#but the first time they go a bit easier on him

[gay-dorito-dust]

Could you please write sweet,subtle,cute things batboys+Bruce does when they are crushing on reader?

Dick

He wants to spend a lot of time with you. Literally.

He’s very much the kind of guy who wanted to see you smile and laugh with every interaction that you had with him, just so he could shamelessly memories both your laughter and smile to his memory long after the outing you both had was over.

He would make goofy remarks or recall a story from recent memory that he thought would make your day a bit brighter. Gotham was often a depressing city that could easily damper anyone’s mood with its lack of dramatic change to better the lives of the people who lived within the seemingly cursed town.

So seeing you happy and smiling was more than enough to keep Dick’s hopes up for a better future, hopefully for the both of you should you reciprocate his feelings. He’d gladly die knowing that the last thing he remembers was your laughter and smiling face, looking like an absolute angel in his eyes, but this was him just being a dramatic romantic who just wished to be the very reason you lived a relatively happy life.

Dick would use Hayley quite often when he wanted you to prolong your stay at his place, claiming she’s going to miss you greatly, when it was actually him who’d miss you the moment you walked out the door. After all who could say no to a cute doggy that looked up at you with thoughtless but happy to be there eyes. So it wasn’t uncommon that you and Dick would take Hayley out on walks together through a safe area where he would let Hayley off the leash, only to watch with a warmth blossoming within his chest as you and Hayley enjoyed each others company.

Dick would come to see you, himself and Hayley as a little family of your own making and would love nothing more than to have this become a common thing. Something he wished would become a thing of reality rather than a fantasy he’d visit within his sleep, but he can take what he can get for you being in his life was more then enough, even if there wasn’t a label to what you were to each other.

Another thing he would do was buy you things that he’d thought you’d like. Anything that he saw within a shop window that reminded Dick of you was already bought within minutes as he would then go on a hunt for more things to buy you for the sake of spoiling you for being his anchor and his person through thick and thin. It could be blankets, plushies or sweets that he knew you’d find comfort in it didn’t really matter as he’d treat you like the royalty you were in his mind, all the while getting you a silly card with a cleverly thought out pun that he would write an equally silly message within it, hoping it would become a keepsake to look back on with a sappy but warm feeling within your chest.

Bruce

Very giving but he would act like a real distinguished gentleman towards you.

Alfred raised him right that’s for fucking sure.

He’s the type to never let you pay for anything, always having his card in hand to hand off to the waiter, nor to place on the card reader in a retail store, before you has the chance to reach inside your purse/wallet. It didn’t help that he looked smug after paying for the things that you let your eyes linger a second too long upon.

The man didn’t fear for the loss of money in his bank for as soon as the money was spent, the money lost was quickly replenished within the blink of an eye. No exaggeration.

Bruce would only want to be a provider for you and the type of partner that you could feel safest with as he takes care of you and your needs first and foremost, all the while making sure to make your life a hell of a lot more easier as he helps you by helping you into your shoes, zipping up your coat when it’s cold and put gloves on your hands while stroking the backs of your hands gently; offering you his arm with a smile afterwards as he escorted you both out of the manor to attend a charity event that Wayne Enterprises was hosting.

He personally asks for you to company him to these such grand events as his plus one, even offering to buy you formal attire should you lack any in your wardrobe, or go ahead into buying you one regardless and giving it to you as a present just so he could see your raw reaction himself when you opened the box to see the high quality attire he had picked out for you. Ironically it matched his own attire but in the most subtle of ways that not many would spot unless they were actively looking.

The press have a field day with this as you were frequently seen on Wayne’s arm, so much so that they called you his secret spouse in the tabloids, not that you see them as serious though as the press will make anything up to get people to read their half baked stories.

Offers to drive you home all the time no matter what, it didn’t matter if your home was within walking distance Bruce didn’t feel it was necessary for you to walk alone home when he had a perfect car in excuse use to take you home instead. Just give him a text and he’ll come over within minutes, but even if you didn’t text him he’ll turn up anyway as though he knew where you’d be, and when asked about it he only shrugs and says that he was merely in the same place at the same time, you joked and said that he might’ve been tracking you and Bruce only cleared his throat as he drove you home.

Damian

He’s not so quick to anger when it comes to you, almost like your presence was all that was needed to reassure his mind and bring peace to it without needing to try.

No outbursts came your way at all that many thought you were the one person Damian would never yell at, and they were right but Damian would deny all of this, but even deep down he knew it was something he couldn’t deny forever not if he was going to confess his deepest feelings sooner or later.

He felt as though he could experience a normal life with you as he found himself confining in you with things that he didn’t tell anyone else. You were his safe space whether or not you were aware of it, and sooner or later Damian found himself smiling and laughing and enjoying life as he taught you how to draw.

He was patient with you, more then he ever was with anyone else as he taught you brush strokes, to knowing what type of pencil to use for effective shading along with shading techniques and which ones would make your sketches some more life to them. If it seemed as though you were struggling with his verbal instructions, he’ll use a fresh page in his sketch book and show you firsthand how to do it in a step by step manner, waiting for you to follow along his steps and smiling softly to himself when your finish sketch looked similar to his.

He’s happy that he’s made you happy, it’s not something he’s ever done but if it was just for you then he’ll do it again for the rest of his life.

He’ll even let you name an animal he found abandoned somewhere, letting you hold it in your hands and loving the image before him as you smiled down at the animal he found, handling it with uttermost care as though you were afraid of hurting them. Once you’ve given it a name, Damian will treasure it by always holding them against his chest wherever he could when the occasion arises, as they were the closest thing to you in this point and time. And he smiles every time he looks at them and feels a lightness within his chest.

He’ll use the little guy to have your constant company…not that he’ll ever admit to using such a tactic to anyone.

Jason

He’s a lot more lighthearted with you and playful, almost as if the boy he used to be was coming through.

He’s softer towards you also as he would always be the first to offer you help with whatever you needed without a second thought. He wanted to be helpful towards you, and so he would go out of his way and prove himself as such by doing small but meaningful things that he’d knew you’d appreciate greatly, whether that be getting your coat or reminding you of whether you were forgetting to take your mandatory medication. Literally anything you needed help with Jason will do it without being hesitation.

This then becomes him doing stuff on your behalf that he knew you didn’t like by memory because he remembered everything about you, from your likes to your dislikes, anything related to you he remembers it as though he had known for a long time.

He just wanted to show to you that he wasn’t what others perceived him to be, he didn’t want you to think of him as an angry, broken, hollow husk of a man who knew nothing but revenge and self destructive tendencies that left him feeling lonelier then ever.

Jason would offer up his apartment as your safe reprieve, you were allowed to enter his place whenever you please. He didn’t mind either way as your presence was a much welcomed one, for Jason had never had he felt comfortable in going home just to find you waiting for him with a smile, whether or not your good at cooking didn’t matter as he could easily cook you both up something, or you’d both go to the nearest fast food restaurant for some much needed greasy comfort food.

The domestic act of having you in his apartment constantly that sooner or later he’s seen that you’ve made the apartment even more like home to him, for it has traces of you scattered here and there and Jason couldn’t help but smile at seeing your touches made to his home that he could only wish that he could ask you to move into his apartment permanently. He knew he couldn’t ask that of you yet, especially not when he has still to confess to you.

He’s protective over you and was more then willing to scare off anyone that was doing your head in by overstepping your boundaries. So once they had left you alone Jason would look to you and ask whether you were okay in a soft tone. His eyes filled with concerned he holds you by the shoulders, looking you over incase you were hiding anything from him before moving forward, making sure that there was no one else to cause you problems for the rest of the day.

[deathbxnny]

May I request some headcanons about Victor, selika, Vander and Vi about caring and being with a S/O with ADHD.

Please and thank you

Arcane characters with an s/o that has ADHD. | Viktor, Sevika, Vander and Vi

Thank you for your request, and I hope you'll enjoy this!<3

Content: No spoilers for season 2, season 1 Viktor, established romantic relationships, fluff, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

He was the first to notice and accommodate to your ADHD, mainly as he knew what it's like to live with something that makes life a little harder in general.

Viktor is very patient and gentle with you when you're having a hard time focusing on tasks or are procrastinating on projects. He understands it just fine and works with you to find strategies that make everything a bit easier. Whether it's studying with you or helping you out on research papers, you both spend a lot of time together, to say the least.

You two enjoy working on your own things in eachothers presence, as it helps you get over your lack of motivation and gives you a chance to talk his ear off freely. Thankfully, he's good at multitasking when it comes to you. Some may think your talking is excessive, but he finds it cute.

Whenever you're a bit more fidgety than usual, he'll hold your hand or give you a reassuring smile, yet doesn't stop your body from regulating itself naturally.

Viktor takes your diagnosis as a simple fact, nothing that defines or undermines your ability to be his s/o. If you need a little help, then he's very clearly okay with that.

》SEVIKA

She doesn't initially understand the concept of ADHD and doesn't care much about it either. Sure, she gets that it affects your day to day life, but she was going to help you out with anything either way even without the diagnosis. So, in other words, she's ready to learn and do as you please.

Your fidgety nature was something she definitely had to get used to, as she mistook it as fear or nervousness rather often. This typically meant that she'll ask you if you're alright a lot or if there was someone bothering you. Over time, she learns to look past it and see it as a natural part of you. If you can't sit still, then she'll let you roam around whilst her eyes watch you closely.

Your endless ramblings and deep interests about the most nichest topics also needed some time for her, but what got her the most was your procrastination issues. She did get not want to do things at all, but she would still attempt to make work as fun as possible in her own way. She'll accompany you everywhere and take care of the heavy lifting.

When she said that she was loyal, she was definitely not kidding around. Your ADHD changes nothing about the way she views you, and so she doesn't make a big deal out of it either.

》VANDER

Probably the most patient and understanding of your ADHD and its symptoms by far. He sees them as a part of you in a good way and simply accepts them as they are.

Whenever you procrastinate on chores or work, he'll try and make it more enjoyable by either helping out or promising you a nice treat after. If it's really bad, though, he'll just do things himself to not stress you out about them too much.

He's the same with your lack of focus, although he sometimes does get concerned about you zoning out when things get serious. Vander will still find his own innovative ideas on making you focus when he needs you to.

He loves listening to you talk to him about the most random things possible, mainly as it shows him that you're comfortable enough with the care he gives you. He also just enjoys weighing in with his own opinions about the many various topics you bring forth at rapid speed.

Either way, he skillfully navigates your diagnosis with ease and doesn't ever let you feel like you're burdening him with it.

》VI

Well, she certainly may have outlandish ideas at times when it comes to working with your ADHD, but she definitely at least has the spirit for it!

Your natural fidgeting and inability to stay still gets interpreted in you just needing to power yourself out. This makes you often find yourself in front of a punching bag with an excited Vi telling you to go ahead and let it alllll out. Whether it works or not is up to you, but you appreciate the effort even after you had explain it wasn't that easy.

Vi will make it her mission to help you out on projects or with work whenever the procrastination gets too bad. She'll also help you out with simpler tasks when she can but will otherwise try to make things fun, at least.

You two enjoy rambling away with each other, and it is her favorite thing. You're both bad at focusing on one topic at a time, so your talks can go on for hours, which she loves very much.

Your diagnosis is just a part of you that she very much loves, even when it gets difficult at times. She never wants you to feel left out or liked less because of it and does her best to never let you think that.

[mintmatcha]

I am so soft for father figure Shinsou, thank you for giving me something I didn’t know I needed. Just doing everyday things with him and him being soft towards you child is giving me life.

Casual. That's the word you used to describe what the meeting should be. Casual.

"He's a good boy, for the most part." Your bag is already stuffed full of toys and towels and other miscellaneous things that Shinso can't imagine you'll need. "His dad spoils him, so he might be a little bratty at first- we're working on it. Well, I'm working on it. His dad is--"

You kneel down and start rummaging through your things.

"Uh, don't let him guilt you into buying him snacks, please. He's got a severe nut and seed allergy and it's just easier if I take care of it all. There's snacks in here, along with two epipens. There's two more in the red cabinet in the kitchen, just in case we ever need them. "

Somehow, you manage to wiggle out the sunscreen for your bag without collapsing the whole pile. You dollop a bit on your fingers.

"Once they get here, we'll go straight to the park and hang out there for just a little bit. The book says the first meeting should be short and we should give him other things to focus out so he doesn't stress out." Your shoulders are bunched by your ears. "It'll be super casual. Easy. No stress."

Shinso kneels down next to you and dips a finger in the sunscreen.

"No stress," Shinso repeats back, dotting the sunscreen on your nose. It's enough to urge a smile out of you.

"Sorry, I know I'm--" You toss your hands in the air, frazzled, but with a smile. "This is a big deal."

"I know it is."

"We've only been dating for eight months," you say/ "What if we're jumping the gun? I don't want to put him through this if-"

"I'm not planning on breaking up with you." Ever. Shinso wouldn't have agreed to this if he wasn't completely sure that you were the one for him. It's not that he doesn't like children, it's that he's never spent time with any. Only child, no cousins: he doesn't know anything about kids other than the fact he used to be one.

You reach other and dot Shinso's nose with sunscreen. Now, you're matching.

"You might break up with me after you see what I'm dealing with."

Shinso takes your hand. "I'm not going to leave because you have a kid."

"I was talking about his father," you heave out a sigh. "They'll probably be late, by the way."

-

They are late.

Significantly.

It's six hours past the allotted time, filled with weak excuses from you. The television has rolled into the second season of some trashy show, but neither of you are really watching.

"He always loses track of time," you repeat for the twentieth time, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice. Shinso is long past disappointed, well into the area of 'pissed'. Mostly at your ex, partially at you, for letting it happen.

"He's still not calling you back?"

"No," you say, just like you've said before. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have let him know about you, he's just-- I dunno. Playing games with me again."

It contextualizes a lot of your behaviors, actually. The anxiety about getting home, the days you go radio silent, the dates where you suddenly have to run off and collect your child: he imagines there's a lot of bullshit games that happen between you two.

"You let him treat you like this?"

"He's my baby's father. I can't just..."

[magical-reid]

The Rings We Keep Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!FBI!Reader

Genre: fluff

Content warnings: none

Word count: 2.2K

Part 1

Two months had passed since the case ended, your team was spending more and more time assisting the BAU with their cases, and you were still adjusting to being known as Mrs. Reid. The BAU’s teasing had mostly subsided, but Penelope couldn’t help herself, sending you daily texts with variations of “How’s married life treating you, sugarplum?”

Spencer, of course, was blissfully oblivious to half the jokes. You envied his ability to compartmentalize. For you, the line between personal and professional felt increasingly blurred—especially when you came home to find him sitting on your couch, flipping through one of your dog-eared mystery novels like he belonged there.

“Hey,” you greeted, setting your go-bag on the floor.

“Hey,” he replied without looking up. “Your landlord called earlier. The leak in your bathroom should be fixed tomorrow.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, thanks?”

Spencer finally glanced up, his expression innocent. “It’s easier if they call me. You don’t always answer your phone.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Easier, huh?”

He shrugged. “Legally, I’m your emergency contact. Makes sense.”

Your chest tightened a mix of irritation and something warmer that you weren’t ready to name. Spencer had a way of making the most unconventional things seem logical—like casually fixing your plumbing situation as if it were just another bullet point on his to-do list.

You crossed the room, plopping onto the couch beside him. “You know this is weird, right?”

“What is?”

“This,” you gestured between the two of you. “Being married but… not married.”

Spencer tilted his head, considering your words. “It’s unconventional, sure. But it’s not weird. We work well together.”

“That’s not exactly the foundation of a marriage,” you pointed out, though your tone lacked bite. “Shouldn’t we—I don’t know—try to figure out what this actually is?”

Spencer’s brow furrowed. “You mean, like dating?”

The word hung in the air between you, heavy and full of possibility.

“Maybe,” you said, feeling your cheeks warm. “I mean, it might help. Get to know each other outside of work. Outside of… whatever this is.”

Spencer nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. “That’s logical. We could schedule something.”

“Schedule?” You laughed, the sound half nervous, half amused. “Spence, you don’t schedule a date. You just… go.”

His lips quirked in a small, sheepish smile. “Right. Of course.”

The First Date

Three days later, you found yourself sitting across from Spencer at a cozy little café near the library. He’d insisted on picking the place, and you hadn’t protested—it was quiet, intimate, and felt like him.

“I, um, wasn’t sure what you liked, so I ordered a variety,” Spencer said, gesturing to the spread of pastries between you. “There’s a 73% chance one of these is your favorite.”

You bit back a smile, reaching for a chocolate croissant. “Good guess.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly, and you realized he’d been nervous—an unusual look for someone so confident in every other aspect of his life.

“So,” you began, tearing off a piece of croissant. “Do we talk about work, or is that off-limits?”

Spencer shook his head. “It’s not off-limits, but we could talk about other things. Like… hobbies.”

“Hobbies,” you repeated, amused. “You mean like your extensive knowledge of obscure trivia?”

“Or your knack for solving puzzles,” he countered, a rare teasing tone in his voice.

You laughed, the sound drawing a faint smile from him. For the first time, the awkwardness began to fade, replaced by something warmer—something that felt almost like normalcy.

Navigating New Territory

Over the next few weeks, your dynamic shifted in subtle but undeniable ways. Spencer started leaving his favorite books on your nightstand, claiming they were “better than the ones you usually read.” You, in turn, introduced him to your guilty pleasure TV shows, relishing the way he tried (and failed) to resist getting invested in the drama.

But it wasn’t all smooth sailing.

One evening, as you cooked dinner together—a rare occurrence, considering your busy schedules—Spencer reached for the salt just as you turned to grab a spoon. The collision was minor, but it left you both frozen, faces inches apart.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, stepping back quickly.

Spencer’s cheeks flushed. “No, it was my fault.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken tension. You busied yourself stirring the sauce, your mind racing. Was this what it felt like to be in a real marriage? The constant push and pull of closeness and uncertainty?

“I’ve been reading about communication in relationships,” Spencer said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

You raised an eyebrow. “Of course you have.”

“It says physical proximity is important,” he continued, his tone serious. “Small gestures, like holding hands, can build intimacy.”

You stared at him, torn between exasperation and affection. “Spence, are you saying we should hold hands more?”

He nodded, his expression earnest. “It might help.”

You sighed, setting down the spoon. “Alright. Let’s try it.”

Tentatively, you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers together. His skin was warm, his grip firm but careful.

“How’s this?” you asked, half-joking.

Spencer’s gaze met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you.

“Good,” he said softly. “It’s… good.”

A Step Forward

One night, after a particularly grueling case, you found yourself leaning against Spencer on the couch, too tired to care about boundaries. His arm was draped around your shoulders, and you realized with a start that it felt… nice. Comforting.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low.

“Yeah,” you murmured, closing your eyes. “Just tired.”

He didn’t move, didn’t press for more. Instead, he simply held you, his presence steady and reassuring.

In that moment, you realized something had shifted—not just between you, but within you. This wasn’t just a marriage of convenience anymore. It was becoming something real, something worth fighting for.

And as you drifted off to sleep, Spencer’s voice echoed softly in your mind.

“I’ve got you.”

You believed him.

The Unspoken Shift

It was late one night when the shift finally happened when everything you and Spencer had been tiptoeing around finally came to a head. The case had been grueling—intense, dangerous—but in the end, the team had solved it. The adrenaline had faded, leaving an unfamiliar silence in its wake.

You were sitting on the couch in your small apartment, your mind still racing from the day’s events. You’d barely had time to think about anything beyond work in the past few weeks, but now, with the threat neutralized, everything came rushing back.

Spencer, on the other hand, seemed completely unaffected by the chaos. He was curled up in the armchair across from you, his laptop open in front of him, but his eyes weren’t on the screen. He kept glancing over at you, his face unreadable, as if there was something he wanted to say but didn’t know how to say it.

