he’s being open to getting support from you, as it seems that he sees you now as more than just the assistant who’s there to serve him. He seems to appreciate your thoughts and didn’t even act bitterly when you gave him unsolicited advice. You feel even more that your relationship improves daily.
That is, until you enter his penthouse this Wednesday morning with barely a look of acknowledgement from him. Going through your routine, he doesn’t say much; he stays silent the entire ride to the office as well.
When you enter his room to serve his coffee, his furrowed brows have returned and his jaws are clenched as he types away on his desktop.
“Ms. Cho,” he calls out, his voice stern once again.
You turn around to face him, wondering what has happened since you left the office yesterday.
“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”
“I just wanted to raise that while I understand you have personal relationships with other employees, I do not appreciate you divulging the topics of our meetings with them. Even if they’re my friend as well.”
His last sentence gives away who he’s talking about, and the conversation with Yoongi after you canceled your lunch plans with him rings in your head.
It was a harmless statement, you want to say; you didn’t share any more than it being a meeting about his presentation. There was no ill-intent in you telling Yoongi why you couldn’t see him for lunch. But you choose to pass up on reasoning with Jungkook. He builds his wall up even more when you do, and you don’t want things to be that way again, not when they seemed to be going okay already these past few days.
So you nod and concede. “I understand, Mr. Jeon, and I apologize. I won’t do it again.”
Jungkook can’t help but just look at you, internally smacking himself as your face falls further and as you, once again, feel far away because of his own stupidity.
“Is there anything else you need, sir?”
He shakes his head no, and you bow in response, heading out, with the sadness in your eyes as the last thing he sees.
Jungkook is unable to focus on his emails and the conference call he takes part in. The words and thoughts are all jumbled when he practices his presentation, as his gaze constantly flits to your spot just outside where you sit, doing your tasks while looking detached and dejected.
He assumes you didn’t come to work expecting to be called out the way he did with you, which in hindsight, didn’t seem necessary, especially knowing how it’s affecting you right now. Things were going well between both of you after all - he’s being more open and you’re being more comfortable. Information was flowing smoothly, and communication has improved. And he just went ahead and screwed all that up.
Jungkook starts to feel stuffy. He’s been in his office working on things for the Arts Center and practicing most of the day, with you only coming in to bring the lunch he’d asked Mr. Ri to buy and his cups of coffee. You’ve avoided his gaze and haven't said much to him, too.
He decides to take a walk outside. The outdoor space on this floor has nice benches and a small garden that overlooks the Han River. He’s seen the team eat there sometimes, and while the weather may be a little too hot for it, he’d much rather breathe in the air than his humidifier.
But as he takes his time to open the door, he hears a familiar voice from outside.
“Fine, if you won’t take the sandwich, at least take the noodles,” Yoongi says. “You’ve been craving that all weekend.”
“Not anymore,” you huff, seemingly annoyed.
“Hey, did I do something wrong?” Yoongi asks, calm and understanding in tone, traits that Jungkook could only hope to have.
“No… I don’t know,” you sigh. “Just that, whatever I talk to you about or mention, other people don’t need to know them, okay? No matter how harmless they are. Let’s just… not talk about work stuff. Especially in the office. That’s it.”
“Ah, so that’s what this is about.”
“What do you—”
“Mr. Min,” Jungkook calls out, fully opening the door now. “I have design guidelines I need you to go over. I need them by tomorrow morning.”
“Okay, Jungkook,” Yoongi bitterly replies, knowing what’s happened. “Just send them over to me.”
“Ms. Cho will do that right now.”
You nod in acknowledgement of Jungkook’s instruction and remain focused on your desktop. There’s silence in the air and tension that you can’t deal with right now.
“Can I help you with anything else, Mr. Min?”
“Nah. If I do, I’ll check with your boss first if I can ask you for it. Don’t want you getting in trouble because of me.”
You finally look up at him, a tinge of annoyance painting his face, a rarity since Yoongi doesn’t seem to ever be irate about anything.
“And I’ll just take this jjajangmyeon if you don’t want it,” he adds, taking the container that’s on the ledge of your desk with him, before walking out of your area.
You can’t help the pout that forms on your lips. You really love that noodle house’s version and you’ve been craving it for days. It’s where you and Yoongi were both supposed to have lunch yesterday but Jungkook spoiled it, and it wouldn’t have mattered as much, until it became a reason for him to be upset with you again. You’re not exactly sure why, but much as you want to question your boss this time, you don’t have the energy for it. It doesn’t seem worth it, but it also doesn’t change the fact that Yoongi might have said something to Jungkook, and that’s a dynamic you’re still unsure how to read or deal with.
Your gaze shifts to the man himself, who looks less annoyed than he did at the start of the day. You don’t know how his practice has been going, since he hasn’t asked you to run it with him, but you suppose he’s doing alright. He’s been in his room all day doing that and taking calls in between.
Jungkook looks away and heads out. He lets the summer air clear his mind a little before he goes back inside. It’s 6PM by the time he emerges from his room, surprised at seeing your face still buried in piles of papers.
“Ms. Cho, I’ll be heading to Hoseok’s for dinner,” he says, getting your attention. “Anything that needs my signature or approval can wait tomorrow.”
He hopes you’ll read through his words, as he wishes you’d take a rest yourself, like you advise him to do.
“Finance needs your expense reports first thing tomorrow morning, Mr. Jeon,” you say, a little too stoic than he’s used to. “These can be signed tomorrow when you arrive.”
Jungkook just nods, knowing there’s not much he can do if you don’t want to go home yet. But he does leave you with a reminder.
“Ms. Cho,” he says before leaving. He’s met with curious eyes that he tries not to fall into. “Make sure to eat a proper dinner.”
He walks out too quickly, not wanting to see your reaction.
You’re too tired to react, but that just pushes you to finish all your work and head to the pantry for some biscuits. It’s then that you see the paper bag with a note on it.
For ___. Do not touch!
At the back, Yoongi writes, I’m sorry. Here’s a man who knows how to apologize, you think to yourself.
The bowl of jjajangmyeon is inside, as well as a container of gimari. The scent reminds you of how hungry you are, so you heat up the noodles and inhale your dinner as you stand by the table. The empty office and the faint sounds of the air conditioning make you think of how alone you really are - working past your hours on a Wednesday evening, a takeaway meal from a friend you’re pushing away, and a stressful trip back to your empty studio apartment.
You rarely ever feel lonely. You don’t equate being alone with that specific emotion or state. There’s certainty and clarity you get from being on your own. But on certain days, you let yourself crack a little and be vulnerable. On certain days, you let yourself admit that being alone makes you feel lonely, and that at this precise moment, it’s exactly what you feel.
You send Yoongi a message of thanks but don’t extend the conversation after he replies. You know it isn’t his fault, and knowing him, he wouldn’t have deliberately said anything that would’ve put you in this position. It could just be Jungkook misconstruing things, but you’ve been caught off guard and you don’t feel like dealing with anyone right now.
Resuming your work, you do your last review of the expense report and leave it on his desk for his signature in the morning - a struggle considering how messy it is, which is also a rarity, as he always likes to keep things organized. You can tell how stressed he is just by this, and the thought hits you again that it’s the Board meeting in two days, and he needs you to be your best for him; he needs you to be calm and stable for him.
Whatever you’re feeling can be pushed to the side until next week. You’ll talk to Yoongi after all this is over, you tell yourself; it’s more important that you focus on your tasks and just act as professionally and as unbothered as possible.
That proves to be easy early the next morning. You go about preparing Jungkook’s day in his penthouse, going over your coordination and organization of the upcoming events and acting as if what happened yesterday doesn’t bother you, with him not acting out of the ordinary, too. It’s easy when you get to the office as well. He signs off on the expense reports and you go to finance with only minimal clarifications needed.
But when you return to your desk and Jungkook calls you to his room, you feel the tension start to build as you find Yoongi seated on the chair, his face turning sullen at the sight of you.
You nod at him but look away immediately, shifting your gaze towards Jungkook.
“What can I help you with, Mr. Jeon?”
“Deciding on the pieces to be displayed in the event halls of the Arts Center,” he replies. “Artist Lee Jaemin gave us her portfolio for us to choose from. And I’d like you and Yoongi to work on it together before lunch.”
This prompts you to look at Jungkook in surprise. He just told you off about the things you told Yoongi - which, to your defense, wasn’t even anything substantial - and now he’s making you work with the man.
“What about the run through of your presentation, sir?” You ask.
“I’ll do it with Manager Lee. His feedback will be adequate,” Jungkook replies. “I need your options because I’ll be speaking with her tonight about the chosen pieces.”
“I…, uh,” you stutter. “In what way can I be of help, Mr. Jeon? Wouldn’t Mr. Min be enough to make those decisions?”
“You hold the budget, Ms. Cho,” he reminds you. “We need to make sure we follow it. And you and Mr. Min understand my vision more than anyone and I need both of you to bring that to life with those artworks. I’m packed with meetings today so I don’t have time to sort through all of them. I trust that you’ll make the best decisions.”
“Of course we will, Jungkook,” Yoongi says, a bit of bitterness laced in it. “___ and I work well together. It isn’t the first time.”
Jungkook merely nods, and you feel the tension build up even more as both men share hardened looks that you can’t particularly decipher.
“I… I’ll go ahead and prepare the conference room. I shall see you there shortly, Mr. Min.”
You exit the office and breathe a sigh of relief from being out of there. You don’t know what their friendship is like, so you’re unsure if the tension is a sign of something serious or if it’s just a normal thing for them. You choose to brush it off for now and prepare for the meeting, walking to the pantry for a cup of tea before you do.
Back inside, both men remain unmoving, their gazes not faltering away from each other. Yoongi’s look of displeasure is a contrast to Jungkook’s somber, almost guilty face.
“Driving a wedge between us is kind of an asshole move, you know?” Yoongi finally says. “I don’t know what your deal is but this isn’t how you make it up to her. You don’t get to be nice one day then just decide you’ll be jealous and irrational the next without her even knowing what she did.”
“That’s… that’s not what I was trying to do,” Jungkook reasons.
“Then what were you trying to do?” Yoongi scoffs. “I was the one she turned down to have lunch with you. Actually, it was her plan, because she’s been spending so much time alone and she just wanted to hang out with a friend. And not only did you hinder that, you also made her feel like she did something wrong when all she said was that you had to talk about the Board meeting. No one would even bat an eye. Now she can’t even talk to me properly without fearing it’ll hurt your fragile ego.”
The truth is a huge slap on Jungkook’s face, and he feels it sting. He’s seen your comfort around his friend a few times. He also knows that Yoongi has been looking out for you when you fail to take care of yourself. And because of that jealousy and his fragile ego, you might just end up pushing Yoongi away, and isolating you is the last thing Jungkook wants to do.
He tries to say something but his throat dries up, knowing that verbalizing anything would prompt him to face feelings he’s trying so hard to suppress. He hopes Yoongi sees right through him, and the sullen look of the older man says he might.
“You’re not a bad person, Jungkook,” Yoongi says. “I don’t know what about her makes you like this. But if all you’ll do is find fault in everything she does, you’re gonna lose all the progress in your relationship. And you've got to know that’s not fair to her. You know she doesn’t deserve that.”
“She doesn’t.”
It’s the way Jungkook says the words that Yoongi knows his friend regrets what he’d done, perhaps not just yesterday but the other times as well. There’s this emptiness in Jungkook’s eyes that Yoongi hasn’t seen before; he doesn’t want the younger man to drown and lose himself in it.
“I’m… I’m, uh—”
“I know,” Yoongi interjects, knowing how hard it is for Jungkook to verbalize what he feels. “And I forgive you. I suggest you find the words and say them to her. Yeah?”
Jungkook merely nods, knowing that would be difficult for him, not because he won’t mean it but because they mean so much more. With you, it always does.
“I’ll head to meet with her now.”
“Please fix it,” Jungkook almost pleads. “I think she needs you.”
Yoongi gives a look of understanding then heads out to the conference room where he finds you seated already. The lights are dim, allowing him to see Lee Jaemin’s art pieces projected on the wall. You’re focused on your laptop screen, not budging even as he opens the door and sits next to you.
“Are you still mad at me?” Yoongi asks, urging you to look at him.
“No,” you say softly.
“Then why do you act like you still are?” He asks sullenly. “You know I’m sorry.”
“It isn’t your fault though,” you reply, finally turning to him, your own soft eyes mirroring his. “You shouldn’t be apologizing.”
“But I want to. Because I know it matters that you hear the words even if they’re not from the person who needs to be saying them.”
“You know he doesn’t do that,” you sigh, knowing exactly who he means.
“He’ll have to learn how to. Or just stop having a reason to apologize in the first place.”
“We’ll see about that,” you shrug. “But I’m sorry, too. I just didn’t know how to act yesterday and earlier. I just didn’t want any more drama.”
“I know, and it’s okay. It’s not your fault either. I had to call him out for it.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. I called him an asshole.”
“You–what?”
“Well, sort of. He had to hear it, and it seemed like he knew it, too. That's why he wanted me to fix things. Not that anything was broken, as far as I know.”
“Is that why he made me meet with you?”
“Yes, about something that he and I could easily do over coffee or a meal,” Yoongi chuckles. “But like I told you before - he tries. It’s usually just a misstep or something more complicated than actually saying sorry.”
“It’s hard for him to say, I guess. Maybe he just has his own ways of saying them.”
“It’s still not an excuse to be an asshole though.”
“At least you’re there to call him out for it,” you chuckle.
Yoongi laughs along, knowing it’s a role in Jungkook’s life that he wouldn’t mind taking. And just like that, the tension between the two of you is gone. He throws in a few jokes in there that take seconds for you to process, and it’s his crinkled smile that makes you smile and feel comfortable as well. It’s the icebreaker you need before getting to work, and it takes you both until lunchtime to decide on which of Lee Jaemin’s pieces you think would fit well in the event halls that Jungkook wants to put them in.
It’s a different experience for you, as you’ve never made decisions like this before. You wouldn’t say you’re artistic in any sense, but Yoongi’s approval of your choices and agreement with your reasoning make you feel that you aren’t as design-blind as you think. And while Jungkook has the final say - you’re not even sure if your choices would make the final cut - it’s still satisfying to see the empty spaces come to life on your screen with artworks that you chose with Yoongi, while still being within budget.
You both walk back to your work area where you see Manager Lee, and he tells you that Jungkook seems ready for tomorrow’s Board meeting. You enter his office with Yoongi, presenting what you’ve come up with - the greens and pinks common in her pieces give the room so much life, and the imperfections of her subjects leave viewers with much to admire. From the tropics to intimacy, the bright yet muted palette of the images elicits both joy and loneliness.
Jungkook goes through them while you and Yoongi look on.
“I’ll check each piece again later,” Jungkook says. “But these look good; I’d choose these myself.”
“___ chose most of them,” Yoongi says, earning him a glare from you.
“Is that so, Ms. Cho?” Jungkook asks.
“Mr. Min helped. And those pieces just spoke to me, I guess,” you answer shyly. “They’re beautiful pieces, Mr. Jeon. But I don’t have any arts or design background so please feel free to change them.”
“We’ll see,” he says, looking at you with a kind of affirmation that you’re not used to.
You nod in response and check the time. He’s got another meeting in an hour and he should be having lunch soon.
“What would you like to eat, Mr. Jeon? I can get it for you,” you say.
“No need. I asked Mr. Ri to get me something. I figured you might have lunch plans,” Jungkook responds, glancing at you and then Yoongi.
You look at the man next to you, who motions towards the door and you get what he means immediately.
“Okay, Mr. Jeon. I’ll go take my break now.”
You walk out with Yoongi who asks you what you’re craving, and sweet and sour pork comes to mind. He chuckles at your excited face, and you grab your purse and head out, turning back once to catch Jungkook watching you walk away.
Maybe this is his apology. In whatever form it is, you’ll take it. You find sometimes that the silence in place of words means a lot more, in ways that feel more.
The rest of your afternoon again feels like a blur, as you meet with the support team about the upcoming events and make sure everyone is on the same page. You spend an hour on the phone with Lucas about some Singapore and Malaysia-based Korean artists who are flying for the project launch in a few weeks while Jungkook goes from one virtual meeting to another.
It’s 5:30 before you know it, and you’re working on your spreadsheets when Jungkook walks out of his office, saying that he’s meeting with Lee Jaemin later in the evening and that he’ll just update you about the final pieces.
You acknowledge him and wish him goodbye, but he stops on the way, at the entrance towards the hallway, making sure he remains present while unable to see you.
“Ms. Cho,” he calls out, surprising you.
“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”
“About what I said yesterday, I apologize,” he says, almost stuttering. “Especially if it caused a rift between you and Yoongi. I didn’t intend that.”
You’re too shocked to say anything, much more process the words that you can’t believe he’s saying. But he really is apologizing; he really is trying.
“It… it’s okay, Mr. Jeon. I understand.”
There’s a beat of silence, and you’re left to observe him from this angle - jaws clenched, head bowed down.
He deeply exhales. “I’ll go now. No need to stay late; you can go home when you’re able.”
“Okay, sir. Have a good night.”
He finally leaves, and the silence engulfs you. Sometimes, words in any form truly matter. You could only hope that Jungkook knows that.
The suit that you choose for Jungkook for today’s big day is a dark gray textured piece. He looks immaculate as he stands before you, and you try your best to even your breathing as you fix his tie like you do every morning. There’s something about him today that makes him more handsome than usual - a quality that you’ve found yourself admitting and accepting more easily as the days go by. He exudes a certain kind of confidence and power with his attire and his parted hair. There’s determination in his eyes as he stands tall, ready to face the day.
And you’re there, admiring the way he carries himself just inches away.
You fix the collar of his suit and make sure that all creases are flattened. You meet his eyes and the confidence melts away a little.
“Do I look respectable enough?” He asks, a little less serious than you expected. It’s when you see the nervousness in his eyes that you know how important today is for him.
“Yes,” you assure him. “You also look ready to impress the Board members with your presentation and get them on your side. I’m sure your vision about the Arts Center will make them believers.”
“Ah, well, that’s asking for too much, I guess,” he laughs dryly. “But I was on the call with Lee Jaemin last night and she was so excited for the launch. It would get her to visit Seoul often, she said, and that made me realize that artists like her and the consumers, the ordinary people, the ones who the Center is for - they’re the ones who matter. It’s their interest and appreciation that I value, not the Board’s.”
“That’s a good realization to come to, then, Mr. Jeon,” you smile, suddenly feeling like you’re seeing a different man - someone who cares about meaning and the power of art. “I suppose if that’s your mindset coming into the meeting, then you’ll definitely do well.”
“I think if there’s at least one other person who ends up believing in the value of the Center, that would be enough for me,” he says, holding your gaze for a while before turning away. “But uh, today is more than that. You and I both know they’re there to assess my capabilities - social and otherwise - and definitely point out what I lack, or probably tell me I’m not cut out for this job or that I’m terrible or something. I mean, you would know, right?”
His eyes, focused downward, slowly shift to you. You know what he means, and given that he isn’t the type to admit to things, this is probably the only other time that he comes close to acknowledging how he was to you.
“Mr. Jeon, if you’re indeed terrible, I would have quit after a week. Or… well, after the second day,” you admit.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Well, I couldn’t afford to,” you chuckle to ease the tension. “But also I… I saw the change. And that’s always a good thing. Lacking something is normal. We all have things we need to work on but that doesn’t make us terrible people. That just means we need a bit of understanding from others. And that also means we just have to keep trying to be better.”
There’s a sullenness in Jungkook’s eyes but there’s acceptance and understanding, too. Perhaps it’s the most sincere you’ve seen him look, and of all the days that he needs assurance about how he’s been, today is when he needs it the most. Sure, there are still things about him that you wish he’d work on. He’s still not the best person in the world. He could still be a bit impulsive with you and can sometimes be irrational in your eyes and definitely needs work on dealing with his emotions. But he’s trying. That always counts for something.
“We do,” he nods.
“Your father believes in you. Hoseok believes in you, so does Yoongi.” Holding his gaze, you add, “so do I. So trust in yourself. If you can’t do it for you, you can do it for us.”
“Is giving pep talks part of the job description?”
“It should,” you giggle. “But I’ve given several of them to Mr. Jung. I’ve learned that during stressful moments or just when we’re a little overwhelmed, it makes a difference to hear the things we already know from someone else.”
“I’m a little stubborn, but I hope you continue doing that for me. For as long as you think I deserve it.”
Jungkook doesn’t know where the honesty and vulnerability are coming from. But he’s found that with you, it’s natural - difficult because they’re things he rarely is around other people, but natural. He doesn’t want to question it anymore for fear of learning what else is instinctive for him when it comes to you. But with the way his insides melt with how you sweetly and assuringly smile at him, he realizes that his defenses against you are not that strong to begin with.
“Well, we don’t have time to pass by a cafe for a nice breakfast so I asked Mr. Ri to get some instead,” you announce, changing the subject now.
You walk towards the dining room where he follows, and you present a spread of pastries, walnut tarts, and sausage rolls alongside a large cup of coffee.
“I don’t really eat before a big meeting,” he says, frowning a little. “I’m sure Lucas told you that.”
“He did, but I’m a little stubborn, too,” you counter. “Breakfast is important before a big meeting, Mr. Jeon. It’ll help you focus, even if that’s just one tart or half a danish or a quarter of a roll. Eating will improve your energy levels and lift your mood. It might help ease your nerves somehow.”
“Fine, but I’ll just have half a roll.”
“No worries. You can always eat some more throughout the day,” you say.
Jungkook ends up finishing the entire roll and a walnut tart, while you finish a danish and settle for tea. You pack up what’s left, and he instructs you to give the rest to the team.
The car ride is quiet, save for the gentle sound of his pencil gliding through the pages of his leather notebook. He seems to be channeling his energy in a way that allows him to be calm, you think, and that’s a good thing.
You arrive at the building and Jungkook goes straight to his office while you excuse yourself to go to the conference room to help the other assistants prepare it. You don’t see Jungkook until an hour later when he enters, and you lead him to his seat then serve his coffee afterwards. It gets busy quickly as the Board members arrive, and you help in ushering them to their seats and catering to their needs. Before you know it, the assistants are heading out, leaving them and the executives to discuss confidential matters that none of you are required to know.
It’s another two hours before the presentations start, but Jungkook won’t go until after lunch. So you settle in your desk and work on various things, unable to fully focus because your mind constantly goes to him.
This is normal, you convince yourself; you had the same nervous energy for Hoseok the first time he did this. But then again, it was your first time, too. Perhaps it’s knowing how much it means to Jungkook and his own worries that makes you feel uneasy.
