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...I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I did die that day.
Would my soul live with the guilt that I attacked Randy? I mean sure, not willingly but still...
How would have Kairoz reacted...?
I should really stop thinking about this stuff...
My eye hurts still so much. Why does the chaos keep spreading.
what is this … pain… ?
Our Last Dance
Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader
Natasha x Fem! x Yelena (Adopted Siblings)
High School Sweethearts AU
Fluffy, but definitely Angst with no happy ending
Warnings: Sick!!! Reader, Drugs, Saying Goodbye, Grief, Cancer diagnosis, Car accident…
Smut: Fingering (W), Marking (R/W)
————————————————————
| Puny | Powerless | Weak |
The same set of words you’d repeatedly heard in your youth; every single time you were looked over by prospective parents, or picked upon by the other kids in The Red Room—the orphanage, it was just affirmed in your mind.
A tragic start doesn’t necessarily equate to a bad life though, because after five years of being alone in there you’d found your saving graces in the delinquent labeled pair of Russian’s that had been ruthlessly dropped off by another set of useless parents.
—————
Natalia Romanov—the buff redhead with piercing green eyes, she was twice your age, nearly double your size, and the older of the two girls; Yelena Belova—the quiet blonde, eyes of varying shades, she’d appeared lean under her monotone attire, but much to everyone’s shock she packed quite the punch.
They were blank faced when they’d arrived, their eyes full of mystery, and a deep rooted pain that’s expertly masked to the average onlooker. Silently they’d observed you, a shocking sense of pity consuming them when saw you being mistreated by all parties.
Though they felt bad they kept their distance, never engaging in such bullying tactics, but also regretfully turning a blind eye to it. It wasn’t until one of the boys—Brad, had attempted to pick on Yelena while Natasha was nowhere to be found that they took you in. Sure she could handle herself, but you weren’t aware of this, so when the irritating boy had approached her you’d immediately intercepted. He’d pulled on her braid, and in an act of childhood bravery you’d shoved the boy.
“Oh, if it isn’t little old Y/N, the unwanted one. Beat it would ya!”
Stuttering as you do, you responded to the boy,“Leave her alone Brad!,” puffing your tiny chest out to appear tough, but falling short as you really just looked beyond adorable.
Yelena had never heard your voice before, it was an equal match to your stature, you were soft spoken, there was also this innocence that carried your words, and in that moment the blonde felt it was her job to protect you from anything that could ever do you harm again. Natasha’s response was much the same as she saw what happened from the corner, and as the boy went to approach you she followed suit.
Yelena was quick to yank you behind her body, but before she could lay the smack down on him Natasha already had him up against the faded walls by the collar of his shirt.
“Do not touch them, big mistake if you do.” Her raspy accented voice filled the space around all of you, the threat glaringly obvious, and the fear it elicited even more so as the boy’s eyes widened and his body scurried away once his feet were back on the ground.
Natasha turned to face her sister, glancing over her shoulder at you with a spine chilling smirk. With relative ease she lifted you up by your armpits, and settled you on her hip, “Welcome to the pack malen'kiy volk.,” and from that day forward the words had reigned true. (Little wolf)
When a burly man, and his petite counterpart entered the orphanage one day it was clear to you that your found sisters were likely leaving. The mans’s loud, booming Russian accent a dead giveaway to you, plus the accompanying ‘Do you have any Russian girls for us?’ sealed it in. His wife had quickly slapped his arm, which immediately shut him up, then in her clearest way she’d said much to the same effect, but in a way less creepy way.
Natasha and Yelena had been playing a riveting game of ‘Arm Wrestling for chocolate,’ which was really just their way of taking candy from the cocky little boys while also knocking them down a few pegs. Neither of them had even noticed the couple at the front desk, but Yelena did however notice your saddened expression, and the sudden flow of tears soaking your pillow while your frail body lay atop the cot.
“Natasha.”
The redhead looked up to her sister while she effortlessly slammed the brunette boys hand against the table before popping his rations of chocolate into her mouth, and smirking once his sobs were audible. Then she realized it wasn’t him crying, but you, and the game was brought to an end.
“These two here come as a package deal, Natalia and Yelena, as Russian as they get.” The clerk mutters, annoyance at having to do her job clear as day, and the girls blink up at the couple in their way on their journey to you.
“They’re perfect! We take.” The man boasts, and both girls cringe when crumbs from his beard fall atop their shirts.
“Hi girls, I am Melina, and this is my pig of a husband Alexei.” She greets, hand reaching out to wipe them clean, but they collectively wince away from her touch.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you girls uncomfortable.”
“We will go with you, but only if Y/N comes.” Natasha commands, Yelena at her side firmly nodding while grabbing her sisters hand.
“Y/N? No, you two will go with whomever is willing to take you, they wanted strong Russian girls, and that’s what you are. There’s no negotiating in adoption, go collect your things.” The clerk dismisses them in a furious state, but neither girl even flinches, instead they continue to look passed her and at you who’d apparently fallen asleep.
Melina winces as the woman beside her speaks so poorly to them, clearly disregards you as not worthy, and this had intrigued the woman who’d once been in your same shoes.
“No, we wish to see this Y/N at once.” Melina announces, elbowing her husband before he could rebut the notion as they’d really only come here for one kid.
Yelena took her interest as a basis for trust, dropping her sisters hand she slips hers into her prospective mother’s, then without a word she guides her towards your sleeping form.
“This is Y/N, nash malen'kiy volk, we protect her, and she loves us.” Yelena announces, hand tenderly landing on your face, thumbs wiping the remnants of your tears away, and your eyes flutter open at the contact. (Our little wolf)
“Y/N, this Melina,—.”
Tears brim your eyes once more as you manage to whisper, “Your new mama… I know..,” over a lip that betrays you as it trembles.
“Our.” Natasha corrects you as she sits down on your cot, and protectively pulls you into her.
“Would you like that malen'kiy?” Melina coos, hands hesitantly reaching out for you, and Natasha allows her to pick you up, but her protective stance never falters. (Little one)
“You want to be my mama?” You whimper, and the older Russian guides your crying face into her neck, and sways you around soothingly.
“Da malen’kiy...” … ”We take all three.”
Everything went up for you after that day, Melina took you under her wing, and the both of you geeked out over her work at the lab, while your sisters much preferred engaging in the world of sports with Alexei. Melina worked closely with you over the years to improve your physical form, helpfully tailoring your diet without any type of restrictions, while also finding the perfect fitness regimen to aide you in defining your body as you wished.
Those same words now repeat in your mind though as you stare down at the paper in your hands, the one confirming the fear that’s been plaguing your mind for the last year, and after your interaction with Natasha last month you’d had no choice but to get said confirmation.
•~~~~~~~~~~~•—•~~~~~~~~~~~•
Tommy and Lily had been begging your wife and you to sign them up for soccer for months, but with the demands of your jobs you’d been unable to fulfill their requests until today. Work had slowed, and you finally had the energy to train with them, or so you thought you did, but now you’re not so sure.
The twins were running circles around you, and the amount of water breaks you needed had thrown you off. Sure, you hadn’t been to the gym in a couple months, but there’s no way in hell you were this bent out of shape. After only thirty minutes you were tapping out, taking a seat on the bleacher while the two continued to play some one on one.
Natasha had agreed to help you, something you’d forgotten about, but when she arrived she decided to lurk in the shadows for a bit. She’d wanted to give you some fun mommy bonding time before she wiped the field with you, but then she noticed you struggling, and all she felt was concerned at the sight of you. It was clear to her that you’d lost weight, an unnatural amount for only two months apart, and the light jog across the field shouldn’t have made you so winded, nor lightheaded as she clearly inferred from when you shakily sat down on the bleachers
‘Russian spy in another life’ is what your father always used to grumble when she’d catch him with cookie crumbs in his beard after he lied about finishing off the pack.
You were in your own world, laying flat on the bench with an arm draped over your eyes in the hopes that it would help to calm your beating heart. So you failed to notice your sister approaching, and there’s no way you’d hear her quiet footsteps, she’s of course classically trained to have a light step.
“Y/N/N…”
You jumped up, nearly falling off the bench with your hand clutching your chest, and Natasha rolled her eyes at your display.
“Natasha, when did you get here?”
“Four o’clock, as we agreed upon.”
“It’s five…” You said while skeptically eyeing her over your watch.
“I know, I’ve been observing.”
Something about her tone makes you uneasy, it’s not the playful one that accompanies a day with her niece and nephew.
“Y/N, we need to talk.”
There it is…
“Well the kids need us to train them, can it wait?”
Natasha’s firm hold on your shoulders keeps you sat, then she kneels in front of you as to not look so intimidating as she speaks.
“Something is wrong with you.”
You scoff, “Natasha, get over yourself, I’m fine.,” but still her hold is too tight, and as her words reign true you have no fight in you.
“We both know that’s not true… How long?”
A few tears slip down your cheek, then you take a shaky breath in before whispering your secret, “a little over a year…,” groaning as her nails dig into your shoulder.
“Why didn’t you—.”
“Keep it down Natalia, the kids don’t need to be unnecessarily spooked.”
“Why didn’t you say something?
“We all have things we don’t talk about…”
“Why not go to the doctors then?”
“I’m scared…”
“Don’t you get it? You should be scared! Look at all that you have to lose, how could you be so fucking selfish?”
“I’m sorry…”
Natasha chances a look back at the giggling kids, heart effectively breaking as the reality of it all dawns on her, then her anger settles as she takes in how broken you are up close.
“I know you are malen'kiy volk.” Natasha resigns, pulling your trembling form into her lap, and running a soothing hand down your back while being grateful your innocent children were so preoccupied.
