#during the afternoon instead of morning like.....i hate it here

[freesomebodybyluna]

...

[readwritealldayallnight]

“-and every year after that, we always had double chocolate chip cookies instead of regular chocolate chip. Made me stand out at the school bakes sales, too! And I would beg and beg and beg my mom to make them before any other sweets-”

“Got my stomach grumblin’ over here now, love.” Simon cuts off your rambling with a loving chuckle. The first winter’s snow began falling from the sky in London that morning, and you’d been eager to tell your lover about the traditions you’d had growing up around this time of year.

“Well imagine how I felt, Si!” You say with a giggle, patting his stomach in emphasis. “I swear, it’s become a true Pavlovian response, I see the first snowflakes and I instantly start craving those cookies again. Like when I was little…”

Simon sees the melancholic smile playing across your lips, and he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that first chance he gets, he’ll be ringing your mum to get said recipe from her.

And if you walk into your shared flat a few days later, the smell of burnt something wafting through the air, fire alarm beeping incessantly, coming upon a flustered looking 6’4” behemoth of a man swatting a flowery dish towel through the air in attempt to dissipate the smoke coming from the oven, well, the sentiment behind your lover wanting to surprise you with your favourite treat from childhood is a thousand times sweeter than the cookie itself.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Ooh, look at those ones over there!” You exclaim, tightening your grip on Simon’s arm. You’re both strolling through a local farmers market on a dreary Sunday afternoon with nothing better to do. Your free hand points towards a stall selling beautifully intricate bouquets of flowers. “They’re so pretty for this late in the season.”

Simon is glancing over at the stall, minutely nodding in agreement, before his gaze shifts back to the crowd.

“Want one?”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. Just thought they looked nice. We don’t need any.” You say, leading him past the stall, not noticing when he glances back over his shoulder to remember the name written at the top of the display.

Once back home, upon hearing your gasp of surprise followed by what he recognizes now as your excited squeal, he smirks to himself in the other room, knowing you’ve stumbled upon the bouquet he had delivered during your nap.

What you don’t know is that he’s already set it up so that you’ll be receiving a new fresh set of flowers every week now, delivered straight to your front steps.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Really wasn’t that bad this time around, promise.” You mumble into his firm chest, his muscular arms holding you there as you snuggle on the couch. He got back from a two week deployment last night, and you’re still catching him up on everything he missed. “I made a point of going outside everyday, for a change of scenery at least.”

“Tha’s good, lovie.” He whispers, running his digits through the strands of your hair, careful not to tug any time he runs into knot, instead gently trying to comb it out himself.

“Not like I was all alone, anyhow.” You say with a small giggle, biting your lip. He finds himself answering with his own lighthearted chuckle, sitting up straighter to glance at the table over your shoulder. “Gave me something to look forward to each day, feeding the lil’ guy.”

“Was hoping it’d be a nice surprise for ya. Not another chore…”

“Oh, Goldie’s not a chore.” You laugh, swatting at Simon’s chest. You also take the time to glance over at the goldfish in question, swimming in the small circular fish bowl that Simon had somehow snuck into the flat the day before he left. He hated the idea of leaving you alone all the time, never knowing when he’d have a chance to speak on the phone, and he didn’t want to burden you with a larger, more high maintenance animal like a dog or cat. And so, Goldie was brought home.

“Although, I’m worried maybe he’s getting lonely when I’m out of the house. Might have to get him a friend.”

Simon doesn’t even try to hide the corny grin that spreads across his face.

“Have I ever told you the joke about the two goldfish in a tank?”

[nerdygirlramblings]

is it finally happening? 🤷🏻‍♀️

previous

The day you are cleared to return to duty, Adam texts you to come to the admin building, that Price needs to see you. You make your way back, sluggish and insecure. You hate your heats; they are a tangible reminder of your secondary designation. Yes, alphas have their ruts. They too get lost to their designated. But theirs is a drive to take and claim. Yours is, unfortunately, a drive to be taken. Claimed. Owned. And nothing embarrasses you more than the war inside between your desire to be independent, recognized for your own work, and your omega's desire to be possessed.

You're sure this meeting is about the pack. Price himself said you needed to talk about being pack after your heat. It was something you've been thinking about since Ghost's rut and the conversation with your parents, but you desperately need it to be on your terms. You know you want a pack - you've stopped lying to yourself about that - and you know they're open to courting you, at least they were when you first joined. But maybe that's changed? Maybe Price wants to tell you all you'll ever be is their teammate. And the rational part of you embraces that idea, likes being without a pack, appreciates the idea that any pack you might join wouldn't possibly interfere with your work. But your omega is violently making her presence known, snarling in your head, snapping at you when you think it would be better if Price and the others don't want you anymore.

Because she desperately wants them.

You're a little worried that you might have even cried out for Price and Ghost during your heat. Medical would have heard, but they won't say. You were too afraid of what the answer would be, so you didn't even ask when you left this morning.

Adam looks up as you walk over, comfort and concern clear on his face. "How are you doing?" he asks gently. His gaze travels over you, and you know he's cataloging every inch of your haggard appearance. With a frown, he asks, "Are you sure you've been cleared?" Technically, yes, base medical said you could resume your duties but they didn't recommend that you should. At least not for another day or two. This heat was apparently harder on your system than the previous one and the two you'd had at your last post. You know it's because your omega found her pack, and you denied her access to them.

Instead, you paste a smile on your face and wave Adam's well-intentioned concern away. "Yeah, just a bit tired is all. A little kip this afternoon should fix it," you tell him.

His frown is more pronounced, but he doesn't push. "Okay." You hear the skepticism. "They're all in the conference room."

You draw in a quick breath, and you can't keep your voice steady when you say, "Conference room? All?!" You hate how you practically squeak out the last word. Adam nods, and you walk stiffly to the door. When you open it, you're shocked to see Laswell on the screen. How humiliating will this be? It's one thing for them to decide they don't want you and cut off that avenue before it starts. It's another to do it in front of the woman who tasks your missions. How much of a failure will she see you as now? Will she even want your help?

"Ren, thank goodness," Laswell says when she sees you on screen. "We were about to get started, but I needed you here first."

You look at Price, hoping for some guidance about why Laswell would start a conversation about you not becoming their omega without you. The look he gives you in return is one of pure confusion. For the first time since receiving Adam's text, you find yourself unsure of your footing. Adam never said why Price wanted to see you, only that he did. Maybe this isn't about being pack after all.

You slide into the seat next to Gaz, same as last time, and Laswell starts. "First, the plan you and Gaz had, Ren, to snatch bits of info from everyone in Spinner's orbit gave us so much information to sift through we had to bring on extra analysts." You hang your head, ready to be scolded for causing trouble with your hairbrained idea. "But we picked up a number of threads we probably would have otherwise missed," Laswell continues. "That was some great out-of-the-box thinking," she praises.

Next to you, Gaz sits a little straighter and says, "The idea was all Ren, Laswell."

"Then, my thanks, Ren," she says, addressing you directly. "Between the little crumbs we got, and the information about the previous function Spinner attended, we were able to connect several targets to potential illegal activity. Which is why I want you and Gaz to attend the dinner in Waterloo this week. I was able to not only get tickets but put you at a table near enough to Spinner he'll be bound to spot you. Captain Price said he seemed to take an interest in you. I need you to lean into that-"

Ghost lets out a low growl, loud enough to be heard in the room but too quiet for the mic to pick it up. Price clears his throat, and from the corner of your eye, you see Soap reach out and put a hand on the lieutenant's arm. All the while Laswell keeps talking.

"-and see if Spinner is interested enough to reveal anything else. I'll arrange for Adam to take you shopping again."

"An' I need another collar," you blurt. Laswell and the team look at you. "I know 'e's this well-meaning socialite on the surface, but 'e's dark. I can get close to 'im, but I'm not doin' it without a collar." You try to keep the fear from your scent, but you haven't started the blockers again, and you worry it bleeds through the patches you threw on in medical.

Thankfully, Price and Gaz support you. "You didn't see 'ow he was wi' her, Laswell," Gaz says as Price tells you, "We'd never send ya into a situation like that without havin' yer back." You hear the whisper of Ghost's voice add, "We protect wha's ours."

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[satinestales]

❝here i blur into you❞ | qimir x fem!reader

pairing: qimir x fem!reader

summary: you've been stranded on an unknown island with your nemesis for weeks now, the air getting filled with unpalatable tension as you try to find a way to get away from him. one afternoon, the tension breaks as he offers his knowledge to help you train.

warnings: english is not my native language, reader also has a twin and has a similar situation as osha, reader is a bit paranoid, lot of foreplay from qimir, teasing, fingering, cunnilungus, vulgar terms,

now playing, acquainted by the weeknd

He smelled like sandalwood, filling the air every time he passed you by or handed you a plate of food. For the first few days, you ignored it, letting it brush against your nose, your thoughts concentrating on how to get out of the island or how to kill him without breaking the code. But after nights and nights of sleeping in the same cave, sharing his space, and smelling him in every corner, it started to drive you crazy.

You lost your nerves last morning during your hand-picked breakfast when he strolled into the cave after his morning swim, water still dripping from his hair, the smell punching you in the nose, leaving you dizzy and breathless. You didn't know where you wanted to go, but as you picked up your things and bottle of water, it wasn't your main concern.

The smell itself didn't bother you. He bothered you. You knew exactly what game he was playing. With your sister, he played the role of a big brother, older protecter that she always wanted and wished for. With you, his mask dropped, revealing a charming seductive character. Every time he handed you something, he towered over you, gazing into your eyes so intensely it made your knees shake. Or when he walked towards you, he took his time, his eyes going up and down your figure until they fixated on you, staring at you until he came so close you could feel his breath brushing over your face. The slightest touches of his hands, the knuckle strokes, the skin contact when he healed your wounds.

He was trying to seduce you, knowing your weaknesses, just so you'd turn your back on the jedi and stay with him. As a padawan, desire was one of the forbidden emotions, alongside hate, anger, and fear. You never felt the touch of another, not one you desired.

His act had its way with you. You didn't deny it, but it was just a role for him. A mask he put on whenever you were close. You wanted to know the real him and maybe even try to help him. Instead, you were met with lustful eyes and breathtaking smell of his. A few days ago, you returned his gaze when he spoke to you, to try to read his thoughts and emotions. You only saw the colour red.

After you stormed out of the cave, leaving Qimir wondering, you kept walking around for about thirty minutes before you found yourself surrounded by smaller rocks, standing ankles deep in a hot sand. It wasn't that far away from the cave but far enough to get away from him and his sandalwood smell.

You dropped your bottle and some spare clothes on one of the flat rocks, letting yourself fall on your ass, letting out an anxious breath. You had no idea what you were going to do, how to act, or how to survive the upcoming days. You were certain Sol was going to find you and save you. You started to think about Yord and Jecki. You weren't that close to Yord, even in your padawan days. Jecki, you knew from afar, but she always had a soft smile on her lips. Your heart ached for them, feeling guilty even if there was nothing you could do.

You sat there for hours, staring at your dirty shoes. You were frozen. You needed to train. You were sure there was going to be time when you would have to protect yourself against Qimir and his brute strength. He killed Yord with his bare hands. As long as you would attack his hands first, you'd be safe.

You found a branch, pictured it as a lightsaber, and started repeating over and over fighting methods you were taught by your master. You held up till the sunset, and when the sun rose again, you picked up the branch and started again.