It was in moments like this that you found yourself wondering what this was between you—this odd marriage of convenience that had slowly morphed into something you couldn’t quite define.

We work well together, Spencer had said once, so casually that it hadn’t quite clicked at the time. Now, though, as you caught him looking at you again—this time with a sort of tenderness that made your heart skip a beat—you wondered if he meant more than just work.

You shifted on the couch, trying to distract yourself. You couldn’t allow yourself to think too deeply, not with everything that was still unresolved. But Spencer’s voice cut through the silence.

"Y/N, I... I think I need to apologize."

You froze, unsure if you had heard him correctly. "Apologize? For what?"

He hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keys of his laptop, but he didn’t look at the screen. Instead, his gaze lingered on you, serious and a little vulnerable. "For... for how distant I’ve been. I know I’ve been focused on the cases and... well, on myself too much." His lips tightened, as if he regretted the words before they even left his mouth. "I’ve been pushing you away without even realizing it. And I’m sorry."

You blinked, taken aback by his honesty. Spencer was never one to admit when he was wrong. He was always so logical, so composed. But tonight, something was different. There was a rawness in his voice that made your chest tighten, and you realized with a jolt that maybe you had been pushing him away too.

"You haven’t been distant, Spence," you said softly. "You’ve just been... you." The words felt heavier than you intended, but it was the truth. Spencer had always been focused, and driven, and even when he was there, he seemed so far away, locked in his own world.

"I know," he said, his voice low. "But that’s not an excuse. I—I should have been there more for you. You’ve been doing this alone, and that’s not fair."

You stared at him, processing what he had just said. Spencer Reid, always so sure of his intelligence and his work, was admitting—without words—that he wasn’t sure how to be a partner in this unconventional marriage. And as much as you wanted to brush it off, you couldn’t. You had been struggling with the same doubts.

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” you said quietly, motioning between the two of you. “This whole… marriage thing. It’s not what I expected, either. But that doesn’t mean I’m not trying.”

Spencer’s eyes softened, his expression vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before. “I know you are,” he said. “And that’s why I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t know what this is, but... I don’t want to lose it.”

There was a long pause as you both let the words settle. You felt the weight of everything that had been building up—the awkward moments, the shared glances, the near-kisses that you’d both avoided. But in that moment, you realized something: you didn’t want to keep avoiding it.

“I don’t want to lose it either,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Spencer inhaled deeply, his hand moving hesitantly toward yours. When his fingers brushed against yours, your pulse quickened. The touch was gentle, uncertain—but it felt like a promise, one you hadn’t even realized you were waiting for. The space between you seemed to shrink as if the universe itself was holding its breath.

"I think I—" Spencer started, but the words hung in the air, unspoken, because neither of you could say them aloud just yet. Instead, you reached for him.

You moved slowly, carefully, but when your lips met his, it wasn’t cautious. It wasn’t calculated. It was everything that had been building between you for the past two months. It was vulnerability and longing and the quiet admission that you couldn’t keep pretending anymore.

His lips were warm, soft, and he didn’t pull away, as if he was afraid you might disappear if he did. The kiss was tentative at first, but it deepened as you both leaned into it, the world around you fading until it was just the two of you. And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, you felt right. Not because the kiss had solved everything, but because in that moment, you finally felt seen.

When you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily. Spencer’s hands were still lightly touching your arms, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them, but you didn’t want him to move. You didn’t want to break this moment of rawness between you.

“I... I’ve wanted that for a while,” Spencer said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, your heart racing. “I think I have too.”

For a moment, you simply stayed there, sitting together, breathing in the same air. You didn’t need to talk, didn’t need to say anything more. Everything had shifted, in a way that felt both terrifying and liberating at the same time.

You were no longer just coworkers. You weren’t just a married couple in name. In that kiss, you had taken the first step into something more. Something real.

And for the first time, you believed Spencer when he said he didn’t want to lose this.

The Quiet Moments After

The days after your first kiss were a mix of confusion and excitement. There was still tension between the work you did and the lives you were building together, but somehow it felt more manageable now. You and Spencer began finding ways to open up to each other—slowly, carefully, but with more and more honesty.

You would catch Spencer looking at you with that same soft expression as if he was still trying to figure out the person sitting beside him, but there was no hesitation anymore. No pulling away.

He didn’t say much, but his actions spoke volumes. Whether it was bringing you your favorite coffee when he knew you were having a rough day or simply sitting beside you on the couch, his presence had started to mean more. And with each passing moment, each new shared experience, you felt your connection deepening.

Maybe this wasn’t the marriage you had expected. But maybe, just maybe, it was the one you needed.

Part 3

[meelusinee]

AN OPERA HOUSE ☆ T.N X READER

in which you’re Theo's girlfriend and went to visit him on tour.

pairing: singer!theodore nott x singer!reader

tags: band!au, mostly fluff

word count: 2.6k

warnings: none, just fluff! (and mattheo getting water bottles thrown his way)

author’s note: my first post! for starters, i made a small playlist for this fic if you’d like to check it out. theodore, who i imagine as a cigarettes after sex singer. secondly, while english is my first (and only) language, that does not mean i claim it in any way shape or form (aka this will probably suck ass)

AN OPERA HOUSE | T.N x SINGER!READER

God, he hated interviews.

The lights that were blaring in Theodore’s face, along with the sound of people walking around both in front and behind the set, were really starting to piss him off. Theo didn’t know how Enzo and Mattheo did it, both of them smiling bright as if they were having a nice fuck or smoking a rather heavy cigarette.

Theodore really could use a cigarette right now. Either that, or you.

Thoughts of nicotine and you had been running rampant in his mind ever since he had to leave you for his national tour, the tour that celebrated the release of the band’s newest album Cigarettes After Sex. A debut of sorts, Theodore wasn’t really sure what to call it. If he were to name it anything, he’d want to name it his love letter to you. But Mattheo had said he couldn’t do that, so he stuck with the band name.

“Today is a rather special day for you, isn’t it?”

Theodore’s mind zoned back in as Blaise gently nudged his leg, his posture straightening up as the interviewer finally started asking questions. Perhaps they needed time to make the lights even brighter, Theo thought, his hand moving to cover the frown growing on his face. 

“Very special indeed,” Mattheo said, his signature smirk that got a lot of people involved with the band plastered on his face. “We just released an album, did you hear?”

“Yes, I did!” the interviewer said, smiling brightly as she adjusted the notes in her hand. “I was hoping we could ask you some questions about it, the musical process and making it mostly.”

Theo hummed non-committedly as the rest of them nodded their heads. Questions about music production didn’t sound too bad compared to a media interrogation.

“Do you mind if we did an introduction?” the lady asked, her fingers patting the cards.

“Course not love,” Blaise said, waving his hand casually as he sat up straighter. Theodore rolled his eyes, looking down at the ground. Blaise was always the biggest player out of the four of them. And that said a lot, seeing as though Mattheo Riddle was in the band as well. 

Theodore watched as the cameras focused in on each of them, the interviewer putting her cards down momentarily to introduce them to the show. “Today is a very special day for all of us, I can imagine.” she said, smiling as she made some sort of dramatic hand gesture towards them. “Today, I’m here with the members of Cigarettes after Sex. We’re going to ask questions about their newest album.”

“I’m so excited.” Lorenzo squeaked, straightening up as he and Mattheo made funny faces to the camera.

“I wanted to start with the first question I had, which was how working on the album went.” she started almost instantly, sitting up a bit straighter. Theo rather appreciated that about her. “I mean, there’s four people in your band, and a lot of timing and other issues that you’d have to work on together. Does that stuff come easier to you than to others, do you think?”

“I think we work pretty well together, right?” Lorenzo asked, leaning forward to look at the other three before smirking in Theo’s direction. “Other than Mr. Grumpy over there, he gets pissy a lot.”

“Oh definitely.” Mattheo said, smirking as he ruffled Theo’s hair. “But it’s okay, because he writes us songs and mothers us whenever we drink. We love him very dearly.”

“It’s not my fault you decide to get concerningly drunk almost every time we hit a bar.” Theo grumbled, sitting up a bit straighter as he prepared to answer the question seriously. “We work as a team a lot of the time, especially when it comes to music. The only non-negotiable is the lyrics, which I write by myself. Other than that though, it’s free reign.”

“So things like instruments and rhythm are all decided by everyone in the band collectively?” the interviewer asked.

“Pretty much,” Blaise explained. “Usually Mattheo and Enzo make a starting beat for songs, and Theo and I usually build guitar chords off of that. Theo here has most of the control with singing though, rhythm and stuff.”

“That’s really cool.” the interviewer nodded. “I wish my family had that amount of coordination during the holidays.”

The four of them chuckled at varying degrees, with Mattheo winking at the interviewer after. “Maybe if we came over we could give you some pointers.”

“That sounds really lovely, actually.” she said, the comment obviously getting to her. Her cheeks became visibly more flushed, fingers tapping faster against her notes. “I wanted to ask you guys a little bit about the lyrics though, if you don’t mind.”

And here we go.

“That’s all Theo’s field.” Lorenzo said, all three of their fingers dramatically pointing at the top of Theo’s head. He really felt like walking out for a smoke, and maybe burning them all with the ashes out of spite for their existence. But he wasn’t going to let them know that.

“Now, I’m sure you can guess where this is headed,” she chuckled softly, flipping one of her flashcards over. “I was wondering what the inspiration for your songs was. Do you have a muse or anything of the sort?”

Theodore sighed, feeling the moment almost pause in time as he tried to think of an answer. He very much did have a muse, you were waiting at home in his bed. Even still, he wasn’t sure if he wanted that public. Especially since the both of you were rather quiet creatures.

He supposed it couldn’t hurt too much though.

“I do,” he whispered, clearing his throat after he spoke. He didn't realize how choked he would sound speaking. “Yeah, she’s really pretty.”

“Theo’s got a girlfriend!” Mattheo teased, poking Theo’s cheek teasingly. “He’s got a girlfriend who he loves very much. That woman has stolen his heart from me!”

“For shame of her, the audacity even.” Blaise chuckled amusedly, both Mattheo and Enzo playing a heartbroken bit. Theo smirked softly as Mattheo dramatically rested his head on Lorenzo’s shoulder, fake sobs escaping his mouth as they mourned over the loss of a non-existent relationship. 

“You’ll be fine.” Theo said, gently patting Mattheo’s back.

“I’ll never recover from this.” he sniffled, sitting up a bit straighter. “Mark my words.”

It was a midsummer night, the sweltering heat doing nothing to deter the line of fangirls waiting at the entrance gates. The muggy and dense air seemed to surround everyone with a humid blanket, every bit of contact made as they tried to get through the doors like a match on gasoline. The concerts you went to weren’t usually this crowded and suffocating. 

Then again, you usually never went to such well known-bands.

Luckily for you, you had been able to sneak a VIP seat ticket for the higher tip-tops of the opera house, a fitting venue for the band that was playing tonight. Cigarettes After Sex was flashing on the monitor they had set up near the back of the stage, the camera zoomed in to focus on the currently empty microphone stand. 

Voices filled the area as everyone began to take their seats, some people pushing and shoving as they made their way around with water and sneaked in alcohol. Some of them had on merch for the band, some of them didn’t. Most of them wore darker clothes though, lots of black with leather jackets and heavy boots.

Your eyes zoned in on the screen as the lights began to dim, the voices all hushing as four men walked out onto the stage. Lorenzo Berkshire was the drummer, one of the most well-known band drummers that you could name off the top of your head. Mattheo Riddle was already stationed by the keyboards, his unruly curls already a little damp from the humidity inside the room. Blaise Zabini walked out with his bass guitar in hand, a role you knew he took on just so he could look hot while strumming the strings. Then came out Theodore Nott. 

Your boyfriend.

You could tell that the heat was affecting him the least out of all of the band members, his waterline covered in the tiniest bit of eyeliner. You smiled softly as you recalled the memory of putting eyeliner on him when you two first started dating, the giggling fit the both of you had broken out into as the other three begged you to do their eyeliner as well. 

He looked beautiful in the lighting too, his outfit framing his figure in an almost holy light. You were almost tempted to start writing a song about it right then and there. But now wasn’t your time, now was the time of the band.

You supposed the band thought the same thing as well, Blaise’s fingers beginning the strum the opening of their most popular song. Theo made his way up to the microphone stand, smiling softly at the crowd as he began to sing. His voice was just as angelic as his face, echoing through the opera house like the ghost of a long forgotten lover. He had completely captivated the room, the silence barely just quieter than the sound of his voice. 

“Your lips, my lips,” you smiled softly as he sang the lyrics, leaning your head on your hand. “Apocalypse.”

You remember the time when he wrote that song. Your tongue was barely darted out as you tried to focus on not messing up the edges of a painting you had been working on, the brush trembling with your hands focused. It was a galaxy, the blues and purples blending together in a  jaw-dropping beauty of a display. Mattheo had come into the room as you finished, a low whistle escaping his mouth as he glanced over at it.

“Looks like an apocalypse.”

Apparently, those words had rung through Theo’s mind for the week after that. He eventually sat you down on the bed, pulling out his guitar as he began to sing the lyrics to you. They needed a bit of polishing with the rhythm, his fingers plucking the wrong strings at times as he sang. But it was one of the most beautiful pieces you had heard regardless, tears welling in your eyes as you moved to hug him. That hug also ran through Theo’s mind for yet another week, in which he had apparently produced an entire studio album based on you. 

You smiled softly as the end of the song came about, the final string echoing through the silent theatre. Theo had gone to grab a bottle of water by the speaker, his eyes locking onto yours.

You winked playfully, smiling at the blush that covered his features. You also just remembered that he had not expected you at the tour. 

“You need to come get your lover boy,” were the words that rang through your phone speaker as you tried to press it against your ear.

“What?” you asked again, pen in your hand as you spoke.

“I said,” Mattheo’s voice rang through the speaker. “You need to come get your lover boy. He is really depressed right now, like, really. He’s missing you terribly and is currently refusing to work because of it.”

You heard him and Blaise beginning to argue in the background, the both of them knowing that Theo would eventually get up. But Mattheo seemed to think that you being there would solve every single one of his problems.

“I don’t know if I can go, Mattheo,” you mumbled, placing your notebook down. “I doubt I could get a spontaneous ticket.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he said. “I already sent a driver to pick you up, he’ll be there in about 10 minutes. I’m just calling to let you know.”

“You what?” you said, looking at the phone incredulously. “Mattheo, I don’t have any time to pack! What would I wear?”

“You say that as if Theo won’t buy you a whole wardrobe based on you liking a single piece of jewelry!” Mattheo said back, groaning as Blaise called for him. “I gotta go, make sure you get in that car and come over. He’s really, really missing you.”

“Mattheo, I swear to Merlin.” you began, but didn’t have any time to finish as you heard the beeping at the end of the line. 

(divider)

“Is that amore mio?” Theo asked Blaise incredulously, looking over at the other three before catching Mattheo’s smirk. “Oh, you bastard.”

“You were missing her!” he said, running away from the keyboard so Theo could throw water at him. “It's not my fault you got depressed!”

“She is meant to be resting, testa di cazzo!” Theo said, sighing as he put the bottle down. No doubt that would be clipped in magazine headers across the country. Theo looked over at you, a soft smile coming on his face when you came into vision. You still had that smile on your face, if not brighter now that you were giggling. He smiled back, picking up his microphone again.

“For our next song,” he spoke into the microphone, placing it back on the stand. “I think it’d be rather nice to sing something about the building we’re in as well. Something about the opera house.” he said, smirking softly as the crowd of fans began cheering. The lights dimmed again as the music began playing, his eyes closing as he let it run through his soul.

“Built an opera house for you in the deepest jungle,” he began, the music coursing through his veins. The words flowed out of him like a waterfall, his voice sweet as candy as he began walking back and forth at the front of the stage. Though every time the chorus hit he found himself in the middle, eyes focused on yours as he sang the lyrics. 

“I was meant to love you, and always keep you in my life. I was meant to love you, I knew I loved you at first sight.”

The lights cut off completely as the equipment turned off, a smile growing on Theo’s face as the end of the concert came. 

“Theo!” you squeaked as you saw him, waddling up to him like a happy penguin as you embraced him in a hug. You hadn’t seen him in over two weeks, the longest either of you had ever spent apart. “I never want to abandon you ever again.”

“If anyone was doing the abandoning, it was me.” he chuckled, his arms wrapping around you as he kissed your forehead lovingly. “I missed you so much principessa,” 

“I missed you too,” you mumbled, burying your face in his chest. “Teddy.”

“Are you calling me a teddy bear?” he chuckled softly, pulling away from the hug to cup your face lovingly. His eyes were filled with devotion you only thought possible in dreams and fairytales, that was until you eventually met him at least. 

“Yes I am.” you smiled softly.

“You are ridiculous.” he chuckled softly, pressing his lips against yours as he caressed your cheeks lovingly. “Merlin, I love you.”

“I love you too.” she whispered lovingly. 

The two of you stood comfortably in the silence, wrapped in a hug neither wanted to leave. That was until Mattheo popped in.

“Told you that you missed her!”

His face had rather quickly met two empty water bottles. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE

thank you so much for reading! i got kind of lazy during the end of this, i'm not going to lie to you (it's three am), but! if you want more of these two lovely beauties i might maybe make a part two! (i originally drafted this with reader as a singer in mind, so if you'd like to be singing some adrianne lenker songs to theo just let me know)

please like and comment and all that jazz, i practically live off of validation at this point.

[xinganhao]

🩵 dead poets society member!vernon x reader.

offshoot from the dead poets society!hhu x reader verse. (highly advise to read that first before delving into this!) part of my svt university milestone event.

I said / "I am afraid I will spend entire years / trying not to need you." / As if I wasn't certain. As if this wasn't my confession. — I swear, next time I see you I'll be funny by Clementine Von Radics

PREVIOUSLY ›

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ cool about it by boygenius. sa ngalan ng pag-ibig by december avenue. everything by the black skirts. buyer's remorse by daniel caesar & omar apollo. godspeed by frank ocean. someday i'll get it by alek olsen. everyone adores you (at least i do) by matt maltese. tie my shoes by beabadooobee. nothing can by niki.

on his first year away, vernon focuses on physical distance. a foolish part of him thinks that the more miles he puts in between the two of you, the easier it will be for him to get over this stupid, hopeless crush that lasted throughout his uni years. and so vernon goes backpacking, goes solo traveling. he lets the wind take him wherever. if anything, he only realizes just how deeply ingrained you are in his subconscious. he thinks of you when he passes a secondhand bookstore. he itches to text when he has a particularly good coffee. and when the sky is clear, when it's just the perfect shade of blue? he swears he can hear you in the back of his head, quoting mary oliver. (or: this is the year vernon learns all the different ways you can miss a person.)

vernon spends his second year on dating apps. it makes him a bit sick to his stomach, really. he doesn't think he's doing it right. he matches with people, sure. even manages to bag a handful of dates. each one ends with him giving them some variation of 'i don't think this is going to work out', and when they inevitably ask why, he lies through his teeth. too busy to be in a serious relationship. too emotionally out of it to commit. anything but the truth. (or: this is the year vernon realizes that no one measures up to you.)

by the time his third year away rolls around, vernon is beginning to feel a bit pathetic. here he is, after all that time, and he's still haunted by the shadow of a relationship that didn't even come to the light. sometimes, that seems to be worse— saying goodbye and knowing the door is left open a crack. he distracts himself with literally everything else. he tries out improv. he finally opens up a letterboxd account. he signs up for marathons. (or: this is the year vernon runs, in more ways than one.)

there's less of an ache by the time that year four comes. vernon doesn't think of you as often as he used to. he's able to be with someone else without imagining you in their place. even as that relationship eventually ends, he's glad that it's because of reasons unrelated to you. he's finally gotten to a point where he can look at himself in the mirror and not think of all the ways he faltered or failed. despite everything, it's still him. (or: this is the year vernon accepts the version of himself in his reflection.)

five years. it takes five years before vernon can finally reach back out. not to everyone yet, no. he starts slow. mingyu gives him a whole load of shit for it. seungcheol asks a dozen questions. wonwoo understands. vernon is grateful for them, so much so that he finds himself watching the dead poets society on his plane ride home. it's all fun and games until the scene with robin williams, where the schoolboys are paying ode to him with cries of "o captain, my captain!" it's the very line that echoes in his head when he sees you some feet away from him during a chance encounter. suddenly, none of it matters. not the distance, not the blind dates, not the man that he's tried so hard to be. all he can think of— all he can see— is you. o captain, my captain. (or: this is the year vernon decides to be honest with himself.)

