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mymoonagedaydream · 2 years ago

Text

Part 10

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Language, anti-religious sentiment throughout

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

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Your adrenaline rush quickly faded once you were alone again, leaving behind an incredibly unpleasant feeling of churning anxiety in your chest. You made a mug of hot tea, unsurprised when you opened the fridge to find that the milk was two weeks out of date, and collapsed onto the couch. Maintaining deep, controlled breaths and whacking the TV up to full volume eventually helped you pull yourself out of your spiral.

Bucky didn’t get home until the early evening. You sat him down and reeled it all off, making sure to reassure him throughout that you were fine and closely monitoring his reactions. He seemed to take it surprisingly well, staying calm and still, not interrupting with any kind of dramatic outburst. You thought maybe he’d finally turned a corner with his anger.

That was, until you got to the end of your story.

“He didn’t come back, right?” You shook your head. He nodded to himself and clenched his hands together tight, dropping his head and taking a deep, shaky breath. “Fuckin’ asshole.”

You could see he was ramping up to something so you tried your best to diffuse. “It’s fine, I’m fine. I handled it.”

“You shouldn’t have to handle shit like that.”

“Well, yeah, agreed but it could’ve been much worse, right?”

“Yeah,” he stood up suddenly, “he could’a hurt you.”

“He didn’t.”

“That’s not the point.”

Grabbing his jacket from the arm of the couch, he yanked it over his arms while storming towards the door. You launched yourself after him. There was no fucking way were you going to stand back and let this happen again. You just about managed to grab his arm before he made it out of the flat, using all your strength to tug him backwards, placing yourself between him and the exit. His judgement was being seriously impaired by his anger, that much was obvious, so he needed a sharp reality check to ground him again.

“Do you really think this is worth going back to jail for?” His chest was heaving, eyes staying intentionally diverted away from yours, “cause I guarantee I won’t be here when you get out.”

He was still for a second. You folded your arms and moved out of his way, watching, waiting to see what he would do. If he left, this was over.

He threw his jacket to the ground in frustration and ran his fingers through his hair, turning back towards you with a regretful grimace. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’re right,” he held his arms up in defeat, “y’know, I really try to be rational, but it all goes to hell when I look at you.”

What a strange mix of accusation and romance.

“Maybe so, but if you don’t chill the fuck out very soon you’ll only be looking at me through bulletproof glass.”

“So you’d visit me, then?”

“Only to say I told you so.”

He chuckled and rubbed his forehead exasperatedly. “Man, I wish everyone would just leave us alone.”

A light pinged on inside your head. You eyed him intently, weighing up whether or not to share what you were thinking. It was something you’d debated before, something you were considering bringing up with him closer to the end of summer, something that could potentially solve all of the problems in this relationship.

Fuck it, now was as good a time as any.

“We need to get out of this town, Buck. There’s nothing here for us.”

He shot you a confused squint. “You wanna move?”

“Look, I know it seems rushed, but I really think there’s a chance we could be happy somewhere else. Between your parents, my parents and your weird creepy friends we’ve basically got no chance here. We need to get away.”

He looked away, considering your proposal. You just shifted on the spot awkwardly for what felt like hours. Eventually he smiled, then grinned, and soon enough he was beaming at you.

“Alright. Let’s get outta here.”

“Yeah?” Your head began to spin with possibility and optimism. “Where should we go?”

“Wherever you want darlin’.”

—

You spent the whole next day researching places you could potentially move to on a shoestring budget. Something small, cosy and close to the beach would’ve been ideal, but anything a significant distance away with four walls and a roof would do. At this point you’d be willing to set up camp in the middle of fucking Death Valley if it meant getting away from this shithole town.

You tried your best to get some preferences out of Bucky, but he insisted that he wasn’t picky, and that he’d be happy as long as you were. Still, you made sure to factor dive bars and potential motorcyclist populations into your decision making.

When he got home from work, you cornered him in the kitchen, enthusiastically telling him about everything you’d found. He looked like he’d had a pretty tough day but your excitement seemed to cheer him up a bit. The warm smile that stayed planted on his face made your stomach flutter and the back of your neck tingle.

After dinner, the two of you curled up on the couch and flicked through beautiful, unbelievably expensive beachfront properties online, mutually dreaming about the kind of future in which you’d be able to afford them. His plan was to open up a body shop of his own, one so successful that the profits would support the both of you. You thanked him for the offer but insisted that you’d get very bored if you never worked again. He said you could be his receptionist. You jabbed him in the ribs.

Anyway, your current situation was presenting enough issues of its own without you worrying about an uncertain future, the most pressing one being that most of your belongings were still at your parents’ house. There was a vague plan in your head for how you were going to retrieve them but, in all honesty, you were really trying not to think too much about it. You had a terrible tendency to overthink, and doing that would only cause you to put it off for longer.

Unfortunately, you’d completely forgotten to tell Bucky all this, so he decided to bring it up casually while you were doing the dishes.

“So, when are we paying your folks a visit?”

“We’re not,” he flung the dish cloth over his shoulder and shot you a confused frown, “I still have a key so I was thinking we’d sneak over on Sunday morning while they’re at church.”

“You sure they’ll be out?”

“Mhmm, unless there’s been a major overhaul in the Catholic church that I missed.”

“Damn, that’s a shame. I’d really like to get to know them better.”

“You’re such an ass,” you grabbed a handful of soap bubbles and blew them at him, laughing as he tried to protect his hair, “they’d only call the cops on you anyway.”

“That’s half the fun.”

You spun round and playfully pointed a finger at him. “Hey, I thought we’d established that I am not cut out for being a prison girlfriend. For one, I couldn’t pull off the juicy couture tracksuit.”

A mischievous smile spread across his face. “Oh, you definitely could.”

—

Sunday came around a little too fast for your liking. The two of you walked to your parents’ house first thing in the morning, but only after you’d taken an unbelievably long time convincing Bucky that he wouldn’t be able to strap two suitcases to the back of his bike. He’d also suggested towing them on their castors, like trailers. You were moving in with this man.

The closer you got, the tighter your grip on Bucky’s hand became. He was talking constantly in an effort to distract you, bless him, but nothing could’ve calmed you down in this situation. You were a bucket of nerves.

When the house came into view and you saw that the car was gone, your anxiety was quelled a little, but you stayed cautious. As long as you’d been alive they’d never missed Sunday mass but, by now, you’d completely given up trying to predict their behaviour. You wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d both stuffed themselves into the mailbox, waiting to jump out at you.

With the coast seemingly clear, you unlocked the house and scurried inside. Bucky stepped through the door and immediately couldn’t hold in his laughter. You weren’t sure if it was all the crucifixes, the bible quote plaques on the kitchen wall or the plastic coated sofa cushions, but he was endlessly amused.

After letting him have his fun for a while, you gestured for him to follow you upstairs. Reaching your bedroom door, you turned to warn him about how your mother’s taste had inexplicably worsened while decorating in there, but he’d disappeared. You heard faint chuckling coming from your parents’ bedroom.

Rolling your eyes and huffing, you trudged through to see him holding their bedside bible, flicking through it amusedly.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to find the bit where it tells you which sex positions are god-approved.”

He caught you off guard, making you burst out laughing, the funniest part being that he genuinely seemed to be invested in his search.

You knew your mother would absolutely flip her shit if she found out Bucky had been in her bedroom, but knowing that made you much less likely to drag him out.

“Try Leviticus,” you strolled over and rested your chin on his shoulder, “that’s where all the weird stuff is.”

He raised a cheeky eyebrow and started skimming through faster, eventually stopping to read a few lines, feign disappointment at the content, and rip the page out. You tried to grab it from him, but he moved it just out of your reach and carried on.

“Oh, here it is.” Still holding the book with one hand, he suddenly grabbed you round the waist with his other arm and pushed you onto your parents’ bed, climbing on top of you. “Let’s give some of these a try.”

You laughed as he threw the bible onto the floor and started kissing down your neck. Brushing your hand through his hair, you almost got lost in the moment, before remembering how fucking huge the stakes were here.

“We really don’t have time for this, Buck.”

“We always have time for something that’ll piss your mom off.”

“You just being here will piss her off.”

He brought his face back up to yours. “Yeah, but not as much as having my bare ass on her pillow.”

You shoved his shoulders, making him reluctantly push himself back onto his feet and pull you up after him. The two of you headed to your room but left the bed sheets messed up and the bible pages scattered all over the floor. You didn’t mind her thinking something had happened, even though it hadn’t. You just wished you could’ve seen the look on her face.

Time was ticking but, thankfully, you’d never actually had the chance to properly unpack. All you really had to do was grab one or two things and zip your suitcases back up.

“Jesus Christ, are your clothes made of lead?” Bucky’s only job was to carry one case downstairs, yet he still found cause for complaint.

“Oh that one’s mainly textbooks, that’s why you’re carrying it.”

He frowned, still bent double, dragging the suitcase into the hallway. “Can’t you just leave those here? You’re not gonna need them.”

“I know, but my parents paid for them, and I’m gonna resell them. Will probably fetch a decent chunk of our first month’s rent.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

He disappeared down the hallway as you finished gathering your last few things. You zipped up the second case and rolled it out of your bedroom, endlessly relieved thinking about the prospect of never coming back here. Even if your current plans didn’t work out, you were determined that this severing of ties was permanent.

As you reached the bottom of the stairs, you saw Bucky on the sidewalk outside, sitting on your suitcase and lighting a cigarette. He looked up towards you, but his attention was immediately caught by something else that made his face drop. You stepped through the door and followed his gaze.

It was your parents’ car, pulling up on the driveway. They must’ve left church early. Of course that’d happen on the one day you really needed it not to.

You tried to come up with some course of action, but all that was going through your mind was fuckshitfuck. You heard the fast clicking of heels against stone and your mother appeared from behind the car, storming towards Bucky with her usual venomous expression.

“Get off of my property.”

He looked down. “I’m pretty sure this is a sidewalk.”

You yanked your suitcase over the threshold and slammed the door behind you, drawing her attention.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She screeched, probably waking up every baby within a five-mile-radius.

You didn’t respond, marching away from the house as fast as possible and keeping your gaze fixed forwards. Before you reached the sidewalk, however, you felt a hand grip your arm tight and yank you back, almost pulling you off your feet. You turned round to see your father, a frenzied expression plastered on his bright red face.

Before you could really process what was happening, Bucky had planted himself in front of you, giving your father’s shoulders an almighty shove. Your arm was released as they squared up to each other. Your mother, in the wings, was actually encouraging her husband to start throwing punches- because that’s what good Catholics do.

Then, something happened that you never would’ve been able to predict.

Bucky walked away.

He reached for your hand and led you back to the sidewalk, grabbing the other suitcase without breaking stride. The two of you hustled away from the house as fast as you could, not looking back or responding to anything shouted after you.

Despite all that had just happened, and how fucking pissed you were about it, you couldn’t help but crack a smile.

You’d never seen him walk away from a fight on his own before.

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Part 11

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years ago

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Hi! Could I request Malleus, Azul, Idia, Rook, and Jade headcanons where Yuu — when not with Grim and the ADeuce duo — is oftentimes trailing after/observing them and asking questions about their magic. Because originally, Yuu was a skeptic when it comes to the supernatural/magic from their previous world and always stuck to the scientific explanation of things, and now they can't help but be a curious cat.

Okay, I think I’ve finally (kind of) calmed down from the chapter 6 adrenaline rush (maybe) 💦 To my backlog of writing requests!

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Malleus doesn’t mind your presence--in fact, he seems to welcome it. It’s such a rarity for him to be asked questions, let alone be approached by others in the first place. He doesn’t dislike it at all, so he’ll wave you along, encouraging you to follow in his path.

Malleus has a way of oversimplifying spellcasting. As a magical prodigy, spells that would take a considerable amount of energy and effort for others takes him only a flick of the wrist or the wave of a hand. He’ll pull off some impressive feat, then shrug as though it was nothing while you’re still busy picking your jaw up from the ground.

He likes seeing your shocked looks scale along with the impressiveness of his magic. Disappearing and reappearing behind you grants him a spooked gasp, but when he makes the entire Botanical Garden bloom at once? Your entire face breaks wonderfully. “Fufufu. That’s quite an expression you’re wearing, Child of Man. Let us see if I can wean one able to top that.”

When he has the chance to launch into an explanation, he can talk for hours. Malleus speaks about magic and how it theoretically works, as well as its practical applications, using examples from the Valley of Thorns to illustrate his points. It’s clear from the warmth in his eyes that he has a lot of pride in his abilities, and in his country. If you can’t believe in magic over science... at the very least, you can believe in Malleus’s love for his home.

Azul doesn’t mind answering some questions here and there (it leaves you indebted to him, and you never know when he’ll to call on you for a “favor” in return). The way he explains things is quite methodical, likening everything to a business model or some kind of transaction. “Equivalent exchange”, you might call it.

However, Azul really does not appreciate you poking around in his business! How is a merman to do his work (academic assignments, Mostro Lounge management, and sketchy dealings) if you’re hovering over him so often? You’re scaring off both his classmates and his clientele, and that’s not good for business!

Though he doesn’t outwardly express this fear, he worries that you following him around will lead to glimpsing an embarrassing moment that could be used against him! (... After all, that’s basically Jade’s job, so Azul acutely knows how this blackmailing thing works.)

He tactfully pulls you aside for a private audience, suggesting that the two of you hash out a “negotiation” of sorts. Once you’ve sat down, Azul already has a pen and a contract prepared. “If you want to cross a bridge, Ramshackle Prefect-san... or, in this case, receive my tutoring, you’ve got to pay the toll,” he explains. “Take a gulp and take a breath--go ahead and sign the scroll.”

Idia’s unique blend of magic and machinery had your interests piqued since day one... but too bad that he wants nothing to do with you! He finds your questions bothersome, especially when he’d rather be playing a video game or watching an anime than socialize.

Idia keeps trying to shoo you off or shake you off whenever you’re trailing after his tablet! In fact, he has the sound sensitivity on his tablet set to maximum just so the device can pick up your voice and footsteps from a large radius away (and he can get the jump start on distancing himself from you!)

If you happen to be lucky and catch Idia physically attending classes, he’ll pump up the volume on his headphones and pretend as though he doesn’t hear you talking. At some point, he even considers sending Ortho to laser beam you away, but ultimately decides against it since he wants to avoid getting into a lawsuit.

Idia eventually loses his patience and goes on a rant to insult you, “E-Even if I were to explain how magic works to a total noob like you, you wouldn’t even understand it! Why? Cuz I’m a genius and you can’t possibly comprehend how high level and superior my brain and my thinking are!! It’s like the difference between a level 1 NPC villager and the final boss of the last dungeon!!”

You always lose track of Rook when you decide to tail him. One second he’s there, the next second, he’s right behind you. Your breath goes short when you catch his expression. He has a dangerous look in his eyes, despite his smile, as he regards you.

“Well, now... If it isn’t you, Trickster!” Rook laughs, dispelling the tension in the air. “Forgive me for being on guard--it’s a habit, I’m afraid, of being a huntsman. You should have approached more earnestly if you wished to speak with me, none of this sneaking about business.”

Once you explain your situation, Rook eagerly agrees to assist! He can ramble for quite some time about the intricacies of magic, artfully weaving words together (sometimes in way too much detail, and then he gets sidetracked and meanders from the main idea). The big takeaway from him is that magic is very visual--so long as you can picture it happening, then it can manifest.

You can’t quite bring yourself to believe him, so you press Rook for more information. Instead of a proper answer, he mysteriously taps a finger against his lips and winks. “Not all questions have answers, and not every occurrence has an explanation. Ah--but that is the beauty of life, non? Experiencing, discovering, learning new things... There is nothing quite as beautiful!”

Jade answers your questions politely enough, but the more things you ask of him, the more... passive-aggressive and snarky his responses seem to be. ”... And that is how it functions. It is quite simple, isn’t it? Even a primary school student would be able to tell you this much.”

When you ask if you’re annoying him or wasting his time, he insists that you aren’t. “Amusing myself with the ill-informed and ignorant will never be a waste of my time.” You narrow your eyes at him and ask if he’s low key mocking you, to which he responds with a smile and a reassuring “Yes.”

As for following Jade around and observing his magic in action, well... That’s a whole new can of worms. He’s a very guarded and private person, so he detests people snooping around him even though that’s what he does for Azul. If you start trailing after Jade, you’ll soon find the situation reversed, with the eel chasing you threateningly, magical pen poised to strike you down.

He quickly corners you--and then, the curve of his smile goes from kind to cruel. “Oya. Wherever are you running off to, Prefect-san? I believe you wished to speak with me--so, by all means, please feel free to speak your mind. Those words may just be your very last.” (If magic really does exist, you hope it’s capable of reviving you once Jade’s through with his interrogation.)

#twisted wonderland headcanons #twst #Idia Shroud #Malleus Draconia #Azul Ashengrotto #twisted wonderland #Jade Leech #Rook Hunt #disney twisted wonderland #curiouser and curiouser #Reader #self insert

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dumdumsun · 4 years ago

Text

Of Starlight

A/N: Honestly one of my favorites

Word Count: 3040

Warnings: mentions of violence, guns and blood

————————————

Chapter 6: The Best of the Best

For what seemed like the hundredth time, the video footage of Grace standing by as Reginald writhed in his bed flashed before (Y/N)’s (e/c) eyes, along with the eyes of her siblings who stood beside her. Though the evidence stood true and before her, her gut was begging her not to believe what she saw. Swallowing, she tuned in to hear what Vanya had to say, “I mean, do you really think Mom would hurt Dad?”

“You haven’t been home in a long time, Vanya,” Luther turned away from the television to his sister. “Maybe you don’t know Grace anymore.”

“If he was poisoned, it would have shown in the coroner’s report.” Diego stated matter-of-factly, (Y/N) nodding in agreement. But Luther hadn’t been so easily convinced.

“Well, I don’t need a report to tell me what I can see with my own eyes.”

“Then your vision’s fucked, dingus,” (Y/N) moved closer to the television, clicking a button to rewind. “Look. Dad has the monocle on, then Mom stands up, the monocle is gone.”

“Oh, yeah!” Klaus chuckled, the clone from earlier still standing at his side. Diego walked away from the television.

“She wasn’t poisoning him. She was… taking it. To clean it.” He guessed. Everyone’s bodies turned towards their vigilante brother, Luther in disbelief.

“Then where is it? No, I’ve searched the house, including all her things. She doesn’t have it.” A moment of silence passed before Diego raised his hand.

“That’s because I took it from her. After the funeral.”

“You’ve had the monocle this whole time? What the hell, Diego?!” Allison leaned away from the pillar she was against. Luther stuck his hand out immediately, demanding Diego give the monocle to him.

“I threw it away.”

“You… what?” Luther blinked as Allison scoffed, going for a drink from her glass. (Y/N) rubbed her temples as Diego explained himself,

“Look, I knew that if you found it on Mom, you’d lose your shit, just like you’re doing right now.”

“Diego, you son of a bitch.” Luther took a couple threatening steps forward as Diego got into a fighting stance. (Y/N) and Vanya immediately got in between the two of them, halting both their actions.

“Hey. No. Calm down. Look, I know Dad wasn’t exactly an open book. But I do remember one thing he said. Mom was, well, designed to be a caretaker, but… also as a protector.”

“Oh, yeah,” (Y/N) slowly nodded in realization. “She was programmed to intervene if someone’s life was in danger.”

“Well, if her hardware is degrading, then… We need to turn her off.”

“Luther!-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, wait,” Diego’s voice rose in panic and anger. “She’s not just a vacuum cleaner you can throw in a closet! She feels things, I’ve seen it!”

“She just stood there, Diego, and watched our father die.”

“I’m with Luther.” Allison shrugged.

“Surprise, surprise.” Diego muttered.

“Shut up.” She shot back as (Y/N) crossed her arms.

“Well, I’m with Diego.” She voiced her opinion, her brother gratefully smiling at her. She returned the expression as Luther scoffed.

“And what does your opinion matter? The moment you moved out, you went and found the woman who gave you up the moment you were born-”

“Don’t you ever, ever, speak about my mother that way!” She boomed as she pointed a finger at him. “That woman has done more for me than I’ve ever asked of her and has supported me through everything I’ve done since I left this shithole! You have no right to give your fucking opinion on her! Even with that said, Grace is my mother as well and I will treat her as such. We were all raised by her, so my opinion matters just as much as yours, Apeman.” When she stepped back, Diego rested his hands on her shoulders from behind to steady her. Luther only stared at her in shock, not expecting her to blow up at him. Backing down, he turned to Vanya, as well as everyone else, to hear her opinion. The woman looked between her siblings, stammering out her answer before Diego interrupted her,

“Yeah, she shouldn’t get a vote.” He removed his hands from (Y/N) and moved away from them. She and Luther were going to start yet another argument between them when Vanya finally gained some confidence.

“I was gonna say that I agree with you.”

“Okay! She should get a vote,” He concluded before turning to Klaus, who leaned against another pillar. “What about you, stoner boy? What do you got?” Klaus looked up at them with raised brows.

“Oh, so, what? You need my help now? Oh, ‘Get out of the van, Klaus!’ ‘Well, welcome back to the van!’.”

“What van?” Allison questioned, clearly not understanding the situation that happened earlier. (Y/N) rolled her eyes at her druggie brother as Luther scoffed.

“What’s it gonna be, Klaus?”

“I’m with Diego, because screw you!” He furrowed his brows as Diego pointed at him, pleased that he and his brother agreed on something. “And if Ben were here, he’d agree with me.” A second afterwards, he hissed at the air beside him, (Y/N) guessing that Ben had disagreed with Klaus, but she wasn’t going to voice that. She sighed and turned to Luther.

“That’s three, Spaceboy-”

“Wait-”

“To two.” Diego finished, holding the numbers up with his fingers.

“It’s not final. Five’s not here.” Allison pointed out and (Y/N) sighed. He wouldn’t be here to give his say on the matter, anyway. Diego groaned.

“Oh, come on, he’d just agree with whatever (Y/N) has to say.” He motioned toward Number Eight, who bristled to argue with him.

“No, everyone in the family gets to vote. We owe each other that.” Allison shook her head as Luther and Vanya agreed with her. They all left the room, minus Diego, who stayed with a look of defeat. (Y/N) pat his shoulder as she left. She truly didn’t want Grace to be shut off. Granted, it was suspicious that she watched Reginald die without acting on it, but she would never hurt anyone. She showed the most care to them as kids and she couldn’t disregard that for anything.

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As the night washed over the sky, (Y/N) found that she would not have been much use to Five. When she left the Academy to join him, she saw that he still sat in that van, still watching that building. As much as she had begged to help, she was slowly starting to realize that Five wasn’t letting her in on everything. She knew he hadn’t been lying about the apocalypse, but she wished he would’ve told her whatever else he was in on. She felt horrible about it, but without even alerting him of her presence, she left him and arrived back at the mansion. As she wandered, she still felt tension between her siblings, and decided that it would be best not to interact with them for now. However, she felt a tug pulling her towards the bathroom. This familiar tug was what alerted her of her clones’ presence nearby. She followed the pull and peeked inside to see Klaus taking a bubble bath, her clone still watching over him. She quietly giggled at the sight, startling her brother and causing him to sit up quickly, some water splashing over the tub and onto the floor.

“Christ, (Y/N)! Don’t scare me like that!”

“You okay?” She whispered, side-eyeing her clone. Klaus sighed and relaxed once again.

“Yes, dear. Now can you take your robot with you? It’s been following me around for hours!”

“No, I still want it to make sure you don’t die. It’ll help if you, uh… drown or something,” She grinned before leaving the room, ignoring Klaus’ calls to her. As she continued to wander around, she found Diego, who seemed to be in deep thought. When he caught sight of his sister, his tense posture relaxed before he went to stand at her side. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“Just thinkin’,” He answered. “About what you said about Mom… how she raised us all and cared for us… makes me wonder how Luther could just choose her over Dad…” He shook his head and clenched his jaw. (Y/N) surveyed his expression, gently nudging him.