You didn't bother with breaks. You kept going till your knees gave up, and your arms fell by your side. Your chest rose up and down fast as you sat down, the branch falling metres away from you. You rested your head against the closest rock, daring to close your eyes. You were away for almost a day, with no food, just water to keep you company. You slowly started to regret leaving so impulsively, but you had no idea what you would do if you'd stay another minute around the intoxicating smell of his.

You had to fall asleep, your body reacting to the unknown sound earlier than you. Trying to compose yourself as you rubbed your cheek, painful and red, from resting against the hard rock. You picked yourself up, turning around to find where the sound came from. It didn't take you long, for Qimir revealed himself, appearing just a few metres away from you, a bag around his shoulder. He took you in, scanning your body like he was searching for any weapons or injuries. He found nothing, only a thin branch right behind your feet.

"You could at least take some food." he broke the brooding silence and your mutual staring contest. His voice was soft, small tug on the corned of his lips. He wore his usual beige shirt, transparent to his muscles. You shook your head, trying to focus on something else than his forearms as he put down his bag to take out the stuff he brought you.

"I'm not hungry," you lied, holding steadily your position, scanning his every move. He took out all the food to put them on the rocks in front of you, gently, making sure not to drop anything. He didn't forget to bring you fresh water, new clothes and a lightsaber.

Lightsaber.

You took a quick step back at the sight of the lightsaber, your ankle meeting with a rock. He brought a lightsaber. He was going to kill you now. You were sure of it.

"It's for you," he read your mind, making himself a place to sit next to the food, lightsaber at the opposite end of the food row. He tilted his head, softly smiling at you. "The tide is going to end by tomorrow," he said, his eyes set low, eyebags underneath. "you could disappear."

"What do you want?" you asked, attitude and hidden fear in your voice. Why was he helping you. Why did he inform you about the tide and possible escape. Was he planning something?

"For you to eat," he smiled, his teeth showing up for a second. "I have no desire to hurt you or let you die of starvation." His hands rested on his lap, his eyes soft and gentle, morning sun reflecting in them. He was beautiful in this light. But you shook that though away.

"What's with the lightsaber," you pointed with your head to the weapon, not daring to move, feeling his eyes burn into your skin.

"I made it for you," he replied quietly, looking over at the saber. You flinched when he slowly stood up, walking towards it to pick it up, holding it so the handle could be in your direction. He was close, too close to your liking, a small circle of rocks surrounding you two. "Figured you'd want one." he purred, taking slow steps towards you, not breaking his gaze at you. Like he was waiting for you to run, taking in every detail of you.

He stopped at arm length, lifting the lightsaber to you. You didn't move to take it and just stared at it. It was small compared to his hand, plainly black.

"How long is it since you've held one?" he asked, almost in whisper, looking down at you with curiousity. You didn't answer, forcing to look away from the saber, mirroring his intense gaze. You tried to read him again but failed. You were too tired to even see one small thought. He took a step closer, instinctively you wanted to take a step back, but the rock behind you made you stumble, Qimir's arm catching you sharply, pulling you back up.

He was so close now that the saber handle was touching your ribs, his breath tickling your face again, the sandalwood, again, penetrating the air. You tried to move away, pushing against him, but he didn't move an inch. He looked like a marble statue against the light.

"Take it," he growled, shaking with the saber a little. When you still didn't move, he took your hand and placed it on the weapon, his grip strong and tense. "Turn it on," he moved even closer, the head of the lightsaber pushing against his abdomen.

Turn it on.

You repeated his words.

Turn it on and get it over with.

Only you couldn't. You tried to force your hand to move, but like someone froze it, it was paralyzed.

"I'm not like you." You managed to let out, breaking your neck to look up at him. "I don't attack the unarmed."

"When did I attack the defenceless?" he asked, still holding your arm firmly, keeping you standing in one place. His hair fell like a black curtain around his eyes that stared into yours, awaiting an answer.

"Jecki," your voice broke at the memory of her. She had no reason to be there. She should have been safe at the temple.

You heard him take a deep breath, his fingers slightly amplifying the pressure around your wrist. "She attacked first,"

"She was a child." You raised your voice, trying to move away from him but as much as you wanted he didn't let you.

"Your Master brought her there. He knew the risk." He replied, his voice soft and calm with no hints of remorse.

"What do you want?" You cried out, furrowing your eyebrows. You wanted to scream at him, punch him, fight him, erase the stupid smell he had that drove you crazy and confused your thoughts.

"For you to eat," he repeated, stupid smile dancing on his lips. For a second, you wondered why he wore a mask to hide his beautiful face, but you quickly erased it. With the final push, he let go of your arm and stared at you as you made your way towards the food. You devoured embarrassingly quickly, forgetting about the claim you weren't hungry. All the time he stood there, watching you carefully.

When you finished eating, you took advantage of the bird that took Qimir's attention for a moment to hide the fork and knife behind your belt. It was stupid, but it counted as something. You could sharpen it using the rocks and use it when he'd attack you in your sleep.

"Why won't you kill me?" You asked after you finished your plate, reaching for the water bottle. You felt his stare. Everywhere. At that point you didn't know if he was still playing the role of a whore or he just had a staring problem. Both options made you nervous.

"As I said, I have no desire to." He smiled, kneeling down to squat. He slowly started rolling up his sleeves, the scars on his arms now more visible than ever. His long, thick fingers were wrapped around the lightsaber, his other hand now hanging in the air.

It was useless talking to him. It was obvious before, ridiculous now. You nodded, accepting you won't get any honest answer out of him.

"Thanks for the food, you better get going now." You slowly stood up, your stomach full and warm. "Time for your daily swim." you added, hoping he'd leave you alone till tomorrow when you could swim to the other side and leave this abandoned island.

You didn't hear him letting out a chuckle, his dimples showing. "I can take one here," he pointed at the calm water in front of you, guarded by gigantic rocks.

Great.

"Do whatever you want," you murmured, trying to convince yourself you're okay with his presence. Naked presence. You saw him the first few days, where you followed him every morning, not trusting anything he said. He invited you to join him every time, and every time you didn't say anything, just stood on guard, scanning and taking in every movement he made.

He was well built, with big arms, strong back, and powerful legs. Was he stripping in front of you as a part of his act, or was he just that unbothered by your presence. You hoped it was neither. You rather got tricked than ignored.

"Okay," you heard him murmur, walking towards you for his clothes. You flinched, taking a big step away from him, finding the lightsaber lying in the sand. As he slowly made his way to the water and started to undress, you took the lightsaber in your hands, feeling it, remembering the last time you held it.

You started your routine again, this time with your lightsaber, the branch left lying in the sand. You were well aware he was watching you, motivating you to show off and not to embarrass yourself.

Minutes ran by before you heard a splash, Qimir walking out of the water. You didn't even think to turn around, but your body decided for you. Your head tilted his direction, your eyes going up and down his figure. It wasn't the first time you saw it but this time you saw it from a clear view.

Suddenly, you had a hard time swallowing the saliva forming in your mouth, your heart aggressively punching your ribs.

Focus.

You quickly turned your head back, hoping to remember what you were doing before you scanned his form. You wondered if it would hurt, or would it be pleasurable.

You felt shame thinking about these things, but you never received an answer. The Jedi around you never answered, and those outside you didn't trust.

The unknown heat overtook you again, you had to close your eyes to regain your focus. Instead, The Force directed you back to him. His grin fixated his lips as he put on his clothes, not bothering to dry himself. Water droplets falling from his hair to his shoulders, his muscles forming themselves against the skin-tight robe.

Opening your eyes, you took a glimpse of your lightsaber, unaware of Qimir slowly approaching you. You practised your movements, your hand twists, and leg work. You had to get used to the weight of the lightsaber after years of not touching one.

You stopped yourself from turning his direction when you felt his touch on your shoulders.

"Keep your shoulders back," he whispered, forcing your shoulders back into their correct position. You froze, now only focusing on the warmth reflecting of his body. He bent over so his lips could reach your ears, and his hands travelled down to your biceps. "Your elbows up. You have them too low." he simply added, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You pressed your legs together, unaware of your need.

You listened to him, tho, keeping your shoulders and elbows in the position he moved them. His hands didn't touch you fully, only tickling the surface of your skin, but it was enough to make you burn.

"You need to spread your legs," he added, hearing a small smile while informing you. You fought the urge to turn and hit him in the face with the lightsaber handle.

When you didn't listen, he forced his knee between your legs, forcing them apart.

"So you don't fall over," he whispered against your ear, the little hair on your neck standing up.

"I didn't ask for help," you uttered, bitterness in your tone. You wanted him gone, but not for the same reason you did yesterday. For the reason that he made you have physical reactions without touching you. Having to press your legs together because of his voice. Feeling your skin burn by feeling him pressed against your back.

"You obviously need it," He smiled against your earlobe before pulling back just to let his hands fall onto yours, checking the way you hold your saber. He fixed the placement of your fingers, his breath on your neck erasing all of your thoughts. His warm wet chest pressed against your back, his breath tickling you. Your ass pressed against his abdomen. It was all too much for you. You shouldn't be feeling this way.

Yes, he was attractive. Yes, he was charismatic and soft when he wanted to be. But he wield the power of the dark side. He couldn't be trusted. You were scared the dreams you were having so often might become true.

"Use your thumb," he woke you up from your thoughts, pushing himself against your back as he held your hands. His voice was low and dark. "Place it on the top to hold it steadily. That way, it won't slip out of your hands, and you won't have to use strength to keep it in place." Even the way he talked and taught you almost drove you over the edge. You knew that's what he wanted and fought hard against it.

"I know how to hold a lightsaber." You hissed, shaking off his hands. Regretting it as his hands found its way to your lower back, pushing in, you had to hold back a moan,

"Straight posture." he simply said, ignoring you, leaving his hands on the back of your hips. You focused on taking deep breaths, hoping the heat between your legs would go away.

Almost as if he felt it, his hands moved from the back to the front, tickling the exposed skin of your stomach. You wanted to cry out, his touch driving you insane. You wanted to do something and, at the same time, nothing. You wanted him to take you, but you also wanted to drive the lightsaber through his skull.

"You won't fight anyone without a straight posture," he emphasized, pushing his fingers into your stomach, holding you in place.

"I've fought many people without you before." you replied angrily, a small moan leaving your lips at the end of the sentence as he moved his fingers lower, under your belly button.

"And did you win?" he mocked you, whispering into your ear. His hands right above the place you used your fingers while wishing they were his.

You were done with his stupid comments and mockery, pushing against him to turn and punch him, but he didn't let you move a muscle. He was too strong.

"What do they teach you," he asked, genuine curiosity in his tone. "They don't teach you how to stand still or how to hold a lightsaber. Only how to surpress your emotions to become a hollow shell."

"That's not true," you argued. "We are taught to control our emotions, to feel them but not to let them get the best out of us."

"So why do you supress what you really want?" his voice turned into whisper again, his thumb making circling motion on your lower stomach. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew you were about to give up.

"Why do you shy away from your desire?" he added, using little to no strength to bring you skin to skin to him, feeling his length on your lower back.

Accidental moan left your lips. You closed your eyes out of embarrassment, wishing he didn't hear that. But you weren't that stupid.

"It's the path, path to the dark side." you stumbled over your words, feeling his fingers go lower, right above the belt of your pants.

Fuck.

"Then stop me," he whispered, his index finger going slowly underneath the hem of your pants. "Stop my hand. I'll let you." he added.

You didn't move a muscle. Only rested your head against his chest and let your arms fall by your side, lightsaber falling into the sand. You wanted him, and he wanted you. There was no reason to fight it. That was a problem for your future self.

"Tell me," he purred, his right hand painfully slowly maling their way to the hem of your panties. "Has anyone ever touched you like this?"

