#I tried putting this under a read-more and it refused to let me post it when I did. This is Attempt Three | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

propertyofwicked · 6 months ago

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STARE - LN

based on this request ✧ my inbox is open for requests (or if u just want a chat!) ✧

warnings - smut! MDNI!! unprotected, praising, sorta soft!dom, co-workers to lovers??? not proof read

masterlist the playlist

the energy of the mclaren garage was palpable, with engineers and mechanics scurrying around, ensuring everything was perfect for race day. y/n had been working with mclaren for a couple of years now, her role integral to the smooth running of race weekends. but today, something was different.

in honouring the master of monaco, ayrton senna, the two drivers had been given race suits that showed tribute. yellow and green suits that screamed heritage, elegance, and - in y/n’s opinion - undeniable charisma. both drivers looked good, they always did, but every time y/n caught a glimpse of lando, time seemed to slow. he looked every bit the part, embodying the spirit of senna effortlessly.

she couldn’t help but stare, her eyes seemingly glued to his form as he interacted with the team, each glance lingering a little too long. maybe he caught her a few times, heat rising her cheeks every time she quickly averted her eyes. maybe he hadn’t even noticed her, though had she not been so eager to hide her face, she would’ve seen the way he smirked to himself.

lando felt smug.

the race was typical for monaco, aside from the first-lap crash. oscar finishing P2 was significant for the team and for him, marking his best finish of the season so far. after the chequered flag waved and the celebrations began, y/n tried to busy herself with post-race duties, wrapping up some paperwork in hospitality whilst the rest of the team fulfilled media duties and packing away equipment.

or at least she tried. the room seemed to be filled with tv screens, all displaying lando’s post race interviews, hand on his hip, sweaty curls and a boyish grin. y/n was distracted, trying to avoid looking at the screens for too long, but she couldn’t help but let her mind wander at the sight of his black fireproofs clinging tightly to his frame - she was just a girl, after all.

“so,” lando began, smirking as his eyes sparkled with mischief, “you think i look good in the senna suit, huh?”

her heart skipped a beat, and her whole body jumped, not expecting lando to be stood directly behind her, his hands resting on the back of her chair.

“what? no! i-i mean, yes, but –” she stammered, “paperwork,” she added, unable to form any sort of coherent sentence. he chuckled teasingly, though his smirk grew more smug as he noticed her cheeks going red and her hand shooting up to play with her necklace.

“i saw you looking at me. a lot. couldn’t help but notice.”

“i wasn’t – i mean, i was just –” y/n stuttered, trying to regain some composure as he leant down, using the chair to support him as his head dropped to rest closer to hers. she refused to make eye contact.

“it’s okay, you know. i’m flattered,” he muttered, glancing around to ensure no one was in earshot before continuing, “but if you keep looking at me like that, i might start to think you’re more interested in what’s under the suit.”

“lando, i...” she choked out, finally turning her head to face him. he was grinning, his mouth curling into that cocky, confident grin that she had seen too many times - but this time it was directed at her, and y/n was enthralled.

“how about we discuss this further in my driver’s room? less chance of interruptions,” lando told her, his tone leaving no room for an argument, though it wasn’t as if she was going to refuse. his eyes flicked around the room once more, before grabbing her wrist to tug her along behind him. once inside the room, he closed the door behind them, the small space suddenly feeling much more intimate.

“so,” he said again, turning to face y/n, “you think i look good, huh?”

“yes, i do. very good,” she told him, suddenly deciding to put on a brave face. his smirk softened into a genuine smile.

“good to know. because i think you look pretty good too,” lando replied, stepping closer, his hand reaching up to gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, “especially in that skirt you wore a few weeks ago.”

she looked at him puzzled for a moment, she knew exactly which skirt he meant, but how did he? how had he noticed her enough to remember what she was wearing?

“how did yo-”

“at least when i stare at you, i don’t make it obvious angel,” lando grinned, before dropping his head to press a kiss to her lips quickly, almost hesitantly at first. she kissed him back quickly, her arms wrapping around his neck as his hand moved to cup her jaw, the other settling on her waist. his hand pushed her head back, allowing him better access as he deepened the kiss, all whilst moving the two of them towards the sofa.

“it wasn’t that obvious,” she retorted in defence, pulling away from his lips quickly to catch her breath.

“it was,” lando replied, shifting the two of them so that he fell comfortably on the sofa, her landing on his lap, “even oscar noticed.”

“shut up?” she replied, tucking her face into his neck to hide her embarrassment, but trailing kisses down his skin.

“make me?” he replied, matching her tone as she nipped at his skin lightly, “good thing i’ve finished media for the day, isn’t it?”

“sorry - i didn’t mean t-” she started, pulling back to look at the red mark forming on his neck, but found herself interrupted by the shake of his head.

“i’d say do it again, but we have…20 minutes until everyone needs to leave,” lando told her reassuringly, his fingers gripping at her hips as his fingers rubbed harsh circles into her skin. her grips rolled into his, as if instinctually, whilst he moved back to kiss her, harsher than before.

“as much as you like this suit, it’s about time i take it off - don’t you think?” he asked, watching as she nodded quickly, her hands moving to the zipper. her hips rose momentarily to help him strip down, a pile of his clothes forming on the floor next to the two until he was left in just his boxers, her in equally as little clothing.

“lace?” lando asked, smiling up at her, his fingers trailing the hem of her underwear teasingly, “id ask if this was for me but there’s no way you could’ve seen this coming.”

“no, id say you were right,” she shrugged, her hand moving to grip his cock through the fabric, “i like to come prepared.”

“and ‘come you will,” he joked, which she couldn’t help but smile at despite the intimacy.

lando pushed a rugged finger past her panties, moving the fabric aside as two fingers slid through her folds, circling her clit a few times. he looked at her face, watching how she reacted to him. her mouth had opened slightly, already feeling pleasure from the anticipation, but it widened as the two fingers pushed into her, stretching her out around him. her hand was still working up and down his clothed length, thumb finding his tip as his precum leaked through the fabric of his boxers.

“did you say 20 minutes?” y/n suddenly asked him, her eyes widening at the realisation.

“i did,” he nodded, stuttering slightly as her hand pulled at his waistband.

“have we got time?”

“from the way you’re working yourself on my fingers, id say we have time to finish this, get dressed and be back at mine with 5 minutes to spare,” he exaggerated slightly, though continued twisting his fingers into her, engulfed in the way she rolled her hips into him as her walls tightened around him.

though lando didn’t give her time to get embarrassed about how quickly she was coming undone for him, before his fingers moved away from her. she whined slowly at the loss of contact, but lando ignored her, moving to take his fingers in his mouth, tasting her on his tongue.

“so good,” he muttered. he grabbed her face harshly, kissing her again so that y/n could taste herself, his hips lifting from the sofa to free himself completely. her hand resumed it’s ministrations, thumb resuming a circling motion on his tip. lando found himself distracted the moment her fingers dragged precum down his cock, following the patterns of veins that spread across his length.

“fuck,” he mumbled, the two of them trying to stay quiet as footsteps could be heard from outside his door, “need you now.”

y/n raised herself up on her knees quickly, lando’s hand on her waist guiding her towards him. his free hand gripped at the base of his cock, tracing it through her folds quickly and lining up with her entrance. the hand on her waist pushed her down slowly, helping to lower herself on him.

“big,” she whined, unable to form a full sentence, her head dropping to rest on lando’s shoulder as she sunk down further.

“thanks,” he laughed out, though the action made his body move causing y/n to slip, taking the rest of his length in all at once.

“fuck,” y/n mewled, nipping at the flesh of lando’s shoulder quickly to distract her from the stretch.

“you’re fine, you’re ok,” he reassured her, his voice soft despite him fighting the urge to thrust up into her.

she nodded into him quickly as her hips began to roll into him, feeling the way his length filled her. small grunts and incoherent mumbles from lando urged her to move more, so she raised her hips slowly before dropping back down over and over again until she settled on a good pace. lando’s fingers dug into her hip, barely guiding her movement whilst his fingers left bruises in his wake.

“wanna see you,” he told her, a hand pushing her shoulder back to look at her face. the new position awoke something in her, the angle sending her into overdrive as she used him to get herself off.

“and these…” lando added, moving to grip her breast in one hand, neck straining to take the other in his mouth.

“fuck, lan- fuck,” y/n uttered, feeling the way his tongue flicked at her nipple quickly before moving to nip and suck at the surrounding flesh. her chest was littered in red marks, sure to form into a constellation of bruises that would adorn her skin for weeks.

“taking me so good baby,” he told her, feeling the slowing of her pace with her legs growing tired, “you need me to help?”

she looked at him intently, before nodding. lando’s eyelids were half closed, but she could still see the way his pupils were blown with lust - he groaned deeply as she came to a stop, returning to rolling her hips into him instead.

“need to hear you say it,” lando insisted, his fingers trailing circular patterns up her thighs before settling on her clit. he felt her tense around him, the rolling of her hips coating his length in her slick as shoots of icy pleasure seemed to move directly from his fingertips to her brain.

“please, lando.”

“please what? what do you need, baby?” he teased, his own hips beginning to slowly jut up into her.

“need you t-to take over,” y/n stammered, gripping at lando’s shoulders tightly, “please.”

as much as he wanted to hear her beg, the way she had whimpered the word please was enough for him to pull her into a tight embrace, her legs anchoring around his back before he started thrusting himself into her at a brutal pace. oh how she prayed no one was stood nearby at this very moment, as all they would hear was the distant sound of skin slapping against each other, slightly muffled by the two of them panting.

“so responsive,” lando praised her, slowing slightly to sneak a hand between the two of them, fingers finding her clit once more, “fit me so well. like you were made f’me,” he grunted.

y/n’s mind had gone blank as lando mindlessly praised her, he himself unable to think about anything else.

“you gonna cum f’me?” he cooed, feeling the way she began to claw at his back, raking her nails into his skin and she grinded her hips into him, matching his pace.

“mhm,” she muttered out, her lips returning to his in a heat kiss - the type of kiss that overall had too much tongue and too much teeth but fit the haste of the moment so perfectly.

“go on then,” he prompted, “show me how good i make you feel.”

y/n didn’t respond verbally, she couldn’t. no, instead she came hard and fast, letting lando grip at her hips to hold her down harshly so that his length stayed deep inside of her.

“fuck me,” she panted out, though tried to keep the rolling motions of her hips to bring lando to his own finish.

“so good to me,” he grunted, taking in the sight in front of him, “you feel so good,” he added, barely able to utter another word before he was pulling her off him, ropes of cum shooting onto his stomach as she hovered over him.

“you didn’t have to do that,” she told him after a few moments of silence with lando catching his breath, “im on the pill anyway.”

“i didn’t think,” he told her, laughing lightly as she clambered off his lap, searching for her clothes, “now i know for next time.”

“next time?”

“yes, next time,” he doubled down, “trust me, ive wanted this for months. and now i’ve had you, i don’t think i want anyone else.”

heat rose to her cheeks again - she’d hoped this wasn’t a one time thing, but she was now blushing at the thought of it being a regular occurrence.

“tonight?” she asked him, cautiously.

“eager?” he teased.

“sorry i-” y/n started to apologise, stuttering slightly in her nervousness.

“y/n - tonight, tomorrow night, next week. my schedule is clear, for you.”

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris fluff #propertyofwicked

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kiddiewrites · 5 months ago

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Command Me To Be Well pt.2

I'm so sorry I took this long to post, I had to make modifications and still this part is not proof read :'D So if there's

This is part 2 to the “Command Me To Be Well” fic, i wanted a happy ending but it was going to go two ways with this one, either I rushed the ending or I stretched the angst a bit for maximum relief and fluff in the end, I want to do a “sunshine after a storm” kind of fic

The text in italics are memories, mostly from the boy's pov but there are (y/n)’s too :D

Angst, T.F.141 x reader, Platonic!T.F.141 x reader, HURT, bit of OOC T.F. 141, pining!reader, extension of the angst, Injured TF141, MAJOR injuries, late night confessions, Poly!141, fluff, bit of relief.

PART 1

∞ Happier Than Ever ∞

“I don’t relate to you, ‘cause I’d never treat me this shitty”

As it turns out, transfers among the task force without a valid reason were not easy to pull off, Laswell very much told you so when you tried to apply for a unit on the other side of the country.

So the next few days were full of awkwardness between you and the rest of the unit, not for lack of trying from the boys, except for Ghost, barely managing two words to you before you turned away from them, under the excuse of files that needed reviewing or soldiers that needed patching up.

Speaking of which, the other soldiers noticed a shift in your dynamic and even under no fault of their own taking the brunt of it, mainly in the shape of a monstruos training program led by a very much pissed off Lt. “Ghost” Riley. It was almost a common occurrence from the last few days that soldiers arrived exhausted at the med bay with dizzy spells or injured ankles or even passed out from exhaustion. Desperate for some sort of relief in their “punishment” some of them tried to convince you to go to the training grounds and have a talk with him so that maybe he could tone it down out of concern for their fiscal health. You refused. Not because you didn’t think they deserved it or something like that, but because of the glares he had been sending to you since that day.

The Death Stare, is what the soldiers called it. Even the mention of your name would get the poor soldiers under a heavy gaze full of hate, needles to say when you tried to speak to him regarding injuries or his medical history he would just turn away not before looking at you like he wanted to murder you.

Johnny tried his hardest not to look at the spot in the dining hall where you used to sit on your breaks, a task that he couldn’t really manage to accomplish due to the weight of guilt that hung heavy on his shoulders since that day, the words you spoke replaying in his head like a nightmare.

- I know I’m pathetic to you, I know that you think I’m… how you put it, Sergeant MacTavish?- At the mention of his name he looked up at you - “so fucking annoying”, I think was the term used.-

He tried to apologize over and over again but you always shut him down, not giving an inch. Out of pride or hatred he couldn't tell but … your eyes… your sad (e/c) eyes adorned with heavy dark circles under them, made the regret multiply.

-Don’t sweat it, Sergeant, let’s just don’t let it affect our work- you’d say with a tight lip smile and a tired sigh.

But that was just it, it may not affect you but it sure affected him… more than he cared to admit, he never thought that he’d miss your shining eyes and blushing cheeks, that he’d miss your shy giggles and the way you’d follow him around base with a box of cookies or a bag of gummy bears that you’d share. Oh, how he regretted every word that came out of his mouth that night but by all the Gods above, he would fix it. He was a stubborn one after all.

Kyle was a bit harder to read, for such a calm and collected man he was feeling like shit. But he couldn’t bring himself to talk to you, not like Johnny or the captain tried to. He tried a more “actions over words” type of approach, trying to make sure you’d still take care of yourself and if you noticed it you didn’t say anything. In all honesty, he was about to give up, until one night where he stayed up late. It had been a rather slow day and he tried to catch up on his reading before they were inevitably deployed. He sat in a corner of the hardly used couch in the break room and there he stayed for a few hours until it was dark out, the clock reading almost 2am when he averted his gaze off of the pages. Setting the book aside, he stood up and stretched, a few joints popping while doing so. Recovering his book, he left the break room and headed for his dormitory. On the way back his mind drifted back to you and the way you always seemed to have the utmost care when patching him up, the way your brows would frown in concentration and your lips seemed to purse a bit. He remembered the time they came back from a mission, Kyle sporting a huge gash to his side and almost passing out when they landed. He remembers your voice, reassuring him he would be okay and giving instructions to the nurses who worked with you. He passed out but when he woke up there you were, still checking in on him.

The sun shone in his face, stinging his eyes when he tried to open them, the beeping of the heart monitor ringing in his ears and the distinctive smell of the med bay seeping into his nose. He groaned trying to get up, only to be stopped by your gentle hand guiding him back down.

-Easy there, Sarge. You took a nasty cut to your side and lost a lot of blood, you’re lucky it didn’t go any deeper otherwise I don’t know if you’d been able to make it.- His eyes opened completely and focused on your form standing next to his bed, with a gentle smile and tired eyes, no doubt from staying up all night saving him. With the sun giving you a different glow, he thought you looked almost angelical.

-It was a bit of a challenge to get the boys off of your side, I think Ghost threatened me when we took you to surgery.- you said with a small smile and a knowing look.

-Something about framing me with murder of a ranking officer if I didn’t save you- you took a step back to check on his vitals in the monitor.

-I…- He croaked, the lack of lubrication in his throat making it difficult to speak- I thou’ I was a goner fo’ sure- The reality sinking in once he was completely awake, the thought of not seeing the boys again forming a few tears in his eyes, you didn’t comment on them and he was grateful.

-Don’t worry, Kyle.- You said as you approached him and placed your hand in his arm, his name falling from your lips with such care that he felt a blush creeping up to his cheeks and looked away from you.

-I won’t let you die on me, not when you need to go home-

It was the way you said it, so gentle and reassuring. Letting a few tears escape, he felt your hand retreating and heard you moving around the room. It wasn’t until he heard the door open and your voice calling for the captain that he let the tears slowly and silently flow.

-Captain, you can come in now, he’s awake.- Next thing he knew rough hands were cupping his face and turning his head, he saw the captain… no… not the captain, this was John he was seeing. Worried features and red puffy eyes. THAT was John.

-You ok there, sarge?- his voice dripping with relief and fondness. Kyle stayed silent but gave a gentle nod. He soon heard other footsteps and turning to the door he saw Johnny and Simon, they approached with care. Johnny with a wide smile at seeing him alive and Simon with relief in his eyes, the baclava obscuring his face but they knew. Oh they knew their Lieutenant.

- I’ll give you a moment, if you need me I’ll be right outside- your voice was soft but caring. Neither of them turned your way, except for the captain who turned back to you.

-Thanks Doc- he said with a tiny smile, at this yours grew a bit wider.

-Of course, cap- and with that you exited the room, leaving the boys together to process what happened.

The memory brought a small smile to his face and he subconsciously reached for his side, where the now scar was. As he approached the barracks he walked by the med bay, where he saw that the light was on. He peeked through the small window and found you asleep over a few files, with a small smile and realizing a tiny sigh he walked in. Thanks to his years of service and the ability to walk almost imperceptibly helped him at the moment, very carefully he picked the throw blanket you had in one of the chairs before your desk and placed it on your shoulders. He heard you release a small sigh of relief and at that he let out a small chuckle.

-Hav’ ye always been this hard’eaded?- he said in a low tone, trying his hardest not to wake you.

-We’re really sorry ya’ know?- He said it in a whisper, he didn’t really expect you to answer him, the way your chest was rising and falling made it clear that you were not conscious.

He went for the exit and shot you a last glance before he left just as quietly as he entered.