You understand the feeling of wanting to prove oneself, and not always being able to fully express that desire to others. He’s been honest with you recently, and sometimes it can feel quite isolating when no one is there to share the burden, which is why you’ve been trying to cheer him up and encourage him, in hopes that he’ll feel supported, that whatever happens today, he knows he has you on his side.
You proceed to the function hall for the catered lunch where you meet Jungkook. He shares the table with Hoseok and Bitna, as well as Ji-woo and her assistant, and you engage in conversation with them like old times.
Jungkook watches you speak to his cousins casually but respectfully, and he doesn’t miss the inside jokes and personal details that you all share. You still look a little reserved, but there’s this comfort in the way you express yourself around people who trust and care for and respect you.
He’s always known Hoseok and Ji-woo to be great with the employees, and a part of Jungkook envies that they’re able to just share parts of themselves with others, that they’re able to expend their time and energy being around them, something that’s always been difficult for him. He likes his privacy, likes his own space; he revels in the silence to battle the noise in his head. He’s protective of his thoughts and his feelings; he’s particular with who uses his time and energy on; he keeps his distance because it’s always easier - to not be involved, to not be invested, to not be known at all rather than be judged because of what people know.
He also thinks it’s quite isolating. Outside of his family - whom he keeps his distance from as well - the only person who knows him enough is Lucas, but it’s as shallow as just knowing his preferences and his technical opinion on things, not his dreams or fears or everyday thoughts and emotions.
Jungkook isn’t someone that people go to for advice or for encouraging words; he’s not someone that people ask about how he’s doing; he’s not a person that others seek for comfort or warmth. He’s just a man who does his work, that people serve, that people want approval from for their own gains. He’s not someone they’d go through lengths for. He just takes up space that others orbit around but he’s not the center of their world; he isn’t anybody’s.
“Is everything okay, Mr. Jeon?” You disrupt his thoughts. “Is there anything you want?”
“Chocolate milk,” he says too quickly. “Uh, only if there is.”
“Hot?”
“Yes.”
You call the server and ask if they have any, but the man says they don’t, so you decide to head to one of the stalls at the food hall downstairs.
“You don’t have to,” Jungkook says, pulling your wrist in reflex as you stand up.
You’re caught off guard and so is he, and he immediately lets go and apologizes for it. The guilt in his eyes is similar to the one you saw at the restaurant when you’d admitted that he made you feel uncomfortable, and something about it makes you feel moved.
“I mean, uh, it’s okay. It’s not urgent,” he adds, looking away.
“If it’ll help, then I should get it for you, Mr. Jeon,” you insist. “It won’t take long. I’ll be back before lunch ends.”
You don’t wait for a response and head out, leaving Jungkook with curious looks from his cousins.
“So, I see you’ve warmed up to her already,” Ji-woo hums, smiling.
“You could say that,” Jungkook shrugs, acting nonchalant.
“Well, it’s about time you did,” Ji-woo shakes her head. “She works incredibly hard and she’s very reliable.” At the younger man’s nod in agreement, she adds, “you just had to give her a chance. There’s a reason why uncle and Hoseok wanted her around for you.”
“I guess,” Jungkook hums. “She’s… she’s a good person. I don’t really know if I deserve that but she is to me. She’s required to be, I suppose.”
“Or she sees you as a human being who needs a bit of warmth and joy in his life,” Ji-woo suggests. “Kindness goes a long way, you know? She’s said before that there are people who have extended it to her and maybe she’s just doing that, too.”
“Or maybe she sees something in you,” Hoseok says now.
“Like what?” Jungkook scoffs, knowing himself that after he’s treated you, there’s no way you’d see something in him, whatever that is.
“Like an emptiness, or yearning. Something she feels, too,” Hoseok responds. “Maybe she’s unknowingly making you feel something that she wants to feel herself, you know? I had A-yeong, my sister, my parents, my friends... Seeing her now with you, she didn’t pay attention to my every need the way she’s doing now, and that’s not a criticism of her. Perhaps she just knew that I had other people to do that.”
“And I’m the lonely, single, friendless man that she’s stuck with,” Jungkook laughs dryly, although he’s not offended. Deep down, he knows it’s true.
“Sort of,” Hoseok chuckles. “But what I really mean is that she knows what it’s like to not have someone to look after her like that. You may think it’s just her job but I think it’s her not wanting you to feel like there’s no one there for you. Maybe if you see it that way, you wouldn’t think you don’t deserve it. Then you can accept it and maybe you can do the same.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jungkook counters, given that keeping his distance is exactly what he plans to do because any closer would just lead him down a path that he won’t be able to escape from.
“It’s not that deep,” Ji-woo says. “I think what my brother is saying is that it’s okay to be friends, you know? Or just allow her to be nice to you and then return the favor. It’s a much better dynamic. I mean, I’m sure he’s told you but things are just gonna be more challenging down the road, once you’re past the adjusting phase. You’ll need her like you’ve never needed anyone before. I do mean that professionally, but that also requires a kind of relationship where you know and trust and respect each other. It goes both ways.”
Jungkook takes in his cousins’ words, knowing that they speak from experience, and they’ve been doing this longer than he has. He already knows he needs you. That itself terrifies him. He also knows he has to rely on you, and maybe that entails allowing you to care for him in ways that no one - not since Chaerin, at least - has ever done before. That means letting you come close, allowing you to know him, letting you be there for him. Doing the same for you isn’t a question of whether he wants to or not - he’ll probably be denying it to his grave, but it’s about whether he can remain within the boundaries he set for himself, knowing already how you affect him without even doing much.
The thought gives Jungkook a headache, but it’s not something he can give attention to right now. He’s got a presentation to do in less than an hour. He’ll be scrutinized and questioned and probably judged and then he realizes it again - he needs you through all that. He already knows you’ll be encouraging and supportive; you’ve shown that in the past week especially, and he’s appreciated and hated every single moment of it.
The hurried footsteps signal that you’re back, and you take your seat next to him.
You’re panting as you place the cup on the table. “Here you go, Mr. Jeon. I’m not sure if it’s as milky as you want it but the really good cafe downstairs said it should be good. Oh and uh, wrap your hands around it,” you instruct, earning you a curious look. “Your hands are very cold.”
Jungkook does as you say, feeling the warmth of the drink through his skin, even more when he takes a sip and finds that it tastes just as he wanted.
“This is good. Thank you,” he utters, not wanting to meet your eyes.
You exhale a sigh of relief. You know how he has particular tastes and you just went with a hot chocolate even if he specifically said he wanted chocolate milk. There’s a brand he likes from Lucas’ list and you didn’t have time to actually get it or even store the office pantry with it - which you realize now you should do, and you make a mental note of doing an inventory so you could request for more of the things he likes later on.
“You’re welcome,” you reply. “I… I hope it helps for the presentation. Or the nerves. Or just in general.”
“It has,” he confirms, humming with every sip.
Not long after, everyone is instructed to head back to the conference room so the meeting can resume. You take your seat with the other assistants at the side after you’ve ensured that the presentation is ready while Jungkook heads to the front. You watch him go through his notes a final time, and when he sets them aside and looks up, his eyes find yours.
They’re still tainted with worry, you can tell even from several feet away. So you give him a comforting smile, knowing it’s what he needs. You gently nod and give him a double thumbs up as if to say that he can do it, and he nods back, as if to say that he’ll do his best.
And that’s exactly what he does.
The presentation goes for a quarter of an hour, and while he does give a good rundown of the achievements of the past three months, it’s his pitch of the Arts Center that really makes him shine. The visuals are good to begin with. He did those blueprints himself and the designs give life to his vision, but he explains every aspect of the project with just enough detail to enable the audience to imagine how it looks and what it makes them feel. He took into consideration earlier worries about profits and brand reputation, as well as anticipated questions and points of attack, so he goes ahead and addresses them to the point that he can’t be scrutinized for anything that’s lacking. He keeps in mind the qualities of each Board member, so he makes eye contact if he needs to and acknowledges side comments and builds on them.
He’s definitely added more - and improved - since that first runthrough you did with him, and he looks very confident and very respectable. You can tell that he values not just profits but art itself - its creation, its appreciation, and the various ways it can be experienced. As someone who yearns for that kind of passion for something, seeing him like this is quite moving.
It doesn’t help that he looks as good as he does standing up there, and it’s a thought you let yourself have before dispelling it quickly.
He gets approving nods from most of the Board members. The rest still look a bit doubtful, but you suppose they wouldn’t directly criticize Jungkook and his plans in front of everyone after a presentation like that. You also take a peak at CEO Jeon who’s unable to hide how proud he is of his son. Hoseok and Ji-woo exchange smiles as well. But Jungkook remains focused, ready to answer any questions or comments from the Board.
Mr. Mun is the first to commend him and doesn’t ask much. Mr. Im surprisingly praises Jungkook after admitting his reservations, and Mr. Saito, as you expected, asks clarificatory questions that just builds on what was earlier presented. Jungkook’s readiness and creativity are highlighted as well, and you can tell that the older man is extremely excited for this project.
The hour is up before you know it, with only minimal questions and a few comments from the attendees. Ji-woo and Hoseok raise points to help with marketing and earning profit, and you take note of all those for discussion and debriefing next week.
Jungkook thanks everyone before returning to his seat, and you see the breath he lets out after, seemingly glad that that’s at least over. You catch his attention again, and you can’t help your smile. He acknowledges you with a nod, and he turns his focus towards Hoseok as the next presenter. The afternoon goes by like this, with Ji-woo going last and CEO Jeon closing out the meeting.
There’s some time before the fellowship dinner, which is spent with side conversations and check-ins. Mr. Saito goes to Jungkook right away and you see the latter’s face light up a little, although you don’t miss the sniffing and the throat clearing that he does. You think that his cold hands earlier weren’t due to his nervousness; perhaps the last month has finally caught up to him because you truly believe that this man does not rest.
You head out to return to your desk, knowing you’ve got several things to do before the dinner that assistants are invited to. You fly through your notes from earlier and some administrative tasks before heading back to the event hall where you find Jungkook talking to Mrs. Seo and Mr. Ong this time, two people who’d most likely be critical of him so you’re glad that he’s at least forging some relations, if their animated way of speaking is any indication.
You see him excuse himself to head to the washroom, and you take this time to order a cup of ginseng tea for him. It arrives just as he returns to his seat, and when it registers why you’d ordered it, he nods and mumbles his thanks.
“If I may, perhaps you shouldn’t stay long, Mr. Jeon,” you suggest. “It’s been a tiring week and you need to rest.”
Jungkook hates being told what to do, but he’s also never had someone tell him to rest because he needs it, much less even know that he’s not feeling alright.
“I need to engage with the Board,” he reasons. “I’m sure that’s what father would like. I can rest during the weekend.”
“Okay, sir,” you sigh, knowing he’s also right. Perhaps he’s accepted that this is a critical part of his new role as Vice President. “Just let me know if there’s anything more that I can help you with.”
“I will.”
You sit at the table where the other assistants are, engaging in hushed conversations as you talk about the Board members and how tired you all are. It’s nice being around them, as you all share the experience of stress and isolation, of knowing too much sometimes, of security and stagnancy. They know what you’re going through, partially at least - unlike you, they have people to go home to and proper hobbies that excite them. They have loved ones close by and things they look forward to during the weekends. So while they do make you feel understood, you also can’t help but be a bit jealous.
Your thoughts are suspended when Bitna offers to take you home. It’s well past 9 and you’re not keen on staying longer to drink with the rest of the big bosses here. You glance at Jungkook who has a wine in hand, clearly trying his best to keep up with the conversations he’s a part of. He looks incredibly tired - much more than usual - and you feel bad that this isn’t something you can help him with.
You take Bitna’s offer and you both head to your respective bosses to bid your goodbyes. Jungkook nods and mentions his meeting with the artist last night that he says he’ll discuss with you on Monday. There’s more you want to say, but you worry he’ll think you’re nagging about his health - which, you remind yourself, is also part of your job - and you don’t want to end the week on a sour note.
Jungkook watches you leave the event hall and he immediately feels your absence. Even when you spent much of your time apart, he could feel you there, partly because of the ginseng tea that you ordered for him twice at your insistence and partly because the knowledge that you’re around is enough. And now you aren’t, and he suddenly can’t stand any more of the socializing he has to do.
But he powers through it for another hour. When he bids his father goodbye, the older man commends him for his presentation earlier and the way he handled himself throughout the fellowship dinner. It’s assuring, but he knows there’s so much more work to be done so he doesn’t revel in it any longer than a few seconds.
The drive home is quiet. His soft groans as he massages his temples are the only sounds in the car. When he arrives at his empty penthouse, he grabs a bottle of whiskey from the counter and sits on the couch - a glass in hand, necktie and buttons undone, feet on the coffee table, and head rolled back as he reminds himself that he survived the day, that he did a good job, and that he changed some of the Board members’ minds about him.
And much as he tries to keep away the image of you, he’s unable to - there you were in the room, on his side, cheering him on. He didn’t miss the satisfied smile on your face once he finished his presentation, nor your look of worry after the ginseng tea was placed on the table.
You’re just good at that - making him feel like someone looks out for him, that someone else minds that he succeeds, that someone cares that he’s not well and that he should rest.
The smile on his face fades once he’s reminded that you’re supposed to do all that, and that he isn’t anyone special, nor should he be. It’s the thought that keeps him behind the lines - you’re unattainable in so many ways, yet he’s also glad that you are. It’s easier to be mindful of his place like that; it’s easier to accept that you’re you and he’s him, and it’s easier to do his job when he knows you’re just doing yours.
At least, that’s what he hopes.
But when he gets a call from reception the next morning about a package that you dropped off, all that wishful thinking seems pointless. And as he stares at the bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of him, all his thoughts from the night before come crashing down.
Why is everything so hard when it comes to you?
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GAP the Series Ep 5 Stray Thoughts
Last week Mon was accepted into the confidences of Sam's friends, and was given guidance on how to read Sam's moods and responses. We learned that Sam's public persona is artificial and managed by the friends, and we also confirmed that Sam very much likes Mon. Bestie and I gushed over how good everyone looked all episode, and really liked the long pink coat Mon wore.
I still can't believe Tee didn't hit on Mon's friend, Yuki.
I get Sam reflexively choosing to cut off Mon. Her friends may want to tease her, but she already lost both of her sisters because of her grandmother's homophobia and is definitely going to be reactive about losing control of a situation.
I love how we can tell how Mon feels by the intensity and detail of the pinks she's wearing.
Sam may be pissed, but she still came to slay.
I agree, Chin's shirt is too much.
Gosh, Sam is so pathetic. I love her so much. She's so scared of how much she likes Mon, and is so bad at expressing it.
It's kind of interesting how Becky speaks English words with a Thai accent when she's speaking Thai.
Poor Sam. First she's jealous of the food, and now she's jealous of Chin.
Baby is a Messy Eater: GL Edition
I am fighting for my life. The "can we trade and I bite your lips" exchange was so charged. I am fanning myself.
The tension is palpable. So proud of Sam for making her desire clear.
Nop has to go. He ruined a potential first kiss.
Freen is so good at this. She played Sam's frustration and irritation perfectly.
Oh my goodness this confrontation took a deeply uncomfortable turn when Sam asserted her class position. Like, I don't like Nop either, but GODDAMN.
Whoever is in charge of lighting on this show is almost as good as the folks who light Hallmark films.
Oh, the Dutch angles are finally relevant.
The DP was very clever to use the bench and the columns as lines. Also whoever chose to use the sprinkler system like this needs a bonus.
Mon is almost wearing purple today; she must be feeling especially down.
Oh no, now Sam feels she must punish Chin for potentially flirting with Mon.
Sam's Facebook name is "I AM YOUR BOSS." She is too much. I love her.
Okay, something very LGBT happened to Mon when Sam grabbed her chin.
Okay, but Mon also licked Sam's nose a bit there.
I really admire Mon. As much as she adores Sam, she still chided her for being cruel to Chin.
Alright, the lip bite that just wasn't a kiss just sent me out of the park.
That's two days in a row we're getting heartbeat stuff.
I know this is sexy, but I am so scared that Becky is going to fall off those stairs.
Freen is really so funny in this role. I really wasn't sure at first, but I am having a lot of fun.
This is a truly fantastic first kiss. It's so much what Sam has desperately hoped for, but she has to disguise it in a "game" and she has to minimize the impact by calling it normal behavior between gals. She even sidesteps clarifying their relationship. It's tough for Mon, too. She also really wants this, but understands the social politics at stake and doesn't push for more. I'm losing it.
BL has rarely engaged eye-fucking, and Becky and Freen are putting on a clinic.
So glad Mon's coworkers care Bout the health of her lips. They should carry this energy over to GMMTV sets.
Desire is just so attractive on Freen, holy SHIT.
If Sam only has one friend on Facebook, why does this post have six reactions? Also, I love the energy of posting WANT KISS NOW on Facebook because your crush is ignoring your eye-fucking.
Thankfully Jim interrupted with a text, because Sam was not going to stop at a kiss.
Oh no. I can see the camera person in Jim's glasses.
"With that low salary, what are you going to buy?" MA'AM, YOU ARE THE ONE PAYING HER!!!!!
I don't care about anyone else. I liked the cash-cheer joke.
I like Becky's singing voice.
Ah, Mon was feeling poor and inadequate compared to Sam's friends.
New GL Trope Unlocked: Let Me Put This Lip Balm on You.
Becky really delivers on the lovestruck stun effect every time.
There's so much to look forward to in that teaser! We are eating good next weekend!
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The Military Dog Tag Dilemma
Relationship: Stucky x Reader
Warnings: N/A, just fluff
Summary: You just want to wear the military tags of both your men but Steve seems to run into some issues.
A/N: I am also always a sucker for Stucky writing ok and this was my first personal attempt at it and i thought it came out well <3
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Bucky gave you his dog togs within weeks of establishing your relationship with him and Steve.
You loved to mindlessly play with them as the three of you cuddled up in bed, enjoying some pillow talk after, particularly long days. Steve spooning you from behind as you laid on Bucky’s chest, his arm thrown around you, running his fingers through Steve’s hair. Your fingers would fumble with the shiny tags, turning them over in your hand, watching the minimal moonlight hit them every now and then.
You didn’t know what it was about the tags that had you so captivated nearly every night. It felt so simple yet so intimate as you stared at your lover’s name and information engraved in them. While you weren’t exactly an expert on wartime, you knew the tags could serve as gifts to partners, assuring your heart to one another. The concept definitely drifted through your mind from time to time, but you never brought it up.
Bucky, however, seemed to be thinking the same thing. Wordlessly, one night, he slipped off the silver chain, tags clinking together musically, and slid them over your head. The coolness of them tickled your neck as the tags fell to the valley between your breasts.
You didn’t know what to say. Your heart was pounding as you ran your fingers around the necklace. Even Steve seemed a little shocked by the actions. But Bucky was fully pleased as evident by the cocky grin he wore watching you ogle at the gift. He had to admit — knowing you were walking around with his name dangling from your neck did something for him.
"Where are your tags, Steve?" You had asked after placing a loving, appreciative kiss on Bucky’s lips. Now that you obtained Bucky’s tags, it only seemed fitting you wore Steve’s as well.
Steve shifted. You looked up at him only to find him watching the wall across from the bed, seemingly lost in thought. "I-I’m not really sure, honey."
You let out a sad hum at the response. "Well, if you find them, let me know," you yawned, shuffling down in the bed to get comfier. "I’d like both of my men close to me all the time."
Since then, Steve had been on a mission to find dog tags. Going through archives, chain of custody notes, discarded boxes… Everything. There was just something about the entire thing that was driving Steve mad. He was honored you wanted to show off the claim your two lovers had on you but he was also deeply concerned about the fact that currently you only had Bucky’s to wear.
While Steve wouldn’t exactly call himself jealous in this situation, knowing you didn’t love him any less, the relationship was established the way it was and he felt you should still have something of his to truly show for it.
This led Steve on what felt like a manhunt for the "damn dog tags," as he kept referring to them when Bucky would check-in asking if all was okay. Nothing was really okay. He had looked high and low for them, going through every potential record in the database trying to at least confirm there was something to even look for.
He pounded his fist against the desk late one night. Steve had pushed you and Bucky to get some sleep, claiming he had some reports to look over before bed. You two had looked at him suspiciously but eventually agreed, planting loving kisses on his cheeks, and telling him not to stay up too late.
"I get cold without both of you there," you had mumbled with a sleepy yawn following. Your words almost made Steve give up for the night but then he caught a glimpse of the silver chain on your neck. Seeing you like that, using your tired, loving voice, he remembered what he was doing this for. It was you. It was all about you and your love for sentimental things.
He grudgingly agreed to be there in an hour and that seemed to please his two lovers. Except — it was way past an hour. The sky was close to daybreak when he hit the desk in frustration.
Pushing the folders away, Steve leaned back in the chair, sighing. Within seconds, footsteps came from the hall and Bucky appeared in the doorway, watching a frustrated Steve.
"Everything okay in here?" Bucky asked, leaning against the door frame.
"Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine," Steve nodded. "Go back to bed, I’ll be there in a bit."
But Bucky didn’t look the slightest bit convinced. He had a knowing look in his eyes which Steve tried to avoid by looking down at the now splintered desk.
"How are those reports going?"
Steve rolled his eyes, letting out an annoyed groan. Deep down he knew he couldn’t hide anything from Bucky but still, worth a shot.
He pushed all the folders away this time, leaving them at the very edge of the desk. "I did have dog tags, right?"
"That’s still bothering you, huh?" Bucky crossed the threshold into the office and made his way to one of the chairs in front of Steve’s desk. He took one of the folders and sat directly across from Steve. Casually, he thumbed through it, waiting for his partner to start talking.
Steve didn’t really want to get into it again as he had probably hounded Bucky about it all last week but acting like it wasn’t bothering him was getting him nowhere — obviously.
"Yes," Steve sighed. "I just want her to have something from each of us. It’s- It’s hard watching our girl…"
Bucky frowned, "I’m sorry, Steve. I should’ve waited to give them to her."
"No, Buck," Steve leaned forward, reaching his hand out. Bucky took the signal and leaned, placing his own hand in Steve’s. "You wanted her to have them. That’s your call. I just feel disappointed I have nothing to give."
"Well…" Bucky hummed, tilting his head in thought. Steve’s eyes furrowed, trying to get his partner to spit out whatever he was thinking. "What if we ordered you new ones?"
"Can you do that?"
"I honestly don’t know," Bucky chuckled. "But I don’t understand half of what you can do these days, so, I’d imagine there’s a way to get dog tags made."
Steve sighed, leaning back in his chair, disconnecting their touch. It seemed reasonable and would do the job except for the fact— "But they wouldn’t be in combat or- or from the actual military."
Bucky just shook his head. With an annoyed scoff, he said, "Do you think that really matters to her?"