He was mocking you, playing with you. He knew no one ever had. You didn't count. "No," was your simple answer, wanting to dig yourself a deep hole in the ground and bury yourself in it.

"How does it feel?" he asked, his fingers finally reaching your wet bundle of nerves, slowly starting to circle your clit. You grabbed his arm out of shock, digging your nails into his skin. It felt too good. You were dripping wet, it was too easy for him to find your weak spot.

"As a Jedi, you can't even be with the people you love," he murmured into your ear before starting to leave small kisses down to your neck. "Can't give them the pleasure they deserve."

His fingers started to go up and down your clit, always stopping right before your entrance. You wanted to start begging for him to take you, but you didn't want to embarrass yourself more than you already have. You didn't pay attention to anything he was saying, only focusing on his fingers driving you crazy, making it difficult to keep a steady stance.

"What kind of life is that? Hmm?" His sloppy kisses and his fingers teasing your core themselves, almost had you falling over the edge. You were so touch deprived you were surprised you didn't cum when he touched you for the first time.

"Qimir," you cried out, wanting his fingers inside of you already. The first time, you said his name out loud. And he listened. His fingers stopped their movements, deserving an annoyed groan from you. He took them out of your pants, placing them on your waist to circle you so he could be face to face with you.

He didn't say anything before he bent his legs, kneeling in front of you, letting the sand swallow him. He looked up at you with pitch-black eyes, hinting on your pants. You understood, taking your time but nodding, letting him take off your pants and underwear.

The urge to cover your face and run away was strong, but the feeling of his mouth on your clit was stronger. You cried out hard, grabbing his hair as he dipped his tongue between your folds. This is what the Jedi deprived you of. You wanted to scream.

Qirim's tongue moved with rhythm against your dripping cunt, his fingers holding you still by your hips. Your hands were tangled in his hair, tugging on them every time he moved his tongue, teasing your entrance.

"Fuck," you hissed, your knees bending. Qimir quickly caught you, not stopping assaulting your clit. "Qimir, please," you begged. You weren't sure what you were wishing for anymore, but his name in your mouth felt almost as good as his tongue felt between your folds.

Your arms moved from his hair to his shoulders, holding yourself steady when his hand left your hip to put them between your legs. You caught a glimpse of his face when you looked down. Lustful dark eyes, messy hair, sweaty against his forehead, his nose and mouth covered in your slick. The view itself almost had you cumming on his tongue. So when his fingers joined the game, pushing inside of you, betwen your walls you let a pornographic moan. You were alone on this island but if someone was on the other end, you were certain they could hear you.

His fingers moved fast, in and out of you, spreading and curling inside of you. He was gentle with you at first but as he felt you getting closer and closer to the edge he threw all the respect out of the window, fucking you mercilessly with his thick fingers.

If his mouth and fingers had you screaming his name you wondered how his cock would feel.

"Qimir, I'm- " you cried out, wanting to warn him, but he felt it. The way your walls started to contract, crushing his fingers inside of you. His tongue kept circling your clit, adding to the pleasure. You were sure you formed new scars on his shoulders as you came hard around his fingers and tongue, failing to catch your breath and keep your legs straight and strong.

He held you for a few minutes as you rested against him, his lips still glossy with your wetness. Without thinking, you bended over to press your lips against his, tasting yourself, mixed with the flavor of him.

[jiminomenon]

model! karina cheers assistant! reader up

pairing: model! karina x assistant! female reader

word count: 1k+

summary: y/n was having an absolutely miserable morning, and everyone—including jimin—felt the effects of her foul mood. snapping at people left and right, she wanted nothing more than to be left alone, but of course, jimin had other plans. unwilling to deal with a sulky assistant all day, the spoiled model took it upon herself to fix y/n’s mood—whether she wanted her to or not.

from my series: the devil wears prada

y/n knew it was going to be a bad day the moment she woke up. her alarm didn’t go off, meaning she had to rush through her morning routine. her coffee machine—her lifeline—refused to work. then, as if the universe was out to get her, she stepped outside only to be met with pouring rain and no umbrella. by the time she arrived at jimin’s penthouse, drenched, exhausted, and running purely on frustration, she was already dangerously close to losing her patience.

“you’re late,” jimin commented, lounging on the couch with a cup of steaming coffee in her perfectly manicured hands. she didn’t even need coffee that morning; she just liked the aesthetic of holding it.

y/n shot her a sharp glare as she squeezed water out of her sleeves. “gee, thanks for the observation, sherlock.”

jimin raised an eyebrow at the attitude but didn’t say anything. yet.

the day only got worse from there. y/n had back-to-back calls, urgent emails, and a schedule to fix because someone (cough jimin cough) decided she didn’t feel like attending a certain shoot last minute. every little inconvenience grated on her nerves, and soon, she found herself snapping at anyone who so much as looked at her the wrong way.

even the model herself.

“ugh, can you stop hovering?” y/n snapped when jimin followed her into the kitchen, watching her struggle to open a stubborn bottle of water.

jimin, who usually had a snarky comeback for everything, simply tilted her head. “you’re in a bad mood.”

“no shit.”

instead of getting annoyed like usual, jimin just hummed. “hmm. i don’t like this.”

y/n scoffed. “well, i don’t like today, but here we are.”

jimin didn’t leave her alone after that. in fact, she made it her mission to pester y/n. during meetings, she’d text her ridiculous things like ‘what if i got bangs? do u think i’d look hotter?’ or ‘i saw a dog today. it was ugly. reminded me of you.’ ‘go get princess that new limited edition cat dress from givenchy’

when that didn’t work, she started physically annoying her—poking her arm, pulling on the sleeve of her blazer, even stealing her pen when she was trying to write something down.

“jimin, i swear to god—”

“oh, look at that. you’re saying my name now instead of ‘ms. yu.’ progress!” jimin smirked.

y/n groaned, rubbing her temples. “what do you want?”

“you, but less grumpy.”

“not happening.”

jimin gasped dramatically. “so mean. what happened to my lovely assistant?”

“she’s dead. may she rest in peace.”

but of course, jimin never knew how to give up. later in the afternoon, she disappeared for a while, only to return holding—of all things—y/n’s favorite pastry from that overpriced bakery she always talked about.

y/n blinked. “where did you get that?”

“doesn’t matter.” jimin placed it in front of her. “eat it.”

y/n frowned. “why are you being nice?”

jimin rolled her eyes. “i’m always nice.”

y/n snorted. “you’re never nice.”

“and yet, here i am, doing charity work by cheering up my grumpy little assistant.”

y/n stared at her, then at the pastry, then back at her. ugh. she hated to admit it, but… it was kind of sweet. with a sigh, she finally took a bite.

jimin watched her expectantly. “better?”

y/n chewed, pretending to think. “eh. a little.”

jimin smirked. “knew it.”

y/n shook her head but couldn’t fight the small smile forming on her lips. maybe today wasn’t completely terrible. as much as y/n hated to admit it, jimin’s efforts were helping. just a little. but she wasn’t about to give the bratty model that satisfaction so easily.

jimin, however, was relentless.

“so,” jimin started as she plopped down onto the couch beside y/n, far too close for comfort. “what else do i have to do to make you stop sulking? want me to book you a vacation? buy you a new car? oh, wait—maybe you want me to drive you around in said car. imagine that, ms. assistant, getting chauffeured by me.”

y/n shot her a deadpan look. “why do you sound like a rich old man trying to solve his problems with money?”

jimin gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in fake offense. “how dare you? i am far from an old man.”

“you have the attitude of one.”

jimin narrowed her eyes. “you really are in a mood today.”

y/n sighed and leaned back, rubbing her temples. “look, i appreciate whatever you’re trying to do, but i just… i need some space, okay?”

jimin frowned. she didn’t like that answer. not one bit. y/n was hers to annoy, to pester, to keep close—space was not part of their arrangement. but instead of voicing her complaints, she stayed quiet for a moment, thinking.

then, out of nowhere, she got up and disappeared into the other room. y/n didn’t think much of it at first—jimin was unpredictable like that. but a few minutes later, she returned with something in her hands.

a blanket.

before y/n could ask, jimin tossed it over her, making sure it covered her entire body.

“…what are you doing?” y/n mumbled from under the fabric.

“i’m tucking you in. obviously.”

“tucking me in? i’m not a child.”

jimin scoffed. “well, you’re acting like one.”

y/n huffed, but she was too exhausted to argue. the weight of the blanket was warm and oddly comforting. she peered up at jimin, who was looking down at her with an unreadable expression.

“…why are you being nice?” y/n finally asked.

jimin crossed her arms. “you’re annoying when you’re in a bad mood. and if this is what it takes to make you stop being annoying, then fine. i’ll allow it.”

y/n gave her a look. “wow. you really suck at being genuine.”

“and yet, here i am, taking care of your grumpy ass,” jimin quipped back.

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the tiny smile tugging at her lips. she sighed, finally letting the tension melt from her shoulders. maybe jimin’s ways were unconventional, but at the end of the day, she did make her feel better.

“thanks, i guess,” y/n muttered, barely audible.

jimin smirked. “huh? what was that?”

y/n groaned, pulling the blanket over her face. “don’t push it, yu.”

but the way jimin’s smirk softened into something almost fond did not go unnoticed.

“just rest for now, m’kay? be in a better mood when you wake up.”

[hyucksos]

after rain, comes sunshine — huang renjun

pairing: huang renjun x f!reader genre: coworkers to lovers, grumpy x sunshine, fluff, romance, slow burn-ish wc: 6.7k synopsis: a thunderstorm leaves renjun stuck with his relentlessly cheerful, ever-optimistic coworker— you. you're the embodiment of everything he hates, but as the night stretches on, renjun starts to realise that the things that irritate him the most may not be all that unbearable after all. at least, not if it involves you.

There are three things in this world that Renjun hates.

Early mornings, small talk, and thunderstorms.

He must have done something super horrible in his past life, because it's barely even 3pm, and Renjun has had to go through all three of the aforementioned in that exact order.

He wasn't even supposed to come in to work today, but Donghyuck had called in sick (Renjun finds that hard to believe) and he was the only other person on the roster who knew how to make a Toasted Caramel Cloud Latte. Obviously, that wasn't a good enough reason for Renjun to willingly sacrifice his much-needed sleep, and it seemed that Donghyuck knew that too, because not only was he quick to promise Renjun to cover him for his next shift, the boy had also vowed to chip in to buy the new set of gouache paints he had been eyeing for so long.

That was what got Renjun out of bed, albeit begrudgingly.

The last thing he needed was an extra factor to contribute to his already-terrible mood, but that was what he got anyway when he stepped into the café, only to be met with you.

"Morning, Renjun!" You chirped from behind the counter as you dried down a mug, the café already prepped for opening— you liked to take your time when doing the opening duties, and you found that coming in earlier helped avoid any unnecessary rushing on your end.

Renjun didn't say anything, opting to shut his eyes as he tilted his head to the ceiling. You didn't miss the tick of his jaw as he trudged towards you wordlessly, letting his bag fall from his shoulder to the shelf beneath the cash register.

"You know how to make a cloud latte," he muttered under his breath as he put on his apron, securing it tightly with a double knot behind his back. "Why am I here?"

Despite his less-than-enthused response, you grinned. You've been working with Renjun long enough to know that he's a little bit of a grump, so you didn't take his moodiness to heart.

"Hyuck's your best friend. It would make sense for him to ask you instead of anyone else," you reasoned lightly. "Plus, having company isn't so bad, is it? You'll be out the door before you know it!"

"Citizens are advised to stay indoors..."