-I know- just a whisper… but he heard it, a small smile making its way to his lips.

-Goodnight, Doc- and so he left with a slightly better heart and in a better mood.

“You made me hate this city”

Things seemed to be looking a bit better, at least you weren't entirely avoiding them now.

And so, Soap saw his opportunity one morning and decided to talk things out with you.

There he stood with a little bag of pastries and a cup holder with two coffees, he had a whole speech prepared for this moment. But the moment he stood in front of your office door, he just couldn’t move.

You could hear the shifting of his feet on the outside of your door, it had been a few days since he last tried to speak with you so you decided to take the next step, literally.

You stood up from your desk and headed for the door, you opened it just as he was about to knock.

It is a funny sight, to see a man of his stature and build look like he was caught red handed, which he was.

-Hiya there, sarge- And oh how he missed it the way your little smirk would accompany the way your head tilted a bit to your side as you looked up at him, it made him feel things, needy things.

-Hiya the’e, doc- he said in a low voice and a small smile, he looked at you as if it was the first time he ever did, your hair pushed back with a headband letting him see your pretty (e/c) eyes.

-May I com’ in, doc? I brou’ coffee and thos’ pastrees ye lik’ so much- It was the most gentle you ever heard him talk and it was heartwarming and really how couldn’t you say no to chocolate spread pastries and warm coffee.

-Come in, then.- You stepped to the side and he let himself in.

You watched him for a bit before closing the door and making your way to the desk.

You took a seat on your chair and signaled him to sit down, you cleared the few files that were littered across the desk so he could set the coffees and the pastries down. After everything was settled he reached over the desk to pass you your coffee, which you took from his hand accidentally brushing your fingers with his, you felt a little blush come up to your face. He sat back with a little smirk at your blushing face and sipped on his cup. You stayed there relishing in the silence and just looked at him, only to find him already looking at you. His beautiful blue eyes just staring back at yours, a little fondness to them but also with something else. Something that you really couldn’t figure out yet but had your stomach do a little flip. You stayed there for a few minutes just looking at each other, you couldn't help to release a little chuckle at the softness of it all. As if he’d never almost pinned you to your desk in a fight that day.

-Some’in on yer min’, doc?- he said with a teasing tone, one that had you looking down at your desk to try and avoid his piercing eyes.

As you looked up once again, you asked the question floating in your mind ever since he came in.

-Why are you here, John?- You’d never called him that, but it felt kinda nice saying his actual name. It felt good.

-Shit, doc. I ain’ been call’d like tha’ since my ma was royaley pissd off at me.- The biggest grin plastered on his face as he said it, quickly changing to a light smile as he saw your gentle serious one.

-I came t’ apologize, doc.- He looked down at his lap, not really wanting to meet your eye.

- I actet like a fecknig fool, I knew from the baggining you tried to geta long, but I jus…, I guess I realey couldn’ and wouldn’ want ta let ya in cos…- he went quiet, there was something else he wanted to say but saying out loud was a bit more difficult than he care to admit.

-Johnny, it’s ok- His eyes shot up at you and he could see the smile on your face, a genuine forgiving smile. One that he would hold on to, even when he went onto the darkest of places.

-I must admit I may have come on a bit too strongly and first, I know it could sometimes be a problem.- The sincerity in your voice was not lost to Johnny, almost as if this wasn’t the first time you had this conversation.

-And uhm, it’s not that I was mad at you for being annoyed with me.- At this Johnny frowned in confusion.

-Then… wa’ was it?- He was genuinely at a loss, he couldn’t really figure out what it was.

You couldn’t help but laugh a bit, watching him furrow his brows and tilt his head to the side was cute, like a puppy.

So you took a deep breath and said it… What was bothering you…

-It’s ‘cause you didn’t tell me from the beginning- His eyes were focused on you, your giggle sounded really cute but the reason behind it wasn’t something he expected.

-You’re not the first nor the last to say those things about me- His eyes widened and he felt the guilt starting to form in his chest

.-I…I’m sorry, doc…- He felt the shame rising in his chest along with something else, a tiny rage, a sense of protection coming over his entire self.

-You don’t have to worry about it, Sarge- Your smile was disarming, the genuine forgiveness coming in waves taking a hold in his heart.

Blushing he smiled back and oh god, what a beautiful smile. All boyish and charming he looked so pretty… so you blushed.

-So, Sarge… wanna take the first bite?- The sly smirk and your low voice sent a tingle of excitement down his spine.

-Ahh…I.. Eh yea’ yea’- his brain short circuited but it felt amazing, he reached for the chocolatey pastry and smiled.

You’ll be the end of him

“And I don’t talk shit about you…”

Something Price always found amusing was the way Simon would find “refuge” in his office when he didn’t want to deal with… anything really.

He would sit down in a chair, fold his arms and sulk, just staring at the wall and huffing.

First time he did it, Price tried to talk to him and all he got was grunts and hums. By the fifth time he sulked in his office, he just let him stay there for the afternoon and only addressed him after he finished his paperwork. Leaning back in his chair he stretched out and felt the satisfying pop of his back and arms.

He turned to look at Simon, who already seemed to be looking at him, a gleam of hunger in his eyes.

-Interested in a drink, Lieutenant?- He asked with a slight smirk and a tilt of his head, a soft satisfied growl was heard from the giant man as he stood up and made his way to the captain’s desk.

-I take any’hing ye give me… sir.- his seductive voice was muffled a bit by the baclava adorning his face but the tone was enough for Price to feel the effects of it in the most intimate part of his soul.

-Careful, Lt.- His eyes scanned the form of his second in command and found himself a bit hot under his uniform. The way that only a few words were affecting him made it so hard to resist, Simon knew exactly what to do and say to push his captain’s buttons and make him feel just the way he wanted to.

-Ye know we can’t be doin thi’ ‘ere- his voice was gruff and low and oh so inviting, his words were one thing but his body… it said something else entirely.

-I den’ see ya resistin’- Simon caressed John’s face in a gentle manner, it was so gentle and so warm that he couldn’t help but lean into his hand.

-Lieutenant, please.- His eyes closed and felt Simon settling into his lap, instinctively he wrapped his arms as much as he could over his wide hips helping his second in command to adjust to the size, when he opened his eyes he swears he felt something stir in his stomach, it was as if he saw them for the first time. The deep blue connecting with his in a very gentle and beautiful manner.

The intimate moment was held for a few minutes, relishing in the silence where they stayed for a few more minutes trying to forget everything that had occurred for the last week.

“Never told anyone, anything bad…”

The rising and falling of the captain’s chest was steady, however breathing was a bit difficult given the tattooed arm that rested across it, he turned his head to watch at the giant man that stayed with him all through the night. The silence was broken by the sound of the telephone ringing had the captain stood up from the bed to answer it, being a difficult task due to the insanely quick reflexes of the lieutenant, as carefully as he could he removed Simon’s arm and stood up to receive the call.

In the quiet of the morning Simon stirred in his sleep, he stretched his arm trying to find the warmth of the captain instead finding cold sheets he bolted right up, as he stood up, the captain came out of the bathroom with a towel draped around his hips. He sat down in the bed, and caressed Simon's hair while he informed him of their next assignment, one that would require you on the field since it would be a rather long deployment, “almost a month long assignment” he was told. So they couldn’t afford to bleed out while waiting for their extraction.

The growl that came from Simon’s throat was a dangerous one, he still hadn’t completely forgiven you for shoving Johnny, the rage stirring in his stomach at the thought of that day.

-Ye’ know tha’ ye hav’ to get along with ‘er, ‘ight?- John tried everything he could for the past week to get you too to maybe bond a bit, but it was a tough task. He had been rude and you hadn’t backed down either, for every rude comment he made you responded with an equally cold and spiteful one.

He didn’t like the idea of you joining in but… orders are orders.

- Yes captain-

And so one cloudy cold day with a medical bag strapped to your back you boarded the plane with your squad ready to be deployed. Not knowing what came ahead.

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#call of duty #cod x reader #cod fanfic #gaz x reader #john price x reader #simon ghost x reader #tf 141 x reader #johnny mactavish #john price #soap mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick

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glossdebut · 1 month ago

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Take a Bite Ch. 7

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you’re finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off… Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You’ve accepted the fact that romance isn’t for you, under any circumstances. You won’t risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ TAGS: slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer yoongi, music journalist reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you’ll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up

✧ WARNINGS: copious amounts of FEELINGS both good and bad, theatre references LOL, world-class meddler kim seokjin, yoongi being hopelessly whipped, angst, smut

✧ WORDCOUNT: 10.3k

✧ STATUS: complete

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: WOW. i don't even know what to say... with this chapter, take a bite is officially complete. THANK YOU so much to those of you who have been reading from the very beginning and sending me such kind words. this story means so much to me and i can't believe it's over. thank you again to @love4myg for beta reading this chapter and the last!! everybody go give tanni some love. i love you all! i tried to give this story the ending it deserves so i hope you enjoy the last chapter <3

Chapter 7: Wanna Do It All Over Again

You’re a planner, a scheduler. You keep a minimum of six to-do lists at a time. You do your best work when your week is clearly laid out for you within the confines of the neat little boxes on your calendar. So you allot yourself one day to grieve what could’ve been with Min Yoongi, and that’s it.

Your Sunday is spent wallowing, because Rina doesn’t give you any choice in the matter and you don’t have it in you to put up a fight. She seems a little bit like she’s grasping at straws on how to help you, though.

You don’t blame her. Rina had dropped everything to be by your side when your ex ended things, but the remedy for that was pretty straightforward.

There was the initial crying on your part—the intense and nauseating kind that felt like it would never stop, until Rina held you and it inevitably did. After the tears came the anger, the picking apart of every little argument you’d had with him, every quirk of his that had soured from endearing to annoying, and Rina had no problem talking shit. Anger turned into drinking, and drinking led to falling asleep in a heap together on your couch.

It didn’t magically fix the hollowness inside of you overnight, but it helped. Rina had a patented method to make a broken heart a little more bearable.

A patented method that, unfortunately, doesn’t really apply here. Your heart isn’t broken over a failed situationship. You’ve been crying, sure, but it’s more of a passive sniffle than anything else. You can’t bring yourself to feel angry at Yoongi either. Confused, annoyed, disappointed, stupid—all of those you can feel just fine. But the anger just won’t come.

Desperate, Rina defaults to cliches. Cheesy movies, ice cream, face masks—the stuff straight out of a ‘How To Get Over Your Ex In Ten Easy Steps’ article in a teen magazine. She paints your nails while you stare blankly at Julia Stiles’ face on your TV. You force yourself to believe it’s helping. You have work to do, a deadline to meet. So if you need to watch 10 Things I Hate About You with Rina and cry it out to cleanse your brain of Yoongi, so be it.

You refuse to use a sick day in general, let alone because of a man, but you do grant yourself permission to work from home on Monday. Not because you’re still grieving—that’s what Sunday was for—but because you look like you’ve been run over, dumped into the river and then fished out.

With greasy hair and puffy eyes, you set your phone to do not disturb and hunker down in your bed to write your profile on Yijeong. Despite the burn of your laptop on your thighs, you type and self-edit for hours, pausing only to listen to your recording of Yijeong’s interview and transcribe direct quotes.

You’re able to churn out a subpar first draft before you burn out around four in the afternoon. Your brain is all over the place, and as a result, the profile is nowhere near where it needs to be. But you don’t have it in you to stare at your laptop screen for any longer.

Rina slipped out this morning and made herself scarce so you could work, so you’re alone. You decide to shower first and foremost, something you’ve been putting off for far too long, and then maybe order dinner if you want to shell out extra money towards a delivery fee.

Stretching your legs as you stand, you use some of your few remaining dregs of energy to drag yourself out of bed and into your bathroom, finally shedding yourself of the sweatpants and shirt you’ve been wearing since Sunday morning.

Your mistake is looking in the mirror. The few marks Yoongi made on your body are only just barely beginning to fade, still dark on your skin. You trace a fingertip over the bruise he’d sucked into your breast just days before, so recently that you can still conjure a phantom of the feeling of his lips and teeth on your skin. He’d wanted you so fervently then that you’d been sure at that stupid party that he already felt what you did. That he’d just been waiting for you to catch on.

You don’t know what you did wrong, what kind of misstep you could’ve made to make Yoongi withdraw so suddenly like he did, but you wish you could take it back.

When you finally emerge from your shower, you’re no more energized than you were when you entered. At the very least, though, you’re clean, and you decide to reward your efforts with tangsuyuk.

When you turn your phone off of do not disturb, you can’t help but hope, just for a moment, that Yoongi has texted you today.

Instead, you find that Seokjin has.

[4:42] Seokjin: If you’re not too busy, can we meet?

The anger that had been missing in action floods your senses all at once.

Seokjin wants to meet you. Seokjin, who you’ve met once. Meanwhile Yoongi, who allegedly still wants to be your friend, can’t send you a cursory text or, god forbid, walk down the hallway to explain any of this to you.

You are not this girl. You have gone through strenuous effort to build very sturdy, very high walls to ensure that you don’t become this girl—the one who loses sight of what’s important to her for a man who will just fuck her over anyway, leave her high and dry. Disappear with no explanation. Fuck that.

If Yoongi isn’t man enough to let you down easily himself, if he’s going to have Seokjin do it for him, maybe you’re better off without any bullshit excuse. From either of them.

You swipe out of your messages, ordering your hard-earned tangsuyuk first. Once the payment has gone through, you open Seokjin’s message again, fingers shaking as you type out your stilted reply and press send.

[5:03] You: i am too busy. and not interested.

Bitterly, you set your phone back to do not disturb. The delivery driver will knock when your food is here, and you couldn’t care less about whatever Seokjin’s reply could be.

★ ★ ★

The rest of the week goes by in a blur, but now that you’re committed to feeling pissed off, you actually feel a lot better. Maybe it’s the man-hater in you.

You hyperfocus on finishing the profile, the words flowing much easier now that you’re done feeling sorry for yourself. Even when you have to write about Suga and his impact on Yijeong’s career, you aren’t the slightest bit thrown off. By the time you’re done, you’re confident that it’s possibly the best thing you’ve written in a long time, and when you hand it off to Rina for feedback she concurs.

On Wednesday morning, you drop the final draft off on Kevin’s desk for approval, and then spend the next few hours helping out where you’re needed. Everyone in the office is in a frenzy to get the layout of Look Here’s next issue together. You spend your day copy editing and calling sources with last minute follow-up questions.

When all of the articles are squared away, you lurk by the design team in case they need any extra hands. In return, you get to watch the paginator type your headline onto the front cover, which is… a pretty cool moment for you.

You usually hate the week leading up to print day, but knowing that Yijeong’s profile is going to be on the cover, you revel in the chaos of it.

You’re slightly anxious when Kevin calls you into his office right before quitting time, but you try not to let it get to you too much. You know the profile is good.

“Y/N,” Kevin says, tearing his attention away from his computer as you step into his office. It’s a good sign, you think, that he’s looking you in the eyes this time. “Sit down.”

You sit, immediately tapping your foot to try and calm your nerves. “You wanted to see me?”

“I read your piece,” he says, leaning forward in his chair to rest his elbows on his desk. But he doesn’t say anything else.

Um… Okay.

“And?” you ask meekly. He looks at you seriously, and your heart jumps into your throat.

“It was incredible,” he says. Fuck, thank god. “You should be proud of yourself.”

“Really?” you ask, your whole body relaxing all at once.

“Really,” he insists. “It was well-written, informative, personal. I don’t know how you got him to open up like that, but I hope you can keep doing it.”

You blink at him. “Keep doing it?”

“You can expect more assignments like that starting next week,” Kevin says, smiling at you warmly. Holy fuck. “We’re all very impressed with you. We want to give you bigger responsibilities moving forward.”

“Thank you,” you blurt out, unable to contain your excitement. “Thank you, I won’t let you down.”

“I hope not,” he hums, amused, before turning back to his computer. “Go home and get some rest. Print day tomorrow.”

“I will,” you say, standing up in a flash. You want to call—Rina, you want to call Rina and tell her the good news. “See you tomorrow!”

“Have a good night!” Kevin calls as you leave his office in a hurry.

As you walk back to your desk to grab your bag, it feels more like you’re walking on a cloud. Holy fuck. You were right. This piece was your breakthrough piece, and you proved yourself just like you knew you could. Nothing can bring you down right now.

★ ★ ★

As it turns out, Kim Seokjin is not the kind of guy who takes kindly to being ignored. Based on what you know about him, you probably should’ve been able to figure that out on your own. But you certainly didn’t expect him to ambush you outside of your apartment.

You spotted Seokjin sitting against your door as you made it home from work, although he scrambled to his feet when he noticed you approaching. You wondered how long he’d been sitting there waiting for you to get him. He looked like he was well-prepared to convince you to let him in, a pre-planned speech at the ready, but you didn’t give him the chance, wordlessly letting him inside.

Maybe you were still riding the high of being praised by your boss, but you highly doubted anything Seokjin could say to you would kill your good mood. If he wanted to defend Yoongi’s honor, he was welcome to try.

Your initial impression of Seokjin was that he was boisterous, silly, and a little bit crude. As you sit across from him, all of that still seems to be true, although he seems intent on doing his very best impression of a longsuffering psychiatrist right now.

He sits primly in the armchair opposite the couch you’ve nestled yourself into, his hands steepled together in his lap as he pulls a serious face. It looks strange on him.

“I’d like to preface by saying that you and Yoongi are both being stupid.”

You blink at him, taken aback, until your expression settles into something unimpressed.

“Nice start,” you say flatly.

“You’re perfect for each other and why both of you are willing to throw it away so quickly is beyond me. It’s giving me a headache,” he continues, rubbing at his temples as if to prove his point. “I’m going to play mediator just this once, and then it’s up to you two to figure it out for yourselves.”

“Does Yoongi know you’re here?”

That makes Seokjin snort. “Are you kidding? He’d try to kill me,” he says, crossing his arms. “No, he doesn’t know I’m here. But he told me what happened, and I think there are some things you deserve to know.”

Yoongi told Seokjin what happened. You can’t help the scoff that escapes your lips. That’s nice for him. You don’t even know what happened. Yoongi certainly didn’t seem to feel obligated to clue you into his reasoning for ending things.

“Why doesn’t he tell me those things himself, then?” you ask bitterly.

“Because he’s stupid,” Seokjin says, snapping his fingers impatiently. “Keep up.”

“Okay,” you sigh, equally impatient. You’ve changed your mind. You want to get this asshole out of your apartment as soon as possible. “We’re both stupid. What is it that I deserve to know?”

“Yoongi-yah may be stupid, but he isn’t a bad person.”