“I’ll seek help..” You whisper against her chest, and she places a kiss to your forehead while maintaining her soothing.
•~~~~~~~~~~~•—•~~~~~~~~~~~•
Tears smudge the ink, but the words remain clear as day: Stage 4 Metastatic cancer of the Lungs, with tumors that have spread to the brain/heart.
Prognosis: Less than 6 months.
Treatment: Chemotherapy an option to prolong life expectancy, Immunotherapy, but the progression is too far along to be curative.
“Fuck…”
——
“Honey, I’m home!! Are the twins with you?”
Panic fills your weakened body at your wife’s call, your head currently hanging over the toilet bowl as you continue to vomit up stomach acid. What had started as a blinding headache rolled directly into waves of nausea, and now you were left to fight it off for the sake of your wife’s naivety to your month old diagnosis.
“They’re with Lena, she took them to that new soccer field for some much needed practice.” You manage to shout down the stairs, then swiftly shut the door to remain in your secret awhile longer, using the running shower to cover up the sounds of your retching and leaving Wanda none the wiser.
Wanda Maximoff—the woman who’d always loved you as you were, and the same one you promised you’d never leave behind…
She’s had it just as rough as you, if not more so, having lost both her parents in her early youth, to then losing her twin brother right before Junior year of high school. You had went from having nothing to something to everything, and she’d oppositely paralleled you.
Wanda’s obviously no stranger to loss, but having to tell her she’d soon be a widowed mother of two in her early thirties felt overtly cruel, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned in this life it’s that nothing is ever fair.
After your nausea subsided enough for you to get off the floor you shakily moved around, brushing your teeth before throwing yourself into bed, thoughts of finally telling everyone what’s going on tomorrow, absolutely dreading having to break the hearts of your family, but knowing it was absolutely the right thing to do.
——
Wanda was off to work before you’d even had a chance to enjoy your mug of tea, she’d kissed your cheek then lips as she told you she’d run the kids to school, hurrying them out the door the next instant, and leaving you behind a bit confused. She’d seemed rather jumpy, and if not for the debilitating headache encroaching your mind you’d have stopped her to check in.
Truth be told she’d known something was wrong with you for awhile now, but just the same as you she just didn’t want to believe it could be true, but after last week’s love making it’d been all but confirmed.
•~~~~~~~~~~~•—•~~~~~~~~~~~•
After an exhausting day in the office, where you no longer worked, but just stared at photos of your family while putting together a handful of painful goodbyes, and handling your final affairs all you’d wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for a hundred years.
Upon entering your house though you realized your wife had other plans in mind, and you were too afraid to turn her away, because up until this point your sex life had been healthy. The house was cloaked in a layer of darkness, the playlist you’d curated together lightly playing, and your wife was cooking in nothing but her red silk robe as the kids were at a friends house.
Wanda and you usually took every free moment to make love, or occasionally engage in a quickie, because truth be told your wife was beyond beautiful and it was hard for either of you to keep your hands to yourself. So when she runs over to you, robe exposing to you her perfect physique you can’t fight the arousal pooling in your exhausted body.
“Welcome home my love.” She whispers against your lips, wasting no time she wraps her arms around your neck and slams her own to yours.
Your arms wrap around her waist, pulling her flush against your own body, and relishing in the feeling of having her close, but also being mindful of the way that your lungs ached beyond normalcy so you pulled back, allowing her lips to travel elsewhere while you tried to steady your breathing.
Wanda eventually pulled back, unknowingly appreciating the way your chest heaved over the simplest of her touches, and with quick hands the women shut the stove off then dragged your aching form up the stairs. Nimble hands were all over the place, ripping the buttons of your low cut flannel shirt clean off before pushing it all the way off your shoulders, and exposing your chest to her.
The want to be touched just wasn’t there for you anymore, but the need to please your wife would forever be, so before she could try to take you you flipped the script. Taking the initiative you swiftly spun her around, then threw her onto the bed, willfully ignoring the way your head pounded in the process as you removed the final pieces of her clothing.
You were into it, of course you were, but that didn’t make your movements less sluggish. Pumping your fingers into her at the only pace you could keep up with, shoving your face into her neck as you panted unusually hard, and successfully avoided the usual kiss that would leave you dangerously breathless.
Wanda was so consumed by the pleasure rolling through her body in the moment that she’d overlooked the way your lips had evaded hers, and how your normally healthy skin had lost its luster as her nails painfully dug into it, or the way that your bones were starting to protrude against the skin in ways they’d never done before.
With a few final expert curves, and with a delicious pressure applied to both her clit and pulse point she came crashing into her orgasm fairly hard. Walls clinging to your fingers for dear life as her entire body trembled beneath you, and as hot as it all was you couldn’t wait for it to be over. The alarm bells only began to ring for her when you’d rolled off of her in a overtly breathless manner.
Normally you’d be giddily anticipating another round, better yet you’d be begging for her to take you next, but your eyes were closed tight, and your breaths had all but evened out. Wanda finally noticed just how different you looked in this moment, it was truly clarifying for her, and in a way earth shattering.
“I love you Y/N… My beautiful, healthy wife..” She quietly whispers her falsehoods against your skin, lips gently landing on your own before she cuddles up to you in a desperate attempt to keep you close.
•~~~~~~~~~~~•—•~~~~~~~~~~~•
Truth is Wanda didn’t go to work, she actually hadn’t been going to work all week, she’d been dropping the kids at school, then driving herself to the library for researching purposes. Mistakenly hopeful that the diagnosis she’d stumbled upon when you were sleeping one afternoon last weekend could be reversed.
Since you couldn’t tell your wife and kids before they took off you decided to start with your found family instead, collecting all your paperwork you jumped into the car and drove the hour out to your parents farm, your sisters texts confirming their arrival popping up as you drove, and you took the extra long route for a few extra moments of peace.
Parking your car behind Natasha’s you gazed upon the quaint little home you’d experienced countless years of joy in, an uneasiness soon plaguing your already sick body as you slowly made your way to the door. It swung open before you could even reach for the knob and Yelena pulled you into her tight embrace, causing your manila envelope to hit the floor.
“Sorry Y/N/N, I’ll pick it up.”
Melina’s next to pull you into her embrace, arms encircling the entirety of you, and her heart immediately stills, a gut instinct telling her this isn’t natural, and so she pulls back to inspect you closely. Hands cup your cheeks, feeling how the natural chub had melted away, but before she could scold you for not eating enough Yelena’s voice cut through, “what is all of this?”
You sighed, falling forward into your dad before ushering everyone to sit on the couch. Natasha the last one to take a seat as she herself wanted to make sure you made it into your own, and the tension only thickened at the obvious concern.
“Natasha, you’re being awfully quiet.” Melina, ever the perceptive one points out, and you cut in to save your sister the unfair scolding.
“Mama, don’t start… I’m here because…”
“You have cancer.” She cuts you off, needing to say it aloud herself before you were to confirm it.
“Ha! That’s ludicrous, cancer doesn’t even run in the family! Y/N is fine, just a joke right?” Alexei humorously deflects in a panic, no one having the energy to remind the big oaf that genetically there’s no tie here, and you just smile sadly his way.
“Look, I have been—.”
“Fine, you’ve been fine. It simply isn’t true.” Yelena cuts you off next, somehow thinking that if you don’t say it, then it just can’t be true.
Natasha watches you sink into the couch you’re on, anger prominently coursing through her at the way your collective family is behaving. Not that she’d been any better two months ago when she yelled at you in the park, but even then she pulled herself together fast and was able to comfort you as you needed.
“It’s true.” Natasha proclaims, everyone’s eyes shifting to her and she grimaces at the varying shades of betrayal that befall upon her, Yelena’s the most painful of them all.
Yelena jumps up off the couch, finger jabbing into Natasha’s chest as she shrieks, “You knew! You fucking knew and didn’t tell me!” Alexei jumping in right behind her as he grumbled in Russian, and Melina just sat there in silence. You on the other hand felt as if you were about to vomit, with every rehearsal of this moment you’re not sure why you didn’t account for this.
While they continued to bicker back and forth your eyes were tightly shut, junked up lungs straining to pull the necessary oxygen into your body to keep it upright, and so you fell forward, crashing into the coffee table, glass overlay shattering under your weight.
Melina was first to jump into action, pushing you back into your seat, and watching fearfully as you coughed without an end in sight. Your weak hands pitifully clawed at your shirt, desperately trying to ground yourself, and everyone in the room was in a fit of tears as they helplessly watched you struggling.
Yelena was next to try and help, hand harshly slamming into your back, cringing at the far too detailed feeling of your spine under her. Natasha was the only one who managed to speak, whispering a lullaby she’d once used to sing to you in the hopes that psychology could break you from this fit of coughs.
After what felt like an hour, but was only five minutes you’d fallen out of the fit, and instead into a far less scary fit of wheezing. Everyone took their place back on the couch, each one overlooking a piece of paper you brought while you worked to just breathe again. Eyes slowly trailed up, one by one, to look for answers in your own lackluster set, you offered them a tight lipped smile as to avoid the grizzly sight that was your bloody teeth.
You took a necessary sip of water, the metallic taste continuing to linger, but you digressed.
“Mama, you first.”
“When did the symptoms start? Why—.”
“One at a time please; a little over a year ago, I noticed it was abnormally hard for me to breathe when Lena and I shared a joint on the roof at her 34th birthday party.”
Melina fixed a glare onto your blonde sister, then continued with her questions, most of them scientific in nature, and you’d answered them all while your family just nodded along as if they understood you two.