Renjun lets out a groan as he lets his head hit the cabinet behind him. It hurts, but not as much as the migraine that's already beginning to form in his temples. And as if to add insult to injury (no pun intended), the sky lets out yet another guttural rumble, reminding him once more of his ill-stricken fate.

"I don't think Seoul's had a downpour this bad in ages," you remark from somewhere at the dining area. Renjun couldn't tell where exactly you are; he had slid down to the floor when he decided to accept his fate fifteen minutes ago, and his only view since are the bottles of syrup and unopened bags of coffee beans under the espresso machines.

And as if to add even more insult to injury, the two of you are the only ones left in the shop. With it being a Tuesday afternoon, most of your regulars are either at work or school. Renjun has never liked working during the rush hour, but God does he wish for that to be the case now.

He looks up when he sees your head pop above the counter, raising a brow at the smile on your face. He knows how awfully cheery you are, but even in a time like this? You must be crazy, he thinks.

"Isn't this nice? I never knew this café could get any cozier."

"Nice?" Renjun scoffs as he finally gets to his feet. "What about this is nice? We're stuck in, I don't know, what might as well be a Cat 5 hurricane, and you think it's nice?"

You roll your eyes, seemingly unbothered by his sharp tone. "You're so dramatic! I've been in one, you know? While I was on vacation in the States. It was a Cat 2, I think, and I promise this doesn't even come close to that! I mean, as long as we're not asked to evacuate, we should be fine-"

Renjun lets out a loud tsk, cutting you off as he unties his apron rashly, the fabric crumpling in his hand.

Your eyes widen when you register his movements. "You're not actually planning on leaving, are you?"

Renjun scoffs dryly in response. "You think I have a death wish?"

"Honestly? I could never tell when it comes to you."

He glares at you.

You quickly round the counter, successfully trapping him before he could escape to the break room. "Look, I'm sure it won't be too bad! Let's just continue to wait for updates. Coffee?"

"I hate coffee," he deadpans.

"You literally work in a café!" You laugh airily, moving to the teabag jars beside the espresso machines. Despite the heater being on, the coolness from the outside is starting to seep in, and you're sure Renjun could feel it too.

He doesn't say anything but huff under his breath as he leans against the cabinets behind him, taking out his phone from his back pocket. You take it that he's done with the conversation.

For a while, it's silent, the only sound apart from the tinkling of your metal spoon the harsh crashing of raindrops against the window panes outside. You think it's calming, but Renjun seems to think otherwise when you see him flinch from your periphery at the sudden flash that illuminates the room, soon followed by a loud boom of thunder.

Instinctively, you turn to him, but Renjun keeps his eyes fixed to his phone, his lips downturned into his usual frown.

"Did you know that lightning is hotter than the surface of the sun?" You remark, crossing the distance towards him with the mug of tea in your hands. Renjun looks up from his phone at your question, his stare blank, but his right brow raises slightly when he realises what you're offering.

He doesn't make the move to accept the mug as he pockets his phone, opting to cross his arms instead. "What are you doing?"

You tilt your head. "Huh?"

He nods towards the steaming mug in your hands. "What are you trying to do?"

"You said you don't like coffee, so I made you tea instead! It's Lemon Balm, known to reduce anxiety. It could also improve one's mood-"

"Yeah, so long as I'm still trapped in here, that's not gonna happen," he mutters, turning to face the window outside.

The rain is still as relentless as ever, the skies dark and gloomy despite it being daytime. If it was any other day, Renjun would have already been out the door, making his way home. A regular eight-hour shift is already treacherous enough on it's own— an eight-hour shift with you, while it's raining, on top of that, has got to be one of the worst things that's ever happened to Renjun in a while, which says a lot considering he's literally living in the same timeline as Lee Donghyuck.

Renjun turns to steal a glance at you, no longer at his side as you busy yourself with doing the dishes. As if just now never happened, you're back to humming to yourself, the song only sounding vaguely familiar to his ears. The cup of tea you made him is left abandoned on the counter, and for a split second he feels guilty for having not accepting it earlier.

You see, it's not like Renjun hates you. He's just indifferent, and that makes a huge difference. He's someone who prefers to keep to himself, a concept that you can't seem to fathom for some reason, and he finds your overtly-positive attitude equal parts annoying and draining. Renjun doesn't hate you— he just hates everything you embody, and that's enough to make him stay away.

"Look what I found!"

The last time Renjun heard your voice has to be around a few hours ago, when he decided to move from the counter to one of the couches in the dining area. It wasn't the most ideal considering the floor-length windows still gave him the perfect view of rain that he hated so much, but his legs were beginning to hurt from standing for so long and he didn't really want to sit on the floor and deal with your small talk any longer.

You must have gotten the hint when you decided to leave him alone, retreating to the break room to do God-knows-what— based on the grin on your face now, Renjun has a feeling that he's going to find out very soon.

You bound towards him, settling next to him with something in your hands. Your eyes instantly land on the sketchbook on his lap, but before you could say anything, like utter out a compliment on his drawing, Renjun snatches the pad away from your sight.

"What?" He grunts, cheeks feeling slightly warm for some reason. He had abandoned his phone some time earlier, deciding to peruse his sketchbook to pass the time. It was a good thing he brought it out everywhere he went— as awful of a situation he's stuck in, at least he has something familiar to keep his sanity in check.

Your grin grows wider (Renjun wonders how that's even possible) before you set a box between the two of you.

"I was bored, right? So I figured I'd clean out the break room to pass the time, and I found this! Johnny must have left it here and forgot about it."

Renjun studies the blue box, the words HALLI GALLI staring back at him in bold, yellow font. Oh, hell no. You're the last person he wants to play a card game with— not just because you're you, but also the fact that he just doesn't fare well with games in general.

It's not like Renjun is bad at them— if anything, it's quite the opposite, but the last time he played Halli Galli, he had almost gotten into a fistfight with his friends (he had to receive a kiss penalty from Donghyuck even though he won because Mark kept making up rules as they went along). Needless to say, all their game nights now require the presence of a moderator (not like that has done much anyway considering Jaemin hates intervening in literally anything ever, so Renjun doesn't know why they still try).

"I'm not playing this with you."

"Aw, why not? It's fun! Even for serious people like you," you tease, but Renjun doesn't laugh. Ignoring him, you continue, "we could make the most of this quiet time together."

"Nothing about today has been quiet," Renjun mutters. He's pretty sure you heard him, but you simply brush it off as you open the box, letting the cards fall on the sofa while you place the bell in the middle.

Renjun huffs, knowing he isn't left with a choice. You're adamant, he realises, and even if he weren't to give in now, he knows he'd have to eventually, and he'd rather deal with this now than later on.

You start the game, putting down a card of two coconuts before you glance at Renjun, waiting for him to complete his turn. He does the same (albeit much less enthusiastic than you), his card flipping to the other side to reveal four strawberries.

The game continues on that way, with you practically at the edge of your seat as you anticipate every next move. You had just put down three bananas, and your eyes are fixed on Renjun's hands as he slowly flips his card to reveal... two bananas.

You yelp, palm quickly outstretching to hit the bell, and despite Renjun's obvious disinterest in the game (or so you thought), you're surprised to learn that he's just as quick, his hand clashing against yours as you fight to ring the bell at the same time.

"I definitely got that one!" You proclaim proudly, to which Renjun scoffs.

"No way, you're barely even on the bell!"

"Nuh-uh, look! Your hand is literally on top of mine!" You wriggle your fingers for good measure, causing Renjun to look down at your hand— both of your hands, which are still on the bell. You were right; while most of your palm is covering the bell, only the tips of his fingers are touching the metal surface, the rest of his skin resting idly on the back of your hand. He's never really noticed how tiny your hands are— it's not like he's that huge of a guy to begin with— and the thought somehow brings an unexplainable flush to his face.

He quickly removes his hand, carding through his deck for the sole purpose of having something to do before passing you a card. "You just got lucky," he mutters, clearing his throat.

You giggle. "No, I'm just that good," you sing, waving the card mockingly in front of his face before putting it together with your deck.

Renjun rolls his eyes. You remind him so much of Donghyuck; it's a wonder how he isn't your best friend.

"I used to play this game a lot when I was younger," you quip randomly in the midst of the next round. You do that a lot, Renjun realises, stating facts he didn't ask for when it gets too quiet. It used to leave him not knowing how to react, but if there's anything Renjun has learnt about you in this limited time you've spent together, is that you don't need a response from him to continue talking, so he doesn't say anything.

"I'm an only child, so visiting my grandparents in Jeju was the only time I'd get to hang out with my cousins. We'd do everything together— even stay up late and wake up early the next morning so no time would be wasted. It was a wonder how we never ran out of things to do," you chuckle to yourself, fiddling with the cards in your hand.

"One time, it started to rain super heavily— kind of like right now, actually— all while we were cycling outside. Instead of seeking shelter, we decided to play in the rain. We got home freezing our toes off and I fell sick the next morning, but it was so worth it. I wouldn't trade that moment for anything else," you trail off softly, and Renjun doesn't miss the twinge of longing in your voice. At this point, the game had been long abandoned, your attention now fixed on the rain outside and Renjun on you. You turn to him, the fond smile still playing on your lips, and that is what causes him to look away, only then realising that he had been staring.

"What about you?"

Renjun's brows knit in confusion. "Huh?"

"You don't seem to like the rain very much."

"Yes, because it inconveniences people. Kind of like the situation we're in right now, don't you think?" His tone comes off as a little snappy, but before Renjun could regret it, you're already beaming at him in response. He wonders if you're ever capable of any other emotion apart from happiness.

"Sure, but look at where it brought us! Two friends, bonding, towards becoming even better friends!"

Nevermind. He doesn't feel bad anymore, not when he remembers that this is who he's dealing with right now. Plus, the term friends is a little bit of a stretch, isn't it? He doesn't know anything about you apart from the fact that— well, you're an only child and that your grandparents live in Jeju. He doesn't even know your last name, and he'd like to think that that should be the minimum requirement before considering someone a friend.

He rolls his eyes as he lazily throws his last card, ready to wrap up the game, only to perk up when he sees his lone strawberry face-up with four of yours. Quickly, he reaches forward to ring the bell, grinning in triumph when he realises you hadn't gone head-to-head this time.

"A-ha! I win!" Renjun smirks proudly, too caught up in his victory to realise that he's smiling. It falters when he notices you staring at him— not in defeat, but something much... softer. It looks similar to when you were recounting your memories with your family in Jeju. It looks like Jaemin when he's scrolling through pictures of his three cats in his gallery. It looks like Mark... when he's on FaceTime with his girl whenever they do long-distance.

Suddenly, Renjun could no longer hear the rain thumping harshly against the window next to him. He could no longer see the lightning that comes in flashes, nor does he flinch at the thunder that follows. Only two words form in his head:

Oh, shit.

lee donghyuck [3:41pm] yowww 🔥🔥🔥 [3:53pm] r u alive? lol [4:02pm] wait no like actually r u???? [4:22pm] pls tell me ur sfae omg im gonna start sobbinf and cryin rn dont evne [4:46pm] HUANG RENJUN [5:12pm] NAWWW we really lost an angel today.... jun i hope ur looking up at us 🙏🙏🙏

huang renjun [5:24pm] UP???

lee donghyuck [5:24pm] oh hey lol [5:24pm] wyd

Renjun utters a curse under his breath as he switches to his phone app, bringing the device to his ear immediately after he dials Donghyuck's number. It rings twice before the boy picks up.

"Injun-ah!" Donghyuck's voice is hoarse— so he wasn't lying about being sick. That doesn't make Renjun any less annoyed, though. "I was so worried-"

"Cut the shit, Hyuck. Did you know?"