"I guess not…"
"Steve, honey, I promise. It’s about the presentation, the show of it. Our girl is just looking for something personal from you to keep close to her," Bucky assured him. "Plus, I think we can get it updated and personalized. Maybe even write something nice just for her on the back."
Steve had to admit, his heart was jumping happily at the idea. He really couldn’t argue with anything and agreed to the plan. The only issue was — they were a bit out of touch with ordering anything online. You had always been the one to assure online packages and food deliveries arrived but now they had to take you out of the equation. While excited to surprise you, they were slightly unsure about ordering and had to enlist the help of the team who all turned out to be more than happy to assist once they explained their idea.
A few weeks later, you were laying in your shared bed, back against the headboard, body cozied up under the duvet. You were engrossed in a cheesy romance novel, waiting for Steve and Bucky to join you for the night. Eventually, the two came in, but they were still in their work attire.
You frowned at their appearance. "Aren’t you guys coming to bed?"
As you asked your question, you couldn’t help but note their unusual stance. The two men were side-by-side, standing at the foot of the bed, looking down at you. Bucky had his hands in his pockets while Steve appeared to be hiding something behind his back. You eyed them suspiciously.
"We will in a bit, doll," Bucky said. You watched him as he came around to the side of the bed. He sat down and leaned against the headboard, shifting right next to you, sneakily taking the book out of your grip. "But first, Steve has something for you."
"For- For me?" You asked, whipping your head around to face Steve. He had a bit of nervousness to him as he nodded, making his way over to the bed and sitting on the edge.
Silently, he handed you a small box. You eagerly accepted the item, turning it over and over in your hands. Giving it a light shake, the box made a jangling noise. "What is it?" You asked, wide-eyed looking between the two men.
Steve and Bucky both let out soft chuckles at your excitement. "You have to open it to find out," Steve said. He still had an air of anxiousness, running his hands up and down his jean-covered thighs, fidgeting.
To put your poor boyfriend out of his misery, you opened the box. At first, all you noticed was something slim and shiny. Eyes furrowed in confusion, you pulled out what appeared to be a chain. You could feel a slight heaviness to it — and then you saw it. Your jaw dropped as you tossed the box next to you. In your hands was another set of dog tags nearly identical to the ones you already had adorned on your neck — only this pair were inscribed with the name Steven Grant Rogers.
"Steve-," you gasped, staring at the tags laying in the palm of your hands. You were at a loss for words as you read the tag.
"Are- Are they okay?" Steve asked, his nervous hand came up to rest on your thigh, pulling your attention back to him.
"Are you kidding me?" You let out a breathy laugh. "They’re wonderful, honey, thank you so much."
"You’re sure?" He asked again. Bucky gave him a pointed look for his ridiculousness but that didn’t stop Steve from rambling. "I-I couldn’t find mine so, I got a new pair made. I know they’re maybe not as authentic or something but I still wanted-,"
"You had these made?" You cut in. "For me?"
Steve nodded, "You had Bucky’s, so, it was only fair you had something of mine, too."
You couldn’t hold your emotions back at his word. Tears began forming as you looked at your soft, loving partner. You let out little sniffles as you turned back to the tags, still soaking in their meaning. Bucky placed a light touch on your arm as Steve scooted closer, probably suddenly scared by your tears.
"They’re perfect, honey," you whispered as you looked back at him and leaned forward, placing a sweet kiss on Steve’s lips. He eagerly accepted, practically sighing from relief under your touch. "They’re going to go perfect with the tags from my other man." You mumbled and turned to now give Bucky a kiss, who felt very pleased to get a turn to lock lips with you.
Facing Steve again, you handed him the chain. He looked down at it, confused.
"Well, soldier, are you going to put them on me?"
Both of the men chuckled at your actions but Steve happily slid the silver chain over your neck, watching as the tags fell to your chest. Once they landed, they clang nicely with Bucky’s. It sounded like music to your ears.
"I love you both so much," you said, your hand mindlessly running over the pair of tags. "Thank you."
"We love you too, doll," Bucky said. Steve nodded in agreement.
Smiling, you gave them both quick pecks and said, "Now, are you guys coming to bed?"
Bucky scoffed, "How could we ever deny you?"
You giggled. "I don’t think you can seeing as last time I checked I was a special girl."
At your words, both their gazes dropped once again to the tags hanging between your breasts, seeming so at place there.
"You sure are, honey," Steve mumbled, placing a kiss on your cheek.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
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#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fanfiction#steve rogers#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers one shot#steve rogers imagine#stucky x reader#stucky x you#marvel one shot#marvel fanfiction#marvel#mcu#mcu fic#fanfiction#fanfic#one shot#fluff#bucky barnes fluff#steve rogers fluff#writing*
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Fic: You Fake It, You Take It
Rating: Explicit
Fandom: Triple Frontier
Ship: Francisco “Catfish” Morales/You (female reader, established relationship, no kids)
Words: 2,173
Warnings: PTSD (not really described but that's what it is), talk of dubcon, PiV sex, cunnilingus.
Summary: This is basically another version of Balm. I just like to make Frankie suffer. And then have sex with his girl to relieve the pain. And then feel bad about it. What is wrong with me?
You wake up from a muffled sound next to you and for a moment, you don't understand where you are or what the sound was. Then you hear it again and Frankie moves in discomfort by your side and you realize what’s going on. Turning over to him, you put a firm hand on his shoulder, finding it clammy.
“Frankie,” you whisper, “wake up. It’s okay, baby, you’re safe.”
The nightmares are no longer frequent. Some nights they’re manageable and some… not so much. There are times when Frankie refuses to go back to sleep and instead disappears to the living-room to turn on the TV and then staring ashen-faced at the shopping channel without really seeing anything.
You hate it when it hits him like that. You can’t do anything to help him and that feeling is awful.
“Frankie,” you say again, in less of a whisper this time. “Wake up, baby.”
He jerks out of sleep, sits upright and stares into the dark of the room, breathing heavily. You let your hand go down his sweaty back and scoot closer, close enough to embrace him.
“It’s okay, I got you,” you assure him in a low voice, one hand sliding up his chest and neck – a pulsating vein in his neck tells you how fast his heart is beating – and landing on his cheek. So far, he’s been unresponsive to you but now his hand covers yours and he draws a deep breath, exhaling in a tired sigh. You sit so for a while, quiet in the dark, one of your arms around him and the hand of your other arm on his cheek, his hand over yours to keep it there. You can feel his heart slow down and start to move in rhythm with yours.
"I got you," you tell him again and press a kiss to his shoulder, when he lowers his face to yours and covers your mouth with his. The kiss is desperate, rough. He moves his hand away from yours, leaving it feeling strangely cold, and pushes you down on your back, following immediately so that the kiss doesn’t break. He cups one of your breasts with his big hand and it makes sparks run down your spine. It’s two in the morning and you’re tired, you have work in the morning, as does he. But you know so well that he needs this, that it makes him feel better, grounds him in the here and now. And his kissing and groping, enthusiastic if a little clumsy, does make your body react whether you want it to or not. You slide your hands over his chest and shoulders, pinching a nipple here and pressing your nails into skin there, while kissing him back. His mouth and lips are dry and have the beginnings of morning breath, but that doesn’t bother you. What bothers you is his pain, and that you can help him with.
Frankie breaks the kiss for a moment to pull down your top and kiss your exposed breasts, biting and sucking your nipples while sliding his hand inside your pj pants. Quite unceremoniously, he fingers you – less to give you pleasure and more to just check how wet you are – and then rubs your clit quickly before pulling down your pants. You lifts your ass and help kick the pants off, now more horny than you ought to be at two in the morning. He has that effect on you.
You help him to get rid of his boxer briefs – not that he needs much help, urgent that he is – and reach for him, bringing him in for more kissing as he slides into you. Groaning, you puts your hands on his lower back, asking him with no words to stay still for a moment. Frankie complies despite his obvious hurry, his lips on your jawline, his breath hot and fast. Having adjusted to him, you move your pelvis to signal to him to continue, and he begins to fuck you steadily and thoroughly. He locks one of your arms above your head with a firm grip of your wrist, but after a few moments his hold softens and he slips his palm over yours and intertwines your fingers. You squeeze his hand and turn your face to kiss his head when he buries his face in your neck. He’s not communicative like he usually is, asking you how you are, telling you how good you feel. This is about him, not you, and it’s okay, it’s fast and it’s dirty and you like it. Your gasping breaths mingle with his as he nails you to the mattress, and despite the minimal foreplay your nerve endings begin to gather and prepare. You whimper something encouraging to Frankie and he growls, going faster, harder. You know from how he moves and sounds that he’s close now and you just hope he’s able to go for it long enough for you to climax as well.
He does, but your orgasm is not of the explosive kind that turns you inside out and leaves you almost unconscious with the intensity of it. It’s just a warm, fuzzy feeling that fills you and makes you sufficiently relaxed. Frankie, however, is filling you up with his cum and muttering all kinds of filthy things in your ear, so you go with the flow and throw your head back, moan loudly and thrust your hips up as if ravaged by a thunderous climax. Frankie places a breathless kiss on your neck and rolls off of you, planting his broad back firmly to the mattress beside you. After having caught your breath, you scoot next to him and throw one arm over his chest.
“Feeling better?” you whisper, already overcome by sleep.
“I’m good.”
You don’t reply; you’re out like a light.
***
“You faked.”
You don’t look away from the bathroom mirror but continue to apply eyeshadow with minute strokes of the brush. Frankie stands in the doorway to the bathroom and you can see in the corner of your eye that he’s looking dark and brooding.
“What's that, baby?”
“You faked your orgasm last night.”
Dammit. You had hoped he wouldn't notice or remember your little cover-up.
“I didn’t,” you try to smooth things over. “Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know. To make me feel better?”
“You think I care about your ego at two in the morning? I didn’t fake it, Frankie.”
“I don’t need pity sex and I don’t need you to fake orgasms when you don’t even want sex.”
He sounds angry, which is uncommon for him. You put down the brush and turn to him, perplexed. Whenever you fight - which you don't do often but it does happen - it's always you who start it. He usually tries to defuse the situation and talk it out.
He has dark bags under his eyes and a deep line between his eyebrows. You look the same but at least you can cover it up with makeup. The last thing you want is to fight at seven in the morning, but the lack of sleep makes your blood start to boil.
“Is that what you think that was? Pity sex?” you bite. “You honestly think I would let you fuck me if I didn’t want to? You don’t know me very well, do you?”
“Well enough to know that me waking you up with my nightmares doesn't exactly make you horny."
“Why are you mad at me for agreeing to sex?” You sigh and turn back towards the mirror, picking up the eyeliner. “I agreed, we fucked, we both came. I don’t understand what you’re so upset about.”
You lean over the sink to get closer to the mirror and start to line your eyes with black, hand steady and gaze focused. Not only sleep-deprived, you're also annoyed at him and even more furious at yourself. Of course you can see what’s bothering him: he’s feeling bad about waking you up in the middle of the night and fucking you. He is, after all, a good guy, one of the few. He usually keeps things to himself but when he’s vulnerable, his sensitivity bleeds all over the place. You just don't know how to handle it at the moment.
“You don’t think I know what it feels like to be inside you when you have an orgasm?” Frankie insists and for a second, you don't know whether to slap him for not letting go of the matter, or yourself for not understanding that of course he’d know that. There are few things about your body Frankie doesn’t know, especially when it comes to sex.
“Okay,” you admit, putting the eyeliner down and turning to him again. He looks more forlorn than angry now, hovering in the doorway. His bed hair doesn't help in making him look imposing. You have to smile a little as you close the small distance between him and you. Taking his hand between yours, you place a gentle kiss on his knuckles and look into his brown eyes that right now are dark and velvety. You see clearly what bothers him: he's disappointed in himself for his lack of control, and annoyed with you for not being honest.
“I exaggerated,” you confess softly. “I did cum, but I didn’t want you to feel bad so I overdid it slightly.”
Frankie stares intently at you, his jaw tense, before sighing deeply.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he finally says, his voice soft. “Least you could do when I wake you up with my bullshit and fuck you without checking if you’re okay with it is make me feel bad about it.”
“Baby, there's nothing for you to feel bad about," you try to convince him. "Was I passive? Was I dry? I seem to remember being none of those things. If I hadn't wanted sex, I’d have told you. You know that, right?”
Frankie looks conflicted. You can smell the frustration on him, sharp and metallic. He's still mad at himself. It makes you feel frustrated as well because you did enjoy the sex. It was... different. Frankie is usually such a selfless lover, always making sure all your needs are covered. It was exciting to have him just take what he needed - and even then, he did make sure you were wet, he didn't skip the foreplay completely.
“I’m sorry,” you say earnestly, releasing his hand and putting your hands on his shoulders instead, hoping the physical contact will ease his mind. “I guess I didn’t think it was such a big deal. I didn’t mean for it to be such a big deal.”
You realize you've said the wrong thing; Frankie looks at you like he's about to start crying. God DAMN it.
“It is a big deal to me," he tells you in a low voice. "If I can't satisfy you, just be honest about it."
"You did satisfy me - " you begin, but he cuts you off with a finger over your lips.
"You don't need to overdo it. You don't need to fake it. I know you can be horny and still not be able to cum and if that happens, just tell me there ain’t gonna be no fireworks."
You nod. It was a stupid thing to do, you know that, but you got caught up in the moment and wanted to make him feel good. You're willing to give him that.
"Okay, baby. I promise, I'm not doing it again."
Still, you're not letting him off the hook.
"And will you stop beating yourself up about the whole incident?" you ask him softly, cupping his cheek, enjoying the feel of his beard against your palm. "You didn't force yourself on me, Frankie."
He hesitates for a second, then makes a gesture with his head that could be interpreted as a nod.
"What was that?" you smile, your fingers wandering to his ear and tweaking the lobe playfully. "That was not a yes."
"Okay. Yes." He returns your smile and you stand on tiptoe to reach his lips. His breath is fresh and tastes of mouthwash with a hint of coffee lingering at the back of his tongue.
"I can't stand the thought of hurting you," he mumbles into your mouth.
"I know you wouldn't hurt me."
Slowly, Frankie’s arms are wrapped around you in a soft embrace that turns rough when, without warning, you find yourself jammed between Frankie and the doorpost.
“No time,” you manage to tell him between the kisses. “Frankie, I’m gonna be late.”
“I know. Don’t care. You fake it, you take it.”
“You just made that up.”
“Damn straight I did.”
He lifts you up and takes you to bed, where your half-hearted protests cease the minute he pulls up your skirt, pulls down your panties and starts to, very confidently, eat you out. And this time, there’s no mistaking the intensity of your orgasm.
#my fic#triple frontier#francisco catfish morales#francisco frankie morales#frankie morales x you#pedro pascal characters
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I decided to take the personality tests for some Black Clover characters to see what they get, here are the results!
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⚖️🔹Marx: Logistician ISTJ-T (Practical and fact-minded individuals, who’s reliability cannot be doubted)🔹⚖️
“My observation is that whenever one person is found adequate to the discharge of a duty... it is worse executed by two persons, and scarcely done at all if three or more are employed therein.”
Logisticians don’t make many assumptions, preferring instead to analyze their surroundings, check their facts and arrive at practical courses of action. Logistician personalities are no-nonsense, and when they’ve made a decision, they will relay the facts necessary to achieve their goal, expecting others to grasp the situation immediately and take action. Logisticians have little tolerance for indecisiveness, but lose patience even more quickly if their chosen course is challenged with impractical theories, especially if they ignore key details – if challenges becomes time-consuming debates, Logisticians can become noticeably angry as deadlines tick nearer.
Logisticians have sharp, fact-based minds, and prefer autonomy and self-sufficiency to reliance on someone or something. Dependency on others is often seen by Logisticians as a weakness, and their passion for duty, dependability and impeccable personal integrity forbid falling into such a trap. When Logisticians say they are going to get something done, they do it, meeting their obligations no matter the personal cost, and they are baffled by people who don’t hold their own word in the same respect. Combining laziness and dishonesty is the quickest way to get on Logisticians’ bad side. Consequently, people with the Logistician personality type often prefer to work alone, or at least have their authority clearly established by hierarchy, where they can set and achieve their goals without debate or worry over other’s reliability.
Their defining characteristics of integrity, practical logic and tireless dedication to duty make Logisticians a vital core to many families, as well as organizations that uphold traditions, rules and standards, such as law offices, regulatory bodies and military. People with the Logistician personality type enjoy taking responsibility for their actions, and take pride in the work they do – when working towards a goal, Logisticians hold back none of their time and energy completing each relevant task with accuracy and patience.
Logisticians need to remember to take care of themselves – their stubborn dedication to stability and efficiency can compromise those goals in the long term as others lean ever-harder on them, creating an emotional strain that can go unexpressed for years, only finally coming out after it’s too late to fix. If they can find coworkers and spouses who genuinely appreciate and complement their qualities, who enjoy the brightness, clarity and dependability that they offer, Logisticians will find that their stabilizing role is a tremendously satisfying one, knowing that they are part of a system that works.
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👑🟡Julius: ENFP-A Campaigner (Enthusiastic, creative and sociable free spirits, who can always find a reason to smile.) 🟡👑
“It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for – and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.”
Campaigners are true free spirits – outgoing, openhearted, and open-minded. With their lively, upbeat approach to life, they stand out in any crowd. But even though they can be the life of the party, Campaigners don’t just care about having a good time. These personality types run deep – as does their longing for meaningful, emotional connections with other people.
Even in moments of fun, Campaigners want to connect emotionally with others. Few things matter more to these personality types than having genuine, heartfelt conversations with the people they cherish. Campaigners believe that everyone deserves to express their feelings, and their empathy and warmth create spaces where even the most timid spirits can feel comfortable opening up.
Friendly and outgoing, Campaigners are devoted to enriching their relationships and their social lives. But beneath their sociable, easygoing exteriors, they have rich, vibrant inner lives as well. Without a healthy dose of imagination, creativity, and curiosity, a Campaigner simply wouldn’t be a Campaigner. In their unique way, Campaigners can be quite introspective. They can’t help but ponder the deeper meaning and significance of life – even when they should be paying attention to something else. These personalities believe that everything – and everyone – is connected, and they live for the glimmers of insight that they can gain into these connections.
When something sparks their imagination, Campaigners can show an enthusiasm that is nothing short of infectious. These personalities radiate a positive energy that draws in other people, and Campaigners may find themselves being held up by their peers as a leader or guru. But once the initial bloom of inspiration wears off, Campaigners can struggle with self-discipline and consistency, losing steam on projects
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🌱⚪️William: Advocate INFJ-T (Quiet and mystical, yet very inspiring and tireless idealists.)⚪️🌱
“Treat people as if they were what they ought to be and you help them to become what they are capable of being.”
Advocates’ unique combination of personality traits makes them complex and quite versatile. For example, Advocates can speak with great passion and conviction, especially when standing up for their ideals. At other times, however, they may choose to be soft-spoken and understated, preferring to keep the peace rather than challenge others.
Advocates might find themselves feeling especially stressed in the face of conflict and criticism. These personalities tend to act with the best of intentions, and it can frustrate them when others don’t appreciate this. At times, even constructive criticism may feel deeply personal or hurtful to Advocates.
Advocates may be reserved, but they communicate in a way that is warm and sensitive. This emotional honesty and insight can make a powerful impression on the people around them. Advocates value deep, authentic relationships with others, and they tend to take great care with other people’s feelings. That said, these personalities also need to prioritize reconnecting with themselves. Advocates need to take some time alone now and then to decompress, recharge, and process their thoughts and feelings.
Advocates may see helping others as their purpose in life. They are troubled by injustice, and they typically care more about altruism than personal gain. As a result, Advocates tend to step in when they see someone facing unfairness or hardship. Many people with this personality type also aspire to fix society’s deeper problems, in the hope that unfairness and hardship can become things of the past.
Many Advocates feel compelled to find a mission for their lives. When they encounter inequity or unfairness, they tend to think, “How can I fix this?” They are well-suited to support a movement to right a wrong, no matter how big or small. Advocates just need to remember that while they’re busy taking care of the world, they need to take care of themselves too.
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🍺⚫️Yami: Entrepreneur ESTP-A (Smart, enthusiastic and very perceptive people, who truly enjoy living on the edge.)⚫️🍺
“Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.”
Entrepreneurs are the likeliest personality type to make a lifestyle of risky behavior. They live in the moment and dive into the action – they are the eye of the storm. They are forced to make critical decisions based on factual, immediate reality in a process of rapid-fire rational stimulus response. This makes school and other highly organized environments a challenge for Entrepreneurs. It certainly isn’t because they aren’t smart, and they can do well, but the regimented, lecturing approach of formal education is just so far from the hands-on learning that Entrepreneurs enjoy. It takes a great deal of maturity to see this process as a necessary means to an end, something that creates more exciting opportunities.
Also challenging is that to Entrepreneurs, it makes more sense to use their own moral compass than someone else’s. Rules were made to be broken. This is a sentiment few high school instructors or corporate supervisors are likely to share, and can earn Entrepreneur personalities a certain reputation. But if they minimize the trouble-making, harness their energy, and focus through the boring stuff, Entrepreneurs are a force to be reckoned with.
With perhaps the most perceptive, unfiltered view of any type, Entrepreneurs have a unique skill in noticing small changes. Whether a shift in facial expression, a new clothing style, or a broken habit, people with this personality type pick up on hidden thoughts and motives where most types would be lucky to pick up anything specific at all. Entrepreneurs use these observations immediately, calling out the change and asking questions, often with little regard for sensitivity. Entrepreneurs should remember that not everyone wants their secrets and decisions broadcast.
Entrepreneurs are full of passion and energy, complemented by a rational, if sometimes distracted, mind. Inspiring, convincing and colorful, they are natural group leaders, pulling everyone along the path less traveled, bringing life and excitement everywhere they go. Putting these qualities to a constructive and rewarding end is Entrepreneurs’ true challenge.
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If you want to read more about their personality types, or other personality types- the website is 16personalities.com ! I find it very amazing at how accurate these are!
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I want to start by saying that I am a Dean-coded Dean Girl through and through, and this post pains me to write. But after sitting through the character assassination that is season 8 and the few aggravating choices that start out season 9, I need to get some shit off my chest about THEE Dean Winchester.