You sit up straight at that. Is he joking? “What are you, his fucking character witness?”

“I’ve been his best friend for over a decade,” Seokjin snaps, clearly tired of your attitude. As if you aren’t justified in having one. “So if I am his character witness, I’m a pretty fucking good one.”

You open your mouth to say something, something venomous at the tip of your tongue, but Seokjin beats you to it, holding his hand up to silence you. “Can you just be quiet for five minutes and let me say my piece? Please?”

Huffing petulantly, you shrug and lean back into the couch, gesturing for him to continue.

Seokjin visibly regroups. You watch as he sits up a little straighter, shakes off the irritation, takes a deep breath.

“For as long as I’ve known him, all Yoongi has ever wanted was to make something of himself,” Seokjin starts, calmer now. “He loved making music, and he didn’t care about anything else. Least of all himself.”

“I got to know him when we were freshmen in college,” he continues. “I’d heard about him from classmates, seen him around, but you know Yoongi. He’s pretty tight-lipped about things, always has been. It’s one of his many faults.”

You scoff, your bitterness cutting through the air. No kidding. That’s how you ended up here, isn’t it? Yoongi’s little omissions, always giving half-truths. The real reason why he ended things with you is just another one to add to the list.

“Anyway,” Seokjin says, his eyes narrowing at you for a moment as he continues. “I was majoring in theatre, and I’d been cast in ‘Into the Woods.’ Yoongi was volunteered by his piano professor to help with the accompaniment, and during our first rehearsal I just remember thinking to myself, ‘who is this scrawny kid who can play Stephen Sondheim with his eyes closed?’”

You wish he’d get to the point already. You’re a sucker for a good backstory, you are. It’s what makes you such a good feature writer. But you’d really like to maintain your resolve in being pissed at Yoongi, if you can help it.

“I was so impressed with him, you know? He does that. He makes everything look so easy. I made it a point to get to know him, and he opened up to me surprisingly fast. I think he needed a friend,” Seokjin continues. “He told me that he was mostly there on scholarships, but he still had to work two jobs to live and pay off the tuition that he did owe. He told me that he utilized the fuck out of the production equipment on campus. He told me that all he wanted to do was make music, and for people to hear it and think it’s worth something.”

Seokjin pauses for a moment, shifting in his chair.

“I think he would’ve done anything to make that happen,” he says, tension in his voice. “I already didn’t like some of the shit he did do, the situations he put himself in, but I think if he knew it could’ve made his dream a reality, he would’ve done much worse.”

Seokjin doesn’t offer up any more information on what exactly Yoongi did, but he doesn’t have to. You gather by the grimace on his face that it must’ve been pretty bad.

“Obviously he made it anyway. You know who he is now,” he says, pausing for a moment. He looks at you seriously. “That comes with its own set of issues, though.”

“Like what?” you ask, disbelieving.

You feel bad for Yoongi, you do. At least for what he must’ve went through in the past. You know what it’s like to struggle, to feel like you can’t possibly reach your goals with the resources available to you. You’re experiencing that currently.

But Yoongi is extremely successful now. Artists trip over themselves to get a song from him because they know it’ll chart, that people will go crazy for it. His track record is that good. How hard can it be, living like that? Having people think so highly of you?

“Like people taking advantage of him at every turn,” he says, his words blunt. “People pretending to care about him to get close to him. Even going so far as dating him. Long-term. Or at least as long as it takes to produce an album.”

Oh.

“…Suran?” you guess, thinking back to the party Saturday night. The way Suran kept touching Yoongi, like there had been something there. Yoongi didn’t seem all that uncomfortable, but he’s got a killer poker face. Could Suran be that kind of person?

“What?” Seokjin asks, bewildered. “No, Suran was just a casual thing. He told you about Suran?”

“I met her. Saturday,” you say, waving a hand dismissively. “They seemed close.”

“That’s been done for years. Yoongi cares about Suran, but it isn’t like that anymore,” he insists, shaking his head. “It was someone else. It’s not my place to say who, but it’s the only time I’ve ever seen Yoongi in love like that. Or at all, honestly. He brought her around all of us, which is a big deal for him. Wrote songs for her. Like, not just for her album, but for her. About her.”

“What happened?” you ask despite yourself. You can feel your resolve crumbling, curiosity getting the best of you. Fuck.

“They were out celebrating finishing the album,” he says. “She wanted to go for a walk after dinner. Kissed him in the middle of the street. The next morning, he woke up to pictures of it all over the internet. She’d texted him, too, breaking it off. It didn’t take much brain power to figure out she orchestrated the whole thing.”

You feel a pang in your chest. As hurt as you are, you also know that Yoongi couldn’t have possibly deserved that. Nobody does.

“He threw himself into his work after that—almost never left the studio. Barely ate or showered,” Seokjin says. “I had to put a stop to it. He was going to overwork himself to death, if I didn’t. I had to help him dig himself out of that hole.”

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, doing your best to ignore how much that sounds like you. How Yoongi was the one beginning to dig you out.

“That sucks,” you say finally. “But I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“Come on, Y/N. You’re smarter than that,” Seokjin huffs. Big talk from the man who’s been calling you stupid this whole time. “Yoongi hasn’t dated anyone since then. Hasn’t even shown interest. Until you.”

“That’s not what it was, between us,” you insist. “I thought, maybe…” Maybe it could’ve been, you think. You shake your head to snap yourself out of it. “But he ended it.”

“Because he’s stupid,” Seokjin says. “Because he got hurt, and it made him stupid, and when you asked him if he could get you an interview with Yijeong, he was scared that was your endgame.”

What?

Yoongi thinks you were using him? What the fuck????

“I wouldn’t—“ you start, but Seokjin cuts you off.

“Why do you think I’m here?” he asks, his gaze piercing through you. “You think I couldn’t tell you were going to fall in love with him the moment I met you? The moment I saw you two together?”

Your throat tightens and you have to tear your eyes away from Seokjin. Love is a big word. One you’re not quite ready to contend with, not now.

“…I like Yoongi,” you manage. You can admit that now, even if Yoongi himself never got the chance to hear it. “But just because he got hurt once upon a time, it doesn’t automatically make the way he ended things with me okay.”

“Just talk to him,” Seokjin pleads.

“Look, I listened to what you have to say,” you say, standing up from the couch. “And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t change some things. But I don’t know if I want to talk to him, okay? Maybe it’s better that it’s ended before we got anywhere serious, if we’re both so fucked up over the past.”

“Y/N—“

“Seokjin, I have work in the morning. I appreciate you coming over to tell me all of this, but I’d really like it if you left now.”

You don’t give him much of a choice in the matter. He’s overstayed his welcome. You make it abundantly clear that if Seokjin doesn’t use his own two legs to walk himself out of your home, you fully intend to grab him by the scruff of his neck and drag him out yourself.

Defeated, Seokjin stands up from his chair and makes his way to your front door. You follow close behind, shutting and locking it behind him before he can get another word in.

When you walk back to the couch, you catch Rina poking her head out into the living room.

Shit. You hadn’t even known she was home.

Wordlessly, you sink back into the couch, emotionally exhausted. Rina sits with you, repositioning you so your head is in her lap, running her fingers through your hair soothingly.

You both sit in silence for a few minutes, but you can practically hear the gears turning in Rina’s head. She’s been biting her tongue since Saturday night, being supportive when you needed it, but not pushing. But she was just in your bedroom that whole time, and Seokjin isn’t exactly quiet. You can only imagine what she heard. You brace yourself.

Finally, she breaks the silence.

“He can play Sondheim with his eyes closed?” she asks.

All of the tension seeps out of you at once. You should’ve known better. Of course Rina won’t push you in either direction. She’s your best friend, your Seokjin. Her loyalties will always be with you, and she knows that you need to process everything on your own.

But she’s also a theatre kid.

“Apparently,” you huff, closing your eyes.

“…That’s really hot.”

You laugh, reaching up to swat at her shoulder. “Not helpful.”

“What are you going to do?” she asks, her voice gentle.

That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? What are you going to do? Seokjin made a strong case for Yoongi, but you’re still mad about how everything played out. You trusted Yoongi this whole time to be honest with you, but you keep being made aware, over and over, of how much he keeps to himself. You aren’t sure if you want to fight to be let in, if it’s worth it. You want it to be.

“I don’t know,” you say finally.

Rina hums, continuing to stroke your hair.

“...Do you wanna watch ‘Into the Woods’?” she asks.

You snort softly, sitting up to grab the remote.

“Only if it’s the one with Bernadette Peters.”

★ ★ ★

When Yoongi got his very first long-term gig as a producer, Namjoon brought him a potted plant as a studio-warming gift.

Yoongi thought it was stupid at first, because his studio didn’t have any windows—windows would compromise the integrity of the soundproofing—so the plant would have zero chance of survival. And why was Kim Namjoon buying him a plant anyway? New headphones would’ve been better, Yoongi told him.

But Namjoon had laughed and insisted that the plant—a dracaena, apparently—was extremely resilient. That it could still thrive in the darkness.

“That’s why I got it for you, hyung,” Namjoon had told Yoongi. “It reminded me of you.”

Needless to say, Yoongi became obsessed with the thing.

It was just a small little cutting, just barely starting to grow on its own, so Yoongi researched how to properly care for it and took all of the necessary steps to ensure it would succeed, even in his dimly lit studio.

He watered it, pruned it, measured its growth. He sent Namjoon pictures of it on a weekly basis. He named it—Eodumie, thank you very much.

It took a while, but eventually, Eodumie started to die. Yoongi didn’t know why, so he started doing research on dracaena. He’d put so much effort into helping it grow, so it only seemed sensible to figure out why things had taken a turn for the worse. Run into a problem, find a solution.

Yoongi very quickly found out that Namjoon was a little bit dumb, and that the only ‘plants’ that grow in complete darkness are mushrooms. But he still felt like he’d failed.

When Yoongi is really upset and can’t stop turning a problem over in his head, he resorts to extremely heavy-handed metaphors to help himself make sense of things.

So all of that is to say, Yoongi has a tendency to kill things before they have a chance to grow.

He thought, because you didn’t want a relationship, that you were safe from it. And you were, because he really was okay with being your friend. He didn’t expect any more from you.

But then you asked him if he wanted to have sex with you, and… Well, everything changed then, didn’t it? Not because he couldn’t keep things casual anymore—if that’s what you wanted, he would do it. He would try. You make it so hard for him to say no to you.

No, everything changed because Yoongi is an overthinker by nature. He’s attuned to the rhythm of the world around him, notices patterns where others don’t. Especially when he’s seen them before.

He gave you his mouth, and then you wanted more. He gave you more, and then you wanted a favor. He gave you your favor, and then Suran gave you his identity. You had your favor, and his identity, and then you were all over him, and Yoongi knows what happens next. He’s heard that song before.

Shit, Yoongi’s made that song before, unwittingly. And he’s not interested in writing another duet just for it to sour like the last one.

Metaphors, again.

The point is, he cut it off before he was in too deep. Sex complicates things. For him. It blurs the lines, and he’d much rather do you professional favors when he’s not also seeing you naked. It’s the only way he can keep being your friend, and that’s what you want.

Seokjin thinks he’s being an idiot. Seokjin can suck his cock. Yoongi was doing what he thought was right.

He hadn’t expected to hear from you. Over the past week he’d thought about reaching out and explaining himself every day. But he wanted to give you space, maybe. Or maybe he still felt a little sore about the whole thing. But then, Friday night, you text him asking him to come over and…

Now he’s in your apartment.

In all of the weeks he’s known you, Yoongi has never actually been inside your apartment before, he realizes. Is that weird? The closest he’d been was when he picked you up for the party on Saturday. When he’d lingered in your doorway, looking at you in your pretty dress. Fuck, you looked good. He didn’t want to go to that dumb party in the first place, but you in that dress… He wanted to drag you down the hall, get you in his bed. Take it off of you with his teeth.

It’s devastating that now that Yoongi is finally here, you seem so stiff in his presence. Quiet. Unlike yourself. You’re sitting as far as humanly possible from him on your couch, and Yoongi feels like an asshole. Even when you were literally a stranger, you didn’t feel like this much of a stranger to him. It was instant, the way you’d hit it off. Did Yoongi really make things this way?

“I read your article,” he says, cutting through the silence. Neither of you have spoken since he came in, and the tension is making him antsy. Desperate to break the ice.

What he doesn’t tell you is that he read your article the second it came out this morning, that he’s had alerts on his phone for everything published under your name since the day after he met you. That he drops everything to read it all, no matter what he’s doing.

It was beautiful. It was about one of his best friends, so of course he thought so, but you have such a way with words. It’s another thing you have in common, he thinks. You both have difficulty saying what you feel out loud, but when it comes to work, when you’re writing, it just pours out of you.

“You read my article,” you repeat softly, huffing. Yoongi can’t read the expression on your face, and that bothers him to no end.

“Of course I did,” he replies, brow furrowing in confusion. “I always do. Especially this one.”

“We need to talk,” you say. He watches as you turn your body on the couch, pulling your legs to your chest to face him.

“Okay.”

“I need to talk,” you suddenly correct, voice tight. You take a breath, and then, “Seokjin came over the other night.”

Seokjin… Oh.

Oh, Yoongi’s going to kill him. Brutally. He told Seokjin to keep his nose out of his fucking business and instead of listening and staying out of it, he came over to your apartment? Is he insane? Yoongi’s always thought so, in a mostly loving way, but this is a whole new level of intrusion that he didn’t think Seokjin was capable of, and now he has to die.

“He came here? He had no right—”

“It’s fine,” you say, waving a hand. Yoongi’s unconvinced, but he forces himself to settle, to take a breath. You said you needed to talk, and he’s going to let you. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I was going to text you, so… It’s probably good that he did.”

Yoongi doesn’t see how that could possibly be the case, but he stays quiet. Waits for you to find the right words.

“This whole past week, I’ve been so… confused,” you start, your eyes fixed on the couch cushion between the two of you. “Confused, and mad at you.”

“I still am, I think,” you continue, lifting your head to look at him. “Mad at you. But I don’t want to be, because I miss you. You said that you still wanted to be friends, but you haven’t exactly put in much of an effort to do that.”

“I wanted to give you space,” Yoongi says. His excuse sounds hollow, even to his own ears.

You shake your head. “You don’t trust me.”

“It’s not that, I just—”

“Let me talk,” you snap, frustrated, and Yoongi’s mouth snaps shut so fast he can hear the click of it. “You don’t trust me, and that’s fine. I get it. But if me asking you for help bothered you so much, you could’ve just told me no instead of assuming that I was using you as some kind of stepping stone and then just breaking things off without explaining.”

There’s nothing Yoongi can say to that. He knows you’re right. He should’ve just said no the second he felt uncomfortable, but it was just so important to you he couldn’t bring himself to not help you.

“I get why your brain immediately went there, but I’m not going to apologize or act guilty or anything like that. Because I wasn’t using you,” you say firmly, crossing your arms. “Shit, Yoongi, all the times you’ve offered to help me I’ve tried to stop you. My car? But then the one time I come to you first, you assume the worst and shut me out. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” Yoongi says, looking down at his hands. “I’m sorry.”

He feels like the world’s biggest piece of shit. For someone usually so observant, he suddenly feels like he’s been blind this whole time. You’ve done nothing but be upfront with him about what you wanted, and still he assumed you were pulling one over on him. He’s spent the past week feeling justified, feeling like he’d done the right thing, but your words have made his entire mindset shift in an instant.

“The night of the party, I…” you trail off. And then you laugh, which makes Yoongi look back up at you. “Yijeong told me I was special. He said that you hadn’t been to an industry event in years, even when he asked you to. I didn’t know that.”

“It was important to you,” he mumbles, sheepish. He didn’t know Yijeong had said anything about him to you. Looking back now, he realizes how stupid that is. His friends are all world-class meddlers. Clearly they need to be, if Yoongi’s this fucking dense.

“See? That right there,” you say, frustrated. “I thought, maybe… I thought you had feelings for me. Non-platonic, romantic feelings. And for the first time since my ex… Did I ever tell you what happened with him?” you ask.

Yoongi had read between the lines. He knew that your ex had a problem with how demanding your job was, and that it’d ended badly, but beyond that he doesn’t know any details.

He shakes his head.

“We were together for almost four years. Almost all through college,” you start. “He met my parents. I met his. After we graduated, we moved in together. In this apartment, actually.”

Yoongi watches you glance around your living room. He knows that look. Years later, he still remembers what his apartment, his studio looked like when they were occupied by someone else. He remembers every detail.

“I thought we were going to get married eventually. We’d talked about it.” You pull your knees tighter to your chest, looking down. “I got my first job at some shitty newspaper. I worked insane hours and it barely paid anything, but it was a start. I was over the moon about it.”

He holds his breath, waiting for what he knows comes next.

“He broke up with me after two months,” you say, your voice wavering. “He said it was because he barely saw me, that he didn’t want to be in a relationship with me if my job was going to be more important than us. It took him less than a week to move out. Four years down the drain.”

Fuck. It’s awful, watching you relive your pain and not being able to do anything but listen. Because Yoongi hurt you, too. He’s the reason you’re digging this up, that you’re feeling it all over again.

Yoongi looks down, picks at his left thumbnail as he listens. He can’t bring himself to look at you.

Your ex is an idiot, he thinks bitterly. How could someone spend four years watching the way you glow when you talk about writing and throw that away?

“I blamed myself. Why wouldn’t I? He told me it was my fault,” you say. “I haven’t been interested in a relationship since. Why try if I clearly don’t have time for it? The thought of you having feelings for me…”

He hears you suck in a breath, braces himself. He thought he’d done a good job of hiding how he felt about you, even after the sex. But he’d made you uncomfortable anyway. Of course.

“It made me want to try,” you say softly.

Yoongi’s head snaps up, his eyes meeting yours. It’s almost insane, the way his heart starts racing in his chest at just the slightest glimmer of hope. You realized how he felt—feels—about you, and you wanted to try? He wants to interrupt you, to ask what that means, but he holds his tongue.

“I think maybe I’ve had feelings for you this whole time,” you continue, looking down at your knees again. “And I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. But when Yijeong told me all of that… I mean, fuck, Yoongi. We weren’t even speaking and you read my article. You helped me even though you thought I was just using you to get ahead. When I hadn’t seen you for weeks, instead of thinking I was a bad friend, you offered up your studio so we could work in complete silence together.”

He would do anything. He would do anything to see you glow. That first night in that horrible Western bar you’d both been dragged to, the way you puffed up with pride when you told him where you work—that’s all he ever wants to see.