“I just don’t think Luther has much of an emotional connection with Mom… Not like you do,” He turned to her with a questioning gaze. “Oh, come on, Diego. You are a Mama’s Boy and you know it. But it’s not a bad thing! It’s not like Dad gave a shit about her. It’s good that someone checks up on her and actually takes her thoughts and emotions into consideration. You have no idea how good it feels to hear your kids ask how you’re doing.” The two shared a soft chuckle as they headed towards the rooms again. They halted their steps, however, when they heard guns cocking. Slowly turning in the direction it came from, they saw two people in suits and creepy kids’ masks pointing guns at them, ready to shoot.

“Shit. Go, go!” Diego pushed (Y/N) forward, the two bolting down the hallway as gunshots zoomed past them. Right as Diego launched his knives and hit the intruders, a bullet grazed (Y/N)’s right outer thigh. She cried out in pain and nearly fell if it hadn’t been for Diego catching her. Without a second thought, he lifted her onto his back and ran further down the hall, swiftly swinging around a corner and hiding the best he could. As gently as possible, he set (Y/N) down to her feet, the girl holding in a wince as she supported herself on the wall.

The sound of footsteps echoed and increased in volume. Just when they were right beside the two, Diego jumped out of their hiding place and attacked the taller intruder with his knife. (Y/N) heard him call out for his partner to shoot, but they couldn’t get a clear shot of Diego, not being able to see (Y/N) from where they were. Diego kicked his opponent against the wall before taking off down the hall, but not before grabbing his sister. She tried to ignore the throbbing in her leg as they ran just above the parlor. Without warning, Diego wrapped his arms around her and threw them off the bannister, landing on the couch in the parlor. Since he had broken her fall, her body nearly knocked the wind out of him, but he didn’t let himself recover. He jumped off of the couch with (Y/N) and hid behind a table. Once his arms were removed from her frame, she tried to stop the bleeding in her leg by pressing down on her wound. Diego placed his own hand down over hers, eyes moving around frantically before they landed on the portrait of Reginald on the wall across from them, bullets lodged into his face.

Footsteps approached the parlor and his head snapped in their direction. “(Y/N), stay here.” He whispered right beside her ear. She looked up and shook her head.

“No, I wanna help-”

“Do not help. Stay fucking here.” He violently hissed before starting to shuffle away, but he didn’t get very far, for bullets started flying towards them. Diego quickly wrapped his arms around his sister again and threw them down to the floor, his body curling over hers. The bullets stopped and they heard fighting, (Y/N) recognizing Allison’s grunts. Diego moved himself from his sister and allowed her to climb onto his back again. She whimpered as she willed herself to move and wrap her legs around his waist, arms around his neck. When Diego stood, the two intruders had been thrown out of the room by Luther. Allison whirled towards Diego with wide eyes.

“Who the hell are these guys?! (Y/N), did they hurt you?!”

“Yeah, kinda…” She sighed as Luther turned to them.

“You’re welcome.” His words made (Y/N) groan as Diego shifted her on his back.

“I was doing fine!”

“Oh, yeah, you really had them-”

“(Y/N) is fucking hurt, what the hell did you want me-” Diego stopped talking when the intruders started shooting once again, everyone ducking down. In his haste, (Y/N) had fallen off his back and landed on the ground. She started to do an army crawl out of the room along with her brother, who yelled for Luther and Allison to go. When the two were on their feet again, Diego grabbed her hand and continued to run, the intruders heading to the opposite direction. “We need to get you to a safe place!”

“Nowhere is really safe at this point!” (Y/N) let him drag her wherever. He eventually stopped and turned her towards him. Sweat covered her forehead and blood seeped through her pants. Her eyes met his, full of concern. She shook her head and shakily sung her tune, her clone appearing beside them. Hating the order she was about to give, she clenched her teeth. “Protect me,” Immediately, the clone went to attack Diego, but (Y/N) stopped it, climbing onto its back. “Follow Diego.”

Just as the three headed towards the basement, where the shorter of the intruders had followed Allison, Klaus had been dancing around the house, completely unaware of the threat around him due to the headphones he wore. (Y/N)’s clone from earlier simply followed, standing to cover him if any bullets came near. When the three entered the basement, they saw that Allison had just been struck and was now leaning over the pool table, her lip bleeding. “You wanna rumor this psycho?” Diego questioned, Allison wiping her lip.

“I don’t need to, because this bitch just pissed me off.” She spit before turning to the woman.

“We just want the boy.” She tried to explain before Allison attacked her. Five… These bastards are looking for Five… (Y/N) thought. That information alone made her blood boil. She hopped off her clone’s back just as Allison was kicked to the ground by the intruder. Diego whistled as he approached her, the two starting their own fight. Following its second order, the clone stepped forward to follow Diego, but turned back to the stumbling (Y/N). It was confused, and she could tell. (Y/N) quietly cursed before commanding it to help her fight. The intruder broke away from Diego and Allison and headed towards (Y/N) and her lookalike. Number Eight smirked and grabbed her clone by the hand, using all her strength to swing it around. It used its legs to kick off the wall and then the woman in her chest, causing her to fall to the ground with an “oomph!”. The clone, after landing on its feet, steadied (Y/N) by her arms. This gave the intruder time to stand and make her way out of the room, but not before Diego launched, what (Y/N) could only tell as something sharp, into her leg. She cried out in pain, but continued up the stairs. The four followed her not too long afterwards, but lost her once they were at the top. (Y/N) whimpered again and hummed her second tune, the clone disappearing.

“You good?” Diego held onto her, receiving a nod in answer.

When the three made their way to the entrance, Allison cried out to Luther, who was laying on the ground in pain. (Y/N) wanted to join the two in helping him up, but her strength was wearing out, so she leaned against the wall. Looking up, she saw the female intruder going to mess with the chandelier. Luther had noticed at the same time, for they both called out for their siblings to watch out. Luther pushed Diego and Allison out of the way, allowing it to land on him. (Y/N) slumped to the floor as her breathing got shallow. She could only hope Luther had been safe before she blacked out, but not before she sang her three-note tune almost silently.

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(Y/N) awoke to a sharp pain in her leg. She almost shot up, but felt a hand on the flat of her chest. It was Allison. “H-Hey, hey, it’s okay, sis. Just patching your leg up…”

“W-Who?” (Y/N) turned her head to see her clone, silently stitching up her leg. She let out a breath and relaxed against the cushions of the couch she was laying on. She turned her head to Vanya, who was nursing her own bleeding head with a rag. “Shit, Vanya, I didn’t even know you were here. You okay?” She received a nod from her sister before she heard footsteps. Diego walked in, his breathing shaky. Vanya looked up and called out to him softly. He turned to her with a cold stare.

“What are you still doing here?”

“I’m just trying to help-”

“No, you could’ve been killed! Or got any of us killed. Shit, we’re lucky (Y/N) didn’t die from blood loss!” He yelled before leaning closer to Allison. “She is a liability.” He muttered before heading towards (Y/N). Kneeling in front of her, he watched her face scrunch up in pain as the clone lifted her leg slightly to wrap it up. She reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m okay, don’t worry…”

“I told you not to help.” He slightly growled and held the hand on his shoulder. Past the growl, (Y/N) detected a whimper. Looking into his eyes, she felt the pain in his stare. Only it was a type of pain she knew all too well.

“Diego, what happened…?” She whispered just as she saw Vanya stand from the corner of her eye. She and her brother turned and watched her leave.

“Vanya, wait.” Allison tried to rush after their sister, but Diego told her to just let Vanya go, that it was for the best. (Y/N) heavily sighed and let her head fall back against the cushions. She hoped Five was doing fine, wherever he was.

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Taglist: @melinda-hargreeves @43sparrows @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #tua fanfic #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #tua five #number five #number five x reader #umbrella academy x reader #of starlight #tua #tua x reader #five x reader

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echo-hiraeth · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 6: “Te quiero”

Part of the “Illicit Limerence” series

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: Having her back in his arms, Javier needs to figure out what happened and more importantly what to do next.

Warnings: swearing, medical check-ups, angst, mentions of abusive household/parent, mentions of injury

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“¿Qué paso?”, he repeated, dashing his way over to you.

You opened your mouth but the only thing you managed to choke out was a loud sob. Protesting, aching muscles as you launched yourself into his arms, knees buckling as he grabbed a hold of you, entire body shaking with pent-up fear and emotion. He clung onto you, slowly sliding down the door to sit on the floor, keeping you pressed against his chest. Your cries sounded almost like screams, the intensity of it all causing Javier’s heart to go in a frenzy of trepidation and alarm. He’d never seen you like this, he knew what you were like when you were shaken or anxious, and this was anything but that. You were fucking hysterical, the way you ripped at the fabric of his shit not lost on him.

He stared straight ahead of him as he just held you, not bothering to say anything or try to touch you. It was best to let it all out now and God-fucking-damn was he happy he was here. When you hadn’t called him even once today, he grew a little worried, though not enough to do anything about it. It wasn’t until he’d talked to Steve about it, who revealed what had previously gone down in your childhood home, that he grew worried. By the time he’d gotten home from work, which was rather late, you still hadn’t called him. It was then Javier decided to call the hotel and after some light blackmailing the receptionist informed him that you’d left a couple hours ago. He’d fucking ran out of his apartment, not bothering to even tempt the hell that was evening traffic as he just sprinted through the familiar streets. By the time he was in front of your door, out of breath and soaked in sweat, it was about half past eleven. He knew there was a late flight and that you could be coming home any minute, so he decided to call Connie and Steve, informing them about what he’d discovered. They’d promised to call him if you showed up at their door, but just as he hung up the phone, disappearing in the bathroom to wash the sweat off of his face, he’d heard you come in.

The poor man’s heart had crumbled at the sight. You were hunched over, eyes completely void of their usual light and joy, shirt torn and stretched out jeans not looking any better. Whether you’d been snatched by your father or a sicario was unclear to him – hell what happened was a complete fucking mystery. As your wailing diminished in volume and intensity, he carefully started scanning your face, scolding himself for not just being able to read you.

A black eye had begun to form, bottom lip busted and you had some smaller scratches scattered across the rest of your face. Your nose seemed to be somewhat askew as well, though that might’ve just been the lighting or even his paranoia. It was hard for him to be calm, anger and frustration fighting his self-discipline for the upper hand. But he wouldn’t allow it, you needed him to be there, you needed your Javi, not the vengeful, bloodthirsty agent. So he closed his eyes, pressing a tender kiss to the crown of your head as he counted to ten, taking a set of essential, deep breaths.

When the sobbing died down to sniffles and silent tears he slowly started to move, standing up with you in his arms. You were limp in his arms even though you were fully conscious and aware of your surroundings. He laid you down in the bed, slowly unlacing your tennis shoes as you looked up at the ceiling. You were usually very talkative so your lack of babbling was incredibly unsettling to Javier.

“I’m gonna take these clothes off, okay?”, he softly announced, searching you for any sign of protest.

He slowly got you out of your ripped jeans, shirt and underwear, only leaving the room to throw them into your laundry bin. While he was in the bathroom he wet a washcloth and grabbed a towel to help you wash up. As he sat back down next to you, he put a hand on your knee, to let you know that he was right there with you.

“Stop me if it hurts too much”, he whispered as he started dragging the cloth over your face.

You were still looking up at the ceiling, hands fisted in the sheets. Painfully aware of every sore spot as Javier carefully cleansed your skin. A hand found its way to your abdomen, slowly resting on the warm skin there, preventing him from touching you there.

He understood the message and left it alone, finishing up on your legs before chasing the wet skin with the soft towel. The chances of you speaking up about it tonight were low to non-existent, even he could figure that out for himself. So he decided to just help you into a fresh pair of underwear and a t-shirt, sliding the covers over your still form when he finished.

“I’ll be right with you baby, I’m just gonna give Murphy a call”, he promised, sat on his knees beside the bed. “If you need anything, just shout.”

When he left the bedroom he felt like screaming. He was fucking angry, enraged, livid. Who in their right mind would hurt his girl.. he wanted – needed answers. That’s when he dialled his best mate’s number, no matter the hour, he needed to figure this shit out, right this instant.

A groan was heard from the other side of the line, followed by some shuffling. “Murphy.”

“She’s in bed, battered and bruised”, Javi stated, voice completely monotone.

“Shit – do you need me to come over?”, Steve replied, sounding more awake already.

Javier rested a hand against his forehead. “I need some of my stuff, I’m staying with her but I don’t want to leave her alone.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course, I got that spare key around here somewhere. Fucking hell Peña… did she say anything?”

He sighed into the horn, feeling completely drained of any energy. “Not a single word, she was hysteric.”

“And the baby?”, he asked, tone changing.

“I-I don’t know.. didn’t really see any bruising but I don’t know.”

There was some more shuffling on the other end, the sound of metal hitting the floor. “I’ll be there in thirty.”

Hanging the phone back on the wall, he leaned over to glance into the room. You were still there, facing the door, eyes closed. He came back into the room, trying his best not to make any noise. As he got closer he could tell you were asleep, hands clutching onto the pillow next to yours, the one he slept on. He heaved another sigh, not entirely sure what to do now. He didn’t want to lay down next to you, reeking of sweat and knowing Murphy would be here soon. So he headed back into the other room, making his way over to the kitchen. Fuck he wanted a smoke, you probably had a pack around here somewhere. He started a frantic search, the urge to soothe the tension and panic growing stronger every passing moment. And there it was, a half empty pack of neatly rolled cigarettes, stowed away behind an empty cookie jar. He pulled the lighter from his back pocket, hands shaking with anticipation. The first drag felt like pure elation, so much so that he moaned at the sensation, his free hand tangling in his matted hair.

“Fuck baby, you’re breaking my heart”, he muttered with his eyes closed, bud pursed in-between his lips.

As soon as the smoke started curling towards the bedroom he stepped away from it, opening the windows in the living room. He smoked two more cigarettes and got your bag up off the floor before Steve arrived. The familiar knock making Javier jolt out of his slumber-like state. He opened the door, an overnight bag immediately pushed into his hands.

“She in there?”, Steve asked, already making too much noise for his liking.

“Yeah”, he put the duffel bag on the couch, “but keep it down.”

Steve rubbed a hand over his moustache, glancing into the room from where he stood. “Hysteric you said?”

“She was fucking weeping man”, he spat, lighting a fourth cigarette.

“Her dad?”, his friend asked, helping himself to a cig as well.

Javier let his head drop as he took a deep breath. “I don’t know, she’s been dead silent. Has he done this before? Is there a case against him in the States?”

“Not that I know of.. her mother just sorta made her promise never to get authorities involved, saying he’s still her dad and shit.”

“Bull fucking shit, a father doesn’t throw hands like that. You should’ve seen the state of her, jeans ripped to shreds, lip fucking busted open.. fucking repulsive.”

Steve put a hand on his shoulder, quirking an eyebrow towards the bedroom. “Watch the voice Javi, let’s just go outside.”

He shook his head, extinguishing the cigarette in the sink. “I wanna be here if she wakes up.”

“I understand, let’s just sit down, you need to settle down”, the blonde offered. “Let’s just have a beer and talk things through, yeah?”

The two men sat on the couch and shared a couple of drinks, talking everything over. When you were ready to talk they’d listen to you and if you’d be willing to file a case, then they’d fucking handle it for you. Steve had brought up the baby again, suggesting Javier take you to a hospital and get your injuries noted down. Javier had confided in Steve about how scared he’d been, frantic upon hearing you’d left the hotel. He’d listened to him, reassuring him you were a strong and smart woman and that you’d tell him if something was wrong. Furthermore Steve had promised to handle things at the embassy the next day, ensuring your boyfriend could stay with you all day. Javier had gratefully agreed, not wanting to so much as set a foot out of your apartment until you’d tell him you were okay.

“I should head back for the night, Con doesn’t like sleeping alone.”

He followed him to the door, clapping him on the back as he reached for the door handle. “Thanks, Steve, I appreciate it.”

“Just do us all a favour and take a shower, you fucking stink”, Steve teased, shaking his partner’s hand. With that he left the small apartment.

“Pendejo.”

But he was right. The bathroom sink and a hand-towel would have to do for now, the shower way too noisy at this hour. He slipped into a fresh pair of briefs, putting some cologne on before joining you in the bed. Your hand was still on his pillow, so he carefully pried it off, holding it in his as he scooted closer towards you.

When you came to a couple hours later, all you could smell was him, your face nestled in the crook of his neck, a warm palm resting on your neck. By the light pouring in from the windows you could tell it was morning, but you felt completely exhausted still. As your brain slowly woke up as well you felt the way your body started quivering again. The man beneath you groaned lowly, nudging his chin against the top of your head as he changed positions. The more you focused on trying to make the trembling stop the worse it got, to a point where you just started crying out of frustration. Javier was quick to notice, rolling over onto his side, covering your body with his, ready to shield you from any harm. When he noticed what was going on he just laid back down, pulling you on top of him and securing you in a loving, comforting hold.

“S’okay, I gotchu, nothing’s gonna hurt you here”, he murmured into your hair.

The shaking got less and less severe the longer he held you, lips pressed to your forehead. You felt like you could finally breathe again, as if the heaviness within your chest had finally lifted, so that’s what you did. Javier’s ears perked out as he heard the shuddering breath.

“Need some fresh air?”

You looked up at him, eyes meeting his for the first time in ages. It took your breath away, suddenly very aware of your surroundings and what had occurred last night. The words left your lips before you could even comprehend it: “I love you.”

His eyes went wide with shock. “W-what?” It wasn’t that he hadn’t heard you, he just didn’t understand it. Well, he understood the semantic meaning of the phrase but he didn’t understand why you said it.. to him.. like now or at all. “Wait- shit, are you sure?”

It was your turn to just stare at him, not comprehending the situation yourself. “Huh?”

“I’m gonna kiss you, yeah?”

You closed your eyes, letting his lips slowly hit the space above your upper lip, strategically avoiding the injured one.

“Did you hit your head or something”, he softly joked, thumb tracing the outline of your cheek.

The tiniest smile formed on your lips, fingers lacing with his. “Thank you for being here.”

“Are you feeling up to eat something?”

You just nodded, not finding the energy to do much more. He got out of the bed, walking over to your side to help you stand. You braced your hands on his chest, forehead resting on his sternum. It wasn’t that you needed the support, you’d be fine walking on your own, you just wanted to be close to him a little longer.

“I-I’m scared”, you blurted out.

“Hmm?”, he questioned, tilting your chin up to look into your eyes.

“The baby- I-I haven’t felt… pregnant.. What if-“

He put a finger over your lips, encouraging you to stop talking. “We’ll go see a doctor after you’ve eaten something, I promise.”

You let out a shaky breath before cupping his jaw, giving him a half smile before walking out of your bedroom. The fact that he was here was beyond your comprehension. This was all you ever wanted and yet you couldn’t find it within yourself to be happy about it, the gnawing feeling of knowing the baby might not be okay eating away at you.

After the two of you had eaten a small breakfast he drove you to the clinic as promised, his hand laced with yours the entire ride. He didn’t ask questions, instead respected your silence and didn’t push on it. His aviators rested on your nose, preventing the early sun from blinding you as you drove through the bustling streets of Bogotá.

“You want me to come with you?”, he asked, eyes squinted at the bright sunrays.

“Uh yeah, if you don’t mind..”, you shyly answered, raising a hand towards the window to provide some shade.

He pulled on the handbrake, turning his head to look at you. “I’ll only be there if you want me there, corazon.”

The hospital was rather calm, aside from some emergency patients being rolled in. Javier had flashed them the good ole’ DEA badge, making you somewhat of a priority patient. He insisted you get some scans and x-rays done first, wanting to make sure none of the bruising and swelling was anything serious. Afterwards the two of you were put into a waiting room together, him with a coffee in his hands and you with your head on his shoulder, resting your eyes just a little while longer.

“Peña”, someone announced. Javi gave a nod, and the two of you followed a man into yet another room. “I hear baby needs a check-up too?”

“Uh yeah, we’re just a little worried”, he told the doctor, a protective hand on the small of your back.

The doctor gestured for you to take a seat in the medical chair, wheeling a cart carrying various equipment closer to it. “Well let’s have a quick look then. You can take a seat next to your wife.”

Javi sat down in the chair next to yours, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze as the doctor lifted your shirt. The gel was absolutely freezing, making you huff out an awkward chuckle. The applicator slid over your skin, the doctor trying to locate your baby as you looked over at Javier, who seemed to be entranced by it all. His brows were furrowed as he closely watched the doctor’s every movement, ready to step in if needed.

“There we go”, you both looked up at the screen, “baby looks good so far.”

“N-no complications?”, you squeaked out.

The doctor smiled at the two of you, flipping a switch on the cart to let the two of you hear a thumping sound. “Heartbeat is perfectly normal as well.”

You covered your eyes, letting out a sob as you listened to the rhythmic pulse. Javier was right there with you, eyes glossy with unshed tears. There was something so strange about it all, the stress and tension of the previous weeks suddenly just disappearing. It was peaceful, a moment nobody could intrude on or steal away. That was his baby right there, on that small screen. This was it, his everything, the woman he loved and the baby he never knew he wanted- needed. The doctor had stepped out, muttering something about giving you some time alone.

“I-I love you”, Javier expressed, bringing your free hand up to his lips and he’d never meant it more.

You dragged him down to you, crashing your sore lips on his. When you broke apart you wiped one of your tears off his face, slowly chuckling to yourself. “Te quiero Javi.”

After your ultrasound finished up you got your results and when you were told there was nothing to worry about, the two of you set out on your way back to your apartment. Along the way you’d discussed filing for a restraining order and Javier had swerved the car back around, heading straight for the embassy.

“I-I don’t know if I should go inside”, you protested, suddenly feeling very nervous and self-aware.

“You’ll be fine, amor, it’s lunchtime anyway”, he assured you, pulling the keys from the engine.

You trailed behind him, clutching onto his hand as you walked into the building, looking down at the floor to avoid any and all stares. He swiftly pulled you into your shared office, where Steve sat in his chair, feet propped onto his desk. He promptly extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray on his desk, standing up to walk over to the two of you.

“I’m gonna start a case”, you announced, engulfing your friend in a lingering hug.

He patted your back, closing his eyes as he squeezed you a bit tighter. “I’m so proud of you, girly. We’ll get through this.”

The guys helped you set up your defence, Javi eventually taking one of the polaroid cameras to capture the evidence. He had you strip down to your undergarments, fixing the lighting to make sure the bruises and scratches were plenty visible. When he’d gathered images of your body be eventually got started on photographing your face, tilting your chin and adjusting his angles every so often. Steve had walked in, when you were once again fully dressed, staring into the lens.

“I take it baby’s good then?”, he asked, examining some of the developed polaroids.

“Yeah, don’t need to go back for another four weeks”, you’d replied, not wanting to overshare in the moment.

“This a maternity shoot or what?”, he joked, noticing the effort his colleague was putting in.

Javier put the camera down, ignoring Steve’s joke as he neatly stowed the images away in a brown envelope. “Let’s get some statements and then we can send this shit in.”

“Are you sure you want to be here for this?”, Steve asked so only him and Javi could hear.

“I need to know what that scumbag did to her.”

The blonde sighed, shaking his head: “This is about her, yeah? So keep your cool.”

He hit his partner on the head with the envelope. “I’ll go get the tape-recorder.”

You told the story just as it happened, sparing them no details. The urge to just get up and leave was there, but you wanted this all to done and dealt with. So you bit your tongue, answering Murphy’s questions one by one, taking five minute breaks after the really tough ones. By the end of it you were just about ready to get the fuck out of there.

“You got a good lawyer back home, in case he takes it to court?”

You looked up at Steve, lips pursed into a thin line as you impatiently tapped your fingertips against the table. “I’ve got some ideas, yeah. But if we’re done I’d really like to go home, I’m fucking bushed.”

He got up off his chair, stowing your signature and tape into the envelope containing the pictures. “’Course, you coming in on Monday then or?”

“Well I technically still have another week off, but I’ll see, I’ll give Con a call.”

“C’mon let’s go”, Javier intercepted, a hand on your upper back.

Once out of earshot you leaned into his side, whispering: “What was that about?”

“I want you all to myself tonight, amor, tonight is all about you.”

Taglist: @pedritomando @peterhollandkait @ophelia-ingenue @radiowallet @phoenixhalliwell @diogodxlot @rosiefridayrogersunday @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #narcos #javier pena #pedro pascal #imagine #illicit limerence

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dirtykpopsnaps · 4 years ago

Text

My Soulmate, the Composer - Min Yoongi (soulmate au)

Warnings: None

Contains: Cute soulmates!Yoongi and Y/N meeting

Requested: no.