Donghyuck is silent before he replies, as though carefully choosing his next words. "... Know what?"

"That she likes me."

"That who likes- oh my God. Did she tell you already?" If it's even possible, Donghyuck's already-naturally nasally voice sounds even more annoying now that he's excited while sick.

"What?" Renjun hisses into his phone, glancing around the room to make sure he wasn't too loud. Granted, he's currently alone in the men's room and he's 90% sure you aren't outside eavesdropping, but he could never be too careful. "So it's true?"

"I mean, only because she was so fucking obvious," Donghyuck snickers before he breaks out into a fit of coughs. "I'm surprised it took you this long to notice."

Renjun groans. "How the hell was I supposed to know? She talks to everyone the same way!"

"Dude, have you seen the way she looks at you? It's like when Jaemin looks at Luke, Lucy, and Lu-"

"Yeah, yeah. I got it, alright?" Renjun grumbles. "Shit, what should I do now?"

"Um, nothing? It's not like you're even supposed to know that she likes you," Donghyuck quips plainly. "Dude, why are you even freaking out? Wait- do you like her back?"

"No!" Renjun exclaims, a little too quick for his own liking. Maybe it's because he could practically see the teasing smirk on his friend's lips, or maybe it's just the suggestion that sounds so fucking absurd he had to shut it down immediately. "It's just- look, I've been nothing short of mean to her this entire time so I kinda feel bad, alright? Why would she even like me like that? I mean- is she some sort of masochist, or something?"

Donghyuck guffaws, clearly not about to let his embarrassing stuttering slide. "Okay? And why are you so worried? Since, you know, you don't like her like that and all."

"You're hopeless," Renjun mutters, not bothering to bid Donghyuck goodbye before he hangs up. He should've known that the boy is the last ever person he should seek advice from; Jaemin would have made for a better candidate.

But calling Jaemin now would only be suspicious, and Renjun knows it would only be a matter of time before you would knock on his door to ask if he's doing alright— because that's just who you are as a person.

Huh, maybe he does know you better than he thought.

Renjun has long given up hope that he'd be going home tonight. The thunderstorm is still as relentless as ever, the skies growing even darker now that the sun has set. The café is bathed in a warm light, and under a different circumstance he would've found it cozy.

You're situated behind the counter now, probably having moved there when he was in the restroom. Instead of going back to the couch, Renjun finds himself heading towards you. He doesn't know why.

"Forecast says the rain won't stop until morning." You don't look at him as you say this, and Renjun quickly notices the two cups of instant noodles you're currently busying yourself with, the rising steam swirling lazily in the air. You only turn to him once you're done mixing the noodles, a sympathetic smile on your face. "Looks like we'd have to stay the night."

"You sound oddly sad for someone who claims to love the rain." Against his better judgement, the words slip out of his mouth. Renjun thinks it must have something to do with his conversation with Donghyuck earlier, because why does he feel like he's being weird all of a sudden?

You merely shrug, handing one of the cups to him. This time, he accepts it, and Renjun tries not to flinch at the feeling of your fingers brushing against his.

"Well, I still do! If I could, I'd run outside right now and play in the rain, but the news just issued a lightning alert and I'd rather not risk getting struck, you know. Besides, staying inside isn't all that bad," you quip lightheartedly, a small grin on your face as you bring your chopsticks to your lips, blowing on your noodles lightly.

Renjun doesn't say anything, his brows only furrowing at your response. How is it that you're still so cheery even after everything that's happened? It's as though you didn't just find out that you're literally stranded here with no way home until the next morning.

The room illuminates momentarily when thunder strikes, and this time, Renjun does flinch. If he wasn't already holding on to his cup of noodles so tightly, it would have already spilled all over him. Clearly, you notice, and you don't look away quickly enough to act like you didn't.

"You know, I've learnt recently that a lightning bolt is only as wide as your thumb, but it could stretch on for miles," you say as you swallow your food, showing a thumbs-up as you grin at him playfully. "It's kind of crazy, right? How something so small could be so powerful?"

Renjun clenches his jaw, shutting his eyes momentarily. "Alright," he mutters, placing his cup on the counter. "Why do you keep doing that?"

You raise your brows, lowering your hand. "Doing what?"

"That. Every time it gets loud and I- I startle, you tell me some random fact, as if it's going to magically drown out the thunder."

"Well, it works, doesn’t it? It’s my secret technique to distract you! And think about it this way: every time it thunders, I get to share a cool tidbit with you. Like how lightning can strike the same place twice!”

"Yeah, because that makes me feel so much better," Renjun mumbles, though he finds that the edge in his voice has softened.

"Oh, relax." You roll your eyes jokingly. "Lightning only often hits tall structures like trees or skyscrapers, so you’re safe here with me.”

He scoffs. "Tall? Is that a jab?"

You gape, and you fear that you've struck a nerve within him. "N-No! I mean, I'm just saying! You're probably just not tall enough to worry about it, unless you're like, I don't know, Yao Ming or something," you start to ramble. "Even then, did you know that the tallest man in the world is a whole foot taller than him? I guess he would have a higher chance of getting struck by lightning, then, wouldn't he? Or not, considering, well, you know, he's dead. I don't-"

You're cut off when you feel a palm cover your lips, and your eyes widen at the contact. Renjun stares at you, unimpressed.

"You," he starts. "Talk too much. You know that?"

With his hand still over your mouth, you're unable to reply— even if it wasn't, you doubt you could, anyway. His skin against yours brings a warmth to your neck and cheeks, and you could only hope he couldn't see how bright red you're sure you are.

You nod your head slowly.

Renjun scoffs, finally dropping his hand as he glances to the window behind you. If you weren't already staring at him so intently, you would've missed the slight upturn of his lips. "Wow. So not only am I terrified of the storm, I'm short, too?" He shakes his head, half-amused.

"Hey, you said it, not me!" You exclaim defensively, feeling much more relieved now that you've seen him smile. You wonder if he's aware of how pretty his smile is. "Though for the record, I think you're the perfect height!" You pause, "f-for dodging lightning, of course!"

Renjun didn't like how the first half of your sentence made his heart beat faster. If only he were any closer, he'd hear your heart beating just as fast, too.

"You kids hang on tight, alright? There are blankets in the break room if you need them— and keep me updated!"

You've been in contact with your boss since the lockdown announcement hours ago, and despite your last message telling him that you and Renjun are alright, it seems that it's just in Johnny's nature to be overly-concerned as his worried face now flashes on your screen.

"We're alright, Boss, we promise!" You say for the umpteenth time. "This shop's stable enough to withstand a strike or two I'm sure, so we'll see you tomorrow morning!"

"Don't joke about that," Renjun hisses, nudging your arm with his elbow. He turns to the screen again. "We'll be sure to give you hourly updates."

At this, Johnny seems a little more at ease. You bid your boss goodbye, and the café soon falls into a silence, with only the humming of the lights and distant rumbling in the skies to keep you company.

"So... should we get ready for bed?" You ask, slapping your thighs as you stand up from the couch. For some reason, it feels awkward. You've long grown accustomed to Renjun and his lack of words, but somewhere along the way today, it seems that the air between you two has shifted— for better or for worst, you couldn't really tell— and you're not sure if you could salvage it.

You've always liked Renjun— of course you have— but today, it feels more impossible to contain your feelings with nobody else around. You like to think that you were good at hiding it all this while (despite what Donghyuck says), but right now, you're not so sure if you could spend a second longer with Renjun without accidentally blowing your own cover.

"I'll go grab the blankets," he says quietly, snapping you out of your reverie before ushering away to the break room. You let out a breath you didn't realise you were holding, turning around to face the couch. Surely, your feelings could wait, because right now, there's only one thing that matters more: your sleeping arrangement.

You bend down to grab the couch by the armrest, pulling it further towards the middle of the dining area. With it being originally situated right by the window, you figure it wouldn't make for such an ideal (or safe) makeshift bed.

"What are you doing?"

You huff, returning to your original height to see Renjun by the door of the break room, a bundle of plaid blankets in his hands. He has a brow raised— you notice he does that a lot when looking at you— and you laugh meekly.

"Just, you know. Wouldn't wanna get struck by lightning, or anything like that."

He rolls his eyes (again, something he does a lot when it comes to you) as he makes his way towards you, letting the blankets fall on the sofa. "You can take the couch. Probably should lay one of these out first, though. Not sure how many butts have been on there."

Usually, you would have laughed at his comment, but this time, you find yourself tilting your head in confusion instead. "Where are you gonna sleep?"

Renjun shrugs. "The chair works fine for me."

You frown. Taking one of the blankets, you spread it out before letting the fabric fall over the couch. "The chair? There's no way you'd be comfortable like that! Look, the couch is big enough for the both of us. We'd have to stay seated, of course, but that's better than sleeping in a chair, right? Or would you rather we take turns?"

Renjun scoffs. "What? We're not in an apocalypse. There's no need for night watch."

Still, you stall, and it causes him to sigh. Renjun steps towards you, gently planting his hands on your shoulders before guiding you down onto the sofa. "Gosh, you're stubborn. Just take the couch, alright? It's not like I'm planning on sleeping, anyway."

The last part of his sentence comes out in a low murmur, but you still catch it.

"What do you mean you're not planning on sleeping?" You echo, and based on the flash of panic that crosses his face, you're sure he hadn't mean to let that one slip.

"I mean, with the storm and all," Renjun explains stiffly, glancing away. "I'm just saying, there's no way I'd be able to sleep with all that noise."

You gape slightly before your lips transform into a grin. "Could I interest you in another fun fact, then?"

Renjun groans loudly, and you find yourself giggling at his response. And when you hear the low chuckle that escapes his lips, you find your heart swelling at the sound of his laugh.

"Seriously, let's just share, alright? Look, I'll even stay up with you! I won't talk if you don't want me to, though."

Renjun finally gives in, sitting at the other end of the couch. "When has that ever stopped you?"

Noting the lack of bite in his voice, you grin. "Touché."

Eventually, the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, and for the first time in a while, you don't feel the need to make conversation. You've never been one to be able to stay quiet for very long; clearly, Renjun is someone who does, and today, you learn that it really isn't all that bad.

Renjun steals a glance towards you, but you have your eyes fixed on the rain outside, a small smile still tugged on your lips. It looks like you're watching a movie, the floor-length windows a giant movie screen, and the flashes of lightning the different scenes bouncing off your features. He must have missed the thunder that comes afterwards, only realising it when you turn to him with that stupid, pretty smile still on your lips.

"Uh," Renjun stutters, having been caught off-guard at the sudden eye contact. He quickly looks away. "You don't have to do this."

You tilt your head. "Do what?"

"Stay up with me. You should get some rest."

You laugh, and Renjun wonders if it's always sounded this beautiful. "Don't be silly! I don't mind. I know you're gonna chide me for saying this, but it's kinda nice. I can't remember the last time I stayed up to watch the rain," you pause before turning to him. "You're probably gonna hate me forever for making you endure both a thunderstorm and my chatter in one night," you say teasingly.

"That's not true," he says quietly, only belatedly hoping that you hadn't heard him. Clearing his throat, Renjun turns to his right where his messenger bag lies, taking out his sketchbook he had haphazardly stuffed inside earlier. He flips it open, feeling your curious eyes on him as he looks for the page he had been working on.

"The rain looks better on paper for me," he explains awkwardly. "You know, since we're on the topic of likes and dislikes."

Renjun feels you scoot towards him, and he hates that he could feel the warmth emitting from your side even despite the blanket that envelops your shoulders.