[missnightshade]

❝ IN BETWEEN ❞

Requested: Yes.

Summary: Wanda Maximoff's younger sister seems to have no place in the hex besides Agatha’s side.

Warnings: Fluffy; a bit of angst. My poor writing. I love Wanda but needed to portrait her like this for the plot. English not being my first language.

Word count: 1.2K.

Y/N Maximoff was a delight. A lively, powerful, rebellious, and carefree creature that echoed as someone so different from her older siblings. At least, that was the image Agatha Harkness had of her since the first time stepping into Wanda's made-up reality. A sweet little thing, ready to be made hers.

The younger witch didn't have a coherent part into that small city her sister held captive. Pietro has been dead for years, and even with Agatha’s poor casting of someone in his place, the Scarlett Witch held more care in her eyes for him than to Y/N. Her real and alive little sister. Agatha felt the need to protect you. To gather you into her own arms and never let go.

"Hey, Agnes. What's up?" The sweet voice of the youngest Maximoff elated her as Agatha stood by Wanda and Vision's door with a bottle of wine and what looked like a food container.

"Heard the Maximoffs were out and about. I decided to pay my favorite girl a visit." She stepped in, not caring to be invited. "Who in their right mind would leave such a pretty pet alone?"

Y/N's laugh scaped as her hand pushed the door closed. Agnes was the only happiness the move to Westview brought her. Yet, she couldn’t bring herrself to remember why she had decided to live with Wanda.

"I think you're the only one who thinks that way, Aggy."

The Maximoff's body flopped down on the couch as Agatha roamed around the kitchen she's been in many times before. Now, with the late nineties aesthetic, it felt easier to find what she needed to open the bottle.

"Why do you think so, dear?", Agnes asked, waltzing back into the living room with two glasses of red wine.

She reached for one, eyes now dedicated to gaze at the company for the night. "Oh, you know." Y/N moved her hand gently around her, and Agatha could swear whips of magic erupted from them in frustration. "Wanda is out with Vision, the boys and Pietro. The Maximoff's outing. Yet, here I am. Barely part of the family."

As Y/N grumbled, sipping the wine, Agatha smiled against the rim of her own glass, mind rapidly working.

"Oh, sweet girl. They love you. You know that. Wanda would never choose to leave you behind."

Her words seemed to wake something inside Y/N’s mind. As her eyes locked into Agnes', the young witch frowned, memories of Sokovia and the Maximoff twins leaving their younger sister in the hands of Hydra agents after fleeing. The puzzle pieces of memories also had the smell of burned cookies in the Avengers compound and Wanda grieving in the arms of a robot while Y/N suffered alone.

But just as they came, a stronger power pushed them out.

"Y/N?" She looked at Agnes."Where did you go?"

"Uhm..." She tried piercing things together, but her mind felt blank. "What were we talking about?"

"Wanda?"

"Oh, right." she sipped on the wine again. "You're right. She wouldn't choose that."

The happiness in your voice made Agatha’s stomach hurt. She thought for a moment that something inside you had remembered.

"Yes, sweetie. She wouldn't."

Agatha's inside twisted and turned. That precious girl, with the most mesmerizing eyes and bright personality was just another refugee of the excuse of a Scarlett Witch that was being written.

She scoffed at the thought, bitterness seeping from her mouth. The sound made Y/N look at her, the thick alcohol sliding down her throat. Her gaze was questioning, but Harkness' eyes were fixed on the movements she did to swallow. For a moment, as Agatha tried to look up at her eyes, a ghost of necessity lingered above her shoulders.

Y/N smiled then, and for the first time since meeting the younger Maximoff, she felt obsessed.

( . . . )

That feeling didn't vanish... or even subsided. In fact, it only grew stronger.

Agatha would stop by the Maximoff's home every day to bring the girl a sense of comfort and, almost always, she would be alone, playing the part of the perfect, quiet sister that hardly ever made Wanda lose her mind. Forgotten. Misplaced. A secondary part that no one actually cared about.

But Agatha did. And Agnes was always there.

There were many reasons as to why she wanted to play along Wanda's game. To pursue her. To enlighten her. To...steal her. But when looking at Y/N, all of that seemed so small in comparison. And even inside that wrecked reality of Wanda's, somehow, Y/N had enough of free will to choose to fall in love with Agnes.

"Argh, i wanna cry." Y/N cried out in another wine date. In Agnes' home, the effect of Wanda was not so overwhelming. The woman could, actually, feel something real.

"Cry? Why?" Agatha questioned, trying to reach for her. The space between them grew smaller by the time they saw each other. Now, on the same couch, Agnes' hands were stopped by Y/N, who quietly guided them to both sides of her face. The vulnerability on her irises pained Agatha as her thumbs caressed Y/N's cheeks. "Darling, what's it? Tell me."

Y/N closed her eyes, pouting as if she was really fighting the urge to cry. Maybe devouring two bottles of wine by her side wasn't a good idea.

"It's just..." She mumbled, only opening her eyes when Agatha held her a bit closer, almost touching their noses. Y/N felt as if she couldn't breathe. Her entire world crumbled when looking at Agnes like that. "You're so pretty, Aggy. And you're always here for me. And...and when you are this close, I feel like the only thing I want in this world..." She breathed out in a full smeared sentence. "Is to have you all to myself."

Agatha's digitals tingled with the need to sink her fingers and merge her skin with Y/N's. In all the centuries of her life, not once the sensation of such primal need crumbled the ever so calculatedly built walls of her existence. She eyed her with confusion, but then, with love. Y/N didn't need a second time to wonder what that meant when her lips crashed down onto hers. The sweet kiss was firstly a mere touch, but when the Maximoff's insides twisted and her fingers slid against the ones on her face, Agatha pulled her closer. There was an almost bestial growl that scaped the older woman, but her fingers gently stroke the other, bringing her in.

When they parted, their foreheads touched. Agatha had a smile that could light up the whole city of Westview. Y/N saw it up close, laughing slightly as she pressed the tip of her nose against Agnes'.

"Are you laughing at me, Dove?"

The nickname made Y/N raise an eyebrow, but that didn't stop her hand from cupping the nape of Agatha’s head, nails slightly running against it.

"I'm laughing with you." She answered, pecking Agatha's lips again. "I thought it would take you longer to kiss me."

"Were you betting how long i would take?"

"I was actually betting on how long I would take lose my patience. "

"If you knew I also liked you, why didn't you take the lead, Dove?" Agatha's hand took a strand of Y/N hair into her hands, twisting it. "Are you that stubborn.

"Don't you know me?"

Agatha laughed as she gazed at Y/N. There was a lot she didn't actually know about her, but she was okay to find out. Preferably outside her sister's influence, a problem the witch would have to figure out how to deal now. One thing she was sure: no matter what, she wouldn't let Wanda take you apart.

[aurossaga]

You Turn my Shield on Me

Venti x gn!reader

Genre: i don't know i just write. no more questions

Word count: ~ 1.2k

Warnings: Mentions of a battle, weaponry

Summary:

He always asked if you'd protect him on your excursions. Turns out, he never needed to be protected after all.

The setting sun is doing little to warm you as you push yourself up from the cold, muddy ground. Your heart hammers wildly in your chest, chasing that rush of adrenaline as the sound of battle stills. Your weapon, dropped a distance away from you in the fray, glimmers mockingly at you as the light catches it. You had stumbled and fallen, but… that hardly matters right now. No, there are much more pressing matters at hand.

You look up at the man standing in front of you. His back still turned your way, an arm reaching out ready to draw another arrow at a moment’s notice. His moves are careful and practiced, practically perfectly honed. You’ve only ever seen aristocrats fight with such elegance and precision before…

Which is why this makes no sense.

“You’ll promise to protect me, right?”

It’s what he always says when you two go out exploring together. Or, rather when you go exploring and he tags along out of boredom. And you had always assured him that you’d never let harm befall him, always promised that you’d be his shield. After all, he was a novice at archery, he claimed. A bow was a difficult weapon to defend oneself with in the heat of battle without exceptional mastery of it.

Arrows still surging with Anemo energy litter the now desolate grounds turned battlefields. Each and every one of them had hit its target. Clean, lethal blows. As you finally catch your breath, remembering to breathe properly amidst your confusion, you see him turn to cautiously check on you.

“Are you alright…?”

…

There are so many things you want to say. So many things you want to ask. Your jaw drops open a few times over, you sputter and stutter and mumble out half-baked words and jumbled sentences until you give up, closing your mouth, and give him a slow, cautious nod. You are unharmed. And it was no thanks to yourself.

Venti watches you for another long moment. His eyes, much more focused than usual, scan you for injuries regardless of your insisting that you are fine. He knows you well. Quickly, that look is replaced by the familiar one you are so accustomed to. One you now doubt the sincerity of, just  a little bit. His shoulders relax and he exhales in relief for a moment before his posture straightens back up, his bow lowering to his side.

“Well, that’s a relief… We sure were lucky these monsters were on the easier side!”

Those words sting a lot more than you expected, though you can’t quite pinpoint why. Perhaps it’s because you know it’s not quite true. Perhaps It’s because you know those enemies hit hard. Fast. Ruthlessly.

And they certainly don’t stall for long enough for an inexperienced archer to pluck them off one by one like that.

And yet…

“You were incredible back there.” The words slip out before you can think to stop them. You’re not quite sure if it’s words of praise or an accusation. His mastery of the bow, the precision in his strikes… You couldn’t wrap your head around it. He said he wasn’t capable of that. That he needed your protection.

He blinks, and for a moment, his eyes shy away from yours, his lips pressed together a bit firmer than usual. Maybe this is what guilt looks like on him. But then he smirks, the easygoing, almost careless expression you’ve grown so accustomed to returning as if it had never left in the first place.

“Really, now? Praise from my most dearest muse, is it? I must fetch my pen at once, lest I mistake it for a dream!”

You’re not sure what comes over you. His words were nothing out of the ordinary from him, he’d tease and poke fun all the time. But… For him to act so casually, so normal after a display like that…

It irritates you.

“You said you were a novice,” you practically snap. “That it was just a hobby.”

“And you don’t believe me?” His tone is light, teasing, but there’s something guarded in his eyes. He steps closer, offering a hand to help you up. You hesitate for just a moment, but you take his hand, only now realizing that those delicate hands that pen the most beautiful prose you’ve ever read are firmer, sturdier than you could recall. Or perhaps you were only noticing now that you knew to look for it. He pulls you up to your feet with ease.

“I… No! Why should I?” you demand, brushing dirt from your roughed up clothes. “I’ve never seen you fight like that before..! Or, at all, for that matter! What was all that?” You gesture to the field littered with arrows and fallen enemies, your eyes never leaving his.

He tilts his head innocently to the side, his smirk fading slightly.

“Does it… matter that much?”

“Yes, it matters!!!” you exclaim, the words spilling out before you have the time or restraint to stop them. “It matters because I trusted you to rely on me! And now I find out you didn’t need me at all?”

There it is. The heart of your frustrations, the reason your chest aches as much as your bruised body. You’ve always been the protector, the shield, someone you wanted him to rely on. To feel safe with. And he’d let you believe he needed you, too. But now that picture in your mind breaks into a thousand pieces, and you both know very well you won’t be able to put it back together, no matter how much you try. You were too smart to believe his words, his deflections.

You hang your head, your gaze falling down to the muddy grounds beneath you. Though you can’t see his face, you can practically hear his emotions in the tone of his voice. It’s… raw. A bit more intimate than you think he intended.

“I never said I didn’t need you,” he whispers, his voice low and even as he takes a step closer. “I just don’t want to stand in the way of your talent…”

He seems almost unsatisfied with his own choice of words. Slowly, his hand reaches out, searching for yours, taking hold of and wrapping around your fingers so delicately as if he’s asking permission.

“...My warrior, you would have had this in the box, regardless if I stepped in or not. I just… didn’t want to see you hurt. You don’t need my protection, but… you have it.”

It’s not quite an answer, and it certainly doesn’t answer as many questions as you would have liked. But, there’s an honesty in his tender voice that makes your heart hammer again. Your lips part, intending by all means to press him further, to demand answers about his skills, his lies…but the words die on your lips as your shoulders sag to match the dejected feeling of reluctant acceptance. You knew better than anyone how avoidant Venti could be when faced with such a direct accusation. You knew better than to press further to achieve nothing.

“...Okay. Let’s go home.”

His grip on your hand tightens, bringing your attention back to the moment. And as you walk home, he doesn’t let go of you even once. His grip is gentle, apologetic, begging for understanding and time to explain what happened today. And, albeit reluctantly, you grant him that grace as your fingers interlace with his.

[rini-rushed]

beloved pet.

☆ karasu x reader (gender not mentioned)

★ reader is pretty shitty all things considered | toxic couple dynamics | I DON'T CONDONE ANY OF THE (implied??) ACTIONS

notes: inspired by the songs beloved cat-> biz/LOLUET + my first time writing shitty people who're selfaware so please bare with me + ORIGINALLY was going to be kaiser but theres wine bottle hitting in the MV and i thought that i rather not write that

sypnosis -> during one night does karasu scale his surroundings like he does on the field, except now he uses it to learn more about the relationship he finds himself loving.

any normal person would leave right after you showed the signs, the signs that you weren't normal, you didn't think like a normal person, not normal about things, and sure as hell didn't do normal things.

but he wasn't exactly normal either, was he?

or maybe he was, and thats why he trapped himself in the cage of your love.

he didn't know how many hours had passed with this cold shackle grasping his neck, cold and barely heavy chains rolled off his shoulder and onto the bed, the curtains blocked the sky from giving him an idea of what time it was.

but all things considered, he knew he couldn't escape it.

he wouldn't.

even if the chain clasped around his neck and felt easy to break, Karasu knew better than to try and move against the impossible force, he knew his options were tied, but could you blame him?

you were just so cute and so eager to love him, and how could he refuse your affection? he'd be a fool to leave a ravishing figure like you, a fine little gal in a world of mindless fools.

oh but the pleasure of seeing you as a peer to a friend would be nothing compared to what the raven haired had felt a bit after the relationship was made official.

and what he found out after was nothing but a thrill to experience, it felt like with each day you spent together, the more transparent you became to him, more naked.

your silly antics like patting his hair, or whispering praises & cotton soft words, your soft caresses on his bed at night started to feel more calculated, oh he wasn't blind to any of that, you'd both be fools to assume that any of these things were to be gone unnoticed.

but he never minded any of it, especially if it meant you'd stay with him and kept lulling him to sleep with your soft charms, than his lips are sealed. whether he likes it or not.

karasu shifts in his spot in bed a bit more, feeling the shallow warmth over his body from his covers, it didn't even feel comfortable in his own bed anymore because of that fucking chain. it scales his senses to be chilly yet comforting, to remind him he's not alone.

it loops around his body, the most prominent one on his neck, that one was easy to feel, but there was soft weight rolling aournd his muscular torso, and even if the voices inside were whining and moaning to break the tiny metal vines, he ultimately ignored both the feeling and the voices.

it was easier to sit in this loving cage than trying to struggle to get out, even if the texture of the rusty chains would itch his skin like an annoying cat.

then came to the slightly more heavy metal bonds, cold snakes of silver could be felt entangled with his own legs, mocking the feeling of someone caring and cuddling with him as he slept.

as he drunk in his own observations of everything, he cracks open an eye, his surroundings confirmed himself to be on his bed, as for the chilly metal ropes he feels cuffing his limbs and neck..

his once vibrant purple eyes scale his physical surroundings, nothing out of the ordinary, just the way he had left it, he's about to lower his eyelids when a shiver seized him by the spine.

he tilts his head ever so slightly to see what was going on behind him, and thats when it hit him.

it was never chains or shackles or.. anything!

it was always you.

your legs in between his curled slightly around his thighs, your cheek resting on his nape buried deeper, your breaths pushing against his bare skin the intimate contact that wasn't even contact.

your arms around his torso only tightened ever so slightly, clinging onto him, bounding him to the bed, bounding himself to you.

like he was some pet, cuffed to their post, waiting for their owner to come home.

erm that was lowkey unorganized im sorry

#istilldontknowhowtoendthese...

@sharkissm cause you love ur man right...

tags:

@mininji @tofumiarchives @atlantic-sailor @the-lazyyy-artist

@rinitoshiplzdateme @fishii-writes @reapkusho

[vodika-vibes]

omg I can absolutely request something for kix, literally I'll take anything i love him so much

i'm not too fussy but maybe something hurt/comfort vibes with non-established relationship? if that takes your fancy, can be sfw or nsfw however it works out

love your writing sm :)

Watching Over You

Summary: ou know that Kix is “dealing” with his new truth by not dealing with it, and you know it’s only a matter of time before he falls apart. You’ll be there for him, until he no longer needs you.

Pairing: Pre Pirate!Kix x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1113

Warnings: Kix is straight up not having a good time.

A/N: So, this could be seen as platonic or pre-romantic, but I'm happy with it, but that might just be because it's Kix. Anyway, I hope you like it!

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

“Alright, we’re all set,” You say as you step out of the shop while tugging your new gloves over your hands, “You sure you don’t need anything while we’re here?”

“From Nar Shaddaa?” Kix asks, as he tears his gaze away from a stall selling, probably stolen, speeders. “Hard pass. How do you know those are going to be any good?”

“Leather gloves are leather gloves, babe.” You counter as you hold your, now glove-covered, hands in front of your face, “They don’t need to be the best leather gloves in the galaxy, they just need to be able to protect my hands from the cold.”

Kix huffs, “You should let me run some blood tests. There’s no reason for you to be cold all of the time–”

“Hard pass, Doc.” You counter, “If I’m dying from some blood disease, I don’t want to know.”

Kix sighs again, and finally focuses his attention on you, “You’re impossible.”

“And yet still so adorable.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

“Thanks! I will.”

He shoots you a look, and you grin at him, “Come on, Kix. Let’s get out of here before the Hutts take offense at our presence.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He falls into step next to you, while you chatter his ear off about anything and everything that crosses your mind.

In the almost year that you’ve known, and traveled, with Kix, you’ve learned that he doesn’t like quiet. When there’s too much quiet he gets lost in his own mind, and starts spiraling.

And so, you fill the silence with stories, with mindless chatter, with music or movies or shows. Anything and everything you can do to make his suffering a little easier, you will do.

Honestly, you’ve never spoken so much in your life as you have in the past year.

You stop mid-sentence, when you glance to the side and realize that Kix is no longer walking with you. Quickly, you scan the crowd around you, and you quickly find him.

At first, you’re not sure what caught his attention, but as you approach him, you see what his gaze is locked on, and your heart sinks. He’s standing in front of an electronics store. An electronics store that has a massive holo showing a documentary about Darth Vader and his 501st.

Your jaw clenches and you slowly exhale, before you move to his side and wrap your arms around his arm, “Kix.” You keep your gaze on his face, on the pained, almost lost, expression that he wears when he’s lost in the past, “It’s time to go.”

He doesn’t react to your voice, but he also doesn’t stop you when you start tugging him away from the shop. And he doesn’t fight you when you walk him back to the spaceport and back to your ship.