Words: 6, 894

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Sighing softly to myself, I sit down at one of the tables within our break room and set my lunch down in front of me. My eyes are drooping slightly from exhaustion, so I simply stand up and start another pot of coffee. While the coffee brews, I sit down again and start unpacking my lunch. It’s nothing crazy, just a sandwich, a bag or chips, an apple, and a water bottle. I rub at my eyes, trying desperately to wake myself up a little before I need start doing checkups on more animals.

As I start eating my sandwich, the break room door opens again and my co-worker, Quinn, steps inside. She sits down at the table with me and chuckles at my tiredness. “Did you stay up late again?” She asks. I narrow my eyes at her in annoyance.

“No, I didn’t. He was playing music in his head all last night,” I groan, rubbing at my temples. For now, the music in my head is silent, but I know that it’ll start back up soon enough. Usually, when there isn’t music playing in my head, he’s asleep. Quinn gives me a sympathetic look, sucking some air in through her teeth.

“Oh, yikes,” she hisses. I nod my head sleepily.

“I just can’t wait to meet this guy so the music can finally stop and maybe I’ll get some peace and quiet sometimes,” I sigh.

You see, my soulmate attachment is a little different than some. Most people have a distinguishable trait that they can compare with their soulmate’s. My soulmate and I, however, are connected through our heads. I can’t hear him talking or what he thinks about normally, but any music that plays...it plays in my head, too. I’m fairly sure it also works the other way around. Although the attachment is a little different, it has helped me realize that my soulmate...probably isn’t English. When I was younger, sometimes the music would be in English. My soulmate liked a lot of rap music, so I heard a lot of that. As I got older, however, a lot of the music wasn’t in English. I couldn’t quite detect the language, but it definitely wasn’t English.

Calmly, I continue eating my lunch. Every once in a while, Quinn will pull me back into the conversation, but we stay quiet for the most part. I finish my food and take the last few sips of coffee before I say ‘goodbye’ to Quinn and walk back into the exam room. The exam room is a big, white room. There are instruments scattered all around and a table in the middle of the room. Posters of the anatomy of different animals like the walls. There’s also a few posters advising pet parents about conditions and symptoms. I’ve never really liked working in a big white room, always thought it needed some color, but I’ve gotten used to it.

For the rest of the day, I continue my checkups with the patients that come and go. I end up seeing a few cats and dogs, a rabbit, and even a chinchilla. Thankfully, none of the news today is particularly horrible, so my day doesn’t take a complete nosedive by the time I’m done. The last animal I see is a cute little Golden Retriever puppy named Lucy. The whole time while I’m examining her, she keeps trying to play with me and nip at my hands. I laugh lightly and take the notes that I need to before handing her back to her owner. “Well, she looks to be in good health to me. You’re taking very good care of her and she seems happy. So, I say keep up the good work,” I smile, setting my clipboard down on the table. Her owner smiles kindly and links Lucy’s leash back to her collar before leaving.

Once they’re out of the room, I sigh in relief and grab all my supplies before heading back to my office. I place everything where it should go and check to make sure that I have everything before grabbing my jacket and bag. My car is parked out back, so I climb into it easily and make my way back to my house. The traffic on the way back is horrible, but it’s not any different than normal, so I just sigh deeply and deal. The time slowly creeps by until, finally, the blockage clears up a little bit and I’m able to continue my ride home.

When I finally get home, I park in the driveway and grab my things before heading inside. The front door is already open, so I know that my younger sister, Rylie, is already home. I hang my keys on the hook by the door and hang up my bag right next to it. “I’m home, Ryles! You better have your schoolwork done!” I shout up the stairs, walking into the kitchen to try and find something small to chomp on before thinking about dinner. I search through the cabinets for a second and pull out a cheese stick, taking chunks out of it. From the stairs, I hear pounding footsteps as Rylie comes running downstairs. She appears at the bottom of the stairs and looks around quickly before spotting me and running into the kitchen.

“Y/N!” She says excitedly, skidding to a halt before me. I narrow my eyes at her, trying to read what she’s so excited about.

For a few seconds, she just bounces on the balls of her feet, then she almost explodes with excitement. “I got the tickets!” She says excitedly, squealing and dancing around in a circle. I giggle lightly, watching as she lets out her excitement. “I never thought I’d actually get them, but I did!! Now, they’re not *amazing* seats, but it’s what I could get. Will you *pleeeease* go with me?” She asks, putting on her biggest puppy dog eyes and displaying her hands in a pleading gesture.

“Go with you....where?” I ask in confusion. Rylie groans, rolling her eyes.

“To the concert!” She exclaims, waving two pieces of paper in my face. Looking at the papers, I can just see the outline of tickets on them and I nod my head lightly.

“Sure thing. What’s the concert for?” I ask. Instantly, Rylie’s face lights up again and she starts talking a mile a minute.

“It’s for that group I really like, remember? The k-pop one? They’re called BTS, but they’re really good and I think you’ll really like them and I really wanna show them to you!” She says quickly. All of this comes out in one breath and I stare at her in shock.

“Jeez, girl, breathe!” I laugh. Rylie joins in with my laughter and finally takes some deep breathes.

“Sorry. Just...really excited,” she giggles.

I walk into the living room and Rylie trails behind me, sitting down at my feet when I plop down on the couch. “So, have you ever heard any of their music?” She asks, referring to the group she had just mentioned. I think back to what she had called them, (BTS??), and shake my head lightly. “No, I don’t think I have, Ryles. Do you wanna play something for me?” I suggest. She gasps loudly and launches off the floor, running back upstairs to grab her phone, I guess. Only seconds later, she comes running back downstairs and plops herself at my feet again.

“What do you wanna hear?” She asks excitedly, scrolling through her phone. I shrug my shoulders lightly.

“Just play something that you think I’ll like,” I say calmly.

For a minute or two, Rylie scrolls through her phone until she finally stops. “Ohh, this is a good one,” she squeals excitedly. She turns the volume all the way up on my phone and clicks on a video. The video starts with the sound of little bubbles, but I decide to just focus on the music instead. The music finally starts playing and I nod my head lightly, listening to it.

“It’s a pretty good song, sweetie. What’s it called?” I ask.

“It’s called Waste It on Me. Technically, it’s not BTS’s song, but it’s them singing and they worked with this guy named Steve Aoki. It’s his song,” she explains, using her hands to talk.

For a while, Rylie and I just sit in the living room listening to music and talking. She tells me all about this group, getting more and more excited as I ask more questions. When I say that the music she’s shown me is pretty good, she jumps up again and starts dancing in a circle. “Yes! Now I can listen to it and you won’t complain,” she says happily, still dancing around. I laugh at her, shaking my head lightly. My sister is adorable, but also...she’s a bit crazy. Rylie keeps showing me more of their music, wanting to give me a good idea of what I should expect from the concert.

To be honest, I really do like their music. The music has a pretty good hook to it and, although I can’t understand the lyrics, it still catches my attention. However, there’s something about the music that keeps nagging at me. I can’t quite figure out why, but it sounds familiar. Almost like I’ve heard it before, but I know I haven’t because I’ve never even heard of this group. No matter what I do, though, there’s just something about the music that keeps nagging at me. Finally, I just shake my head and decide to enjoy the music rather than try and figure out why it sounds familiar.

Suddenly, Rylie speaks up again. “Oh, Y/N, by the way, can we head to the music store tomorrow? I need some more picks and I wanna try and find some books of music,” she explains. I nod my head lightly and pull my legs up on the couch.

“I think we can do that. Tomorrow is Saturday, so I should have some time to be able to take you out,” I say. Rylie smiles widely and pulls me into a big hug.

“You’re the best sister ever,” she giggles. I laugh lightly, ruffling her hair.

“And don’t you forget it,” I laugh.

Rylie plays a few more songs for me before I get up and start thinking about dinner. I look through the cabinets for something to make, but don’t find anything that could remotely make a decent dinner. “Hey, Ry, how does pizza sound?” I ask, looking over my shoulder and back into the living room.

“Sounds good to me. I could never turn down pizza,” she responds. I can still hear the music playing from the living room, so I ask her to turn it off while I call the pizza place on Main Street. The music stops a few seconds later and I pick up my cell off the counter.

The call to the pizza place is fairly short. I just order a medium cheese pizza and some bread sticks. They tell me that I should expect the order in about half an hour and I thank them before hanging up again. As soon as the call ends, the music starts back up again and I laugh at Rylie. It’s obvious that she really likes this group, though, so I just let her enjoy the music. Every time I look into the living room, she’s dancing around and mouthing the lyrics to whatever song is playing. I chuckle lightly, walking upstairs and deciding to take a quick shower. At the top of the stairs, I decide to call down to her. “Hey, Ry! If the pizza shows up early, my wallet is on the counter!” I tell her. I get a small ‘okay’ in response and just continue on the way to the bathroom.

Before heading inside, I grab my towels off the rack and pull them into the bathroom with me. I quickly strip off all my clothes before stepping into the shower and turning on the hot water. The water feels nice on my skin and I hum lightly as I shower. One of BTS’s song is playing through my head, so I just hum it lightly. For a bit, I can only hear the music in my head since I don’t know the whole song. However, about halfway through my shower, the song begins playing again from the beginning. This time, the lyrics are there, but they sound a little hesitant, almost as if the person singing them doesn’t fully know if this is the right song. At that moment, it hits me why the songs sounded familiar. Those are some of the songs that my soulmate has played in their head! I laugh lightly, happy to have finally put it together. ‘Well,’ I think, ‘at least they’ll have something in common with Rylie.’

Quickly, I finish up my shower and towel myself off before pulling on a large t-shirt and some fluffy pajama pants. When I head downstairs, the smell of hot pizza wafts up the stairs to me. Rylie is sitting at the kitchen island, chomping away at a piece. “It came while you were in the shower,” she says softly, gesturing towards the two boxes. I nod my head and thank her before grabbing a plate and putting a couple pieces on the plate. Rylie and I eat silently through dinner, talking every once in a while. I ask her how school’s going and she says it’s alright. “The classes aren’t too bad and I’m not failing any, so I think that’s alright,” she shrugs.

“Not failing any classes is more than alright, that’s great, Ry,” I tell her. She giggles lightly at me, but continues eating her pizza.

For the rest of the night, Rylie and I hang out together. After dinner, I put the left overs in the fridge and then we settle down with some blankets for a movie. Rylie falls asleep about halfway through, but I make it through the whole movie without much problem. When the movie finally ends, I shake her shoulder and tell her to go sleep upstairs. She nods her head sleepily and trudges up to her room. I follow soon after, going into my own room and brushing my teeth before climbing into bed. Soon enough, I’m fast asleep.

————————

When I wake up again, sunlight is creeping across the floor of my room from the window. Little chinks of shadow are displayed where the blinds are on the window. Sighing softly, I climb out of bed and head downstairs. I might as well start on breakfast a little early so that Rylie and I can eat together when she finally gets up.

In the kitchen, I search through the cabinets again. Finally, I just decide to make some scrambled eggs and toast. I get out the toaster and start toasting some bread before I grab a few eggs out of the fridge and crack them into a pan. The eggs sizzle softly as they hit the hot pan and I use a spatula to move them around as they cook. When the first bit of toast comes out, I set it on a plate and put in more toast. I let the eggs cook for a second and look around in the fridge for the butter. When I finally find it, I take it out and set it by the toast.

Just as I’m finishing the eggs, I hear soft footsteps coming downstairs. Rylie enters the kitchen and yawns widely, covering her mouth with her hand. “Good morning,” she says, smiling groggily.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” I chuckle, tipping some of the eggs onto a plate and putting them with the toast. Then, I hand Rylie the plate. She gets some utensils out of the drawer and hands me a fork to use for my own food. I tip the last bit of eggs into my own plate and add the toast. Before I eat, I set the plate aside and turn off the stove, putting the hot pan in the sink and filling it with water to cool it down.

Breakfast is another quiet meal. We’re both a little too tired to hold up conversation just yet, so I allow my mind to think about what I need to get done today. Christmas is coming up, so I decide to go to the mall to look for some gifts after a few chores around the house. After shopping for a little, I’ll take Rylie to the music store like I said I would. I figure that the shopping will take most of the day, so I’ll think about things like dinner later on. When I think about food, I look towards the cabinet and scrunch up my nose. Add grocery shopping to the list for either today or tomorrow.

Suddenly, music fills my head again. As usual, the music doesn’t have lyrics. It’s solely the base of a song. It plays over and over in my head, notes being added every time it repeats. Sometimes subtle things change, like the rhythm or note value, but there’s always little changes. Over time, I’ve gotten used to this kind of music in my head. I get to hear as parts are slowly added to the song and, finally, I hear the final product. I’ve come to think that it means my soulmate must do something with music. I’m not quite sure what he does, but it’s obvious that he at least somewhat composes. I think that’s what I’m hearing as the song slowly comes together over time.

Across the table, Rylie waves her hand in my face. Blinking rapidly, I look at her and focus. “I’m sorry, what?” I ask. Rylie chuckles lightly.

“I asked what you were humming. You were humming something and swaying back and forth,” she tells me.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize, Ry. My soulmate must be composing again,” I respond. She makes a silent ‘ah’ and nods head head.

“That must be cool, hearing as your soulmate puts stuff together,” she says, running her thumb over the ticking timer on her wrist. I nod my head lightly, looking up at her again.

“It can be interesting. The music is really good, so it’s very interesting getting to hear as it slowly comes together. Though, it can get annoying when I have a headache,” I laugh. Rylie winces in sympathy.

“Oh, I can only imagine,” she hisses.

When both of us finish, we put our plates in the sink. “Okay, Ry, can you go change your bedsheets? I’ll come by and get them in a moment,” I tell her. She groans in annoyance, but sighs and nods her head. I wash off the plates and put them in the dishwasher, making sure to get everything off. When I’m done, I head up to my room and start taking off my bedsheets, as well. The dirty bedsheets are placed in a basket and, once I take off my sheets, I walk into Rylie’s room and gather her’s. Then, I take the basket downstairs and start a load of laundry.

I set the basket on the floor and throw the sheets into the washer, putting in the right amount of detergent. When the sheets start spinning in the washer, I place the basket in front of the washer and head back upstairs. I pull new sheets out of the linen closet in the hallway and make my bed. When I’m done, I check into Rylie’s room to make sure that she’s done the same. Thankfully, my sister is pretty good, so I don’t have to ask her to do everything.

For a while, I walk around the house doing small chores. The house is mostly clean, but I’m able to gather up some more clothes for another load of laundry once the bedsheets are done. After that, we just wait for the loads of laundry to finish. When they’re done, the laundry is put in different baskets and I place them in my room for later. I poke my head into Rylie’s room afterward. “Okay, Ry, get dressed. We’re gonna do some Christmas shopping at the mall and then we’ll head to the music store,” I tell her. She shoots me a soft smile and immediately starts looking through her dresser for clothes to change into.

Heading into my room, I go to the closet and start looking for clothes. The weather is very cold, so I decide to go with a plain t-shirt, an oversized fuzzy cardigan, some plain blue jeans, and cute black boots. I throw everything on, then grab my wallet and phone off the top of the dresser. When I head downstairs, Rylie is already downstairs, sitting on the couch and waiting for me. When she hears me, she hops up and grabs both of our coats out of the closet. I grab my car keys off the hook by the door.

On the drive over to the mall, Rylie tells me all about what she’s been thinking of buying her friends for Christmas. “We’re all going to get gifts and then exchange them on the last day of school before break,” she tells me, her eyes flirting over the stores that pass outside.

“I still need to think about what to you, aunt Maddie, and Uncle Tanner,” I say. To be honest, I already have a few gifts for Rylie, but nothing major. Nothing that’ll make her very excited, I don’t think. I’m hoping to find something here, or maybe at the music store.

When we get to the mall, Rylie immediately drags me towards the Bath & Bodyworks. “Come oooon,” she whines, pulling at my hand. I laugh lightly and follow her into the store, instantly being assaulted by the mix of smells from all the perfumes and lotions. Rylie starts looking through the scents, smelling one every once in a while. I’m sure that she’s probably looking for something that her friends will like. I find some of the winter scents and decide to get Rylie the peppermint bark scented lotion. Rylie absolutely adores peppermint bark, so I hope that she’ll like this just as much.

We spend maybe another 15 minutes in the Bath & Bodyworks, then we start looking into other stores. We find a couple of the clothing stores and look in there for a little before moving on. We walk into the toy store and get a stuffed animal for our little cousin who we’ll see on Christmas. Rylie also picks out her new yearly calendar from the toy store. After the toy store, we look around some more and find a few stores here and there to go into. However, I’m not able to find anything for my aunt or uncle. I sigh softly and tell myself that I’ll just need to search online when I get home.

Shaking my head at the amount of presents I was able to get, I get Rylie’s attention again. “Okay, I’m done here, Ry. Let’s go to the music store,” I say. Her face lights up and she squeals excitedly.

“Yay!” She squeals, hurrying off on the direction of the store. I roll my eyes, but laugh and hurry after her. The music store is located just at the edge of the mall. It’s one of the biggest stores in the mall and does pretty well, honestly. There’s all sorts of instruments inside, as well as things like guitar picks, shoulder straps, and music books.

As soon as Rylie opens the door, she hurries over to the guitar picks and starts looking at the different assortments that they’re selling. I don’t have much to do here, so I look around at the other customers inside the store. There aren’t many other people here, only a few. One young man is looking at the selections of ukuleles hung upon the wall. Another young man is looking at the drum kits stacked off in the corner. A third young man is sitting on the bench of the grand piano. It’s obvious that he’s playing something, but I don’t recognize the song. Although I can’t hear him, I can see his lips moving and figure that he’s probably mumbling the lyrics too himself.

Sighing softly, I pay closer attention to what he’s playing and then my heart starts beating quickly. I realize that, not only am I hearing the song in the store, but that same song...is also playing in my head! Slowly, I walk over to piano and look down at the man playing the piano. He’s slender with large, beautiful eyes. At the moment, he’s not paying attention to me and I don’t even think he’s realized I’m there. “Uh, hi,” I say softly, waving at him. In surprise, he looks up at me and jumps, resulting in a lovely smash of keys as his hand lands on the piano again. I wince as the magnified keyboard smash sounds in my head. “Ow,” I mutter softly, rubbing at my temples. The man immediately starts apologizing.

“I’m so sorry, you just surprised me,” he apologized, picking his hands up off the piano and starting to leave.

“No, no, please don’t go, that was really pretty,” I say, trying desperately to keep him here.

For several seconds, I scramble around for what to say. Just outright saying ‘hey, you’re my soulmate!’ seems way too straightforward and scary. Yet, I have no *idea* how else to say it! While I scramble around, the man just stares at me with a look that almost screams ‘well, get on with it!’. I swallow thickly, my hands shaking horribly as I try and fail to come up with anything else. “Oh, goddamn it...ugh! I think you’re my soulmate!” I spit out, hiding my face in my hands immediately afterward. That could not have gone much worse.

As soon as the words come out, the man’s expression changes to one of skepticism. He raises an eyebrow at me like I just told him that my best friend is Bigfoot. I swallow again, trying to think of anything that could possibly show that I just met my soulmate. “I-I know it sounds crazy, believe me, I know. But, I heard your playing and I also...I...I heard it...in my...head...” I say, trailing off awkwardly. He gives me an even more skeptical look and my face burns bright red. I sift through my thoughts, trying to come up with anything that might show him what I mean. “I just...I have a thought attachment with my soulmate. I-I guess he’s a musician, but I hear his music in my head all the time. He was...he was just making something this morning! There weren’t any lyrics or anything, but he was composing,” I tell him. He stares at me with a completely deadpan look.

“I’m always composing,” he says plainly, obviously not believing me at all.

Groaning in frustration, I gesture to the piano again. “Please, sit down with me. Give me a second and I think I might be able to try and figure out what he was composing this morning,” I say, my hands still shaking horribly. The man sighs in an almost defeated kind of way and he sits down on the piano bench again.

“Alright. Show me what your soulmate was composing this morning,” he says, gesturing to the keys. Taking a deep breath, I think back to breakfast and try to pull forward the song that I heard. The melody of the song comes after a few moments and I slowly start to reach my hand towards the keyboard, but he stops my hand. I look over at him in surprise and see his jaw hanging open as he looks at the keys and then me again. “Wait...was that you? That...That melody. This melody.” He leans forward and starts playing the same melody on the piano, then stops and looks at me again. I nod my head frantically, my heart pounding in my chest again. I did it. I did something to show. He’s...He’s my soulmate!

Next to me, the man pulls his fingers through his hair. “I just came up with that this morning. Wait, you hear my composing?” He asks, looking at me again. I nod my head slowly at him.

“Yeah. I...I think it has to do with how you hear the music in your head so, uh, I hear it, too,” I laugh nervously. He thinks for a few seconds then his eyes go wide.

“You hear...all of my composing?”

“Every bit of it, start to finish,” I say, smiling widely at him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he says, finally letting out some laughter and smiling. I laugh with him, hiding my face in my hands.

“Yeah, you’ve got some weird hours, but it’s okay, I guess?” I laugh, tilting my head.

Suddenly, I hear Rylie calling my name and, when I turn, I can see her walking over. “Hey, Y/N! These picks are really cute, can we—,” she starts, then looks up and her jaw drops. For a few seconds, I think she’s just shocked that I’m talking to a guy, but then she lets out a loud scream. Her hands fly to her face and I stare at her in shock.

“Rylie!” I chide, starting to scold her, but she shakes her head.

“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry. I just...I’m...I can’t...I’m...you’re Suga!” She says, her voice and hands shaking almost as badly as mine. Her eyes are fixed on my soulmate and she looks like she’s about to burst into tears. Immediately, he breaks into a wide smile and chuckles.

“Um, yeah...interesting introduction. Nice to meet you,” he laughs.

For a few seconds, I look between the two of them. Again, that name sounds familiar. Why does that name sound familiar? Then, everything from last night comes rushing back to me. My jaw hits the ground as everything processes. “Wait a second...my soulmate...is a member of BTS?” I ask in confusion. Suga flashes me a gummy smile and shrugs his shoulders lightly.

“Yeah, I am. But, wow, okay...didn’t expect this to happen today,” he laughs again. Rylie has tears already stream down her face and she wiping frantically at them.

“Wait...your soulmate?!” She asks in shock, her eyes going wide and she stops wiping the tears. “Your soulmate is Suga. Oh, my God, your *soulmate* is *Suga*!” She exclaims loudly.

“Yes, Rylie, we’ve realized that,” I say, shaking my head at her.

Out of nowhere, the two other men in the store come running over. “Hey, hey! Don’t crowd him,” one of them says, trying to push us away.

“No, no, Jungkook, stop! She’s my soulmate!” Suga exclaims, grabbing my hand to stop me from being pushed away. Immediately, he stops trying to push Rylie and I away.

“Oh..oh! Oh, okay,” he says, standing back with the other man. Rylie’s head whips in their direction and she claps her hand over her mouth again, stifling the scream that erupts out seconds later. Suga laughs loudly, throwing his head back at Rylie’s reaction.

For a while, everything within that music store is chaos. Rylie can’t make a sensible sentence to save her life, my heart is still pounding in my chest, and we’re all trying to figure out what’s going on. There’s lots of conversations and explanations while we figure things out and, by the end of it, everything seems to be clear. Rylie has finally calmed down enough that she’s not completely hyperventilating and I’m not worried that I might need to take my baby sister to the hospital. Through everything that’s happening, Suga doesn’t let go of my hand. He’s holding my hand tightly in his and talking to the other two members of BTS (he introduces them to me as Jungkook and Jin).

Once everything’s figured out, Jungkook and Jin have decided to head back to find the rest of the group. Looking over at Suga and then Rylie, I try to break the slight tension. “So, uh...how about some lunch?” I ask, smiling nervously. Suga chuckles lightly and nods his head.

“That sounds good to me,” he comments.

“I, um...I could go for some lunch,” Rylie stutters, her voice still shaking slightly. I look over at Suga again.

“So, it’s...Suga?” I ask, a little confused at the interesting name. He laughs, shaking his head.

“No, no, Suga is my stage name. Call me Yoongi,” he says. I nod my head once in affirmation.