"That's so pretty," you say in awe as you study the drawing. Despite it being so simple, nothing but a rough sketch of a window pane covered with rain drops, you still find yourself marvelling at the intricacy of it all. You could barely even write a whole essay legibly, yet here Renjun is, crafting a whole masterpiece with nothing but a blue ballpoint pen. "I wish I had an ounce of your talent. You're amazing, Renjun."

Even though he's no stranger to getting compliments for his works, it somehow feels different coming from you. It's probably because of how intimate it is— you and him, cramped on a couch in a barely-lit café with your arm pressing into his side— that's all there is to it, right?

But as he turns to you, taking in the stars that seem to dance in your eyes and the pink hue that dusts your cheeks even in the dark, Renjun starts to wonder if maybe, it's more than that. If maybe, the way his heart is stuttering isn't because of the setting, but you— only you.

With the way Donghyuck's question from earlier still plays in the back of his head like a broken record, Renjun knows that it's the truth.

✦ ✦ ✦

With it being late into the night, the two of you lapse into silence, too tired to keep a conversation going, but still very much awake— as though under an unspoken agreement to not fall asleep.

The rain has reduced significantly and the thunder has lessened, nothing but an occasional low rumble in the distance, but every now and then you'd still feel Renjun tensing from next to you.

“You know, statistically, you’re more likely to get struck by lightning than win the lottery,” you mumble sleepily, barely able to keep your eyes open.

Renjun lets out a soft chuckle. “Comforting,” he replies, though there’s no real edge to his voice. “So, basically, I’m doomed.”

“Not while I’m here,” you say through a yawn. “Consider me your good luck charm.”

Renjun shakes his head, but there’s a softness in his expression now, something warm and unspoken passing between you. The couch creaks slightly as you both shift to get more comfortable. Your cheek brushes slightly against his arm, but Renjun doesn't pull away. In your half-conscious state, you barely feel his arm circle behind you, pulling you closer towards him as he guides your head to rest on his shoulder.

"Then I guess I'd have to keep you around for every storm."

Click.

That's the sound you wake to, the sun that hits your eyelids being the second thing to rouse you from your slumber. You stir, your cheek brushing against something soft that only makes you want to sleep even more, but the sound of suspicious giggling causes you to open your eyes.

Your bleary vision lands on Donghyuck, who's currently standing before you with a cheshire-like grin, his phone in his hands.

"Don't you two look cozy?" He coos, tapping on his screen once more before his phone produces another click.

Finally registering what's happening, you jolt awake, only belatedly realising the oh-so-soft material to be Renjun's clothed chest. You must have fallen asleep on him sometime during the middle of the night, and you can't figure out what's more embarrassing: that, or the fact that Donghyuck has proof of said... intimacy.

"Lee Donghyuck! You better not post that!" You yelp, jumping off the couch to reach for his phone, only to fail as he waves his arm in the air, cackling manically.

Renjun finally stirs at the noise. “What’s going on?” he mumbles groggily, only to frown when he registers what you and Donghyuck are doing.

You whip to turn to Renjun, almost tripping in the process, throwing him an apologetic glance. “N-Nothing! Just- uh, a little misunderstanding!”

Donghyuck lowers his arm, tongue poking out of his lips as he types rapidly on his phone. “Oh, I’m definitely sharing this. Aw, you two are so adorable!”

Renjun groans. "Fuck off, Hyuck, seriously." He stands up, picking up his bag before stuffing all his belongings inside. "Ignore him. Let's go."

You giggle, your own embarrassment seeping away when you realise just how flustered he is. "Renjun, wait-"

"Nope, not waiting," he mutters, the tip of his ears noticeably pink as he slings his bag over his shoulder. "We're leaving before this asshole gets anymore material." He shoots Donghyuck a glare, who only waves a hand mindlessly.

"I may be an asshole, but at least I'm not delusional. Seriously, guys, it's painful watching you pretend like you're not into each other!" He cries dramatically, and Renjun's eyes widen before he forces another warning stare to his friend.

"Thanks for the unsolicited advice, Hyuck," he mutters, hoping his voice didn't waver too much, before quickly grabbing your arm and leading you to the door. "We're leaving."

"Have a good day, lovebirds!" Donghyuck sings, and Renjun flashes him a middle finger with his free hand without turning around.

You couldn't help but to laugh as you let him drag you out to the sidewalk, the cold outside air hitting your skin for the first time since yesterday. It's no longer raining, but the streets are still wet from the overnight storm, and it helps in cooling your own burning cheeks.

Renjun finally releases you when you're a little further away from the café, turning to face you with a sigh. "Sorry 'bout that," he mumbles, his cheek still painted red, and you wonder how it's possible for him to be this cute, grumpiness and all.

"It's okay." You bite your bottom lip to suppress a grin, and Renjun smiles at you weakly.

There's a moment of silence between you two before Renjun clears his throat awkwardly. "He's right, you know?"

"Hm? About what?" You ask, slightly taken aback by his sudden soft tone.

Renjun shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his voice quiet. “About… me being into you. Wait, that came out weird." He stumbles over his words, and you merely beam at him as you give him time to compose himself.

"It's just— I know I haven't been the nicest to you, and I know it may sound crazy, but I had this whole revelation yesterday that I do have feelings for you— and I promise this isn't just a fleeting thing because of the storm— I genuinely think you're really cool."

You don't say anything, only a soft smile playing on your lips, and that causes Renjun to panic.

"I mean, I know I've been a jerk to you, and I know this isn't an excuse, but I just didn't know how to-"

You cut him off by leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, effectively halting his words. His mouth hangs open slightly, eyes wide as he stares at you in disbelief, his face flushing.

When you pull back, you couldn't help but laugh softly at his stunned expression. “You're rambling,” you tease with a playful smile.

He coughs out a small laugh. "Yeah, sorry. Guess I was." The smile stays on his face this time as he meets your eyes. "So... does that mean you're not compelled to the idea of going on a date with me?"

"Nope. Not at all." You rock between your heels and toes, already feeling the excitement bubbling in your chest. You like to think that you're doing a much better job at keeping your composure, but you're sure anyone could see just how bright red you are. "I think I'd really like that, actually."

Renjun's eyebrows raise before his expression eases into one of relief, and for the first time, a large smile graces his lips. You think you might just have a new favourite thing now— one that easily tops the rain.

"Yeah? Good. Because I think I'd really like that, too."

[ma1dita]

BABEEE happy birthday!! (i'm so terribly late i'm so sorry) congrats on 23💖

🐥 so i'm having thoughts right now about luke x reader and physical affection. like maybe one of them being touch starved and always craving the other person's touch and the other person noticing it and doing it more? maybe from platonic (i will go down with best friends to lovers) to romantic, i'm just on this brainrot tonight

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

luke castellan x reader

a/n: back from the klerb but here with a classic 4am post 🥂 but the hangxiety wont let me rest until this is out! ill edit this in the morning... or not 😗

wc: 1.1k

—

It’s hard to miss what you’ve never had.

Luke Castellan was never a touchy guy. Sure, he’ll hold a new camper’s hand during welcome tours (especially the little ones who can barely keep up with his long legs; if they’re lucky they get a piggy back ride), and he won’t shy away from a clap on the back when his strategies for capture the flag bring his team to victory (they always do, mind you), and when he feels like it, he’ll even shove Annabeth playfully to show her he adores her (but she packs a punch now that she’s older).

It never really goes past that, and he’s never had to think too hard about it—physical touch.

He’s the one who takes care of others—a part of his nature like it is for Hermes’ cabin to take in unclaimed demigods. But something changed in the months that he’s gotten closer to you. At first, he’d bite his tongue at the way you’re so open to patting his cheek when he does something funny (which he doesn’t try to make a show of, but now…), how you choose to sit so close to him during bonfires that your knees touch (the Apollo kids could be singing about the heavens falling down on them for all he cares but he zeroes in on every word that leaves your lips), and the way you’d lock your fingers with him for a pinky promise after every little thing ‘to make sure it’s real’ (Luke didn’t understand the merit of a pinky promise over whether you could have his dessert for the next week if you took over arts and crafts with the kiddie campers for him; truthfully he’d give it to you anyway). It was unusual for him to have someone comfort him, to show care without a true reason. But he didn’t realize how much more it bothered him now that you wouldn’t even look him in the eye.

Silena and some of the other Aphrodite children had asked you the very defining question of, “Do you like Luke Castellan?” and having never thought of it that way, or being able to put your feelings for him in words instead of fingers in his belt loops or in the muss of his curls—that shit was terrifying!

You spent all Saturday afternoon at the docks with them belly down under the glare of the sun’s rays as they explained to you what the five love languages are. By the end of it, sunburn wasn’t the only reason you felt hot.

“Your love language is physical touch,” one of Silena’s older half-siblings—Connelly, says like he’s explaining that the sky is blue, “And Luke’s not that type of guy! Think he’s more acts of service…”

“Ooh, or words of affirmation….” another one of them muses, but the sound of your heartbeat tunes it all out. Well shit, have you been sending him the wrong signals? Or are there even any signals you want to send him? 

Nevertheless, in the matters of love or even the tiniest whisper of it—maybe there’s no one else you can trust with this stuff besides Cabin 10.

Wrong.

Absolutely wrong. Whatever the hell you’ve been convinced or whatever’s changed since last weekend—Luke just knows he hates it, and he’s angry. He’s angry at how you gasp in surprise every time you brush shoulders during archery practice when you used to let him fix your form, he’s angry at how you’ll squeeze campers’ shoulders to tell them they’re doing a good job carrying the strawberry crates—and all he gets is a mumbled ‘Thanks, Castellan’ when he stacks them up and takes your load.

Luke’s so terribly angry that Travis told him he’s been walking around like a big strawberry, face red and irritated—but not at you. 

He realizes he’s also angry at the fact that he can’t protect you from the onslaught of a rain cloud—or maybe it was the fact that you’re so okay with the rain touching your skin and seeping through your orange shirt like he wishes you’d let him. He’s angry at the way the wind blows your hair into your face and your fingers brush the strands away like he wishes he can. Most of all, Luke Castellan is angry that he didn’t know how good a simple touch could be until he lost it—before he even really got to appreciate yours.

You’re sitting on the opposite end of the row in the amphitheater laughing with your friends and the furrow in his thick brow is a tell-tale sign of his discomfort. Luke doesn’t dare to remember what it’s like before you to be honest—he’d rather give up Elysium instead of having you ignore him like this. He calls your name, a tinge of both anger and desperation until you look over at him, eyelashes kissing your cheeks. The hold you have on him transcends the physical touch of your fingers but he wants, no—needs you next to him.

“C’mere! Why are you so far away?”

Luke hopes it doesn’t sound pathetic, but a crooked grin splits across his face as soon as you make your way over, sitting down and crossing your legs away from him. It’s still too far, even if he can feel your breath on his shoulder.

“Did I do something to make you angry? I…” The words escape his mouth in a jumble—quick wit from his father escaping him, though he knows not to rely on that asshole, god or not. You mutter words that almost escape him too, and he leans in, chasing your hands and putting them in his own until they’re gentle and soft in his lap.

“No, no…. I just… don’t want to push your boundaries. I know you don’t like it when I’m too touchy,” and he thinks his heart clenches a little like how you’re squeezing his hands. Luke shouldn’t feel instant gratification from a subconscious action. He wants to know you mean it with him—that’s what he can’t put into words.

“I….like it when you do.”