“I was going to tell you,” you say. “After the party, I was going to tell you. But then you ended things, and I… I didn’t know why.”

Yoongi needs to salvage this. He needs to know if there’s anything left, if you could ever forgive him for being such a stupid, prideful ass. He hopes.

“Y/N…” he starts, but you cut him off.

“You do this thing where you only give me half-truths about shit, and it drives me crazy,” you say, pointing a finger at him in frustration. “All of the secrecy about your job, who you are, how close you are to Yijeong, why you ended things with us. It seriously makes me want to kill you sometimes.”

You’re right. He prides himself on being an honest person, but he kept things from you on purpose. He didn’t want to let you in fully, to let you see him. He didn’t want to get hurt. But none of that was worth hurting you. He’s going to fix this. He’s going to try.

“Then let me clear some things up,” Yoongi says, sitting up straighter.

He scoots closer, closing some of the space between you on the couch.

Yoongi has never been good at talking about his feelings, not out loud. In songs that will ultimately be sang by other people, sure, but doing it like this makes him squeamish. He’ll get over it, though. You need to hear this.

“I’m an idiot,” he says seriously, looking into your eyes. “I’m an idiot for thinking you would do that to me. I was scared and stupid, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I assumed the worst of you, and that I kept things from you, and that I ended things so suddenly. My past isn’t an excuse. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I should’ve been more open with you, so I’m going to try. Okay?”

You nod once, and he takes it as his cue to continue.

“You were right,” he says, reaching to take one of your hands in his. He intertwines your fingers, staring down at them as he speaks. “About me having feelings for you.”

He hears a sharp intake of breath. He doesn’t know what that means, can’t bring himself to look at you until he’s done verbalizing all of this, but he hopes it’s a good thing.

“I was happy to be your friend,” he continues. “I didn’t expect anything more from you. But yeah, Y/N, I’d be crazy not to have feelings for you. You’re incredible, you know? You’re so smart, so driven, so insanely sexy. I was a goner the moment you introduced yourself to me with a handshake.”

You pull your hand from his, and for a moment he panics, until he looks up to see you using it to cover a tiny laugh. Your eyes are glassy, and although Yoongi hates the idea of making you cry, he feels relieved to know that it’s likely not out of sadness.

“I’m so, so sorry that I hurt you,” he reiterates, pulling your hand back into his and squeezing it. “I never meant to, but I did, and that’s not okay. But if I didn’t completely wreck my chances and you still want to try, I… I promise I’ll do better. I won’t keep things from you, I won’t act without considering your feelings, I’ll do better with all of it.”

You take another shaky breath, biting down on your bottom lip as you process his words. Yoongi feels like he’s going to have a heart attack, tense and pulled taut, but he waits patiently.

The ball is in your court now, Yoongi thinks. This is your decision, as it should be. If you want him to walk away, he will. If you want to stay friends, Yoongi thinks it might kill him now that everything’s out in the open, but he’ll do it for you. But he hopes—

“No more half-truths?” you ask softly, and holy shit.

“I promise,” Yoongi insists. He holds his breath.

“Then I still want to try.”

Relief washes over him instantly, all of the tension leaving his shoulders at once. He didn’t fuck everything up beyond repair. You still want him. Holy shit, you still want him!

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes, squeezing your hand again. “Fuck, can I kiss you?”

“You better,” you say, and Yoongi doesn’t waste a goddamn second. Instantly, he’s moving your knees so he can fit himself between them, cradling your jaw to capture your lips with his.

God, you taste so good. He’s the luckiest motherfucker on the planet.

Yoongi is just happy to kiss you again, to know that you’re his now. But then you make a sweet little sound into his mouth, slide your hands under his shirt, and he pulls away to look at you.

“Baby,” he says, catching his breath. Shit, it feels so good to call you that again. “We don’t have to do anything right now.”

“Are you kidding?” you ask, pushing his shirt up impatiently. Cute. “After you left me hanging last time? In a suit, no less.”

Yoongi huffs a laugh, grabbing hold of your wrists to stop your hands in their tracks. “I’m just saying, we don’t have to rush into anything just because—”

But then you shut him up with a kiss, which he melts into easily before you’re pulling back again. You look so serious. Yoongi likes you so fucking much.

“I want my boyfriend to fuck me,” you say, wriggling your hands out of his grip to keep feeling him up, and Yoongi is powerless to resist because fuck, boyfriend. “Is that too much to ask?”

He shakes his head dumbly, mouth agape. He’s your boyfriend. You said it.

You laugh, pinching his nipple, and Yoongi hisses as he’s yanked out of his reverie.

“Come on,” you tease, standing from the couch and pulling him with you. “Bedroom.”

Yoongi follows you to your bedroom eagerly, letting you drag him by the arm. You take a moment to shoo Pepper off of your bed and out of the room, shutting the door to keep her out, but Yoongi’s patience only lasts so long. As soon as the door is closed, Yoongi pulls you to your bed, laying you down on your back and kissing you breathless.

He slips his tongue into your mouth, tasting you as his hands slide over your ass to squeeze it. You moan in response, your hips kicking up against his, and he lifts his head to look down at you.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs lowly, his lips still brushing against yours. Yoongi thinks he’d give you anything you ask for, especially when you look so sweet and needy beneath him like this.

“Just want you,” you pant, chasing his lips for another kiss. He obliges easily, dipping down to lick into your mouth again.

A part of Yoongi wants to drag this out—really drag it out this time—and tease you until you’re desperate and whining, begging. A part of him wants to see how far he can push you, to make you fall apart so he can put you back together again over and over. But Yoongi’s also not feeling very patient, not when you’re like this. He feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t touch you right now.

You moan as Yoongi rips your shorts down your legs, arch your back as he slides his hand into your panties to feel you.

“Shit, Y/N,” he groans, sinking his middle and ring fingers into your pussy with no resistance. “Always so soaked for me.”

“Yoongi,” you whimper. God, he’s so addicted to that—the way you say his name when he touches you. If it wouldn’t make him sound like a headcase, he’d ask you to record it. Sneak it into his fucking songs. Let the world know how pretty you sound for him.

“Fuck yeah, let me hear you,” Yoongi murmurs. He sets a steady pace with his fingers, curling them up and thumbing at your clit, and you cry out for him, your face contorting with pleasure. Fucking addicting. “Sound so pretty, baby.”

“M-missed you calling me that,” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as you rock your hips up into his touch, and Yoongi’s more than happy to let you take what you need. “Missed the way you touch me.”

“It’s only been a week,” he teases, pumping his fingers faster as his free hand slides over your abdomen and up to your chest to roll a nipple between his fingers. “Am I that good?”

Despite your pleasure, you still reach out to swat at him blindly, and he laughs when your hand connects with his chest. “I hate you,” you complain weakly, but the way your core clamps down on his fingers tells him something else entirely.

“Nah. You like me.” He dips down to lick and suck at your other nipple, satisfaction buzzing through his veins when your hands thread through his hair, grasping at the strands. Yoongi can feel your urgency, can feel how close you’re getting for him in the way your muscles tense beneath him, and he quickens the pace of his fingers in response. “Come on, baby. You gonna come for me?”

“Shit, Yoongi—” you moan. Yoongi feels the tension in your body break, your pussy fluttering as his fingers pump inside of you, and he lifts his head to look.

You look so beautiful when you come. Fuck, he wants to commit everything about it to memory: the flush in your cheeks, the way your lips part in a moan, your eyes shut tight as you just… take it.

“That’s it,” he groans, slowing the pace of his fingers, letting you ride out your orgasm. “That’s my girl.”

After a moment, Yoongi withdraws his fingers, leaning down to kiss you gently. “Okay?” he asks when he sits up on his knees, studying your face as you catch your breath.

“Mmh,” you hum, nodding. Your body relaxes and you sigh, grinning. “More than.”

“Need a second?” he teases, grinning smugly at how fucked out you look already.

“Fuck that,” you say, catching him off guard when you suddenly sit up, surging forward to tug his shirt up and off faster than he can react. The second it’s off, you’re going for his pants next, impatient.

“Fuck, hold on,” Yoongi huffs breathlessly, amused as you struggle to push his pants down over his hips. He stops you, shifting off the bed for a moment to do away with them properly. “Eager, huh?”

“Can’t help it,” you say, laying back for a moment and lifting your own hips to shimmy your panties down your legs. Yoongi can’t help but stare, his tongue running over his bottom lip as he takes in the sight of you. So fucking pretty.

You grin, sitting up again and gently tugging Yoongi closer by the waistband of his underwear. “Yoongi,” you murmur sweetly, and he hums, transfixed by the sight of your hand moving to palm at him through the fabric. “I wanna ride you. Is that okay?”

He inhales sharply, his eyes snapping up to meet yours. He feels his cock twitch in your hand at just the thought of you on top of him, and you smirk. Damn. You’re the smug one now, huh?

“Are you sure?” Yoongi just needs to check. He wants to make sure that this is really what you want, but he’s already moving to shed the last barrier between you.

“Uh-huh,” you confirm, biting your lip as you glance down at his now-freed length, your hand wrapping around it and pumping him slowly. Fuck fuck fuck. Yoongi is not proud of the noise he makes, the pitch slightly higher than his normal timbre. If he doesn’t get inside of you soon he’s going to lose it.

Mercifully, you let go, your attention momentarily torn away as you shift off the bed to rifle through your bedside table. Yoongi moves to the head of the bed, sitting up against your headboard and taking a second to calm the fuck down. He wants this to be good for you, and if that’s gonna happen he needs to be able to not come as soon as you touch him, thanks.

When you return, condom in hand, all Yoongi can do is watch you as you tear the wrapper open, roll it onto his length. Wordlessly, you straddle him, his hands coming up to your hips to steady you.

“Good?” you ask, and Yoongi nods stiffly. He’s so good. How could he not be, with you in his lap like this? With what you’re about to do? You’ve completely turned the tables on him, and he’s so fine with that.

“Just—” he grits out, squeezing your hips gently. “Fuck, go easy on me, okay? I want it to be good for you.”

“It will be,” you assure him, reaching between his body and yours to guide the tip of his cock to your entrance. “Always is with you.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you. “Not if I come in two seconds like a teenager,” he points out.

“I’d consider it a compliment,” you tease. Yoongi inhales sharply as you sink down just the slightest bit, his eyes squeezing shut. He feels your lips on his cheek, pressing a gentle kiss there.

“I’ll go slow,” you tack on, and then you start to ease the rest of the way down slowly, stealing all of the breath from Yoongi’s lungs in the process.

“Shit,” he groans, his head falling back against the headboard. You moan softly once you’re finally fully seated on him, and he squeezes your hips to anchor you there, taking a moment to just look at you. “You’re so pretty, you know that?”

Yoongi’s words are rewarded with a pretty flush on your cheeks and your shy smile. “Shut up,” you mumble. His heart squeezes in his chest, a grin spreading over his face.

“I can’t tell my girlfriend how beautiful she is?” he teases, using his grip on your hips to encourage you to move, tearing sudden, simultaneous moans from both of you as he starts to guide you into a slow, steady rhythm. “How crazy she makes me?”

“You can,” you pant, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders, using them as leverage to follow his guidance. “Please,” you add, causing Yoongi’s lips to quirk up in a smirk.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispers, leaning in to press a kiss to your throat. His hands slide from your hips to your ass, groaning as he grips the flesh in his hands appreciatively. “Do you know how often I think about you? About this?”

“Tell me,” you whimper. You sound so desperate for it, for him, and Yoongi is completely awestruck by you. You’re always telling him exactly what you want, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t want to comply every fucking time. Anything for you.

“Can’t get you out of my head,” he moans into your neck. “You’re so fucking—god, you’re so sexy.” Your hips stutter, and he pulls a hand back to smack your ass once, wordlessly telling you to move a little faster. And you do. “So smart, so passionate. Can feel it in the way you write, but not just that. The way you talk about it, fuck, could listen to you forever.”

You moan, clenching around him, and Yoongi hisses, bucking up into you involuntarily. He’s not going to last much longer, he can feel it, but he can also tell plain as day that you’re just as close.

“Look so sexy riding me like this, too. I’m so lucky,” Yoongi says, sliding his hands over your body as he speaks. “This ass,” he says, gripping it in his hands again. “These tits.” Another squeeze, to your breast this time. “Fuck, your pussy. I could write chart-topping, award-winning songs about this fucking pussy.” One hand slides down, his thumb rubbing at your clit in tight circles. You keen, moaning his name. “How wet it gets for me. The way it tastes, how it feels around my cock. Fuck, Y/N. You’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

“I’m gonna come,” you mewl, and Yoongi can’t help the growl that tears from his throat.

“Yeah, come on my cock, baby, fuck, I’ve got you,” he grits out, planting his feet firmly into your mattress for leverage as he fucks up into you. He groans, his eyes squeezing shut as his hips meet your ass, the backs of your thighs, setting an urgent pace.

“Fuck!” you moan. Yoongi must be doing something right, judging by the way your thighs start to shake, the way your whole body goes taut in his grip. “Fuckfuckfuckrightthere—”

It’s still true: Yoongi will never get tired of the way you look when you come. You just let go, shaking and moaning and digging your nails into his shoulders as you writhe above him. He did that. Fuck.

His rhythm gets sloppy quickly and he pulls you as close as he can as he thrusts up into you, his own orgasm quickly following. Stars burst behind his eyes as he spills into the condom, groaning into the crook of your neck as he slows to a stop.

You pull him into a kiss, both of you gasping into each other’s mouths as you recover. When you tear yourself away, Yoongi feels your hands cradling his face, and he opens his eyes to find you looking at him, exhausted from exertion but smiling.

“I think all of those things about you too, you know,” you mumble fondly, thumbing his cheek. Yoongi’s heart skips a beat. “It’s not just you.”

His hand comes up to rest over yours, a shy smile playing at his lips. “Guess we won’t get tired of each other any time soon.”

You laugh, carefully lifting up off of his lap. “No, I guess not.”

It’s hard to tear himself away from you, but Yoongi drags himself off your bed to dispose of the condom, navigating his way to your bathroom easily. Your apartment has the same layout, after all. When he returns, he uses one of your towels to wipe you down carefully.

Afterwards, he climbs into your bed with you, pulling you close, your head on his chest. For a moment, Yoongi tries to think back to the last time he felt this way, but he comes up short. Even in his last serious relationship, it didn’t feel this way. In the back of his head, even if he wasn’t willing to admit it until now, he always knew something was off about it. But this, being close to you like this, this thing you were both so scared of… It feels so right.

“Seokjin thinks we’re going to fall in love,” you say after a long moment, your voice quiet. Dangerous thing to say, Yoongi thinks, with your head on his chest like this, so close to his traitorous heart.

“Seokjin thinks a lot of shit. Says all of it out loud, too,” Yoongi murmurs into your hair, taking one of your hands to thread his fingers with yours. “What do you think?”

Yoongi knows what he thinks. He thinks he’s already more than halfway there. He thinks this… you and him could really be something. Not for the first time tonight, he holds his breath.

“I think he’s right,” you answer softly, lifting your head to look at him.

As Yoongi looks back at you—his wallflower, his neighbor, his music journalist friend, his beautiful, hardworking girl—all he can think about is that Western bar he didn’t want to go to. The one he was dragged to on some random Friday, not even a wellness check night. The one he could’ve easily said no to going to in favor of staying in his studio instead. Just another thing he owes his friends for, he thinks. This might be the best one, though.

He squeezes your hand.

“Yeah,” he says. “Me too.”

★ ★ ★

EPILOGUE

You didn’t think you were going to make it.

Work has been busting your ass lately, and while you’re endlessly thankful that your career has suddenly taken a sharp turn for the unimaginable—interviewing Lee Chaerin, fucking CL up close and personal, are you joking?—you told Kevin that you had somewhere to be tonight. And that motherfucker still kept you in his office long past five to brainstorm next month’s edition.

Thankfully, you made it out with just enough time to make yourself look presentable in the mirror before making a dash for your car. Unfortunately, you had to forego running home to shower and change clothes, but you did wear a cute sweater and a flattering skirt to work today in anticipation of exactly that situation. Small mercies.

You’re late, definitely late enough for it to be rude, but Yoongi had insisted over and over that this was a completely casual thing.

You love Yoongi, but he’s totally full of shit. There’s nothing casual about meeting your boyfriend’s literal soulmates.

As you stalk towards the front door of the restaurant, you pray that you haven’t completely squandered your first impression before it even begins. Even Rina is making a better one than you—she showed up twenty minutes early. Backstabbing bitch.

Yoongi, ever the gentleman, meets you at the door.

“Will you relax?” he says, exasperated even as he leans in to kiss you ‘hello.’ When he pulls back, he flicks you on the forehead. Asshole. “You texted me your ETA like twelve times. While you drove. This is the furthest thing from a big deal.”

“Says you,” you grouse, slipping your arm into the crook of his elbow easily as he guides you inside. “These are your soulmates. They already love you. What if they hate me? What if they want to burn me at the stake?”

This past month with Yoongi has been nothing short of bliss. You’re both busy, both practically living in your respective workplaces, but sometimes you make time to visit him in his studio and work next to him in silence. Sometimes you come home to find him cooking dinner for you in your apartment and swapping stories with Rina. Sometimes you sleep in on weekends, wake up next to him and admire the softness of his features in the morning, the way Pepper curls up on his chest like he’s been around forever. It’s so good it makes you want to cry. Comfortable. Plus, there’s lots and lots of sex. Sex so good it makes you actually cry sometimes.

“They won’t,” he insists, keeping you close as he weaves through tables to guide you to the private room in the back. “They’ll love you, too. Maybe even more than me. You’re much easier to get along with.”

“That’s true,” you concede with a dramatic sigh, smiling at him fondly. He may be a grouchy hermit, but he’s your grouchy hermit.

When you reach the door of the private room, he stops. You can hear Seokjin’s windshield wiper-y laugh, even with the door closed. “You ready?” Yoongi asks, turning to you with a grin.

“No,” you mumble, pouting. When he runs his thumb over your bottom lip mockingly, you huff at him. “But I guess I have to be, don’t I?”

“Yep,” he says simply, dipping down to kiss you one more time. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. I love you, so they’ll love you, too.”

You hum, grabbing greedily at the front of his shirt to pull him down for one more kiss. “If you say so,” you murmur. “I love you, too.”

You smooth out his shirt and then do a full-body shake to ease your nerves, which makes Yoongi snort. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Yoongi nods, smiling at you fondly, gums showing. You’re damn lucky, you think, to be the one at the receiving end of those smiles. He loves you. It’s so fucking stupid how much he loves you, and how much you love him in return. It’s still new, still a little thing that both of you are learning how to nurture properly, but fuck it’s good.