“Okay...Yoongi...gotta remind myself of that,” I laugh lightly.

Slowly, we make our way out of the music store. Before we leave, I stop and pay for Rylie’s guitar picks, but she seems too interested in my soulmate to even be thinking about the guitar picks anymore. Walking back into the mall, we start walking towards the food court. “Ooh, can we go to that good pizza place?” Rylie requests. I turn to Yoongi, squeezing his hand lightly.

“Is that alright?” I ask, tilting my head. He nods lightly, looking into my eyes.

“Yeah, sure! I’ve never been here before so, I’m trusting you guys to take me to the best place,” he jokes. Rylie smiles happily and nods her head.

“It’s absolutely the best food they have here. It’s the best pizza around,” she comments.

“Alright, pizza it is,” Yoongi chuckles.

Quickly, we make our way to the pizza place in the food court and find a booth to sit in. Once we have our table, we walk up to order. I start to talk out my wallet when the cashier tells us the total, but Yoongi shakes his head. “Let me buy,” he says plainly, pulling out his wallet and some money. When we’ve paid, we sit down in the booth together. Conversation flows pretty easily, especially with Rylie asking every question under the sun. I have honestly never heard her talk this much and I’m completely amazed.

“Rylie Jane, don’t hound him,” I laugh, hitting her lightly on the hand. She pouts at me in protest, but Yoongi waves off my statement completely.

“No, let her ask questions. I wanna get to know you guys, too,” he smiles, showing off that adorable gummy smile again.

Our conversation over lunch springs *all* over the place. We talk about the sorts of things we like and what we do. “Well, obviously, you know I’m a musician. So, what do you do?” Yoongi asks, taking a bite of his pizza.

“I’m a veterinarian at the local pet clinic,” I say, taking a sip from my bottle of water. He nods his head lightly in interest.

“You must love animals, huh?” He says. I nod my head quickly.

“Oh, absolutely. Animals are the absolute best,” I smile. He flashes back another sweet smile.

“I can’t wait to show you my dog, Holly. He’s the best,” he says happily.

Just at the mention of his dog, Rylie squeaks and covers her mouth quickly. Yoongi laughs lightly, gesturing toward my sister enthusiastically. “That should tell you all you need to know about my dog,” he laughs. I giggle lightly and watch as Rylie’s face turns a bright, cherry red. She hides her face in her hands, but her body is shaking with stifled laughter.

“Well, could I see a picture of this dog? I’m a vet. I can say for myself if this dog is adorable,” I giggle. Yoongi immediately whips out his phone and starts watching through it, obviously looking for the picture I requested.

After a few moments, he turns the phone towards me. “This was taken a couple days ago. Since I’m away a lot, Holly lives with my brother. Lots of pictures are sent,” he chuckles lightly. I take his phone and look at the picture of the little, brown toy poodle with the orange squeaky bone in it’s mouth. My heart immediately melts and I look back up at him, pouting slightly. “I cannot wait to meet this baby,” I say. He laughs again and takes his phone back, nodding.

“Told you, he’s adorable!” He says happily.

“He is very, very cute. Right up there with Yeontan,” Rylie joins. I give her a confused look, but Yoongi brushes off the comment lazily.

“Holly is much more adorable than Yeontan,” he says plainly, taking another bite of his pizza.

“Unless proof is given, I cannot accept that,” Rylie jokes, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You’ve seen pictures of Holly. You’ve seen how cute he is. Yeontan doesn’t compare,” Yoongi shrugs. I look back and forth between them in confusion.

“Okay, sorry, who’s Yeontan?” I ask, looking between them again. Yoongi smiles softly.

“He’s my group mate, Tae’s, Pomeranian,” Yoongi explains lightly. I bite my lip and share a look with Rylie.

“I dunno,” I joke, “Poms and toy poodles are pretty close on the cuteness scale.” Yoongi groans, rolling his eyes.

“Ugh, not you, too!” He complains. I giggle lightly, smiling at the two of them. He rolls his eyes, but flashes me another smile, as well.

The questions over lunch range from questions like what made us choose our career to things as simple as ‘what’s your favorite color?’. Rylie adds in little questions here and there, but she seems to be running out of questions. As their fan, I expect that she knows most of the answers to these questions already. I, on the other hand, am learning so much about my soulmate. I want to know everything about him and he seems to think the same. At one point, he even asks me who is the cutest pet that I see at my work. I gasp loudly, staring at him with wide eyes. “There’s no way that I can even answer that question. I...I can’t. They’re all so cute and I just can’t choose. I refuse to answer that,” I say, holding my hands up in defense. Yoongi laughs lightly, throwing his head back.

“Fair answer. That question was a little hard,” he laughs.

Before I know it, we’ve all finished our food. We stand up and throw out the leftover trash. Without even hesitating, Yoongi takes my hand in his and intertwined our fingers. I smile happily at him, but Rylie just shakes her head. “They call you grumpy, but all I’ve seen today is a big softie,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest again. Yoongi flashes her a sweet smile.

“You caught me. Can’t hide anything from you,” he jokes. The three of us make our way through the mall, walking back towards the music store.

When we get back to the music store, Yoongi squeezes my hand lightly and pouts. “I don’t wanna leave you,” he says, pushing out his bottom lip.

“I don’t wanna leave, either, but...we’ve gotta go at some point,” I sigh. Calmly, I pull my phone out of my back pocket and present it to him. Yoongi seems to know what I’m thinking, because he grabs out his phone, as well, and we exchange numbers. When we’re done, we each other’s phones back and I put my phone back in my pocket. I sigh softly and pull him into a big hug. “Okay, Yoongi, we’ll have to get together as soon as possible, okay?” I ask. He nods his head lightly, hugging me back.

“Oh, absolutely. I already want to introduce you to my group mates,” he smiles.

Pulling back, he looks to Rylie again, too. “And you are welcome to come with her. We always love meeting fans,” he smiles. Rylie beams happily, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“This is even better than the concert!” She squeals happily. Yoongi gives her a surprised look, then looks at me.

“You have tickets to the concert coming up?” He asks. Rylie quickly nods her head.

“Yeah! I was just able to secure the tickets yesterday,” she says. He breaks into a smile again.

“Great! Then I guess I’ll see you in a few days! I can probably pull some strings and get you backstage,” he says calmly.

“That would be great!” I say, sharing an excited glance with Rylie. She looks like she’s about to explode from excitement.

Calmly, I pull Yoongi into one more hug. After we separate, Rylie bounces forward and pulls him into a hug, as well. “Thank you so much for today, Yoongi. It was great,” she thanks him. I give her a scandalized look. It wouldn’t have been great had it just been her and I! Yoongi laughs at my face, but smiles at my sister anyway.

“Well, I’m glad! I had a nice time, too,” he smiles. Saying goodbye one last time, Rylie and I grab our bags off the floor and head out the doors of the mall, going towards our car.

As soon as we’re out of earshot, Rylie turns to me again with a huge smile on her face. “I hope you know how *lucky* you are. You’re soulmate is Min Yoongi!” She exclaims. I giggle lightly and nod my head, adjusting the bags on my arms. I look back toward the mall and I’m just able to see Yoongi waving at us from the glass doors.

“Yeah, I guess I am lucky,” I smile.

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allsassnoclass · 4 years ago

Note

how about “i know we hate each other but it’s christmas eve and your flight was cancelled please come inside” for muke? xx

Here you are my darling I hope you enjoy it!

Ficmas Day 6

Rating: teen and up

Read on AO3

Michael is woken up at ten in the morning by Mariah Carey passionately singing about what she wants for Christmas, accompanied by a voice that Michael has become unfortunately accustomed to within the past four months. He groans and flops over, pulling his pillow over his head and hoping for the thousandth time that his neighbor might suddenly lose his voice, or at least lose the ability to blast music when Michael is still trying to sleep. He’s coming off of the night shift and it’s Christmas Eve. He should be allowed to actually sleep.

The pillow doesn’t help, so he slaps his hand against the wall as loudly as he can. That doesn’t seem to help either, and Luke keeps hitting high notes that would be really impressive if Michael wasn’t currently plotting his murder.

Plotting Luke Hemming’s murder is something that Michael does frequently. He’s never immediately disliked someone so quickly, but Luke is not only a professional at waking him up during what little sleep Michael is trying to get, but he has managed to set off the fire alarm with his cooking failures three times already, he sometimes keeps a bike in the hall that Michael almost always manages to run into no matter where it is, and when he watches TV it’s always bad reality programs at top volume. His mail continuously somehow ends up in Michael’s slot, and he never says “thank you” when Michael gives it to him. He has an endless trail of people tramping in and out of his apartment at all hours, but Calum said he got passive-aggressive about buzzing him up when Michael was still in the shower, despite them having met in the lobby multiple times and Luke knowing that Calum is Michael’s emergency contact.

When Michael ran into him during his move-in and said hi, Luke’s dog had growled at him.

Dogs love Michael.

Despite his cherubic blonde curls and dreamy blue eyes, Luke Hemmings might be the devil. This was only confirmed when he started playing Christmas music and decorating his door the day after Halloween.

Michal isn’t a grinch. He likes Christmas as much as the next person who grew up celebrating it, but he likes when it’s confined to the proper month. There’s something to be said about the feel-good movies and lights twinkling against the snow at night, but he works overnights at a 24 hour grocery store, and at this point Christmas music makes him want to claw his ears off. Luke doesn’t seem to listen to anything else, and he has a wreath and line of jingle bells on his door. Michael doesn’t even want to see what the inside of his apartment looks like.

His one solace is that today Luke is catching a plane to go back to his parents’ house. Their bedrooms share a wall, and Michael has heard him making plans to load up Petunia and spend Christmas at his childhood home. Michael is not so lucky, confined to his apartment for the holiday.

He’s not sure what his plans are yet. He’s trying not to be too sad about it, but it’s difficult when everyone under the sun is getting to spend it with family and he’s going in for a night shift.

The song on the other side of the wall switches to “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.” Michael tries to block out Luke’s self-dueting and viciously stamps down the jealousy bubbling in his gut.

-/-

Luke finally leaves the apartment at 2 pm. Michael hears him cooing to his dog and the jangle of keys as he locks up, and then the apartment is blessedly silent. He lays in bed for an hour scrolling through his phone, but eventually seeing everyone’s messages about the holiday and seeing their families becomes too much and he gets up, making his way to the shower. The apartment is colder than usual, and when he looks out the window he only sees a mass of white, swirling too fast to make out individual flakes. Chicago seems to be living up to its nickname. Maybe it’s a good thing that he doesn’t have to drive far to get to work tomorrow. He bundles up in his coziest sweatshirt and sweatpants and his favorite pair of fuzzy socks, anyway.

Michael is getting something to eat when he hears Luke’s voice again, still talking to his dog. It’s clearly coming from the hallway, and Michael frowns when something thumps, followed by Luke apologizing. He leaves the plate with his half eaten toast on the counter and presses his ear to the door, trying to make the words take distinct shape.

“... know, girl, but we’re almost back,” Luke says. “Then we’ll… I don’t know. We’ll figure something else out, right? Fuck, where are my fucking keys?” Something else hits the floor. Luke sniffs.

“Fuck,” he says, but it’s small and fragile. Michael hasn’t heard Luke sound defeated before now, and he doesn’t think he ever wants to hear it again. To know that someone who typically is annoyingly joyful is unable to keep up that demeanor outside the privacy of his own home makes Michael’s heart break a little.

Maybe that’s why he opens the door. Michael doesn’t know; if he was asked, he’d have to say that he was reaching for the doorknob before his mind caught up with his limbs.

Luke scrambles at the sound, wiping at his eyes. He’s crouched on the floor, mittens in his hand, a large duffle on the floor next to him and a backpack open in front. Petunia’s dog crate is blocking part of the hallway.

“Luke,” Michael says. He doesn't have anything else to say; he didn’t think this far ahead.

“I’ll be quieter,” Luke sniffs. “Sorry. Don’t want to ruin your perfect day.”

“That’s not why I’m out here,” Michael frowns. “It’s just a normal day for me. Did your flight get cancelled?”

“What do you think?” Luke snaps. “It’s a blizzard out there. All flights are grounded until at least tomorrow.”

“Sorry,” Michael says. Luke’s face twists up, and he looks down and takes a breath. He paws through something in his backpack, but it’s packed in pretty tight and he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, hands falling uselessly after a moment.

“I can’t find my keys,” he says, voice small again.

“Oh. Do you… you can come and look for them in my apartment, if you want. Just so you’re not spilling all your stuff in the hallway, you know?”

Luke frowns.

“I guess I could make hot chocolate, too?” Michael offers. “I mean, it must be pretty cold out there, with the snow and wind and everything.”

“You hate me,” Luke says flatly.

“I know. Well, I don’t--” he sighs. Even when he’s trying to do something nice for him, talking to Luke is infuriating. “Look. I know that we don’t like each other, but it’s Christmas Eve and your flight was just cancelled. Do you want hot chocolate or not?”

Luke looks at his backpack, then at the dog crate.

“Can I let Petunia out?”

“Sure, as long as she doesn't growl at me.”

Luke considers for another moment, long enough that Michael has to tamp down the urge to fidget with his sleeves.

“Okay,” he says. Then, after a delay, “Thanks.”

Michael nods once, then retreats back into his apartment and holds the door open.

Luke gathers up his backpack and drags the dog crate behind him, immediately crouching to undo the clasp once Michael closes the door.

Petunia woofs in the crate while he fumbles with the latch, launching forward and nearly tackling Luke once he finally gets it open. He hugs her to him, burying his face in her back, and Michael makes himself look away, reaching for the mugs instead and checking to ensure there's water in the kettle before putting it on the stove.

If Luke wants his cocoa made with milk, he can suck it. Michael hopes he isn't expecting whipped cream, either.

"Can Petunia be on your furniture?" Luke asks, still hugging the wriggling beast. She's a solid dog. Michael isn't sure how Luke got her crate down the stairs.

"Sure," he says. Luke gets her go and she wanders around the apartment sniffing every corner. Michael hopes he didn't leave any snacks lying around. He breaks eye contact with the kettle to peer around the corner and ensure that his bedroom door is closed, too.

"So," he says as he gets out two packets of cocoa mix, ripping them open and pouring them into the mugs. "Where... um, where does your family live?"

He glances at Luke, standing in the middle of the room and looking around with a slight frown on his face.

He could try to seem less judgmental. Michael's trying to help him out here.

"They're in California," Luke says. "The northern part."

"Oh. That'd be a long flight."

"Yeah," Luke says. He doesn't say anything else and Michael has just about run out of his small talk, so he turns back to the kettle and wills it to heat up faster. Petunia's dog collar jingles and Michael looks back long enough to see her hop up on the couch next to where Luke has finally sat down.

"You don't have any Christmas decorations up," Luke says.

"Oh," Michael replies. "No, I guess not."

"Do you not celebrate? Sorry, I don’t know your religion or anything."

"Not really," he says. "I mean, I kind of do, but I'm an atheist, and since I can't go home doing Christmas by myself felt depressing. Calum and I already exchanged gifts."

"Oh," Luke says. "Where does your family live?"

"St. Louis. I have a shift tomorrow night, so it didn't seem worth the drive."

"Sorry," Luke frowns.

"S'okay. Better than trying to go home and having the flight be cancelled."

Luke purses his lips. Michael hopes he doesn’t start crying. Thankfully the kettle chooses that moment to squeal, giving Michael something to do besides stare dumbly at Luke. For someone who spent what was probably a very frustrating and frazzling amount of time at the airport, his hair looks infuriatingly good right now.

"Do you want marshmallows?" he asks. "They're a little stale."

"Sure," Luke says. "Thanks."

Michael gets the marshmallows from his cupboard and plops a few into each of their drinks. He gives Luke the mug his parents got him with his college logo, keeping the Marvel one that Calum bought for himself. Luke takes the mug with both hands, their fingers touching, and Michael tries not to snatch his hand back. Petunia leans forward to sniff, making Michael give her a wide berth on the way to his wicker armchair.

"Are you scared of my dog?" Luke asks. "Look, I know she has some pit bull in her, but that doesn't mean she's a monster. She's really sweet."

"She growled at me when we met."

"When was that?"

Typical. Michael isn't even a big enough blip on Luke's radar for him to remember that they met when he moved in. Sure, Luke probably met a lot of people that day, but Michael lives right next door, and they've obviously seen each other a lot since then.

"When you moved in. I was leaving for a shift, you were moving boxes around, and she came out and growled at me."

"Huh." Luke looks at her. Petunia looks right back, completely unbothered. "She's really not typically like that. The stress of the move made her moody. If you let her sniff you now, she'll let you pet her. Come on."

He sets down his cocoa and gestures Michael forward.

"Dude, it's not a big deal."

"It is," Luke says. He looks sincerely distressed. Michael immediately wants to correct that, like Luke has some sort of weird superpower that makes everyone around him want to keep him happy. "I want you to like my dog. She wants to like you, too."

"Fine," Michael says, rolling his eyes. "I'll meet your stupid dog."

Luke beams. He has dimples. Somehow, this is the worst thing that has happened to Michael today. His insides feel funny, like he swallowed pop rocks.

"Be nice, Piggy," Luke says to the dog. Michael cautiously holds out his hand, letting Petunia snuffle at it. Soon enough she must decide that he isn't worth the trouble because she puts her head back down and lets Michael run a hand over her back.

"She really likes it when you scratch behind her ears."

He tries that out, watching the way her ears flick forward and back and how she keeps moving her eyes from him to Luke. She sighs and smacks her lips twice, kicking out her back leg and stretching further on the couch.

"See?" Luke says. "She likes you."

Michael smiles, sitting gingerly on the edge of the couch so he can continue to pet her.

"I miss dogs," he says. "I keep wanting to get one, but I work too much right now."

"What is it you do?" Luke asks. He drinks some of his hot chocolate, pulling a face but going back in for another sip. MIchael’s not sure if that means his cocoa sucks or is acceptable.

"I work nights at a grocery store, but I babysit for some of the families here, too."

"Really?' Luke asks.

"Don't sound so surprised," Michael snorts.

"Sorry," Luke says. "You just don't strike me as a kid person."

Michael shrugs. Luke has a point. Michael was an only child and he gets tired and grumpy easily. Still, hanging out with his kids usually isn’t that bad.

"It pays well. They're little demons, but at this point all of them like me, so it's not too bad. The hardest thing is pretending to be bad at their video games so they don't get upset because I'm beating them."

“I guess,” Luke says. “I’m a hairstylist, and our salon is pretty high-end. We don’t get a lot of kids, thank goodness. I’d be scared that they’d move and I’d cut off the wrong chunk of hair.”

Huh. That must be why his hair always looks so good.

“You think my hair looks good?” Luke asks.

Shit. Michael is too used to being alone in the apartment and allowed to speak all of his thoughts to the air.

He shrugs.

Luke makes a pleased noise and drinks more of his cocoa. His cheeks look a little red, possibly a side effect of him still wearing his coat even though he’s inside with a warm drink.

Michael goes back to his chair and picks up his own cocoa. Luke takes a few more sips, but it seems like he has used up most of his small talk, too, although he tries as he goes through his backpack, commenting on the book he tucked in there but probably wouldn’t have read and occasionally cooing at Petunia. Michael is grateful when he finishes his own drink and can take it to the sink to rinse it, spying his half-eaten toast and taking a bite along the way.

Luke finds his keys quickly, zipped into an outside pocket.

“Thanks for the cocoa, and letting me let Petunia out,” Luke says, standing in the middle of the room again, backpack on and keys in hand.

“Yeah, sure,” Michael replies. “Hope you have a good Christmas.”

“You too,” Luke says. Michael looks at everything in the room other than him. Luke grabs his things, calls to Petunia, and leaves for the apartment next door.

-/-

There’s a knock on Michael’s door a few hours later. It’s still snowing pretty heavily outside, white flakes standing out against a black sky whenever they pass by a light, so it must be someone in the building. Michael hopes it’s not someone needing a last-minute babysitter. He’s still tired and trying to savor his one night off, even if he doesn’t have any plans beyond video games and movies. He’s going to have to resist shouting at the tv into the early morning now that Luke is home again, but he was still looking forward to it.

Luke is standing outside his door.

“Hi,” Michael says slowly.

“Hey,” Luke says. “Do you want to have dinner?”

“What?” Michael asks, sure that he heard something wrong or is misunderstanding something.

“I dunno. You’re here, I’m here, neither of us are doing anything. I don’t really want to eat alone on Christmas Eve.”

Oh. Michael hopes for once his pale complexion isn’t betraying him, but he can feel his ears burn. Luke is not asking him on a date; he’s just bored and lonely. Luke also has automatically assumed that Michael doesn’t have a life and isn’t doing anything which--while true--is a little offensive.

“Okay,” he shrugs. “What do you want to eat?”

“Well…” Luke looks down at his feet, ever so slightly pigeon-toed. He has really nice legs, even when they’re covered in baggy sweatpants instead of the usual skin-tight pants Michael typically spies him in. “I wasn’t planning on being here for a bit, so I have some pasta but no sauce, or I have pancake mix. We might be able to walk to the Chinese place at the corner, but I don’t know if they’re open with the blizzard.”

“Pancakes sound good,” Michael says. “I have some eggs, if you want those.”

“Thanks,” Luke says. “I have some bread for toast and jam and butter. That’s a full meal. Want to come to mine?”

“Sure,” Michael says. “I’ll get the eggs.”

Michael lets his door swing closed. He toes on his shoes and grabs his phone, then almost forgets the eggs anyway and has to double back to the kitchen.

He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to walk right in to Luke’s apartment or knock out of politeness. After a moment of deliberation he chooses the latter, navigating around the wreath to rap his knuckles against the wood, which sends Petunia barking and therefore might have been the wrong choice. Luke doesn’t seem bothered when he opens the door, though. He just smiles and steps aside, then tells Petunia to stop. Petunia actually greets Michael at the door, too, snuffling at his feet before trotting after Luke to the kitchen area.

"Woah," he says involuntarily once he gets a clear look at the apartment. There's a fake tree in the corner, which he expected, but what takes him aback is the tinsel hanging from the ceiling in green and red, the small Santas and snowmen standing proud on available surfaces like the TV stand, side table, and counter, and the numerous other fake evergreen springs scattered around. There are Christmas pillows on the couch. There's a wooden reindeer on the wall.

Michael knew that Luke loved Christmas given the numerous carol-sessions and decorations seen from outside the apartment, but somehow he still hadn't considered that the inside would look like this.

"I got started already," Luke calls from the kitchen. Michael breaks himself out of his decoration shock and follows him into the small area, looking in the mixing bowl Luke gestures to. The batter inside doesn't appear to be mixed very well, just milk sitting around a mound of powder. "I don't know when you usually eat, since you work so late, but I hope you don't mind. If you hate it you don't have to eat it or whatever; I'm not the best cook and I know that you're just humoring me."

Luke puts his hands on the counter and sighs.

"Sorry. I'm rambling."

"It's okay," Michael says. "I prefer rambling to awkward silence."

"I'm great at awkwardness," Luke says. "I excel at being awkward. If it's possible to make a situation more awkward, I can do it."

"Yeah, I'm getting that," Michael says, eyeing him. This Luke is different than the Luke Michael so often sees in the hallway. He's softened by the grey tracksuit he's wearing, hair now pulled half-up, slight embarrassment staining his movements. This Luke is approachable and comfortable. Michael thinks he can find his footing here. The Luke that he interacted with before today is intimidating in his heeled ankle boots and silk shirts. This one seems like... well, a little like a dork.

Michael reaches for the pancake mix box while Luke takes a fork and starts stirring.

"Hey, did you put an egg in?"

Luke freezes.

"This needs eggs?"

Huh. This Luke is a dork who is hopeless in the kitchen.

"You weren't underestimating your cooking skills earlier," he says. "Have you made pancakes before?"

"It was a while ago, okay?" Luke defends. "I eat out a lot."

"Every self-respecting person should be able to make pancakes," Michael says. He takes one of the eggs and cracks it over the bowl, Luke pausing in his mixing to give him room. Thankfully, Luke seems to have a griddle plugged in and warming up. Michael thinks it probably was a housewarming present that doesn't get much use.

"What kind of eggs do you want?" Michael asks.