In fact, in spite of your chatter, Kix is completely silent. 

He doesn’t say anything until you’re back on your ship. “Hey, can we wait a bit before we take off?”

You watch him for a moment, “Why?”

“I’d like a proper shower, and the water shower doesn’t work properly in space.” Kix replies.

“Mm, yeah. Okay.”

You pretend that you don’t notice him grabbing the portable holo as he heads into the fresher, and half an hour later, when you hear a quiet sob from the fresher, you turn on some music so he can have some privacy.

There’s no way for you to understand his grief.

Kix once had 2 million brothers…and now he’s alone in the galaxy. Only, he’s not alone, he has you, and he’ll continue to have you until he no longer needs you. And even then, you’ll stick around until he tells you to leave.

Personal loyalty to your friends has always been your fatal flaw, according to your old school teachers.

When he finally emerges from the fresher, his eyes are red and he looks exhausted. Bone deep exhausted.

You watch him for a moment, and then you sigh, “Kix,”

He glances at you, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not okay, Kix. And that’s okay.” You set the bowl that you were using to make some meatballs on the counter and walk over to him to take his hands in yours, “I...have given you your space, but maybe I shouldn’t have.”

“Listen, you don’t have to do this.”

You squeeze his hands, “Yes, I do. I…cannot even begin to understand the kind of loss that you suffered. I can’t. No one can. But you’re not alone in this.”

“My whole family is dead, cyare.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re alone.” You counter, “I will be here for you, for as long as you accept it. And probably longer.”

He stares at you, and then he sighs and drops his cheek on the top of your head while hooking his arms around your waist, “I don’t deserve you.”

“You’re wrong about that too, but I can be patient with you.”

The pair of you don’t say anything for a while, “What are you making?”

“Meatballs. We’re having pasta for dinner. With homemade noodles.”

“Huh. Have you made the dough yet?”

You smile at him, “Nope, I know you like that part. The ingredients are in the fridge.”

Later, as he’s kneading the dough while you sing along to the radio and form meatballs, he turns down the music and glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

“What’s up?” You ask, without looking at him.

“Can I sleep with you tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”

“Whatever you need, Kix. You just need to ask.” You reply, turning to look at him with a fond smile on your face.

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he sighs, “Also…?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think you can put me in contact with Luke Skywalker? I’d like to get to know him…and maybe share some stories about his dad.”

“Mm, I don’t know if I can get you in contact with Master Skywalker, but I can probably get you in contact with General Organa-Solo.” You reply lightly, “She might be able to get you in touch with Master Skywalker.”

“...thanks, cyare.”

“Like I said, Kix. Whatever you need. For however long you need it.”

The pair of you go back to your respective projects and as you finish forming the last meatball and pull your food prep gloves off, he reaches over and takes your hand in his, “Thank you.”

You grin at him and thread your fingers with his to give his hand a squeeze, “No worries, Kix. I’ll watch over you until you’re ready to look after yourself. And then I’ll keep doing it. That’s what I do.”

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@mira-loves-star-wars

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@cc--2224

@adriennelenoir

@cdblake1565

@sweater-sloot

@heidnspeak

@wax-birds

@silly-starfish

@lonewolflupe

@maniacalbooper

@rebell-ious

[i-cant-believe-its-not-gay]

Headcanon time!

We all saw the Rescue Bots in their protoform… forms before scanning their vehicles, yes? Well, from my understanding, protoforms are basically underdeveloped Cybertronians. My headcanons for them come from that.

- All the bots have stunted heights because of that. As in, shorter than Arcee. It makes it easier to save the humans.

- Their voice boxes aren’t as clear as normal human noises due to being underdeveloped, they all kinda sound like UTAUs but in different resamplers

- Before they went to the academy, they get hurt easily since protoforms have thinner armour. But they eventually made modifications to their bodies to make them more durable

Miscellaneous headcanons below the cut!

- They initially fought a lot when they first got teamed together in the academy, but eventually got closer

- Heatwave was basically the heartthrob of the academy

- The reason why Boulder doesn’t have the regular visor is because one time in the academy, he was just passing by (wearing his visor) the quadrangle when a cube (the one they use for the cube sport) suddenly crashed into the side of his visor like a meteor, sending it flying. He couldn’t find it after that incident so he just opted for the ones that stuck close to his optics.

- When they were in the academy, the mods they had installed to their body made them stronger, faster, and durable, but also made them very bulky (and they still are after scanning their Earth modes)

- The flashlight optic things are actually a modification from the academy

- The desks they had in the academy were like the armchairs in the Philippines, (iykyk) but they kept sitting on each other’s desks to the point it’s still a habit they do even after training

- O.A, they’re all O.A but they mostly keep it under wraps (except for Blades)

- The four all had land based vehicle modes back on Cybertron, and they love to race with each other after classes

- They LOVE gossiping, they hate to be involved but love hearing it (afterschool gossiping 😍)

- They rarely go to clubs and bars because they’re always busy in Cybertron (and partly because they’re lightweights)

- Boulder picks up the nearest bot next to him when hearing good news (like how he did in Chase’s run for mayor)

- Chase can’t cook to save his life, even if it’s Cybertronian cuisine, Boulder knows how to chop things but doesn’t really know much about how to actually cook, Heatwave can cook a decent bit, but keeps burning things (how ironic), and Blades is the only one who knows how to cook and bake since he was a servant when he was young

- The moment Blades got his first paycheck as a Rescue Bot, he bought all the sweets he wanted alongside some for his team (and made the cashier laugh with the amount of candy he got)

- Boulder, Chase, and Blades got a little bit more violent after being teamed up with Heatwave

- The rescue crew all have outlier abilities

- They all have masks (like Optimus’s) but they rarely use it on Earth since the incidents aren’t as dire

- Blades is very, very familiar with tropa time

- Heatwave gets embarrassed when showing affection to his team when it isn’t small gestures like a hand to the shoulder or nudges but tries to get out of his comfort zone from time to time

- Boulder had the most ankle injuries out of them all when they first landed on Earth (like how do you even walk on those shovels???)

- The team occasionally sings happy birthday (or the Cybertronian equivalent) when trying to wake up a member because it’s funny

- Chase got teased a lot because of his shiny, smooth helm

- A few members of Team Prime visit Griffin Rock for reports under Optimus’s command (and that’s how Smokescreen met Blades). They all understand what Optimus is trying to do for them and respects his decision to not throw them into war

- And the Rescue Crew loves it, they keep asking for stories of war (mostly Heatwave though)

- Optic colour headcanons: Heatwave has red-orange, Boulder has yellow, Chase has bluish-gray, and Blades has green

Got to the end? Congrats! Thank you for listening to me yap :DDD

[yourstarstruckbeloved]

first glimpse of red

in which seishiro nagi veers dangerously close to the path of nihility.

content/warnings: 1.1k words, blue lock x hsr au??? cross fandom fic— this is not a shipfic!!! acheron is here purely as a guide, a LOT of discussion of nihilism and pointlessness and such, like two mentions of death, acheron might be ooc warning, if there’s anything i missed pls let me know

author’s note: i’ve been OBSESSED with the idea of nihility follower nagi— well, not an emanator since emanators of nihility technically can’t exist, so at least whatever acheron is. this is me trying to coherently put it all into words <3

seishiro nagi rubs his eyes and stretches, yawning as he does so. he boots up his PC once more, and shuts it back off when he realises that even playing another game would be too much effort. nagi is tired. sighing as he closes his eyes, seishiro nagi slumps on his chair. the time blurs into monochrome. 

reason.

what reason did nagi have to do anything at all? why does he wake up in the morning just to go back to sleep at night? he immediately discards the thoughts from his mind, concluding that it would be a hassle to think about them anymore. and unknowingly, he finds himself walking a step closer towards the edge of the looming blackhole in the horizon of existence. nagi isn’t someone who spends his time dwelling on matters like this— he’d much rather get to the root of a problem as quickly as possible and cut it right off, so it would never grow to be a bother again.

nagi doesn’t know what path he treads on. all he knows is he tends to choose those with easy exits and no catches. what does he even want? it just so happens that the easiest path nagi finds himself to be able to tread on is one of listless monochrome. a lot of people have asked him why he finds everything to be a hassle. he shrugs and says that he doesn’t know. it’s true that he doesn’t, but it’s not like he’s ever bothered to find the answer to the question. and it’s not like he’s asked himself why he doesn’t bother.

nagi doesn’t care. he’s been this way for as long as he could remember. 

he meets a purple haired woman in his journey through IX’s landscape. acheron is someone that accidentally stepped into the path of nihility and ventured a bit too far into IX’s shadow. for a fleeting moment, nagi wonders why she couldn’t just have steered course away from nihility, but realises he doesn’t care that much about the answer.

pointlessness.

it finally dawns on him, why he thinks of everything as a hassle. the answer had always been with him, he never had to go look. all of nagi’s actions stem from wanting to eradicate all burden and hassle from his life. he recounts this to acheron, and she comes to the realisation that she and nagi probably weren’t cut from the same cloth; they were two individuals on vastly different courses of life, that happened to intersect at this very moment. unlike acheron who happened to be thrown onto this path completely by accident, nagi seemed like he was destined to follow nihility since birth. he’d always found everything pointless, enough to feel disengaged from everyone and everything around him to some degree, at least. 

but then again, unlike acheron, nagi has an easier exit from this path than she does. she’s carved this one singular path for herself out of the hardest stone, in a resolve to reach the light beyond the black disc of nothingness, and to guide people who cross paths with her by making them pick a certain choice that she offers.

well… calling it a choice offered by her would be putting it in the crudest and vaguely inaccurate terms. she’s not the one steering their lives, even for this fleeting moment; she could never take credit for such a thing. she simply shows people possibilities, and lets them decide for themselves which one they’d like to walk towards.

nagi can articulate now that the basis of his attitude to most things in life is because of the pointlessness he associates with everything. so, what now?

but then this leads acheron to question if nagi truly was someone born for nihility, or if he was just another one of the poor souls that was led astray and accidentally ended up on IX’s monochrome path; because, well, no one’s point of existence could truly be to pursue nihility— anyways, it’s not like the answer to that question matters, she surmises.

there is nothing left for nagi to do in this reality except for think, and so he does. why did he keep pressing on until this moment despite the pointlessness of his existence? well, he wouldn’t say he particularly pressed on to live— had death come knocking on his door, he would’ve followed it out with a shrug of his shoulders. do you keep living despite the pointlessness of it all, or do you actively try to find meaning in your actions?

cut that out, the answer to that question is pointless— humans keep living on, regardless of their answers.

slowly, the pieces of the puzzle come together. some pieces are still missing, but he gets the wider picture. in a first, he asks acheron why humans strive to keep living despite the void of meaninglessness that the universe is based upon. she tells him that red is the colour of existence, and that it will be the first colour that will bloom, only for a fleeting moment in this monochrome universe. she asks him if he would roam in search of that first streak of crimson or if he would pick up a brush and paint it into existence. and when a choice is made, it shall reappear once more. in other words, will you search for meaning, or will you create meaning for yourself?

nagi wonders why her question wasn’t about following the halo of light at the end of nothingness— isn’t acheron a guide to those who walk this path? almost as if she hears his thoughts, she clarifies that it would be a pointless question for her to ask. his mouth opens to question her once more, but the word why? gets caught in his throat, as the realisation hits him like a speeding truck. every life is destined to end with the nihility, no matter what— it’s almost like a primal instinct, the way every being is naturally drawn to the light beyond the nothingness. perhaps, that is why a life that edges closer to death fervently approaches nihility, and further aspires to reach the end of it. so, will you strive to fill your life with meaning, or will you willingly thrust yourself into the meaningless pursuit of the primordial light, like acheron has?

he understands now. he picks up a paintbrush that lies fallen at his feet, streaks and blotches of red trailing with its bristles. he walks, but acheron doesn’t care to discern whether he’s walking towards the blackhole or not. she smiles wistfully, slashing her blade and tearing apart the spatio-temporal fabric of the horizon of existence. seishiro nagi wakes up in a cold sweat, finding himself in front of his PC once more, the words you died plastered in big red letters on his screen.

[skzhocomments]

1437 - “I need your help; I have money to pay you.” - Lee Know (Stray Kids) - Hitman AU

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---

1437 - “I need your help; I have money to pay you.” - Lee Know (Stray Kids) - Hitman AU

Word count: 4k words

Wattpad | AO3

~

Writing Prompt 1437: “I need your help; I have money to pay you.” - Lee Know

~

This sucks. Minho thinks, letting out a large sigh and picking up some painkillers.

He hasn’t eaten much today, or the past few days, really, so it probably isn’t a good idea to take another ibuprofen on an empty stomach. He’s surely going to regret it, already feeling an impending stomach ache, but his head just hurts so badly. It won’t stop pounding.

He’s already tried drinking water, but oh, God, the white light coming from the ceiling is making everything worse. He really needs to take this pill.

The one thing he hasn’t tried is sleeping, but how could he sleep when there’s so much work to do?

A new file came in just today.

~

Kim Soo-ah, 25 years old. Picture attached.

Waitress: Mon-Fri 8:00-14:00 Endstreet 34, Cornerstone Diner

Maid: Mon-Sat 16:00-12:00 Client’s residence

Requirements: Eliminate target during Diner shift. Target wears a silver ring, has a small brown mole underneath. Send finger and ring as proof once you finish the job.

~

What did this girl do? Minho wonders. It’s the second request to finish off a maid he’s received from this client, but he was too busy for the first one, so he passed it over to one of his associates.

Although he dislikes working for this particular client, he always pays generously, so this time, he decides to accept it.

He’s a bit curious to know why his client keeps wanting to get rid of his maids. In case they heard something they shouldn’t have, it’d be much easier to silence them through other ways rather than killing them. Less of a hassle for Minho, at least. However, he can’t ask. That’s not his job.

His job is to simply follow these instructions to the best of his abilities and get paid. Nothing more, nothing less. Curiosity has no place in his line of business, and he’s better off not knowing any other details.

Before having enough time to flip the page and look at her photo, though, his door opens, making him raise his eyes from the papers.

“Boss, someone’s here to see you.” His assistant enters the room with haste, making Minho raise an eyebrow.

No one should know of this location, so he is taken aback for a few short moments, before clearing his throat and deciding that he must know who found him, and why.

“Show them in.” Minho instructs, and his assistant rushes outside.

Damn, this fucking white light. He groans again and decides to end his suffering and simply turn on the lamp on his desk, even though he forgot his glasses God knows where and he can barely see the papers in front of him.

Moments later, his assistant comes back with a woman small in stature. She has blonde, wavy hair reaching her shoulders, and her eyes are a deep shade of emerald green.

She is intimidated, Minho observes, as he sees the way this woman is trembling in front of him, anxiously playing with her fingers and looking left and right just to not look him in the eyes.

“Take a seat.” He orders, and the girl is quick to sit down in the chair he offered on the other side of his desk.

“Thank you…” She says, her voice so small, it almost comes out in a whisper.

“Now, who might you be?” Minho asks confidently, his tone slightly bored, although he’s actually brimming with curiosity.

“Uhm… my name is Soo-ah. Kim Soo-ah.” She replies hesitantly, and Minho immediately looks at the papers on his desk and grabs her picture, and oh, what a pleasant surprise.

It’s not every day that the prey comes directly to your doorstep.

“Are you perhaps… Lee Know? And if not… could you please take me to him?” She asks, and Minho raises his eyebrow again.

He notices her clutching her bag tightly. She is quite literally trembling with fear, which makes him want to laugh. She is so painfully afraid of being in the same room as him, he can’t help but want to play with her.

“That would be me.” He replies with a cocky smirk. “Why did you want to see me, pretty?”

“I… uhm… if I understood your… profession… correctly, that must mean you are a… hitman of some sort?” She tries to thread carefully, and Minho can’t help himself anymore. He lets out a chuckle at this girl’s innocence.

“You are correct, doll. So, what brings you here?”

“I need your help. There’s someone I’d like you to… uhm… to k- to kill. I-I have money to pay you. Uhm…” She stutters and starts rummaging through her bag, pulling out a few stacks of rolled hundreds. “I’m not sure how much your services cost, but…”

“How much is in there?” He asks, his eyes sparkling with excitement. The rolls are far too small, and too few. It can’t be more than a couple thousands, if that.

“Around $3000. It’s not much, but… it’s all I’ve managed to save up so far. If it costs more, I could get a loan, or-”

“$3000?” Minho cuts her off with a laugh. “You can’t be serious!”

The woman’s expression falls, her eyebrows furrowing in a frown.

“Pretty, that much isn’t enough for me to even cut off someone’s finger, let alone kill a whole person.”

“Oh… how much would it be, then?”

“That depends. Who’s the target?”

“My boss…” She clutches the bag tighter, telling him his name and address. Of course, he expected it to be his client, so this doesn’t really surprise him.

“Oh, love.” Minho chuckles again. “That man is one of the most powerful in the country, you must know since you’re working for him. Taking him out would cost millions. You wouldn’t afford it in this lifetime.”

Soo-ah looks away.

“Why don’t you tell me why you want this man dead?”

“I think he’s planning to get rid of me… Actually, I’m sure of it.”

“Why?” Minho inquires further.

“I… I saw something I shouldn’t have.” She replies, clenching her fists.

“Be more explicit, doll.” He says, and Soo-ah shifts in her seat uncomfortably. By her mannerisms, Minho can tell she finds this hard to talk about, or she doesn’t know if she should tell him at all.

She hesitates for a few more moments until she eventually starts speaking again.

“I am a live-in maid… I woke up to go to the bathroom and his room is on the way… the door was opened, and there were some very influential people and a large stack of cash on top of his desk. They saw me, so I ran away and hid. There was this other maid that told me about something she’s seen, and one day, she simply disappeared, so I was scared… I think that's what's going to happen to me too.”

“I see.” Minho nods. “Wrong place wrong time, huh?”

“Yeah…”

“So, how did you find me?”

“Much like last night, I went to the bathroom a few months ago and overheard a conversation-

“Damn, you should really stop going to the bathroom at night.” Minho jokes, cutting her off. She doesn’t seem too amused and resumes immediately.

“I overheard a conversation about hitmen, and my boss told someone a couple of names and addresses.”

“My name? What exactly did he say?”

“Yes. Your name and many others. Lee Know, Hwang, Yongbok…”

“Alright. And this address?”

“Yes. This is the only one I could remember… Considering this… topic… I didn’t really want to hear much else or risk him catching me overhear anything I shouldn’t, so I ran back to my room.” Soo-ah nods, and Minho leans back in his chair.

They found out where he is, which is bad news. Of course, he has many other secret hideouts throughout the city in case something like this would happen, but still. The fact that he didn’t know about it is dangerous. And apparently, this man also has some sort of information about his associates.

This is bad news.

The most relevant thing in his profession is secrecy. If anyone would know where to find him, he would’ve been dead long ago.

“Thank you, Soo-ah. That’s great information you offered me right there. However, just for future reference, information is not free. You just missed out on your chance to negotiate with me.” He chuckles menacingly, and her expression only falls more.

She doesn’t know what to say, but noticing Minho’s piercing gaze on hers, she decides to look him right in the eyes and do something she never thought she would.

She stands up and walks slowly around the desk, his eyes fixed on her, and she kneels in front of him, beginning to tear up.

“Please. I’m begging you. Please help me. I’ll do anything. I… I don’t want to die… I’m so scared, Mister Lee Know. Please.”

Minho is taken aback, and something in his heart stirs at the sight.

Memories he’s long-ago repressed start surfacing back, and instead of seeing her kneeling in front of him, he sees a young boy with bruises all over his body begging for his life.

~

“Mister, please. I’ll do anything. Please help me! I’m begging you, please! I want to live!” Minho was barely able to get out between his tears, his forehead pressing against the cold, bloodied tiles.