When he opens the door, the noise of friends inside—both yours and his—filtering out into the restaurant, it’s that gummy smile still lingering in your mind that makes you take a step inside. That, and Yoongi’s voice in your head telling you it’s going to be okay. Because if there’s one thing you know beyond a shadow of a doubt after this past month, it’s that Yoongi will always be honest with you.

He squeezes your hand, and you step inside.

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 1 year ago

Text

Under a Star-Flecked Sky

Author's Note: This was supposed to be some Rhysand x Reader fluff, but the depression brain-rot got the better of me and I wrote some angsty, post-UtM Rhys moments instead (don't worry there is some fluff at the end). My baby just needs a hug, and honestly I think SJM did him dirty by brushing his trauma Under the Mountain under the rug.

Warnings: Mentions of Amarantha, Rhys' Post-UtM Trauma

Summary: You're Rhys' mate, having already been with him before the Mountain, and are navigating Rhys' healing journey as best you can.

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The bed was cold; the realization jarring you from the deep clutches of sleep. Your bed was never cold, not when your mate was in it. Rhysand ran warm, your own personal heater, usually spending the night curled around you, cocooned inside the safety of his wings, but those great wings and the male attached to them were nowhere to be seen. His side of the bed empty, the sheets rumpled, blanket haphazardly clinging to the side of the mattress like he'd flung it off in a hurry, even though you hadn't heard him get up.

You sat up, shivering in the chill coming through the open windows, the satin curtains billowing in the autumn breeze. It would be too cold to leave them open soon, a fact you knew often put your mate on edge, especially after...

You called for him down the bond you shared with your mate, worried. It had been a couple months since Rhys had returned home to Velaris after Amarantha; the nightmares had been constant the first couple of weeks, at one point they had gotten so bad he'd started spending the night at the Moonstone Palace, claiming he had work to do to avoid you and the rest of the Inner Circle from seeing him like that, but with some help from Madja and some other healers in the city he'd been able to get a handle on it. Usually. Some nights were worse than others. You'd tried to be as supportive as possible, even going down to the Library to read up on ways to help. There were calming teas you'd started making for him before bed, the recipe tucked in one of those old books, but you suspected Rhys drank it just to make you feel like you were helping, the cup still half full on the bedside table. You'd drifted off shortly after handing it to him last night.

When there was no answer down the bond, you crawled out of the bed, dragging the blanket with you. The black silk slip you wore did nothing to stave off the cold, you'd worn the birthday gift from Rhys down to its threads over the years he was gone. He'd offered to buy you a new one--multiple in more colors--but you'd refused. It was your favorite, you'd find some magic to keep it held together if you had to. Still, it was the wrong time of the year for it, and you opted to stay warm under the blanket instead of pausing to change into something else as you left the room in search of your mate, still calling for him down the bond.

He gave no answer, his end silent. As silent as it had been for the last 50 years, that great, formidable wall of adamant shielding him from you.

You bit your lip as you checked each room in the house, all empty, save for the one Cassian was snoring in at the end of the Hall. They'd started taking turns sleeping over, keeping an eye on their brother. Azriel had stayed the night before, Mor the night before that. They stole your wine and played old board games until the early hours of the morning, trying to get Rhys' to laugh, or smile at the least. He didn't do a lot of that these days.

Your heart clenched painfully in your chest. He'd been through so much and half the time he'd just shut down and shut you out, unable to explain what had happened. What she had done to him. Most nights you wondered if there was a way to let you into Hell, just so you could kill her a second time. You'd had a long time to think about what you'd do if you ever had the chance to get your hands on her. Not that it mattered in the end, you'd never been able to get into the Mountain. You'd failed him then and it was starting to feel like you were failing him again now as you all but sprinted through the house.

It took longer than you would like to admit to notice that the balcony doors in the living room were open. Rhys left the windows open, never the doors, even if Velaris was the safest place in Prythian, he'd never leave you vulnerable like that, not unless he was nearby.

Tears pricked your eyes, your lower lip bleeding from how hard you'd been biting down on it as you stepped out into the frigid night air. The lounge chairs and tables along the edge were all empty, no glass of Rhys' favorite whiskey in sight.

Your heart thundered in your ears, thoughts racing. Where the hell was he? Had something happened? Was he in danger?

You were about to start calling his name in desperation before a shifting tile on the roof caught your attention. One of the pieces had been knocked loose--a new occurrence because you'd had to replace them after a drunk Cassian had tried to do a back flip off it last week.

Clutching the blanket around your shoulders with one hand, you used the other to pull a chair over to where the corner of the roof hung over the balcony, and carefully climbed up. The townhouse roof was not as steep as the Palace roof, or even the cabin in Illyria, where you and your mate used to sit and talk about all his plans for his city and his people.

That ache in your chest returned tenfold as you spotted your mate, sitting at the highest point of the roof, knees to his chest, wings wrapped around himself to fight against the cold. His head was tucked against his knees, ebony hair covering his eyes. This was not his spot to stargaze. This was not like all those times you'd sat together, whispering your dreams to the stars, so hopeful and eager for the future. This was not the ambitious and hopeful High Lord who had swept you into the glittering world of the Night Court and mapped out a future among the stars with you all those years ago. You had gone to the cabin in Illyria only once while he was away, and the loss of him, the bond so quite and empty and cold in the place you had formed it had been so devastating you'd almost ripped the place apart one wood plank at a time. At the time you had been so sure you had lost him forever that you'd nearly ripped everything you had built together apart in your grief. You had left all those dreams you shared in those woods and vowed that you would never whisper any prayers to the stars ever again. Not if their heir was gone and their reflection in his violet eyes would never look your way again. You had stopped dreaming in his absence. Nights like this you wondered if he had too. Perhaps the Mountain had taken more from both of you then you dared to admit, even to each other. What good were dreams if the stars no longer listened, if they would no longer answer you?

It was an easy climb to him compared to all the other roofs you had climbed to sit with him in the past, even with the blanket still clutched around your shoulders.

Rhys didn't look up. You weren't even sure he'd heard you. Still, you lowered yourself to sit next to him, the worry swirling in the pit of your stomach only beginning to settle as you took in the jasmine and citrus scent of him. This was the part where you said something witty, threw the blanket around him and chastised him for leaving you alone, but maybe those were games for the people you were before. The last time he hadn't heard you coming, too caught up in his own head to hear you, he'd flinched so hard his powers had knocked a bookshelf over, panic flooding the bond. He accidentally showed you a flash of red hair and pointed nails, scratching at his back before he'd ripped the memory away and locked himself in the bathroom. You'd been trying to find ways to avoid doing it ever again.

It was a long, tense few minutes before Rhys lifted his head off his knees just enough to look at you. "Did I wake you?" His voice was raw, like he'd been screaming.

You wanted to touch him, to hold him in your arms and stroke his hair and make it all better, as his touch had always done for you, but everything was so different. Sometimes you were sure he let you hold his hands because he knew you wanted to, not because he wanted to.

It had been a long couple months, you'd been weighing and measuring every word, trying not to startle him, trying not to make him feel any guilt or shame. He had saved you, and your family, had given everything he'd had to ensure that she didn't taint any bit of your home, you owed him a solid front, a shoulder to lean on. You had not spoken of how scared you had been, how cold and empty and wretched you had felt for every moment of the last fifty years. You'd crafted a nice mask for the court to see, holding steady in his absence, not taking it off, even after his return in hopes that it would ease his burden. But the words came tumbling out of you, the tidal wave of emotions bubbling up and bursting out in a rush, "You scared me."

He sat up a little straighter, pain flashing across his star flecked eyes.

"The bond was quite," tears pricked your eyes. "Cold. You wouldn't answer me. You'd shut me out." It was that last bit more than anything. You could handle the nightmares. You could handle this new version of your mate, because truth be told there had been times you weren't sure he was ever coming back, whatever shape he was in was irrelevant in the long run as long as he was alive. All the newness, the unease and uncertainty, the new quite version of him was easy to handle. But the quiet, knowing he'd shut you out again...

"I know that you need time, and space, and I'm trying to give that to you, Rhys, but..."

He unfurled his wings enough to wrap one around you, an arm sliding around your waist to pull you against his side. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he whispered against your temple, planting gentle, feather light kisses against your skin as you buried your face in he crook of his neck.

He was here. He was safe. This was real. All things you often had to remind yourself of.

"Please don't shut me out like that," you whispered, the tears falling freely down your cheeks. "Not again. I can bear a lot, Rhys, but not any more of that."

His wings came back around to cover both of you as he stroked a hand through your hair. Still, aside from a few more whispered apologies, he didn't speak, didn't attempt to explain himself. You tried to tell yourself it was fine, he didn't have to explain, he'd earned the right to keep whatever he needed to to himself, if he wanted to tell you he would. But he still had not lowered his shields, did not project anything down the bond. A part of you wanted to scream, grab onto that tether that linked your souls together and shake it like you could somehow force life back into it. Maybe things would be better if you could. Maybe they'd be worse. You tried to tell yourself this was enough.

"There are things," he said finally, his voice pained like he was having trouble putting it together, no sign of that silver tongue of his. "Things I can't... can't talk about."

You laid your hand over his heart, feeling the uneven beat. It was rare for Rhys to be so obviously anxious.

"Things I won't talk about."

"It's not healthy-"

"No," he growled, tightening his grip on your waist to keep you from pulling back to look him in the eyes. By the uneasiness of his breathing you thought he might be crying himself. "You do not need to know. You will hear enough of my sins from everyone else."

Sins, as if he had done any of it willingly, as if he'd had any choice in it.

"You didn't have a choice," you began.

"It doesn't matter," Rhys countered. "That is not the story they will tell."

He would be the villain, the little lackey that did her dirty work, the monster that ripped people's minds apart for his evil queen. You'd heard the story in the High Lord's meetings over and over again--and worse, especially from Beron and Tamlin. "I don't believe anyone else's stories. I don't care what they think you've done, or why you'd done it. I don't care, Rhys, because it's not true."

He buried his head in the top of you hair, a shuttering breath ripping out his chest.

You shot as much understanding and love down the bond as you could, hoping some of it would eventually break through that wall between you. "I love you, I'll always love you, Rhys, nothing will change that."

His wings tightened around you, soft moonlight shining through the soft membrane, highlighting centuries worth of nicks and battle scars. You longed to run your fingers over them, familiarize yourself once again with the patterns and feelings you had forgotten in the last fifty years.

"But how are we supposed to move forward if we don't talk to each other?" You whispered. "I miss you. I miss talking to you. You're my best friend, my mate, we promised to always be honest and open with each other."

You twisted to be able to look at him, pulling away just enough to catch the glimmer of tears in his eyes. You reached out gently to wipe one off his cheek and he shuttered at the contact.

"It doesn't have to be tonight. Or tomorrow. Or next week. I know that you need time, and I am not asking you to give me details you don't want to, but there's gotta be some way for us to talk to each other again, isn't there?"

He tilted his head to kiss your fingertips. "I'm sorry, I know I've hurt you," he murmured against your fingertips, his lips soft and warm against your chilled skin. "I'm trying." He moved his lips to your palm, placing featherlight kisses on the way down, his offering of another apology, as if to tell you he was sorry you had to be there to wipe away any tears. He'd been like that before, but not this bad.

"I know," you said, "but in the mean time, can I at least have a thought for a thought?"

He hummed against your palm. "You first."

"I'm thinking we really should have put in more comfortable roof tiles," you said, twisting against the tile that was biting into the underside of your thighs.

He shifted and pulled you to sit in his lap with a huff of what was almost a laugh. The shift in conversation was good, kept you both from spiraling further into all the uncertainty the future still held. If you couldn't talk about the past, at least there were things in the present to talk about.

"And I'm thinking," you added as you settled against his strong chest, his heartbeat a bit more steady against you now. "That you make a very comfortable seat."

"That's two."

"First one was free," you say, resting your head against his shoulder.

He was quiet for a long moment, just the two of you wrapped in each other under the stars.

"I'm thinking..." his arms wrapped around your waist, his hands finding yours so you could intertwine them. "That I clearly need to get you some new socks, your feet are freezing!"

He was clad in nothing but his underwear, you only now realized, and you had instinctively wrapped your legs around his, seeking any kind of warmth you could find. There wasn't a full sleep set between the two of you.

You couldn't help but laugh, even if this wasn't how you'd hoped the conversation would go, at least it was a conversation. "You know I hate sleeping with socks on, that's not fair."

"Slippers than," he conceded.

You intentionally brushed your cold feet up the side of his leg. "Fuzzy ones. And only if they're bright pink."

"Ridiculous," he huffed, "but if you insist."

"I want them to look like cats too."

"Pink cats?"

"Pink cats."

"Pink cats it is then."

You grinned at that. "We can go to the Rainbow tomorrow for them?"

"First thing in the morning," he promised as he settled his chin on your shoulder.

"We should go for breakfast. There's a new bakery on the Sidra. Well, new as in neither of us have been there, it's technically been open for awhile."

"You didn't go?"

You two had met in a bakery in Illyria, had fought over the last chocolate croissant until the shop owner had kicked both you out for scarring the other customers, it had become something of a weekly tradition to find which shop in Velaris had the best ones since. "I was waiting for you."

The arms around your middle squeezed a little tighter.

"I have a list of things for us to do, actually. A lot changed and I thought if, maybe I kept making a list it gave the Mother a reason to bring you back to me." It felt stupid, now that you'd said it aloud that you had hoped depriving yourself of a chocolate croissant would somehow force the Mother to bring your mate home, but you had been desperate, you weren't always thinking clearly.

Rhys nuzzled into the side of your neck. "Thank you, for waiting." You knew him well enough to know he wasn't talking about the bakery or the croissants.

"I would have waited a thousand years for you," you whispered.

"That's a long time without chocolate croissants," he teased.

"They're worth the wait," you replied, hoping he knew you well enough to know you weren't talking about croissants either.

He merely hummed understandingly as he settled against your shoulder, his breathing evening out against your back. You relished in the rise and fall of his chest, of his warm breath against your throat. He was alive, he was here, he'd made it home.

"What else is on this list of yours?"

"There's a new dinner cruise around the Sidra, an art exhibit in the Rainbow, three new plays," you counted them off on your fingers, trying to remember all of them now. Sleep was beginning to beckon again, your eyes heavy, speech slowing. "The Night Orchestra is coming back into town, you missed them twice. There's a new ice cream shop to try..." there was something else, but your mind was growing hazy. A yawn escaped you.

Rhys tried to stand, but you grabbed frantically at his wrists. "I'm ok. Wanna stay here with you."

He settled back against the roof, laying back now with you tucked into his side. The blanket had gotten twisted between the two of you, doing little to keep out the bite of the roof tiles. You didn't care.

"Oh! There's a new place that sells some lacy things I think you'd like," you mumbled as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck and breathed in deep.

"For you or me?" He teased.

"For you to rip off of me," you said.

He kissed your temple, "We'll definitely have to stop there then."

You were trying your hardest to keep your eyes open, really you were, but they were growing heavier and heavier, the stars over head blurring in your vision. Maybe you had been wrong to stop wishing on them, despite all your pain, your mate had still returned to you, that dream had still been answered.

"We're gonna be ok, you know," You murmured into his neck.

"You think so?" He whispered.

"I'll wish it onto every star I see until it's answered," you vowed.

Rhys gripped you a little tighter, you gripped him back, eyes drifting shut fully now.

"Maybe I'll start making wishes again too," he said in your ear. You hoped, as you drifted off, that the stars heard him and would answer this wish too.

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader fluff #rhysand acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #rhysand fic #fanfiction #writing #a little hurt/comfort for my other depressed bitches

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 4 months ago

Note

I am fucking WEAK for the Anselem-Reader-Blue throuple, I’ve never even seen either movies (just clips) but I am so obsessed that they’re just addicted to each other and Blue is the subbiest sub to ever sub and they’re not letting him out of their sight ugh I want him to just abandon it all and stay in their mansion as their free use little baby boy

Hzshdasudihasiodu ahhhh! Thank you so much, you have made my day!

Also: HELL YES. Here are some:

Trine Headcanons

Anselm Volgelweide x F!Reader x Blue Jones • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist • ao3 • want to be tagged? | requestinfo • ko-fi •

Warnings: Blue being a little shit, mentions of bjs, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 524

Blue spends more and more (and more) time with Anselm and you, literally he’s practically moved it. (And put his stuff everywhere.)

He is terrible with boundaries, something’s in the house? Oh, that’s his. Food in the fridge? Must be his too. Clothing in the wardrobe, not in his size, with a post stick note on it that says ‘This is not Blue’s’? That must be a typo, because he’s taking it to the tailor. And it’s his now as well.

You resort to a water spray bottle, and spray him whenever he’s getting too excitable with all the new things he’s ‘found’.

He’s a cat in human form.

Takes to wearing a silk robe that is a fraction too short for most polite company (good thing you and Anselm are nowhere near polite) and flouncing around the mansion being a nuisance to your staff and begging for (demanding) attention from both you and Anselm every chance he gets.

Wakes up one morning and realises he hasn’t been to the club in over two weeks. Panics. And then calms down when you play with his hair while Anselm deep throats him, and tell him that you’d sent a stand in manager to keep an eye on things for him ages ago.

Blue never worries about the club again.

You take him on holiday with you both and he acts like a spoilt brat the whole time, making an absolute fuss of everything when he’s with Anselm - so Anselm will punish him. And being the sweetest little angel for you - so you’ll call him a good boy and let him sit on your lap during dinner.

Always ends up sleeping between you both, even if you all fall asleep with someone else in the middle. It’s not an intentional thing, and none of you are quite sure how it happens like clockwork and without waking anyone up. Anselm calls it one of Blue’s many party tricks.

Blue gets very self conscious and moody when someone else makes the assumption that he is either Anselm’s or your piece on the side. “Not both?” The outrage is so strong.

He has a reputation for being even more dangerous now that he has the Vogelweide backing, and because Anselm hired a guard for Blue whose only job is to shoot people Blue tells him to shoot. (He doesn’t like getting his hands dirty.)

When Anselm is in his office taking meetings and you’re hanging out on the chaise lounge to the side Blue likes to sit on the floor next to you.

Both you and Anselm have tried to convince him to let you get either a bigger chaise lounge or any other seat for him, but he refuses. Preferring to recline, rather dramatically, on the floor with his head tilted back and resting against the chaise lounge seat cushions so you can play with his hair and stroke his face.

Quite often hugs your leg and kisses your knees if they are within reach.