"Uh, scrambled."

"How many?"

"You choose."

Michael has never cooked with Luke. Michael has never seen Luke eat and therefore doesn't know his appetite. Michael has no clue what to do with that answer.

"Can I have a pan?" he asks.

"Sure," Luke says distractedly, forcefully stabbing at the egg in his mixing bowl to break the yoke. "They're right over there."

He kicks his leg out towards one of the lower cabinets, right behind where Petunia has taken up residence.

"Hey Petunia, want to move?" he asks her, crouching and slowly opening the drawer. She stares at him. He scratches behind her ears and continues to pull the drawer out as far as he can, but it's not far enough. Eventually she must find the drawer pushing into her back more inconvenient than shifting her position, because she heaves herself up and leaves to sit by her food dish in the corner instead.

"Is this mixed enough?" Luke asks. He tilts the bowl and Michael cranes his neck to see. The fact that Luke is asking him at all is weird, because Michael himself isn't exactly in the running for a Michelin star, but there's something to be said about the easy way Luke has admitted his weakness here and turned to Michael for help. Michael himself would probably just keep messing stuff up rather than admit he needed guidance.

"Um, it's a little lumpy still."

Luke sighs and begins mixing again. Michael finds a suitable pan and begins cracking eggs.

True to his promises, Luke keeps rambling all throughout the dinner-making process. He talks about his favorite foods and his friends and asks Michael if they can add chocolate chips to half the pancakes, as if Luke is the guest here instead of Michael. When he remembers to catch his breath, he asks Michael about himself, seeking the information he had already ended up word-vomiting. It's a lot more endearing than Michael thought it would be. For how annoying he finds Luke, there's something endlessly charming about hearing him nervously spout facts about himself. It's even more charming when he doesn't reprimand Michael for eating some chocolate chips straight out of the bag.

He manages to get batter on his nose halfway through the cooking process. When Michael points it out, Luke's cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink, and Michael makes himself turn to start the toast.

The pancakes land themselves on a plate and Luke gets out another two for them to use. Michael splits the eggs between them and Luke hands out the toast, then they take two of the stools at the counter to eat.

They're not exactly the best pancakes he's ever eaten, but they're not bad at all. They're made even better by the fact that Michael isn't eating them alone.

Being on a different schedule than everyone else and living alone means that the vast majority of his meals are spent by himself, typically with the tv on just to give a bit of noise. While Luke turns on the radio softly, Michael barely registers it, too busy listening to Luke's stories of the salon and countering with tales from the night shift at the grocery. It's deceptively easy to keep conversation flowing between them.

Before Michael has taken his first bite of pancake, he's already decided that hating Luke was a stupid decision.

Of course, Luke is just lonely on Christmas Eve. While he's smiling and laughing hard enough at things Michael says to sometimes duck forward, close enough to rest his head on Michael's shoulder if he wanted, there's no guarantee that something like this will ever happen with them again.

Michael chews his last few bites slowly.

“Hey,” Luke says as he’s putting the plates in the sink, where the mixing bowl and pan are already taking up residence, “do you want to stay for a bit? If you don’t have work or anything? I usually watch some movies on Christmas Eve, but if you don’t want to we can do something else, like…” He looks around his apartment, biting his lip. Michael does not stare. “I have some decks of cards? We can have more hot chocolate?”

“I’d be down for a movie,” Michael says. Luke's shoulders slump in relief. It makes Michael feel better that Luke would be relieved over him staying. He's astoundingly easy to read up close, emotions flickering over his face and seeping into his body language to create an open book. It makes it easier to believe that Luke was asking out of a genuine desire to keep his company, rather than misplaced politeness or simple loneliness.

"Great!" Luke says. "Awesome."

"What do you usually watch?" Michael asks.

"Uh, the Lord of the Rings."

That wasn't what Michael was expecting. Honestly, he was betting on Elf.

"Like, all three? Isn't that twelve hours?"

"We usually have them going right after lunch. I think my parents hoped that watching would tire us out so we wouldn't wake them up early to open presents before church."

"Did it work?" Michael asks.

"Nope," Luke grins. "Jack--one of my brothers--always ensured we were awake when the sun rose."

"If I had a brother wake me up that early, I would kill him," Michael says.

"Not me. I wanted him to," Luke says. "I loved running to the living room and seeing all of the presents and our stockings lined up. I didn't want to wait a moment more than I had to."

Michael tries to picture a younger Luke Hemmings running excitedly to look under his Christmas tree, early rays of dawn streaming in through a window and fresh snow on the ground.

He doesn't know what Luke looked like back then. It puts a damper on things, but the image is soaked in nostalgia and happiness regardless.

"If you wake me up early tomorrow it'll be the last thing you do, but we can watch Lord of the Rings," he says. Luke grins.

"Can we make a blanket fort, too?" he asks.

"What are you, six?"

Luke's face immediately crumples.

Shit.

"No, not like that! It's not a bad thing!" he backpedals. "Like, I'm just teasing. I do it with all of my friends. If Calum had asked I'd have said the same thing even though I want to."

Luke eyes him critically.

"We're friends now?"

Michael rubs at his chest. He hadn't even thought before he had said that. He shouldn't have assumed. If Luke hadn't warmed up to him in the entirety of their four months as neighbors, why should one night make any difference?

"I guess," he says. "Why not? I gave you eggs."

"Yeah, a true sign of friendship," Luke says dryly.

Fuck. He fucked this up.

"I should go," he says, starting for the door. Luke lurches into motion, catching his arm as he passes. It sends goosebumps erupting across his skin, freezing him in his tracks.

"Wait, don't," Luke says. "Sorry. We're friends. Don't go, please. I didn't--we're friends. I want us to be friends."

He releases Michael's arm, and Michael feels like he can breath again.

"We're really bad at this," he says. It makes Luke laugh, lifting at least half the heaviness in the air. "We're friends, we're going to make a fucking blanket fort, and we're going to watch Lord of the Rings. Right?"

"Right," Luke says.

"Good. Let's get started on that blanket fort."

Luke's definition of a blanket fort is more of a nest. They don't have anything tall enough to prop up a ceiling unless they take the cushions they need to use as a floor, even with Michael going back to his own apartment to bring pillows and blankets. In the end, Luke moves his small coffee table and they simply pile as much padding and blankets as they can find in front of the couch. Luke pops a bag of popcorn and offers beverages. Once he gets settled Petunia flops down next to him, leaving Michael to set up the movie with Luke giving directions, since neither of them could disturb Petunia in good conscience.

Luke ends up disturbing her anyway to take her outside for the bathroom so she doesn't interrupt the movie.

Being alone in Luke's apartment with no distraction is strange, so he takes out his phone and texts Calum.

To Calpal: im in lukes apartment we had pancakes and now we are watching lord of the rings

From Calpal: ???? hot mean neighbor luke?

To Calpal: yeah his flight was cancelled

From Calpal: ????????????? I thought you hated him

To Calpal: hes kinda a dork cant cook for shit his dog likes me now hes kinda funny too we are officially friends

From Calpal: ??????????????????????

Luke’s door opens, and Michael has to scramble for the popcorn so Petunia won’t be able to get at it while Luke takes off his boots and jacket.

To Calpal: g2g tell you later

“Hey, Petunia,” Michael says when she presses against him, stretching for the popcorn he’s holding out of reach. He runs a hand over her back, fur cold and damp. “Is it still snowing?”

“A little,” Luke calls. “I think it’ll stop soon.” He gets the main light, leaving a lamp on a side table lit, then flops down on the blankets and cushions, shoulder knocking Michael’s briefly.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Luke presses play, and the opening instrumental and Galadriel’s narration fills the small apartment.

Luke is chatty during movies. Michael would be more annoyed by it if this wasn’t clearly a movie he had seen millions of times before with a million memories to accompany. Besides, when Michael says he’d like to be a hobbit so he could snack all the time, Luke makes another bag of popcorn for him without asking.

“Do you think--” he asks, then stops. On screen, the Fellowship arrives at Lothlorien.

“Do I think what?” Michael prompts.

“Do you think I’ll be able to go home tomorrow?”

Michael looks at him, lounging back on the cushions with one of the blankets pulled around him. He let his hair down, curls shadowing his face a bit more in the low light.

“Yeah, if the snow stops,” he says. “But if not… if you’re still lonely, you can hang out with me until I go to work.”

“Really?” Luke asks.

“Yeah, why not,” Michael says. “If you’re not sick of me, I don’t have any plans. I was just going to play video games.”

Luke smiles at him.

“I like video games.”

“Great. We’ll play video games.”

Michael turns back to the movie, but Luke’s hand snakes over a snoring Petunia and grabs his own.

“Thank you,” he says. “Really. You’ve made what would’ve been a really shit time into a surprisingly nice Christmas.”

“It’s not even Christmas yet,” Michael says, feeling his cheeks heat up. Thankfully Luke won’t be able to see it in the low light.

“You’ll make that nice, too.”

Michael squirms under his attention. It feels too nice, and that’s something he can’t afford to consider right now.

“Um, I think there’s an important scene coming up,” he says. Luke squeezes his hand again, but returns his attention back to the screen.

Michael is the one to put the second movie in, because Luke is still sniffling over the ending of the first. Michael’s not sure if he’s allowed to tease him for it, especially when his own eyes welled up. He cries over movies pretty easily, and there’s something to be said about the loyalty and love packed into the last piece of the story, something that Michael occasionally wonders if he’ll ever find.

He comes close with Calum, but Calum also has a roommate and boyfriend. Michael wouldn’t mind another person to love, too.

“I think this one is my least favorite,” Luke says drowsily when Michael presses play. “Too much Gollum. He used to give me nightmares as a kid.”

“Really?” Michael asks. Luke nods.

“That, and the scene in the first one where they’re making the Uruk-hai and they appear from the mud.”

“When I was young, I had lots of nightmares about showing up to school in my underwear and everyone laughing at me. It would happen once a week. I started ditching school because it made me too nervous.”

Luke hums.

“I wouldn’t have laughed at you.”

“It was middle school. Everyone would’ve laughed.”

“Not now,” Luke says. “I know you now. I’d wait until I knew you were okay to laugh.”

“Thanks,” Michael says. Luke nods. He keeps sinking lower and lower into the blankets, eyelids drooping more every time Michael checks on him. Michael himself would still be in the middle of his shift at the grocery store on a typical day, and he could keep going for hours. The relaxed atmosphere they’ve formed might let him clock out early, though.

They watch most of this movie in silence, Luke’s commentary diminishing more and more as the movie wears on. There are a few times where Michael thinks he’s finally fallen asleep and he should take his leave, but then Luke will shift or say something else.

“Michael?” he asks eventually, voice small and eyes closed. He’s curled on his side facing him, giving up any pretence of continuing to watch.

“Hm?”

“Will you stay here tonight?”

“Sure,” he says. Luke smiles and snuggles deeper into the blanket. His breathing evens out more, slipping seamlessly into sleep. Michael looks at the way his eyelashes brush his cheeks, savoring the unguarded expression on his face. He’s almost ethereal like this, as fair and otherworldly as the elves on the tv but twice as captivating.

Michael puts the third movie in once it’s time. He’s asleep within ten minutes.

-/-

Michael wakes disoriented, tangled in multiple blankets and propped on too many pillows. There’s noise somewhere near him, someone else shuffling and the rustle of a jacket being put on, but it doesn’t feel out of place. This person isn’t an enemy breaking in.

“Wha?” he asks, trying to turn towards the noise.

“Sorry, sorry,” Luke murmurs. “I’m going to try to see if I can get to church. Go back to sleep.”

Soft fingers brush his hair to the side, lingering. He leans into the touch before it’s gone.

He rolls over and goes back to sleep.

-/-

The smell of coffee draws him fully out of sleep a while later. Michael blinks and does his best to detangle himself, sitting up and looking around groggily until he processes Luke standing at the counter, mug in hand. It’s a sight that Michael could get used to if he was allowed. He’s in his typical jeans and fancy shirt, a juxtaposition to yesterday, and Michael isn’t sure what that means about the dorky guy who wanted to make a blanket fort rather than the one who always brushed by Michael in the hallway.

He clears his throat. Luke’s answering grin is wide and familiar.

“Hi,” he says.

“Good morning,” Luke says. “Afternoon. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” he hums. “Coffee?”

Luke pours another mug, offering Michael cream and sugar. He brings it over, and this time when their fingers brush over the mug Michael doesn’t feel the need to snatch his hand away.

“How was church?” he asks.

“It was good,” Luke says. “The plows were out overnight, so I was only a little late.” He looks down at his mug, fingertip tracing the rim. “I wish I had been able to go with my family. It’s fine though. Mum will probably have us go on Sunday.”

Michael nods.

“I, uh, got a message from the airport, too. My flight got rescheduled. I’m going to have to leave in about an hour.”

“Oh,” Michael says.

“Sorry.”

“What? No, this is a good thing. I’m glad you get to go home,” he says, hoping he doesn’t sound too disappointed. He had been looking forward to spending part of the day with Luke more than he thought, and to have that taken away from him feels like a punch to the gut.

“Guess we’re going to have to reschedule the video games,” Luke says.

“Yeah.”

“Or,” he says, “we could go on a date?”

Michael gives himself whiplash with how quickly he looks up.

“I, uh, don’t know if you even like guys,” Luke says, “but I’ve had a lot of fun with you, and I’ve always thought you were cute.”

“I thought you didn’t like me until yesterday.”

Luke shrugs.

“I can think you’re hot and be frustrated about it at the same time.”

Michael nods because yeah, that tracks. Michael has never kidded himself about how nice Luke is to look at, even when he was cursing his name for waking him up with Christmas carols.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Yeah, you agree that you’re hot and frustrating? Or--”

“Yeah, let’s go on a date. Or stay in on a date. Whatever you want.”

Luke grins. Michael hides his smile behind his cup of coffee, but Luke can probably see it anyway.

“Want some pancakes?” Luke asks. “We have the leftovers from yesterday.”

“If you can handle heating them up.”

Luke swats at him on the way past and Michael tries to trip him in retaliation. It almost works, earning him a reproachful look that he responds to with a wink. Luke ducks his head.

Michael is going to flirt with him so hard in the future. He can’t wait to see Luke’s face turn different shades of pink.

They have to clean up the blanket fort after breakfast, and by then Luke barely has time to get Petunia ready before needing to leave. Michael offers to drive him to the airport, but Luke says Petunia rides best in his car, and he’d rather park it at the airport so he doesn’t have to call for a ride home.

Luke walks him to his door, even though it’s only a few feet away.

“Hey,” he says. “Thanks again for making me pancakes and watching movies with me, and for inviting me in for hot chocolate earlier. I’m glad you did.”

“I’m glad you said yes,” Michael says. “Let me know when you get back.”

“I will.”

“Have a good time,” Michael says. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Michael.”

Luke leans forward and kisses his cheek. When he steps back, he’s smiling again. Michael mirrors it and stays standing in front of his door until Luke has disappeared into his.

His apartment feels small and empty after sharing Luke’s for the night. There’s no pillow fort spread on the floor nor dog lounging on the couch.

Of course, Luke’s apartment will be empty soon, too. He’ll be with his family, enjoying Christmas day with them, while Michael’s own parents will be without him for the first year since he was born.

He brings out his phone and dials his home number, listening to it ring a few times before someone picks up.

“Michael? How are you? Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas Mum,” he says.

“Oh, we miss you, darling,” she says. “We wish you could be here. Are you still having an alright time?”

“I actually am,” he says. “I, uh, was celebrating with someone this morning. Have I mentioned my neighbor Luke?”

“No, I don’t think you have. Why don’t you tell me about him?”

Michael gets comfortable on his couch and tells his mother all about spending Christmas with Luke Hemmings.

#my writing #muke #5sos fanfic #ficmas 2020 #MUKE! muke #conceptually I've been digging them a lot recently so this was nice to write #also I say that calum has a boyfriend and a roommate..........#in my head one is roy and one is Ashton. flip a coin for which is which there is no roy disrespect in this house

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notchesandbullets · 4 years ago

Text

Ryokuryuu’s Lifeline

Part 6: Pain

Your back collided harshly with cold stone as the officers tossed you around in the alley. Just like you predicted, it didn't take long for them to find you. They always hunted for unsuspecting women and children wandering around late at night.

Tch, what kind of sick person prays on innocent people...

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, the skin coming away spotted with scarlet. Snarling, you launched yourself at the closest officer, and he fell down with a surprised shout. The other pulled you off of him, fist making contact with your jaw, almost knocking you out.

You blinked as the world around you spun.

Here we go...

Then, it all faded to black.

///

"Whatever it comes down to, I'll be right there with you. I promise."

Your determined voice pulsed through Yona's mind as she trekked up the hill to where her comrades were for the night, recalling what you had said to her the night Captain Gi-gan drew up the initial battle plans. Jae-ha had nodded off, and you both were exchanging hushed whispers, careful not to catch the attention of a certain hovering Thunder Beast. When you had first proposed the idea of going in undercover without telling anyone, she immediately was against it.

Yona didn't know what Yang Kum-ji had done to you personally, but she definitely didn't want to give him an opportunity to repeat it. You hastily rationalized your idea, knowing you didn't have a lot of time before Jae-ha woke up. The conversations the crew was engaged in rose in volume above yours, effectively concealing it from curious ears.

"I'm ready to face him. I've been running, but not anymore. If I can save one person from the fate that Jae-ha saved me from, then I'm going to do it."

Your tone left no room for argument, and Yona didn't have to ask to know that you didn't tell Jae-ha or the captain any of this. She would tell them tomorrow so that they would at least know about it before they started the infiltration.

Maybe they could dissuade you.

She glanced up to see Hak's dark figure leaning against the cliff. Yona stepped past him, but didn't get very far. She let out a shriek as he slammed her against the rock, pinning her with his arms on either side of her head.

"What can I do..." Yona looked up to see Hak's normally clear, cobalt eyes had darkened to obsidian. "...to stop you?"

"Hak..." Yona murmured.

"Do you know how dangerous it is to go to Kum-ji's place? You just did something reckless, didn't you?!" He shouted, gritting his teeth as he remembered the despair that filled him when Yona and the others were trapped in a cave in at Seiryuu's village.

He leaned his face into her shoulder, hoping to hide the fear in his eyes. "Sometimes... I want to tie you down."

Yona couldn't ignore his words as her heart shook, "Hak! M-Move aside!"

He didn't budge, despite her best attempts to create some kind distance between them and retain some of her usual color in her face. Eventually, she sighed and relented.

She needed him to hear her reasons for doing this, just like you had explained yours to her. "I used to think Kouka was an abundant country. I thought it was a country where people smiled and there was no conflict just like my father desired."

Yona paused, taking a second to formulate her thoughts into words. "But, the land of the Fire Tribe and Awa port haven't changed since my father's reign. Responsibility for the Fire Tribe and this town being the way they are also lies with me."

"Hak," He pulled back slightly to stare directly into her eyes, but Yona brushed off how her heart stuttered, intent on finishing. "Let me go. I am going to fight."

Her violet eyes burned with searing fire, and he let her pass, watching as the princess walked the rest of the way back towards camp. His heart was beating so violently, and he feared it would beat right out of his chest.

"Tsk, even though I said I absolutely don't want her to go... I'm shaking with... excitement? I want to see the princess..." Hak grinned, eyes glowing with unspoken pride. "End this successfully."

He sat up in alarm as an anguished scream pierced the silent night air. Kija, Shin-ah, Yoon and Yona burst from the forest, startling Hak even more.

"What was that?!" Yona cried out as Kija panted beside her. It was obvious that he was the only one who had been asleep.

Shin-ah pointed to the pirate ship, "Ryokuryuu..."

They tore through the night, reaching the docks in record time.

"What's going on?!" Hak demanded, eyes widening as they landed on Jae-ha's shaking form, clutching a crumpled piece of paper in his hands and Captain Gi-gan glared at them.

"Shouldn't you know?" The captain retorted savagely.

Kija was bewildered. "What?"

Yona carefully went to Jae-ha's side, easing the paper from his grip and unfolding it.

She almost dropped it.

Scrawled in blurry ink, she made out the message.

Jae-ha,

I'm sorry, but I've got to do this. It's selfish for me to hide while others take on the same fate that you spared me from so long ago. I have to do my part too. Yona inspired me, but please don't be angry with her. She did know, I asked her not to tell you. I understand I'm a coward for not telling you this in person, I was afraid I'd lose my resolve if I faced you. I know you'll probably hate me after this, but I want to save them. I'll do anything to save them from the pain that Kum-ji will inflict on them. There was so much I wanted to say to you... I'm sorry I couldn't. Know that you meant everything to me, Jae-ha.

-Y/N

P.S. Keep a lookout for metallic green attached to a mast, Captain Gi-gan. That will indicate which ship Kum-ji is on. I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye, but perhaps Yona will be a better replacement for me. Thank you for all the lessons that you've taught me. I will treasure it forever.

"You idiot," Yona lifted her head as she heard Captain Gi-gan scoff brokenly. "As if anyone could ever replace you."

Jae-ha's violent sobs racked his body, shattering Yona's heart. He was bent over, head pressed against the wood, darkening it as endless tears fell from his eyes.

"I-I'm so sorry, Jae-ha!" Yona let out a cry, the reality of what you had done setting in, and the pain crashed over her in waves. She reached out to him, but Hak grabbed her by the arm, shoving her behind him protectively. There was no telling what the distraught Ryokuryuu would do in this state.

Je-ha didn't seem to hear Yona, all he could think about was you.

How he failed you.

How he couldn't keep you safe.

You went back, did you not care about him at all?

You meant everything to me, Jae-ha....

His body trembled as your soft voice echoed in his head, and he cried harder, teeth nearly cracking underneath the pressure as his jaw clenched in agony.

Why?

Why did you do this to him?

Didn't you know how much it would hurt him?

"Jae-ha..." He faintly heard Captain Gi-gan's voice, but it seemed so far away. No one was there to calm him down.

You were gone.

Would he ever see you again?

"Jae-ha." Her voice was clearer this time.

"Y/N..." Looking up, Jae-ha thought he saw your concerned face, but as his vision cleared, he saw the captain peering down at him worriedly, unmistakable sadness etched in her eyes.

She wrapped her arms around him, embracing him tightly as Jae-ha sobbed into her shoulder for what seemed like hours until he finally stopped and she released him.

The deck was empty, he had no idea when everyone had left, but he was grateful for their absence for once.

"Jae-ha, we'll get her back." Captain Gi-gan stated fiercely.

His eyes were swimming with grief, regret and a whirlwind of other emotions she couldn't identify and the captain knew it was only a matter of time before he spiraled out of control. You were the only one who could keep him successfully grounded, just like he did for you, and as much as she despised the way you went about things, she understood why.

After all you had been through, there was no way you would be able to convince her, let alone Jae-ha, to let you go back to the man who had kept you chained to an alleyway.

Captain Gi-gan begrudgingly acknowledged the rationality in your plan, but that didn't mean she agreed with it.

There was a very high chance you wouldn't make it out alive and that was a possibility she was not willing to entertain.

Yona and Yoon were supposed to leave the day of the exchange taking place with the Kai Empire, which was scheduled to be tomorrow. By being there a whole 24 hours more than them, there was no telling what state you would be in once they found you.

If they found you.

"We're going to get her back." She reminded him firmly, just as much for his sake as it was for her. "Jae-ha, you've got to fight for her."

That snapped something inside of him, and in a heartbeat, he was on his feet, a murderous look in his eyes. Fury blazed from within him and threatened to scorch any living thing that got too close.

"Captain," Green hair obscured her view of his eyes, but if she was able to see it, she would see the unhinged anger and desperation flashing in them. "I might not be able to hold myself back this time. I am going to kill him and anyone else who gets in my way." He warned.

She sighed, "She wouldn't want us to do that, but I'm not sure I can hold back either."

They had taken you away from her again, even if you went willingly to stop them.

Yang Kum-ji was going to pay for the girls that he had stolen from their homes, but he was going to pay a million times over if he so much as breathed on you.

Y/N... Captain Gi-gan closed her eyes in unusual desperation as Jae-ha stomped below deck, presumably to take his anger out on something. The normally calm and collected captain was gone and in her place was a worried and brokenhearted mother.

Hold on. We're coming.