“And why would I help you, kid?” The man in front of him laughed. “You’re young and stupid. You’re good for nothing. What can you give me?”

“Anything! I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?” The man laughed one more. “Will you kill someone for me, then?”

“K-kill? Mister…”

“If you’re not ready to lead such a life, you have no use to me, kid. You’re better off dead.”

“N-no! I will! I will kill! Please teach me what to do, Mister! I will do it!”

“What an obedient child.” The man cackled. “You know what, kiddo? I admire your fighting spirit. Even though life dealt you shitty hands, you still want to live?”

“I do! I want to live, so please…”

“Get up. From now on, your name will be Lee Know. And Lee Know, your first lesson is to never kneel in front of anyone, no matter the reason. That’s how we do things around here. Got it?”

~

“What can you give me, Soo-ah?” He asks, but this time, his voice doesn’t come off amused or menacing. It’s soft and filled with slight concern, and more than anything, with curiosity.

“Anything. I will do anything…” She cries.

“Anything?” Minho asks, and it’s such a contrast to how his former boss treated him. He is not being unnecessarily mean about it, and he is not forcing an answer out of her, although their circumstances are much the same.

He stands up and walks towards her, noticing how bad she’s still shaking.

He knows she’s desperate. However… how desperate is she, really? She’s been trembling ever since she came through the door. It’s clear to him that she doesn’t have it in her to ever be a killer. But still, would she give up her principles to stay alive, or will she stick to them?

He didn’t have the power to stick to his principles on that cursed day way too many years ago, and his whole life changed afterwards. He could never back down.

Would she do the same?

“Anything.” She replies determined, still looking at the floor.

“Will you kill someone for me, then?” Minho asks closing his eyes, his former boss’ words ringing in his head.

“K-kill?” Soo-ah shakes. It’s so difficult to see his past self in this trembling woman.

“If you’re not ready to lead such a life, you have no use to me, Soo-ah. You’re better off dead.”

The words are burning his tongue as he notices all the air disappear from the woman’s lungs.

She begins crying even louder, her hands moving on top of his shoes, holding tightly. Still, she is still not looking up at him.

“I… I can’t. I can’t… I can’t kill anyone. Please understand. I can’t…” She keeps repeating like a broken record, and Minho’s eyes widen.

She decided to stick to her principles, after all. She is better than him.

“Then-” He starts, but she immediately cuts him off.

“He will kill me. I’m so scared… I’m so scared of him, Mister. What can I do if you won’t help me? What if he’ll torture me to find out exactly how much I heard and if I told anyone else? Fuck, what do I do now? My life must be worth at least $3000. Please… please help me…” She speaks weakly, clutching his shoes tighter.

“Soo-ah, look at me.” He requests, but she just keeps shaking and crying.

Minho grabs her arms and helps her stand up, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

“Do you really want to live?” He asks, and she nods her head rapidly.

“I do. I want to live.” She cries.

“I want you to listen to me very carefully. I can’t let Kim Soo-ah live.”

“What?” She blinks, confused for a short moment, until it clicks. “Did… did my boss ask you to kill me?”

“He did. I received your file just this morning.” Minho smiles softly, his eyes filled with sadness.

“Then… I guess this is it for me. I was… I was a fool to come here. I thought… I thought I still had a chance…” She replies dejected. “Months ago, when I heard those names, I didn’t think much of it. However, today… I didn’t know where to go or what to do. I ended up coming here and hoped that maybe, just maybe… if I were to randomly pick one of those names...” She stops speaking, wiping away her tears from her cheeks.

“How did you remember my name and address, though? If it was months ago…”

“My memory is pretty good. Not that it matters anymore.” She smiles sadly and averts her gaze. “I came to the wrong person. It’s alright. It’s… If there’s no other way, will you at least make it quick, Mister? I don’t want it to hurt…”

“Soo-ah.” He places his hands on her shoulders, making her look at him again. “I said, I can’t let Kim Soo-ah live. We’re going to kill her tonight, do you understand?”

“I’m… not sure I do.” She tilts her head.

“From this moment forwards, Kim Soo-ah is dead. You will have to change your hair and your eye colour, and I will give you a new name… What about… Lee Saera?” He suggests after thinking for a few moments, his eyes rolling up.

“Lee… Saera?”

“Mhm. Isn’t it pretty?”

“I like it… but… why? Why are you helping me?” She asks, confusion lacing her tone. “Why are you helping me when you’ve been ordered to kill me?”

“Pretty, no one can order me to do anything.” He chuckles. “I was hired to kill you. But let’s just say… there’s something of me I found in you. Something long forgotten…” Minho replies, separating himself from her and putting his hands in his pockets. “I can’t kill your boss, but I can make sure he believes you’re dead, and in return… you will tell me everything you know about him, and everything he knows about us. You will stay here and help me.”

“Mister Lee Know, I can’t… I can’t kill people.” She whispers with a frown.

“And you won’t. You won’t walk down this path. I will do the killing, and you will do everything else I ask you to, in exchange for your life. How does that sound?”

He extends a hand towards her, and she doesn’t hesitate to grab it with both her hands and shake it.

“Thank you, Mister Lee Know. Thank you. Truly.” She looks him in the eyes, and Minho can tell she’s genuinely grateful. A small thought passed through his head that she could be a spy, but her feelings seem so genuine, he doesn’t doubt her one bit. She is just an unfortunate, young woman, who happened to work for the wrong people and heard and saw too much.

“Minho… Call me Minho, Soo-ah.”

“Minho?”

“Mhm. That’s my real name. Lee Minho. Use it only when we’re alone, and I will call you Kim Soo-ah. When anyone else is present, though, you are Saera and I am Lee Know, got it?”

“Yes, sir.” She nods.

“Good girl.” He smiles and pats her head two times. “Now, the first lesson you must learn if you are to join me, is… never kneel in front of anyone, no matter the reason. Not even me. Got it?”

“Okay... But Minho… how will you make my boss think I died?”

“Oh, right.” He sighs, grabbing her hand and dragging his fingers on top of her silver ring, taking it off and looking at the small mole underneath. “Soo-ah, your boss asked me to give him your finger as proof of killing you.”

“My… my finger?” She immediately snatches her hand back and looks at how closely Minho is examining her ring.

“Mhm. However…” Since she is now one of his people, he doesn’t want to hurt her. Not even a scratch. He doesn’t tell her that, though, because he doesn’t think he’ll have a choice.

How should he navigate this? Should he try and find a body with a matching mole? But what if they were to run any DNA tests?

“My ring… is a family heirloom. It’s extremely precious to me.” She speaks, interrupting his train of thoughts. “What if we would burn something and put the ring in the ashes as proof?”

“Oh?” Minho raises an eyebrow. “But what would we tell him to be convincing enough?”

“You found me hiding somewhere, and… I don’t know. You killed me, took my body to be incinerated to remove evidence, but almost got caught, so you burned it and brought back the ashes as proof?”

“I’m not sure that’ll fly with this guy, Soo-ah…”

“Then…” She raises her hand hesitantly in the air, and Minho sees how much she’s trembling. “Cut it… cut it off. It’s okay. It’ll hurt, but I’ll be alive, so…”

He shakes his head. He truly doesn’t want to hurt this woman for some reason. She doesn’t deserve to be hurt like this, not by him, not by anyone.

Still, there’s nothing he can do. Her former boss is a ruthless man, and he won’t believe him one bit if he were to just bring him her ring. He needs more proof than that.

“Soo-ah, will you forgive me if I hurt you deliberately?” He asks after a little while.

“Yes.” She answers without missing a beat. “You spared my life. You can cut it off, Minho. I will survive this.”

Despite her determined words, Minho knows she is just putting on a façade. She is scared, she is shaking, and he feels so bad. He’s never felt like this before, no matter who he had to kill. However, the prospect of causing this woman any sort of physical pain makes him feel terrible. He doesn’t want to do it, but if he is to prove he’s killed her, he must hurt her.

Minho grabs his phone from the desk and calls his assistant to bring in the doctor, and after ending the call, he grabs her hand and holds onto it tightly for a moment.

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry.” He speaks softly as he pulls out a knife from his pocket.

Her whole body is shaking, and she shuts her eyes tight.

“I won’t cut off your whole finger. I’ll only cut off enough skin to use as proof, and I’ll take your ring. Alright?”

“... Yes.” She whispers, anticipating the impending pain.

Minho takes in a deep breath as he presses the blade into her skin, listening closely to Soo-ah’s sounds. She places her other hand on top of her mouth and tries to be as quiet as possible as the blade rips through her skin.

She fights the urge to jerk her hand back, not that it would be possible with Minho’s strong hold of her wrist and finger.

“There. We’re done.” He speaks hurriedly as he grabs a clean cloth and covers her hand, pressing tightly on the wound. “The doctor will be here soon. Are you alright?”

“It hurts so bad.” She cries out in pain and Minho pulls her closer, hugging her tightly.

“It hurts, I know. But you are alive, and that’s all that matters. You are alive.”

“I am alive.” She repeats and hugs him back, and she can’t believe that so much could happen to her in a span of a day.

She wishes she would’ve never applied to that job. She wishes she would’ve never worked for that terrible man, but she got blinded by the large sum of money he offered, and she took the offer without any further thoughts on the matter, and she truly regrets it now. She always seems to only make bad choices.

The doctor comes in and cleans the wound, informing both of them that thankfully, it’s not large enough to require a skin graft. He is able to stitch it shut, although he informs Soo-ah that it will inevitably scar.

A scar is a small price to pay for her life, she thinks.

Left alone once more with Minho, she doesn’t know what to do. She stays silent and tries her hardest to stop crying and observes as he begins clearing off his desk.

“Soo-ah, you can sit down until I’m done.” He informs her, so she nods and heads back to the chair she sat in previously.

“What are you doing?” She asks after a little while.

“We need to go. This place is no longer safe, since your boss knows about it. I will also need to call my associates and let them know they should relocate.”

“And then… what?”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“What will happen to me?”

“I told you, haven’t I? We’ll get you a fake ID, change your appearance completely, and then… we’ll see. I still need to think about which tasks to give you, since you’re so…” Minho looks at her and stops, making her raise her eyebrows in surprise.

“I’m so… what?” She tilts her head to the side.

“So… righteous and innocent. I don’t even know what to do with you. You seem like you’d tremble and cry at the slightest mention of a murder.” He replies, and as if on cue, a shiver runs down her spine at the thought of potentially seeing a dead body, and she shakes.

“I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t apologise for being this way, Soo-ah. There’s nothing wrong with you.” He sighs. There really isn’t. Not everyone is made for this life, and he knows it. But unfortunately, some good people are forced into living like this, and she is one of them.

“I’ll do my best to not inconvenience you…”

“You can do some housework or… I don’t know. We’ll see.”

“Or… as I told you, my memory is pretty good. If you’re stumped with work and have too many documents to check, or information about anyone… I can read all of them for you and just summarize. I will certainly remember everything.” She suggests, and Minho smiles softly.

“That's good to know. But for now, let’s just get out of here, hm? We’ll see what tomorrow brings.”

“Alright.” She nods and smiles back. "Once we go to the new hideout... you should get some rest, Minho."

"Hm?"

"You seem tired... like you haven't slept in a while." She says, and Minho can't help but smile. She is observant.

"Alright. I'll make sure to sleep once we leave this place." He replies, and she smiles satisfied.

Soo-ah is glad that coming to him ended up being the good choice – the only good choice she’s ever made, she believes. She wonders how she could trust him so much in such a short amount of time.

Still, she trusts him, and he seems to trust her too, and she is alive. That’s all that matters.

~The End~

[waynes-multiverse]

Glad to hear the tête-à-tête with Ted went as expected 😂

Let's dive into this wonderful comment! 🤍

Seeing a glimpse of their growing friendship in the first flashback scene was somehow both sweet and bittersweet, but of course, there’s also that hint of “more” on Beau’s side that he’s desperately trying to hide. 😅

Definitely bittersweet 😭 Makes you really feel for Beau. What an incredibly tough situation to be in, honestly 💔

Loll not the dad voice! So sweet that he tried to “cut her off,” even though he ultimately wasn’t successful. Always more shit hitting the fan, isn’t there? 😬

Yup, and they both know it. They've picked a very hard job 😅 But it's hard to resist the dad voice! But there's understanding on both sides. Beau, for sure, knows what it's like to be obsessed with a case 🙈

That’s what makes their situation all the harder – the fact that she’s in law enforcement as well and understands this aspect of things all too well. 😰 It’s truly amazing that she and Beau were able to get past this hurdle and actually fall in love. It shows how forgiving she is, I think.

Yes, this 💯 And I definitely see her as forgiving. She knows who the real enemy is, and it ain't Beau. She knows even good people can make mistakes. Part of the job. Tragic, but it happens 🤷‍♀️ Plus, I think considering her own hidden feelings for him, she had an easier time seeing past all that.

HELP. I’m deceased. 🤣🤣🤣 I was smirking/laughing throughout this entire exchange, but this in particular took me out! Ted has nothing but audacity. But at least the reader had Beau’s back on this one. 😆

Glad that exchange made you laugh! I honeslty love writing those ridiculous scenes. This one reminded me somewhat of Ben vs. Colt in Rehab 😂

I imagine Ted as some stuck-up, somewhat bougeois prosecutor that both Beau and Randy talked a lot of shit about behind his back. So Beau's not only offended she dated him for himself, but probably for Randy too 🤣

Ahh, nice that they had this heart to heart, and also this revelation. But while of course that really does nothing to soothe Beau’s guilt, at least it allows her to forgive him.

I saw this mostly as an attempt to soothe Beau's guilt. You can tell she was still a bit judgmental in her thoughts à la "Well, I, the genius, wouldn't have done it/seen right through it, but oh well, guess not everyone can be me..." 😅

Eventually, she forgave him either way because she knows the risks and dangers of the job and that not every decision you make will be the right one in the end

LMAO Oh Beau. You’re right, it is funny to imagine him saying “slimy coyote.” 😂 Bet this is what he wishes would happen to Ted:

Oh, he for sure wanted to Wile E. Coyote Ted 🤣🤣

Oooh what a declaration that is from her! The fact that Beau’s the best she’s ever had, even including Randy, I’m assuming. 😅

Well, there's two options lol, right? Either she only said it to make him feel better, knowing his insecurities. Or, it's fully true and she decided to go for it. I honestly think it's the second. Beau seems to match her energy a bit better than Randy probably did 😂🔥

And Beau, sweet Beau, that was a beautiful rom-com worthy line right there. 💗

Ikr? Imagine Carla hearing that! She'd be livid 😂😂 But I enjoyed playing with the lines there of "first loves" vs. "true loves"

Ooh shit, Diane is certainly up to something. 😬😬

Oh boy, we all should be concerned! She might have some (deathly) surprises up her sleeve... 👀

Polaris – Chapter 7

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff, angst, serial killer, mentions of cartels, grief, smut

Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: The chapter where we find out why Ted is on Beau's punch list aka The One With Ted... 😂

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 7: Storm Coming

May 2021

“I sold the house,” you said, your voice ripping through the quiet of the car during another starry stake-out night.

“So you’re homeless now?” Beau joked and peeled his eyes away from the front window view and glanced at you from the driver’s seat, his hand resting on the steering wheel, the other one in his lap.

You chuckled. “Yup, but I got a hot plate now in my motel room and one of those Italian moka pots. So, you know, some would say I’m living the dream.”

Beau snorted in amusement before he pensively rubbed his mouth with two fingers. “You didn’t have to sell the house, you know?”

You heaved a sigh. “Yeah, I kinda did, though… I didn’t like staying in there anymore. It’s just… too many memories, I guess? ‘Sides, I’m always down here anyways. Actually considering moving here.”

Beau frowned at you, his nose scrunching. “What, to Mexico? Are you nuts? Over my dead body are you doin’ that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had a say in it,” you retorted rather playfully and put a shocked palm on your chest in mock.

“Damn right, I do,” Beau scoffed his reply with a teasing grin. “Who do you think is lookin’ out for ya, huh?”

“Wait, you think you are? That’s what you believe?” You snorted a laugh, entering banter territory with him.

It was usually how you passed your time during most of these stake-outs – laughing, teasing, and the occasional talking about your problems. You’d never known Beau like this before. He was your husband’s best friend, but he had been more of an acquaintance to you. Now, after months of spending close to every day together, it felt like he was your best friend. Since Randy’s death, he’d been there for you, even if it was mostly out of guilt.

“Yeah, what d’you think?” Beau countered challengingly.

“Oh sweetie, you’re not looking after me. I’m looking after you,” you stated confidently. The smile that twitched on his lips seemed to actually agree with you. “Out of the two of us, you’re the way bigger wreck. Some would even think it’s your husband who died, not mine.”

“Are you calling me a girl?”

You coolly shrugged your shoulders. “Either I’m calling you a girl, or I’m calling you gay. I’ll let you pick.”

Laughingly, Beau scoffed and muttered, “You wish I was gay.”

However, you still heard his mumbled reply and responded, “Actually, I wish you were a girl and that I was gay.”

Beau stared at you and leaned back against the door for a better view of you, his brow raised and the corners of his lips drawn slightly upwards in amusement. “What are we even talking about?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted with a shake of your head.

The two of you then burst into loud laughter that filled the entire SUV. For a moment, all your sorrows and hardships seemed to be forgotten, carried away to the desert with the nightly breeze. Then, the familiar and comfortable quiet took over the car again.

“I’m moving out of the house, too,” Beau said, his eyes focusing on the barren landscape and desolate road ahead. “I’m giving it to Carla. I mean, she didn’t ask me to. God knows she can take care of herself… But I want Emily to keep living in the home she grew up in, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that. That’s really nice,” you said quietly. Your soft smile then morphed to a grin. “So you’re homeless, too, huh?”

Beau laughed, throwing his head back into the seat. “Yeah, guess I am. Maybe we should live together?” he suggested half-jokingly.

“Like roommates? Ugh, God no!” You scoffed in abhorrence. “We’re way too old for that. You’re over forty, I’m barely in my thirties–”

“You do know I know exactly how old you really are, right?” Beau teased.

You decided to ignore that jab and continued, unbothered. “It would be seriously so sad. The Widow And The Divorcee – sounds like the worst sitcom on the planet. ‘Sides, it’d be super awkward if one of us starts dating again.”

“Fine, maybe you’re right,” Beau relented with a soft chuckle and then glanced at you sideways. His heart gained speed in his chest. “You ever think about it? Dating? Gettin’ out there again? Been nine months.”

You twitched your shoulders, choosing not to look at him. “I don’t know. Is nine months long enough after your husband died?”

Thoughtfully, Beau licked his lips and let out a small sigh. “I don’t think there’s a timeline, or a right and wrong. I just think it’s one of those things that when you’re ready, you’re ready.”
 “Well, consider me not ready then, I guess,” you replied honestly.

“Alright,” Beau accepted, bobbing his head. “But I still think you should try again at some point, you know? You shouldn’t be alone for the rest of your life. First of all, it’d be a total waste, ‘cause, I mean, look at you. And secondly, you’re barely in your thirties, after all,” he repeated your earlier joke with a soft grin.

You felt the heat creep to your cheeks in the moonlight. As you looked at him, you could see his smirk, making you laugh. “Noted,” you replied and were thankful for his pep talk. “I mean, there’ve been offers.”

Beau quirked one eyebrow, a hard lump forming in his throat as his chest tightened. “Offers? Like plural? Who?”

“Well, just some of the guys from our team. Cody, Jordan, Ted…” you named a few. “Also a few locals. Remember those guys we played pool with a few weeks ago? Two of ‘em asked for my number.”

“Huh. That is plural…” Beau pursed his lips and couldn’t keep his brow from wrinkling, his grip on the steering wheel stiffening. “Well, you know, when you’re not ready, you’re not ready. Shouldn’t force anything. No rush, darlin’.”