I can’t stand this scene. This interaction. One of my biggest complaints about season 8, which I touched on a bit in my very first post about the season, was Dean’s noticeable lack of empathy. He gets out of Purgatory cold, distant, and with zero patience for anyone who is not himself or Benny. And I don’t just mean Sam, who he is decidedly foul towards, but towards Cas and Kevin and Garth, too. While I can absolutely make allowances for some of his behavior (a lot of it, even), the fact the season never encourages Dean (or viewers) to think critically about how he behaves is such a huge failing. And the fact that fans of season 8 believe this is Dean at his most pure, Dean at his most himself...while simultaneously reveling in Castiel’s deathbed assertion that Dean is not in fact a blunt instrument, but someone deeply motivated by love, absolutely boggles my mind. Because throughout season 8, that is how Dean operates: as a blunt instrument. He lacks nuance, care, and consideration, and while this is largely (in my opinion) the result of his traumatic time in Purgatory, Dean is never tasked with coming to terms with what he experienced, nor held accountable for the way his experiences informed his poor treatment of others.
Kevin, in particular, was shown minimal concern by either brother, but especially not by Dean. Dean talked to Kevin like John likely talked to Dean, and while we are often quick to condemn John for his treatment of his children, I feel it’s equally necessary to level those condemnations at Dean too, because we know what Dean is capable of. We know, especially us Dean Girls, the love that blooms in Dean’s heart, and so seeing his actions and emotional state in season 8 is incredibly difficult to watch. Finding myself repeatedly angry at Dean, disappointed in the things he says and does to others, was not a fun a time.
And I bring this up because, while Dean does soften some once Cas returns (though not entirely by a long shot) we still see clear evidence of the extent Purgatory robbed him of his empathy, again, notably when it comes to Kevin. And this clearly carries over to this scene in the second episode of season 9.
At first glance, this scene seems sweet. The music wants you to think so, too, starting to play a soft little orchestral number that’s meant to undercut Dean’s apparent sincerity as he tells Kevin he and Sam don’t just need him because he’s useful (even though in season 8 the brothers kept Kevin in deplorable conditions--after he was tortured by Crowley even--in isolation without much apparent care, despite discovering they had a perfectly comfortable and impenetrable bunker they could have moved Kevin to fairly early on in the season, in addition to minimizing his concerns about his mother and Crowley’s influence in his head, and Dean giving him drugs to work faster and harder despite the threat to his health, all in service of being more useful) but because he’s family. As if Dean wouldn’t tear through earth, Heaven, and Hell himself to get Mary back if he thought she was being tortured by demons, leading no real life at all, as he tells Kevin in the above scene when he says he wants to leave to find his mother.
“You, me, Sam, and Cas--we’re all we’ve got,” Dean insists, as if he isn’t currently lying his ass off to Sam--despite this being the number one sin he levels at him in season 8 while possessed by the specter--and as if he isn’t about to kick a defenseless Castiel out of the bunker in the following episode to maintain his lies to Sam. As if Dean’s efforts to uphold his charade don’t lead to the series of choices that get Kevin himself killed later on in the season.
Dean may believe, in his own fucked up way, that Kevin is indeed part of his family. That the time they’ve spent together in service of the greater good has bonded them in a way that can only be defined in Dean’s mind in terms of family. And with Dean’s awful childhood and John’s terrible parenting, I could see how he might come to have certain ideas about family and what it means to apply that label that aren’t the most warm and fuzzy. But I also believe wholeheartedly that Dean levels that intimacy at Kevin to manipulate him into staying, and I say this because of how Dean ends the conversation:
This is an incredibly manipulative thing to say, and I think Dean full well knows it. That he’s taking Kevin on a classic guilt trip. Tell me you can’t imagine John saying the same kind of thing when Sam left for Stanford. Tell me you can’t imagine him telling Sam that they are family and they need each other because family is all we have. Tell me John wouldn’t say, “But, hey! If none of that matters to you, then walk right out that door and don’t you dare come back.” Just because Dean says it softly, with disappointment rather than anger, doesn’t make the words any less devastating. Any less influential. And it works, because Kevin doesn’t leave to look for his mother; he turns back around to ostensibly get back translating the angel tablet. Which Dean and Sam need him to do.
Kevin has suffered immensely, and yes. Everyone on this show has. But the point I’m ultimately trying to make is how upsetting and frustrating I find it as a dedicated devotee to all things Dean to see him be so callous with others when he knows firsthand how that kind of treatment feels. How that kind of harshness stays with you, becomes something you carry on. Especially for someone like Kevin, who does not hold Dean’s threshold for pain of any kind, physical or emotional. I mean, can you imagine Dean talking this way to Charlie? To Claire? Both of whom walked into hunting with eyes wide open? Which is maybe a conversation to hold another time around how Dean protects the women in his life more than he protects the men (Because honestly, I can’t see him talking to Jody or Donna this way, either), but for the sake of this post and this episode...I just need it said that Dean is not at his best. And that is very, very hard for me to watch.
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Anon asked: Overhaul from mha with a insecure chubby s/o! It’s ok if you haven’t seen him or aren’t comfortable with him! I understand!
Gotcha anon! I’m not gonna lie, I’m a simp for this man (along with so many others) I’m good with writing him! I just hope I do him justice is all! Enjoy!
Trigger Warning: Mentions of insecurities and some rude ass comments from a loved one. It might trigger those affected by this. Please be warned.
Also side note, this is another long one ya’ll! Like I couldn’t stop writing. I’m sorry if you guys don’t like these long headcanons, but I just couldn’t stop and I hope I did this charcter justice with these! <3
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When he first met you, he honestly didn’t care about you, you were just another pawn in his plan and it was that way for a while.
At the start of your relationship, whenever you brought your insecurities up, he would just ignore you.
“Your insecurities mean nothing to me, there’s other things to worry about in this filthy world”
The more time he spends with you, the more he warms up to you.
It makes him very standoffish at first, he’ll insult you and poke at you and your insecurities in hopes of waving off these weird feelings.
“Instead of complaining, do something about it (Y/N).”
“Every time I see you, you’re eating, maybe you wouldn’t be so big if you put down the fork.”
Not going to lie, he’s going to be an even bigger dick as he tries to figure out his feelings.
“Maybe I should’ve found someone else that fits my standards.”
He wouldn’t hold you at night in your shared bed anymore the more he tries to push you away.
“Why would I want to hold someone so unappealing? I have a reputation to uphold, or did you forget (Y/N)?”
Your only solace during that time is Eri. You know the poor girl has been through hell and back and you know you can’t do much, but you can give her that love and support she craves.
When Kai spews those hurtful words, instead of crying as you would, you spent time with Eri.
She brought you comfort when all Chisaki brought you was a crushed soul.
Reading, playing dress up, cooking and just having Eri around brightened you up so much and helped you with your insecurities.
“(Y/N), can we bake cookies today? I like them, they’re yummy!”
“Can I hear the story about the Princess and the Frog? I love the way you tell it, it’s so funny!”
Chisaki notices your improvement in your mood...he’s noticed for a while actually.
You haven’t had a conversation or really looked at him in months and if he was honest with himself...he missed you.
Missed your touch, your laugh, the softness you had and the warmth you emitted. He honestly thought pushing you away was the best option, but in the end it only hurt him and you more.
He took time to come to terms that he loved you...deeply. You no longer were a pawn on a chess board like everyone else, no, you were his Queen and he realized how much he fucked up.
Of course he noticed you coddling Eri more and caring for her more than before. The way you interacted with the child and how much you smiled around her brought a dull throb to his chest.
One night when you both were in your shared bed, turned away from each other as was the usual he decided to finally talk to you and get everything else out in the open.
Turning around, his eyes landed on your back, head laid on the pillow and not moving giving the illusion of you sleeping, but he knew better. You were still awake.
Placing a hand on your protruding hip, the warmth you radiated brought him a sense of comfort.
“(Y/N)...can we talk?” His gruff voice whispered against your ear, his hand caressing up and down your exposed side.
“What is it Kai?” Your monotone voice wasn’t what made him pause his soft touches, it was the use of his name. You usually called him a pet name or at least, ‘Chis-kun’.
Hearing you just call him Kai was another blow. He had to fix this otherwise he feared he was going to lose you for good.
Gripping your supple hip, a quiet gasp escaped your lips, head turning to look back at him.
Sitting up, he quickly gripped both of your hips and flipped you over so you were settled on his lap, large hands grasping your softness, thumbs rubbing soft circles into your soft flesh.
“Let me go Kai,” You struggled against his strong hold not particularly liking your current position. You were not ready for more verbal assaults from him about your insecurities.
“I miss those pet names...your laugh...(Y/N)...I miss you.”
Your struggles stopped as you stared down at him, his unmasked face settled in an unreadable expression, but his eyes...were sad. In all of your time knowing this man, you’ve never seen his eyes this crestfallen before.
Kai showing emotion was something you never expected, even going into a relationship, but now they were clear as day to you.
“What?” You opened and closed your mouth a few times, still trying to grasp this whole situation. “What happened to you?”
It was a valid question, a bit insensitive, sure, but given the names and shit he’s said to you, this was minimal.
“I felt something I haven't felt before with you and I thought ignoring you and pushing you away would make me feel better...foolish on my part really, it made me crave you more (Y/N).”
Large hands skimmed down your bare legs sending shivers up your spine. His words made your face flush at how genuine they were. You knew when Kai was lying and in this instance, he wasn’t.
“I’m...I’m sorry for those things I said to you, the moments where I was supposed to comfort you, I belittled you, I’ll try harder to be a better lover if you’ll give me another chance.”
His hands were still rubbing up and down your chunky legs as he said those words. Holding you close to him like this probably brought him comfort as he tried to tell you his feelings, something he wasn’t used to.
Cupping his cheek, his eyes softened, something you weren’t used to, but a gesture you would love to see more of in the future.
“You were awful, worse than any of my own insecurities honestly and Eri was the only thing that lifted my spirits and made me feel happy all these months...it’s going to take time to build up that trust we had. Those words cut so deep, I understand trying to figure out feelings, but hun...there’s better ways to figure out your feelings without hurting those around you.”
Lifting a hand from one of your legs, Chisaki cupped your soft cheek, thumb caressing your soft jawline. It was nice to see this different side of Chisaki, being open and vulnarable with you and telling you about how he felt was new territory for your relationship and it made you happy to know he was trying and letting you in, even just a little bit.
“I know that now (Y/N), please give me another chance, I love you, you are the only person to see me like this,” His hand on your cheek slid around to the back of your neck, pulling you down to him, lips inches apart. You shuddered at the sensation of being so close to him again. “I love everything about you and I know I haven't told you that, let me show you everything I love about you and this body of yours and I’ll show you and tell you everyday just how beautiful you are, to hell with those insecurities of yours.”
You felt your eyes grow wet, the sinsirety of his words hitting you deep. Without another thought, you pressed your lips aginst his, chubby hands sliding around to the back of his head, fingers tangling themselves into his soft black locks as the kiss grew heated.
Rolling the both of you over, Kai was on top of you, hands and feet moving position so he was above you, caging you on the bed.
“Seeing you flushed and gasping for air makes me want to take you, mark you as mine for all to see.”
Biting your lip, more heat rose to your round cheeks. “Then do it Chis-Kun,” Moving your head to the side, you exposed more of your neck, his favorite place to mark you when he does. “Mark me all you want.”
Without a second thought, he dove into your neck, mouth latching onto the soft, plush skin of your neck and started sucking marks onto your delicate skin.
After that night which ended with both you and Chis-Kun tangled in the bedsheets, marks littering both of your bodies and content expressions on both of your faces, he held true to his words.
Whenever your insecurities got the best of you, he was there to reassure you, tell you how wonderful you were and to listen to him and not those negative voices.
He’d hold you if you were having a bad image day and no matter what he had to do that day, it was moved because you were his priority.
When you were with Eri, taking care of her, he’d show up and iinteract with both of you, of course, he wouldn’t show too much affection since Eri was there, but seeing you take care of the young girl makes him yearn to have kids of his own with you.
Talks to you more about emotions and what he’s feeling. Does still get frustrated when he can’t find the right words and will either storm off, or not talk to you for a while.
Will come back with a clear mind and try again with what he was trying to say. Usually when he comes to bed and finds comfort in your warmth.
#q#que#headcanons#mha headcanons#my hero academia#bnha headcanons#boku no hero headcanons#boku no hero academia#xchubbyreader#x chubby reader#!chubby reader#chubby reader#insecure reader#chubby headcanons#chubby reader headcanons#SFW#NSFW-ish#bnha chisaki#kai chisaki#kai chisaki headcanons
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The Rights Of A Nindroid
Chapter Twenty-Six
(Previous Chapter Here)
Yeah okay this took forever,,,, have fun with it! (;
Also it was too long for one post again so I’ll reblog this with the rest-
Cryptor struggles to find the solution to the latest puzzle they gave him, doing his best not to let frustration show on his face as he ignores Kyle and Martha talking in the background.
He hates this. He just… he wishes that there was some way out, some way to be free, some way to be okay again.
But there’s not. He’s stuck here, and there’s nothing he can do about it.
He feels tired. So tired. Nothing even seems to make sense anymore, so his only real choice is to just… keep going. Even if the only way he can do that is to follow their orders.
Exhausted, he takes a moment’s pause from the puzzle, absent-mindedly listening in on part of the conversation going on behind him.
Martha is the one speaking. “- and when Sentry is here, we’ll be able to-“
Hold on. Did he just hear what he thinks he did? Did she just- Sentry? She’s going to bring Sentry here?!
He whips around, turning to face them. “What did you just say?!” He demands, ignoring the voice screaming at him to just do what he’s told. He can’t sit there and do nothing, not while his friend is on the line!
Kyle seems to wince some, but Martha glares. “It’s nothing you need to be concerned with, General.” She snaps. “Do not speak out of turn again, and go back to your task.”
He completely disregards the order, only staring at the two of them. They- they’re going to bring him here?! No, no, Cryptor’s been behaving, he’s been following orders, why would they-
“General, calm down.” Kyle interrupts his train of thought. “You knew it would come to this eventually, right?”
Cryptor can only stare in sheer horror as he struggles to come to terms with the implications of what they’re saying. “I- no. No, I didn’t- I-“ He abruptly stands up, pushing the small bench he’s on backwards as the metal screeches, but he ignores the loud sound, barely even able to hear it over his racing thoughts.
“No!” He shakes his head rapidly, struggling to figure out what to say. “You- you can’t-“
“Sit down, General.” Martha orders, her expression one of annoyance.
Fear and anger take over him, leaving him trembling. “You can’t hurt him!” He shouts, trying to come up with something, anything he could do to stop this.
“General! There's nothing you can do about it!” Kyle snaps, an aura of almost unease around him. “Calm down or you'll get hurt yourself!”
Okay, there’s something going on here, usually he doesn’t get so many warnings, why would-
Oh, who cares about what’s going on with that?! Sentry is at stake here!
His words showcase his fear and anger, his voice trembling as he snarls the words out. “I- I can’t just sit here and follow orders when- when you’re going to-“
Martha’s voice is dark as she narrows her eyes at him. “That’s enough, General.” There’s a clear threat to her tone, and just that is enough to make him start shaking…
For a few moments, all he can do is stand there, fighting against the urge to cave, to do what she says, to hopefully avoid punishment-
It’s a struggle, but he manages to hold his ground. “No.” He gets out, making himself hold her gaze. “No, I can’t. It’s not.”
He forces the words out even as he feels his power source kicking into overdrive- he’d rather have it ripped out than let them do what they’ve done to him to the innocent nindroid back at Borg Tower.
Shifting on his feet, Kyle seems to want to say something- but after a moment, he minutely shakes his head, looking over at Martha- likely for instructions.
Every gear and wire inside him feels abuzz with the mechanical equivalent of adrenaline, but he can’t think of what to do or say. His mind is running so fast that he can’t catch up, leaving him only able to stand and stare as the fear floods through him.
“Take it to the training room.” Martha turns to some guards as she speaks, still seeming annoyed. “It appears it needs to relearn an old lesson.”
The words send their own kind of fear through him, the thought of a punishment leaving him shaking even more. But he does his best to shove the feeling down, letting himself be escorted back to the training room and tied down once again.
There still seems to be something off about the blond as he dismisses the guards, but in all honesty, he doesn’t have enough processing power to even try and think about what it might mean.
Kyle sighs, but it doesn’t seem to be out of annoyance. “Okay, use the usual method. Just shocks for an hour.”
Wait- what? That’s it? Well, he- he doesn’t want to be punished more, but usually he gets in more trouble for this kind of thing.
He starts to voice his confusion out loud, but the shock he gets serves as a reality check, reminding him of his situation.
He’s not allowed to speak unless spoken to.
There’s silence, for a while. Which is surprising in its own way- Kyle usually gives him a lecture about what he did wrong while he’s being punished, but this time he’s… oddly quiet.
After all this time, you’d think that Cryptor would have grown numb to the pain. With everything he’s gone through, some shocks are hardly the worst thing in the world.
But somehow, he never seems to be able to quite adjust to it. Every blast of pain is just as bad as the one before it- and sometimes worse, when they start accumulating.
Breathing deeply, he looks down at the floor, struggling to hide how much it hurts. It’s- it’s not really real, anyway. It’s just… just a digital reaction designed to warn him that his circuits might be in danger. But he’s not in any real life-threatening danger, so all it does is-
A particularly painful shock jolts him from his train of thought, and he grinds his teeth as he struggles to push the pain from his mind.
In all honesty, he’s lucky that he’s had the life he did. With all the abuse he suffered from before the facility, he had actually gotten the chance to learn how to cope with this kind of thing.
But Sentry, on the other hand…
No. No, he can’t think about that. He can’t- there’s nothing he can do at the moment, he just needs to keep breathing, needs to not think about it, needs to not imagine what Sentry’s screams would sound like, needs to not picture the way he would curl in on himself as he struggled to cope, needs to not even consider what he might look like after going through even half of what he and Zane had-
He’s pulled from his downward spiral by Kyle, the blond suddenly speaking- and loudly, at that.
“OKAY! Okay, that's enough! An hour is way too long for that small of a mistake, I- Stop!”
When the shocks die down, Cryptor still can’t figure out what’s going on. Something is going on here, but Cryptor honestly doesn’t have the energy to piece together what.
He knows that he’s shaking like a leaf, and it makes his gut churn thinking about how damn weak he is, but he doesn’t dare lift his gaze.
It takes a moment for him to remember what he’s supposed to do. Right, they finished a punishment, he- he needs to confirm that he learned from it.
“ ‘m sorry, Master.”
The words are choked out and pathetic, and just hearing his own voice like that makes him want to cringe.
For some reason, Kyle seems to look uncomfortable, almost regretful in a way. “It's okay, it's- here. Let me-“
He trails off in favor of taking off Cryptor’s restraints- and after he does, he turns away, looking at the far wall.
For a second, the door tempts him. No one is watching, it would be so easy to-
No. No, he can’t do that. He has to stay, to follow orders. He gets hurt if he doesn’t follow orders. And while this punishment wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, that just means that the next one will probably be worse.
A hand comes to clutch at where one of the chains had been pulled a little bit too tight- with the shocks, he actually hadn’t even noticed the way they were digging into his plating until now.
Once again, he remembers what he’s supposed to do. Kyle let him go- and early, at that. He’s supposed to acknowledge that.
There’s no pride left for him to ignore as he speaks. “Th- thank you, Master.”
Kyle doesn’t react, looking almost lost in thought. He brings a hand up to his face, and if Cryptor didn’t know any better, he’d say the blond was trembling.
Alright, something is definitely up here, but Cryptor isn’t going to risk getting punished again for asking. Whatever it is doesn’t seem to be causing any immediate harm, so he’d be better off leaving it alone.
With no orders or distractions, his mind begins to drift. And unfortunately, his stupid processer takes him back to Sentry.
He really, really doesn’t want him to get hurt, but no matter what he does, it won’t make a difference. They’ve proven time and time again that he’s too pathetic to stand a chance, and… it’s hopeless.
Well, he- he could try to, at the very least, minimize his suffering. There has to be something he can do for that, right?
He could try taking punishments for him, but they’d catch on pretty quick, and then they’d just start hurting Sentry to get to him more. He could do something worse after every mistake Sentry makes to make them put it in kind of perspective, but that would just prolong it.
He- he could… help them. Help them- help them break him. If Sentry’s not really there anymore, then he won’t be suffering. He-
A feeling of disgust wells up inside of him as he realizes what he was even considering. No, he can’t do that, he can’t do anything like that! He can’t help them do that to him, he- he just-
Cryptor forces himself to keep breathing, trying to get his shaking under control. He doesn’t want anything bad to happen to Sentry, but if push really does come to shove…
He’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it.
There’s an almost numb feeling spreading through him, but he’s thankfully given something else to focus on when he hears Kyle’s quiet murmur.
The blond’s voice is strained, even breaking a little as he talks. “...'m sorry, Gav…”
He seems to be trying to shove the feeling down as he clears his throat, and Cryptor could almost swear that he’s near tears.
“I'll t-take you back to your locker. You'll say you- you'll say you learned your lesson if anyone asks. This is a one-time thing, okay?” His eyes narrow as he finishes, but with how he looks, he’s hardly threatening.
The words he’s saying aren’t making any sense, but Cryptor isn’t going to turn down a break when it’s offered.
“Y- yes, Master,” he nods. The confusion is eating away at his processor, but he forces himself not to show it. If he does, he’ll be dragged right back into the training room.
Kyle starts to take him back to his locker, and Cryptor keeps his gaze on the floor as they walk, trying to keep his mind away from Sentry and what might happen to him.
He’s shaking, trembling, and he shouldn’t be- showing emotion this much isn’t a good idea, but for some reason, he’s still just being taken away from the training room.
Stepping inside the small cell, he still can’t wrench his mind away. All this time, all this sacrifice to protect Sentry…
“... all of this to protect you, and it didn’t make a difference…”
Crying.
It’s something he hated before. A sign of weakness, of something that could get in the way of a task.
But now?
Cryptor wishes he was allowed to cry.
The door is abruptly slammed shut in front of him, Kyle using much more force than necessary. There’s clearly something going on with the blond…
His confusion intensifies some, but in the end, does it really matter? Kyle was right. There is nothing he can do. Sentry is going to be brought here and broken whether he likes it or not.
He can only hope that he breaks before he has to watch the one he loves do the same.
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Cursed
*Loki x reader*
Parts: oneshot
Summary: After touching a cursed vase, Loki and you end up in a situation that requires for both of you to finally face your feelings.
Warnings: medieval love curse
Words: 3k
A.N.: This is my first story after a severe writer's block, so please be kind 💗✨
_______________________________
"I can't believe I touched that thing!" You groaned in utter frustration as you stormed into the Avengers' headquarters, throwing open the feeble glass doors as if they were made to be slammed by an angry Hulk. To hell with them, maybe they even were made for that!