You notice the way his fingers tangle tighter with yours, pinkys interlocking with yours. When he lets go, Luke wraps his arm around your shoulders until you’re able to laugh in the crook of his neck. He chooses to place a kiss on the corner of your mouth when your head sways to face him at the silly tune about centaurs and then you realize that Luke loves the way you love him. You wonder if he accidentally missed meeting your lips, but then the noise in your head quiets down when he pulls you closer, lips locking tenderly, intentionally—as they were always meant to.

You both hear a giggle that sounds a lot like tinkling bells belonging to children of Aphrodite. 

For once they were wrong about love. 

Luke’s tongue parts through your lips and meets your own like they’re in a long awaited embrace, dancing and devouring you from the inside out but this, you— are what he can rely on. This, your touch, and how he chooses to let it consume him, never letting go.

[liveyun]

EYES LIKE STARS | j.jk (teaser)

banner by the amazing @itaeewon 🩵

summary. “He was everything you were not. He was perfect—too perfect. Always kind, always excelling, always loved by everyone, even your own parents, like a reminder of everything you weren’t. And you hated this. You hated him. You hated the way he always included you, the way he tried to help, as if you ever needed his pity. He was always there, almost like a shadow you could never escape.

Returning to the town that holds both your earliest memories and silent secrets, you’re forced to confront not only the unsolved knots you’d left behind all those years ago, but the boy who was always at the center of your pain. Whose eyes have always seen right through you : Jungkook.”

title. Eyes like Stars

pairing. Jeon Jungkook x afab reader/oc

rating. M (18+)

genre. e2f2e2L (you get it), angst, drama, romance, boy next door sorta situation, emotional baggage, eventual smut

warnings (for this teaser). emotional trauma, toxic parenting, negligence by parents, memories 🫠

word count. 1.4k

series masterlist | taglist | main masterlist | next →

Home smelled like old arguments and unspoken words.

It felt funny— really, how you expected your hometown to be abuzz with lights and joy because you were back in the town. Or, maybe because you’d expected it to change drastically, but much to your surprise— or disappointment, one would say, nothing really had. Everything seemed just as it was as compared to what your memory had told you, though, you were once again not very sure of what exactly you wanted to be changed.

Sure, there were some slight differences you could spot here and there as the Sedan sped through the dull, foggy afternoon street, making each and every detail seem like a blurry haze as you passed every shop, every lane. You wanted to stop and take a look around at things better, but however, you did know that you yourself had paid for this cab and it’s not going to stop until it reaches the destination.

Your home.

Or rather, your house.

The scent of rain-soaked earth mixed with the fragrance of jasmine blooming in the distance did pull a smile on your lips as you remember that jasmine was a speciality of your little town— as how you used to make little garlands from the withered flowers you’d found fallen on the pavements nearby your house.

You roll down the window of your seat, wanting to sniff the fresh air after hours of breathing recycled air in your eight hour long flight. A gust of wind greets you directly on your cheeks, feeling a chill run down your spine at the intensity.

You couldn’t lie, you’d missed this feeling. No matter how much you’d try to deny it, it did smell like older times when you used to enjoy the smell of wet earth after a drizzle, or the smell of seasonal flowers mingling with the damp air.

It somehow felt a bit unsettling how the wind that blew felt rather unwelcoming. You tried inhaling deeply, thinking it’s just your mind playing with you once again, but each time, the wind just felt like it burnt you, ironically being as cold as a winter morning breeze. It felt like a forced embrace, like somewhere you don’t belong to, but are trying your hardest to mingle in.

Wrong place.

You close your eyes, allowing yourself a moment to breathe, to remember.

You tried to remember good things. Things which would put a smile on your face, things which would put aside the bubbling anxiety in your belly away for a while. You sat back in the seat, trying out a few breathing exercises, but they do not really help.

Instead, you remember the echoes of their fights, the way each yell after yell rose from the ashes of fury and threatened to touch the ceiling.

“I told you this wouldn’t work out!”

And there used to come a reply, a sharp retort.

“Did you even believe in us to begin with?”

Instead, you remember how your poor heart felt like bursting out of your chest during these arguments between your parents.

“A child will fix everything,” was what they’d said, but all it did was tear their lives apart. . . alongside yours, which you believe they weren't really aware of. It did everything which turned you to a by-product of their expectations woven with their own aspirations, leaving you to bear the weight of their shattered dreams and unspoken grudges.

Was it ever your fault?

You don’t know.

You remember how scared you used to be. Clutching that old, dusty plushie which you vividly remember, smelled of nothing in particular, your small body used to tremble with sobs, wishing it would all stop. You could not really do anything, say anything, for whatever you said was churned into something you didn’t like.

“Mom.. d-dad, please, stop fighting..”

You remember those pairs of eyes who stared back at you. Specifically a pair of bloodshot, teary eyes who looked at you with an anger perhaps no word can describe. Her bottom lip used to quiver like a dried leaf on a windy day, her face flushed with fury.

“You. . . you . . . ! Why can't you be more like him?”

The car came to a stop, jerking you back to the present. You stay there, frozen, unable to do anything except breathe, until you hear the driver calling you out. You take another huff of air inside you, gripping the handle to steel yourself for what lay

You step out of the Sedan, having thanked the kind driver to help you out with your luggage. The smell of the rain-soaked earth immediately filled your lungs, grounding you firmly to place.

Returning to the place where you grew up, where every street, every corner seemed to whisper something akin to mockery, was more daunting than you’d anticipated. The familiar sights and sounds of your hometown were both comforting and suffocating, although now you’d say it was more on the latter side.

A part of you, small and foolish, had almost hoped that the old house would be as you’d left it—doors flung open, the smell of your mother’s cooking wafting through the air, laundry spread out in the wires to dry, and your father’s booming voice echoing from the living room. You’d even imagined them standing on the porch, waiting with that old enthusiasm, eager to welcome you back as if nothing had ever happened.

But reality was far from those faint, lingering hopes.

Your eyes trailed over the familiar, weathered facade of the house, now so empty, so silent. You wondered if your parents really lived there anymore, because the eerie silence that knocked your heart was more than scary to admit that you really had lost touch with your parents. Yet, it felt like the echoes of the past were still trapped within those walls. How you’d left it behind. The front fence was just how you’d remembered it to be, old and worn out. You were right, nothing really had changed.

It felt like you were standing in front of a deep, hollow void, where you’re expecting some sort of miracle to happen, but alas.

You’d wish.

Feeling your chest tighten, your heels almost take you back— you almost turned to leave, feeling way too anxious and shitty to take a step forward. Your hand was tightening around the handle of your suitcase, but something held you back. A memory, unbidden, flashed through your mind.

It was those eyes—those damn eyes which shone like buttered chocolate. Always watching, always understanding. They weren’t just any eyes; they had a way of catching the light, glimmering with an intensity that made you feel seen, truly seen, in a way that was both comforting and terrifying. You could never hide from those eyes, no matter how hard you tried to.

They had followed you everywhere, lingering on you with a softness that made your defenses crumble, even when you didn’t want them to. There was something about the way they would crinkle at the corners when he smiled, how they darkened with concern whenever you turned away too quickly. They held a sparkle, a depth you couldn’t fathom, a warmth that burned you with its sincerity, and a quiet strength that made you want to trust him—except you never could, even if you’d tried. Or wanted to.

You remembered how they looked at you, full of questions you never wanted to answer. With kindness that you never thought you deserved. The way they bore into you, as if searching for something you weren’t ready to give, always made you feel naked— exposed, vulnerable, in a way you couldn’t explain.

You shook your head, pushing the memory away, but it clung to you like a shadow, which is always there with you, struck with you. The last time you saw him, his eyes glimmered with just a silent understanding that had way cut deeper than any argument ever had. His eyes had said everything you didn’t want to hear, everything you were too afraid to acknowledge.

You didn’t want to acknowledge, anyway. You didn’t want to acknowledge him, nor his kindness, nor his sincerity.

You wonder, briefly, if he still remembers you. If he ever knew how much of a pivot he was in your life, then maybe, maybe, some of his answers he held could’ve been answered.

The wind blew again, cold and sharp, almost as if pulling you back to the present. You sighed, letting go of the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and took a step forward.

There was no going back now.

a/n : hello there! if you’ve read it till this far, thank you for reading <3 i’ve written something after a very long time of having a terrible writing block since ages. if you liked this teaser and are exicted to read more, please let me know through your feedback 😞 they’d mean the world to me. 💜

just in case if you want to give me an anonymous feedback, you can do that here! 🌹

[st4rlvr]

Forced together || KSM

There was nothing more infuriating than Kim Seungmin’s voice.

It was the way he always had something to say, dripping with sarcasm, every word calculated to get under my skin. He didn’t even have to try hard. All it took was that little smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, like he knew exactly how much I despised him, and it fueled him even more.

And unfortunately, he was everywhere.

In class, he was the one who always had the answer to the teacher’s question before anyone else could. During group projects, he was the one who refused to compromise, arguing with me until I wanted to scream. And now, to make matters worse, he was assigned as my partner for the dreaded school charity event.

“How unlucky can I get?” I muttered as I stared at the assignment sheet taped to the classroom wall.

“You mean lucky,” Seungmin’s voice chimed in behind me. “You get to work with me. I’m practically the backbone of this event.”

I turned to glare at him, my jaw tightening. “More like the thorn in its side.”

His smirk widened. “Nice one, Y/N. Did you rehearse that in the mirror this morning?”

I took a deep breath, reminding myself that starting a public argument wasn’t worth it. “Just stay out of my way,” I snapped, brushing past him.

“Not likely,” he called after me, his tone light and teasing.

Forced proximity, as it turned out, really was a writer’s favorite tool. For the next few weeks, Seungmin and I were glued at the hip, planning decorations, organizing volunteers, and managing donations. Every little interaction felt like a battle.

“Those posters are awful,” Seungmin said, leaning over my shoulder as I sketched out a design.

I turned to glare at him, clutching my marker like a weapon. “They’re fine.”

“They’re boring.”

“They’re professional.”

“They’re basic.”

“They’re effective,” I countered, gritting my teeth.

He leaned back, crossing his arms as he studied my work. “Fine. If you want the charity to look like it was organized by an accounting firm, go ahead.”

I wanted to throw the marker at him. Instead, I handed it to him. “If you’re so great, why don’t you show me your brilliant ideas?”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow but took the marker, crouching down to the poster. His hand moved quickly, sketching out bold, dynamic lines. I hated to admit it, but the design was… good.

“See?” he said smugly, stepping back. “I told you. Artistic genius.”

“More like annoying perfectionist,” I muttered, but I left the design as it was.

Despite how much we fought, we occasionally found ourselves in sync. One day, as we set up the donation booth, Seungmin handed me a stack of flyers without me asking. Another day, I caught him fixing the garland I’d hung when it started to sag.

It was a rhythm neither of us acknowledged out loud, but I could feel it. The banter turned into something less heated, almost playful.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said one afternoon as we stuffed envelopes.

“What?” I replied warily, glancing at him.

He smirked, holding up one of the letters. “You spelled ‘donation’ wrong. Twice.”

I snatched the envelope out of his hand, heat rushing to my cheeks. “I did not.”

“You did,” he insisted, laughing. “Don’t worry. I fixed it. You’re welcome.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.

It wasn’t until the night of the event that everything changed.

The gymnasium was packed with people, the decorations twinkling under the soft lights. I stood by the punch table, surveying the crowd and feeling an odd sense of pride. Everything had come together perfectly.

“You’re staring like you just won an award,” Seungmin’s voice came from beside me.

I turned to him, startled. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be off bragging to someone about how great this all looks.”

He shrugged, his expression unusually serious. “Maybe I just wanted to see how you were holding up.”