Smooth, Beau thought wryly with an internal sigh.

“Right, I know,” you agreed. “I do miss sex, though. Getting kinda bored of my vibrator.”

Beau choked on his spit. “Jesus…”

“What? Am I not allowed to talk about it? I thought we were friends. You’re supposed to care about my well-being and happiness,” you argued, frowning.

“I do care. Just… Can we please not talk about that?” he begged and exhaled a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his freckled nose.

“Fine. I miss having women around…” You shrugged and muttered, “Didn’t peg you for a prude.”

“Okay, let’s just get one thing straight – I’m not a prude,” he clarified in defense, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red.

“Alright, also noted,” you quipped, smirking to yourself. Sometimes you enjoyed making him a little uncomfortable. His blushed cheeks could be quite cute. “What about you? Have you still not talked to Carla? I’m sure you can win her back if you tried. You’re a lot better now.”

“Well, thank you for the, uh, vote of confidence, but it’s really over, I guess. We just talked about all the divorce proceedings last time. I actually think she started datin’ someone recently,” Beau told you.

Your eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really? Who?”

“I guess some rich tech guy. I don’t know…”

“And you’re good with that?” you questioned in disbelief.

Beau scoffed a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Ha, no… But what am I gonna do? Kinda shot myself in the leg with that one. I don’t blame her for moving on. It’s been over for months now.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry. I was kinda rooting for you two,” you admitted.

“Well, thanks, but we weren’t you and Randy,” Beau said. It made your brow knit.

“What d’you mean?”

“C’mon, you know what I mean,” Beau replied as if it were obvious, but you still shook your head. He sighed. “You and Randy would’ve never gotten divorced.”

“You don’t know that.” Honestly, you doubted it yourself, but you were too curious to find out what he meant by his statement.

“I do know that,” Beau insisted with certainty. “You guys had that once-in-a-lifetime kinda love. The kind that made other people jealous, you know? Your love made every other relationship pale in comparison. I always figured once the honeymoon phase was over, you’d settle and be less vomit-inducing, but that never happened. Me and Carla were never like that. Not even in the beginning,” he explained, a small, soft smile shaping his mouth. “You guys were special. True love. The stuff folk singers write cheesy songs about.”

“I guess we were,” you mused quietly, the memory of everything Randy was to you causing tears to well in your eyes.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Beau apologized as soon as he noticed the sadness on your face. He reached his hand over to your side and squeezed your thigh gently, just above the knee.

“No, it’s alright,” you brushed him off, swallowing your heartache down. “But hey, if Carla wasn’t your once-in-a-lifetime, maybe she’s still out there. You just haven’t found her yet. I mean, that’s kinda a nice outlook, right?”

Licking his lips, he bobbed his head, his gaze focused on his hand on the steering wheel. “I doubt it.”

“Why? Never say never,” you said encouragingly.

“Well, maybe I already met her, and it’s too late now,” he replied. It sounded more like an actual fact than a hypothetical theory. You found yourself wondering.

“What, did you have like an old college flame? The one that got away?” you teased lightheartedly, but he only grew more serious.

“Somethin’ like that,” he replied vaguely, rubbing his mouth with his fingers.

“Look her up on Facebook. Maybe she’s divorced, too. You could reconnect or something,” you suggested. He nodded but didn’t seem too convinced. You then shot him a hesitant glance from your periphery. “So, now that Carla’s moving on, are you gonna start dating now, too? Jump back into the game?”

“I guess so… Why?” A part of him was curious to hear your response, while another part reminded him that his desired answer was only wishful thinking – and completely insane on top of that.

“That fiery brunette lady at the bar last night seemed really interested in you. Maybe you should hook up with her if she’s there again tomorrow night?” you proposed in earnest.

Wide-eyed, Beau blinked at you in incredulity – like you had lost your goddamn mind. “I’m sorry, what?! Hook up? Who are you right now? Are you tryin’ to set me up?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged simply, not seeing what the big problem was. “Don’t look at me like I’m trying to convince you to get a tramp stamp above your ass with a dirty needle. I’m just trying to be a good wingman… woman. Randy would’ve tried to set you up, right?”

Beau sighed frustratedly. “Yeah, he would’ve,” he admitted in a grumble and then barked, slightly more furious, “But you ain’t him. And I don’t want you to be, so stop it, alright?”

“Geez, I’m sorry. I was just trying to help,” you mumbled defensively and raised your hands in surrender, unsuccessfully hiding your upset over his reaction. He felt guilty when he saw the small pout on your face.

Beau rubbed his forehead before dragging his palm over the rest of his face. “I know. I’m sorry, too,” he said and let out a deep breath through his nose. “I just-… I guess I’m just waiting, okay?”

“Waiting for what?”

Beau squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. For you to be ready, he wanted to say. But he couldn’t very well do that now, could he?

“For Christ’s sake, Y/N…” he breathed exhaustively. That was all he managed to say. With his palm on his mouth, he rested his elbow against the car door, gazing out the window.

“Why are you so upset?” you asked, your brow woven with confusion.

“Switch subjects,” he requested.

It was a phrase the two of you used whenever you didn’t want to talk about something anymore. When someone pushed too much, or the topic got too emotional and you needed a break. The only rule was to always respect the request, so you had no choice but to let it go after that.

“The Texans game sucked last night, huh?”

That elicited a snort from him, and he looked at you with a warm smile. “Yeah, goddamn awful.”

“How many times are you gonna watch those?”

Beau’s question broke your concentration. Your gaze snapped from your laptop screen to his concerned face. You’d been rewatching the victims’ videos for four days straight now, trying to find more clues. Maybe even something that directly led to Diane.

“I keep thinking maybe I’ve missed something,” you mumbled and stared back into the computer, your teeth gnawing on the pen between your lips. “It’s 48 hours each. We have twenty-four victims. I keep watching them sped-up to get through them all, but maybe I should slow ‘em down. I mean, I’ve watched them full-length, normal speed a couple of times before, but maybe I should watch ‘em even slower and really focus, you know? There’s gotta be something there…”

Bobbing his head worriedly, Beau pursed his lips and took a scan of your desk. He counted eight empty cups of coffee and five cans of energy drinks. There were bags under your red eyes and your hands were jittering. He knew you hadn’t slept a lot. He tried to hold you in his arms, but as soon as he dozed off, you snuck out and went back to work.

Beau shut the laptop. “You’re cut off.”

“Hey!”

“Y/N, you need to sleep. Just look at you, darlin’. This obsession isn’t healthy. I’m taking you home,” he declared sternly, ignoring your protests. You were pretty sure he had used his dad voice, too.

“Y/N, you need to sleep. Just look at you, darlin’. This obsession isn’t healthy. I’m taking you home,” he declared sternly, ignoring your protests. You were pretty sure he had used his dad voice, too.

“I need that woman in prison, Beau.”

“You startin’ to sound like Jenny…” Beau quipped under his breath.

“We’re running out of time. There’s only one day left before the next victim drops,” you stated and tried your best to keep your voice steady as it broke off towards the end.

“I know.” Beau clasped your shoulder and squeezed gently. “And we’ll get her. I promise you. But you’re no good to any of us if you’re exhausted and losing it right now.” You nodded and rose from your chair. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you flush against him, kissing the top of your head affectionately. “How about some dinner, huh?”

You grinned warmly. “What, like a second date?”

“Exactly like a second date,” Beau said and mirrored your grin. He was making up for lost time as best as he could, even if it meant taking you out every night for the rest of your life.

Your phone buzzed on the table, your brow quirking at the number. Eagerly, you picked up and wound yourself out of Beau’s embrace. “Special Agent Y/L/N… Uh-huh… Great, thank you.”

Beau pursed his lips. “We’re not going out, are we?”

“‘fraid not, Sheriff.” You shook your head and chuckled at his groan. “That was IT. They’re finally done and sending over the IP addresses.”

“Alright, guess I’m gettin’ take out,” Beau announced with a small sigh, knowing the two of you were in for a long night – and not the one he had planned.

You smiled and pecked his lips. “Thank you.”

August 2020

Beau’s heart thudded frantically in his chest as his knuckles tapped your front door in the early evening. The sky was a color spectacle full of azures, indigos, and apricots as the summer sun slowly set. His boots only stood on that same spot not even twenty-four hours ago. It still felt like a surreal nightmare he couldn’t escape, his hope to wake up soon a ceaseless prayer.

He’d stayed with you all night, held you as you cried yourself to sleep. Beau awoke on your couch with your head resting on his thigh and a strange feeling in his gut. He couldn’t help but think you were beautiful, even in a state of utter turmoil, shoving said thought swiftly down into the depths of his darkening soul.

But he’d spent all day thinking of you, plagued by guilt and torn by misplaced feelings. He’d sat through hours of interviews, going over and over the events of last night till his mind spun like a hamster wheel. He was forced to fill out forms, sign documents, and recount each unforgettable step. He’d listened to lectures, sermons, and admonitions. His captain gave him a tongue-lashing that sounded like mere white noise before he was sent home with a suspension – investigation pending.

Only he didn’t go home; he came here.

At home, his wife and daughter were waiting – for a husband, a father, an explanation. None of which he could provide. Beau wanted to wallow in his grief, his guilt, his loss in peace. He lacked the strength to be strong, play pretend, and act above it all. He wanted to be punished, sent to perdition, and held accountable for his lapse of judgment. A suspension wasn’t good enough. It barely patched the abysmal gaps in his heart.

The only suitable punishment was you. Witnessing your suffering was his personally crafted hell. You were the broken remnants of his destruction, the shattered pieces of his idiocy, the explosive fallout of his arrogance.

And you hadn’t answered a single call or text of his. His torturous worry was part of his penalty.

Consecutive rings of the doorbell and incessant knocks remained unanswered. For a moment, Beau rested his forehead on the door. He felt helpless and clueless all the same. You had friends and family to take care of you, probably better suited and closer to you than him, but somehow he felt burdened with the responsibility.

He took the spare key out of the left-side planter and barged inside. The ground floor was deserted. Last night’s uneaten dinner still sat untouched on the table. It felt like a whiplash against his bare back.

Bolting upstairs, he found the door to the main bedroom ajar. He pried it open slowly, the sight of you delivering his second lashing. This time, he felt the sting burning through to his heart.

He found you curled up in bed, on your husband’s side, in your husband’s t-shirt, with your wedding photo album clutched tightly in your arms. His breath halted for a moment; his heart did, too.

Did he do this? Was this all his fault?

“Y/N?” His deep voice was quiet and careful as he spoke. Slowly, he walked over to your side and knelt down in front of you. “Darlin’, hey… You need to get up. Eat somethin’.”

Beau was sure you hadn’t moved all day. He didn’t ask you if you were alright or how you were doing. The question seemed insulting. The answer was obvious. Your phone was lighting up on the nightstand with a million unanswered calls and messages, his own among them. Your beautiful eyes were vacant, red, and empty. You didn’t cry, however, not anymore. You were dehydrated and all out of tears at this point. You never looked at him, not even a glance.

“I want him back,” you whispered, your voice coarse from screaming, crying, cursing.

Beau nodded, licking his lips. Caringly, he caressed your head, brushing a few strands of messy hair out of your face. “I know. I hope you know I’d trade places with him in a heartbeat if I could.”

For the first time your eyes found his. Your gaze was scathing and piercing. “Tell me what happened.”

Beau let out a harrowing sigh. He had rehashed the story all day long. He wasn’t sure if he could do it again, but maybe this version was the most important one. Who deserved the truth more than you?

“Y/N, I don’t think this is such a good idea, darlin’,” Beau tried to reason, mostly for himself. He wanted to hold on a little longer, the idea of you hating him tearing him apart. He wanted to spare himself the additional guilt, the anger, the hurt.

“Tell me or leave.”

Beau closed his eyes and nodded hesitantly. “Okay, alright.” He took a deep breath and settled down on the floor, leaning his back against the wooden bedside table. “We were closing in on that biker gang. Few murders, arms trafficking, drug deals… You know the drill. I’m sure Ra-… he filled you in.”

Not that long ago, Randy had asked you for advise on the case. You gave him your contacts in the DEA and a number to a CI.

“Your DEA guy warned us. Said the gang was working closely with the cartel down in Juárez. But I had my own intel that only a few members were meeting at the Hatcher warehouse in MacGregor. It was supposed to be a small deal. But I figured it could lead to bigger things if we shook ‘em down, you know? But fuckin’ Harper told us no like usual. Refused to give us back-up. Said to pass the case on to the DEA. But Randy and I worked our asses off the last few months to get even this far. We were so close. I didn’t wanna let go… So, I suggested we go in anyways. It was supposed to be only three guys from the gang. I knew if we were smart about it, we could easily take ‘em down, you know?”

You rolled onto your back and propped yourself up on the bed. Shaking your head, you chuckled humorlessly and grabbed the half-empty whiskey bottle from the nightstand. “‘Course you did. It’s not the first time you broke a rule or shit on authority.”

“Yeah, and I was right every single time,” Beau bit. His anger wasn’t geared at you but at himself. He knew he was in the wrong. He flew too close to the sun and got burned. But he still felt the need to defend himself, even if it was unjustified.

His gaze drifted to the dresser and the patch of wall above it, decorated with photographic evidence of yours and his partner’s life together. The wedding, dates, vacations, holidays – it was all there. Beau had watched it all, start to finish. He wished he could rewind the tape and cut off the ending, all so you could have the love of your life back. He didn’t know yet your cassette had a B-side. One that featured him.

“You got fucking lucky, is all,” you scoffed.

“Randy backed me up on it!”

“Of course he did! You’re his fucking partner! He would’ve followed you anywhere if you asked him to,” you snapped, shaking your head. You gulped down some whiskey then and locked your jaw before you met his eyes again with a glare. “And? What happened then, Beau? Was it only three guys?”

“No.” The word was almost inaudible. He shook his head with a harsh swallow. “They were meetin’ with a few cartel members there. My intel never said anything about that. When we were inside and saw what was really going on, it was already too late to get out. They made us, bullets started flyin’… They got a hold of Randy and… shot him.” A tear escaped down his cheek, his throat closing as he tried to choke out the last bit of the story. “I had to leave him there. I barely got out myself. I’m sorry, Y/N. I know this is on me.”

Your lips twitched with a bitter smile. You didn’t look at him, just rubbed your tired eyes. “Damn right it is. Get out.”

“Y/N, please–”

The storm in your eyes made him stop as you met his gaze, his useless apologies becoming stuck in his throat. “I said, get out. I ain’t asking a third time. You’re the reason my husband is dead. You’re the reason I don’t even have a body to bury. So, get the fuck out.” Like a snakebite, your words were targeted, sharp, and venomous.

You finally got out of bed and prodded towards the en-suite bathroom. The truth had been what you needed to switch the fighter inside of you back on. You knew what you wanted to do then and were determined to get it.

“Y/N–”

“Do you know what cartels do to bodies, Beau? To rivals? To law enforcement? ‘Cause I just came back from a job where we found forty-eight decapitated bodies, left to rot inside the walls of a house. Still haven’t found the heads yet. Probably never will,” you told him and stared him dead into his dark green eyes. “Ever seen that before, desperado?”

Beau bit his lips, averting his gaze. “No.”

“Yeah, didn’t think so.” You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “Now, leave. Please. Get the fuck outta my house. I don’t wanna see you anymore,” you spat and slammed the bathroom door shut behind you.

Beau then grabbed the whiskey bottle you’d left and walked out of your home. It was the first of many nights he started to drink himself to sleep, but at least it kept the nightmares temporarily at bay.

“Theodore.” Beau forced a bright smile onto his freckle-dusted face, although the stiff features could barely fool anyone. At least, they wouldn’t have fooled you.

“Beau, good to see you again.” Ted smiled and did a more convincing job of it as he waltzed into Lewis and Clark County’s Sheriff’s Department. It almost seemed like he meant it. “I was surprised when Y/N told me you got a gig as a sheriff here.”

Translation: I was surprised because you were such a fuck-up back in Texas.

Beau feigned a chuckle. “Yeah, I bet you were.”

“Hopefully, you’re givin’ the DAs here less headaches,” Ted jabbed under the disguise of friendly banter. He then turned to Jenny with that same shit-eating grin. “Your sheriff is a little troublemaker.”

Sweet Lord, Beau wanted to whack the bastard.

The blonde deputy coolly brushed the accusation off. She shrugged and playfully nudged Beau’s arm, sending the Texan attorney a smile. “I prefer him that way.”

“Hey, there she is!” Beau smiled with frazzled relief when you finally hurried into the station. A little while longer, and he definitely would’ve thrown a punch.

“Hey, Ted. Thanks for coming. How was your flight?” You greeted him with a warm smile and a quick hug.

“Good, good. Never been to Montana before,” Ted said and then let his eyes wander up and down your body. “Look at you. You look great!”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” You subtly cleared your throat. You could physically feel Beau stiffen next to you. In your periphery, you could spy a tightly clenched jaw and a few strained muscles in his neck.

“Mind if Y/N and I borrow your office, Sheriff Arlen?” Ted asked and emphasized his title. “Considering the nature of this case, I’d like to keep it as private as possible. Don’t want anything to reach Ms. Newton’s ears.”

Your hunch had been right. Several IP addresses pointed to Diane, some to public Wi-Fi’s. You and the team still needed to connect her to the other states and find out where she’d been staying there, but you could definitely trace some posts in recent weeks to her home in Montana. It was enough for an arrest warrant, but you still needed more evidence.

Additionally, it had all come together a little too easily. It seemed like a giant trap you were walking into. Diane wanted to be caught. But why?

“Why don’t I just join you? I’m sure Y/N here doesn’t mind,” Beau suggested with a tight smile and then snaked his arm around your middle, pulling you closer. “Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

Internally, you sighed a little at his obvious territorial pissing, but you were willing to throw him a bone. You stretched up and claimed his plump lips in a fervent kiss that Beau only all too happily reciprocated.

“Not at all, Sheriff. You know I always appreciate your input,” you replied with a dirty smirk at the double entendre.

As Beau looked down at you, he mouthed ‘God, I love you.’ You grinned in response.

“Happy to give it to you,” he said with another sweet peck of your lips. A triumphant and slightly cocky grin graced his lips as he looked back at Ted.

“Oh, so you two are back together?” Ted realized, his brow rising to his hairline. He’d never seen you two together but certainly had heard the whispers down in Mexico from your old task force. He’d been the DA for those cases as well. You’d never explicitly told him about you and Beau, though, even when he had tried to pry a little on those dates you went on.

“Well, I’m a hard one to quit,” Beau quipped almost proudly, like a peacock showing off his fan of feathers.

“As are cigarettes and many other vices,” Ted shot back with the same stupidly proud grin.

Translation: You’re an ass. And a failure. She deserves so much better. I’m ‘better.’ But maybe that didn't need a translation.

Beau should’ve known it was hard to out-argue a lawyer and ground his jaw. After all, he’d been married to one for many years.

You, on the other hand, shared a wide-eyed and baffled look with Jenny that bordered on amusement. You had almost gasped in shock. You hadn’t expected such a fiery reply, sure the men would stick to their Southern manners. But, oh well, everyone’s packing in fucking Texas…

“Why don’t you two go ahead? I’ll join you in a minute,” you ordered more than you earnestly proposed and shooed the two men down the hallway towards Beau’s office.

“Sure it’s such a good idea to lock those two in a room alone?” Jenny teased, her eyes lingering a little too long on Ted’s perfectly formed ass as he sauntered down the hall.

You couldn’t blame her. You had checked out Beau’s in the same breath.

“It’s only for a short time. They’re not gonna kill each other,” you laughed it off. Jenny arched a doubtful eyebrow at you. “That quickly,” you added a correction. “So, what did I miss here?” you asked and nodded towards the two men, closing the door to Beau’s office behind them. All you heard last was them talking about the recent Texans game.