Right on your heel, the sole cause of your current frustration: Loki. Your partner. Fellow avenger. Friend… the most frustrating being on the entire planet. On any planet, really. The man… god… person you couldn't get out of your head, even if you got your brains bashed out repeatedly in training. As of late he simply seemed to invade your every waking and dreaming thought, and it seemed to you as if suddenly the entire world only reverted around him – To him it probably did, anyway. Then again, maybe this peculiar development of things hadn't been so sudden at all, if you gave it a little thought.
When you'd first been paired up with this insufferable nuisance that was Loki, about four years ago, you had very much despised each other. More for the reason that neither of you actually wanted to work with (read: for) the Avengers than because of each other, and as soon as you'd discovered your mutual dislike for your coworkers, the fun had unraveled. After about a month, the two of you had accepted the fact that neither of you would get rid of the other any time soon. Half a year in, you'd both come to realize that the other wasn't half bad and actually the best possible option for an acquaintance in this odd group of self proclaimed heroes. A year and various almost-deaths later, you'd come to terms with the fact that you were friends. Sort of. Two years down the road, and you'd become practically inseparable. The very best of friends, and the tornment of every other resident in the headquarters. If only it had stayed at that...
Over the course of time, you had begun to see your idiot best friend as more and more of a necessity for your very existence. He made you like who you are, when you were with him, for the very first time in as long as you cared to remember. Without Loki, you felt like a part of you was missing. Like someone had stolen the sun and stars from your universe. Like you'd suffocate in the drowning darkness his absence left behind. And that's when it had started to get really complicated, really quickly.
Your missions required for both of you to strive towards your (or rather the Avengers') goal and reach your aims, no matter what. Casualties expected, and the death of either you or Loki a long accepted and maybe even appreciated collateral damage. That's how it was supposed to be, that's why they had paired you up. Both guilt ridden to your very demise, believed to be vain in any attempt to find forgiveness, you were expected to be happy to sacrifice each other (or anything really) to reach the very goal imposed on you without your will. Everyone thought forgiveness to be your highest aim, and they believed that they could abuse you both as long as they dangled a glimpse of that forgiveness in your faces at the end of the road. The flaw in that plan however lay at its very core: the longer you worked with Loki, the more your one and only aim was to keep him alive and by your side. You needed him, horribly so, and you'd gladly sacrifice your own life for his sake. Not that you doubted that he would do the same –he very likely would– but even if he may, it would be for utterly different reasons. The problem was, is, and probably will be till the end of you, that your friendly feelings had long turned into more. So much more, to an extend that you couldn't even fully grasp yet. Not with the brain anyway.
But you needed him. You needed his friendship. Hell, you even needed his partnership for work. And you couldn't risk any of that by whining about an unrequited love. He was ancient, brilliant, divine. You were… you. Not that you weren't quite the catch, you wouldn't downtalk yourself unnecessarily, but you knew that he viewed you as anything but a potential lover. And that was fine, really, you could handle the overwhelming amount of feelings that you'd locked up some place deep within you. Most of the time.
"Will you stop running away from this conversation?!" Loki snapped as he followed you through the somehow still intact glass door and slammed it shut behind the two of you. It rattled like a thunderbolt in chilled air, shaking like the leaves moved in the storm. But it held up. "It's not like I did this on purpose and you damn well know it!" The intense glare in Loki's eyes made your blood sizzle once you turned around, but you didn't let that stop you from angrily grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. Maybe a sip of freezing liquid would somehow quench this roaring flame within you that had been ignited not so long ago. Of course it didn't, and that frustrated you even more.
"I'm not blaming you, Loki, but aren't you supposed to know about these things?!" You groaned and rolled your eyes as you leaned back against the counter. "Aren't you the magic man from another world?!"
"Too bad that blaming me is exactly what you're doing right now, darling." His voice dropped two octaves as he stepped up close, definitely invading your personal space, but he didn't seem to mind at all. "You know what happened last time we played this game, Y/n, and I assure you that this time around won't end in a pillow fight either."
Your heart made a painful leap that would've sufficed to break records, as his subtle scent invaded your senses. He often got up close with you, sure, but not this close. It felt very right and very wrong at once.
"Well, but if SOMEONE had checked for curses before I went around gathering those objects WITH MY BARE FREAKING HANDS, we wouldn't be in this situation now!!!" You snapped right back and glared up into his face, crossing your arms in front of your chest. His presence gave you goosebumps, and you felt in desperate need for some composure.
"In case you forgot, I also touched that cursed vase… and so did the redhead and the soldier." His response was way too calm, spoken in that dangerously collected manner only he could convey as actually threatening. He placed his hands on the counter on either side of you and his eyes grew inevitably darker as they dug souldeep into yours, and yet they harbored no hostility, no real anger. No, you didn't feel anger either. Not really.
"Loki…" Your voice came out hushed, a mere whisper that was laden with both urgency and desperation. "Ever since I touched that vase…"
"I know." His tone had turned from the threatening calm to the comforting one you could positively drown in. "I feel it as well. However the other's don't, so it's… it's between us."
You didn't know if he was talking about the raging wildfire in your chest that was slowly starting to become seriously painful, or about the truly maddening affection you felt for the god right in front of you, but you kind of hoped that it was neither.
"How do we make it stop?" You asked then, in the hopes that what he was feeling might indeed be the sooner rather than the latter. Not because you wished him pain, but because you hoped that he could take yours away.
"I… I don't know, Y/n." He sighed, at last averting his eyes from yours to look down at the minimal space between your bodies. There was something he was not telling you, but this wasn't the time to prod. The frown on his face told you just how deeply upset he truly was about the incident, and your heart squeezed almost painfully as you suddenly felt beyond sorry for yelling at him.
"This bloody curse!" He groaned and turned away from you, taking a step backwards before he started pacing back and forth through the kitchen right in front of you. "I should have known, I-I… I should've protected you like I was damn well supposed to!"
The more worked up he got, the more the fire in your own torso stirred and roared until you had to clench your teeth to keep quiet.
"I'm sorry." He stated almost desperately, and your eyebrows rose at the statement alone. Loki never apologized. For anything. "I'm truly sorry, Y/n. This curse… it's my fault that you're… that we're burning up on the inside, and I was supposed to know that this would happen!"
"It's not your fault, Loki. It's really not." You tried, but he lifted a single finger to silence you before you could continue in an instant.
"But IT IS!" He snapped at you as he turned on his heels to face you, immediately realizing what he had done and turning away again. "You don't understand this, Y/n." He spat in dismay or disgust, you couldn't tell in the uproaring anger that really was merely the curse's doing. Still, it surely felt real enough in the moment.
"You're right, I bloody well don't!" You yelled back, brought to the brink of tears by the overwhelming amount of emotions coursing through your body all at once. It was becoming too much to bear. "Enlighten me then! What's this curse? What's it do? And why for God's sake is ANY of this your fault?!"
"Because I love you, damnit!" He yelled back, the same pained frown on his face that just then vanished from yours. "It's a stupid sacrificial curse from the stupid middle ages of your stupid little planet! And it will kill us both… because of my own stupid feelings for you that I tried not to have in the first place. But I do have them. And I am sorry."
Your lips parted ever so slightly as your gaze locked with his, taking in the not-even-once-in-a-lifetime sight of Loki falling apart right in front of your very eyes. But not a single word would pass your lips, and your mind had fallen into a momentary catharsis.
Upon your silence, Loki's expression hardened and he looked away once more. "I didn't mean to tell you. I know you don't feel that way about me and I honestly wanted to spare us both the embarrassment of having you say it out loud." A broken laugh cut in between the words, and the goosebumps on your skin returned as he spoke on. "But I guess my pride doesn't matter anymore if we end up dead anyway."
"I… I don't understand…" You finally managed to say, pushing yourself away from the counter to take a certain step towards Loki. "How are we both affected by the curse, but not Natasha or Steve? They touched the vase as well… back at the carrier, before we knew it was cursed… how… " Your voice trailed off as you took another step closer to Loki, feeling like the flames in your chest were dragging you towards him rather painfully. He however started pacing again, the very second you came closer, lost deep in thought.
"Gods, Y/n, it's… complicated. Ancient magic is not something for humans to meddle with! And while this particular one only affects individuals with mutual feelings of deep love and adoration, it certainly does have a history with the sacrificial spells used in various rituals all over the galaxy. However rudimentary this one might be executed-"
"Loki…"
"-it still holds the single purpose to force the participants to succumb to the rituals will or they end up dead by-"
"Loki!" You almost shouted at him, stepping into his way and placing your hands on his shoulders. The physical contact seemed to burn your body alive, and yet it aided to soothe the flame inside you. He seemed to feel a similar sensation, as his word vomit ebbed down and he simply stared at you in irritation.
"What?" He sounded as exasperated as he looked.
"Did you even listen to yourself?" You asked with the tiniest upcurve of your lips.
"What kind of stupid question is that?!" Loki frowned down at you, like the idiot best friend you'd known for years, and you almost would've laughed if the pain in your body wasn't constantly growing.
"Go two sentences back and repeat what you said." You insisted, and Loki rolled his eyes in return, but decided to comply anyway. He always did what you asked of him, even if he would never admit to doing such thing, and your heartbeat was now officially through the roof.
"I will count this as your death wish then." He sighed in sarcasm and leaned into your touch so subtly that you assumed it was unintentional. "I said ancient magic is not to be meddled with. And that this spell only affects individuals with mutual… oh."
"Yeah, 'oh'..." You managed a half smile, while Loki looked like a deer caught in the headlights. An expression seen on him oh so rarely, yet one most adorable for sure. "I hadn't meant to ever tell you either." With that you took two steps backwards again, eyes not leaving his as he looked right through you, while your entire being protested against the physical separation. But you knew that he likely needed space, he always did when it came down to the important things. To the things that actually meant something to him.
"What are we going to do now?" You asked as you leaned back against the counter in feigned ease, hoping to give away as little of your pain as possible. There was no need for him to worry even more now.
Loki already looked like a million thoughts raced through his mind at once, and they very likely did just that. It wasn't unusual for you to see him without his guard up, but you still enjoyed the rawness of his being that he allowed himself to show around you only. But right now, you weren't all too fond of his dwelling in internal multitudes and more concerned with the problem at hand.
"Loki..." You pressed, frowning against a new wave of scorching pain. "Please, do the thinking later and the acting now. I need you here with me… I need you."
The frown fell off his face in an instant as his eyes focused back on you in a blink, and the brief flash of emotions you saw in them had your breath caught in your throat. With one single step he was right in front of you once more, so close that you could feel his shallow breathing on your skin and his warmth all over your body. In his eyes you found the same darkening, the same desperate intensity as before. The burn in your body grew less painful the closer Loki got, and you reluctantly reached out to the lapels of his coat to pull him closer to you. He did nothing to resist, and a few short second later you were pressed against the counter by his larger frame.
"Feels better already, does it not?" His low voice met your ears in a whisper as he leaned his head against the side of yours. "As it seems we both were quite wrong about the reciprocation of our feelings."
"And yet here we are, burning up from the inside until we die. How ironic…" You replied quietly, your voice less shaky than you felt. It hadn't been your intention to sound bitter, but the impending death really dimmed down your excitement about the entire situation.
"As things happen to be right now, we won't have to die after all, darling…" He mused, placing a small kiss onto your jaw that made your blood freeze underneath your scorching skin. The sensation was almost… relieving. Pleasant very much, even. "As it seems, we might just be alright." Another kiss, slow and tender, to your neck right over your pulse point. A shaky breath escaped your lips.
"How?" You asked, holding onto his shirt tightly as you bent your neck to give him more room, a small sigh escaping your lips without your consent.
"Keep making that noise and I'll show you right here." He replied quietly and his words made your skin crawl once more while he placed feathery kisses from your jaw to the corner of your mouth. "Say it, darling…"
"I love you." You breathed, in the utmost knowledge of what he was asking you for, while more and more of the pain vanished and was replaced by sincere happiness and adoration. "I have for a long time now… but I never believed you would feel the same."
For a short moment Loki halted, his lips almost touching yours as he caressed your cheek with the back of his fingers. Then his lips curled up into an honest smile. "My own love for you is an ever fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken. Never has been."
"Quoting Shakespeare, huh?" You smiled as well, reveling in the feeling of his own against your lips.
"He got all his best lines from me and you know it!" Loki's smile turned into a grin, moments before he picked you up off the ground and made for the glass doors. You didn't even try to protest, for you knew it would be in vain anyway. And honestly, you didn't want the pain to return to your body upon any physical separation from Loki either.
"What's next?" The curiosity in you finally won as you grinned up at him expectantly. Loki… partner, best friend, idiot, and at last, your love.
With that grin that promised both heaven and hell at once he looked down at you, before capturing your lips in a kiss that was barely enough to tease, to hint, to promise. "Now, darling, we undo this bloody curse."
______________________________
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before i start, thank you so much for doing what you do;this blog has given me good advice countless times and i really have to thank you for that.
my issues with my parents are that they don't take me seriously. i can literally go up to them and say: "mom/dad, i think i might be autistic or have ADHD (both would be quite likely) can i get that checked out" and list a bunch of examples why i think that and they'll just be "nah, that can't be, you don't seem like that at all" as of i didn't break my mind over it researching it and talking to people who have it to see if we've had similar experiences just to get some kind of reference as to why i feel the way i feel and why i struggle so much with things that so many other people find so easy.
but then, in the following weeks and months (after talking w them) they just randomly point out things about me that kinda annoy them, like me talking out of turn a LOT or me not looking at people or me having trouble focusing if there isn't also music and a movie going at the same time or mom saying that i seem hyperactive to her because i'm always moving my legs or pacing around or rubbing my hands or drumming on the table with pens. things like that (plus a lot more) were the exact things i was telling them about and they just put it off like it's nothing but as soon as it affects and annoys them it's suddenly very real. at this point i'm struggling to talk to my parents about anything even remotely more serious than generic smalltalk and i'm having a hard time believing myself that my struggles are in fact real and i'm not just making them up.
and also on a less related note; the thing i hate most about my parents: if i'm wearing headphones and couldn't understand what a parent was yelling from somewhere else in the house then it's my fault. but if it's the exact same situation but i'm the one calling and they couldn't hear me, then it's obviously my fault too (i kinda get the first one but srsly how could i not wear headphones when they're constantly arguing with my brother in the room next to mine) (either way if one of the scenarios is clearly my fault, then the other shld be clearly their fault bc that's how logic works)
hhhh, this got quite long. i would love to hear your thoughts about this
a continuation from the other ask about my parents not taking me seriously even when i ask them for help with my hardest problems. that ask didn't really go in the direction i had planned but there is so much going on between my parents and me that i really need to talk to someone about
background: i'm around 15-16 rn and have a brother who's 18. primary school was academically very easy for me (lots and lots of great and even perfect grades) but my brother didn't have it as easy (lots and lots of mediocre and meh grades) so my parents really just kinda let me do my thing while they were constantly busy with my brother. so i got really independant and did all of my stuff on my own bc a) i always had done it that way and b) my parents were already busy and stressed. but after my brother got his first computer and got into video games his grades dropped and my parents started constantly arguing with him and taking away his computer and stuff like that so there was always a lot of tension (and i got to a point where i can't handle people yelling; that's what i was referring to with the headphone thingy at the end of the last ask) i don't know if i can go that far and say that my parents kinda neglected me and my emotional needs in favour of saving my brother grades but that's pretty much the way it feels.
i'm now a sophomore (school works a bit different here but i'm the equivalent of a highschool sophomore afaik, here it's just 10th grade) and starting from about mid 8th grade (end of 2018) i've been struggling a lot with self care and upkeep of my already minimal social circle and academic stuff (i'm at the academically highest level of school you could be at my age without skipping any years) and also mental health.
i got quite depressive and started isolating myself and casting away friends and my grades went down a lot, which really disappointed me because my great grades were kind of my trademark thing. but i didn't feel safe talking to my parents because of the huge distance that we built by me "never" needing their help with stuff.
in that time (almost a year ago, our anniversary is in twenty days or so) i got a girlfriend and i'm hella glad that i can talk to her about everything but i feel like i can't just go dump trauma and parent issues on her forever
about last november or so i was at a pretty low point and was suicidal and that's kind of when i snapped and went to my parents to talk so being cast away and having my issues invalidated really really hurt then and made me spiral even deeper and my gf was the only thing keeping me afloat.
i'm kind of a bit better now but i have rebuilt my view of my parents from "idk we never really interact" to "trying to interact or talk is not worth the energy" and needless to say i don't like them that much
oh and i forgot about all the times i got panic attacks and sensory overloads @ school because there are so many people there (1700 students + 200 teachers) and it's loud everywhere and of course asking my parents for what to do if suddenly everything is too bright and too loud and you can't move or talk because of it didn't get me anywhere (and since i didn't know what it was called or how to describe it properly, i didn't really find any Information online either
and just typing this makes me think of so many more things that they did that aren't okay things to do (a lot of gender identity stuff for example because i'm also neck-deep in that) . but writing this has also helped a lot right now. thank you for being there and listening.
and just in case i'm ever gonna pop back in to say something i'm gonna drop a name for easier identifying
sincerely - 🌌 milky way anon
Hi, nonnie! Thanks for the kind words, I'm really glad my blog has been of help ❤️
I'm sorry your parents are making it hard to believe your struggles are real :( you deserve to be taken seriously and to get access to all the help you might need. Just the fact your symptoms are there and you're noticing them and they're interfering with your daily life is enough to get them checked, regardless of if you need a diagnosis/meds/anything else. No one deserves to live wondering if their struggles are worth discussing with a doctor or professional.
And you're right: if one of those things was your fault, then the other should be theirs, logically. But I don't even think it's "your fault" you didn't hear them because you were wearing headphones, to be honest. I think it's just something that happens from time to time and that doesn't warrant getting mad over; I think it's the kind of thing that simply needs to be talked about so everyone in the household knows how to communicate with everyone else without getting frustrated. It's as easy as saying "hey, whenever I put on headphones I'll just text the family group chat to let you guys know I won't hear you. If you need anything in those moments, just text me instead". I do this with my girlfriend sometimes—if we're wearing headphones and we're in the same room, we simply pat each other when we need something and wait until the other takes off their headphones to talk. It really doesn't have to be an issue where anyone is to blame. You're allowed to take steps to feel safe and comfortable in your house without getting punished for it.
But, of course, this doesn't work if the people around you choose to prioritise "being right" and proving you're wrong over a peaceful and healthy cohabitation, which is what most toxic and abusive people do.
As for your second ask, I would say if it feels like your parents neglected you and your needs because they were always focusing on your brother, then it's okay to say that they did. The fact alone that those feelings are there makes you deserving of talking about it and wanting to heal from it; the cause of those feelings doesn't have to be something major, or sound deeply traumatising when you say it out loud, in order to "count". And people whose emotional needs were consistently met don't feel like they weren't.
I've already shared this video before, but if you want some resources on identifying and healing from emotional neglect, I really recommend watching it. Please bear in mind, though, that the video says it's important to not blame parents for emotionally neglecting you, but I don't think that's the message a lot of people need to hear and I think you should allow yourself to feel angry at your parents for not meeting your needs and causing you trauma. That's pretty much the only thing I'd criticise about the video.
I'm sorry to hear you've been struggling with your grades and mental health lately, nonnie. I had a quite similar experience when I was in high school—I used to always get great grades, but my mental health and trauma put a lot of strain on them (as well as on my social life; I lost a lot of friends in those years) and it was really distressing to see the only thing that made me "worthy" crumble between my fingers like that. I'm still trying to unlearn this idea that your grades define your worth, and it's been really hard.
I'm so sorry your parents weren't there for you when you hit that low 😔 I'm glad your girlfriend could help you stay afloat in that moment, but they absolutely should've been there for you all those times you reached out to them for help with your struggles, and the fact that they didn't is emotionally neglectful of them.
I'm glad you're in a better place now ❤️ I really hope you can find out all the information you need on gender identity and sensory overload and any other issues that might be affecting you. Know that you deserve for your parents to be there for you. You shouldn't have to face any of this on your own, or even with only the support of other people your age. You deserve for them to care. You deserve to have your symptoms checked out. You deserve adult guidance to find resources to help you better understand and manage your struggles.
Sending all my virtual support your way ❤️ and happy belated anniversary to you and your girlfriend!
#Ask#milky way anon#Abuse#Abuse tw#Abusive parents#Toxic parents#Ableism tw#I'm not from the US either so I have no idea what a sophomore is hahaha#Emotional neglect tw#childhood emotional neglect#panic attacks tw#Suicidal tw
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I wrote a thing today. It was supposed to be for Valentine’s Day
Title: Holding Space
Fandom: Star Trek TNG
Pairing: Will Riker/Deanna Troi
Rating: PG
Notes: set between Season 3 episodes The Bonding and The Booby Trap
Commander Will Riker would be lying if he didn’t admit that he was disappointed Deanna had not yet come to the bridge to report she was back on board. It wasn’t an official protocol, but it was a courtesy that the senior staff generally observed. It was, in fact, out of the ordinary that Deanna didn’t report to the bridge officer on duty.
He told himself he would wait a full half hour past her anticipated arrival time to call down to O’Brien. It would be a very long half hour, and he knew that at least some of the bridge crew were very aware he was antsy. So Will had dutifully read through the various daily reports sent in. And he checked the logs three times to make sure there wasn’t some mental health crisis that would’ve pulled her immediately back into work.
Eventually, he’d taken to the ready room, vacant since the captain was off duty at the moment. Catching up on reports was no help in the distraction department because the only remaining reports they were still working on were the reports over the Mintaka III duck blind. It had been an utter failure in all aspects of First Contact. Not that the Enterprise crew had been able to really help it. It was more an Act of Fate.
Privately, though, Will still felt guilty about the whole thing. Guilty for leaving Deanna behind. He knew, rationally, that there was no help for it. Palmer had needed immediate medical care. There had been no reason to think that Deanna wouldn’t be able to slip quietly away and be beamed back on board.
“You’re beating yourself up over it,” she’d observed one night in Ten Forward, about a week ago. Her fingers played with the glass containing her Sumerian sunrise, idly tracing the bands etched around the cup.
He shifted, elbow on the table to lean against it for support, suddenly uncomfortable with the turn this evening was taking. Rather than answer immediately, he took a slow inventory of the lounge. It was a slow night, and they were relatively isolated. As his gaze swept the bar, Guinan had given him a long look and a subtle nod. He wasn’t even really sure what the nod meant, except that they would be given some space. “We should’ve come up with a better plan. One that had less risk.”
“We had limited intelligence. Given what we knew at the time, the risks seemed minimal. In retrospect, I don’t see what we could’ve done any differently. And, Will, I’m fine. I wasn’t hurt.”
He shook his head. “You were almost sacrificed to a non-existent deity,” he ground out, one hand lifting to rub his beard in frustration. “Do you know what it’s like to sit in a meeting with the captain and the current expert in Mintakan culture and hear that under these extraordinary circumstances, they might actually kill someone you care about?”