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davids69811 · 3 years ago

Text

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years ago

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Stark Spangled Forever- Utter Nonsense Drabble... 40 Questions!

Yeah so don’t ask me where this came from, but I saw these floating around and for some reason decided it would be funny if Steve and Katie answered some of them instead of me...

I think the original post was from @odaatlover and I think I was taggeed by @sweater-daddiesdumbdork. Anyway, I took my favourite ones and this was the result...enjoy!

1. What’s one animal you wish you could have as a pet but can’t?

Katie: I’d kinda like a tiger. They’re so graceful and pretty but pack a mean bite and you wouldn’t mess with one would you?

Steve: Who does that remind you of?

2. Favorite thing to wear to sleep?

Steve: (grinning) Nothing.

Katie : I can confirm that is also my favourite thing he sleeps in...

3. What song really gets you going?

Katie: In what way? If it’s to dance and just act like a crazy fool to then its always going to be “Back in Black” because it reminds me a lot of Tony and happy times growing up. But if its one to spark memories then its our wedding song.

Steve: “The Only One In Color” by Trapt. I also kinda like the John Legend song “You and I” because it reminds me of her, you know, the bit aout trying on every damned out fit she ownes before we can go out.

Katie: I don’t do that.

Steve looks at Katie, eyebrow raising.

Katie: Ok, maybe I can be a little incecisive....but tha wasn’t really the point of the...you know what, never mind. Next...

4. Where do you usually eat your meals?

Steve: It depends. If its breakfast or lunch dring the week then it’s usual eaten on the go whilst we’re getting the kids sorted or I’m in between classes...but dinner, well we always try and sit down. And at weekends we always eat at the table with the kids.

5. Favorite meal: breakfast, lunch, or dinner?

Katie: Dinner. During the week Steve and I eat a little bit later than the kids so we have that time to ourselves just to decompress and talk about our day, have a bit of us time...and at weekend we’re al together so I love it.

Steve: I love it for all those reasons, and also because she’s the best damned cook on the planet.

6. Most embarrassing habit?

Katie: Erm...

Steve: It’s pretty embarassing when you throw a Brat tantrum about something.. Katie: I don’t do that in public.

Steve: Bullshit. I refer you to the whole car purchasing situation a few years ago.

Katie: Jamie was only a baby...I was hormonal.

Steve: Hormonal my ass, you were being a brat.

Katie: Whatever. Yours is definately the need to stand with your hands on your hips and give someone your Captain look, especially when it’s someone you have never met before but they just happen to be doing something to piss you off.

Steve: I make no apologies for this. People can be idiots.

7. Chocolate or fruity candy?

Both at same time: Chocolate.

Steve: Preferably British. Cadbury’s to be specific. I got a taste for it when I was in London during the war.

Katie: He has a secret stash he hides from the kids...it’s great to blackmail him with.

8. Soft or hard tacos?

Steve: Soft

Katie: Hard

Steve: Although hard ones always remind me of when you went into labour with Jamie. We were making them for lunch and you had a contraction and crushed one...

Katie: Oh yeah, maybe soft in that case...because that was painful. And then I went throguh that another 3 times.Which is your fault.

Steve: I take full responsibility, yes.

9. Worst way to break up a fight?

Katie: Walk into the middle of it and say “Prove it, put the hamer down...” Steve: sighs, That was one time.

Katie: And it levelled a forest.

Steve: Did it work?

Katie: Hmmm, suppose so.

Steve: There you go ...but if its a fight between us, the I can think of the best way to break it up...

Katie : grinning, yeah...that’ s pretty funny. Or the worst one is telling you you’re in the spare room.

Steve: Yeah...that sucks.

10. Best thing to say in an elevator of strangers?

Katie: Putting on deep voice “Before we get started, does anyone wanna get out?”

Steve: Sighing I wish I had some smart reply to that bu I don’t...

Katie: No, you just threw us out the side of the damned thing from 14 storeys up

Steve: 19

Katie: That’s...that’s not better Steve.

11. Any hidden talents?

Steve: Not so much hidden really but I’m not a bad artist and Katie’s singing and piano playing is off the scale.

Katie: Steve’s really good at DIY. Like, brilliantly good. And also pretty savvy with technology all things considered...

Steve: When you say all things considered you mean because I’m like 112

Katie: Actually, you’re like 127 if you count the 15 years you spent back in time after putting the stones back.

Steve: hesitates I thought you said they didn’t count because I didn’t spend them with you.

Katie: They don’t, but they still happened.

12. Socks or bare feet around the house?

Steve: Socks

Katie: Bare feet

Steve: Neither of those protect you from standing on lego, which for the record, I reckon has to be a pain worse than chilbirth.

Katie: Seriously? You’re going there?

Steve: Ok, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration but it still hurts like hell.

13: Favorite board game?

Katie: Monopoly. Its funny to watch Emmy and Jamie getting really agitated and annoyed. The younger 3 don’t really get it, Rori just likes to help Steve by sorting all his money into piles and suggesting things he can spend it on.

Steve: Namely tutus and tap shoes...she still wants to be chorus girl.

14:Heat on or keep it cold with lots of layers?

Katie: Oh my God. Steve is a nightmare as he runs hotter than any of us, so whilst we want the fire or heat on he’s complaining he’s boiling hot all the time. Our bedroom is like an ice block.

Steve: Doll, I’ve been in an ice block. Trust me, our bedroom is like a furnace in comparison.

Katie: It si nice though, like sleeping with a big hot water bottle.

15: At what age did you first have alcohol?

Katie: I’m sure Tony gave me beer when I was 15 or something but the first time I ever got drunk was aged 17. I went to a keg party at one of my friends and I was aboslutely shit faced. Tony held my hair back whilst i puked my guts upt for a good hour once I was home. I had the hangover to end all hangovers the next day and he cracked JARVIS up to maximum volume just to teach me a lesson.

Steve: I think I was 18. Me and Buck drank a bottle of his dad’s home made hooch...yeah, it didn’t take me much to get me drunk back then and I was very, very illl. Ma thought I had a fever. Mr Barnes thought it was hilarious, but still gave us both a slap upside th head...

16. What’s the most amount of money you’ve spent on a single item of clothing?

Katie: I would say my wedding dress, but Tony bought that for me, so it would probably the the dress I wore to the SIP Launch for The Color Of Revenge...that cost...well it was in the tens of thousands

Steve: Blinking How much?

Katie: You don’t need to know.

17. What do you typically wear to formal events?

Steve: Whatever my gal tells me to.

Katie: And you always look great Soldier.

18. Favorite memory?

Steve: Oooh, other than when we adopted Emmy or the kids were born, I’d have to say when Katie agreed to be my wife. I’ll never forget that day as long as I live.

Katie: Me neither, not least becase I got my camero...

Steve: rolls eyes.

Katie: Joking aside, yeah the engagement sticks in my mind but I think it was when you finally kissed me for the first time. I knew then that I was never gonna let you go.

Steve: yeah...that...ok you know what this is an impossible question after being together for so long.

19. Favorite shoes?

Katie: I have a pair of sparkly gold Jimmy Choo stilettoes that I’ve had for ages. They’re gorgeous, with ankle straps and pointed toes. I’ve had them for almost 17 years but they’re amazin.

Steve: grins. Yeah, they’re my favourite shoes too...

Katie: Pervert.

Steve: I’m not even gonna deny it. Those shoes ALWAYS stay on if I can help it.

20. Most dangerous thing you’ve ever done?

Both start to laugh hysterically.

Steve: Where do we start?

Katie: New York, Washington, Sokovia, Lagos, Leipzig, Siberia, Wakanda, Upstate and proablly a whole load of other places in between could be good places Stevie.

Steve: Yeah, this...I can’t answer this.

21. Most embarrassing thing your parents have caught you doing?

Katie: I was 7 when my parents died but taking Tony as surrogate, I reckon him catching us in the kitchen when we were...you know, and he didn’t actually know about us has got to be up there.

Steve: Yeah, that was pretty bad... although my Ma once caught me and Bucky measuring our... looks down.

Katie: splutters What? You never told me this?

Steve: Well its not exactly somethign that crops up in conersation sweethheart? “Oh by the way, once when we were 16 me and Buck compared sizes...” Katie: Blinks. Boys are strange. So who had the biggest...

Steve: Next question...

22. Last time you had an orgasm?

Both grin.

Steve: Last night

Katie: I can confrim this...there’s not many nights to be fair where we don’t...

23: Celebrity Crushes?

Katie: grins. Does Bucky Barnes count?

Steve: Fuck you.

24: Makeup or natural?

Katie: Normally I just wear a bit of tinted moisturiser and mascara, now I have the kids anyway. I don’t have time to really do my face in a morning. I’ll make the effort when we go out though...

Steve: You don’t need it honey.

Katie: Awww thanks baby.

Steve: Although that red lipstick you wear, the bright red..yeah...I like that... grins wickedly and winks It smears well...

Katie flushes: dirt bag

25. Favorite season?

Katie: Summer. Growing up in Malibu I like the sun and warmth.

Steve: Fall. It’s an artists dream...the colours and textures are amazing to work with

Katie: Fall is rubbish. Everything dies and it’s a bit shit.

Steve: But you make apple pie and get to snuggle in my sweaters.

Katie: literally the only 2 things good about it.

26. Are you a competitive person?

Katie snorts and looks at Steve

Steve: I’m not even going to deny it.

Katie: He even refuses to let the kids win a games sometimes.

Steve: Important life lessons, Doll.

27. First pet you’ve ever owned?

Katie: My goldfish Flounder, the one that Tony replaced about 8 times. Other than that it was my Turkey Marv, he was ace.

Steve: I didn’t have any growing up so mine would be Lucky. He was a great dog.

28. Favorite pasta dish?

Steve: Mac and Cheese, specifically Katie’s. It’s amazing.

Katie smiling: Yeah I like Mac and Cheese, but I also enjoy carbonara.

29. Favorite kind of pizza?

Both: Pepperoni.

Steve: New York Style.

Katie: I like Deepdish every now and then.

Steve: It’s not the same...

Katie: well dur, that’s the point.

Steve: Yeah, not convinced.

30. Lots of acquaintances or a handful of close friends?

Katie: Handful of close friends, without a doubt. They become an extension of your family, you know. All of us in the Avengers were close and when you have that bond, you’ll do anything for one another.

Steve: Agree completely. When you’re close like we all are then it makes everything that little bit easier, knowing that whatever you’re facing you’ve got each others 6.

31: Something that ruins your appetite?

Katie: Narrows eyes Whenver I see Ross on Tv. Makes me want to puke.

Steve: You really should let that go you know?

Katie: Never. I hold a grudge very well.

Steve: Don’t I know it.

32. Night out with a bunch of friends in public or night in with one friend having deep conversations?

Steve: I’ve never been one for big nights out. I enjoy the odd one now and then but, I’d much rather curl up on the sofa or round the firepit with Katie or Sam or Bucky with a beer and some decent talk.

Katie: Yeah, at one time I would have said night out hands down, but certianly since having the kids, or even since we started dating, it’s definately change my ideas a little. Some of the nicest nights we’ve had have been spent on the sofa.

Steve grins: yeah...

Katie: And not just because of that....

33. Have you ever told someone you loved them first?

Steve: I’ve only ever told one girl I loved them and she’s sat right here, and I said it first that night...

Katie: smiling Yeah, yeah you did. I wasn’t far behind though, like 3 seconds or something.

34. Have you ever had sex on the first date?

Katie: Does a one night stand count as a first date? Because if so then yes...

Steve: Same.

Katie: Lottie?

Steve: Storm?

Both look at one another, teasingly.

Katie: Ok next question...

35. Heroes or villains?

Steve: Some people might say there’s a fine line between the two. Katie: Oh here he goes, getting all Captain Philosophical again...look, everyone knows we were suposedly the heroes Steve, and to be fair we saved the world a fair few times, we were even fighting in the shadows during the Nomad years.

Steve: I know, I know...

36. How many plates can you eat at a buffet?

Steve: You know I’ve never actually counted.

Katie: You did 20 at the last brunch we went to.

Steve: 20...that’s...impressive.

Katie: smirking Bucky did 22

Steve: sighs Of course he did...

37: Favorite dessert?

Steve: Apple pie, preferably Katie’s

Katie: Pecan pie. Hands down.

38 Would you rather watch a TV show or a movie?

Steve: Ooh, that’s..i suppose it depends. I do like a good TV series, especially if we can curl up and binge watch once the kids are going to bed but I do have fond memories of us working through the films on my list...

Katie: smiling, yeah we had a lot of fun. Still

39. What’s your favorite compliment to give?

Steve: I love telling Katie how beautiful she is, and what a wonderful mother she is...all of which is true.

Katie: I like to remind Steve that he’s my Steve Rogers, not Captain America...because he is. And he’s the most amazing man on the planet, with or withouth that serum coursing through his veins. Which is what makes him the best dad the kids could wish for.

40. What’s the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to you?

Steve: smiling, she’s sat right next to me.

Katie: smiling , back at ya soldier.

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers x original female character #katie stark

40 notes · View notes

writingsofmyimagination · 5 years ago

Text

With Custard

Gif is mine :)

This Fic was written for the @bangtansmutcentral & @ksmutclub Made With Love Project.

My partner was @mind-of-a-hardstan and I chose to write the next part to her fic Apple Pie A Hobi post break up AU - Which I loved.

I hope you enjoy my additon!

Pairing: Hobi x Reader

Genre/Rating: Post Break Up Au/18+

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (light BDSM themes) & A Perfect way to use some food.

Sooo here goes…

Saturday rolled around way quicker than you’d liked. The eggs and custard weighed down your basket like the nerves sedimenting at the bottom of your stomach. Layers and layers of thoughts, questions upon questions & doubts over doubts

How can it be different?

Will he give you more of his time?

Can you do this again?

What was it he wasn’t telling you?

You left his ass because you rarely saw him, he was always working. The relationship, if you could even call it that, wasn’t there. You loved how dedicated and passionate he was to his dancing and singing but something changed. You’d become good friends with all of his bandmates; Jimin and Yoongi more so. Hoseok was always busy this wasn’t new; his schedule was gruelling but the last month or so before you split, he’d also become distant. Leaving you feeling like you weren’t even worth rushing home for after practice anymore. The way his words rolled down your spine two days ago.

“I’ve missed you”

Each syllable laced with sadness as it trickled down each of your vertebrae. You’d missed him too. He could have persuaded you to stay, quite easily if you were honest. You just wanted to see some fight from him.

Your insides were coiled in tight knots. Even though you had a key you knocked on his apartment door; it wasn’t your place to just walk into anymore.

Do I look okay?

Should I have put more effort in?

Jesus Y/N it’s 9am on a Saturday, you look fine

Your white strap top was tucked snug into high waisted denim skinny jeans; A black blazer shrouded your shoulders from the morning nippy breeze that battered you on the short walk from your car.

You heard ruffled hurried feet at the door before it clicked open. His shoulders immediately dropping as the relief oozed out of them.

“Hey”

He stepped back welcoming you in to what used to be one of your favourite places; home. It was unchanged. Neatly arranged furniture hardly filling the expansive space. The sun was still rising over the blocky Seoul skyline; the lounge chair you’d pushed to view the sunrises was still facing out of the long glass windows. Sometimes he’d curl up with you under the fleece blanket.

“After you left, I sat in that chair all night and watched the sky until I had to leave for practice”

“Hobi I… don’t know what to say” The shopping bag gently clattered on the marble side before you turned to face him. He swept himself into you, his face buried into your neck, arms scooped under yours and secured behind you. Your hands locked to the back of his neck, fingers stroking the soft currently brown tinted hair before you’d even registered your response. God, you’d missed him closed to you

why does he have to smell so good?.

The softness of his skin and the fragrance of coconut that lingered from his morning shower.

“I missed you” he muttered into your skin

“I missed you too” your head resting on his. How were you even going to talk about everything, you were speechless. Could you just not pretend all of this never happened?.

“Come on, let’s just make the apple pie and we’ll talk then okay?” You pulled up his chin to be met with glistened over puppy dog eyes. He nodded and offered you a sweet smile.

“You’re actually going to trust me to help?” he queried getting out the ingredients you’d asked him for.

“Well partly, you’ll just have to do what I tell you… for a change” You toyed. You really shouldn’t have, now was not the time for flirting. The way his lips curved up at the sides and the way his eyes shone told you he didn’t object. You both had a small chuckle relaxing even further naturally into each other’s company.

“Can I trust you to peel the skin of the apples and cut them into chunks?” You clicked the oven on to preheat, gas mark 6.

“I’ve got this” he told more to himself than you.

“Right I’ll handle the rest”

While he’d been focused on the apples your eyes had to fight to stay on what you were doing. His washed-out denim jeans, exposing far too much skin through the multiple rips effortlessly dragged your mind elsewhere.

Jesus, am I that frustrated that just a few jean rips have me spiralling?

Apparently, that answer was yes; it always was especially when It came to his thighs.

If he’d caught you oogling he certainly didn’t’ say. You were courteous in kind suppressing all smirks when his eyes wandered over to you when your blazer left your shoulders. Hobi though unlike you could not be as subtle. His hand would brush against yours while he was leaning to grab something, or he’d move you to the side slightly by way of his hand on your hip.

“I guess I’ll have to write this down for your mum won’t I” your hands wrapping round the towel drying them off, leaning against the work top.

“She will love you forever”

“Think she’ll trade for her Bakewell tart recipe?”

“Definitely! How long’s it’s going to be?”

“Just under an hour”

“Wanna talk now?” you offered

“Nope” he breathed pushing into you shoving you hard against the work top; hands either side of your face. One leg pushed in between your thighs. Your breathe was lost, caught in lips which were starved of you; and you didn’t half feel it. Your grip at his wrists loosened instead balling your fists round his white shirt at his waist. The pair of you finally needed to come up for air. His forehead flush to yours while your chests rose and fell together trying to contain the frantically beating hearts beneath them.

His hair had fallen over his face shielding his eyes, one hand had slipped and rested on your chest the other his fingers were slightly curled into your hips, bracing, holding himself back.

“We should really talk first” you panted with very little conviction. Hands still balled round his shirt; consciously restraining yourself from grinding on his thigh.

“Just let me make you feel good” His head nudged yours to the side kissed your neck exactly where he knows your weak. He felt the caught moan in your throat.

“Just let me love you…please!” Normally you’re the one whining for him, his eyes were crying out for you. Pleading. Hands shoved him back. In the split second the smirk from his face dissipated, until you hurriedly yanked your shirt over your head launching it the same place as all your rational thoughts; where you didn’t care!

You yanked him by his belt loop back to you, the elated smile back to full volume, the kitten that got the creamiest milk He tapped at the side of your thigh. Up!.

Legs wrapped round his waist, he stabilised your weight assisted by the worktop before setting you down on the dining table which was at an easier level. You’d many times been reminded it was the perfect height the amount of times Hobi had fucked you on or bent over it. Your arms held at his neck tight while his hands unhooked your jeans and yanked them past your behind in a gust. One strong kiss at your lips had you chasing his lips as he removed all contact.

“Where are you going?”

He didn’t need to respond, the jug of custard in his hand said it all.

“It’s cold”

“Even better, underwear off princess!” It wasn’t a suggestion.

“Your shirt first” You bargained feeling brave; pout heavy on your lips.

“You’re lucky I’ve got making up to do otherwise you’d easily earn yourself a spanking for that”

He legs rested in between yours placing the jug behind you, tantalising licking the spoon clean which hung in his mouth. He obliged your request shedding his shirt off in a fluid motion. You could easily lose your way adrift the defined lines stretching across his olive skin. The way his jeans sat snug on his hips, the v line where his lower abs and obliques met were always candy to your eyes. He knew it too. He knew the way his hips swayed captivated every cell in you. Only god himself could help you when you saw him practice; surprisingly not he always invited you.

His finger tipped your chin up, hair ruffled, messy over his forehead framing the man you were so incapable of resisting. Your head obedient in following his hand, his lips fusing with yours; heavy and needy. Your hands unclipped your bra, straps ghosting your flushed skin as it slid down to the floor.

“Well this is new” he purred eyeing the silver ring now running through your nipple. His hand teasing down your neck and chest to investigate. The cool fingertips gliding across the skin underneath your chest heaved out with a heavy inhale

“Is it more sensitive?” He didn’t need the answer, he was going to find out regardless. Your eyes begged him ‘why don’t you find out’ as did the bottom lip being toyed with your teeth.

He was not one to be teased. The hand tracing was now gripping firm, holding you breast secure for his tongue to lavish. Nails on his shoulders, your audible inhale and the broken moan caught in your throat. He heard it all, giving him his answer.

“You never used to make that much of a fuss, so that’s a yes!” he deduced, pleased. Your core was beginning to ache, yearning for any contact and he’d hardly touched you. Using his shoulders as an anchor you pulled yourself closer to him arching your chest into him.

“Is my girl getting needy?” Hobi cooed slick with satiation.

“Mmmhmm…” was all you managed his lips catching any coherent words.

“Close your eyes, don’t open them otherwise you get nothing” Pouting, arms folded. You waited for whatever Hobi had left you to get. Without the heat of him around you the air cooled, goose bumps eliciting from your touch deprived skin. You were still using all your concentrated hearing to sense even the slightest sound. The familiar click of the bedroom door tainted the silence, every few steps you heard your pulse raced just that bit faster.

“Keep them closed” he reminded approaching you stealing the urge for you to open then. Even the silk now covering your eyes smelt like him. The scent was too strong for it to be natural; he’d sprayed it with your favourite aftershave of his. He watched you appreciate his choice.

“Hook your legs round loosely princess”

“…Hobi..” you breathed more in frustration than a plea as his fingers ghosted your core, barely making contact. Enough for him to feel how desperate you were for him; not enough for you to refrain from whining, bottom lip conveying your dismay. You pouted for too long. His teeth soon lightly clamped down softly. He nudged your legs up higher on his waist causing your hips to tilt.

“Fuck!” you cried nails digging harshly at his scapula, swallowing just as hard.

“Nice?” his almost whispered voice trickled down your ear, his breath running wild fire down your neck.

“Mmm” you hummed. A xmas gift from hobi; 2 kegal balls coated in purple silicon building the shape of a peanut now pushed snug inside you. A click emanated from a silicon tail before the vibrations started.

Shimmying out of your grip he swept the jug back into his hands. Your neck, the valley in between your breast, your pierced nipple, just above your naval. Your blood raced under the cold drips of the custard. Your thigh…your….

“6 areas, 6 places I want my mark. Call out the numbers baby” You rolled in the memory of the way his teeth would pinch and suck at your skin leaving blooming blotches of red to remind you of those nights

“5”

Teasing fingers traced the outline of the pools of custard. His hair tickling your sides, his tongue swirling the custard from your stomach, lips sealing on your skin above your Naval. Thighs tightening around his waist, his lips sucking the blooming red petals of blood vessels to the surface. You envisioned Hobi nearly on his knees, lips on your skin, hair covering his face in a coffee mess.

“Please let me see you” you whined. The dull vibrations of the balls were aching; only serving to increase the itch growing stronger inside you against your walls.

“Not yet princess, next number?”

“3” Hoping this would be the number to bring you relief. It wasn’t, just more torture. Hobi was going to make sure he used your new piercing as much for your benefit as his. The warm tongue on the cool metal of the bar, the disappearing coolness of the custard. The harsh bite of his teeth

“Are you making this order up?”

“The order is what I say it is baby” he purred onto your skin pressing open mouth kisses up your body until his lips tangled with yours.

“2” you whispered onto his breath. He dropped through your legs, tongue lapping at the custard from your inner thigh. His bite was much harsher on the meatier flesh, hissing through your teeth. One hand clamping down on a hand that was digging hard into your outer thigh. The pinching of your flesh ravaged your nerve endings; increasing the throb at your bundle of nerves.

One firm lick of his tongue up your sternum left only one number.

“1”

“Mmm” he hummed, dropping to his knees.

“Oh baby you’re glistening!” Lustful voice saturated with absolute approval.

“Now do I take my present out or leave it in?”

Your response was lost in a choke. The last strip of custard, had become a chimera with your arousal.

“God I’ve missed you, you taste so damn sweet” he panted in between your thighs.

“I think we can leave this now; I think you’d much prefer me inside yes?