Ugh, of course, they’d end up by football…

“Dick measuring contest,” Jenny supplied wryly.

“Ah, figured…”

“Well, better them than to lock Agent Y/L/N and the sheriff into the same room,” Poppernak joked with a soft chuckle as he appeared next to you and Jenny, chiming into the conversation.

You gaped at him in mock-shock. “Mo! I can’t believe you just said that,” you chided playfully.

His cheeks turned crimson red. “I’m sorry, Special Agent Y/L/N,” he apologized in a fluster.

“Mo, I told you to call me by my first name,” you reminded him with a smile. “Or I’m gonna have to start giving you silly names like Beau does.”

“Oh, I love Sheriff Arlen’s nicknames,” he quickly defended with a nervous laugh.

“Do you?” Jenny tilted her head with a questioning eyebrow.

He shrugged. “They’re clever.”

August 2020

“Old Fashioned,” you ordered with a look at the bartender, feeling Beau’s confused eyes and crinkled brow wander up to you. “Couldn’t have picked a nicer bar, huh? This place is a dump. You know that, right?”

Beau clicked his tongue and took a sip from his Ranch Water. “What are you doing here? Thought you never wanted to see me again.”

You let out a small sigh but didn’t meet his gaze. “Carla called me. Your family is worried about you.”

“I didn’t tell her where I was. How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t. Carla said you haven’t been home in three days. Figured you’d gone on a bender. This is the fifth cop bar I checked out. Finally got lucky,” you said and thanked the bartender as he placed his drink in front of you. You settled down on a barstool next to Beau.

“Quite the effort. Sure I’m worth it?”

Your tongue swept over your lips. “Beau, look at me.” His forest-green eyes found yours upon your soft plea. “I’m sorry I put all that shit on you. It wasn’t fair. It’s not your fault, okay? His death isn’t on you. I know you loved him like a brother.”

“I did.” Beau took another sip of his drink. “But it is my fault. I was reckless and arrogant. We both know it.”

“It was a set-up, alright? I talked to my DEA contact. Cody said your intel was wrong. They knew you and Randy were closing in on them. They wanted to get rid of you,” you explained.

Beau smacked his lips. “I still shoulda known better. I should’ve seen it was a trap.”

“Maybe,” you admitted. You couldn’t say you would’ve done the same thing, but you knew Beau would’ve never purposely put Randy in danger if he had even the faintest idea. “But it could’ve happened to anybody. This was bigger than you knew.”

“It wouldn’t have happened to you,” he stated quietly. You couldn’t argue with that. You were more by-the-book than he was. You would’ve never gone against a superior’s order. You would’ve respected it.

“Look, just go home. Talk to your wife. Get some help,” you said. “You missed your suspension hearing, but I spoke on your behalf. Told them it wasn’t your fault. The DEA backed me. Harper’s gonna reinstate you. Just come back as soon as you’re ready.”

Beau nodded slowly. Even if he didn’t say it, you could tell he was thankful for your efforts. “I can’t go home.”

Your brow furrowed. “Why? I’m sure Carla will understand. You need to talk to someone about this. Go to therapy – and not the alcoholic kind. Losing a partner is not something you get over quickly. You need people in your corner, including your wife.”

“You mean the wife that lets criminals out on the street?” Beau’s gaze was focused on the glass in his hands. The wrinkles on your brow deepened. “The guy that shot him… Carla’s his defense attorney. Was, at least. He was supposed to do time, but two months ago, she got him paroled.” With a dark chuckle, he emptied his glass.

“Beau…” You knew he had always struggled with Carla’s job, making you sometimes wonder about their dinner conversations at home. “It ain’t her fault more than it is yours. She’s just doing her job. You know that. You’ve been together for so long, you’d think you’re used to it by now.”

Beau scoffed a chuckle and gestured to the bartender for a refill. “I was a young cop back then. Wasn’t on the job as long. I didn’t know it would bother me so much. Still lived in that hopeful bubble, I guess.”

You smiled knowingly. “You mean the ‘I didn’t think I’d see as much shit and injustice as I do now’ bubble?”

He snickered softly. “Yep, that one. Just didn’t think it’d be this hard, you know?”

“I get it. I mean, me and Carla butt heads all the time over this stuff. But we do it in a competitive fun way and then get drunk,” you said with a light chuckle. “Guess it’s different when you’re married, though, huh?”

“Yeah, it is…” he sighed.

“Still, go home. Talk to her,” you encouraged but could see your words of wisdom fell on deaf ears. “By the way, the funeral’s on Saturday.”

He turned his gaze away from his glass and found your eyes. “You need any help with that?”

“Maybe you can give a eulogy. You knew him best. I think he would’ve really liked that,” you said with a warm smile. No matter your own feelings, you knew deep down Randy would’ve wanted you to forgive his partner.

“Yeah, I can do that. Anything you need, okay?” Beau clasped your hand that laid on the bar counter and squeezed reassuringly before dropping it again.

You smiled appreciatively and teased, “Maybe show up sober. Or at least close-to.”

Beau chuckled a little. “I promise.”

You stood up from your seat then and put some cash for your drink on the counter. “Alright, I’m heading home. You need me to call you a cab?”

“Nah, I’m good. I’m just gonna finish this drink, then I’ll head out, too,” he said.

“You sure? Don’t make me come back here,” you threatened playfully.

Beau laughed softly. “I won’t. Thanks for everything, Y/N. I mean it.”

You sent him a smile and gave his shoulder a squeeze on your way out. “You’re welcome. Get home safe, okay?”

However, Beau couldn’t keep any of his promises. He made it home after three more drinks and woke up on the front lawn of his house. Carla wasn’t happy when she found him in the morning as she brought Emily to school. But Beau couldn’t stop. Every time he closed his eyes, the tragic events flashed before him like a horror movie, witnessing Randy’s death in a never-ending loop. He kept seeing his partner get dragged away, heard the shot over and over again like a rain of bullets without a ceasefire.

The guilt was eating him alive. The guilt of getting his partner into this mess in the first place. Of leaving him behind. Of surviving and coming out alive when he didn’t deserve to.

So, Beau kept drinking to forget, even though he knew it was a futile endeavor. The memory would never fade, but at least it was blurred.

Your heavy breaths echoed through the small trailer. His mouth moved down the column of your throat, leaving a wet path of ravenous love bites in its wake.

“Fuck, baby,” you moaned wantonly, his grip on your flesh punishing as he kept you pressed flush against him while he devoured you on the little dining table. Your ass sat on the wooden surface, your crossed ankles locked tightly behind his muscular back.

“God, you made me so happy today,” he growled against the shell of your ear, his rising length rubbing against your core through layers of denim.

“I can see that.” You giggled, your hands dangling in his hair. “There’s no need to hate him so much, you know?”

“Says you,” Beau quipped and unzipped your jeans, eagerly pulling them off you as his mouth sucked your clavicle purple and blue. “That slimy coyote always had it out for me.”

Beau removed your panties as well, tossing them behind his shoulder where they landed in the kitchen sink. “Whoops.” He grinned charmingly but was unstoppable, freeing his throbbing dick as he shoved his jeans and boxers barely over his ass. He didn’t bother to slip out of them all the way, too impatient to wait any longer to enter you.

“Still, I’m already yours. I’ve always been yours,” you said and braced yourself on his broad shoulders as one large hand on your back pulled you closer to the edge of the table. His other hand grabbed his cock, twisting his fist along the hard, long shaft a few times before he glided his cockhead through your slick folds.

“Not always.” With one harsh thrust, he pushed inside you, your tight walls fighting to make room for him and adjust to his stretch.

You gasped at the pleasurable burn that coursed through your body and ignited every sizzling nerve. He dropped his head to your shoulder, giving both of you some time to get used to each other. You could tell you were in for a wilder ride tonight. You always loved when he fucked you rough and hard. There was something raw and animalistic about the need in his hypnotizing green eyes.

Beau then claimed your lips with one fervent kiss, enough of a spark to cause a wildfire. He met your gaze, hands gingerly cupping your cheeks. “But I love that you’re mine now. And I’m sure as hell gonna make you mine tonight, darlin’.”

You crashed your lips against his, your kisses frenzied and untamed as his hips began to slam into you. His pounds into your pussy were relentless as you swallowed every inch of him. You gripped him tight, already feeling your first orgasm bloom. It accumulated like dark, violent storm clouds on the horizon, forecasting roaring thunder and heavy rainfall.

“Oh God! Fuck, baby!” You screamed as your climax tore through you like a hurricane, your cunt gushing on his cock and pulsing around him. Your nails dug into his shoulder blades and scratched down his back as you came undone.

Beau groaned into your ear, squeezing his eyes shut as he barely held on himself. But he didn’t let up and kept up his furious pace, not ready to stop yet. “Shit, keep doing that. You’re so fucking tight, Y/N,” he grunted against your skin, your sensitive flesh barely withstanding his ruthless pumps. “Want you to come again, darlin’.”

With his declaration, his hand slipped between your sweat-clad bodies. You came close to losing your mind as he thumbed furiously at your clit, the stars already starting to twinkle in front of your eyes. You could feel yourself get shoved to the edge once more, staring down the steep cliffs of white-hot ecstasy.

Your mind was consumed by need, his grip on your hips bruising as you exploded. You cried out raucously, your whole body quaking in his hold upon your eruption, the aftershocks so powerful they could cause cracks in your bones.

Beau spilled his seed deep inside of you, his body stuttering in rhythm with yours as your earthquake took him down with you. Hazy gazes met each other with lazy smiles as ragged breaths mingled.

“Fuck, that was good. I think that one might make it into our Top Ten.” Beau chuckled gravelly and placed a gentle kiss on your temple.

“Hmm, not sure. We have a few greatest hits.” You giggled and bit down on your lower lip with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. “Can I tell you something?”

Beau cupped your cheeks, thumbs caressing the heated and rosy skin as he lifted your gaze. “Anything.”

“Just between us, you’re the best lover I ever had,” you confessed with a wide grin. The corners of his mouth rose to match yours.

“Well, between us, I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. You’re it, darlin’. You know that, right? You’re the love of my life,” Beau revealed, making you smile brighter than you ever had before.

“I’m not sure about the sex, but this moment, right here, is probably gonna make it into the Top Ten,” you said softly as a few tears stung your eyes.

“Good.” Beau smiled and pecked your forehead.

The buzzing of a phone shifted your attention. You recognized it as yours, and Beau was quick to retrieve it from your jeans pocket in the pile of clothes on the floor.

“It’s Jenny,” you told him before picking up. “Hello… What?! Uh-huh, we’ll be right there.”

Beau’s brow furrowed as he watched your features flicker through an array of emotions. “Bad news?”

“Uhm, honestly, I don’t know,” you said and swallowed some of your confusion down, gathering your thoughts. “Jenny said Diane just walked into the station and gave herself up. She is ready to confess but only wants to talk to us.”

“Us? As in us two?” Beau’s eyes narrowed. You nodded. “Well, that doesn’t sound fishy at all,” he commented wryly.

“Yup, I don’t like it.”

Chapter 8: Chemical Bonds – JUNE 26

A lot of revelations and foreboding in this one... 👀 Also, I just love having Beau say the word "coyotes" for some reason 😂

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[lightlycareless]

I was thinking about your portrayal of Naoya and I was already thinking of a JJK actor au which led me to think of how actor Naoya upon hearing that Y/N was going to be in this new romance movie, I feel like he’d immediately use all his connections(Ofc he could audition but he needs to make this a sure thing plus he’s fs a Nepo Baby XD but at least he’s got the skills too) just so he can be in that movie with Y/N(Maybe the Male lead was gonna be Nanami too!). I bet they’d end up getting together by the end of filming Teehee. You don’t have to write anything if you don’t wanna but I thought you might think this au is fun too if only to just daydream about it :D

Heya anon!!

Thank you for your patience hehe. I have to say, AU’s where Y/N or Naoya are a celebrity is kind of like my guilty pleasure; I don’t really indulge much on it because I don’t have a plot line most of the time, but this was the perfect excuse to see what I can do with it :> I just hope you enjoy it!! Also, this is going to be a two-part oneshot so… yeah hehe.

Btw, thank you all for those who voted for fluff, but we know how this goes so I had to put a little bit of drama somewhere :) it’s Naoya we’re talking about.

Warnings: AU. Naoya and Y/N are actors; he’s an idiot, a nepobaby, womanizer, etc etc, but we already knew all that. What’s interesting is his so called redemption OOF.

Happy reading!

Established actor Naoya that’s quite popular amongst the audience even with the rumors of his difficult work ethic, less than desirable personality, and blatant nepotism, thanks to his good looks and deceiving charm.

Because of his status, whatever project he wants, he gets. Sure, there are some that still have the audacity to require an audition from him, but it’s just a formality that he dejectedly complies to—Naoya knows that even when doing a bad job, he’ll still get the part at the end of the day.

But that doesn’t mean Naoya goes for any kind of role; he’s quite specific about what he wants: a pretty co-star.

And the studios had a variety of reasons to allow such demands, starting from a financial benefit: with a handsome face like his to match with an equally attractive coworker, he’ll only sell-out all functions; and in turn, he’ll get his fair share of enjoyment with his fellow partner of the moment. The same ones he discards immediately after getting bored; careless if they unwittingly got feelings for him—but nonetheless a win-win situation all around.

Such a quick lifestyle has him already setting eyes on his next target, a relatively unknown rising star with a seemingly promising future whom he was immediately smitten by upon seeing her for the first time, just as the rest of the world was.

“Y/N L/N” Naoya would repeat, enjoying how the sound of your name rolled off his tongue—fitting for someone of your beauty: vibrant eyes, rosy cheeks, shiny hair… and to top it all off, a humble yet shy demeanor that just made his obsession for you grow tenfold.

Wouldn't be the first time he’s grown interested in up and coming actresses, because in Naoya’s perspective, they’re much easier to impress, far more gullible to manipulate how he wants…

But it would be the first time he’s ever been so desperately obsessed to be with, for soon after he saw you, you became all he thought about. Causing him issues with his current fling (it briefly grazed the headlines, his team quickly fixed that)and some commitments he almost fumbled, keyword: almost.

Naoya couldn’t explain it; there was just something about you that attracted him, almost like you were destined to be together.

He needed you—one way or the other—and he needed you now.

Per usual, he soon demanded his manager and assistants to get a detailed list of all your upcoming projects, to see which ones he could be part of, and if neither were to his advantage, make those opportunities. Naoya was not to let you go so easily.

”A movie adaptation for some romance series that’s been in the talks for a while now.” His manager highlighted. “It’s her biggest work yet as a protagonist—in fact, development just started because of her.”

”Romance?” Naoya breathed, excited at the implications. “Do they have the male lead yet? I don’t think I need to tell you what I want, do I?”

”Oh, uh, no—you don’t, but… about that—“

”What is it?” It was always frightening to see how easily his behavior oscillated when facing his disapproval, but once already here…

“What?! What do you mean the casting’s already done?! Why wasn't I made aware of this????”

Because as obvious as his womanizing ways were, it would be physically impossible to have him assist every single call in hopes he’d settle with someone attractive enough for his standards.

Besides, this project already had their co-stars in mind way before it was even announced, the studio was just waiting for the right female lead to come along: and when that proved to be you…

Nanami was quickly brought on board, perfect for the role in all ways that mattered: from physical similarities to his character which made the fandom very, very satisfied, to work ethic; his professionalism was always beyond everyone’s expectations, no one has ever complained about him.

Kento was, hands down, a dream to work with—and considering what all of this meant, it was safe to say that Naoya was not happy about it.

”Well, get them to change actors!” He quickly demanded. “Call them and let them know I want the part, should be easy enough considering my status, no?”

”Ah, I— I guess I could but I’ve heard other people tried before and failed… so I don’t want to waste your time if you’re going to face that same result…”

The way how other��s interest in the film is implied behind his words makes Naoya’s eyes widen. Because surely no one cares about participating in that irrelevant series he’s never heard of until now, if it didn’t mean getting to work with you, that is. Everyone’s favorite girl of the moment.

His girl.

Ever the competitive one, it doesn’t take him much longer after that to call who he had to call, bribe who he had to bribe to finally, after many insistences, sign the contract that effectively labels him as your co-star.

Careless if his decision would prove detrimental to the project in the long run, or if it would strain relations between him and Nanami. Naoya never really minded him, outside of being bundled together with some other actors the audience generally cataloged as the most handsome in the country—if this change meant they’d never get to work together, fine! He had obtained a much better reward in return anyways.

Naoya wasn’t to allow anyone to deprive him of what was rightfully his—even if he wasn’t aware of it beforehand—and thus, when the fateful day to start working alongside you finally came along, the moment he’d see you for the first time without the interference of a screen, or through a picture—

His breath ran short. Heart skipping a beat when his eyes fell on your figure: truly, the cameras did you no justice.

You were far more breathtakingly beautiful in person.

So much was his shock, that the smooth introduction he had planned for the moment was limited to a stuttering mess, a shame to someone as charismatic as him.

”You’re—you’re Zen’in—No, I mean, I’m—“ Naoya says, a stranger to the heat forming in his cheeks, inwardly demeaning the weak presentation he must’ve given you now.

But if he wasn't already fixated enough on you, the way you appeared to be indifferent to his nerves completely captivated him. A wide smile on your lips as you greeted him with that same enthusiasm that made the whole world fall to your feet.

”Nice to meet you, Naoya!” You chirp. “I can’t believe we’re working together… I mean, so early in my career! Thank you so much for this opportunity, I promise I won’t disappoint!”

”The pleasure’s all mine.” And so is the curse you’ve seem to have unwittingly placed upon him after sweetly declaring you’d be under his care.

He’s made up his mind, Naoya will make you fall in love with him in less of what it takes to wrap up this movie. He’ll make you his, and will go to any length to ensure so.

Even if it meant ignoring your father’s (your manager, a veteran actor of days past) clear warnings.

”Don’t think I don’t know how your kind works.” Eiichi, your father, threatens Naoya during a short moment of privacy. “And I’m well aware of the rumors that surround you, even if you have your team quiet them. I should’ve known you were up to something the moment you insisted on Nanami’s removal—but I’ll let you know that whatever it is that you have in mind, I won’t allow it.”

”I assure you, Eiichi-san, I have no other intentions with your daughter outside of making our best efforts to have this picture timely done.” Naoya cynically responded, which just made your dad even angrier. Your co-star thinks your manager is an all bark, no bite type of dog. An old dog too, and treats him like such.

“Then surely asking you to act appropriately for once in your life isn’t too much to demand, is it?” He frowns. “Especially for someone who’s barely starting in the genre.”

”Wait—you mean to say—“

If this is your first romance movie, does that mean…

You haven’t done your first on-camera kiss?

Or perhaps even better—you haven’t kissed anyone at all?

Not quite, nor were you ever going to disclose personal matters that truly only belonged to you.

But if your father intended to protect you, he really, really shouldn’t have said that. Eiichi shouldn’t have gone ahead and essentially pushed you further into Naoya’s claws, his words being the last piece of motivation to become completely unhinged and make your time with him… tense, to say the least.

Oh, but how could he not? You were simply too adorable when trying to do your best to fulfill everyone’s expectations: barely putting up a fuss when Naoya got a bit too dramatic to what the script demanded, far more handsy, even when not recording: all for the sake of staying in character, he’d claim.

And when he dejectedly worked on those scenes where nothing of his interest was happening, you didn’t even complain. You kept quiet, submissive, taking the situation as best as you could and kept on working—because that’s what professional actresses do, isn’t it? And you’re nothing but the best.

But things didn’t really escalate until it was time to record that long-awaited kiss; what the script demanded to be the first kiss between their characters, in other words, something sweet, overall a touching scene.

However, Naoya naturally had to blur the line between his work and personal life—and instead of taking this moment as what it was, just two people trying to get the job done, he decided to… mark it as some declaration of feelings.