Deanna was leaning in now, arms resting on the table, hands clasped. He envied her level of calm and acceptance about this. “No, I do not. But,” she quickly added, “I do know what it’s like to sit on the bridge or in meetings and hear about missions where the people that I care deeply about may die. To see you and our friends leave on away teams when there are serious risks. To coordinate evacuations and general quarters, especially sauce separations, that leave me with the low-risk group and people I care for very much on the battle bridge.”
The intensity of her words hit him like a phaser blast, and Will was left speechless for long moments. He’d never taken much time to consider what it looked like from her end of things. And given her sympathetic smile, she realized this.
“It’s the life I chose, Will,” she added quietly after giving him some time to absorb her first statements. “We all signed up for Starfleet understanding the risks. Some of us have already lost loved ones in the line of duty…”
It was the line of duty that was the hardest to absorb. That reminder that her own father had died while serving. Amplified days later when Lieutenant Aster died on the archeological dig. It had impacted the crew, shocked them all because this had seemed like such a routine exploration. Worsened because she left behind Jeremy, now parent-less.
And in the last six days since that incident, Deanna had been on duty, more or less continuously caring for the boy. Worf had wanted to accompany both her and Jeremy to Starbase 24, where they would rendezvous with the boy’s aunt and uncle, but the Enterprise couldn’t spare him long enough. As it was, Deanna would barely make the connection back before they needed to jump to high warp in order to make their next mission. If she was delayed, it would be another week or more before a shuttle or transport would cross their path to bring her back.
In the end, it was O’Brien calling. “Transporter Room 3 to Commander Riker.”
“Riker here,” he replied instantly, straightening in his seat on the couch. He never used the desk in the ready room because it felt too much like the captain’s personal space.
“The counselor is back on board. You can take us to warp now.”
“Acknowledged,” Will replied, feeling a bit silly for not realizing sooner that O’Brien would be aware they were waiting for her arrival before moving on. That he would have anticipated the need to notify the bridge so they could go to warp.
Gathering the PADD he had been using, Will made his way back to the bridge. “Counselor Troi is back on board. Warp eight, on to our next coordinates,” he called to the helm before settling into the captain’s chair. He continued to fight his eagerness to see her back on board for himself. With a few commands from his PADD, he finished the plans he’d settled on the night before in anticipation of her return.
She had sent two communiques to him in as many days. They’d spoken only once through subspace, the first night after Jeremy had fallen asleep in one of the bunks on a small thirty passenger supply ship they’d caught a ride with. Deanna had looked very tired, eyes shadowed from lack of sleep that he hadn’t seen from her in a long time. It had been a rough past few months for her-- the psychological torment on Rana IV, nearly being sacrificed on Mintaka III, and the aftermath of Aster’s death. He’d set a hot bath to run in her quarters and left out some real chocolate that he’d managed to obtain on a recent starbase and kept a secret stash for the rough days when hot chocolate from the replicator wasn’t enough. Will had the sense from their subspace call that this would be one of those days.
And yet the bridge held only the scheduled crew members on a very routine shift. Textbook even. He’d rarely been so glad to hand over command to Data when it finally did end. In reality, he should be finding his way to the mess hall or Ten Forward for a meal. But he was determined not to wait any longer.
It didn’t take long to gain her quarters, and he politely pressed the button to notify her that she had a visitor. They came and went freely from each other’s quarters. They were both visitors with full access at any time. Besides that, as First Officer, he had override access to all parts of the ship. But he was a gentleman and would announce himself.
When there was no answer, he paused for a long moment. A glance up and down the hall confirmed that he was alone for now, and he was grateful. Everyone on board knew they were close. It wouldn't have been the first time either of them had been spotted outside the other’s quarters. Besides, their roles on the ship meant they often worked closely together. But he was also acutely aware that the crew knew their relationship was much more complicated than that.
“Computer, location of Counselor Deanna Troi,” he finally decided to consult on this, instead of simply assuming she was in her quarters. It would be easy enough to gain entry, but he hesitated to simply go in. She might be sleeping. Or she might want to be alone. A few dozen less rational explanations for no answer flitted through his mind, but he dismissed the various scenarios as absurd and unlikely.
“Counselor Deanna Troi is in Commander Riker’s quarters.”
Now that was not something he had not considered. With an about-face, he moved just down the corridor and through his own door. His lounge showed no evidence of a visitor, and he frowned to himself as he scanned the room to be sure he hadn’t missed anything. He gained his room and came to a full halt at the doorway.
There was a Betazoid in his bed. Soundly asleep. In the chair in the corner, her maroon uniform was folded neatly and her boots tucked out of the walkway. He was pretty sure he’d left at least a few articles of clothing on the floor, but it had been cleared out, most likely tossed in the laundry.
But what caught his breath was how small and worn out Deanna looked under the silvery Starfleet-issued blanket. The shadows under her eyes were more pronounced in the low light seeping in from the lounge. He wondered if she had even gone to her own quarters at all, and he suspected likely not.
For now, he was too awake to sleep. So he let himself linger for several moments more, absorbing that she was back on board. That she was getting the rest she so clearly needed. There would be time to catch up later. Will finally returned to his lounge and found something in the replicator menu that sounded appetizing and was able to focus enough to wrap up his daily report and close out two older reports before his mind wound down enough that he could think about sleeping, too.
A quick sonic shower relaxed him enough that Will knew meant he could finally get some rest. When he went in search of his usual blue pajamas, he found the top missing but tugged on the trousers and eased in beside Deanna. And he quickly found his missing top, which she had appropriated for her own sleepwear.
That particular realization touched on a mix of new feelings. Attraction. It wouldn't be the first time she had swiped something of his to sleep in. Secretly, he hoped it wouldn’t be the last time, either. And it touched on something tender, which surprised him all the more. That she was tired enough to borrow something, rather than make the effort of going to her own quarters, one room away, for her own things.
“Mmmm,” she murmured now, though Will could tell she remained on the other side of sleep.
“Sssh,” Will soothed, arms banding around her and pulling her closer to him, his body warmer than usual from the sonic shower. She relaxed into the comfort, as he’d hoped she would. “Back to sleep,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss into her hair. “I’m glad you’re back,” he breathed, thumb pressing at the nape of her neck, seeking those pressure points to soothe and relax her. He rubbed small circles until her breath evened out again, familiar and soothing against the crook of his neck and he followed her into deep sleep.
#imzadi#otp: imzadi#will riker#deanna troi#counselor troi#commander riker#my messed up space cinnamon nugget rolls
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As I Lay Sleeping: Ch. 3 - The Journey Begins
He was fit before, he’s sure of that. His body is (mostly) lean and there’s still some hint of muscle there in his arms, his legs and if what Elizabeth had told him was true it would make sense that he needed to keep in shape.
But after one hundred years of sleep, not even the stasis pod he’d been put in could’ve kept him from feeling very much like he’s going to die as he huffs and puffs his way up the mountain. Who the hell thought this was a good idea?
He’d set off immediately after she’d disappeared. She was earnest in her instruction to leave the cloister, to find… Rodney, whoever the hell that was, and to save home. Clearly she had not accounted for the minimized lung function and the fact that you know, up until a few hours ago, he’d been floating in a giant vat of water.
He stops somewhere along the ridge, closing his eyes against the burn in his legs and he lets himself rest for just a moment.
You must keep going, John. The door will only remain open for a short time before it closes forever. You must go now.
“Alright, alright,” he groans, maybe a little annoyed but he thinks he’s probably allowed. “Would it have killed you to gimme a little more time to acclimate?”
Yes.
Well. Okay then. He pushes himself off the rock he’d been leaning against and he starts back up the mountain.
---
It’s slow going. He feels the exhaustion beginning to creep in as he nears midnight but just as he can feel Atlantis in his mind, he also knows he’s getting close. He can feel it, the outside calling to him, beckoning him near and so though his legs are screaming for respite, he pushes himself further and further until he comes to the mouth of a cave.
There’s a kind of darkness inside that even outside, looking in, feels suffocating and there’s a moment of apprehension just outside. What is he truly walking into?
“I don’t know if I can do this,” he murmurs into the darkness. What if the person who came out of that stasis chamber was not the same who went in? Elizabeth had spoken about bravery, but what if that wasn’t him anymore?
You have to.
“What if I can’t?”
Then let me give you a reason.
He gasps, something exploding wildly behind his eyes, and he drops to his knees, gripping the sides of his head. He can feel her in there, and he opens his mouth to speak or to scream, but he finds that he can’t move.
And then, everything goes black.
---
“This could be, you know,” he says, head tipped back as he peers up at the night sky. Lantea’s moon shines brightly, reflecting off of the ocean and it would be peaceful if not for the impending battle less than six hours away.
Smarter men would be preparing, maybe, but how do you prepare for sixty enemy ships on the horizon? No, they’ve done all they can.
There’s a quiet clink of glass together before he tips his head back, taking a drink of his beer as he stands shoulder to shoulder with the other, pressed so close he can feel the warmth of the other’s body through his black t-shirt.
“If this doesn’t work--.”
“It will, Rodney. It has to.”
“But if doesn’t,” he says, lifting his eyes to meet John’s and there’s something there behind that gaze, something wistful. Something… sad. “If it doesn’t, I just want you to know that I’ve always… you…”
He can’t find the words. He’s struggling, trying to lay himself bare here, to let John in in a way that he never has before. Why hadn’t they done this sooner, he wonders?
“Not now,” he says and he turns to face Rodney, setting the beer down on the railing as he reaches for the other’s wrist. “Not tonight. You’re going to tell me when we’re not under the threat of impending death, alright?” Rodney’s face falls for a fraction of a second and he tries to pull away, but John’s grip tightens and he tugs the scientist closer. “Rodney,” he murmurs and he leans in so close, lips brushing the outer shell of the other man’s ear.
“For what it’s worth… me too.”
---
He comes to with a gasp, eyes wild as he scrambles to find purchase, to push himself back to his feet and for a moment, it feels so real that he whirls around as if expecting to see the other from his dream.
But he doesn’t.
“I don’t—why did you…?”
Keep going, John. You must. For him.
He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose before he steps into the darkness and allows the path to guide him. It seems to go on forever, a long, winding tunnel, dark enough that his eyes never seem to adjust. He lets her guide him though, as Elizabeth instructed, following the gentle thrum as he works his way through until finally, he can see just a bit of the night sky up ahead.
He’s made it.
He jogs the rest of the way, desperate to be free from the darkness and as he spills out of the cave, he feels something cold settle over him, leaving him shivering.
You have left the Cloister. Your journey has begun.
“Oh great,” he mutters and he glances around, taking in the thick forest before him. “How do I know you didn’t make that up? That--… on the pier.”
I can access your memories, John, but I cannot distort or alter them in any way.
“Then if you can access them, give them back! All of them! Why can’t you show me, why can’t you tell me who I am?”
Because you are not ready. Find the Jumper. There are others who await your arrival.
“What are you talking about?” And he’s so frustrated in this moment that he could scream. How is he supposed to trust this voice, trust himself when he still doesn’t know who he is? All he has is a backpack with some crystal and a single supposed memory with no context, used as if to manipulate him into moving forward.
But no, he realizes after a moment. Not used to manipulate. Used to… to… awaken a part of himself that was slow to rise. Because he feels it now, an overwhelming sense of duty to protect people he could not yet remember, to protect their home.
He lets that feeling spurn him forward into a thicket of trees as the sun begins to rise, and this place feels familiar to him, almost as familiar as the voice in his head.
He walks and walks until he can feel the thrumming of her energy again, calling out to him and there’s a quiet whoosh as the… thing materializes in front of him. It’s a ship. A…
Puddle Jumper.
He steps inside and up the ramp, palming the crystal behind him to close the door and it feels almost second nature to him to move forward into the cockpit.
He sets his bag down on the seat behind him and glances at the controls on the dash, lips turned down into a frown. The symbols… the…
The crystal!
He reaches over and pulls it from his bag and he can feel that she’s pleased with him as he drops to his knees and pulls the control panel open. There’s a slot that’s empty and turning the crystal over in his hands, he vaguely remembers a lesson a long time ago.
He slots the crystal into place and the Jumper comes alive around him, the heads up display lighting up, beeping quietly to get his attention.
There’s a blinking dot on the screen, followed by the symbols… glyphs from the dash illuminated in a certain pattern.
Go to gate. You will know what to do when you arrive.
He doesn’t know how she knows that, but she hasn’t been wrong yet. His hand hovers over the dash, brow furrowed in concentration as he thinks about how to get this thing moving and all of a sudden, it just… does.
There’s a swooping feeling in his stomach as the Jumper lifts from the ground, high above the trees and he can’t help but let out a whoop of joy as he soars through the sky.
“Okay. This is… this is cool.”
He gets the distinct impression that she might be laughing at him, but he turns his attention toward the blinking dot, watching as he grows closer and closer until he can see it in the distance: a metal ring, glyphs etched into the outside.
“Alright,” he says, glancing back up at the corresponding glyphs on the HUD, fingers moving of their own accord as he activates the dialing device in the Jumper.
There’s an explosion of blue as the Gate comes to life and this is it, he thinks. If he
moves forward, if he continues on this journey, he knows there’s no turning back.
But he thinks he doesn’t have a choice and not because some voice in his head told him otherwise, but because… there’s something tugging in his chest as he thinks back on the memory.
“If it doesn’t, I just want you to know that I’ve always… you…”
Apparently, he has a conversation to finish.
And it’s with that thought that he urges the Jumper forward, letting the event horizon swallow them up.
This is where his journey begins.
#fic: as i lay sleeping#sga/breath of the wild#sga au#john sheppard#rodney mckay#elizabeth weir#ronon dex#teyla emmagan#carson beckett#aiden ford#sga fic#fandom: sga#mcshep#pairing: mcshep#john sheppard/rodney mckay
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“Did it ever get physical?”
This is often the first question we ask someone we know or suspect is in an unhealthy relationship. While starting a conversation around physical abuse is essential, the issue is when it’s the only question we ask.
Stopping short of inquiring about other forms of abuse implies that physical violence is the defining factor of an unhealthy relationship. Even worse, it conveys the message that whatever else might be going on is just “not that bad.”
This is a huge issue, because emotional abuse can absolutely be that bad.
Even if relationship never gets physically abusive, emotional abuse can escalate over time with devastating consequences, even death. And while emotional abuse does not always lead to physical abuse, physical abuse in relationships is nearly always preceded and accompanied by emotional abuse.[i]
Why don’t we hear more about emotional abuse? In addition to the common misconception that it’s just not that serious, many people simply aren’t sure what emotional abuse actually entails.
My aim here is to help you understand what emotional abuse really means and what makes it so dangerous so that you’re better equipped to start the conversation. Because if you want to stop it, you first have to know what you’re dealing with.
Defining Emotional Abuse
Understanding emotional abuse is complicated for many reasons. One reason is because there are several different names used interchangeably to refer to the same kind of abuse, including emotional abuse/violence, psychological abuse/violence, and mental abuse. For simplicity, we’ll use “emotional abuse” going forward.
Another complication is that there isn’t one accepted definition of emotional abuse. It seems that everyone has a slightly different version.
We’ve identified several common threads that make up the most widely accepted definitions and combined them here to create the following description of emotional abuse:
Emotional abuse is any abusive behavior that isn’t physical, which may include verbal aggression, intimidation, manipulation, and humiliation, which most often unfolds as a pattern of behavior over time that aims to diminish another person’s sense of identity, dignity and self worth, and which often results in anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts or behaviors, and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
Wow, that’s a lot.
Each part of the definition presents its own complications to fully grasping the reality of emotional abuse, so let’s dissect what this really means, piece by piece.
Breaking Down Emotional Abuse
1.“…any abusive behavior that isn’t physical…”
Pretty broad, right? Emotional abuse is difficult to comprehend because it encompasses so much. Just take a look at the non-exhaustive list[ii] below of behaviors that are potentially emotionally abusive:
Intimidation
Manipulation
Refusal to ever be pleased
Blaming
Shaming
Name-calling
Insults
Put-downs
Sarcasm
Infantilization
Silent treatment
Trivializing
Triangulation
Sabotage
Gaslighting
Scapegoating
Blame-shifting
Projection
Ranking and comparing
Arbitrary and unpredictable inconsistency
Threatening harm
Forced isolation
We specify “potentially” abusive behaviors because some of the behaviors on this list could occur in a healthy context as well. Let’s take sarcasm and infantilizing speech, for example. Many people consider sarcasm a key component of a good sense of humor. Many people would also agree that using infantilizing speech as terms of endearment is harmless, for example referring to a significant other as “baby.” However, in the context of emotional abuse where the intent is malicious, these behaviors can be extremely cutting, especially when disguised as affection or an innocent remark. For example, someone who repeatedly tells his or her significant other “My baby is so smart” in a way that’s meant to mock their partner’s intelligence using sarcasm as well as infantilizing speech to make them feel small is a form of emotional abuse.
2. “ …which may include verbal aggression, intimidation, manipulation, and humiliation”
The key word here is “may.” Not only is the list of emotional abuse tactics incredibly long and dependent on context, the particular combination of behaviors that show up, how they show up—whether overtly or covertly—and with what intensity can also vary greatly from relationship to relationship. As a result, we have another layer of complexity: emotional abuse doesn’t have one specific look.
For example, an emotionally abusive relationship where overt aggressing behaviors like yelling, threatening and blaming are predominantly used will look very different from a relationship where only very subtle forms of abuse like gaslighting, passive-aggressive put-downs, and minimizing are used.
3. “a pattern of behavior over time”
Emotional abuse is rarely a single event. Instead, it occurs over time as a pattern of behavior that’s “sustained” & “repetitive.”[iii] This particular characteristic of emotional abuse helps explain why it’s so complicated and so dangerous.
Even if you’re the most observant person in the world, emotional abuse can be so gradual that you don’t realize what’s happening until you’re deeply entangled in its web. As a result, the abuse can go unchecked as the relationship progresses, building for months, years, even decades, especially if the abuse is more covert. In such instances, the target’s self-esteem is steadily eroded and their self-doubt becomes so paralyzing that they often have only a vague sense that something (though unsure what) is wrong.
4. “aims to diminish another person’s sense of identity, dignity, and self-worth”
Regardless of how emotional abuse unfolds, experts agree that it has devastating effects on those who are subjected to it.[iv]
Unfortunately, these effects as well as each harmful act of abuse are largely invisible. This makes it difficult for most people to comprehend the very real risks and damage of emotional abuse.
Let’s demonstrate why. For a moment, try to imagine a scene of physical violence, a fight. Even if you’ve never witnessed or experienced it firsthand, your imagination can probably fill in the picture pretty well. The struggle. The adrenaline and fear. The aftermath of blood, bruises, tears. It’s a painful portrait but likely one that you can envision.
Now, try to picture a scene of emotional abuse, specifically someone whose self-identity has been annihilated. Can you see it?
Chances are your mind doesn’t know where to begin. But if you are able to create a picture of either the acts of abuse or what the damage looks like on the person who experienced it, can you put that image into words?
While describing physical wounds is pretty straightforward, it’s much harder to articulate emotional trauma. The parts of a person that sustained emotional abuse destroys—identity, dignity, and self-worth—are abstract, almost impossible to picture or measure.
5. “results in anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts or behaviors, and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)”
Because emotional abuse is essentially invisible, singling out the abuse as the culprit of its destructive effects is another kind of challenge and frustration.
Even in cases of extreme emotional abuse, there are no bruises or gashes where the victim can point and say, “This cracked rib is from that constant belittling and invalidation” and “That swollen eye and broken lip are from the incessant name-calling and guilt-tripping and pathological lying.” Instead, what emotional abuse ends up looking like is a person suffering from painful yet not uncommon afflictions like anxiety or depression.
It can therefore be heartbreakingly easy for anyone—whether the person inflicting the emotional abuse, a third-party observer, or even the target of the abuse—to misattribute its damage to some other cause like unemployment or family stress or even blame the target’s prior mental state if he or she battled similar issues in the past.
Closing Thoughts
Hopefully this explanation of emotional abuse is as comprehensive as possible, but I recognize that it’s still bound to have gaps due to the complications I’ve just mentioned. Think of it more as a springboard for future conversations and exploration than an all-encompassing definition.
Emotional abuse, like any other form of cruelty, thrives in the darkness when no one understands, discusses, or recognizes it. Use your newfound knowledge and curiosity to shine the light on the risks and devastation of emotional abuse.
A great place to start is with asking the question, “How does that behavior or action make you feel?” or “Did it ever get emotionally abusive?”
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Save you (Part 2) / Dhawan!Master x reader
clSummary: Traveling with The Doctor had shown you incredible things: The existence of extraterrestrial live, the possibility of time travel and the most beautiful and remote places you could have ever imagine... But being with her had also made you develop some strong values. To be kind and always help those in need. But would you be up to help The Master now that he is the one who needs to be saved?
Words: 6594
What’s written in italics are the reader’s memories.
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4
A few hours had passed, maybe more. Or maybe less. Time was perceived different when dying, as The Master was experiencing.
He wasn’t sure of how much time had passed since you had left the console room, but he did know it was too much time for his liking. He was getting bored. Also, he would never admit it out loud, but he kind of enjoyed having you around. Basically because he could mess you up and play with you all he wanted, which according to what he told himself, was a consolation during his final moments. If he had known how fun it was to have a pet, he would have probably gotten one earlier. Or probably not.
Regardless his agonizing state, he got up from the couch he had been in practically since the both of you escaped from Gallifrey, and ignoring the weight of his body pushing him back, he slowly dragged himself to wherever room you were in.
He had to hold himself against the wall as he walked, knowing that he would fall to the ground if he tried to stand by his own foot. Dying was the most infuriating thing he had got to experience. The Master would have been okay with having an instantaneous death, one in which he hadn’t had to witness the vulnerable and humiliating state he was in. Being dead was infinitely better than dying.
His efforts finally got him to your room, the one the TARDIS had created for you to stay in. The Master was surprised to find that you had already settled in like you were in your own home. That’s what humans were like, always appropriating of everything and making themselves at home where they’re not wanted.
Before getting into the room, he took a few seconds to try and regain the little composure he still had left. It was humiliating enough for him to witness his own decay, he needed to look as threatening as possible in front of you. To live up to his reputation, since that was all he had left now.
Finally, he opened the door without even knocking first, only to find you deeply asleep on the desk, your head buried in one of the books you had used as the sourced of your investigation.
To be honest, it surprised him the way you had committed to this. He believed that humans were lazy, that they gave up at the most minimal inconvenience. But seeing all the notes you had been taken and the fact that you had fallen asleep with the pen still in your hand made him reconsider that. Not that all that effort was going to pay you off, but it was still impressive.