The whine in agreeance as he left you feeling empty. Not for long. His fingers were quickly pressed to the velvet wall with the same pressure as his tongue was pressed flat to your clit. The whirlpool motion of the warm muscle had you fighting to control your breathing, head thrown back. Hand tight in his hair attempting to regain again type of stability. The strong come hither with his fingers had the pit of your stomach in your coils tight building up the pressure driving you into space.

“Want to cum yet?” The sweet devil asked denying your fall off the edge for the third time. His chest now flush to yours. Lips at your ear, fingers stilled inside you, palm pressed at your clit.

“Tell me how much how much you want it baby” You were more than happy to stroke his ego

“So…much” you were desperate

“Pleaasse” pleading on the brink.

In the midst of your moan the egg timer started ringing through the kitchen.

“Well you better cum then don’t want the pie to burn” You barely needed anything, the pressure tapping at your clit while his fingers were thrusting back in and out.

Your nails left red crescents printed on his skin.

“I love it when you fall apart” Purposely his palm stayed pressed against you prolonging the aftershocks.

“I’ll get the pie” The blindfold quickly discarded on the floor.

“I want you on all fours on the bed for me” It was an order.

The fresh breezy scent of the cotton sheets pressed to your cheek. A heavy hand pressing your neck leaving your ass up.

“I never got tired of how beautiful you look like this” His hand tracing down your spine to squeeze your ass before smacking his palm off it.

“Think you can cum for me again around my cock?” He used your arousal coating himself, brushing your clit sending more aftershocks through you.

“Think you should make sure I do” you challenged.

The ‘making love’ had fully disintegrated. He fucked you like it was the last thing he’d do on this planet. Your hips feeling the sweet bruising under his grip. You were panting half into the mattress until your hair was yanked back; moans flooding into the room.

“Please Hobi” you begged when he stilled inside you. He didn’t respond only to shove you on your back. He’d refused himself his favourite position.

“It’s been too long I wanna see your face when you come undone” he shoved your legs round his waist tightening them. Arms pinned above your head, held captive under one his hands; the other had his weight spread through his hand at the top of your chest. It drove you insane and had you clenching around him when he wasn’t being an asshole and pulling out frustrating slowly. You swore at him a lot, fully taking advantage of the lack of rules that he’d normally set

“I forgot how bratty you can be…without punishments…or a gag” He panted, hips snapping into you harder yet more infrequent.

“So you better cry my name out, wanna cum princess?”

“Fucking hell yes” the end of your words ended up being muffled by the handful of sheet you’d shoved over your mouth. He’d been keeping you on edge, teasing every last frustrated gasp, every last moan from your lips. Slowing down exactly when you needed him not to.

“let go”

“Are we actually going to talk now? And I’m absolutely starving, you went to roll out of bed. You were met with resistance in the form of Hobi climbing on top of you.

“I supposed we should. Apple Pie with custard coming up.”

“It was painful how much I missed you” Hobi admitted in between mouthfuls.

“I was right there at home Hobi” He sat up, slid the bowl on the bedside table looking at you with bloomed pupils, shining yet shying away to his hands which encased yours.

“You were right, I was away a lot more than my already usualness. And I was doing it on purpose”

It was a burn that scolded you, searing sadness across your heart. The thought of Hobi purposely staying away, the thought he didn’t love or want to see you dragged the colour from your face. You pulled away and joined him sitting. His eyes brows grey further apart, eyes widening pulled open by sheer panic.

“Hey” the cushioning soft tone of his voice, a cold compress on the burn. Forcing your hand up to his cheek.

“But not because I wanted to be away or I didn’t want you” He rushed.

“It’s just…” He sighed, shoulders dragged down in the secret he didn’t want to share.

“Yoongi is pretty in love with you and it was just becoming really hard to see the pain on his face”

Your brain could not compute the indecipherable code being spoken to you

“He… I mean I don’t think he realised I knew, I heard tears from him talking to Joon. He said it just kinda happened. I mean you can’t help that sort of thing but he was just hurting. From then I noticed more and more his eyes when I’d leave, him knowing I was coming home to you.”

You barely realised you’d stop breathing.

“Oh…I…I don’t know what to say” Mind wiped, completely.

“I didn’t know how tell you, it wasn’t my place. I guess I just kinda hoped you’d let the extra time away slide. I… I’m sorry, I never meant for you to feel so unimportant to me. You mean literally everything to me. I love you boo and I was so miserable without you in my life. Please forgive me”

“Will it be any different? I mean can you cope with Yoongi’s…”

“My schedule is still nuts…”

“I don’t mean your schedule dummy. You know I support absolutely everything you’re doing”

“Yeah, Yoongi’s fine now, and even if he still had feelings for you I can’t stay away from you”

You’d never heard Hobi sound so resolute about anything apart from how much he loves sprite.

“Please move back in. The fact I don’t get to curl up into you when I come home kills me”

Hope you enjoyed ready :)

#smutcentralnet #ksmutclub #mwlproject #bts smut #btswriterscollective #jhope #Jung HoSeok #bts #btssmut #bts x reader

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bang-to-the-tan · 5 years ago

Text

Vessel Euphoria Chapter 6

► SciFi!AU

Thriller

Warnings: Major Character Death, Mind Control, Upsetting Themes Throughout, Alien Parasitism

↳ Summary: 6 months ago, the crew of the space vessel “Euphoria”—destined for a scientific study on a distant planet—dropped out of all communication. You and your fellow crewmates are inbound to reestablish communication with home base, but things are not as they seem and the fate of the mission is placed in grave danger.

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“Good to see you Jungkook.”

No reply.

‘There’s two things it could be. One is sabotage.’

‘What do you mean? That’s all it points to. Someone was stopping messages to Earth. With all due respect, that is sabotage, sir.’

‘Not necessarily.’

“Good to see you awake. You were out for a little while.”

‘There’s an officer’s recall. He holds back the messages for a short time. Reviews them, sends through what he feels is pertinent, as well as his official statement.’

‘What?’ You blink at your comms, taken aback. For a moment, you even forget your decorum. ‘...Are you sure this is a real thing? Hoseok, I’ve never heard of it.’

‘It’s to keep crew members from sending command differing stories in times of moral crisis. It can only be used in one circumstance. Enlisted personnel usually aren’t told.’

‘What circumstance?’

“But none of your vitals look like they’re doing any worse for it. From what the room monitors.”

‘Don’t tell the others yet. Especially Jimin. I’ll talk to him later about it.’

‘What circumstance, Officer?’

‘There’s no point in concerning anyone unnecessarily before we actually talk to Namjoon. None of this means anything without his statement.’

‘For christ’s sake, in what circumstance would one need to use this recall??’

“Jungkook? Are you listening?”

‘The death of a crew member.’

The man in front of you stares at the table, brow slightly furrowed, lips set in a straight line, as though deep in some kind of existential thought. He hasn’t brushed his hair. It lays scraggly and untamed across his cheeks and over his eyes in places where he hasn’t even bothered to push it out of his face. The pajama t-shirt he’s wearing is threatening to turn grubby in places, indicating that he didn’t have as restful a sleep as you might have hoped. A beat passes. Two. The electrical lights above you hum, shedding too-bright light across the containment area, reflecting off the one-way glass behind you, casting the only shadows in the room off the unmade bed in the corner. Finally, he nods jerkily, blinking in rapid succession.

“Good. Good, I’m glad.” You continue, doing your best to keep your tone reassuring without being condescending. “How are you feeling?”

He doesn’t reply, but his eyes cast about the metal worktop, seeking his answer. He’s having a hard time articulating, paying attention to the world around him—and you can’t say you blame him. Who knows how long he’s been alone for? You doubt even he does. He’s looking for the right words in the cold surface in front of him, just as much as he’s looking for an escape from your eyes. You wish you could afford him that privacy. But there’s too much that needs answered for. You have to try.

“I have to ask you some questions, Jungkook.” He nods again, the motion barely more than a twitch. Though his hands are clasped in his lap, you can see their occasional fidgeting from the way his shoulders shift. “I know you aren’t feeling up to much. I just need honesty. Can you do that for me?”

He sniffs. Nods again.

“Good. Now, you know that Jimin and I found you in the secondary. Why—”

“Jimin.” He repeats suddenly, his voice a croak, and his own shock propels his doe eyes upwards to meet yours, seemingly of their own volition. You have a half second where yours meet before he casts them violently back to their original position. “Park Jimin.”

“...have you heard that name before, Jungkook?”

He bobs now, shoulders scooting upwards in a self-soothing motion, rubbing with his wide palm absently. “Good guy. Nice guy. I—he’s the best... Second best in his class. Very good. Really…” he wipes at his face, his attention drifting elsewhere, going slack. “Really good.”

“Second best in his class.” you echo, relieved to finally be getting some traction. “Right after Kim Taehyung, your crewmate.”

“Tied.” A ghost of a smile picks up one edge of Jungkook’s lips, quirking it with a wry air. You can almost imagine what he used to smile like. “They...they were tied for scores. T-Tae, Taehyung had more community hours. Said Jimin couldn’t stand it. Second is second, but...He always, always said they were tied.”

You’re unnerved slightly by the way he refers to Taehyung in the past tense, but you nod in understanding. “Sounds like Jimin.”

He parrots the motion.

“You scared us, you know. When you jumped him.”

There’s a point in empty space that has him sucked in like a vortex, drains him, takes all his attention. Somewhere to your right, just past your elbow, exists all the mysteries of the world, according to Jungkook. He stares obligingly at it, rubbing at his cheek where Jimin had punched him.

“...I don’t remember that.” he replies finally, unsure.

“You don’t remember living in the secondary station?”

“I remember...parts.”

“Which parts?”

“Bad ones.”

His voice has quieted to a harsh murmur. If you’re not careful, you’ll lose him to whatever trauma he’s sitting on top of. You change topics.

“I went through the files on the camera while you were sleeping.” You say, pulling the camera up from your side of the table and sliding it over his direction. Immediately, he snatches for it, long fingers curling around it in a feverish protectiveness, tugging to cradle it to his chest. He looks down at it in confusion, like he’s puzzled as to how it got into his arms.

“You weren’t using this camera for research, and you weren’t using it for auxiliary reports.”

He looks up again, eyes wide, brows creased in worry. “Don’t report them. Don’t—it wasn’t, it was just—”

“I’m not going to report anyone, Jungkook,” you reassure him gently. This time, he maintains eye contact, flitting from one side of your face to the other like a concerned hummingbird. “That’s not what I’m here for.” You take a breath, give him a pause to catch up. “The Vessel Euphoria stopped communicating in June. So, Central sent the Vessel Epiphany out here to reestablish contact. That’s us. That’s now.”

Confusion again slinks across his face. He waits for you to elaborate, and grows visibly agitated when you don’t.

“Do you know what happened?”

“It can’t be—” he mutters. “You can’t...what, when is it? What is today?”

“The tenth of December, Jungkook. It’s been six months—”

“—no, that’s not...that isn’t—”

“—since my crew departed for ORUL-82—”

“—you can’t be—”

“—and we landed here this morning.”

“You can’t be here.” He insists. He’s agitated, shifting forward in his chair, watching you carefully for some undefinable sign, shaking his head when you go to speak again.

“Why were you at secondary, Jungkook?”

“You can’t be here. You shouldn’t be here.”

“What happened to communications?”

“How could you be here? They sent you up? They can’t have sent you up. He—”

“Where is the crew of the Vessel Euphoria?”

He suddenly shoots up onto unsteady feet, knocking into the table and swaying backwards, the camera still clutched to his torso. His eyes are spinning now, shock and anger beginning to turn his breathing hard, twisting his youthful face into horror. It’s your turn to be confused as you watch him flail, looking about the room like he’s searching for the exit. Before you can think, you’re standing, slow, hands held out placatingly.

“Jungkook…” you begin, warning. “I need you to calm down.”

“Why are you here ?” he says, volume raising. “You shouldn’t be here!”

“Central command sent us because we couldn’t communicate with the Vessel Euphoria, Jungkook. Do you know what happened?” you reiterate, trying to be firm without being threatening, but there’s some train of thought that’s derailed itself in his mind, catapulted him into fear and upset. He’s angry, why is he angry?...

“Six months? No, no, no, that’s not...it wasn’t supposed to...but the...” he repeats, horrified, casting another panicked look about the room. “It’s broken , oh my god, it’s broken, oh, no—”

“Jungkook—” You take another step.

“Did you smell it?” he shrieks suddenly. “Did you smell it? Did you breathe it? Do you know what that is??” He sobs, curling forward, and you can hear his breaths turning into gulps as he launches into a full panic attack.

You’re skirting the table, reaching for him, mentally bracing yourself for having to sedate him by force, possibly pulling in Jimin or Hoseok. Your gripping your communicator steadying already, instinct poised to call for backup. But you want to give him more time. You want to give yourself more time. There’s meaning here, you just can’t understand it, and the more you can glean, the closer you’ll get to the truth.

“Okay, okay, Jungkook, I’m sorry,” you soothe, holding out a hand, “Okay, we're going to take deep breaths now—”

He jerks away from you so violently that he throws himself to the floor. He watches you, deranged, through the strands of his hair, as he struggles backwards.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me,” he repeats in a feral, demanding shout that bares his teeth. “Do you know what it is?? Did you smell it??”

“No, Jungkook.” You freeze obligingly, stopping your motion forward, eyeing him carefully. “No, I’m afraid I don't know what you’re talking about.”

He breaks as he stares you down, shaking. Tears spring to his eyes, and coast down his cheeks, leaving sticky trails against his skin. He curls his legs inward, still cradling the camera, and tucks his head into it. You can see his entire body shivering.

“It’s rot, it’s rot .” he whimpers. “It’s all rotten.”

“What happened, Jungkook?”

“It’s my fault.”

Your blood runs ice-cold. “...What do you mean by that?’

“It’s all broken. It’s all broken. No one’s going home. Stuck. Trapped.”

“Jungkook,” you repeat. Your fingers itch with the desire to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. “Jungkook, where is the crew of the Vessel Euphoria?”

“I’m sorry,” he wails, sobbing wretchedly into his quaking arms. “I’m so sorry! I had to! I’m sorry!”

You reach forward once again, jaw agape at his words, but before you can make contact, he’s tearing backwards, scrabbling, legs akimbo, thrashing like a frightened animal up and away from you, hiccuping panicked breaths as he races towards the door. You finally make that split decision and press the button on the communicator just as he’s trying to curl his fingers into the seams, pull it open by force.

“Jimin! I need help and sedatives in the quarantine room.”

Jimin swears sharply down the line, and you can hear him kicking into a run, his boots squeaking against the grates. “On my way.”

“Jungkook,” you try one more time to call out to him, anchor him closer to reality, as he scrapes and claws at the door feverishly with both hands, pressing his body against it to keep the camera close to himself. “I’m sorry to have pushed this far. I should have known better…”

“I just need to talk to Namjoon,” he mutters, hissing. “I just need to talk to Namjoon, I just need to talk to Namjoon.”

“Jungkook, please. Just as soon as we get in touch with Officer Kim, we’ll all have a sit-down and a discussion about what’s happened. For now, you have to calm down. Do you understand? Jungkook?”

“Everything’s fine, Taehyung!” He whirls around to face you, fear and panic written all over his face, fingers still digging into the doorframe. “I need to talk to the captain! He’ll know what to do!” He snatches his own hands from the door, embedding his fingers into his hair, clenching his teeth so hard that your own hurt. “He’ll—I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I had to!”

The door slides open and Jungkook stumbles forward with it, casting a surprised, deranged look at it. Jimin lunges, pulling Jungkook’s neck and shoulders into his arm in a restraining chokehold with one swift movement. Jungkook yelps, flailing, eyes wide with blind panic, but Jimin’s already fumbling with his other hand, cradling a syringe between his fingers, before jabbing it into the prominent vein running up his neck. The sound of pain that the taller man makes is not far enough removed from a feral shriek of something inhuman. You dash forward, grabbing at Jungkook’s elbows as he claws at Jimin’s forearm, both men huffing in exertion. Jimin’s face begins turning red with the effort of keeping him restrained, his gaze trained on the floor past the boy’s unruly mop. The syringe clatters when he drops it and the sound is strangely loud. Their feet scramble for purchase, kicking it to a remote corner, as Jimin redirects both their body weight to keep him under control.

“It’s okay, Jungkook,” you soothe, trying to pry his hands away. Your heart leaps into your throat at the way he blinks back tears of betrayal at you, corners of his mouth trembling. “It’ll be okay.”

“I had to,” he croaks. “I had to. I’m sorry.”

“I know,” you tell him. His legs tremble, his eyes fluttering. His shoulders start to go lax. He’s fighting against the sedative with a fortitude that worries you. “I know. I’m sure you did what you thought was best.”

“You didn’t give me a choice,” he continues, desperate, slurring. His tears are falling more steadily now, heartache creeping up into his voice. “Y-You didn’t. I tried.”

“I know you did.”

Jimin shifts to readjust his grip as Jungkook slowly stops being able to struggle. His knees sag. Both of you start to go down with him, melting as one unit towards the floor. His hand finally slips from Jimin’s arm to reach weakly for you, stretching fingers against the fatigue welling up in him. You hesitate, watching him sink forward drowsily with a wary eye.

“Please don’t...” he mumbles. “Please don’t...”

“It’s okay, Jungkook.” You help Jimin ease him to the floor more comfortably, too aware of the heat coming off him, the sweat. He’s a furnace, a miniature sun, blazing and slippery in your arms. His eyes drift closed, his mouth still open as he falls into nothing mid-reply.

There’s a silence between you and Jimin, as he gets his breath back and you fight back tears of your own.

“He called you Taehyung.” Jimin’s hoarse, rasping barely above a whisper. He sniffs, drawing one arm underneath his nose. When he speaks again, in the absence of your response, his voice cracks. “He called you Taehyung . And he kept apologizing.”

“...yeah.”

“I think Yoongi’s right.”

“We don’t know that. We don’t know anyth—”

“I think he hurt someone,” he snarls, but there’s a note underneath it that you understand is not anger. It’s not vengeance. It’s worry. Fear. “I think Namjoon put him in the middle of nowhere because he disrupted communications and hurt someone. I think he went crazy.”

“We can’t just accuse people, Jimin.” You slump, casting a glance to the pitiful creature on the floor. “He was fine up until I asked him about the communications gap. He was terrified by the thought that Command sent us up here.”

“So...so what happened? He cuts comms and then he what?”

“He didn’t...necessarily cut comms.” you interrupt quietly, recalling your brief conversation with Hoseok. Don’t tell Jimin yet . You don’t particularly want to do that anyways.

“And then he what , Specialist? What the fuck did he do? Why was he so far away from home base, and why was he alone ?”

“I don’t know!” Your sniffling is turning messy, the knot in your throat painful, making it hard to see, to think. Jungkook’s panic is catching, and with him out, you can feel the exhaustion setting in. “I don’t know what he did.”

There’s a weighted pause. It lays against your shoulders, your back, sinking devious claws into your chest as you try to pull yourself together.

“He did whatever he thought was best,” you say finally. “That’s all I know for sure.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Me neither.”

Jimin swallows so hard you can hear it and jolts upwards. He hesitates before hoisting less than gentle arms underneath Jungkook’s and lifting, visibly straining with the effort.

“Help me get him back on the bed,” he grumbles. “If he stays down here he’ll throw out his back.”

You hurry to assist him in moving Jungkook’s dead weight, wrapping your own arms about his torso. He’s thinner than you suspect he should be, but his body remembers being muscular and he’s denser than he looks. It takes both of you struggling for a full few minutes to finally, haphazardly, get him onto the cot, on top of the blankets and with his arms and legs hanging off the edge.

“I don’t want you going in here tomorrow,” Jimin says finally, grunting as he shifts his arms from out underneath Jungkook. He’s watching the younger boy like a hawk , as though he might shake off the sedative any moment and lunge for either of your throats. “While Hoseok and I are at primary. Not until we hear the whole story.”

You bristle a little, wiping at your eyes indignantly. “I don’t remember you being my superior officer.”

He throws you a genuinely surprised look. “That’s not what I mean. I just...I’m just worried. Alright? What if I’d been late this time?”

“I’m not convinced he’s dangerous,” you pause, then amend quietly, “I’m not convinced he’s dangerous on purpose.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“He…” You think of the expression Jungkook wore while he apologized to you. To Taehyung. “...I don’t know what would have happened.”

“Okay. Can you just, can you just do me one favor? You can communicate with him through the screen if you want to. Just...please don’t go in here unless someone is with you. Okay? I would say the same thing to Yoongi and Hoseok.” He adds quickly.

“You would have said those words to Jung Hoseok?”

“...I would have rephrased those words to Jung Hoseok.” Jimin doesn’t distract easily enough from his point. “Please? Just until we get back or comm over the situation. I’ll stand down completely once we have official statements. Right?”

You take a deep breath. As annoying as it might feel to be nannied, you know for a fact that Jimin rarely has anything but your best interests in mind. He’s had your back through so much and you’ve always come out of it relatively unscathed where you’ve listened to him. Knowing how concerned he is about Taehyung...the fact that Jungkook did attack him...and even this latest fiasco in what’s threatening to become a long line of mishaps, you’ll give him this much. It’s the least you can do.

“Okay. But I want to know everything the moment you step outside of Officer Kim’s room. The second the briefing is over. Before you talk to anyone else.”

“I promise. I’ll do that for you.”

“Good.” You sigh, throwing another look at the comatose boy. “...I feel bad. For him.”

“Yeah. We’ll see.” Jimin doesn’t sound convinced.

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#bts sci fi au #bts scifi au #bts thriller #bts fanfic #vessel euphoria

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slippinmickeys · 5 years ago

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Of the Eight Winds, Part 7

This is part seven in who knows how many from the prompt from @sunflowerseedsandscience : “Mulder is unhappily married when Scully is partnered with him, and while he doesn’t cheat (because sorry that’s not romantic), he falls for her so hard that he finally gets the courage to end the marriage and start fresh.”

Links to parts one, two, three, four, five and six.

When he repeated the words “I, Fox, take you, Dana” he made a face, and she couldn’t help but laugh. It was half nerves and half him and bubbled up from inside her. The officiant smiled at her indulgently, and Mulder repeated himself and again made a face, and again she laughed. This time she looked over her shoulder at her mother who was standing witness, giving her an “ honestly , Dana” look while simultaneously trying to hold a one-year-old Lily who did not want to be contained. Mulder repeated the vows one more time.

“I, Mulder, take you, Scully,” he said, changing the words to better suit them, and there was no funny face, and no laugh. There was only a rightness to it, which washed gently over her and settled her nerves.

When the officiant told Mulder he could kiss the bride, he leaned into her slowly, and then wrapped his arms around her tightly, lifting her feet up off the floor. There were whoops and hollers from the small congress of witnesses, one of which she knew for sure was Charlie, and another she suspected might actually be Skinner.

When they darted out to the car after the ceremony, they were pelted with sunflower seeds which Scully didn’t realize until Mulder picked one gently out of her hair and popped it into his mouth.

They didn’t have a reception, just a small dinner at an Alexandria restaurant.

Scully watched the way Doggett and Reyes sat, heads bent together at the other end of the table and nudged Mulder.

He put his arm around the back of her chair whispered in her ear.

“There’s just something about that office, Scully.”

They had both left the X-Files once Scully was pregnant enough not to be out in the field anymore. Scully transferred to her old teaching position at Quantico, and Mulder “retired,” opting to write books for a few years while he finished his PhD, later opening his own practice.

They consulted often with their replacements and Mulder felt like he spent just as much time at various FBI facilities as he did at home working.

When the Lone Gunmen were killed and buried at Arlington National Cemetery, Mulder stepped away, eventually deciding that his consulting days were over.

A couple of years later, after William was born, they received an “It’s a Boy!” congratulations card postmarked from Arlington, Virginia. It was blank, but for a monogram as a signature, which read simply “TLG.”

As a one-year wedding anniversary gift, Melissa Scully offered to take Lily off of their hands for a week if they promised to go somewhere warm and tropical. Mulder figured Scully had probably put her sister up to it -- or at the very least had her add the tropical addendum to her gift, but either way it was nice to get away from it all. He hadn’t slept in one day since becoming a father.

Melissa came to their door with a small suitcase and a giddy smile, eyes only for her niece. She was rewarded with a big, sticky hug.