Has sucked off Anselm under his desk while he’s in the middle of a meeting more than once - and isn’t subtle about it.

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

@romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho

@steven-grants-world @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie

@silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom

@alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @soft-girl-musings @spxctorsslxt

@novarosewood

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

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screechingfromthevoid · 3 months ago

Text

@disastertourwaterdeepedition

Sorry for the weird fucking post but like tumblr straight up ate your ask?? I had to search and screenshot from my email??

Its like super fine I love big rants and big feelings (especially about the blorbo of the month).

Whoa buddy if you wanna talk about a rant. This got so long I'm putting it under a read more.

I'm not sure any of this is above board conscious thought process. When he looks to Orym, when he thinks about how he feels about Orym, I think Dorian, king of compartmentalizing, gets a rush of all three of the things in the post. He gets a little too lost in thought looking at the way Orym's hair now tries to curl against his ear or how well tailored the armor is to his body, he first gets hit with the Will guilt. Then he thinks about "ohmygodtheresawaron" and he'd shovel all of that down. Because its not time to think about Orym and him. But he knows by the way Orym watches him "sleep". He knows by the way Orym refused to be princess carried in Aeror. (Seriously dude Dorian princess carries everyone. It would have been less suspicious if you let it happen). He knows because Orym didn't see his husband when they were in Zephrah. But when he dares himself to actually think about a possible future together, he uses the big three to shove it down. And no, he has no clue that Orym thinks he doesn't return his feelings. (Wow you're right. Pronouns are hard)

Lol to finally answer your question: I'm not sure! Because the thing is! Orym has gone down twice in a battle with Dorian there! And honestly if Orym being on death's door doesn't make either of them confess, i'm not sure what will! (thats a lie I do have an idea). But like Orym went to the moon and back and almost died on the moon and all the count communicate to Dorian was "I miss you"!! Orym nearly died twice in one battle and he didn't think to give Dorian a sloppy, "If I die again I want to have kissed you once" kiss before going in for another round of getting hacked on. Dorian watched him go down and had to bring him back from death's door (one failed save scared the shit out of me) and he didn't think to give Orym a "We need you, I need you" kiss.

My unfortunate thought process, which I can't decide if I want it to come true or not, is that Dorian has to get hurt. Like when I say hurt I fucking mean it. Taken down in a round or two, two failed death saves, hurt. Because then Orym will have to face losing Dorian again. Face losing the man he loves, again. He pours a healing potion into Dorian's mouth because warlocks don't have a single healing spell. (Just checked). Orym feels so helpless in saving Dorian, because a healing potion isn't nearly enough to keep him up. He starts to cry over Dorian's (now conscious) body. He whispers between sobs "Not again, not again. Dorian you can't leave me. I love you, please, I never got to tell you, please stay alive." and Dorian, having heard all of that, reaches up to cup Orym's cheek and says. "Alright, just for you though."

Or something like that.

As much as I would love for them to be adults and just talk to each other. I know thats not going to happen. (Please, Robbie, Liam, prove me wrong.) So I think major tragedy will be the reason they confess to each other. Because they're idiots in love with a lot of weight on their shoulders.

#sleep drunk stage door #orym of the air ashari #dorian storm #dorym #written before watching 106 #these two are going to be the death of me #i was thinking about DORIAN DYING all the way home from work #almost cried a few times #but like the thing is with these two idiots is that theyre both hell insecure #maybe not with each other in a way that makes them avoid each other. but orym defo does not think he deserves dorian #in whatever way you want to take that the answer is yes for all of it.#and dorian is insecure in the way that i dont know if he expects orym to get over will for him #he doesnt doubt that orym loves him. and he'd never blame him for still loving will. but dorian doesnt think hes worthy enough.#or that hes worth the effort of moving on #does any of this make sense? I was up too early and worked hard today #so sorry if this is a rambling mess.#i feel like i didn't answer your question i filled out a writing prompt.#my b #i like hearing myself talk if you couldnt tell #certified yapper

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alocon · 8 months ago

Text

A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be [8] - Max Verstappen

written by alocon

Note: Name and Part One based on the song A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be by Jess Benko.

Summary: Mini chapter. When the FIA tries to stop you driving at the next grand prix weekend, the drivers decide to take a drastic, but necessary, turn to stand up for you.

Before you read: Use of Y/N

fc: Blanca Soler

[Previous Part] [Masterlist]

A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be- - MV¹ x Fem!OC

“So, question for Y/N.”

You were currently sat in the interviews before the next race, in a press conference with you, Lance, Zhou, Logan and Nico. You had been expecting this question when it came but had not expected it only 3 minutes into the questions.

“We hear you're under investigation by the FIA, would you like to expand on that and what you are under investigation for?”

“Yes,” you sat up in your seat, more than happy to speak. “I have been put under investigation for creating a hostile work environment since 2019. Apparently, I have been acting hostile towards Christian Horner, despite the fact its more like the other way around.” You shrugged.

“Right.” The interviewer shrugged. “And how might this affect your driving?”

“Well, pending the results of the investigation, they may, as a punishment, revoke my super licence.”

“So let me get this straight,” Crofty said, speaking up. “You're at risk of losing your racing licence because of you allegedly being hostile to the Team Principal of Red Bull Racing since 2019?”

I nodded.

Lance then spoke up. “I think it's suspicious that these rumours suddenly came around just after a podcast episode about some of her treatment at Red Bull and a post of her and Geri together.” He said. “It seems very strangely timed.”

“Almost like they're trying to silence her for Christian's actions.”

The drivers in the conference all started defending you, putting a smile on your face. It was sweet to see them all so defensive over you, instantly jumping to your protection without even being asked their opinions.

“It had been oddly timed.” You said. “All of a sudden, after me putting in a complaint about Christian Horner to the FIA, I was the one under investigation. I think that it's ridiculous to be honest. I provided evidence - more than enough. And yet I am still the one under fire.”

“I hear a lot of drivers and other staff are supporting you.” Crofty said. “Do you have anything to say to that?”

“Yes. I am so grateful for the way that the drivers have treated me, and other staff, both at Mercedes and other teams. I appreciate that they have been defending me to the FIA, and taking a stand with me against the unfair treatment that I have been under by Red Bull and the FIA in the past couple of weeks, and Red Bull since I joined.”

“So are you still racing this weekend?”

“No. They've told me I'm not allowed to race until the investigation is over.” you explained, frustrated.

The rest of the press conference went well and, soon, you were back in your drivers room and soon heard the door open. You looked up, seeing the drivers slip into your room. All of them.

“We're here to take your mind off of all the bullshit going on. So. We have fifa, Uno, monopoly, Mario Kart, we got your switch so you can play animal crossing if you want,” Lando began to list off everything.

You chuckled, smiling sweetly at them at the kind kind actions of going out of their ways to try to cheer you up. So that's what happened. You all sat on the floor talking, playing games, chilling out and discussing how to sort this out when Charles came up with an idea.

“A strike.”

“A what?” You looked at the Monegasque, confused at the sudden outburst.

“We could go on strike. Refuse to race until Horner is gone and the investigation is dropped.”

There were some cheers from the drivers.

“Guys. What?” You said when you saw the agreements. “You don't have to do this.” you said.

“Let's vote then.” Charles said. “All in favour?” 19 hands went up. “All against?... Then it is decided.”

After some planning, it was in order.

El Plan (2025 Driver's Strike edition)

Step One: Pack our stuff.

You all got to work, packing out bags, everything we needed.

Step Two: Prepare the vehicles.

That went by quickly too.

Step Three: Tell Our Team Principals

You walked into the emergency meeting with George and Toto, sitting down.

“What's this about? What's going on?” He asked, confused.

“We're going on Strike,” George announced.

“You're doing what?”

“This wasn't my idea,” you started. “But one of the drivers suggested a full driver Strike. Because of the investigation.”

George started explaining the details. The plan. Afterwards, there was a moment of silence.

“Fair enough,” Toto said. “I wouldn't be able to stop you and to be honest, I don't even want to. I don't want you losing your seat, Y/N. Go wild. Have fun. Call me when you're off strike and keep me updated, yes?” He said. You and George looked at each other, surprised it went so well.

Over in the Red Bull office, it wasn't going as well.

“You're doing what?” Christian snapped, angrily.

“Going on strike.” Max leant back in his chair.

“Until the investigation is dropped, we will not race.”

“This is insane! What is wrong with you?” He snapped angrily. “You shouldn't do it if you want your contract renewed, Max.”

“I'm sure there are other teams who would happily take me,” He said standing up, walking straight out the door without another word, being quickly followed by his teammate.

Step Four: Announce the Strike.

“Right, hello,” Crofty said, looking at the camera. “So, we've got a sudden broadcast request from the drivers so… that's what is happening here.”

Bernie spoke up. “We have no idea what this is about. Take it away.”

Your designated speakers - Charles and Max - stepped up to take the mics.

Max got up his script. “Today, Charles suggested something and we did a vote, getting back unanimous agreement.”

“All of the drivers on the current Formula One grid will be going on strike. None of us will drive until our demands are met.” Charles paused before speaking again. “Demand Number One: The investigation on the Mercedes-AMG Petronas driver, Y/N L/N, is dropped. The treatment she has received from both Red Bull and the FIA recently, and since 2019, has been absolutely unacceptable. They are trying to silence her and stop her from racing, so if she can not race, we will not race.” He looked at Max, nodding for him to read the next demand.

Max smiled, looking at the camera. “Deman Number Two: Christian Horner is removed as the team principal of Red Bull Racing indefinitely and an investigation is opened on Red Bull, Christian, and the head of the FIA. I should've stood up for the treatment of Y/N back in the day, and I didn't. But I will do it now. The treatment she had endured was something I would never wish on a driver. The constant hours of berating her for doing her job, and blackmailing her by threatening to reveal that she miscarried are unacceptable and they, Christian especially, should be taken into account.”

“We want to make it clear that this was not the decision or suggestion of Y/N L/N. This was entirely my suggestion, and all of the drivers instantly agreed. Do not send her hate for this. We will ensure that anyone who has attended any races or paid to attend any of the races get compensated somehow, and we will ensure that every single person who has paid to attend the races gets an apology that it has had to go this far. Action will not be taken until we make a drastic move, so this is our drastic move.” Charles then said his final sentence. “None of us will drive until our demands are met.” Charles repeated again.

-word count: around 1,300-

Hi All!!

Hope you're well. Here is a mini chapter for the Max story. Expect some drivers' strike chapters soon. This is unedited. Love you all x

Have a good day

Alocon

Taglist: @c-losur3 @itsjustkhaos @reidsworld @d3kstar @casperlikej

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subwaytostardew · 8 months ago

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youtube

▽ Subway to Stardew - Adoptable Joltik ⚡️

This would play after Emmet's 8 heart event and getting Joltik up to 8 hearts as well.

I released a separate mod specifically for adopting Joltik, so you only need to get them up to 8 hearts to adopt them! You can do it right now!

Adoptable Joltik Mod Link: https://www.nexusmods.com/stardewvalley/mods/21002

And of course... Commentary under the read-more.

Joltik's adoption event sat in the drafts for quite a while. It took me whole a day to implement and I didn't let myself sleep until I finished everything. (It's 1 PM now...)

The event ended up wildly different because of how extra custom pets are implemented. You would think that they would be added in the same way as you get your cat/dog that you select during character creation. No. You have to buy a license. Only Marnie is authorized to sell them.

Here's the original script for Joltik's adoption event:

[Joltik Adoption Event]

Emmet: @! Joltik likes you verrrrry much. They want to stay with you. I'm letting you adopt them. Yup. I filled out all the paperwork. The Joltiks are legally documented now.

I never gave ours a name... Galvantula wouldn't let me. She is verrrry picky about it. But that's okay. Joltik is yours. You should name them. She came along for approval. So. What name should I put on the adoption form?

[Name input box like Marnie's adoption thing...]

[Galvantula pauses for a moment to think and then offhandedly agrees.]

Emmet: Galvantula didn't shock me for that. That name is okay. Yup. I will file that with the Ferngill Republic. Don't worry about it. Make sure you take verrrry good care of our little Joltik!

[Joltik jumps and heart emotes]

◇──◆──◇──◆

The whole naming portion was a source of much more frustration than it should have been. In events, the name input box is brought up by the "catQuestion" command (which applies to dogs chosen at the start, too...

If you refuse, then Marnie also shows up no matter what you do. Farmhouse positions are also tricky and made even harder to find reference for after 1.6 added the farmhouse being moveable. Joltik kept spawning where Emmet was supposed to be so I had to use a move command just to get them to spawn one tile to the side. Galvantula was fine. I didn't get to updating her vanilla portraits yet so she's staying quiet.

The catQuestion command also only adds the pet you pick during character creation. There's no fields to target the usage. You have to buy a license. It's the only way to get another pet. I didn't want Joltik to replace a cat either since in-story you would have to earn the trust of both Emmet and Galvantula... There's no way you can do that by the first 25 days of spring. It's immersion breaking and you lose a cat.

I did find the license aspect funny though. It was oddly fitting for the mod's lore of Pokemon being pretty much banned from the region. Emmet is a threat to Stardew Valley's ecosystem. Not the best guy for the task of combating anti-Pokemon xenophobia.

Pet sizes are apparently hardcoded so I had to make a new spritesheet for Joltik as if they even need a 32 x 32 pixel area per frame. I did end up making new sprites for them while I was at it. I tried to base it off of the cat's behaviors so I have less animation fields to edit (I was tired). The cat loafs a lot. Trying to convey that in a tiny spider posed quite the challenge.

After everything was done, I figured that the whole adoption portion of the mod could easilly be taken apart to be its own mod as a demo of sorts for the expansion. So I went and made a content pack to post.

Bringing up your starter pet's friendship level takes quite some time, so it would be awkward if I let the event play with no preconditions. Because of that, I ended up including Joltik as an NPC and locking their adoption behind their heart level.

We actually only had two lines per day of the week (not including season) for daily dialogue. That shot up to six lines per day of the week for a full 0-2-4-6-8-10 in spring because I was determined to publish a mod. (I've been modding for nearly a year nonstop and I don't have anything playable... humiliating...)

Anyways! I hope you're all having fun with 1.6! It certainly brought new challenges and opportunities to the modding scene!

▷ Station Steward Thylak

#subway to stardew #submas #stardew valley #pokemon #joltik #sdv mods #subway to stardew terminal station

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spinningwebsandtales · 1 year ago

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Imagine Jason Holding Your Hand While You Struggle To Walk Beside Him

Jason Voorhees X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Mentions of death, blood, abuse, bodily injuries

Word Count: 940

(A/N:) Happy Friday the 13th sick things! I'm here to bring your boy Jason as a favor to my friend! She loves the franchise and this masked slasher! Guess he's her equivalent to my Michael Myers. I had to write something for her and I really wanted to post it today because duh! So hopefully this will make the other Jason Voorhees fangirls happy! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Your parents had forced you into being a camp counselor at the newly reopened Camp Crystal Lake. Despite your protests at having to spend summer with cruel students you went to school with, you were shipped off and left to fend for yourself. It didn't take long until the horrible things that they did to you during the school year began to happen at the camp. It didn't matter how many times you told the overseers of the camp, your dilemmas fell on deaf ears. Two days into your camp stay and you escaped to your cabin and refused to come out. You locked the door, letting the pleas of the staff go ignored. Thankfully your mother had packed you snacks, so you had no reason to leave.

That second night you had been holed up everything changed. You had fallen asleep, the sounds of night bugs filling the silence until a scream pierced the air. You jolted awake, a shiver going down your spine. Several moments passed as you tried to steady your breathing, your mind chalking it up to the others trying to get you to come out of your cabin. Laying back down you tried to go back again, when another scream froze your blood. You could hear thundering footsteps as the door to your cabin began to shake. One of the counselors beat upon the door, pleading for you to let them in.

"Haven't you tortured me enough," you shouted pulling your blankets over your head. "Go prank someone else!"

Another scream as a machete pierced through the wood of your cabin door and blood splattered across the frosted glass. You choked back a scream, trying to keep as quiet as possible, praying that whoever on the other side would go away. No such luck as the door shattered letting in the attacker. You shook violently at the giant of a man standing before you. Your eye had been blackened from your fellow counselors throwing rocks at you and the palms of your hands had scabbed over where they had tripped you on the gravel.

"Please," you whimpered. "Don't hurt me."

Though he didn't treat you the same as the now dead girl on the ground in front of your cabin, he didn't just leave you alone. You found yourself walking beside the tall killer through the camp that now was stained with the blood of his victims. Your legs felt like jello as you tried to think of some way to get away. He put a hand at the small of your back, trying to be careful of your bruises. No one had treated you so gently but you really didn't want to go into the woods. He was adamant as he pushed you further. How he could see you didn't know as the moon was hidden by the dense foliage of the trees and small bushes. Sticks cracked under your bare feet and despite his large size he stalked through the darkness in absolute silence. You tripped over roots, sticks snagging on your hair, and thorns scratching up your already battered face. He patiently waited for you to catch up, never letting you fall too far behind. The further in the woods you got, the more exhausted you became until every step you took you were tripping. You couldn't see your hand in front of your face and the terror was beginning to swallow you.

The adrenaline you had before was keeping you going, but now that wore out and you were exhausted. You watched the large man disappear in a thick brush. Letting out a relieved breath you hoped that your luck was finally beginning to change. That didn't last long as he returned not seconds later. Seeing you on the ground he slipped the rusted bloodstained machete under his belt and holding out a scarred and bloody hand. You reclined away from his hand. He grunted wiping his hand on his stained pants before reaching out again. He wasn't going to leave so you gave in, placing your much smaller hand in his large palm. He pulled you upwards, getting you back steady on your feet before starting forward again. A few steps in and you noticed that he hadn't released your hand. It was much easier to walk and keep up with him as long as he held your hand tightly. The coolness of his skin against your warmth was a pleasant contrast it had you shivering.

You lost track of the time and how long you had been walking before exhaustion once again nipped at your heels. Despite him leading you, you were beginning to falter once again.

"I'm tired," you mumbled.

Wordlessly and in one motion you were lifted and held in this stranger's arms. He carried you tenderly making sure no branches snagged in your hair or struck your face. He seemed tireless as he pressed forward. Though he hadn't said a word or made any sort of motions to harm you, it had been the nicest you'd ever been treated. The horrors at the camp, not just from his killing spree, seemed to melt away as exhaustion overtook your body. You fell asleep in his arms as he kept walking forward with a purpose. Thoughts of what everyone would think with you missing was at the back of your mind until you were swallowed by sleep. You couldn't bring yourself to worry as you finally felt safe at last, you melted into his embrace and let yourself be carried away. The unknown before you vast and uncharted, but maybe it would be better. Time would only tell.