And the thing that truly amazed him the most was that all of that effort was being put on him, the person that hadn’t done anything but lying and playing with you. He was supposed to be your enemy, and you still did everything in your hand to help him. What wouldn’t you do for someone you actually loved?
“You must have really fallen for O.” The Master sighed under his breathe, observing the way your chest calmly went up and down. He stood against the doorframe as he kept watching you, your face almost angelic as you didn’t move a muscle. “You’re a lot less annoying when you’re asleep. Why can’t you be like this all the time?”
He almost smiled involuntary when you, obviously, gave him no answer. You were the weirder human he had ever met, noisy and chaotic, yet always well intended. Sometimes you were too easy to deceive, excessively trusted, and sometimes you could read his intentions from miles away. It was the way you always ran to trouble, instead of running away from it. The way you constantly got yourself into life or death situations. And most importantly, the stupid urge he had of taking you out of them. He had never been protective of a human pet before. But it was different with you. You were his human.
Without giving it much thought, he carefully placed a blanket around your shoulders.
That was the main reason he hated having you around. He didn’t like what he was when you were there, but no matter how hard he tried, it was like he always got dragged back to you. It had started back when he was pretending to be O. You had only spent around a day and a half together, but that time seemed to be more than enough for him to develop a sixth sense when it came to protect you.
As much as he claimed he hated that feeling, he hated the possibility of you being hurt or killed even more.
The Master turned around to leave, frustrated and angry because of those feelings.
Dying was making him soft.
You adjusted your suit before following The Doctor, O, and the rest of the fam inside of Daniel Barton’s birthday party. The place was full of people, all dressed in really expensive clothing and walking around like that was their daily live. You did your best to pretend you were comfortable in that space.
When The Doctor told you to blend in and keep an eye on the VOR’s CEO, you made sure to go alongside O.
“I’ve never been to anywhere like this before.” You confessed the MI6 agent as you walked beside him. “I don’t know how to ‘blend in’.”
“Me neither. Analyst here, new to undercover work.” He gave you a reassuring smile. “I suppose we should do what everybody else is doing.”
“Which is?”
“Having a good time.” O grabbed two glasses of champagne from a waiter that was walking around and handed you one. “Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t know…” You looked around the place. You didn’t know how to play any of the games, so it didn’t really matter what you chose. Finally, you decided to point out the place in which you saw less people. “What about there?”
With a kind smile, O offered you his arm. Taking it, the both of you walked to the game you had chosen.
The thing was that you couldn’t stop thinking about that conversation the both of you had had earlier. The Doctor had interrupted you in the worst possible moment. But then again, was it okay for you to know what O was going to tell you? Maybe The Doctor kept it from you for a good reason. Were you entitled to sneak around her past behind her back? Trying to get out of your mind, you tried to focus on the game, which was really hard since you didn’t know the rules of it. When it was your time to roll the dices, you extended your hand to O.
“Blow for good luck.” You asked him. You had seen it in movies, so you thought it wouldn’t hurt to try and summon your luck with that little ritual. O did as you told him with a wide smile. You shook the dices in your hand for a few seconds before finally rolling them. Everyone at the table started to cheer. “What happened? Did we win?”
“No.” He shook his head slightly.
“I didn’t know what I was doing anyway.”
“You know what they say.” He turned to you. “Lucky at dice, unlucky at love.”
“Do they really say that?” You raised an eyebrow.
“No.” O admitted with a chuckle, causing you to laugh too. “I’m just saying that the luck I just gave you must have ended up somewhere.”
“Let’s hope you’re right.” As it was a habit for you when you got nervous, you placed some of your hair behind your ear. “O, about what you were saying earlier of Gallifrey…?”
“Mmm?” He insisted you to finishing your question.
“How did you gather all that information?”
“You’re not the first ones to travel with The Doctor.” He informed you. “I interviewed some of her former companions and they told me some very useful things.”
“They just stopped travelling with The Doctor?” You frowned, confused. It was stupid to think you were one of the first humans to be lucky enough to travel with her, but you hadn’t really contemplated the possibility of other people doing it before you.
O nodded his head before looking at you in the eye. “I suppose not everyone is made for that kind of life. Are you planning on travelling with her forever?” His question moved something inside of you. You had never considered the possibility of leaving your life with The Doctor.
“I don’t know, I never thought about all of this having an end.” You admitted, looking away. “I suppose someday I might go back home and settle down…” You shrugged. “But not for the moment.” He gave you a sympathetic smile. “So… What happened with that war on Gallifrey?”
“Apparently, it was one of the most cruel and bloody ones in the history of the Time Lords.” His eyes observed your every reaction at what he was saying. “They fought for so long that they got out of control. Children, elderly, it didn’t matter. People were killed day after day for centuries. That was until The Doctor came up with a drastic solution to put an end to the massacre.”
“What did she do?” You immediately asked, watching her playing cards from afar. O stayed silent. “What was the solution?”
“Genocide.” He finally answered as you tried to process everything. “She killed off her entire species.”
“The Doctor wouldn’t–“
Before you could finish your sentence, he cut you off. “Think about it. You’ve travelled the universe, Y/N.” He looked into your eyes while he spoke. “Have you ever met another Time Lord?” You silently shook your head. “That’s because there are none left.”
In that moment, you watched Barton get in the room from the corner of your eye.
“Don’t tell her I told you any of that.” O was quick to add. You watched The Doctor go after Daniel Barton to interrogate him.
“But why have you told this to me and not to the others?” You questioned. He grabbed your hand and looked you in the eye.
“Because I care about you.” You felt your cheeks blushing at his words. It was stupid to think about that kind of stuff in a situation like that, but you couldn’t deny you felt attracted to him. “I want you to be safe. I gave you this information so that you could be prepared for anything. You decide what to do with it.” His eyes were on yours as he carefully caressed your hand. “And if you decide you want to stop travelling with her for a while, I have a spare bedroom. Maybe you could come work with me. If you want, of course.” You returned him the smile as you both went back with the group.
You had never pictured The Doctor as a killer, and certainly not as a person who would be able to commit genocide against her own people. She had been nothing but a pacifist since the first time you had met her. Maybe O was lying to you, or maybe he was simply wrong.
But that story would explain why The Doctor was so secretive about her origins, and why she never wanted to take you see her home planet. The more you thought about it, the more sense it made. If what O had said was true, could you trust her anymore?
You had been consumed by your thoughts for the last half hour. O had told you that you could do whatever you wanted with that information. Should you confront her about it? Should you act like nothing had happened? Should you just stop travelling with her?
Those questions were running through your mind as all of you followed Daniel Barton to the airport. Unfortunately, you didn’t have much time to think about what your move towards The Doctor should be, as the CEO of VOR was running away inside of his private plane. Not even contemplating the idea of letting him get away, The Doctor began to run to the moving vehicle.
Her, you and the fam got inside the plane with relatively easily, but when you looked around you found that O was getting left behind. You extended him your hand as he finally got to the plane, helping him get on board. He commented you how he had always been bad at running as the others ran to the main cabin. You followed them.
“Never been good at sprinting?” The Doctor asked O about what he had said earlier.
“I was the last one in every race at school.” He justified himself as he made his way to sit beside you.
“No, no, no. I read your file. You were a champion sprinter.” The alien insisted. You looked at the MI6 agent in confusion, seeing something change in his features.
“Mmm. Got me. Well done.” His tone was darker, colder as he spoke.
“What's going on, Doc?” Graham asked. You weren’t the only one that had noticed his sudden change of behavior.
“I don't know.” She squirmed her eyes, trying to understand what was going on.
“You'd best take a look out of the window.” ‘O’ pointed out the small plane’s window you were sitting next to. You did as he told just to find his house flying through the sky.
“How's your house out there?” The eldest of your human friends asked again.
“Bit Wicked Witch of the West, but you get the gist. Maybe. Maybe not.” The so–called agent made his way to the front of the plane. “Oh, come on, Doctor, catch up. You can do it. Come on.”
“Oh!” The Time Lord exclaimed like she had suddenly figured everything out. The rest, on the other hand, couldn’t be anymore lost.
“That's...that's my name, and that is why I chose it.” A big, mischievous smile appeared on his face, one so different to the ones he had been given you all day. “Oh, so satisfying. Doctor, I did say look for the spymaster. Or should I say spy... Master? Hi.” He waved his hand at The Doctor
“You can't be.”
“Oh, I can be. I very much am.”
What where they talking about? If The Doctor had known that man from before, how could have he tricked her into making her believe he was O?
“Who is he, Doctor?” You finally dared to ask. As it turned out, whoever that person was had been lying about his identity this whole time. Chances were he had lied about The Doctor being a killer too.
“I'm her best enemy, love.” He looked at you in the eye, impersonating O’s calmer tone. “Call me Master.”
This ‘Master’ proceeded to explain how he had infiltrated MI6 and how he had been in an alliance with Barton and the creatures made of light all along. You couldn’t help but to feel stupid for having once believed anything he had said. When The Doctor went to check on Barton, she realized there was a bomb in his place, set by The Master.
The Doctor couldn’t do anything to deactivate the bomb and a minute later the plane burst out in flames.
“One last thing. Something you should know in the seconds before you die. Everything that you think you know... is a lie.” He told The Doctor.
With all of your strength, you gripped to one of the seats, but couldn’t help your fingers to slip. You closed your eyes, scared as you had ever been as you felt your body flying away. Heights were one of the things you feared the most, and realizing that you were about to fall to the ground from about 30,000 feet was making you live your worst nightmare. You thought you were doomed when you suddenly felt The Master grabbing you by your arm just in time.
“Got you.” He laughed before teleporting the both of you away.
Your whole body was sore from the uncomfortable position you had fallen asleep in. You didn’t know how much time you had been asleep, but you did know it hadn’t been much. Plus it hadn't been a restoiring sleep either, since you were almost as tired as you were when you fell asleep. As you got up from the chair you had been for the last hours, you felt your body longing to lay down and have some proper rest. Sadly for you, you didn’t have time for that.
Well, at least you supposed you didn’t. In fact, you had no idea of how many time you had before The Master passed away. And for that reason you needed to work faster, if you truly wanted to save him.
There was no denying that you had had second thoughts about helping him. You knew he wouldn’t be up to anything good if he did survive this. But if you left him to die on his own you would be just like that part you hated about him, wouldn’t you?
As you observed the last notes you had written before falling asleep, you realized there was a blanket around your shoulders. You didn’t remember grabbing it, but you supposed you must had gotten cold in the last moments before you passed out.
Giving it no second thought, you walked out of your room and walked to where The Master was with the intention to check on him. He was lying on the couch where you had left him to rest earlier, his eyes closed and his body immobile. You walked slowly to him and placed two fingers on his neck, looking for his pulse. You weren’t sure if his pulse worked like yours, so when didn't find it you moved your fingers to the other side of his neck. Maybe you were too late…
“I’m still alive.” He muttered bitterly without opening his eyes as you finally found the beating of his heart, their rhythm being delicate, but still faster than yours. His voice sounded even weaker than it did the last time you had spoken to him.
“Just checking.” Putting your hand away from him, you sighed.
It was strange to be there again, you thought as you watched your surroundings. You had first been there when you thought he was O, but since you had found out about his true identity, the same place had a different vibe. O’s house had always been The Master’s TARDIS, they looked exactly the same –except for the console that was on the center of the room now– but they seemed like worlds apart to you. You had always liked the place anyway, even though it was messy and a bit chaotic. It suited him.
Still thinking about that, you started to prepare some tea. You didn’t even bother to ask The Master if he wanted some, knowing that he would immediately reject anything that came from you. You silently prepared an extra cup for him.
When the drink was ready, you placed it in a small table next to the place where he was lying.
“I didn’t ask you for that.” He said as he watched you sit across from him.
“I know.” You shrugged and took a sip of your own cup just to put it away when the hot liquid burning your tongue. The Master laughed at you. “What’s so funny?”
“You are.” He stated. He couldn’t hold back a cough while he tried to sit. “Have you given up yet?” You immediately shook your head. “You’re wasting your time. Don’t you think that if there was a possible solution I would have come up with it already?” The Master grabbed the cup that you had prepared for him, the hot that the mug irradiated heating up his chilled hands. “The Cyberium is an AI, it’s not a common cold like the ones you have on Earth. It knows what it’s doing and it won’t stop until I’m dead.”
“Neither will I.” The Master laughed again at your impertinence before taking a small sip of tea.
“It will be useless.” He looked at you in the eye. Not being able to hold his gaze, you looked down at your cup.
“Well, if I don’t get to cure you, at least you won’t be dying on your own.” You looked back at him to find that he was still staring at you. “I need you to tell me everything you know about the Cyberium, the books don’t say much about it.”
“There’s not much to know.” He said. “The Cyberium it’s the essence of all cyberknowledge.”
“How does it choose its host? Why did it choose you?” You kept asking. For some reason The Master was being especially receptive, you needed to take advantage of it.
“Because I told it to.” He shrugged, letting the cup back on the table next to him. “I promised it control over the universe, and when that plan failed it decided I needed to get punished.” He reminded you. “The Cyberium needs a capable host, one that will do as it pleases. If the host refuses to help or fails at their task, they are killed.” He pushed away some of the hair falling on his face.
You kept looking at The Master, trying to formulate the question in your mind. After a few seconds, you realized there was no right way to ask that.
“Are you afraid to die?” The words simply came out of your lips, making him form a weakened smile.
“I could ask you the same thing.” He avoided answering. “You keep getting yourself into life or death situations and I’m not longer going to be there to get you out of them.”
The widest smile appeared on your face when he finally admitted what you already knew, that all the times he had saved you hadn’t been fortuity.
“Then it’s my time to return the favor, don’t you think?” You told him, a plan already forming in your head.
The Master didn’t even reply to that, he just gave you a concerned look as he laid back on the couch, his body shivering and aching. He was way too exhausted to keep the conversation any longer.
Him being nicer than usual worried you. It was surprisingly pleasant to have a conversation with him that didn’t end up with the both of you arguing, but that only meant he was getting worse. He didn’t even had enough strength to put up a fight. That was a sign.
A sign that you didn’t have much time left.
Next thing you knew, you were in O’s house, only that it was different now.
There was a big, red console in the middle of the living room, like the one The Doctor had on her TARDIS. Was that a TARDIS? But how could he have one?
You waited until Barton left to start asking your questions.
“Who are you really?” The Master turned to you when he heard you.
“Oh, sorry.” He laughed. “Completely forgot you were there. Can I bring you anything? Fancy another cup of tea there, darling?”
“You have a TARDIS.” You ignored his mocking and kept digging for answers. “You said you and The Doctor knew each other from way back, but she didn’t recognized your appearance. Are you a Time Lord?”
“Smart one, eh?” The Master confirmed your theory in his own twisted way. “I must say you weren’t that bright when you fell for O though. You made it too easy to manipulate you. Such a shame my cover blew up so soon, I had great plans for you.”
You bit your lip as you did your best not to fall in his game.
“If you’re in fact a Time Lord, everything you said about Gallifrey was a lie.” You figured out, feeling ashamed for having doubted of the Doctor.
“No, I was being serious about that.” You frowned as he seemed to speak with all the sincerity in the world. “The Time War did happen, and your precious Doctor ended it by killing everyone. Cross my hearts, you can ask her if you don’t believe me.”
“If she killed off all of your species how can you be here?”
“I wasn’t in Gallifrey when that happened.” He clarified. “I was the only one who survived.”
“Why would I believe anything you said?” The Master laughed when you asked that and got closer to you.
“It doesn’t matter if you believe it or not.” His eyes looked into yours, the complicity his gaze showed earlier now gone. “But if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be asking so many questions about it.” You stayed silent and looked away, not being able to hold his stare. “In her defense I will say they were all monsters.”
“Then why do you hate her so much?” You looked back at him as he laughed in a manic way. He was completely out of his mind.
“Your pathetic, useless human brain wouldn’t even begin to understand.” His voice was dead serious as he spoke, his face inches away from yours as he looked at you with pure hatred. “We’ve known each other for thousands of years, since we were just little children at the Academy. You pitiful humans can’t even conceive what it’s like to live more than a few years, how could you comprehend what it’s like to have the kind of relationship The Doctor and I have?”
You were about to reply when the TARDIS began to make an extremely loud sound. Visibly upset, The Master walked to the console and after looking at the screen, he hit it repeatedly. He looked in your direction, frustration all over his face.
“How has she got there?” Before you could ask him what was he talking about, he spoke again. “It doesn’t matter. It’s nothing I can’t deal with. I’m going to take care of it.”
The Master began to set the controls of his TARDIS, setting up a destination.
“You better change your clothes to something more fitting.” He told you without even looking at you. “We’re going to 1834, we’re paying our mutual friend a visit.” When he saw you stood still he insisted again in a more demanding tone. “Go change! NOW!”
Slowly, you dragged yourself deeper into his TARDIS, getting to the wardrobe and trying to find something suiting for the 19th century. A few minutes after getting yourself into one of the most uncomfortable dresses you had ever wore, The Master came looking for you. You couldn’t help but notice he had also changed himself.
“Come on, The Doctor is waiting for us.” He rushed you, grabbing you by the arm and guiding you out of the TARDIS.
He took you through the crowded streets without saying a single word. You weren’t sure of what was going on. Sure, he had said he was going to take you to see The Doctor, but why would he take you to see her? And how had she ended up in 1834? Last time you had seen her, she was in the plane crash. Oh damn, the airplane. Well, if The Doctor was alive and in 1834, you hoped the rest of your friends had also survived.
As you entered a notoriously big building, you noticed some strange device in The Master’s hand. You didn’t have time to ask him what it was as he took you both inside of an exposition full of people.
“Ladies and gentleman!” He shouted, getting the room’s attention without letting go of his grip on you. “See the incredible shrinking device! Want to be smaller, ladies? You can!” Pointing the device at one of the ladies in the room, he turned her into a small doll, causing panic to take over the entire building.
So, that was what the mysterious device was for. And that was how he had turned the real O into the tiny doll he had showed on the plane, now that you recalled it. Barely giving them time to react, The Master proceeded to shrink random man. Letting you go for a second, he grabbed both of the miniaturized bodies from the floor and showed them to you.
“Aren’t they a lovely couple?” He asked before throwing them away. The people on the room freaked out, trying to escape. “Do not move! Hands on heads. Hands on heads!”
“Let them go.” You heard The Doctor’s voice as she approached the both of you. The Master quickly grabbed you by the arm again. “Let her go, and you can have me.”
“I’ve got you anyway.” He stated, looking into her eyes. Out of nowhere, he used the device again on another woman nearby. “When I kill them, Doctor, it gives me a little buzz. Right here, in the hearts. It's like... How would I describe it? It's like... It's like knowing I'm in the right place, doing what I was made for.” The Master pointed his device at you in a threatening way. “Do you think it will feel this good when I kill her, Doctor?”
“What do you want?” She asked, trying to keep the situation under control, and most importantly, keep you alive. The Master thought about her question for a few seconds, holding you in place.
“Kneel.” He commanded, only getting a look of disbelieve from her. “Kneel or you’re going to have to get a doll house for your pet to live in.” The Doctor looked at you before getting on her knees. “Call me by my name.”
“Master.” She muttered.
“Beg your pardon?”
“Master.” The Doctor repeated.
“Can you hear her?” He asked you, his grip on your arm starting to cause you pain as he squeezed you closer to him. “We can’t hear you, love.”
“Master.” He let go of you to dramatically place his hand over his mouth, pretending to be moved.
The conversation between them went on as you tried your best to remain calmed. The last thing you wanted was to make a wrong move and triggering The Master into turning you into one of those little dolls. As they kept talking, The Doctor began to decode his plan, realizing that he didn’t even know what those creatures made of light were.
“That’s one uneasy alliance. Trust each other, do you?” The Doctor mocked her oldest friend.
“Oh, completely.” He said. “But Barton and the Kasaavin aren’t the only ones I’ve been talking to. Your precious Y/N here and I have become quite close. Turns out there’s a lot about you that she didn’t know.”
“What have you told her?” The Doctor asked, you could hear the worry in her voice. Why was she worried? Did she truly had anything to hide?
“Down, Doctor!” A voice was heard before the room was filled with the sound of a firearm.
When you looked up, you saw a woman shooting one of the weapons that formed part of the exposition. The Master quickly pushed you behind him just to be shot in his left arm.
“Ada, I really do not approve!” The Doctor screamed at the woman.
Taking advantage of the state of confusion that filled the room at the sight of a woman using a weapon, he took you by the wrist and got you out of there. He knew The Doctor couldn’t get far without a TARDIS anyway.
As you ran back to his ship, you could see the way he kept his left arm close to his body, probably trying to ease the pain. When you finally arrived to his TARDIS he let go of you.
You weren’t sure what had happened, but you could swear he had saved you from getting that bullet yourself. The Master took off the long coat that he was wearing and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, showing the wound that the bullet had left on him and the blood coming out of it. Under your worried stare, he rushed to one of the chest of drawers in the room to get a pair of tweezers.
He was about to remove the bullet himself when you stopped him.
“Wait.” You muttered, getting closer to him so you could take the tweezers from him.
“What are you doing?” He angrily asked.
“Let me help.”
Before he could complain, you gently took his arm and proceeded to remove the bullet yourself. It was the first time you found yourself in a situation like that one, and you didn’t exactly had plenty of idea of what you were doing, but you just couldn’t stand there and watch as he did that all by himself. If it was as painful as it looked, you simply couldn’t let him suffer more than necessary. Not if you could do something to help.
Luckily, it didn’t take long for you to remove the bullet and within a few seconds you threw it to the floor. The Master kept looking at you as you ripped the sleeve of your dress and put the fabric around his arm as an improvised bandage.
“Are you out of your mind?” You could sense the confusion in his tone for the first time since he had shown his true self. For a second there, he seemed to be out of place, like he didn’t know what to do in that situation. He wasn’t used to it, and he hated the feeling. “Why are you helping me? Are you dumb?”
“A simple ‘thank you’ would be nice.” You replied. He observed you closely, almost as if he was trying to study you. To be honest, you weren’t really sure of why you were helping him either.
His stare soon turned to one of disgust as he let himself free of your grip and walked to his console, ready to travel back to the 21st century. You kept yourself quiet as your mind went back to that last moment with The Doctor.
What could be so bad about her that she had to hide it? Was it the genocide of her own people or something even worse? Why couldn’t she be open and honest with you for a change? As ironic as it was, you had the feeling that The Master had been more open with you in a few hours than what she had ever been in all the time you had known her. He was supposed to be the bad guy, right? Then what sense did it made?