Mulder already had their luggage loaded in the car, but Scully lingered in the doorway, she was having trouble saying goodbye.

“Scully, our flight is in exactly two hours and I know you like to get to the airport early,” he said. He would not go back inside himself or he’d have trouble leaving, too.

Finally, Scully gave Lily one last hug and said to her sister, “the terrible twos are a real thing, Missy. Call us if you need us.”

“We’ll be fine,” Melissa said, and ushered Scully outside, Lily perched on her hip. Then she called “I’m not offering when she’s a threenager!”

On their flight home, Mulder reached for Scully’s hand.

“I’m not spending that much money on a tropical vacation again, if we’re never going to leave the room.”

Scully wiped a finger down one side of her mouth and gave his lap a meaningful look.

“Worth it,” she said.

Mulder defended and received his PhD with little fanfare.

Scully made him a celebratory pie (sweet potato), and they sat down on their back porch to eat it with a bottle each of Shiner Bock once they had both kids down.

It was a beautiful spring night, a warm breeze wafting through the woods behind their house. Mulder could almost swear he could smell the cherry blossoms from the district.

He leaned back after finishing his slice in record time and let his fork clatter to his plate. He lifted the beer to his lips.

When he set the beer back down on the table, there was a small brown box wrapped in white ribbon sitting next to his empty plate. Scully smiled at him as she took a sip of her own.

When he opened it, he found the antique brass compass that had passed between them several times.

“Regifting, Scully?” he said to her, mirroring words she’d once said to him.

“Turn it over,” she lobbed back.

Above the old To finding our way... inscription, it now read “ To Dr. M.” He leaned over and gave her a lingering kiss.

When he sat back down and picked up his beer, she reached over with her own and clinked the necks of the bottles together.

“Doctor,” she said to him on a nod.

“Doctor,” he nodded back.

With their second child, Scully went into labor a month early. He’d been speaking at a conference in New York when an organizer pulled him aside as he was exiting the stage from his last panel and told him he had a phone call. It was Mrs. Scully, who sounded concerned but was trying to hide it. In the background he could hear a muffled TV and then a worried three-year-old “ Where’s daddy ?”

The train ride back to DC was torture. He was anxious, could barely sit still. He kept calling Mrs. Scully who said she didn’t know much -- they’d had to take Dana into a Labor & Delivery room and Lily was really bothered by the whole situation so she’d taken her home to her house. Melissa, who had planned to be Scully’s doula, was in San Diego with Bill.

Later, when he was holding the baby for the first time, Scully’s doctor came into the room. There had been some complications with the labor, but Scully hadn’t elaborated, and Mulder had been too elated to by the birth of his son to give it much thought.

The OB informed them that she didn’t think it was possible for Dana to have any more children.

While the doctor was going through the finer points of it, Scully reached out and squeezed his hand so hard it hurt. He could only hear the roaring of blood in his ears.

Scully thought “Crusher” was a ridiculous name for a cat. However, family tradition mandated that every pet be named after a female doctor and Will got naming rights on this one. He had recently gotten really into Star Trek .

The cat sat on the coffee table, as black and fluffy as her predecessor, but with a slightly more quarrelsome personality. Scully thought it was probably fitting being that their first born was about to be a freshly minted teenager.

Mulder came into the living room carrying an enormous bowl of popcorn with Lily on his heels, sulky as she plopped into an easy chair. Good grades had earned Will the Saturday evening activity of his choice and he’d opted for a family viewing of the first Lord of the Rings movie. No family member’s presence was optional and Lily loathed sci-fi/fantasy, much to Mulder’s dismay.

He set down the bowl, which Crusher nosed thoughtfully, and cut his eyes to his wife.

“Will’s in charge of the ice cream,” he said, his eyes widening with a look of slightly anxious amusement.

“Is that wise?” Scully asked.

“No,” said Lily quickly with no small amount of sass, earning her a sharp look from her mother.

Will came in then balancing four tubs of Ben & Jerry’s and several spoons. He paused when he reached the coffee table and gave Mulder a significant look.

“They come in pints,” he said with a British accent, which launched Mulder into an uncharacteristic fit of hysterics. Lily rolled her eyes. Scully wondered what was so funny.

Scully had had one of the longest days on record, and if she walked into a messy house one more time, she swore she would walk directly up to her bathroom, climb into a hot bathtub and not get out until morning.

When she got to their front door, she could barely open it for the load of hockey equipment in front it.

“That’s it,” she said to herself.

She would have followed her oath to the letter if she hadn’t tripped on a cat toy halfway through the kitchen. Mulder and the kids were all parked in various spots around the room.

“You okay?” Mulder asked her, barely looking up.

Her silence spoke volumes and eventually the three Mulders in the house were looking at her with a kind of low grade fear.

“Why,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady, “am I the only person in this house who cleans it?”

Will opened his mouth to say something, but Mulder put a hand on the boy’s arm.

“The mop has a handle, not an access code,” she said, giving them each a cold glare before heading up the stairs. “I will be in the tub,” were her parting words.

When she came down a couple hours later, wrapped in a silk bathrobe and a significantly better attitude, she found the house spic and span, a rumpled looking Mulder sitting quietly at the kitchen counter nursing a Coke.

“The house looks great,” she said, and he smiled at her.

“We’ve implemented a few extra columns on the chore chart,” he said, “and I have a row now, too.”

She reached for the Coke and he handed it over.

“Got you something,” he said, and nodded at a lone parcel sitting on the countertop.

When she unwrapped it she found a hastily made homemade sign, made from what she could tell was scrap lumber that had been sitting around the garage. Painted on it were three words in three different handwriting styles. It read “Bless This Mess.” They had all signed it.

She felt her eyes start to tear.

“It’s hideous,” she said, and Mulder laughed. “You can hang it over there,” she sniffed.

It would hang in their kitchen for the rest of their days.

Lily was 17 and was just getting over the nightmarish huffy know-it-all stage of the early teens. Mulder and William—who had just hit the gawky, all arms and legs stage of adolescence—were sitting at the dining room table, taking apart Mulder’s old VCR. It had stopped rewinding and they had a plan to watch Plan 9 From Outer Space that night. Mulder swore the movie was better on video, so William swore it too.

“We’re missing a screw,” Mulder said to his son, who was in charge of keeping the various component parts together on the table.

“We’re not, I handed them all to you,” Will said.

Lily came skidding into the kitchen, grabbing the edge of the doorway to keep her balance.

“Dad,” she said, her voice tremulous and shaky. Mulder was on his feet before she finished saying his name. “There’s something wrong with mom.”

Mulder tore up the steps, the thundering steps of his children right behind him and skidded to a halt in the door of the master bath. Scully was on the floor--he couldn’t tell whether or not she was conscious.

“I heard a thump and I came in here and she was like this,” said Lily, nearly in tears.

“It’s okay, Lil,” he said distractedly, reaching forward to feel for a pulse on Scully’s neck.

When his fingers met her flesh, she inhaled deeply, and tried to sit up.

“Mulder?” she said, her eyes flickering open “what… what happened?”

“Honey, you passed out,” he said, giving her a hand to sit up.

She looked pale, but glanced over his shoulder at the worried faces of their two kids and said, “I’m okay guys.”

She did a self-assessment and convinced a not-really-convinced Mulder that she was fine, with the caveat that she go to the doctor first thing the next morning, and when she walked into the house after her appointment, she looked shocked and was shaking.

Mulder walked over to her and tipped up her chin to connect eyes.

“Don’t make me guess,” he said quietly.

Her eyes shone and she gave him a tentative smile.

“I’m pregnant,” she said.

#the X-files #fanfic #msr #au #of the eight winds #my fic

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taww · 4 years ago

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First Take Review: Gryphon Essence Preamplifier & Stereo Amplifier

Okay, let’s get this out of the way: with a combined retail of over USD $40k (and that doesn’t include another $6k for the optional Zena DAC module), The Gryphon’s Essence preamplifier and stereo amplifier are by far the most expensive electronics I’ve ever had in my home! They might be the Danish firm’s entry point into separates, but that’s akin to calling a $146k Aston Martin Vantage “entry level.” There was a time in the not-so-distant past when spending such sums of money on stereo gear struck me as pointless excess. Perhaps I’ve been numbed by flipping through too many issues of The Absolute Sound or walking the halls of an audio show; perhaps I’m just entering a life stage (mid-life crisis, anyone?) where I’m allowing myself to indulge in such luxuries. Whatever the case may be, I’ve now had the good fortune of several months with the Essence combo, and despite a number of people prodding me for this review it’s been quite difficult to put into words how they perform. Why? Because every time I sit down to do the “work” of reviewing I just end up getting sucked into the music and forget to do the reviewing bit! But, here goes...

The arrival of the Gryphon components was a case of one thing leading to another. My first experience was when I strolled into Gryphon’s room at RMAF 2018. After being disappointed by so many other mega-buck systems at the show, I was delighted that this one actually sounded like music! Frankly, a lot of über-expensive show systems landed on my ears like amusical hi-fi effects or whimsical fancies of what some people think music should sound like, rather than an actual musical performance. Like other big systems, the Gryphon rig was imposing and fancy-looking, but with a decidedly purposeful, even stark, aesthetic. And the sound - so tangible and luscious, maybe a little dark and brooding, but in a way that connected me emotionally to the recorded performance rather than distracting me with sonic affect.

At the time I was happily running the Valvet A4 Mk.II monoblocks, and also had @mgd-taww’s Pass Labs XA30.5 at my disposal. Both delivered the pure and colorful musical flavors of Class A amplification, and both are superb amps. But things got thrown for a bit of a loop when I settled on the Audiovector SR 6 Avantgarde Arreté speakers as my new reference. I had auditioned them at AudioVision SF with the Gryphon Diablo 300 integrated amp ($16k) and the sound gave up nothing to high-quality separates - big, bold and dynamic with tremendous poise and nuance. Coming back to the Pass and Valvet amplifiers (coupled with a Pass Labs XP10 line stage) certainly wasn’t a let-down, but they didn’t have quite the same level synergy with the Audiovectors which sounded more complete and visceral with the Gryphon integrated.

This combined with the strong aural memories from the RMAF room led to a call to Gryphon’s US distributor, Philip O’Hanlon and Pandora Pang of On a Higher Note. Philip acknowledged that the Diablo was indeed excellent but teased that Gryphon had recently introduced a new line of separates worth consideration. The Essence had just arrived in the States and he had one more set in stock if I were so inclined... and next thing I know, a pallet loaded with what my wife lovingly referred to as “an illegal arms shipment” landed at our doorstep.

Serious crates for serious gear

Like all separates in The Gryphon’s 35-year heritage dating back to the original DM100 amplifier, the Essence line features pure Class A operation with minimal negative feedback, but brings it at a lower price point ($22,990) with more conservative aesthetics and practical packaging. Prior to the Essence, to get a Gryphon amp one had to shell out anywhere from $39k for the Antileon EVO to $57k for the flagship Mephisto (double those if going for monoblocks). The tradeoff is a lower power rating - just 50wpc, albeit in pure class A and doubling into 4 ohms and again into 2 ohms - so you’ll want to pair it with a reasonably efficient speaker. The Essence preamp meanwhile is a repackaging of the Zena preamplifier launched in 2018 (also $17,500), reskinned with cosmetics to match the amp. It features fully balanced operation via a discrete DC-coupled Class A circuit with zero global negative feedback, and can accommodate either of two optional internal modules, the Zena DAC ($6,000) or an MM/MC phono stage ($2,250). Being strictly digital I opted to evaluate the DAC, which I’ll talk about in a later installment. I’ll also save more details about the design and operation of this beautifully-crafted gear, including Gryphon’s unique Green Bias system, for a more in-depth review. For now, let’s get down to the business of how it sounds...

The Essence Preamp

When the Essence components arrived I clearly needed my wife’s assistance to safely unpack and set up the 45kg/99lb Essence amp. But she was busy making reeds for her oboe that evening, so I initially made do setting up the preamp (it weighs in at “only” 13.4kg/29.5lbs) and comparing it to my Pass Labs XP10 with the Pass Labs XA30.5 amplifier.

Firing up the Essence preamp from a cold start was one of those “damn, I don’t understand how a preamp can make this much of a difference” moments. Even though the Pass XP10 is a very solid performer - I find the sound of my PS Audio DirectStream significantly improved by it vs. feeding an amplifier directly - the 3x-as-expensive Gryphon outclassed it from the first note, taking musical resolution from the micro to nano level.

The first thing I noticed was how the entire back of the stage opened up. I never realized how triangular it sounded before, becoming narrower as you went deeper. With the Essence it suddenly feels rectangular and whole, with winds, brass and percussion able to naturally spread out and breath on the stage. It didn’t even take a big orchestral recording to experience this - my very first track was an intimate vocal with piano accompaniment, soprano Elsa Dreisig singing Strauss songs with pianist Jonathan Ware (Qobuz). The sense of the space - a church, as you can see from this video - and where the performers occupied it became strikingly tangible. Piano has starting clarity, with all its complex overtones unfolded and laid out for your ear to sample at its leisure. Dynamic resolution is also unlocked - subtle gradations in vocal intensity flow so organically. Going back to the Pass pre, macro dynamics weren’t Iacking, but the transitions somehow came across more synthetically, as if the volume dial was being turned rather than the performers modulating their instruments in the original performance.

One thing that didn't change too much was overall tonal balance. I find the Pass pretty neutral and extended, if anything having a subtly warmish character to it, at least by solid state standards. The Gryphon doesn't deviate notably from that, leaning slightly in that direction though with more sophisticated and varied tonal richness and density. The quality of the frequency extremes, however, is a different matter. Most striking is how triangles sparkle and ring with startling presence on the Gryphon. With a claimed frequency response out to 1MHz, the Essence pre delivers the highest highs with a sense of ease and finesse. And the bass is everything people have come to expect from the Gryphon house sound - deep, taut and powerful with beautiful tonality. The Pass Labs wasn’t missing any of the music per se, but the deepest bass notes and highest overtones sounded constrained vs. the effortless and wide-open delivery of the Essence.

So, yeah - a preamplifier that costs 3x as much as the Pass XP10 sounds clearly superior. Not much of a news flash, and a much fairer comparison in the Pass lineup would be the XP32 ($17,500) or at least an XP22 ($9,500). But what took me aback was how a preamplifier like the Essence could bring out so much life and nuance that was being curtailed by an otherwise fine piece like the Pass. The net effect was to make the musical performance feel significantly more tangible, visceral and unclouded - something that even the change of a DAC or amplifier doesn’t consistently achieve. The Gryphon Essence pre is simply an incredible conveyor of the musical signal.

And we haven’t even tried the amplifier yet...

The Essence Amplifier

Once I got my wife to assist in positioning the hefty Essence amp in the cabinet (safety first!), I hooked up the Audiovectors via my usual Audience Au24 SX cables and powered up the Gryphon using the stock power cord (the amp requires a 20A IEC connector, so standard cords won’t work). I played a bit with the Green Bias settings but obviously settled with it in red-hot Class A operation for serious listening. And while the amp has since benefited from multiple months of break-in, it was apparent from its first notes that the Essence had resolution, clarity, dynamics and tonal completeness on an altogether different level from any amp I’ve experienced in my system. But there was something else remarkable about its presentation that’s taken me many months to put my finger on, and I think I might be finally getting it.

The Essence amp has a very special ability to deliver the leading edge of a sound with incredible speed, precision and clarity. I’ve heard amps with fast leading edges (some attribute this to high slew rate), I’ve heard amps with very clean ones (lack of distortion and ringing). The Essence delivers a combination of fast and clean that is truly exceptional, and perhaps close to the state of the art. Every impulse and note attack hits you with perfect timing and delineation, then decay with similarly impeccable control. By comparison, amps like the Pass Labs that struck me as very pure have a bit of fuzz to them. Ever listen to an AM radio station when the signal gets weak, and all the starts and stops of sounds get staticky and fuzzy? There was a bit of that feeling going back to other amps in my system... no, they weren’t literally fuzzy and distorted. It’s just that the Essence amp sounds exceptionally lithe and clean, removing an extremely subtle layer of distortion that became difficult to un-hear in other amplifiers.

Coming from the Pass XA30.5, the Essence’s midrange was less overtly warm but even more substantive in tone. The Pass is certainly on the warm and lush side for a solid state amp, but past Gryphons I’ve heard had their own dose of chocolatey richness, so I was initially surprised by the balance of the Essence. It has the midrange density and lush tonal colors I was expecting from a Class A Gryphon amp, and yet it also sounds close to dead neutral in character. There’s a crystalline transparency that makes everything else sound a bit cloudy by comparison. Class A amps usually get the tonal part right, but can sound a bit sluggish or rounded dynamically; Class AB amps often have great transient speed but with some roughness around the edges and a bit of tonal hollowness. The Essence backs its exceedingly snappy and clean transients with real tonal substance and an infinite palette of realistic tonal colors. It can simultaneously preserve the gravitas of a string bass ostinato, the glowing warmth of a French horn, the delicate nasality of an oboe and the ethereal lightness of a flute all in balance. Orchestral recordings have never sounded this vivid and realistic in my home.

An interesting display of the amp’s prowess was in violinist Hilary Hahn’s recording of the Vieuxtemps Violin Concerto (Qobuz). The album also contains Mozart’s popular “Turkish” concerto which probably gets most of the plays; the Vieuxtemps is infrequently performed and mostly known by violinists as a sort of advanced student concerto (yes, my teacher made me study it). Vieuxtemps was a Belgian virtuoso of the romantic era and while the concerto has its charms, its orchestration is rather clunky. This actually made for a fascinating sonic experience in the concerto’s orchestral exposition, where different instruments pass melodic fragments back and forth in somewhat disjointed fashion rather than the more cohesive harmonization and counterpoint you’d get from a German master. A flute here, a clarinet there, a timpani roll or violin flourish coming and passing - the Essence conveyed each one with striking clarity and trueness of timbre and dynamics, arranging all the instruments across the stage in perfect proportion. So much of the feel of an instrument lies not just in its tonal makeup but the shape and feel of its notes - the reedy breathiness of a clarinet, the ringing “bong” of a timpani, the firm attack of a trumpet, the brush stroke of a violin. This is where the Essence’s leading-edge precision and lack of electronic haze help it truly evoke the feeling of sitting on the stage with the musicians, each and every instrumental entrance having that tactile realism.

Having been a classmate’s of Ms. Hahn’s I also have first-hand experiences of her playing, and the Essence strongly evoked memories of hearing her performing in recitals or practicing in our conservatory. Though we were both teenagers at the time, she had already developed her distinctive tone and focused intensity, and hearing that reproduced so vividly through the Essence and Audiovector speakers is uncanny.

The frequency extremes of the Essence amp, particularly in combination with the Essence preamp, are also something special - the crazy-wide specified bandwidth of Gryphon components is no joke. The speed and tautness and slam of the bass brings realistic clarity to the foundation of the music. It’s bass that I like to call “sneaky” for the way it doesn’t unduly call attention to itself, but then will come out and smack you in the face as in a live event. Instruments like string bass or contrabassoon are naturally portrayed in the orchestration, rather than getting buried in the mix. The top end is extended and articulate, capable of bringing out all the energy and brilliance of string, brass and percussion instruments, and yet certain recordings that tend towards brightness actually sound warmer and smoother than I've heard before. It sounds so pure and free from distortion, so that if there’s any distortion already present on the recording it does nothing to aggravate it. Sibilants and tape hiss and clipping are still there, yet come across less obtrusively, making them easy to tune out in favor of the music.

Case in point: the DSD remaster of Strauss Don Juan, recorded in 1958 by the Cleveland Orchestra under George Szell (Qobuz). My wife and I have listened to this recording dozens if not hundreds of times and while the performance is riveting, the recording quality has always been a bit hissy and strident. My wife asked to listen to it again on the Gryphon setup for study purposes and halfway through I remarked, "does this recording sound a lot less bright to you?" She concurred - we had never heard it sound so clean and natural, and for the first time I didn't notice the tape hiss at all. The Gryphon gear really does excel at extracting the essence of the musical performance locked in the recording, neither artificially filtering nor amplifying the distractions of its mechanical limitations. I’ve heard far too many ultra high-end systems that need absolutely pristine audiophile material to sound their best. With the Gryphons, every recording in my collection has never sounded more distinguished and compelling.

The sense of space that the Essence preamp conveyed with other amplifiers becomes even stronger in combination with the Essence amp. I have never heard the different sections of a symphony orchestra arranged so palpably. Winds and percussion have clearly delineated space behind the string section, and delicate clarinet solos that are typically a bit hazy in recordings are conveyed with both clarity and intimacy. There’s something about the Essence’s blend of clean transients, tonal rightness and harmonic resolution that bring out the distinct ambience and texture of each recording - the aural equivalent of the “mouth feel” of a wine. Going back to otherwise excellent amps makes everything feel a bit more homogenous, a hair less stimulating.

There are a couple of potential shortcomings to call out, and they may be interrelated. The first is that the bass in combination with the Audiovector speakers isn’t quite as hard-hitting as with, say, the 600wpc Class D Legacy iv2, or as what I heard with the Gryphon Diablo 300 integrated; nor is it as plump and room-filling as with the Pass XA30.5. Quality-wise it’s exceptional - fast and deep and pitch-perfect in ways they can’t match - but sometimes I just want it to fill out the space a bit more and punch me in the gut a little harder. I mostly miss this when listening to pop tracks, e.g. anything from Billie Eilish where the raw punch of the Legacy amp factors more strongly than the n-th degree of refinement from the Gryphon.

The other nit is that the soundstage, while vividly painted, feels a bit less “generous” than bigger-sounding amps like the Legacy or Pass Labs, or the Gryphon Diablo for that matter. There’s a bit more emphasis on the precise constituency of an orchestra, as opposed to its sheer scale - a little more of the trees, a little less of the forest. To some, this may make the Essence feel a hair light in presentation, despite its rich and layered midrange. Ears I trust tell me moving up the Gryphon line to the Antileon EVO or Mephisto can give you the best of both worlds, but those are obviously at increasingly exorbitant price points.

I’ll need to try tweaking these area of reproduction more (e.g. cables), but as it currently stands, I could see the Essence best matching with speakers that are tonally richer and a bit less critically damped on the bottom end, vs. requiring care with something leaner and more laser-focused. It’s slightly lean with some recordings on the Audiovectors, and I’d definitely want to check before paring it with the likes of a Magico. It goes without saying that when you get to this level of fidelity (and cost), you should expect to spend a fair amount of time and effort on component matching.

As a side note, I was able to further extend the capabilities of the Essence via Furutech’s DPS-4.1 power cord (custom built with 20A connectors) and DSS-4.1 speaker cables. These upped the clarity and transparency yet another notch or three, opened up dynamics further and created a wider sense of space on recording after recording. I’ll have more on these excellent cables and how they synergize with the Gryphons in a future installment.

Capturing the Essence

It’s been challenging pinning down the character of the Essence system, the amp in particular. Even more so than other great Class A amps I’ve heard, including from Gryphon, the Essence amp has a combination of purity, openness, refinement, clarity, speed and dynamic life that defy the usual idiosyncrasies and limitations of Class A vs. AB vs. D. It’s dynamically fleet, rhythmically incisive, tonally sophisticated, dimensionally resolving, and sneakily powerful and punchy. In combination with the superb companion preamp, it uncovers a sense of space in virtually every recording I throw at it with greater detail and palpability than I’ve heard before, without seeming artificially holographic like some tube amps. The tonal purity and resolving power of this pair are simply at a level I have rarely experienced anywhere at any price. Moreover, the name “Essence” couldn’t be more apt - all these sophisticated qualities are squarely focused on conveying the beauty and quirks of the original recording without need for enhancement or editorializing to make it enjoyable. The closest aural recollection I have of this sort of musical resolution was the MSB Reference + Magico M3 system at RMAF 2018, which had a significantly superior DAC and a total cost approaching $300k.

As for the price... well, I can say that the monies spent on a piece by The Gryphon clearly go towards obsessive engineering and craftsmanship in the service of state-of-the-art music reproduction, rather than ostentation or frivolous excess. This is musical fidelity of the highest order, and my new reference in amplification.

#review #firsttake #gryphon #amplifier #preamplifier #dac #audio #audiophile #hifi

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