“Papa…”
“You going to be okay right? That was scary, but there’s medicine to fix you right?”
“No papa, I found out too late..”
Yelena cuts in,“How long?,” her reminiscent mask back up, but just as before you see right through to the hurt, and it’s like she’s that broken seven year old little girl in desperate need of love again, and you absolutely hate that you’ve put her in this predicament.
“Five months, give or take…”
After your daunting confession the room fell silent, everyone taking a moment to process exactly what you’d said. Yelena stood from her place on the couch and you were certain she was going to leave, but when she settles into your lap instead you sigh in relief.
“I’m so sorry Lena…”
“I’m sorry too…” She sobs against your chest, and you just hold her as tightly as you can, mumbling your ‘I love you’s’ over and over in the hopes that it’ll fix her broken heart, but knowing the phrase was nothing more than a place holder for what she really needed—time.
Natasha walked you out to the car, hand steadying you as you walked, and upon reaching the car she pulled you in for a bear hug, and you did your best to return it.
“Do you need me there for when you tell Wanda and the kids?”
“Thank you Natty, but no, I think it’s only fair I give them the same treatment…”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right… Call me if you need anything Y/N/N, even if it’s two am.”
You gasp, “Natasha Romanoff, did you just willingly allow me to call you at two am?”
“I never said I’d answer.” She teases right back, and when she relinquishes her hold on you she notices your glossy eyes and she leans forward to settle her forehead against yours.
“I love you Y/N…”
“I love you too Tasha.” You lightly sob, then move away to enter your car, handing over a box full of important documents to your unsuspecting sister, then quickly shoving the keys into the ignition.
“Drive safe…”
—
While driving back towards your house you were going over what it is you’d say to your dearly beloved, and your two greatest accomplishments, and no matter what you came up with it consistently fell flat.
How does one look their happy go lucky twelve year olds in the eye and tell them their mama isn’t going to be around for much longer?
Better yet, how do you tell the love of your life that she’s about to lose her life partner, and be left behind to finish raising your kids?
As you went to turn right onto your street a truck came barreling down the road, uncaring of the residential speed limits, and even more so of the stop sign they just ran right through. You’d tried to stop yourself from going further, but they still managed to clip the front of your car, sending you spinning until the drivers side of your car smashed into a telephone pole, and your thoughts were put on hold as darkness filled your already fleeting mind.
—
Wanda ran into the hospital like a chicken with its head cut off, your name shouted at the front desk lady who just stared at her for a moment. Wanda had already called your family, and your sisters were on the way, while your parents remained back promising instead to pick up the twins from school.
After a long bit of back and forth Wanda is ushered off to room 304 in the ICU, being told that in your state your body was too weak for any extraordinary measures, and she was gone before they could tell her to prepare to say her goodbyes.
Upon entering the room she feels as the wind is knocked out of her, faint beeping all that fills the space, and your once strong body lies there so unbelievably broken before her. The sobs wrack her body within an instant as she steps even closer, your eye’s straining to open, but eventually managing to do so as you will them to for the sake of your wife.
“Wanda…” Your frail hand reaches up to brush her tears away, eyes roaming the expanse of her distraught face, then your chapped lips smack together as you work to ask her for one final thing, “One last dance my love?”
•~~~~~~~~~~~•—•~~~~~~~~~~~•
Wanda was sat in the quad as she waited for the school day to start, pencil to the paper as she pretended to be interested in sketching, but really she was just waiting for you to get the nerve to finally approach her over staring. You’d been dancing around one another since a month into meeting one another sophomore year, and it was painful for your sisters to observe from afar, which is why Yelena was in the process of coaching you, and Natasha was sat in the car rubbing away a migraine.
“Don’t ask, tell her she’s going to prom with you, girls like it when you take control.”
“No, Y/N, for god’s sake don’t do that! Yelena get in the car… Y/N/N, just be yourself, and ask her—she’s literally not going to say no.”
“How do you know?”
“Trust me—the one who’s actually in a relationship, not doofus over here who’s still pining herself over the Bishop girl.”
“I’m playing hard to get..” Yelena grumbles, but pipes down at the glare Natasha sends.
Natasha winks at you as she tosses over your lunchbox, “Go get ‘em tiger,” is the last thing you hear before she tears off in her corvette. You take a steadying breath, your fingers reflexively tightening around your backpack straps before you make quick work of approaching the Sokovian of your dreams.
Wanda smiles behind her book, then drops into a rather neutral expression when you sit beside her, eyes trailing up at a leisurely pace as to not give way to her giddy anticipation.
“Hey Y/N/N…”
“Wands…” You cooly greet back, shyly smiling at her as your feet sway into the brick your sat atop of.
“So, I was actually wondering if you’d like to go to prom with me, as my date, but if you don’t want to that’s chill, we could even go as just friends, unless you already were going with someone but I think I’d know that…”
“No.”
Your heart skips a bit at her quick dismissal, “Oh, that’s fine too, I’m going to head to class.” Quickly jumping up you attempt to move away but Wanda’s hand spins you back around to face her, slowly she rises until your nose to nose.
“That’s not how you ask a girl to prom Y/N/N, try again…”
“Should I have just commanded you to go?” You whisper into the thin space between you.
She snorts, “absolutely not, come on, I know you can figure it out,” then she walks away leaving you to ponder what’s to be done.
—
After a tireless weekend spent using Yahoo and Google interchangeably for your research you fell back onto your bed in a huff having come up with nothing to asking a girl to prom. Your sisters were equally as stumped when you told them, but seeing as how neither had gone to their own prom it was a hopeless case to ask them for help anyways.
Then you had a sudden epiphany, grabbing your gel pens, and an unused board for one of your school projects you quickly got to work. Sending off a cryptic text to Wanda on your flip phone once you finished, just hoping that you weren’t making a fool of yourself. You then convinced Alexei to let you borrow the truck, and he only relinquished the keys after you painfully listened to his ill informed attempt at the ‘birds and the bees.’
Wanda had been sat by her phone all weekend waiting for you to try again, part of her now regretting ever saying no in fear that you’d just asked someone else out because it would be easier. She was sat on her aunt’s couch sketching a photo of you from memory when her phone buzzed, and the pencil dropped from her hand, then the sketchbook from her lap when she jumped up in a fit of squeals.
Wanda had changed into her signature outfit, a pastel pink colored skater skirt, with a dingy punk band t-shirt that was half tucked in, with the other half loosely hanging out. Her nails were painted jet black, fingers were covered in various rings, and her face was done up nice. A corresponding pink adorning her lips, cheeks, and eyelids, while the remainder of her eye makeup was black. Then after spritzing herself with the perfume she knew drove you wild she took off on her scooter.
You had decorated your fathers truck bed, settling a blanket down to make it less bleak, you then layered it with all of Wanda’s favorite snacks, in the center was a boombox playing off a mixed cd you’d burnt for her of ‘06, and this years greatest pop-punk hits.
Pacing the field of Westview’s finest park you can’t help but to hear your internal monologue screaming at you to drive away, but the not so distant crunching of dead grass beneath familiar combat boots tells you it’s too late. Your sweaty hands grab the board, and without much consideration for rehearsal you awkwardly lift the sign above your head, and wait for Wanda to hopefully appreciate the effort.
“We're going down, down in an earlier round
And sugar, we're going out dancing.
I'll be your number one with a corset.
A loaded god complex, fuck it and say yes..”
Wanda’s truly stunned at the spectacle before her, she’d hoped for you to just bring her flowers or candy, and to ask less nervously. Instead she got you pulling all the stops for her, and using her interests as a means for creativity, and it makes her want to burst into tears, while also pulling you in for a kiss.
Her silence terrified you, because if this wasn’t it, then you’d had no idea what else to do, so you took a deep breath in before trying again, “Wanda Maximoff, would you be interested in accompanying me to prom as my date?”
Wanda smiles at you, the cheeky one that usually is followed up by a ridiculous quip,“Well Y/N/N, I’m thinking I’ll have to go with yes, because going without you I know I’d be Miserable at Best…”
You giggle at her playing into your little musical play on words game, then you set the board down in the truck before you’re taking a confident step towards her, and continuing, “Yeah? We both know you’re not much into the business of misery…”
Wanda launches into your waiting arms, heart absolutely soaring at your adorable nature, and you just hold her close while your beaming smile never fades.
—
The night of the dance was magical, Wanda had stunned you when she showed up to your house in a modest red dress that fell to her knees, but still managed to accentuate her perfect physique in a deliciously tasteful way. You’d dressed up to match her in one of Natasha’s many suits, then Melina bombarded you both for a never ending flash of photos.
Once you’d entered the stuffy arena full of underage idiots you’d paved a way for your date and you to reach the punch table. Wanda watched in amusement as you spit the liquid back into the cup, because no matter how many times you’d accidentally sipped on your Russian father’s vodka you’d never get used to the bitter taste or the unwelcome burn.
“Jeezus, that was disgusting.” You whine, and Wanda notices how you’ve picked up on and adopted your blonde sisters accent for the most random of phrases.
“Yeah, totally.” She teases you, slamming the glass back in one fluid motion before dragging you off to a corner for the preferred privacy.
The music in the place is decent, definitely a nice blend between the mainstream and the classics, but you could tell Wanda was a bit underwhelmed, so you happily resorted to Plan B, pulling your iPod nano from your pocket, and watching as her eyes light up once you settle a earbud into her ear, and settle the device in your suit pocket after selecting the playlist of your choice: “Wanda <3”
The night is a blur of jumping around, and being absolutely bat shit crazy up until the moment your device dies, but the fun doesn’t end as Wanda drags you outside, and shares with you a special sort of greenery meant to ‘enlighten’ your mind, and within minutes you’ve dissolved into a giggling mess.