“I helped you because you have taught me more about yourself and your species than The Doctor ever has.” You said, even though he didn’t seem to pay much attention to you.
“Is it me or are you changing sides?” He mocked you, or so you thought. When he didn’t hear you answering, he turned to you.
You couldn’t even hold his stare as the idea started to cross your mind. Was that a possibility? You didn’t want to destroy Earth or end the human race, but after finding out about The Doctor’s secret you weren’t sure that you wanted to be on her side either. Why couldn’t be a third side, one that wasn’t looking for the destruction of the world and that could be honest with their companions?
“I’m not.” You finally stated, not sounding as confident as you would have liked. “But you could though. There’s good in you, I’ve seen it.”
“You must be having hallucinations then.” He harshly answered, looking away from you.
“You saved my life twice today.” You insisted, trying to make him see what you saw. “Once on the plane and also earlier when you took that bullet for me. I wasn’t hallucinating when that happened.”
“You just got really lucky today, that’s all.” His tone was getting more and more bitter as he tried to prove you wrong. “You must be mistaking me for your little boyfriend O. Wake up, he doesn’t exist.”
When you were about to reply, the TARDIS started to make that noise again. Not paying you anymore attention, he checked the screen in front of him, his face showing the despair he was feeling. How had she ended up in 1943? Good thing he had some contacts in the Gestapo. Without wasting a single second, he set the coordinates to the Nazi-occupied Paris.
“I’m tired of babysitting you.” He told you, grabbing some clothes as he made his way out. For the green color of it, you supposed it was an uniform. “Don’t go out or you’ll finally end with my patience. And you don’t want to see what happens next.”
After The Master left, you decided to go out for a second and check where his ship had landed, when you saw a group of men dressed at Nazis patrolling around, you realized you were in the middle of World War II. For once, you decided to obey the orders you were given and stay inside the TARDIS. You hadn’t exactly heard the best things about this time period, and going out there on your own was a step you weren’t sure you were ready to take.
The hours passed, and you couldn’t help but to start feeling worried when The Master didn’t come back. In his current incarnation, a territory occupied by the Nazis wasn’t the ideal place to be. What if they had captured him and he never came back? Your head was spinning around, considering whether if you should go out and look for him or not. You were about to take the step when the door finally opened, showing someone you weren’t expecting to see.
“Y/N!” The Doctor exclaimed as she ran to you and hugged you. She came in the company of two other women, one of them the one that was with her in 1834, Ada. “Are you okay?” You nodded as you embraced her back, happy to see her despite all the things you had learned about her. But you still needed to know the truth.
“Is it true, Doctor?” You dared to ask after a few seconds, getting away from her. “What The Master said about Gallifrey, about the Time War… Did you kill your own people?”
Her eyes turned dark for a second when she heard your words, finally realizing what was what The Master had told you.
“For a long time, I thought I did.” She answered you sincerely. “I thought that I had no choice. I thought that I had detonated my own planet.” You could hear the pain in her voice. “But many years later I came up with a solution to save Gallifrey, to let everyone live.” You heard her story as tears filled your eyes. You didn’t know what to believe anymore. “I trapped Gallifrey in a bubble, in an universe of its own, where it has been until now.” The Doctor said, avoiding to tell you about what The Master had insinuated at the Eiffel Tower.
“Where is The Master?” You asked, feeling deceived. You felt stupid for falling into his games over and over, but for some reason you couldn’t help but to still be worried about him.
“He’s been taken care of.” The Doctor assured you as she moved closer to the console, rushing to get back to the rest of your friends. “Don’t worry about him, we got more important things to solve right now.”
#Doctor Who#Doctor Who fanfic#dhawan!master#Dhawan!Master x reader#Dhawan!Master x you#sasha dhawan#Dhawan Master fanfic#The Master#Master x reader#Master x you#Dhawan master x reader#dhawan master x#Sacha Dhawan x reader#Sacha Dhawan x you#Doctor Who imagine#Dhawan Master imagine#Dhawan!Master imagine
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Can Our Love Survive? Ch. 19
Bucky Barnes x Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Words: 2086
Warning: Drug use-marijuana, talk of sex
A/N: I am so sorry about not sticking with my schedule. So, I’m not gonna say much, just let you read. Enjoy!
***TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES IS CLOSED***
The holidays came and went, and before you knew it, spring had almost sprung. Things had settled down and everyone found a routine that worked out, all of you doing your part to get things done. It wasn't all sunshine and roses, but the frustration was minimal and usually came from you and your twin and those things always worked themselves out.
Shortly after Bucky had moved in, he told your mom he wanted to get a job to help with the money situation. He knew having the extra person in the house would be a financial burden on her and he wanted to do his part. Sarah Rogers, the bad ass she was, was having none of that. “Your education is more important than a few extra dollars. I'll worry about the money, you worry about getting good grades,” she told him over dinner one evening. There was no winning against Sarah and the conversation was quickly dropped, never to be brought up again.
What none of you knew was Sarah Rogers was already receiving a check each month, courtesy of one George Barnes. When George returned from his getaway, Sarah went to the Barnes home and had a not so nice conversation with the deadbeat douche. Since George had abandoned and neglected his sixteen-year-old son, it was in his best interests to cooperate and pay monthly for his son’s expenses while staying in the Rogers home. George did not want Child Protective Services involved or anyone for that matter and he wasn’t about to have his image tarnished or his name slung through the mud, so letting the money go was the best way to not have to deal with his son and that’s something he could live with.
George also had no problem signing over guardianship of James to Sarah, having no desire to parent Bucky. Sarah was willing to step up and be legally responsible for the boy and felt he’d been neglected enough by the people that called themselves his parents. It was time an adult took an interest in him, nourishing and encouraging him along the way, making him aspire to achieve greatness and know his worth. Sarah Rogers would always go the extra mile for her kids, and she’d already accepted Bucky as one of her own.
March had just begun, and with that came Bucky's birthday. You were happy to spend his seventeenth birthday with him, but there was more to it than that. His birthday marked your five-month anniversary. It wasn't a six-month milestone people normally celebrated, but you wanted to make it special and memorable for the both of you.
It’d been five months and sex still hadn’t happened between you. Bucky was amazing at not pushing and letting you take the lead but it didn't mean all things were off the table. You've seen this dick, touching it and stroking him to orgasm, hand jobs becoming a normal occurrence in your bedroom. And in return, Bucky brought you to climax courtesy of his tongue and boy did he know how to use it! Your vagina had the pleasure of getting really acquainted with the masterpiece that was his mouth and he completely ruined you for anyone else in the future.
Even though you'd shared those intimacies, you still couldn't bring yourself to have penetrative sex. You'd tried several times, but it just wasn't happening. Bucky said it was okay, and was never upset, but you felt like a failure. How could you touch his cock and let him eat you out, but the moment his cock comes anywhere near your vagina, you freak! You needed help getting through this and needed someone to talk it out with.
Pulling out your phone, you went to your messages and brought up the conversation with your best friend, typing out a message and hitting send.
Y/N: Nat, I want to have sex with Bucky.
Nat: Well hello to you too, sunshine.
Y/N: Yeah, hi. Back to my original problem…..
Nat: Is that a question?
Y/N: Nat!!! Help me!!
Nat: You put the weed in the coconut and light that shit up.
Y/N: OMFG!! Fuck off… wait, you have weed?
Nat: *sigh* Well, unless you want to body swap, I'm pretty sure you're on your own.
Y/N: Ugh! Why are you so difficult?!
Nat: Because, I am the love of your life, (not Bucky. I've been with you longer), and the only one that puts up with the needy bitch you are.
Y/N: Then help me!!!!
Nat: You're so whiny. Take a fucking xanax already!
Y/M: I did, not helping!
Nat: Then eat a dick and shut your bitchy mouth.
Y/N: I can't… Bucky's not home!! And it's not my mouth that's talking, it's my fingers.
Nat: Then put them in your vag and leave me alone.
Y/N: Fine, you're not my BFF anymore. Guess I'll be giving myself to Bucky forever. You can no longer have my body when I die.
Nat: Shut up snatch, I'm on my way.
Y/N: Bring weed?
Nat shows up twenty minutes later, kisses you on the cheek and hands you a baggy. “DO NOT let your mom know! Momma Rogers will murder me!”
“I'll just blame it on Clint. He came over the other day smelling like skunk. Mom rushed them to the hospital and had ‘em drug tested. Steve's grounded by the way, if he didn't tell you already. He also lost his car for a month and mom is making him volunteer at the hospital.”
Nat shakes her head and the two of you head to your bedroom, locking the door behind you,
lighting some candles and opening the window. Nat takes a joint out of the bag and lights it up, inhaling deep and handing it over. You repeat the process and the two of you continue passing it back and forth, not saying a word until you feel the drug take over.
“So, you wanna have sex with Bucky.”
Nodding, you take another puff. “Fuck yeah, I do.” You pass the joint back to her.
“What's stopping you?”
“Brock.” The name just rolled off your tongue without hesitation, mostly due to being blazed.
“I'm gonna say some shit cause we're high as fuck and it’s the only way I can say it...” she stops and glares at you waiting for approval to continue and you nod, giving her the go ahead. “Stop letting that fucker control you!! Not every dick is Brock's and Bucky seems like he has a nice size cock-”
“It is very nice…,” you interrupt, “Oh! And big too!”
Nat looks at you annoyed. “Don't interrupt me. Will you just fuck your man already! Once you do, I promise, you'll never want to stop.”
You sit in silence and try to process her directness. “Ok, but how?”
Nat rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “I assume you know the logistics of fucking.” She takes another hit of the joint.
You sigh. “I can't just be like ‘hey Bucky, stick your dick in my vagina and fuck me!’”
“The fuck you can’t!” Nat raises her voice but then passes you the diminishing joint. “Just sit on his lap and ride him like the brahma bull he is.”
Taking another puff, you furrow your eyebrows, confusion evident on your face. “Wait… what's a brahma bull?”
Nat rolls her eyes hard. “You know, The Rock?!”
You shrug. “Don’t know him. Should I?”
“Oh, my fucking god, I can’t with you!” She bursts out laughing, doubling over from the intensity.
You sit on your bed, your high at its peak, and you stare at your best friend. There's something you need to ask and now seems like the best time not knowing if you’ll ever muster up the courage to ever say these words again. “Nat… why didn't you stop me?”
Your best friend stops and sits up, her face going slack. “Would you have listened?”
Nodding, you lower your head. That wasn’t the only question you had but for the next one you couldn’t look her in the eye. “How long, Nat?”
“I don't follow?”
You look up at her, your eyes meeting hers. “Don't play dumb… how long?”
Nat shakes her head. “Does it matter now?”
You reach out and place a hand on top of hers. “It matters to me.”
“It changes nothing, right?!” She lifts her head and sighs. “Since middle school. I've been in love with you since middle school. Happy now? How’d you even know?!”
“I’ve always kinda knew, just had a feeling. And you should've said something. Things would’ve been a lot different and that ass bag would never have happened.”
Nat smiles. “You wouldn't be with Bucky, because I’d never let you go.” She leans in and kisses your cheek, making you blush. “You deserve Bucky. He's your forever and I'm just your very best friend.”
Grabbing her face softly, you look her in the eyes. “You're more than my best friend and no one could ever replace you in my life. Without you, I'd be lost. Bucky may be my forever, but you have my soul.”
Nat grabs you and pulls you into a fierce hug. “I love you, принцесса.”
“I love you, too.” It comes out muffled.
There’s a knock at the door, making you jump out of Nat’s tight embrace. “Baby, you in there?!” Bucky’s voice comes from the other side.
“Fuck, Nat! Hide the shit!” Nat grabs the baggie and puts it in her jacket.
“Honey? You ok?” He knocks again and you hear him jiggle the doorknob.
“Just a second, I'm coming!” You yell at the door. “Spray my perfume!” You point to the bottle on your dresser and watch as she grabs it and begins spraying around the room.
You move to the door and open it to see your boyfriend standing there, a look of concern on his face. “Hi!” You say, the grin on your face not hiding anything.
Bucky eyes you and then Nat and inhales deeply. “Are you high?”
“Who me? I don't know what you're talking about?” You try to hold back a laugh, but it doesn't work. “It's her fault!” You point at Nat but turn back to see Bucky's mad face.
Nat shrugs. “Hey, I just supplied it, didn't tell you to smoke it.”
Bucky huffs and shakes his head. “You know if your mom finds out she'll give you a worse punishment than Steve, right?”
You wrap your arms around his neck and put your face close to his. “So, don't tell and I'll make it worth your while.” You lean in and kiss him softly.
Bucky rolls his eyes. “Better clean up and get the smell out. I'm not sleeping in here if it still stinks. I refuse to endure the wrath of Sarah Rogers.” He gives you a chaste kiss. “I'll go start dinner. Nat.” He tips his head and walks out, leaving you with your best friend.
“He sleeps in here now?” Nat asks and grabs her coat, putting it on.
“Yep. Told mom we weren't having sex because I wasn't ready. He told her it wasn't a deal breaker and he could wait. Guess it was enough.”
She chuckles. “And now you want to have sex. How fitting, just don't get caught.”
You smirk. “Do I ever?”
Nat rolls her eyes and stands up from the bed. “I'm gonna go. Give me a hug bitch!” Nat holds out her arms and you step into her embrace.
“Thanks for coming through and for the talk, but Bucky effectively killed my buzz.”
Nat laughs just a little, amused by your comment. “I'll see myself out, you rest. Sleep that shit off.” She starts to walk out of your room but stops in the doorway and turns back around. “You know you really didn’t need me to talk you through this. You’re ready for the next step. Stop doubting yourself. He’s not him, never will be. Get your man and make me proud.” She winks and then disappears through the door.
Throwing yourself on the bed you know she’s right. Bucky will never be Brock so there’s nothing to worry about. This time around it’ll mean something to both of you and things could never be as fucked up as it was when you both lost your virginity to other people. You’re ready and it’s time to give yourself completely to each other, and you know the perfect time and place to make that happen.
* принцесса-Princess
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#bucky barnes#james bucky barnes#james barnes#james buchanan barnes#bucky#bucky barnes x reader#james bucky barnes x reader#james barnes x reader#james buchanan barnes x reader#bucky x reader#natasha romanoff x reader bff#marijuana use#drug use#can our love survive#high school au#marvel#marvel au
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Chapter 2 of post season 5 Entrapdak Fic
Contains Angst and Hordak hating himself. I’m not sure where this fic is going but there is a made up scene I’ve had in my mind for like 3 months that I want these two to take part in involving water and I hope I can write it out as a future chapter because its really cute in my head.
Consciousness ebbed in and out of Hordak. He wanted to wake up each time the feeling came close. Each time he thought about reaching for consciousness his body begged him to stay in the nice warm bed that was far more comfortable than he remembered it to be when he had initially gotten into rest.
Something about the blanket over him now was so very soothing thus encouraging him to clutch it tighter. His fingers seemed to slip through it but with sleep weighing down his strength he felt no need to investigate the reason why. Either way the blanket seemed to get tighter around him despite his failed attempt at pulling it in snugger around himself.
His ears twitched as he fell into a deeper relaxed state. This is heavenly. The thought came but just as it did he suddenly shot open his eyes. His body stiffened as he realized he had let himself relax far too deeply. He always tried to minimize his vulnerability even when it came to sleep. Not remembering where he was even if it was only for mere minutes made him feel exposed and at risk. His eyes tried to adjust but it was very dim in the room. His hearts began to race and he started to breath heavily as panic set in. He gritted his teeth as he tried to stifle a growl of frustration.
Hordak proceeded to sit up and ball his fists together. He couldn’t hold in his frustration any longer and with one hand clawed at the sheets he found himself on while the other hand clawed at the pillow his head had been resting on. As he tore the silk sheets and pillows he let out a growl. With that his blanket grew snugger almost like a caressing gesture. Hordak’s eyes glowed deeper in the dim lighting as they grew wider. He froze once more for several heartbeats this time as he recalled the prior night's events. Entrapta had stayed by his side to comfort him….but she had made a chair for herself to do so. However he was positive she was no longer by the bed but rather in the bed.
To confirm his suspicions he heard a small noise escape the small body beside him. He felt the blanket tighten around him again. Hordak looked down as his eyes continued to readjust themselves. His face grew a deep crimson as he realized his blanket was actually Entrapta’s hair.
“Mmhm.” Entrapta stirred beside him.
He had no idea what to do...he couldn’t go back to sleep now. This was surely a mistake. He was positive Entrapta would be just as embarrassed as he if she realized they were like this. She must of been too tired last night to go to her room and accidentally fallen asleep after helping him. But he couldn’t bear thinking of waking her or even tapping her shoulder now. He wouldn’t want to cause her any embarrassment.
“Mmhm Hordak…”, she said softly. He looked at her but her eyes were still closed. “Entrapta?” He asked.
Her eyes shot open. “Hordak!” She yelped as she sat up hastily. Her hair loosened around him and quickly collected to her side of the bed.
“I’m so-sorry! I was really tired yesterday and…” Entrapta struggled for words. Hordak intervened, “ I can understand that. You do not need to explain yourself. I should be apologizing.”
“You? But why?” Entrapta asked.
“I am the cause of this embarrassing situation for you. You should not have needed to aid me this evening.” Hordak said with a hint of disgust aimed at himself.
“No, no. There is nothing wrong with that Hordak. You’ve been through a lot these last couple of weeks. It’s only been a few days since” she paused trying not to directly mention Prime. “Since...I got my lab partner back…”
Hordak’s ears went down and his expression was soft yet also confused. He was at a loss for words. Before things could get awkward Entrapta blurted “Oh! But I do think you mean yesterday evening. You probably noticed it’s a little dark here right?”
“Yes it’s quite dim...I was under the impression it was the middle of the night?”
Entrapta let out a squeal of delight. “I wanted to show you this last night but with getting back into Dryl there was just so much to sort through first treaties, trading and so on which of course there still is much to agree on but I’ll worry about that later now…”
Entrapta fumbled under the bed and Hordak heard the ripping of Velcro. “There it is!” Entrapta giggled. “The lack of lamps or artificial light sources are on purpose because of this!” she continued excitedly.
From what he could make out she had a remote in her hand she pushed a couple buttons and boom the ceiling began moving. It was opening up to reveal the morning sky. “I’ll leave the tinted glass layer up so it gives your eyes time to adjust. But you should see this at night!”
“It does seem...entertaining.”
“You like it?”
“I-I do and as you say I think it would be more enjoyable with the night sky.”
“Ooh so could we do this tonight?” She asked him eagerly. Hordak felt his cheeks getting warm again. “I would like to look at the stars with you here if you wouldn’t mind.” Entrapta added.
“Ah, of course not,” Hordak mentally cursed himself for fumbling over his words. “That is- what I mean to say is...I would not mind it at all. However do you mean here?” Hordak added pointing down at the bed. “Like this?”
“Oh I’m sorry again!” Entrapta said stumbling out of the bed. “This was probably a little much for you. I will keep my hair to myself this time! So you won’t have to worry about that. I’ll stay wide awake and I’ll leave before I get tired.”
Hordak struggled to reply back. He wanted to tell her he didn’t mind her touches...he liked them. He just didn’t know how to reciprocate. It felt unnatural most of the time. “I enjoy...your presence and I don’t mind our proximity.”
“You do?” Entrapta said.
“Well, yes.” Hordak replied a little flabbergasted with himself for being straightforward for once. Entrapta climbed back on the bed and laid on her side facing him now. He stared at her a little wide eyed for a few seconds. But then continued, “I simply was curious on what you meant exactly as to not lead to any miscommunication.”
“I would tell you if you made me uncomfortable or if something bothered me Hordak. And I would hope you would too?” She said as she rested her chin on a bundle of hair bright eyes wholesomely on Hordak. Entrapta proceeded to place a hand gently over his. Hordak fought back the urge for his ears to drop down which would ultimately give away the light blush dusting his cheeks.
“I am comfortable with these kinds of gestures from you. I apologize if I appear, I believe the word is cold, however. That is not my intention...but reciprocating touch is-” Hordak paused wanting to find the best word to describe all the thoughts and emotions when he thinks about indulging in similar gestures of affection towards her. How could he describe the fears and frustrations that pile up in him and cause him to freeze instead?
“Difficult?” Entrapta offered as she squeezed his hand lightly. That would do for now. “Yes.” He replied with a sigh.
“Well we can work on that together!...I don’t really enjoy being touched sometimes...or in the manner that most Etherians just brush off as normal.” Entraptas voice had dropped on the last part. She had also averted her gaze now. Hordak turned his whole body now to better face her and so that he was laying on his side just as she was.
“Entrapta.” He called out to her. She looked at him, his knitted brows and frown gentler then how he would wear if he were furious with a subordinate. It was mainly concern and worry that produced such an expression but a glint of fury did glow somewhere in his eyes that were still green from reconditioning.
“I find most Etherians to be backwards creatures and the ones who say anything ill about you are nothing more than imbeciles, nimrods, and lowly cretins!” Hordak proclaimed loudly.
“Shh-sh.” Entrapta said fumbling on the bed and trying to suppress some laughter while pressing her hands against his mouth now. She glanced at the door then back at Hordak. He raised a brow while her hands were still covering his mouth. She pulled her hands away and put them behind her back. She sat on her folded knees thus still leaving her slightly lower than Hordak.
“I appreciate the meaning behind your statement!” She added quickly. “I just don’t think “most” Etherians would appreciate being called such things or tolerate it.” Hordak crossed his arms and laid his head back on the torn pillow. Entrapta lifted her arms in somewhat of a shrug gesture. “And, we sort of are supposed to be in peace times now so we probably shouldn’t give any of the other kingdoms a reason to start any squabbles with ours.”
Hordak huffed. “I understand. As such I will refrain from saying such things bu-” Hordak stopped mid sentence putting a hand to his head as if just remembering something. “Buuut?” Entrapta asked quizzically. “You said...ours. As in our Kingdom?”
“Oh yeah. I did. Well it seems fitting now that you live here with me.”
“I am only a...guest.” Hordak replied sternly while looking off distantly.
“Oh...I won’t use terms like that. I’m sorry if it bothered you.” Entrapta added softly.
This kingdom wasn’t his no matter how Entrapta made him feel. Through force it had been his at one point. Now however, he wanted to distance himself from those past actions. Something inside him felt it would be wrong for him to be tied to her Kingdom of Dryl even if only through her innocent words. He suddenly felt Entrapta’s hand beside his head resting on the silky pillow. She was examining the torn fabric now finally having noticed them.
“What happened here?” she asked, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. She looked at Hordak now. “Are you alright?” she asked, her tone brimming with concern. Hordak wondered why he would have imagined Etheria’s greatest scientific mind would have failed to figure out he was the cause of the torn pillow and sheets.
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