Confirmation that the time the two had spent together, a few weeks now, had actually amounted to something; aside from figuring out what your soft lips tasted like.

Because to Naoya, those interactions in between breaks, outside of the set, and even during filming, had been quite meaningful to him. To you too, he suspects.

Your shy nature just didn’t allow you to openly affirm it, a little push was all you needed to do so.

”Don’t be nervous, dumpling.” Is the nickname he’d given you upon seeing your excitement for last week's catering. You’ve politely told him it wasn’t necessary to call you that, but he insisted otherwise, calling it their very first inside joke. What everyone does to get along better. “Just follow my lead and I’ll worry about everything else, ok?”

Not exactly the reassuring words you were searching for, but for someone of Naoya’s expertise, alongside the physical hold he had over you at this point, hands over your arms, keeping you close to his chest… it’s not like you could demand otherwise.

And so, after everyone was in position, the director finally signals the scene to begin: Naoya delivers the script with an uncharacteristic perfection, outside of that slight rush behind his words, eager to get to that one particular moment, it’s obvious he’s been looking forward to recording this.

To kiss you, which he abruptly does by suddenly moving his face towards yours and then, captivating your lips onto his—giving more than his interpretation of the character’s desire: it was him wanting to take in your scent, warmth, touch, everything, and bask in it.

Claim it as his own, for those in the room, and the world in due time, to see.

One might’ve even assumed you were fine with his intentions too, given how you didn’t complain nor fight back against his desperate gesture, struggling to follow his lead in a way that appeared he was trying to eat you alive.

Which thankfully didn’t happen once the director cut the scene, and just before you ran out of breath.

”Naoya, while I appreciate the enthusiasm, that was—a bit too much.” The director said; if he was aware of your and Naoya’s fluster, he didn’t comment. “Let’s do it again, from the top.”

Normally, Naoya would’ve retorted at what he considered unnecessary reshooting, apparently his time was far more valuable than the rest even when he was being paid millions to be there… but this time around, he was nothing but obliging, in fact, Naoya even suggested that they’d go at it once more just to be sure they captured the right sentiment. Fulfill his desire.

With each time becoming more and more desperate than the other.

Naoya frequently claimed himself to be immune to any kind of addiction, thought of it as weak for the character, above such “petty” faults—But when it came to you… he just proved to be as human as the rest.

He physically needed to have all of you; they’d have to forcibly pry him away to stop—

Or for you to do so, swiftly placing your hands over his chest and pushing him away when it became too much, putting an end to the scene before the director could and subsequently raising many eyebrows around you.

”What’s wrong, Y/N?” The director asks upon seeing your distraught face—exhausted from the many reshoots, and of course, Naoya’s overbearing ways. “Is everything alright?”

”Ye-yeah, I just… I’m sorry, I think I need a break.” You silently plead, looking over to your manager who was more than ready to step in if your request was dismissed; which thankfully, wasn’t. The director sighing before turning around and stating:

”Alright everyone, take 5.”

The perfect opportunity for Naoya to follow through with his so-called affirmation of feelings, trailing behind you soon after.

“Hey, dumpling, wait up! There’s something I need to—“

”Not right now, Naoya.” You respond, your pace unwavering. You didn’t even turn to face him. “I have to—be alone for a moment.”

”Y/N—“

Your father and sister, manager and assistant respectively, close in on you and break eye contact between the two, allowing you retreat into what he assumed your dressing room—

And leaving him behind to deal with his anger, which he immediately takes out on the director, stomping his way to him and giving him a piece of his mind.

“So you’re just going to let her go?” Naoya hisses, the man, having worked with him on previous occasions, simply sighs.

”What do you want me to do, Naoya? You saw how she ran away.” He responds. “Besides, we’ve been at it all day, I’m tired too.”

”This is just going to ruin the pace of the film, you know that, right? You should, considering your… experience.”

”Look, Naoya— it’s quite obvious what you were trying to do back there, I’ve seen it before; but we’re not going to discuss that.” He adds. “The girl is new in the game, naive, and overprotected. Did you know that her management sent us a long list of requisites after the studio offered her a contract? If it weren’t for her family, she would’ve been immediately dismissed.”

”Requisites? What kind of requisites?”

“None that I can discuss with you, but I guess I could tell you the obvious: you were not part of them. There’s a reason why Nanami was firmly set for your role, but guess that doesn’t matter since you know your way around these things…”

”Is there something else you’re hiding from me? Why bring it up if you’re not going to tell me anyways!” Naoya growls. Why was Nanami brought up again, out of nowhere??

”Just take 5 minutes, Naoya. Clear up your head, we still have a long day ahead.” The director insists. “And if it’s worth anything, Y/N will be back, she’s very dedicated to her work, I’ll give her that. Even with your weird… plays, I’m sure.”

But that wasn’t enough to calm Naoya—not with the way you essentially fled from him.

Your behavior led a part of him to feel… inadequate. Underperforming—stupid.

Rejected.

And he’s never been rejected before.

A dangerous observation to make considering his easily ignited attitude.

The moment you were back, he’d demand an answer. Hear, directly from you, why you’d cruelly dismiss his advances when he had been nothing but nice to you.

… but that moment wouldn’t come today.

In fact, not even in the subsequent ones, for after everyone was abruptly requested to go home, the studio announced that filming would go on a brief hiatus to sort out some… unexpected issues—which Naoya immediately connected to you given your radio silence.

Forcing him to directly reach out to you… but you’d never answer. In fact, all of his attempts were swiftly ignored; your team didn’t even acknowledge them! As if dealing with junk mail.

Naoya’s desperation naturally spiked after that, frantically searching for an answer—

Which he’d get soon enough, but only through a tabloid which probably described the worst case scenario he could’ve imagined unfolding for this situation:

“Y/N to abandon latest project—close sources blame differences between protagonists.”

Naoya’s heart sinks.

Also, I wish to apologize if these little comma things “ appear weird? Like not the right ones at the beginning? I’m currently out of my home so all of my writing is being done through a tablet lol I’ll come back later to fix them :> I hope it didn’t ruin your reading experience :’v

And I might as well comment I didn’t feel like ending part one with just the headline, but at the same time the whole naoya’s heart skins doesn’t completely convince me…. But I don’t know, might be my impostor’s syndrome or something who knows!!!! All that I know is I have to make Naoya pathetic on the second part, so if anyone has any ideas of what you’d like to see send them in hehe I want to make him suffer :) or at least guilty, damn…

Anyways, I hope it was to your liking!! I shall proceed with the following part after I write down a little smut hehe. Thank you so much for sending in this ask, take care and hope to see you soon!!!

[unremarkablehouse]

Scully’s Hot Date Ch 2

MA | S6 | WC 2,720 | AO3 | ch 1

Summary: Mulder and Scully go on her blind date- with Derek.

Tagging: @today-in-fic

Scully walked out of the restroom of the Hoover lobby looking perfectly put together; not a hair out of place. Mulder waited for her casually by the restroom door, leaning on the wall still looking disheveled. While his hair was no longer sticking up every which way and he’d rolled his shirt sleeves up; he had failed to wipe all the lipstick marks off his neck and face. Scully chuckled as she took in his love drunk expression and got a tissue from her purse to clean him up.

“Mulder, did you even try to remove the lipstick marks?”

“Why would I want to remove them,” he asked as he moved his head down so Scully could reach him easier. 

As she cleaned by his neck he whispered to her, “I see these marks as a badge of honor. Do you know how many times I’ve stared at those lips and wanted to kiss them?” 

The tension between them grew and Mulder moved to kiss Scully, only to be stopped by her hand. 

“Cameras,” she whispered, and Mulder gave a nod and kissed her on the forehead instead. 

As they made their way out of the building they both looked around for Scully’s blind date. 

“So how are we meant to recognize this guy? Is he going to be carrying a single rose or something?”

Before Scully could answer him, a male voice spoke out from behind them. 

“Excuse me, Dana?” 

Scully turned around and was greeted by a warm smile from a handsome stranger. Roughly the same height as Mulder, with a fair complexion and sandy blonde hair. Derek’s eyes wandered from Scully over to Mulder, who was standing close to her with his hand on her lower back. With a smile, Mulder extended his hand and introduced himself to the confused man. “Hi, I’m Fox Mulder, Scully’s Partner.”

Scully gave a polite smile as she took Derek’s hand next and gave it a shake, “Dana Scully.” 

“And I’m Derek, nice to meet you, both of you.”

Derek gave a little laugh, and looked confused as he glanced between the pair. This was not the night he signed up for, but perhaps Dana had wanted a friend to be there when she met up with him. It seemed like a reasonable assumption seeing as it was a blind date, but there was something in the way the two stood united that made Derek wonder if anyone would have a chance to get between them. 

Scully gave a nervous laugh, moving over to talk to Derek and apologized by way of explanation. “I know this isn’t what you were probably expecting-“

“But let’s go grab a drink!” Mulder said enthusiastically slapping Derek on the back and inserting himself between Derek and Scully. Before they had even walked a block Mulder had already ascertained all of Derek’s favorite sports teams and had made fast friends with him. 

Scully half listened as the men excitedly chatted on about the Playoffs, amused at just how many times over the years Mulder had chased off any man (and some women) who’d shown the slightest bit of interest in her. Mulder was truly gifted at it, he could cockblock with the best of them. Well, at least this time she’d make sure Mulder put out after chasing her date away.

As they walked into the bar and grabbed a booth Scully found herself checking her watch. It was 8pm, by her calculations she could be back in her apartment by 9:15 and could have Mulder naked by 9:30 if they stuck to one drink and small talk. As Mulder nudged Derek aside to take the seat next to Scully, he casually rested his arm behind Scully’s on their booth seat and continued the conversation. Mulder’s arm behind her was a gesture he’d done a million times before tonight, but now Scully began to realize that it was not the most plutonic body language- and she loved it.

Derek’s eyes darted from Mulder’s arm to Scully and she subtly nodded in confirmation, a chance with her was not on the agenda for him or anyone else.

They had been seated for only a few minutes when Mulder abruptly stood up, declaring he’d buy the first round of drinks. It was the little crease between Scully’s furrowed eyebrows that stopped him from leaving the table. 

“What’s up Scully? You don’t want a drink?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just, Mulder you didn’t really have lunch today. Maybe we should get some food?” 

“I could go for some mozzarella sticks,” Derek chimed in. 

“Good call Doc, I’ll be back in a minute,” Mulder agreed as he moved towards the bar with new purpose. 

Scully and Derek sat silently in the booth for a few moments, an awkwardness growing as neither of them knew quite what to say. 

“So Derek, what line of work are you in?”

“I’m an Actuarial Analyst for the government now, I do a lot of work evaluating the risks and costs of crime. I was surprised that Mulder seemed to have quite a solid grasp on the area, was he in stats major before the FBI?” 

With a laugh Scully explained that Mulder just had a knack for picking things up quickly, a little surprised at how much the two had discussed while her mind had been elsewhere. Again, the two went back to an uncomfortable silence and Scully was even more grateful that Mulder had hijacked her night, having forgotten just how much she hated blind dates. A new topic of conversation would not come to her head to discuss with this stranger, so she looked around the bar trying to spot Mulder and will him to return to the table.

The sound of Derek’s voice jolted her back to reality as he tried to make small talk again.

“Mulder mentioned you’re a Bulls fan, Dana?”

“Not really.”

Derek looked disappointed that his conversation starter was a dud, so Scully clarified.

“It’s just that Mulder loves the Knicks, we watch their games together whenever we’re on the road. I really only cheer for the Bulls when they’re up against the Knicks to give him a hard time, but don’t tell him.”

Derek laughed at Scully’s admission, she was definitely a spitfire.

“As a huge Bulls fan myself, you picked a great team to support out of spite. How could you not love Jordan?”

”True,” Scully agreed with a laugh. Before they could continue she felt Mulder approach the table perilously carrying a pitcher of beer, two beer glasses stacked together, a glass of red wine and a metallic table number stuck under his arm. Deftly, Scully intercepted him and was able to distribute the glasses and beer to the table efficiently and without spilling a drop. 

“You two should take that act on the road,” Derek clapped, impressed by their coordination.

“Years of practice,” Mulder said while filling up Derek’s glass with beer.

Mulder placed a hand on Scully’s thigh as he nervously talked to her, perhaps still a tad insecure about Derek’s presence.

“Tonight is Five Dollar pitcher night for Feddies, I just had to show my badge at the bar. Scully did you want some beer?”

Scully smiled at his enthusiastic energy and rested her hand on top of his.

“Nope, wine was the perfect choice Mulder.”

Derek raised his glass and made the motion for the others to toast, “to new friends.” 

“To new friends,” they all repeated as clinked glasses. 

From there the conversation flowed much smoother, Mulder amusing them both with funny anecdotes of past cases and eliciting some decent stories from Derek in return. Scully was having a good time and was enjoying herself on this bizarre date. Mulder’s casual touches she’d taken for granted all these years now took on a charged meaning as Scully noticed how he always seemed to find an excuse to be in her personal space. His smell was intoxicating and she wonder if it would be weird for her to bury her nose in his armpit at the table. Giving an exaggerated yawn, she hoped Mulder would pick up on her sign that it was time to go home and finish what they’d started in the stairwell.  As Derek started talking about some trip to Martha’s Vineyard he’d made a few years back, Scully’s mind wandered to the state of her apartment. Her bedroom had clothes all over the bed because she couldn’t work out what to wear and she’d left her make up all over the bathroom sink. She hadn’t bothered shaving her legs or cleaning up her place tonight as she had no intention of bringing anyone back with her. Her underwear was on the plain side too, not the nice lingerie she’d pictured wearing for her first time with Mulder. The conditions were not ideal for tonight but she figured so long as she was on top and they kept the lights off it would be fine. Hell, after her two glasses of wine Scully was ready to straddle Mulder in the booth if they didn’t get out of here soon. 

Suddenly Mulder stopped mid-conversation and held his hand up for the table to be quiet while he listened. Scully’s stomach dropped, she knew Mulder was up to something and experience had taught her that it would more than likely end with them in a hospital bed after fighting some super natural specter then naked in her bed. Scully braced herself for whatever he had in store and watched with confusion as Mulder started waving at a pretty blonde nearby who made her way over to their table. Before Scully could question Mulder on his behavior or ascertain whether he had discovered an X file, Mulder got up from the booth and awkwardly guided the woman in Derek’s direction.

“Shauna, this is my friend Derek,” Mulder announced while keeping his eyes fixed on Scully. Mulder held his hand out to Scully and suddenly it all clicked, Walking in Memphis was playing on the jukebox and Mulder wanted to dance. 

Mulder led Scully onto the small dance floor by the bar, holding her a little tighter than the last time they danced to this song, nodding at Derek as he danced with Shauna. Mulder felt Scully giggle against his chest and lifted her head to ask what. 

“How did you orchestrate all this?”

“I met Shauna at the jukebox and asked her to help me out so I could dance with my girl.”

“I’m your girl?”

“Always… If you want to be.”

“Always,” Scully said, lifting herself up on her toes to give Mulder a peck on the lips. 

Adding a few twists and twirls, Mulder continued to dance with Scully as each song seemed to meld into one another. It felt natural to be moving together to the music, enjoying the physical contact between them. Scully pulled Mulder closer to her and inhaled his smell as he leant his chin on her head; the perfect fit. Scully’s hands began to wander over the tops of Mulder’s ass, catching him off guard. Giving his butt a firm squeeze, Scully laughed at Mulder’s fake look of indignation.

“Whatcha doing there Miss Scully?” 

“Come on Mulder, let’s go back to my place,” Scully said, punctuating her statement with a firm slap to his butt.

“We should probably say goodbye to Derek first,” Mulder said, hoping Scully would suggest just leaving. Scully sighed, a little bemused that this was the one time Mulder chose not to wonder off without notice. 

On reaching the booth they’d been in, Mulder and Scully were surprised to see strangers now seated at it. After exchanging looks of confusion, it dawned on them that they had been dancing for a lot longer than they’d both realized. Scanning around the room Mulder spotted Derek sitting at the bar, Scully’s purse and sweater on his lap. Mulder and Scully walked up to Derek and were immediately hit by the strong smell of alcohol. 

“Sorry we left you for so long,” Mulder said, giving Derek a clap on his shoulders. 

“Thank you for minding my things,” Scully said, gingerly prying her possessions from Derek’s clumsy clutches, while Mulder motioned for the bartender and got Derek some water. 

“So what happened to you buddy,” Mulder asked after encouraging Derek to drink some water. 

“Shauna, she wanted to do shots and then we had this car bomb drink, and some more shots. She’s crazy.”

Scully gave Mulder a disapproving look, silently judging his choice of female companion for poor, slightly boring, Derek. 

“Where’s Shauna’s now?” Mulder asked, more than a little worried to hear the response.

“Oh, she had to go home and let her dogs out, but I got her number and we’re going to a concert tomorrow.”

Mulder gave an enthusiastic thumbs up, a gesture reciprocated by Derek, while Scully covered her face with her hand and wondered how she could be attracted to such a dork.

“Let’s get you home,” Mulder said Derek, as he helped him off the barstool. Derek wobbled much more than anticipated and Scully had to step in to keep him up right. 

Outside the bar, Derek seemed to be okay walking with an arm around Mulder’s broad shoulders to keep him steady. Scully was irritated, her spot was by Mulder’s side, and on the night something finally happens between them- this guy was getting in the way. It was time for Derek to leave. 

Eyeing the street for a cab, Scully asked Derek what his address was. “Alexandria” was the only comprehensible part of the his response. 

“Maybe we can check his wallet,” Scully asked pragmatically, deftly find it in Derek’s jacket pocket along with a tab of six condoms.

With her eyebrows raised to her forehead, Mulder gave a chuckle. 

“Looks like you had some big hopes for tonight buddy,” Mulder said, earning him another thumbs up from Derek.

Putting the condoms back into Derek’s pocket, Scully felt indignant. What kind of woman did he think she was- the man’s mother had set them up for chrissakes! Scully briefly thought about shooting Derek, but realized she left her gun at home and really didn’t want to deal with the paperwork. 

Recognizing Scully’s rising frustration, Mulder propped Derek up on a bus bench and took over the search for his home address. As luck would have it Derek lived a block away from Mulder.

Moving Scully away from Derek, Mulder brushed a tendril of hair behind her ear, her face lost in contemplation. 

“Why don’t we go back to my place tonight? I’ll take Derek home and make sure he gets there and then we can meet at my place?”

“For what,” Scully asked bluntly and unamused. 

“Well we could watch a movie, or have coffee-” Mulder asked trying to add a suave subtext that came off a little desperate. Scully’s body straightened and Mulder could see that whatever fluke had gone on earlier in the night, the universe was self correcting and Scully was recoiling. 

“Mulder it’s late, I think I just want to go home.” 

With an understanding nod Mulder mumbled ‘of course’, and softly kissed Scully on the side of the mouth. If only Mulder had been petulant, pissy, or even dismissive, Scully could have walked away and pretended nothing had occurred between them. However, Mulder’s sweet dejected demeanor combined with a countenance that struggled to believe he was worthy of being loved was Scully kryptonite.

Scully grabbed his hand as he turned back to Derek, Scully smiled as she watched a glimmer of hope return to his eyes. 

“How about dessert? My place, after you drive the drunk fratboy home.”

Mulder beamed and kissed Scully in excitement, a move that had previously gotten them into this mess to begin with. Pushing Mulder away before the kiss could progress in the same trajectory Scully smiled at him, without words they shared their memory of the stairwell and the sexual tension began to rise again.

“This, is to be continued,” Scully breathed in a way that made Mulder’s knees go weak and motivated him to hoist Derek with great speed to his car.

With a rushed goodbye, in the FBI parking lot Mulder promised to be back at Scully’s within the hour.