#Jason Voorhees X Reader #Jason Voorhees / Reader #Jason Voorhees #Friday The 13th #Jason Voorhees Imagine #Friday The 13th Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing

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hihelloheyhowdy · 2 years ago

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They Don't Know About the "I Love You"s (Nagi x reader)

In which pro athlete!Nagi is discovered to be in a relationship with you, and refuses to deny it.

Nagi's publicist always told him what to do, who to talk to, and how to act. He felt like aside from constantly having to keep up with his 'genius' soccer plays, he also had to keep an act that'll allow him his career.

Football had become one of the very few things that brought him passion, and the ability to make a more than steady income from something he enjoyed. However he found himself hating being in the spot light.

One thing that he looked forward to was coming home to you at the end of the day, and sitting there as you ran your hand through his hair whispering a 'you did good today' or 'I'm proud of you'. It was moments like those where he felt himself keeping pushing forward despite becoming tired of it all.

When Reo's on his ass about practice, when everyone is complaining about how his goals were no longer as 'genius' as they should be, when the crowd seems to find him not entertaining enough, it all fades to nothing in your presence.

Because you're the only one who never wants anything from Nagi. All you've ever asked for in exchange for all your understanding and affection, is that in return. The most beautiful part about it, is that loving you came easy to Nagi.

He was willing to put in 'work', but he rarely felt that it made him tired. In fact every moment spent with you feels like tons of weights have been lifted off of him. You know Nagi, and you've seen him at his worst yet you still found it in you to love him.

So he couldn't stand there, and let you simply take the pressure that the public suddenly threw at you. An article came out of the two of you on a picnic date in the park. It was titled 'Star Footballer Nagi Seishiro Not As Single As He Lets On?"

It sickened him to his stomach when he saw people saying that you weren't 'attractive enough', or seemed to not be 'good enough' to be dating him according to their standards.

It couldn't be further from the truth. In Nagi's eyes you were gorgeous, and if anything he didn't deserve you. Always putting up with him when he was unmotivated, or snapped at you for no reason at all.

When you'd seen the article didn't think anything of it, but people quickly were able to identify you. Millions of dms and commented flooded in, and not all of them were sweet. You tried to ignore them, but with so many it was hard until you went on private.

The next morning you'd woken to having been tagged in a post made by Nagi last night a million times. It was a photo from that picnic date, one where he was kissing your cheek. There was a caption under it, and it read 'more than perfect for me, i love you'.

You felt your heart swell as you smiled as you looked down to the Nagi sleeping soundly next to you. You ran a hand softly through his hair as he seemed to lean into your touch. You whisper out a small 'I love you' into the air, even though he couldn't hear.

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nocasdatsgay · 1 year ago

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From the Ashes, The Wildflowers Grow

Chapter 1: Family

Word Count: 2675

CW: IDK a baby? None

Chapter Summary: Eris and his wife, Celeste, hold a family get-together to introduce their new child.

Also read it on A03 Here

MasterPost and full fic summary here

First time posting chapters on tumblr AND ao3 so comments, likes, etc are welcome and appreciated.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Waiting in his chambers with his mother, Eris felt the wards break. He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and watched the magic simmer. He then watched as they immediately repaired themselves.

“Your son is here,” he said, with a sigh to his mother. He stood from his chair. “Dramatic as ever.”

Not even a moment later, the doors to the chambers opened. No knock; his brother never knocked. There was a squeal of a female and golden blonde hair rushing to him.

“Eris,” Elain said, hugging him. Eris took a moment to realize what happened and hug her back. She pulled away and looked towards his mother. She gasped. “Is that the baby?”

“Good to see you Elain,” he said with a slight chuckle.

She left him quickly with her lilac dress twirling around her feet, and went to the couch his mother occupied. She murmured her greetings and his mother handed her the babe swaddled in a green blanket. Elain sat beside her and he could hear his daughter’s little grunts from being shuffled around.

“Oh Eris, she’s beautiful.”

Eris felt another presence beside him. “Where’s your wife?”

He looked toward his brother. Eris was surprised to see him in a tunic and trousers, and not in day court attire. Coupled with Elain’s dress that meant they must have come from Spring.

“She’s napping. I’d rather not wake her. She refuses to rest. So when she does, I don’t disturb her.”

“Sounds like Celeste.” Lucien walked over to his mate.

“You know you can't keep breaking the wards, Lucien.” Eris crossed his arms. “You’ll start a war because you’re too lazy to walk in.”

“I keep telling him that,” Elain said. “But he doesn’t listen.”

Lucien himself replied by dismissively waving a hand and giving his mother a hug. He then peered down at the bundle in Elain’s arms. “Oh thank the cauldron, she looks like her mother.”

“Careful,” Eris frowned. His mother didn’t suppress her laugh.

Lucien only smiled at him. “Have you named her yet?”

Eris didn’t answer him. He heard familiar footsteps to his right and tried not to scowl as his wife rounded the corner. She had changed into a red knit sweater and brown trousers. He was at least happy she didn’t feel the need to put on something more formal. Her brown hair looked hurriedly put into a bun, loose strands framing her face. The dark rings were still under her eyes. He wanted to tell her to go back to bed but he knew not to argue in front of family. She gave them all a smile and Lucien walked over to her to hug her.

“I was just telling your husband what a blessing your child looks just like you,” he teased.

“I heard,” she replied with a little yawn. “But she does have his hair.”

“She’s beautiful, Celeste.” Elain told her with a smile.

Celeste said her thanks while Lucien stepped back and looked her over. Eris glared but didn’t say anything. He knew it was ridiculous, but he refused to feel guilty for being jealous and protective. Even if they’d been married for nearly a century.

Lucien frowned, “Eris was right, you still need rest. You look absolutely terrible.”

“Lucien,�� his mother hissed from the couch.

Eris didn’t bother to cut his eyes to his brother. Celeste smacked him on the arm for the both of them. Eris chuckled when he saw Elain, still holding the babe, glared over for a brief moment before schooling her features.

“Elain, come get your mate,” she laughed. “It’s been over a week. I’m fine.”

“She refuses to let me help,” Eris interjected. Celeste rolled her eyes. “It’s the truth. I practically have to steal my own child to bond with her.”

“Now that is a lie if I ever heard one,” Celeste came over and took his hand. “If I’m not holding her, he is. Edith said it would spoiler her.”

“Nonsense,” his mother replied. “She’s always said that. What she didn’t tell you is when she was my healer, she coddled every single one of my boys.”

Celeste grinned. “I think she says it mostly because Eris also takes her to all his meetings even if she’s sleeping.”

He brought her hand up and kissed the tops of her knuckles. He held her gaze tightly. “How can I not? I love to show off your work.”

Lucien made a gagging noise. “Please get a room.”

“These are our rooms,” Celeste replied.

Eris pulled her to him and kissed her cheek, then her lips. He was very pleased with the way she hummed in response, kissing him back.

“Disgusting,” Lucien grumbled.

Elain, ever the polite one, changed the topic. “Did you name her?”

Celeste pulled away, and turned towards her. “We have.” She looked back at Eris.

She asked him a silent question and he nodded. He saw the brief sadness in her eyes and he gripped her hand tight. He knew it would be hard for her, especially with Lucien present, but he stood by her decision when she asked before the baby was born.

He watched her look over to Lucien. Her voice cracked a little when she said, “Her name is Andrea.”

Realization washed over Lucien and his eyes widened. He looked to Eris but Eris only shrugged. Their mother, who had been watching quietly, stood and went to Lucien, squeezing his arm. Elain looked confused.

“That’s a lovely name,” their mother replied.

Celeste let go of Eris’s hand and she went to Elain to retrieve their child. “She’s named after Andras,” she said softly to her. “He was a dear friend,” she turned to Lucien. “A very dear friend to the both of us back in Spring. He gave his life for us to be free. I wanted to honor him.”

Lucien was still eyeing Eris. “And you’re fine with that?”

Eris glowered. “She could have named her Tamlin and I would be fine with it. Truly Lucien, that’s the first comment you want to make?”

Celeste thankfully took no offense and laughed. “Would you let me name your child after my former high lord?”

Eris bristled a little at the reminder. “You labored for two days, as long as it wasn’t Morrigan I was fine with anything.” He swore he heard Elain snort at that remark.

Lucien nodded and looked him over with a grin. “Just checking. You are the jealous type. But I should have guessed Celeste gets whatever she wants.”

Eris only looked to his beautiful wife again, holding their child. He didn’t bother to change his expression into something other than the adoration he felt. “You say that as if it’s a terrible problem to have.”

Another knock came to the door. His other brothers, Piran, Asher, and Cillian filed into the room; followed by Celeste’s mother.

“These three were loitering in the halls,” she stated with great humor before curtsying towards Lucien, Elain, and his mother. “Something about how my daughter’s husband would murder them if they woke her.”

Eris didn’t hide his grin. “I can’t fathom where they heard such an outlandish story.”

“Eris,” Celeste shuffled the babe in her arms so she could smack his arm gently.

“It was kinder for me to kill them if they woke you than to let them suffer your wrath.” Eris retorted. “Everyone in this room knows you’re a monster to wake up.”

Celeste scoffed, dramatically looked very offended. “You wound me deeply.”

Piran stepped around them to greet Lucien and Elain. “Good to see you both.” He turned his head to Lucien. “You keep breaking the wards, Lucien and I’m going to have you banned from Autumn again.”

“I repaired them, didn’t I?” Lucien replied.

“Boys,” their mother said with a tone of warning. “Lucien, promise to your brothers you will stop breaking the wards.”

“You treat me as if I’m a youngling.” He rolled his eyes.

Asher spoke up from near the door. “That’s because you act like one.”

Everyone laughed, including Elain, which made Lucien scowl. She finally cut him a look and he replied. “Fine, I promise I won’t break the wards again.”

Cillian said from beside Asher, “this room is a bit crowded. We came to fetch you all.”

They all filed out the chamber and Eris took Andrea from his wife. He still wasn’t used to it; holding the little being the cauldron blessed them with. She was still so new to the world, for any stark features to truly stand out other than the red hair, pale skin, and her blue eyes. Her little face scrunched as she settled in his arms while he walked down the hall. He smiled down at her for a moment and glanced at his wife walking beside him. He’d probably never understand what he’d done to earn this kind of happiness.

They all reached the conference room that was refurbished as a sitting lounge several decades ago. Once Andrea was placed in the cradle, he sat with his brothers to continue talking. Even Lucien joined them. Eris would never admit how much that meant to him. His mother and Celeste’s mother were off to one side chatting. They offered to sit close to the cradle to keep an eye on the baby. Elain and Celeste went to the far side of the room. Eris could hear his wife talking, catching bits of gossip from Spring and how Elain was bullying the Tamlin into letting her redo the flowerbeds during her visits. He did catch the shift in Elain’s tone that had him worried for only a moment.

“I started that book you sent me. You are just as terrible as my sister,” Elain said. He could see the blush on her face from his seat. “You did not warn me about chapter 33. You told me it wasn’t that bad.”

Celeste laughed loudly. “It’s not! But if that made you blush, then skip 40. It’s nothing but-”

He instantly knew exactly what they were discussing and immediately blocked them out. His wife’s reading habits was something he decided a long time ago was none of his business. He glanced over and his gaze caught Lucien’s. Apparently he was doing the same thing, from the look he shared. Eris bit back his laugh and focused on what his other brothers were saying. It wasn’t long before a knock came to the door, stifling the conversations in the room.

Rowen, the captain of the guard, poked his head in. “Lord Helion is here. Shall I escort him in?”

Eris looked at his brothers. Unspoken words were exchanged between them with a look and Eris stood.

“I’ll go.” When he got to the door, he looked at Rowen and nodded to the room. “Go in and visit.”

Rowen looked at him skeptically. He ran a nervous hand through his dark hair. “Are you sure?”

“You’re family, aren’t you?” He patted his friend’s shoulder. “Go meet the baby. You haven’t even seen her yet.”

Eris understood his hesitation. Rowen was a good leader but very reserved. Asher was always the more outgoing one and Rowen gladly let his husband take on those responsibilities. He watched Rowen stare into the room for a moment. He then gave Eris a nod and went through the door. He took a shortcut to the main hall and found Helion waiting near the front entrance.

“Afternoon Helion.” His greeting was short. Even after all the time that passed, their relationship was still complicated.

“Eris.” Helion gave a little nod. “Apologies for running late. Congratulations. I know your mother is excited to have a new youngling around.”

As if summoned, footsteps echoed in the hall. Eris turned to see his mother and wife walking towards them, his wife holding their daughter.

“You look well.” Helion said to Celeste as they approached.

Celeste scoffed. “Don’t flatter me, Helion. Lucien’s already told me I look worse for wear.”

He frowned. “Did he?”

Eris replied with a little pride, “she handled it.”

Helion cut his eyes to Eris’s mother, who nodded. He looked back to Celeste. “You look like you have a new babe keeping you up at night, but that’s expected. All that considered, you do look well.”

“Eris helps.” Celeste readjusted the baby resting in her arms. “Would you like to hold her? Her name is Andrea.”

Helion nodded and Celeste handed her over to him. He grinned as he took her, part of the blanket falling to the side as she squirmed in his hands. She seemed more awake, her legs shuffling under the white gown they’d dressed her in. Helion cooed a greeting to her and Eris could see her yawn.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” His mother sighed and leaned onto Helion’s arm.

Watching them awe over his child made Eris wonder if somehow, in another life, that would have been how they looked at their own babe. Would that have been how they looked at Lucien? How they would have looked at him? He must have let his emotions show. Celeste slipped her arm around his and took his hand. She weaved her fingers around his own and she squeezed gently. With a blink, he squeezed back.

The moment didn’t last for long, however. Eris knew instantly by the quick little movements his daughter was making that she was about to start screaming. As if on cue, her face scrunched up. Celeste moved first, holding out her arms as Andrea let out a little cry. Helion thankfully wasn’t offended, letting out a soft chuckle.

“And she’s hungry,” Celeste quickly took the wailing babe. She held her close and looked at Eris. “I’m going to feed her and drag out Elain. I left her alone talking with my mother and she was trying to needle out of Elain her cinnamon bread recipe,” she added, making a face.

“I’ll go with you.” His mother told Celeste and stood on her toes to kiss Helion on the cheek.

Eris caught her gaze for a brief moment. He knew she was leaving them alone on purpose. He didn’t hide annoyance on his face. His mother flashed her eyes in a way that told him to behave. Eris crossed his arms. He and Helion turned to watch them retreat for a moment. Eris could taste the awkward silence hanging between them.

Helion finally turned to Eris. “You know you’re welcome at my court, Eris.” Eris could only nod. “I do mean that. Next time Celeste visits, you should join her. I know your mother wants to see more of you. Especially with the baby-“

“I am aware.” Eris finally snapped back. He said it more harsher than he intended to. Helion frowned and Eris continued. “What I mean is, when Andrea is old enough to handle winnowing, I will send notice.”

That softened the Day High Lord’s demeanor. “There is a lot of bad blood between us. I’m not asking for a miracle; I’m merely asking to start making amends. We are family.”

Eris nodded again. He knew he needed to try harder. It had been over a century. He was at least trying. Even if it pained him.

Helion didn’t let the silence lapse for long. “I spoke with your mother and we both agreed there will be Pegasus waiting for her when she’s old enough.”

“That’s hardly necessary,” Eris replied, taken aback.

Helion shrugged, wearing a smirk eerily similar to Lucien’s. “So was giving us two smoke hounds as a mating present.”

Eris rolled his eyes. “Again, hardly. Aspen and Jora missed my mother dearly.”

Helion didn’t seem to buy it but also didn’t further argue. “Shall we?” He asked, looking toward the hall.

“Of course,” Eris nodded.

He told himself one day he would be used to the family he made and acquired, just like he had gotten used to the peace. For the time being, he would try to enjoy it for what it was and accept the happiness the cauldron and Mother granted him.

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disfrutalakia · 1 year ago

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Okay, I had been meaning to write this for awhile and what best time to do it than at 3am in Brazil right?

Anyway, time for me to be ill about Forever which will be under a read more cause you guys know how much I like to ramble.

Okay first of all, I'm specifically talking about Forever post happy pills arc.

When he woke up from his coma he was meet with a bit of chaos, a lot of people were at the order during this time but still Forever managed to thank the people he wanted to and even made promises of "bringing your color back" to Bad they hugged and then he managed to talk with Pac and let him know that for him, Pac is a hero.

After this there is the chaos of the event but Forever is quiet comparing with how he usually his, he takes time to resolve everything and Bagi is found, they go on a walk and he is hit with a frying pan, she tells him she doesn't care about his missing son and he just accepts her words, too deep into his own head to really retaliate. And then, at the end of the day he goes back to the "moon house" and takes his first step towards healing, he breaks stone Richas. Which takes a lot out of him.

The next day when he wakes up he is overjoyed, he sees that his beloved sister is back and maybe, just maybe he could have someone to hear him out, but when he arrives he notices she has been crying and when she says it was because of her knee hurting, he didn't believe her for a second, but didn't want to be push, and then she asked about the drugs she heard about him using and if he was okay and what can he do but say that he will be someday? He can't worry Baghera when she looks so much worse than he does. So his wellbeing is not important.

And then the flower thing, Forever is not someone to show he cares so directly, he knows who he cares about it but he rarely shows it but now? He is making an effort to at least try to cheer up his sad friends with flowers, he wants to investigate Bad to figure out what's going on with him, he wants to bring his colors back, he wants everyone he cares about to be happy again even if he is still screaming from pain inside.

Then that meeting with cucurucho happens, on the old times he used to joke and laugh even during those meetings but not now, now he is tense, his lands probably shake a bit and his voice is carefully crafted to not show much emotions, Cucurucho trusts those pills on his hands again and for a moment, a very brief one he thought about them, thought about how he would let himself become lost in then if Richas was truly dead. Then, he sees old pictures of him and Richas together and he decides against using the pills ever again, he hides then away, under a fireplace so if he ever gets tempted to touch them again, his hands will burn with the fire. But he is keeping them safe to make antidotes with incase shit ever happens again, he refuses to let Pac's work go to waste.

He refuses to not be himself again, to lose his agency like that.

Right now, his only focus is helping his friends who are very not well, he can take care of himself the others are always a priority and they will remain the priority for the rest of his life. His pain being buried deeper and deeper, not cause nobody would be willing to hear it but because he isn't willing to talk about it.