“Near, far, wherever you are…”
“Oh my gosh! Wanda, if you love me you’ll slow dance with me to this song, it’s one of my favorites!”
Wanda pays no mind to the words you said, true as they may be she’d never admit it while under the influence—it’s be too cheap, but she does extend her hand out for you to take, giggling wildly as you pull her back inside to dance amongst the sweaty student body. Fortunately, most of them found no interest in a song they couldn’t grind against each other to, so it was just the two of you and a handful of couple out there.
“Love can touch us one time
And last for a lifetime
And never let go 'til we're gone
Love was when I loved you
One true time I'd hold to
In my life, we'll always go on”
Your stare is intense as the lyrics loudly play, definitely fueled by the drugs, but more so by your unwavering affinity for the beautiful girl stood before you, the same one who’s grateful for the darkened room and her concealer for hiding her blushing face.
“You're here, there's nothing I fear
And I know that my heart will go on
We'll stay forever this way
You are safe in my heart and
My heart will go on and on”
When Wanda can no longer take the tension she lunges forward, lips passionately colliding with your own inexperienced pair, but in the weed fueled haze neither of you seem to care. Her lips are soft and taste faintly of vodka and strawberries, and you feel this pull to never let her go, hands falling to her hips to ensure it as the case, if not forever then for at least another minute.
Wanda is the one who breaks the kiss, realizing you’d forgotten that breathing is necessary, and she giggles wildly once you seem to have regained your cognition, but somehow managed to only mutter out a simple, “Wow…” before burying your face into the crook of her neck embarrassingly.
“I think I’ll keep you krasivaya… maybe we’ll make the greatest escape, leave this small town, and thank it for all the memories.”
Wanda smiles widely as you laugh uncontrollably against her, residing in that moment to never stop making you laugh for as long as you both shall live.
•~~~~~~~~~~~•—•~~~~~~~~~~~•
Wanda presses a kiss to your palm, then another to your fingertips as your hand falls from her face. Nodding almost violently she shakily begins to remove the hospital’s life sustaining IV’s and cords from your broken down body, absolutely hellbent on giving you what you want, and really, what she needs in your fleeting moments…
She cradled your slackening form to her chest, swaying you around in the dimly lit hospital room to the tune of ‘My Heart Will Go On’ as her tears fell without reserve, eyes tracing over every feature of yours in fear that she might one day forget the beauty that is your face, knowing though that it’s not likely to happen.
Wanda recounted her fondest memories of your life well spent together aloud for you to hear in your final moments, while staring down at your peaceful face, and wishing for time to undo its greatest mistake in taking you away. Time had always been so cruel to her, and she’d mistakenly thought she finally had succeeded in beating it at this twisted game. Apparently it was all a well planned out blanket of security bestowed upon her, fifteen years worth of love could never be enough for her, or for the children you brought into the world.
Wanda moves her face closer to your own when she sees you speaking in a hushed tone, “I love you guys so much, kiss the twins for me…” leaving your lips, and a whimper leaves her own when she realizes this is it, it’s all over…
Wanda whispers, "Until we meet again my love..." against your lips before gently kissing you through your last breath.
Natasha stood outside the hospital room with Yelena’s trembling form held close as she repeatedly whispered, “we still had five months,” as if that would change anything. Tears of her own fall down her cheeks when she sees the exact moment your chest no longer rises, and she realizes she now has to live in a world without your perfect laughter.
“Natasha, my fiercest protector, please take care of them, and while you’re at it yourself…” reads the final sentence of the crumpled up note in her hand, and the moment your wife fell to her knees she vowed to do as you wished.
“You can rest now malen’kiy volk…”
—————————————————————
6,914 Words
A Rough Reminder
August Walker x Fem!Reader
T/W: This is an ADULT story, so 18+ for sexual content. It's all smut. No real plot. Blindfolding. Blowjob. Vaginal Sex. Unprotected sex. Dirty Talk. Dom Talk. And a bit of cuddling after.
Word Count: 1k
Summary: Dom!August is in a mood to remind you where your place is and he's not going to be gentle about it.
A/N: Still testing the waters out for August Walker. This is terrible and I'm sorry. I haven't been writing as regularly as I used to, so I am expecting this to be a bit clunky and rusty. I make my own graphics. Requests are open. Anons are always welcome.
Original Masterlist | New Masterlist
Your naked body being forced down onto its knees could only mean one thing: August was in the mood to play rough. He towers over your helpless frame with his chest heaving up and down. His jaw clenched, and his palms twitched with the idea of busting your little ass and feeling your tender flesh under his fingers. He wanted you to know your place with him. He wanted to remind you who you belonged to.
The view of you right now sent him into overdrive. An animalistic instinct came out in him. He wants to devour you and to feel you wrap around him tightly. He wants to be the reason you moan and beg. You were August's little toy, and he was going to use you as such.
He starts to unbutton his cufflinks and rolls up his shirt sleeves. You nod your head confidently and lick at your lips, admiring the way his shirt clung to his large and toned frame. When August was in a mood, you were always more than happy to oblige him. There was something about him taking complete control of you that helped ease your days and your mind. And the way your body felt after, that was always just a bonus.
You couldn't help but eagerly smile and watch as August's large hands moved to take off his tie. He drapes it over your eyes and ties it behind your head, and your vision is blocked off. Your senses go into overdrive, and you can hear him breathing heavily. You can feel his presence towering over you still. Goosebumps spread over your body, causing your hair to stand on its ends.
August reaches down and undoes his belt. You can hear the buckle moving around, and the anticipation starts to get to you. He slides his belt off and holds it in his hand a moment as he undoes himself and frees his hard cock from the restricting clothing. The feeling of being free causes him to moan slightly, and he smirks, looking down at you. He's watching as your lips part instinctually, ready to take him into your mouth.
"You want to taste me, Kitten?" He asks you.
"Yes, Sir." You softly respond to him, nodding your head slightly.
August smirks as he takes a few steps forward and places a hand on the back of your head. You straighten out your back and open your lips in time to feel his soft head touching your bottom lip before it slides easily over your tongue and into your mouth. You close your lips around him and start to move your head into a back and forth motion. The smell of August's cologne, sweat, and natural scent hit your nose, and you can't help but commit it to your memory.
Your senses are overloaded. Every little move, grunt, or moan coming from August is heightened. His hand on the back of your head feels more powerful than usual as he roughly pulls at your hair and starts to guide your motions against his cock.
"That's right, Kitten. Just like that." He says emphatically, as his head hangs back, and he lets out a loud, deep-throated groan. Your lips around his cock gives him goosebumps. He pumps into your mouth with a steady pace as his mind focuses on the way your lips tightly wrap around him. Your hands moved to brace yourself as you rest them on his thighs, gently pulling at his dress slacks as you push him to the back of your throat a moment and hold him there.
August groans loudly as he feels you take in his entire length. He shivers a moment, his whole body trembling like you had given him a cold chill up his spine. "Oh good girl." He says as he quickly pulls himself out of your mouth and is quick to strip off his clothes. He looks down at you and smiles.
"Stand up." He commands you as he takes his free hand and helps you up. You smile and bite down on your bottom lip as August leans in and starts to kiss at your neck. He nips at you, bitting down slightly, leaving little marks against your skin. As if to mark his territory for a moment. He steps forward, pressing you against the wall. His free hand moves to your warm wet core, and his fingers start to play with your swollen bud.
The combination of his hot breath on your neck and his fingers playing with your parts, causes you to moan, and he responds with a smirk that you can't see. He removes his hand from your bud and lifts his head so that his lips graze against your ear.
"Look at you, you are so wet. Do you want my cock, baby?"
"Yes." You whimper.
"How badly do you want it?" He asks in return.
"So badly. Please? Please fuck me."
"Say it again, Kitten."
"Please fuck me." You start to beg him.
"Louder!" He growls at you.
"Please fuck me!"
With a quick motion, August lifts you up and wraps your legs around him. He slides his cock inside you, filling you up and already hitting your sweet spot. Your senses go into overdrive, and your start to move your hips with his motions.
"That's right, Kitten. Fuck me back." He commands you as he pumps up inside you. He moves one hand to your ass bracing you a moment as his other hand moves to the wall, and he braces his weight against it. He guides your motions as best he can, making sure they are rough and that you are taking every inch of him that you can possibly fit inside you. You whimper as he slams his cock into you, and you moan as he almost slides it out of you completely only to slam its entire length back into you.
"Don't stop, please." You start to beg him. "Harder."
He's happy to oblige, but first, he changes your position. He carries you to his bed and lays you down on the edge of it, his massive weight hovering over you as he slams himself back inside you. Your back arches against the bed, and you pull at the blankets under you.
"Oh fuck!" You scream for him.
"Who do you belong to Kitten?" He moans.
"You."
"You, what?" He corrects you, slamming roughly up into you, making you whimper a moment before you say the correct phrase.
"You, Sir!"
"Good Girl. Say it again.?
"I belong to you, Sir!"
"Oh fuck yes!" He moans at your response.
His hips crash into your roughly, and he pressed himself into you, pumping at a quick pace. He can feel the pressure start to build at the base of him and he knows he's going to fill you up if he keeps at this pace, but August can't stop himself, and he can't bring himself to slow down.
"Fuck Kitten. Fuck. Fuck." He moans repeatedly as he grips at the bedspread. Your hands move to his back scratching down, which causes him to only fuck you harder. "You are going to make me cum, Kitten..." He says in a breathy tone.
"Cum for me. Please. Please." You beg him, needing to feel his sweat release. You wrap your legs around him, your fingers dig into his back and shoulders. August's hips press up into you, and his body shakes as he releases inside of you. He moans loudly, his cock twitches several times, and thrust starts to slow down. And as he finishes you are quick to finish with him, pressing your hips up as your lower body trembles with your orgasm.
Both of you stop for a moment and catch your breath before August falls to the side of you. He reaches over and takes off his tie from around your eyes. Both of you smile at each other before your rollover and rest your head on his large chest. You take a moment to listen to the way his heartbeat sounds as his hand moves to plays with your hair a moment before he speaks again.
"You are such a good girl." He says softly as he pulls you in closer. You gaze up at August and smile. He smiles back down at you before closing his eyes a moment, simply holding your body as close to his as possible.
Tagging: @tellingyouastory
Testing Patience
Masterlist | Taglist | Requests are always Open!
A little August Walker blurb, this is my first time working with this character… be nice lol.
I've neglected to give the Henry Cavill community some content for the past week and a half. So here is something to hold you all over for a little bit lol.
With August, you knew better. You knew not to push those buttons, to test his patience, but you did it anyway. You strained just enough to feel the swat across your ass, the pull of your hair, the hand around your throat, the sound of him clear his throat, or tap his finger against a hard surface. You pushed his patience just enough to be corrected but never too much, though the thought always crossed your mind. Today, today was that day.
"Why must you talk back?"
"Why must you be so bossy?"
"Are you getting sassy?"
"What if I am? What are you going to do about it?" You press mentally prepared for whatever comes your way.
"Do you really want to find out?" His jaw clenched.
"What? Are? You? Going? To? Do? About? It?" You tilted your head and looked over his face.
Licking his lips, he reached for your wrist, pulling you close to him; he spun you around and forced your hands on the counter.
WHACK, WHACK, WHACK. August gave 3 solid smacks across your ass. His jaw clenched, thinking about your attitude and your sass. WHACK, WHACK, WHACK, WHACK, WHACK, WHACK. He gave you six more, his breathing heavy, you winced, and a tear fell from your eyes. Looking over your face, he pulled you up and looked over your face wiping away a tear.
"Are you done?" He asks fixing his shirt sleeves and tucking some hair behind your ear.
Nodding your head, you let out a soft breath.
"You're pretty when you cry after a punishment. Now behave."
With a nod and a sniffle, you straighten your skirt and lean in and give him a kiss on his cheek.
—crystal snow |myg|
⟢ pairing: detective!yoongi x f!reader
⟢ word count: 7.2k
⟢ genre: nsfw 18+, exes to lovers au. angst, smut, fluff end.
⟢ warnings: so like, this story makes me tear up every time, i am sorry for the angst parts but it doesn’t stay that way by the end. mentions of threats, violence, suicide, murder, pregnancy and pregnancy loss, explicit smut: kissing, oral f. receiving, fingering, unprotected vaginal penetration, creampie
⟢ summary: Your ex-boyfriend, who ghosted you 2 years ago, shows up for the first time since that fateful day at your best friend's wedding.
⟢ an: This was for #BTSAugustAngst Writing Challenge I hosted on Twitter. Chosen Prompts:
"𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻 𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗻𝘂𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗵 𝘁𝗼 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁."
"𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗵 𝗜 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗼 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵."
𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛: Alicea @badgalcici91 on twt
You smooth down the soft pink dress, sliding your hands over your curves as you gaze at yourself in the mirror. You smile at your reflection, tucking an unruly curl behind your ear and adjust the small white pinned flower in your hair. Reflecting back on the last 2 years of your life, you can't believe you are back in Seoul, let alone standing in the Grand Hyatt Seoul Hotel. The massive 5-star hotel is the location for your best friend’s winter wedding, and the group of women you're with are waiting for the moment to walk down the aisle.
“Okay, everyone, take a champagne flute, we’ve got word that we’re starting in 5 minutes!” The boisterous voice of Park Jimin fills the room and you turn away from the mirror to gather around the male who had just entered.
He's dressed impeccably, a dark navy blue suit on his frame that accentuates his slender build. You reach towards the silver platter he's holding and grasp a half-filled glass. You step back to allow others a chance, and listen quietly as your best friend speaks.
“Thank you all so much, for everything. I can’t believe it’s here… I’m marrying Hobi!” Her voice goes from a gushing thankful tone to an excited yell, and everyone around you cheers. You applaud quietly, taking it all in.
“So, everyone knows their assignments, I know this is so not Korean of me to have bridesmaids, but I promise the ceremony will still be just as short! Then off to food and drinks!” Another cheer from the ladies hides the sound of Jimin exiting the room with the empty platter. He's the gracious liaison between the groomsmen and the bridesmaids rooms, and is to be your walking partner down the aisle, weirdly enough. Thinking about the odd arrangements, you miss when your best friend gives you a special shout out.
“Y/N! Focus, lady!” She laughs. “Thank you for this...I know you had sworn off stepping foot into Seoul ever again, but this day would not be the same without you.” She smiles at you, a softer, knowing smile that makes your heart ache for a few seconds before she raises her glass.
“All right, bitches! Let’s get me married!”
Lining up in the hallway outside the doors to the grand ballroom, you feel nervous. You know that he isn't here. You attended the rehearsal a couple days before and he was not any of the groomsmen, though you aren’t truly surprised. His best friend is just getting married, why would he bother to show up? He left you without so much as a word; why would he show up to this?
You scan the hallway, looking around for Jimin. The other 5 women stand next to their respective person; Namjoon should be in front of you, followed by Jin, Taehyung, Jungkook, and--
Your face bunches up in confusion as you take in the fact that Jo Kwon is actually standing in front of you, and Namjoon is in front of Jungkook. But then Kwon sticks his head through the door and looks at everyone, and you realize Jimin is actually standing in front of you.
“Jimin, what are you doing?” You whisper frantically, hearing the music start.
“I’m sorry babe, but I was told to switch.” He turns back to the front as the procession starts, Namjoon and Jungkook disappearing seconds apart as the line moves up. Jimin links arms with the girl in front of you, and you gesture your hand at Kwon, who was holding the door open, trying to ask where your partner is and if it's going to be him once you get to the door.
“Ahem.” The sound of a throat clearing startles you, and you turn to see Min Yoongi standing at your side. His navy blue suit matches the one Jimin is wearing in front of you, and the flower pinned to his lapel is the same one that is sprinkled through the bouquet of flowers in your hand.
You can’t help but stare, mouth open in a silent gasp as your eyes take him in. He's 2 years older from when you last saw him; slightly bulkier in his arms and chest from how he is filling out the suit and with what appears to be soft, fresh snow littering his hair. He brushes his shoulders free from the now melting snow, and his touch is as soft as you remember when he grazes your elbow.
“It’s our turn.” His voice is quiet as he slides his fingers along the inside of your arm as he makes his way to link his around yours.
His voice snaps you back to the present, and reflexively you walk, fingers pale from the strength with which you clutch the flowers in your hand. He leads you through the door and down the aisle and it takes everything in you to maintain the fake smile you have plastered onto your face. He releases you once you make it to the altar, and you separate to your respective sides. Your eyes are burning from holding back the tears threatening to spill, but at that moment, your best friend appears and you blink them away; if anyone notices, they’ll assume your watery eyes are from happiness at seeing her look so beautiful walking down the aisle towards Jung Hoseok, her Hobi, her future.
You see the moment she notices Yoongi, her footsteps barely faltering as her smile slips the slightest, but her smile widens as soon as her eyes fall onto Hobi. Your hand takes the bouquet from her and from that moment on you barely hear the speech and vows exchanged, moving on autopilot. When she kisses Hobi and they leave, you forget to move, and Yoongi walks over to collect you, as the rest of the bridal & groom party are waiting for the two of you to follow Hobi out. You pull away from his outstretched hand, recoiling as if struck at by a snake, before realizing people are watching the encounter with interest.
You step down off the platform, walking next to Yoongi but not linking arms, as is customary. The steps you are taking grow in speed, until you crosse the threshold of the entryway and take off running down the hallway. You have to get away from him.
Dashing into the restroom, you lean against the countertop with your hands gripping the sink basin. Your head hangs and tears that you had thought were all cried out for this man flow nonstop down your cheeks. You let out an anguished cry, curling in on yourself in an attempt to soothe your shattered heart. Unfortunately, you didn’t think anything could stop the pain from a thousand cuts.
𝒻𝓁𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 ------------
You carry the bag of takeout up the stairs to your apartment, ready to be home after a long day at work. You can't wait to get home and vent about the bullshit that your boss was pulling. Maybe your boyfriend will give you a back massage after dinner.
Your boyfriend.
Min Yoongi works for the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency and while he says his job was stressful, you always see him return home in his slacks and button down shirts with not a hair out of place, while yours is a rat’s nest of tangles from constantly running your hand through it in frustration. You sigh as you make your way down the hallway, thoughts revolving like a carousel after the news you received today. It's the longest day of your life at this point, and you're terrified to tell Yoongi about it. From the appointment in the morning to arriving at work to talk with your boss, you just want to be able to curl up with your favorite man and express your love for him. It'd been a year of dating, and while you haven’t said ‘I love you’, yet, you know you both feel it. Tonight you are ready to say it.
Unlocking the door, you walk in and kick off your shoes before setting down the plastic bag that contains take out boxes of lamb skewers, galbi, rice, kimchi, and spicy braised chicken. It's oddly quiet, as Yoongi usually is home on Tuesday’s, so you walk through the apartment to see if he's laying down.