So he tries, he tries to joke and laugh with his friends, to forget the horrible reality but they all can notice how his smile is not really there, how his laugh is a lot more quieter now.

The old Forever is gone, what remains is the most self sacrificial part of himself that would rather putting everyone else's problems before his own.

Because for him, he is nothing without his family.

#qsmp #qsmp forever

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bqstqnbruin · 4 months ago

Text

Matthew Tkachuk Teacher AU

I decided to go with the second option I put even though I'm not sure people read the one I posted 12 hours ago.

Enjoy Matthew and Rory

Teacher AU series

Warnings: None

WC: 1k

_________________________

“Can you take anything seriously?”

“I’m very serious about not being serious.”

Rory leans against her desk, putting her hands in her face and groaning. “Matthew, I swear to god, if you make me do this entire accreditation thing by myself, I’m throwing you out the window.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” Rory glares at him, Matthew’s feet up on one of her classroom desks, throwing a rubber ball he brought from his room in the air. His computer wasn’t even open, despite the fact that everything they needed to do was online. “Relax, this doesn’t even have to be done until next year.”

“No,” Rory says, getting up from her desk and slowly walking towards him, trying not to make any sudden movements like a wildlife photographer trying to get a shot. “We need to have all the documents together so the accreditors can spend the next year going through everything.” She snatches the ball from him mid air, pushing his feet off the desk with her other hand while ignoring her protests.

“Why do we need to be accredited, anyway?”

Rory sits down, letting out another long groan. “It proves we’re a legitimate academic institution so that parents keep sending their kids here and we can keep our jobs.”

Matthew laughs, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve got fall backs.”

“Like what?” she snaps, trying to comb through the Google Drive they were supposed to both be looking at.

“I could be a hockey player.”

Rory laughs, trying to stop once she sees the offense Matthew felt flash across his face. “Sorry, yeah ok, you could totally be a hockey player.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be encouraging people's dreams?”

“I encourage my student’s dreams all the time.” They sit in silence, both of them staring at each other for a moment too long before Rory looks away, telling herself the smile forming on his lips was just her imagination. “Can you please open your computer and help me pick out a good test from the department?”

Matthew listens, but not without making a big deal of it. “Why does it have to be a test? The accreditors want an assessment.”

“Tests are assessments.”

“Projects are also assessments.”

Rory stares at him, knowing that what he was saying was true, despite her refusal to give him the satisfaction of being right. “Ok, then, do we have any good projects?”

“I have my Netflix project.” Rory stares at him again, having no idea what he was talking about. “I give my students this template,” he starts, sending her a link. “They’re assigned one of the major events we talked about during the unit. You know how on Netflix or Hulu, they have a screenshot and a summary under each episode? They have to do that in order to describe the major themes and the timeline of the event itself. It helps them see chronologically what happened, and gives me an idea as to whether or not they can be assessed on it later, or if I need to go back and help them with it.”

Rory’s mouth falls open. “Why didn’t you put that in the drive?”

“I did. You just aren’t the project type of teacher.”

“Hey,” she tries to counter.

“Look, Rory, all the students know that you are a test teacher, not a project teacher. I mean, I don’t blame you, tests are easier to grade, but projects are more fun to have the students do to get them engaged with the material.”

Rory clenched her jaw. “Tests are what I was taught to give as the cumulative assessment. Projects are fine, but that doesn’t cover everything.”

“There are ways to give projects that cover everything.”

“Can we just get through this so we can go home?” Rory snaps.

Matthew holds his hands up in surrender, a smirk on his face that sent a wave of rage through her. She knew the students loved him. He was the ‘fun teacher,’ the one that all the students wanted to have.

But she was a good teacher. Her students got great scores on their AP tests, and her students did better on the final they both had to give at the end of the year for the class they shared. She didn’t need to be fun to get her students to learn.

“There’s nothing wrong with doing things the way they were when we were in school,” she says, begrudgingly dragging his Netflix project into their accreditation folder.

“Did you like school?”

Rory stares at him again. Why was he asking so many questions that caught her off guard? She was so good at anticipating all of her students' questions, so why couldn’t she do the same with his? “Yes.”

“You enjoyed studying for test after quiz and doing homework sheet after reading?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I hated it.” The two of them sat there for a moment, the only sound coming from Rory’s clicking around in the drive. “It wasn’t creative enough. That’s why I give the projects. Students like when you break from what we did or what their parents did because they aren’t their parents, and they definitely aren’t us.”

“That’s for sure,” Rory mutters, taking a drink from her water bottle that had been sitting on her desk.

“Yeah,” Matthew shrugs, standing up from the desk with his laptop still open in his hands. “The students are able to recognize tension between people.”

Rory takes a moment to realize what he means. “We do not have tension,” she lies.

“We do,” he winks, Rory trying to hide the chill she suddenly felt. “I’m just waiting for you to let it break.”

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk au #florida panthers #florida panthers fic #panthers #panthers au #florida panthers au #panthers fic #nhl #nhl fic #nhl au #hockey #hockey fic #hockey au #teacher au

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anxiously-going · 30 days ago

Text

Venom

A draft from my AU in which Bones has a little sister that was assigned to the Enterprise as part of an apprenticeship program because Pike thinks he's funny (he's correct). Pike is also alive in this AU because I refuse to let him go. Takes place post Into Darkness.

It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic meeting to begin negotiations for bringing another planet into the Federation, but things are rarely so simple when Jim is around and what should be a straight forward mission for Paige McCoy's first ground mission quickly becomes a life or death situation.

"Captain!" Paige darted to Jim's side when he began wheezing.

He reached out for her, eyes wide in recognition of what was happening. "Paige-" he tried coughing, but couldn't seem to move the air either way.

"What's happening?" Governor asked.

"He's having an allergic reaction," Paige explained. "Lie down for me, Cap," she ordered and carefully knocked Jim's feet out from under him before he could comply. Once he was down, she quickly took the epipen from his pocket and jabbed him the thigh, causing him cry out. "I know, but it's gonna help," she muttered, massaging the injection point to work the medication into his system.

"What can we do?" He asked and knelt by the doctor and her patient.

"If you have portable oxygen-"

He nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

She pulled open the collar of his uniform open and turned him on his side. He slipped into the familiar recovery position with ease. "Deep breaths now," she advised massaging between his shoulders.

"Supposed to buy me dinner first," he teased, now that he could breathe.

"Shut up! McCoy to Enterprise," she snapped into her communicator.

"We read you."

"I need-" She stopped and swore violently when Jim's eyes suddenly began wheezing, as his airways suddenly closed off again.

His eyes went wide and reached out to the familiar medical blue clad arm.

"Dammit, Jim, you are not gonna die on me!" She snarled and stabbed him with a second hypo. "Get Dr. McCoy with a full medkit down here now!" She ordered to crewmen still listening in. "Tell him the Captain is having a secondary reaction. Epi is ineffective!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Paige carefully pushed him onto his back. "Hang on for me-"

"Called me Jim," he wheezed and seemed to be trying to smile. It might have been endearing if not for bright red splotches taking over his neck and face.

"I did not!" Paige tilted his head back, trying to manually open his airways. She reached for her tricorder and waved it over his chest and face. She swore at the results.

"Paige-" He tried to lift his head to look at her.

"It's gonna be okay. Just keep your head back for me, alright? I put it there for a reason!"

"Dr. McCoy!"

She glanced up to find the Governor running forward with a young man, carrying what looked like an albuterol machine. "That'll work." Snatched the device. "This may be even better," she mumbled when a quick scan of the medication confirmed her suspicion. "Thank you." She had just got the machine going and placed the the mask over his face when Leonard materialized a few feet away.

"What happened?" He demanded, running to his Captain's side. Paige tossed him the tricorder and tore the medkit from his hands.

His eyes went wide. "You're sure about this?"

"You're welcome to double check." She answered as she dug through the kit. "Alright, Cap, just a couple more shots. Hold still for me, alright?" She pressed a hypo to his neck, causing him to flinch. "I know, one more," she soothed, reflexively rubbing the are with her thumb while she dug out the last medication.

She stabbed him for a third time in the thigh. He arched his back, inhaling sharply as the air from the mask finally entered fully into his lungs. "There ya go," she soothed. "You're gonna be alright now. Nice slow breathes for me, alright?"

Jim gave her a weak thumbs up.

"Good work, Dr. McCoy," Leonard nodded and patted her on the shoulder. "The antidote is working. So's the epi now that the venom's been neutralized. It was a good call doing that first."

"Antidote?" Govenor demanded in confusion. "Venom?"

"Captain Kirk had an allergic reaction to a venom-"

Govenor's eyes went wide. "Dr. McCoy-"

"No one is accusing anyone of anything, Govenor." Dr. McCoy held out a placating hand. "We recognize that things that are safe for your species may not be safe for ours. Mistakes happen. I would like to get Captain Kirk up to the Enterprise to finish treatment and make sure he stays stable. Commander Spock is more than capable of continuing the negotiation discussions."

"Yes, of course," Governor nodded. "With the Captain's permission I should also like a copy of his medical report regarding this incident. If it was intentional, we will be doing an investigation. We will also be testing the drink presented to him, if you wish a sample can be sent to your ship as well.

Len glanced at Jim who was nearly unconscious from exhaustion. "I'll talk to him," he nodded. "I have a feeling Commander Spock will request our own tests be done, for the sake of being thorough."

"Of course," he agreed. "It's no offense to us."

---

"You're the only pinhead I know that's been at risk of dying from an allergic reaction to venom over the venom itself," Paige grumbled when she received the alert that the Captain was awake. She let out a breath. "How ya feelin'?"

Jim chuckled. "Like I clipped into another reality. We sure the transporter worked right, Bones?"

Paige rolled her eyes. "Len figured I'd had enough action for the day. Left me up here to babysit you while he and Spock are taking care of things planet side."

"What's damage?"

"Well, the good news is that the Governor wasn't trying to poison you. He still wants to work with us and bring the planet into the Federation. The bad news is someone was trying to poison him. They've already got an investigation going into that, which he insists we don't need to worry about stating 'we've caused you enough trouble as it is'. So naturally Spock offered to help anyway as speeding up their investigation is more time effective at being able to induct the planet yadda yadda yadda." She waved her hand dismissively. "Y-you know how he can be."

Jim snorted. "Now you're really acting like your brother." He reached out and Paige gave him her hand. "Thanks for saving my life, Little Bones."

"That is what you pay me to do. And I worked hard to keep you alive, I don't wanna have wasted all that time and effort, so maybe next time be careful about what you're eating, okay?"

"How thoughtful," he snorted. "Believe me, I know exactly how hard you were working. Probably have bruises from all those epi shots you jabbed me with."

Paige shook her head. "I used the regen while you were out to clear those up."

"Thanks." He pressed the back of his free hand to his mouth and tried to stifle a yawn.

"Get some rest, Captain," Paige said and patted his hand. "You've had a long day."

He mustered up smile, despite the disappointment settling into his chest at the use of his title. "Sure thing, Dr. McCoy. Thanks for takin' care of me."

---

"Can't sleep, Dr. McCoy?"

Paige glanced up from her PADD. "Who let you out of medbay?" She scowled.

"That's really getting to be weird," he chuckled and joined her on the couch. "Bones let me out on the understanding, I'd be coming to see you."

Paige frowned.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier when I got excited about you using my name," he said simply. "It is...something that's important to me, y'know, we're going to be working together a lot. I wanna know...that you're comfortable with me and I know you said before about not wanting to seem insincere and all that. But, I dunno, I was hoping that maybe we were getting there and then you called 'Captain' before you left and..." he shook his head. "I wanted to make sure we were okay."

Paige sat quietly a moment, trying to decide her next words. "I trust you," she started. "But...the fact of the matter is that I haven't had a lot of safe authority figures in my life," she glanced up at him, "and like it or not you are an authority. You're a captain and beyond that your my captain. You have that direct authority over me now more than ever. And it's going to take time for me to...figure out turning that off and on. For a few minutes this afternoon, you weren't my captain. You were my patient. You were someone important to the people I care about. Don't get all smug about this, but you were someone I cared about." She shrugged. "Then we got back on the ship and I knew you were gonna be okay and...the chain of command kinda fell back around me. It's not you as a person I'm uncomfortable with, it's the authority you hold over me as a direct result of our positions in the Fleet."

"That actually makes a lot of sense," he nodded. He arched a brow, cocking his head to one side. "Not quite what I thought Bones meant when he said you had about as much of a problem with authority as me, but. It does make sense. And just to clear the air, I don't take it personally. I probably would have had the same problem with Pike if I hadn't known him from when I was a teen." He sighed and glanced out the observation screen. "I know...part of this is just going to take time, but if there is something I can do, let me know, okay? I get what you're saying and I'm glad you trust me, honestly Paige, that means a lot and I don't take that lightly. But I do want you to be able to trust your captain. I had the same problem with your brother, now that I think about it. When he was my friend we were fine, but as soon as he flipped over into Doctor Mode-" he waved a hand upward in front of his face "-all the walls came up because of my past experiences. So believe me when I say I get it. It took...a lot of time for me to get passed that. It took a lot of communication to get passed that. There are still times when...it's not always comfortable. I still...have a hard time seeing my friend passed my doctor sometimes. So I'm not gonna hold any of this against you, Paige, because I get it. But I want to help if I can." He rested a hand on her forearm. "Because I do see you as a friend."

Paige sighed and let her hand rest on top of his. "I think this helps? Getting to know you, not as my brother's best friend. Just you. As my friend. And...as uncomfortable as it may make me, getting to know Captain Kirk as my captain and not...just some random captain who can order me around just on the grounds of rank will help too. I know you're not the type to throw your rank around like that, but..."

"Seeing it is different," he filled in where Paige trailed off.

"Yeah," she sighed.

"Okay, well. I have an idea. You're not gonna like it, but I have an idea. If you're up to it, I'd like to invite you to hang out on the bridge with me for a while. And it's probably a good idea for you to take the next few ground missions with me, so that you have the opportunity to get to know your captain a little better. And along those same lines...I think it would be beneficial, I can use big words too," he teased, "if we did stuff like this more often. Without your brother without...talking about work stuff. Just us talking. So you can get to know me a little better. We can take things as slowly as you need to, but. I want you to feel safe and comfortable on this ship. Because we're gonna be on it a while. You can call the shots about the timing, but I think it can help."

"I think you're right," Paige nodded with a sigh. "Thanks for being patient with me."

Jim smiled and lightly shouldered her. "You're welcome, Paige. And thank you for giving me a chance."

Tentatively, Paige leaned against his shoulder and for a moment they sat in silence. "When did you first meet Pike? I thought it was when he recruited you, but you said you knew him as a teen?"

This time it was Jim who took a moment to answer. "He, uh-"

"You don't have to explain," Paige cut in, noting the sudden tension in his body.

"It's okay. He was part of a crew that I met when I was younger. I can fill you in on other details later. And before you say, I don't have to, I know. But. It could be pertinent information later. And really, with your position, you need to know." He sighed and glanced at the floor. May as well rip the bandaid off while he was here. "I'm one of the Nine."

Paige picked her head up and stared in shock. "One of the Nine."

He nodded. "The Tarsus Nine. I won't go into details right now, but...it does affect my medical history. It affects my health now. And as someone on my medical team, as someone directly under my CMO, it's important for you to know that. And it was important to me, personally, to tell you myself."

"Thank you for trusting me with that, Jim," she said softly.

Jim smiled. "Thank you for being someone I know I can trust."

"Does anyone else know?"

"On the ship? Bones, Spock, Chris, and Scotty. Outside of that it's just Pike, I think. It's...they keep the information pretty need to know. I mean, they can't actually stop us from talking about it, but we were all 'recommended' to talk about it as little as possible." He sighed. "Every time I think about it I become less and less convinced that the body they found was actually his."

Paige squeezed his hand. He didn't have to explain, the Tarsus IV tragedy had been covered in her classes as study in working with victims dealing with severe trauma. The realization that she had been studying her captain, brought up some uncomfortable feelings she'd have to deal with later. "Even if it wasn't, there'd be nothing he could do to you now. He'd have to find you first. Even then, none of us would let him near you."

He gave a pained smile. "Thanks, Paige. I'd be pretty easy to find though. The Enterprise is pretty famous at this point."

"You know I had top marks in weapons training, right?"

He paused then cast her a questioning look between amusement and confusion.

"I'm just saying, they actually had me train as a sniper, kind of just to see if I could, but also like...I did do better than a lot of the guys training for security. I am technically a certified sharpshooter."

Jim arched a brow. "Dr. McCoy, are you offering to assassinate a possibly dead governor for me?"

"No..." she shrugged innocently, "I'm just saying...I have a broad skill set that, y'know, you can use at your discretion, Captain."

He snorted. "Yeah, okay. I did actually know that. It is slightly more relevant information for me to know than say your brother. Does he know about that?"

"I mean...."

Jim laughed at her hesitation and the accent slipping out slightly.

"He probably wouldn't be surprised. I always had more fun than he did when Granddad took us out huntin'."

Jim's jaw fell open, and he gave a surprised smile. "How is this the first time I'm hearing about this?"

"Probably because it was just campin' for Len," Paige shrugged. "He always went out with us, but he never took a shot."

"Yeah, that actually makes sense for him..." Jim mused. He shook his head. "Well, I appreciate the offer, but hopefully it's not something you'll ever have to use."

"Hopefully not, but I am gonna keep up my certs if it's all the same to you."

"Just don't tell Bones about the second one, right?" He teased.

Paige grimaced slightly at his hinting. "I swore two oaths when I joined the ship. The Hippocratic Oath and one to my captain, my crew, and my ship. For Len, those are the same oath. For me...it's a Venn diagram. They're almost a single circle, but not quite." She let out a sigh. "Look, Marcus was wrong, I know that. We are not and should not be the military, but...I don't think we can or should assume that everyone else in the universe wants peace. I'm not at all saying shoot first, but...we should be able to protect ourselves, protect each other. I really hope it never comes to that, but I don't think it's wise to pretend that there's zero possibility of something happening either."

Jim nodded. "I understand. It's nuanced and...kinda messy. Especially after Marcus and with knowing that...where Ambassador Spock came from, they weren't as militarized as we already are. I'll admit, that...makes me think. It makes me worry sometimes, just how close are we to that point."

"I don't think it'll happen," Paige shook her head. "There are way too many starry eyed explorers in captain's chairs. They'd kick up too much of a fuss."

Jim snorted when Paige shouldered him to get her point across.

"I'd be kickin' up a fuss with 'em," she added.

#whumptober2024 #no.28 #alt venom #star trek aos #fic #my writing #jim kirk #leonard mccoy #star trek au

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