Except that as you turn on the light in your shared bedroom, you can tell something is wrong right away. The closet door is open and you can see the wall that previously had been hidden by Yoongi’s clothes. Spinning towards the attached bathroom, your feet carry you across the cold tile where you can easily see empty spots where Yoongi’s belongings have sat for the last 2 months since you moved in together.
Confused, you return to the living room to grab your phone from your purse that you discarded on the kitchen counter.
Dialing Yoongi's cellphone, the phone rings repeatedly before going to voicemail. You make a couple more calls but they continue to ring. Starting to worry, you dial your best friend.
“Hey! I didn’t think you would be calling so soon, did you already tell him? How did he react?”
“Um, he’s actually not here? Is, um, are you with Hobi?” Your voice is tearful.
“Yeah…Babe, are you okay?”
“I—Can I just talk to Hobi real quick?”
You hear her muffled voice as she hands the phone over to Hobi. Hitting the speaker button, you open up your messages app to send a text to Yoongi’s phone while you talk to Hobi.
“Hey Y/N, what’s up?”
“Hey, have you heard from Yoongi today?”
“Mmm, no, actually. Why?”
“Um, he’s just not home, and his stuff is gone...”
“His stuff is gone?” Hobi’s voice gets high at the end, confusion fully lacing his tone.
“Yeah,” you know your voice sounds like you're crying, because you are. “Can you—um, if you talk to him, can you let him know I tried to contact him? And let me know?”
“Of course, Y/N, I’ll call him right now.”
“Thanks Hobi.”
Ending the call leaves you alone with the silence. You begin to run around your apartment, searching for something, anything , that shows Yoongi had been there, that he plans on coming back.
Drawer after drawer, cabinet after cabinet, you find nothing of significance left behind. His desktop computer, awards from playing basketball in college, even the photo of the two of you that had been set on the nightstand are all missing. Just gone.
It’s now been 15 minutes since you hung up with Hobi, and you attempt to call Yoongi one more time. It doesn’t even ring this time. Straight to voicemail.
Lying on the floor next to his side of the bed, you clutch the last remnant of his in the muted apartment—his pillow from your shared bed. The food you carried home is left forgotten on the counter, and it isn’t until three days later when your best friend forces her way into the apartment that it is even disposed of. She finds you in bed, dried streaks of tears staining your cheeks framed by your matted hair.
“Y/N?” Her voice is soft, and it makes your heart break even more knowing that she is using her kid gloves with you. You must look like a hot mess.
“Honey, you gotta get up. Let’s get you in the shower. Have you eaten? I can call Hobi to—”
“No.”
“Please, Y/n, there’s got to be a reason that Yoongi—”
“Don’t.”
“But—”
You throw the covers and stand up, anger replacing the sadness.
“He’s gone and he's not coming back. Clearly I meant nothing to him, since he couldn’t even leave me a fucking a note, or text, or hell, a goddamn carrier pigeon,” you glare at her, “he decided to leave this relationship without telling me anything was wrong. Fuck him and everyone helping him hide from me.”
You walk through the house, your best friend following as she pleads with you to talk to her, and you go to tell her exactly where to shove her sympathy when you get lightheaded.
“Y/n? Y/n!”
You collapse to the ground and she instantly rushes to your aid, but you don’t want it. Inconveniently, you are too weak to push her away or to tell her to leave you. You hear her frantically speaking to someone over the phone before everything fades to black.
Three months after that day when you were rushed to the hospital from your home, you lock the door to that apartment for the last time. Dropping the key off at the main office, you don’t look back as you make your way to the moving van that will take you four hours across the country to Busan. Work transfer complete and the new apartment secured, you are ready to never set foot in Seoul again.
𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝓁𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 ----------------
Of course, your best friend getting married had to fuck up those plans.
You look up at yourself in the glass and the sight makes you cringe. You have to go back to the reception; you need to pull yourself together no matter how badly you want to give in to the grief. Today isn’t about you. Tonight, after Hobi whisks your best friend and beautiful bride away on their honeymoon, you can fall apart.
Taking several deep breaths, you try to calm your racing heart and ease the trembling of your body. Slowly you release your tight hold on the sink basin and begin to fix up your face as best as you can. You just need to make it to the side room where your makeup is, and then you’ll be back to perfect. You crack a smile, fix your hair, and walk out of the bathroom with your head held high.
“Y/n, where the fuck did you go? It’s time for pictures!”
You roll your eyes at the bridesmaid who's scolding you. She's been mad the entire time you've been back in Seoul, and you feel like she wanted your spot as Maid of Honor. She is a new friend made by your best friend since you had fled 391 kilometers south, and she irritates you beyond belief.
“Alright, now that everyone is here, pair up like you did for the ceremony. Let’s get these done in 10 minutes so we can eat!” The photographer, who happens to be Jungkook's girlfriend, smiles at you from where she stands waving the camera at you to motion you to join the group.
“Babe, please don’t break my camera!” Jungkook pouts at her in Satoori, and she laughs, shaking her head at him. You hate the way they interact, all doe-eyed and in love—even when scolding one another.
“3, 2, 1, everyone say ‘Kimchi!’”
Sitting at the open bar, you've already long since delivered your speech about the bride and groom's love, and dealt with the talk the bride attempted to have when she went to change into her reception dress.
“I had no idea, I swear. He told Hobi he wasn’t sure if he could make it.”
You nod, helping her with the zipper on the dress and avoid the discussion. You were angry with her once you found out that she had known he was invited, and that she appeared to have known he had re-appeared at some point after you left, but never mentioned this little tidbit to you in her many visits or phone calls with you.
As soon as she is dressed again, you flee the room, already fighting the tears that threaten to ruin your makeup for a second time.
Throwing back a shot, you’ve lost count of how many you've taken, and can feel the room growing hot as it starts to rotate. Suddenly, a song change makes you want to dance, and you make a very clumsy attempt to get to the dance floor. Your path is cut short when you bounce off of a solid 5 foot 8 inch man blocking your path.
“You look like Namjoon right now.”
“Move, Yoongi.” Your hands lift to shove him out of your way, but never make contact with his chest. You stumble, clearly drunk.
“I think you need to sit down, you know you can’t handle your liquor.”
It's been 2 years and here he is acting like he still knows you.
“You don’t know me, Min Yoongi! It’s been two years, what do you know?” you slur, pointing your finger at him with the bratty attitude you get when you drink too much.
He sighs. “Some things you don’t forget.” He knows you all too well.
"𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻 𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗻𝘂𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗵 𝘁𝗼 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁." Your voice is harsh, but anyone sober can hear the distress in your voice.
“I really wanted to talk to you...Fuck.” Yoongi runs his fingers through his hair, grimacing as he takes in your inebriated state.
Why does he still look exactly as you remember? Why does his voice make your stomach fill with butterflies, why does your body still yearn for him, despite everything he's put you through. Your heart feels like it's healing just by seeing him, despite your head telling you this is not good for you.
“I wish—God, Y/N...”
"𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗵 𝗜 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗼 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵." Your heart wins out, spilling it’s thoughts.
“Y/n—”
“You obliterated me, and I still love you. Isn’t that crazy? I still dream of you, you know? I wake up reaching for you, but you’re not there. Maybe this is a dream too, maybe this is a fucked up dream.”
He says nothing, just watches you cautiously as you close the gap between the two of you. Warm skin meets your fingers as you touch his face, and his eyes close in response to the gentle touch. When they open, you can’t see anything else. Only him. You don’t know who makes the first move. All you know is one second you're cupping his face, and the next his lips softly press against yours. He tastes how you remember, like freshly fallen rain, strawberry chapstick, and home. He pulls away when he feels your tears wet his cheek; your eyes are still squeezed shut and lips puckered.
“I’m real, princess, I’m here.” He uses his pet name for you, and it tears a gaping wound through your chest as more tears fall.
“You left me.”
Yoongi looks up at the ceiling, breathing deeply as if to ground himself.
“I didn’t— That’s not—”
“You left me!” You slap his chest with your open palm. “You did! You left me, left me to pick up the pieces of my life that you shattered!”
When you swing at him again, he grabs your arm and tugs you into him, effectively stopping you from causing a scene at your best friend’s wedding reception.
“Let’s get you sobered up, princess.”
“Don’t call me that,” you pout, but you follow his lead none the less as he guides you out of the ballroom and towards the elevator.
“What room are you in?”
“Don’t know.”
Your eyes are closing and you're slowing down, stumbling a little more.
“Hey, hey, Y/n, stay with me—Shit.”
You sense your body floating, and then black.
Blinking in the brightening hotel room, you glance at the clock next to your head and see it’s barely 6:35 AM. Your head hurts and your body is warm; you have to pee, but you can’t move.
“Mmmfffp,” a low groan sends shivers across your back as hot air is blown across your neck. You mentally scan your body, noticing that you're wrapped up in someone’s hold. It doesn’t feel like you had sex with anyone last night, and the dream you had about your ex made you feel more sad than horny, so who are you laid up with?
Untangling their limbs from yours, you slip out of the bed and creep to the bathroom to relieve yourself. Taking in your appearance as you wash your hands, you don’t look too disheveled. You are in a large t-shirt that is not yours, panties still intact. You sigh, combing your fingers through your strands before making your way back into the dim room. You’re still tired, and at this point you don’t care whose bed you’re in.
Until you see his face. The one that haunts your dreams, the one that destroyed your belief in “happily ever after”. The one you never wanted to see ever again for the rest of your life, despite your heart telling you the opposite. You look around the room, locating your dress and shoes. Once you’ve gathered them in your arms, you make your way to the nearest door. You can’t do this. You have to leave. The farther you get from Yoongi’s slumbering face, the wider the wound grows, but you can’t. You lost everything the day he left you. Closing the door, Yoongi rolls over in his sleep, his arm outstretched for someone no longer there.
Once again in the hotel room bathroom, you stare at yourself in the mirror taking in your face free of makeup residue. Yoongi is always considerate in that aspect. When you were dating and would come home from a night out with friends, he would always take care of you with little gestures like that. You can’t understand why he cares so much now.
Hadn’t he decided you weren’t even worth a goodbye? Hadn’t he left you, disappearing from your life as if it was the easiest thing to do? As if you were a thing that he could easily…leave behind?
You barely hold back the sound of the sobs that wrack your body as you clutch at your chest with your left hand; right hand over your mouth as the tears stream down your face. You had held back these tears last night; in the early morning light, there is nothing that requires you to be strong. Your best friend is long gone on her honeymoon with Hobi, and you can allow yourself this moment.
Gathering yourself up off of the bathroom floor, you quickly re-dress, removing the t-shirt you guess belongs to your ex, folding it delicately and placing it on the sink counter. You open the door, resolved to make your escape out of the hotel room.
A firm chest stops you.
“Oh!” You startle, walking headfirst into Yoongi’s torso, whose arms catch you as you stumble.
Your heart is beating fast. Being in his arms feels so right, despite the years that have passed, but your head is telling you it’s a trick.
“Leaving already?” he asks you, his voice gravelly from sleep. He rubs one eye, still trying to wake up.
“Yea, I didn’t want to wake you.” You reach past him to move toward the door handle, but he places his hands on your shoulders, stilling you. You refuse to meet his eyes.
“I—Look, Y/n—”
“Seriously, Yoongi, it’s whatever. Thanks for taking care of drunk me, but I think I should go.”
“Y/n, please.” His voice breaks, and you give in, your sad eyes meeting his matching ones.
“Please. Just let me...let me explain, then you can go. I won’t hold you back.”
You sigh, debating internally before you walk further into the hotel room away from the exit. You know you’re going to give in. Hearing his reasons for leaving will give you what you need to truly pick up the pieces. You need that closure to move on…from him. Turning, you move to sit on the bed and he follows you. He sits next to you but gives you space.
“I know you know that I work for Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency...but back then, I was with the National Intelligence Service. I was working a case when we met. That’s why I worked all those hours. Do you remember when the news hit the media about the big hack of the NIS system? That was my department. All of our information was breached.”
You’re confused. He wasn’t just a regular officer? He was an Agent in the NIS?
“What? You—I thought...”
“I lied. I had to, to be with you. It’s strongly encouraged that we not have serious relationships as agents.”
You nod, brain still struggling to piece it all together.
“I didn’t know...I didn’t think I would…we ended up getting more serious than I originally planned.”
This is news to you. He never planned to be serious with you? Then what was the point?
“You’re an asshole Yoongi.”
You grab your bag, moving to get up and leave. You don’t need to be insulted like this. A hand on your wrist slows your movements.
“I was the happiest I’ve ever been when I was with you.”
You freeze, so confused with the ups and downs of his story. Yoongi realizes he’d used the wrong choice of words.
“I just meant that when we first started dating, I didn’t know you would become so important to me.”
You relax back onto the bed, facing him as he continues his story.
“The breach was insidious. The case we were working, involved some really dangerous people. People willing to kill to avoid getting caught. My partner—” Yoongi’s voice broke, causing you to scoot closer to him, wanting to provide comfort.
“Kang Chae Young was found dead in his apartment. It appeared like a suicide, note and all, but we knew who it was. They left clues that only those working the case would know. And basically said we needed to cease our investigation or the rest of us would end up the same way.”
“It could’ve been me. It could’ve been you.” His head drops, but you can hear it in his voice that he’s holding in tears as he continues. “We lived together. They knew my address. The agency knew that they had done surveillance on Chae Young before they went there. He was married with kids. They waited for him to be alone.”
Your eyes water at Yoongi’s story, knowing how hard it must have been to lose a partner. You can relate.
“I had to leave you. I had to disappear and make sure that they knew I had no ties to you, that I didn’t care about you. I made sure you were protected, I had a PI watch over you, and when you moved away, I was able to breathe a sigh of relief knowing you were safe.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Your voice is quiet at first, but you start to get irritated with him. “You always talked to me, Yoongi! Next to sex, that was the easiest thing for us!” When it came to your relationship, Yoongi always appeared to be open and honest about things, and now you are finding out that he had lied to you about so much.
“Yoongi, you should have talked to me, you could have told me what happened, I would have understood—”
“No, if I’d told you, that would have put you in danger too. I couldn’t ask you to go into protective custody with me, give up your life—”
“Yoongi! I loved you! I would have gone with you!”
He grimaces, knowing that the feelings you shared were bound to come up...He had spent many a night thinking and overthinking about how he had never said how he felt about you to you, though he knew you both felt the same.
“I know, I…I loved you too, but we hadn’t even said it yet, hell, this is the first time that we’re even saying this to each other. I couldn’t ask you to drop everything for—”
“That wasn’t for you to decide! I would have understood, I would have gone with you!”
“You shouldn’t have had to! I couldn't ask you to give up your life, your career, your friends; we didn’t know how long it would take to catch them!”
“Well guess the fuck what, Yoongi! I lost all of those things any fucking way! Career? Gone.” You stand up, ticking off your fingers as count down to the secret you’ve kept hidden from everyone. Something only your best friend knows. “Friends? I was miles away from them. My life? You were my life, Yoongi. I mean it when I say you obliterated me.” You turn away from him, voice quiet as you finally say it outloud to him, what you have been waiting years to tell him.
“I was pregnant, Yoongi.”
He feels lightheaded. His skin is hot, but clammy. He can’t have heard you correctly.
“I was going to tell you when I got home that evening. I found out that morning. Remember you had urged me to go get a check up because I was feeling under the weather? It was because I was pregnant, Yoongi. We were going to have a baby.”
You heard a loud thump behind you; turning around you see Yoongi on his knees.
“What?”
“I called you, Hobi, your job. I contacted everyone I thought who could help find you. I was about to file a missing person’s report, but I guess the Department knew what had happened with the hack, and so they sent me away.”
“Pregnant?” His eyes are wider than you have ever seen them and he’s distant. He’s physically in the room with you, but he isn’t present.
“Not after...I—The baby didn’t make it. I lost it, the pregnancy.”
The anguish in the room is palpable. But it is about time everyone airs their secrets.
“I’m sorry.” Yoongi is standing, reaching for you, and you let him gather you in his arms.
The catharsis of telling him this shared grief and receiving the comfort you had longed for…you wrap your arms around him and let yourself break down in front of him. His hand strokes your hair as he whispers sweet apologies to you. How had it all gone so wrong? You had been so right for him. He had wanted to marry you. He still wanted to marry you, but according to your best friend, you’d moved on. Who was he to interfere? He caused you enough pain.
But then you look up at him, and he throws all caution to the wind. His lips are on yours in a second, and he wastes no time parting your lips with his tongue. You tastes how he remembers, oh God, how he remembers and you respond to him feverishly.
You clutch at his biceps, pulling him as close as he could possibly be, and he walks you backwards to the bed.
It’s like no time has passed at all; the way he’s touching you sets your body alight. He remembers just how to kiss you, where to touch you, how to pull those delightful breathy moans from your parted lips. Both of you are shed of most of your clothing, and he kisses along your body until he reaches the apex of your thighs. Teasing you, he gently kisses along your inner thigh, marking you lightly as he makes his way to your panties. His eyes dilate as he takes in the way it clings to your lower lips, your wetness leaving nothing to the imagination. You’re panting, leaning up on your elbows, though the first lick against your clothed center has you falling back into the sheets.
“Yoongi...”
“Just as I remember, princess, you taste so good.”
And with that, he’s pulling down your panties and flinging them across the room, diving face first into your dripping warmth. You can’t help but bury your hands into his hair, gripping his locks as he maneuvers his tongue to build your pleasure. You arch when he adds a finger to the mix, curling the tip to press against your sensitive spot. You cry out his name, rolling your hips as you guide his face. He tongues at your folds, sucking on each gently before renewing his efforts, adding another finger and speeding up their thrusts.
“Fuck… Yoongi, I need more, I need to feel you...”
“Cum for me, princess, then I’ll give you whatever you want.”
His voice, commanding and full of lust brings you to your first climax; your body is quaking as he licks you through it. You push him away when it’s too much, and he chuckles, kissing your mound and then your belly button. He kisses along the edge of each breast, thumbs flicking at your nipples before he replaces his thumbs with his tongue, laving circles before sucking them into his mouth. He massages them as his kisses continue up your neck, until finally you’e tasting yourself as he kisses you.
This kiss is unhurried, as if you have all the time in the world, and you feel his length against your thigh. Reaching down, you collect some of your arousal, shuddering at how sensitive you still are, before gripping his shaft in your hand. Your thumb rubs along the head, collecting precum that leaks from the tip, causing Yoongi to bite down on your lip.
“Fuck, Y/n...”
You smirk, twisting your hand around his cock as you glide along it, and he groans into your mouth. When you kiss the sensitive spot below his ear, his cock twitches in your hand, and he shifts to align himself with you.
He pulls away, eyes meeting yours, searching for something. He smiles softly.
“I love you.”
He doesn’t give you a chance to respond; he’s breaching your core with a grunt and the high pitched whine you let out sets his heart alight. He doesn’t care that you moved on, doesn’t care about the so-called boyfriend your best friend claims you have, he just wants to be in you, wants to have you one last time.
“Princess, you’re always so tight for me.”
“Always,” you nod, eyes closing as you roll your hips to meet his, feeling a gush of arousal coat his dick allowing him to slide easier within you.
“You take me so well...” Yoongi is panting, barely holding on as you clench on him as he bestows you with praise, “like you were made for me.”
“Fuck Yoon—I...” It’s building, your orgasm imminent, and you don’t want it to end. You want to stay in the safety of this hotel room, where you and Yoongi are in love with each other and everything feels perfect. Reading your body, he slows down his strokes to prolong it. He’s looking down at where the two of you are joined, watching the way he plunges into you, coming out coated in your slick each time. You grasp his chin, pulling his face up to meet his eyes.
“I love you.”
Yoongi’s pink lips attack yours, passion igniting as he speeds up his thrusts. You’re spiraling in seconds, the head of his cock tapping your g-spot in succession sent your toes curling as you moaned his name over and over. It’s not long before he’s cursing, following you to the same euphoric destination. He fills you with his thick arousal, his movements causing it to leak down along your thigh as he pulls out of you.
He’s gentle as he cleans you up after he wipes himself off. Climbing back into the bed, he pulls you into his arms; if this is the last time he has you, he wants to remember the way you feel in his arms.
You roll over, stirring slightly as you hear rustling in the room. Opening one eye, you see Yoongi sitting on the edge of the bed, lacing his shoes. He’s dressed in casual clothes, a duffel bag packed on the bed beside him.
“Yoongi?” Your voice is loud in the quiet room. “What time is it? Why didn’t you wake me?”
“It’s almost 11. I was going to wake you up soon, before I had to check out.” Yoongi doesn’t turn to look at you, and you don’t understand why he’s being so distant.
“If you had woken me up, we could’ve gotten ready together, I—”
“I’m sorry, Y/n. I didn’t know me coming into your life would cause you so much pain. It’s the last thing I ever wanted to do. Especially to you.”
“Yoon, what are you talking about? Why do you sound like you’re leaving me again? I…I just got you back.”
“It’s for the best.”
Yoongi stands up, grabbing his bag to head towards the hotel room door. You stand up, wrapping the hotel sheets around your body.
“Min Yoongi, don’t you dare walk out that door!”
He sighs, and you can imagine the eye roll he made to accompany it. Stalking over to him, you grab his shoulder and turn him to face you.
“This is not your decision to make. You don’t get to decide what’s best for me. Look how well that turned out last time.”
“That’s exactly why I have to leave! I caused you to lose our baby! Me! I’m no good for you.”
He turns on his heel and opens the door. He pauses briefly, long enough for his eyes to take you in one last time.
“Goodbye, Y/n.”
Namjoon is sitting in his car down in front of the hotel lobby. Yoongi had text him to see if he had left yet, as he wanted to catch a ride with him. Namjoon looks up when he hears the door open, and watches as a red eyed Yoongi climbs into his passenger seat.
“Woah, Yoongi. What happened?”
“It’s nothing man, just drive.”
“No way, I’m not moving until you tell me.”
“Fuck! Namjoon, just drive!” Yoongi is usually always so level and soft spoken, but saying goodbye to you turned his world upside down. He doesn’t know who he is anymore. Just that he isn’t yours. Someone else belongs to you now. Despite the shower he took before leaving, he knows he’ll never be able to wash the scent of you off of him.
Namjoon peels out of the hotel parking lot, but keeps looking over at Yoongi, who finally can’t stand the way Namjoon is looking at him.
“It’s Y/n, alright?”
“You finally told her what happened?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“And nothing. We talked. That’s it.”
“And you’re leaving without her? That girl loves you Yoongi. She always has. There’s no way she heard the truth and let you walk away again.”
“I didn’t give her a choice, Joon. I’m no good for her. I broke her heart one too many times.”
“What do you mean you didn’t give her a choice?” Namjoon is staring at Yoongi now, forgetting the road entirely.
“Watch where you’re driving! God, how you convinced the DMV to give you a license is beyond me.”
Namjoon pulls over into a random parking lot, placing the car in park so he can look at Yoongi properly.
“Yoongi. Did you decide for her, again, might I add, what’s best for her?”
“You don't understand—she was pregnant! The day I left her she was going to tell me! She came home and I was gone. Can you imagine what that must have been like for her? Because I can. She fucking lost the baby, Joon, because she was so broken. Obliterated as she put it. I destroy everything Joon, I can’t do that to her again.”
“Dude! You are literally doing that right now if we don’t go back there!”
“She’s moved on, she has someone new!”
“What are you talking about? She hasn’t dated anyone since you went into protection.”
This was news to Yoongi.
“How do you know? Hobi told me—”
“Hobi was told to lie to you,” Namjoon sighs, running his hand over his face and into his hair.
“Her best friend wouldn’t tell us what happened, but she said under no circumstances were we to let you near her. ‘He put her through so much already’ and all that bullshit. She wanted us to make you think she wasn’t available. But that was before we all found out why you left.”
“But...” Yoongi’s brain is flying, trying to make sense of all the information he’s learning.
“She wouldn’t have hooked up with you if she was taken, bro.”
“How do you—? I never said—”
“I can see the hickeys. They weren’t there yesterday.”
Yoongi’s ears are turning red as a blush takes over his alabaster skin tone.
“I’m turning around.”
You haven’t moved. You have 15 minutes to get out of the hotel room before it’s officially past check out, but you can’t get up. You sunk to the floor, still wrapped in the blanket you had pulled from the bed.
Yoongi left you. Again. How many times is he going to make decisions for you? What happened to the man who used to talk with you about things? Was he so scared that he had to take control of everything? You are an adult too. You used to be an equal part of the relationship. Would he ever see you as an equal and value your input?
Loud knocking shocks you into movement, standing, as you glance at the clock.
Your 15 minutes are up.
“Hold on, I’m almost packed!” You shout as you run to grab your dress and throw the sheet back on the bed. You don’t care how disheveled you look. You don’t plan on seeing any housekeepers in this hotel again. You aren’t coming back to Seoul. No matter what. The knocking grows louder, more insistent, so you rush over to the door before you finished zipping the dress up all the way.
“I said hold o— Yoongi?”
He’s panting, out of breath, but that doesn’t stop him from closing the space between you. His palm softly caresses your face as his free hand snakes around your waist.
“I was wrong.”
“About?” you quirk an eyebrow up.
“I shouldn’t have left. I shouldn’t have made that decision for you. If you want me, I’m yours.”
He stares into your eyes, willing you to say it. Tell him that you want him.
“Because...I want you. It’s always been you, Y/n. I love you, fuck I love you so much. Being without you has been—”
“You’re mine. You always have been,” your voice is quiet as you interrupt him, but he hears it nonetheless.
The smile that overtakes his face is one that sets the butterflies in motion in your tummy. He’s kissing your face, showering you with tiny pecks all over your cheeks and nose, pulling you closer to him.
“Let’s go.”
You’re following him swiftly as he pulls you along, heading out of the hotel towards Namjoon’s car. Before you can reach the car, you are met with snow flurries sprinkling the air around you.
Yoongi is throwing his zip hoodie around your shoulders; being yours comes naturally to him.
“I always hoped that someday you would be waiting for me.”
“Of course, it’s always you. It’ll always be you for me.”
He leans down to kiss you as the snow falls around you, and finally you feel the genuine warmth of this love settle in for what you hope is forever.
Thank you to all of our amazing writers who participated in August Angst! Please check out their stories using the hashtag and the link to the AO3 Collection of stories! @mapofthesoulot7 @ARMYiGot7_LY @Virgochic84 @namjinio @a_bangtan_babe @sunkissedwriter @ahemahem_7 @bangtanlove86 @SinfullyJinnie @kurogxmi @KandieDiamonds
https://archiveofourown.org/collections/BTS_August_Angst
"Just One Word...
I'll Let The World Burn..."
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Inspired by beautiful (and heartbreaking) stories "I Would Die For You" and "Guardian Angel" written by @promptandpros
(When I read the first story I couldn't get it out of my head. It's just sticks with me. And now when I read the second one, I just couldn't resist.)
On the Way Home
Imagine August Walker calling you while he's on his way home.
T/W: No real triggers, just a little bit of August, a pet name, and him threatening to bust your ass if you aren't ready on time. Super short and simple.
A/N: I have never written anything for August before, so please be nice. This is kind of just testing the waters. Lol. I DO NOT take credit for this gif, credit goes to the maker.
Your cell phone rings and you rush to answer it, fumbling over the stuff on the coffee table as you go to reach for it. Today had been a mostly lazy day for you, lounging around in something comfortable. You had forgotten that you were supposed to be dressed and ready by a specific time.
"He-hello?" You answer with a smile. "Kitten, I am on my way home."
You couldn't help but smile, wiggling slightly in your seat. You were so excited to see him, he had been away on work for so long now. You look at the time and then it dawns on you: you were supposed to be ready already! You jump up off the couch and quickly walk to the bedroom.
"Are you ready for dinner?" He asks you. "Um.." "Kitten, you better be ready. I will be home very, very soon."
You let out a nervous chuckle and a small sigh. He knew you weren't ready by the sound of your response. Well, more like the lack of your response. He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he looks down and checks his watch.
"You have one hour to be ready, or when I get home, your ass is going to be busted."
"Yes Sir." You say as you quickly pull some clothes from the closet and toss them on your bed.
"Good Girl. I'll see you soon." He hangs up the phone and slides his phone into his pocket. You hang up the phone and toss it down on the bed next to the clothes. What are you going to wear?