I blinked at him, caught off guard. “I’m… fine. Why?”

“You’ve been running yourself ragged for weeks,” he said, his gaze steady. “You should take a break.”

The sincerity in his voice threw me completely off balance. “Are you… being nice to me?”

“Don’t get used to it,” he said with a small smirk, but there was something softer in his eyes.

Before I could respond, someone called his name, and he walked away, leaving me standing there, my heart inexplicably pounding.

The next day, Seungmin was back to his usual self—teasing, sarcastic, and insufferable. But I couldn’t shake the memory of the way he’d looked at me during the event, the way his voice had softened just slightly.

It wasn’t until we were packing up the leftover supplies that I finally confronted him.

“Why do you do it?” I asked, crossing my arms as I stood in front of him.

“Do what?” he replied, not looking up from the box he was taping shut.

“Push my buttons. Constantly.”

He paused, his hands stilling. Then he straightened, meeting my gaze. “Maybe because I like seeing how much fight you’ve got in you.”

I stared at him, caught completely off guard. “What?”

Seungmin stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “You’re not like everyone else. You don’t just roll over and let people tell you what to do. You challenge me. And, as much as I hate to admit it…” He hesitated, his voice dropping slightly. “I kind of like it.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Are you… complimenting me?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head. “You’re impossible, Kim Seungmin.”

“And yet, here you are,” he replied, his tone light but his gaze steady.

I didn’t have an answer to that.

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as insufferable as I thought.

And so, the lines between love and hate blurred, leaving us in a place neither of us could quite define. But one thing was certain: life was a lot less boring with Seungmin around.

[sanshinely]

CRAZY MINDS OF MBTI | ATEEZ CHOI SAN

CRAZY MINDS (OF MBTI)

ateez choi san x fem!reader

trope » mbti theme, san as intj and reader as estp. 

established relationship fic, non-idol fic 

genre » fluff, romantic comedy, slice of life, modern au, light angst

word count;  5,126 words estimated reading time » ~20-25  minutes (normal reading speed)

warnings » mild language, suggestive dialogue, MBTI stereotyping, light emotional conflict

Sometimes, one test can change everything.

You were bored when you first took the MBTI test. No deep purpose behind it, just a click out of curiosity during a quiet afternoon. A few questions here, a few unsure choices there, and suddenly... there it was.

ESTP.

You blinked at the screen.

The Entrepreneur. The Doer. Bold. Direct. Energetic. Lives for the thrill of the moment.

That last part? Yeah, that felt painfully accurate. But something about it pulled you in deeper. You weren’t just content with the four letters—you wanted to know why. Why did you make impulsive choices? Why you hated routines. Why do you always run toward chaos instead of away from it?

And the deeper you explored the ESTP personality, the more it felt like finding pieces of yourself you didn’t even know were missing.

That small test? It sparked something way bigger.

A few years later, you're no longer just a girl curious about personality types. You're the founder and CEO of 16Personalities, a personality-based app and consulting platform that skyrocketed in popularity almost overnight. People came for the MBTI quizzes, but stayed for the insights. For the way your team broke down complex ideas and turned them into something deeply human. Even your best friend—an INFJ with a chronic case of emotional repression—gave in and took the test one night after a glass of wine. She burst into your office the next morning, waving her phone. “I’m an INFJ?! What the hell does that even mean?!”

Your friend finally tested her MBTI by the app you made. She wasn’t interested at all in the first because she won’t believe in MBTI as she said MBTIs were the same theory as Zodiacs. Your best friend finally took her chance to test on her MBTI, INFJ as the Advocats.

You laughed. "INFJ, huh?" you said, trying to hold back a laugh. "Well, it means you're kind of like... a walking contradiction."

She rolled her eyes, but you could see the flicker of curiosity in her eyes.

"You're a visionary, but also super private. You want to save the world but can’t stand the idea of asking for help. You care deeply about people, but you don’t exactly enjoy big crowds. You’re an idealist, but also someone who struggles with reality. You’re probably freaking out right now, but deep down, you’re a big softie."

She gaped at you, clearly shocked at how accurate that sounded. "That... sounds like me. That’s terrifying."

You laughed. "Yeah, I know. Welcome to the INFJ club. You cry over poetry, right? You want to change the world, but you'll never ask anyone for help." You shook your head. "Honestly, you might as well get a tattoo that says 'emotional repression' and call it a day."

She stared at you in disbelief. "Wait... am I really that bad?"

"No, no," you quickly reassured her. "But you’ve definitely got some layers, INFJ. You’re like... the emotional intellectual who tries to save the world one quiet conversation at a time."

Her lips twitched into a reluctant smile, her anxiety momentarily forgotten. "I guess that’s... kind of accurate." "Kind of?" You grinned, reaching for your coffee. "Girl, you're all of that. Just embrace it." She sighed, staring at her phone again. "Well, now that I know, I feel like I need to do... something about it." You nodded. "Start by not overthinking it. Trust me, I know. I'm an ESTP. You don’t see me freaking out over who I am."

She raised an eyebrow. "Right, you're the impulsive risk-taker, always up for the next adventure. I swear, you’re basically the opposite of me." You shot her a pointed look. "And you love me for it." She smirked. "True. But now I need to process this INFJ thing. I feel like I’m staring at myself in a mirror and I don’t know what to do with it."

You leaned back in your chair, feeling the weight of her words. "You’ll figure it out. Just don't hide from it, okay? Embrace the weirdness."

She smiled at you, finally feeling like the pieces were coming together. "Thanks for... the reality check."

"Anytime, INFJ," you teased. "Now go ahead and start saving the world, one awkward conversation at a time."

—

It was supposed to be just another normal workday. You were halfway through reviewing the updates for the app when your phone lit up.

[Bestie] “Emergency. Can you take my blind date tonight? I’m literally dying and there’s no refund..”

You blinked. Blind date? You?

You were about to text back a hard “absolutely not” when she sent a second message:

“He’s a psychiatrist. Probably hot. Just go and pretend to be me. Pleaseeeee.”

You stared at the screen. ESTP logic said: screw it. You could use some entertainment.

So you sighed and replied: You : “Fine. But if he’s awkward, I’m making you pay for dessert.”

—

Your best friend stared at you, her jaw practically on the floor. “Wait... you’ve never been on a blind date? Never dated anyone? How have you survived this long? The world is so small, and you’ve been hiding out like this?”You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. 

“I mean, it’s just never been my thing, y’know?” She gawked at you like you had just revealed you were an alien. “Girl, you’re an entrepreneur who’s running a huge app, but you’ve never even tried to date? That’s... mind-blowing.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s really not that deep.” “Oh, it is,” she said, pulling out her makeup kit with determination. “And it’s time to fix this. You need to look flawless tonight. Trust me, we’re going all out.”

You groaned. “Do we really have to? I just don’t think I’m ready for all of this.”

She grinned, already pulling out brushes. “You are ready. You just don’t know it yet. We’re going to give you a makeover that’ll make you look like you belong in a rom-com. Now sit down and let me work my magic.”

As she got to work, you felt a little bit out of your element. “How long is this going to take?”

“Don’t rush me,” she said, expertly applying foundation. “You want flawless? It takes time. At least an hour. You’ll thank me later, I promise.” You gave her a skeptical look. “Flawless, huh? You’re really setting the bar high here.”

“You’ll see,” she replied with a wink. “Just trust the process.”

Your Best friend stood still for a moment, her eyes slowly scanning you from head to toe. “You… wow,” she breathed out, visibly stunned. “You actually look stunning. Like, it’s so fabulous. Look at yourself, why’d you never really be interested in makeovers?”

You raised an eyebrow, tugging nervously at the hem of your jacket. “You think so?”

“Please, I don’t think—I know,” she said, beginning to circle you like a proud stylist inspecting her masterpiece. “Honestly, if you don’t fall in love tonight, someone else definitely will.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “I still can’t believe I’m actually doing this. This was your blind date, remember?”

“Yeah, about that…” she trailed off, biting her lip before locking eyes with you. “So… I kinda already told him I couldn’t make it. Said something came up. And then I—uh—might’ve mentioned I was sending someone else to my place.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You what?”

“I panicked, okay?” she held up both hands in surrender. “But don’t worry—I told him you’re amazing. And guess what? He was surprisingly chill about it.” You gave her a look. “Okay… and what exactly did you tell him about me?”

“Just the basics,” she shrugged, trying to look casual. “That you’re smart, drop-dead gorgeous, a little chaotic—but in the cutest way possible. Oh, and—” she paused for effect, “his name is Choi San.”

You stared. “Choi San?” She nodded. “Yep. And—plot twist—he’s a psychologist.” Your eyes widened. “So you set me up with someone who literally studies people’s minds for a living. Amazing. I’m about to be dissected over dinner, that’s literally my type.”

“Or,” she said, grinning knowingly, “he’s about to fall for you the moment he sees you.”You let out a dramatic sigh and grabbed your purse. “If he starts psychoanalyzing me mid-bite, I’m leaving.”

She laughed, stepping over to open the door. “Just be yourself. You’ve got this. And remember—tonight, you’re the main event.”

You rolled your eyes as you stepped out. “Let’s hope he reads romance, not horror.”

—

You walked into the cozy, upscale restaurant, your heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and nerves. The soft clinking of silverware and the warm golden glow from the overhead lights created a calm atmosphere, but your attention was focused solely on the man seated across the table.

Choi San looked up as you approached, a faint smile on his lips. He was dressed in a sharp navy blazer and a simple white shirt that complemented his relaxed yet sophisticated demeanor. He stood up as you neared, offering a nod of acknowledgment.

“Hi,” he greeted, his voice calm and smooth, as if you were already familiar. “You must be Y/N L/N?”

Your eyes met his, and you nodded, taking in a breath to steady yourself. "Yeah, that’s me," you said, your voice a little shaky as you pulled out the chair and sat down. "I guess I’m the one who got... dragged into this blind date."

San smiled, the kind of smile that made your heart skip a beat. “No pressure then,” he said, his gaze soft but confident as he sat back down. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N. My name is Choi San”

They shake their both hands, and make you freeze. You weren't expecting that THIS is the man on your date. Previously, you didn’t expect that he could be this really handsome through your eyes

You adjusted the hem of your jacket, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest. There was something about the way he looked at you that made you feel like you were already on his radar. 

“So, uh…” you started, trying to break the silence, “What exactly do you do for a living? Besides... setting up blind dates?” you added with a nervous laugh. San put down his menu, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’m a psychologist,” he said casually, his tone thoughtful. “I work in mental health.”

Your eyes widened, and before you could stop yourself, you gasped loudly, the sound escaping in a rush. “Wait, you’re a psychologist?!” The shock was evident in your voice, and you quickly realized you might have startled him. San blinked, clearly surprised by your reaction.

 “Yeah... I know, it’s a bit of a shock, huh?” You covered your mouth, feeling a little embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to shout. It’s just that... I’ve never met anyone in that field before. Isn’t that kind of intimidating?”

San chuckled softly, clearly amused by your reaction. “I promise, I’m not here to analyze you on our date,” he said, his tone warm and reassuring. You relaxed a little at his words, but your curiosity wasn’t satisfied yet. “Still, I can’t imagine what it must be like. You get to read people all day, every day.”

He leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. “It’s not about reading people; it’s about understanding them,” he said, his gaze shifting to you with a more personal intensity. “But don’t worry, I’m not analyzing you right now.”

You laughed, relieved. “Good to know,” you said with a smile, but your mind couldn’t help but race with the realization that you were sitting across from someone who literally analyzed people for a living. “So, what about you?” he asked, breaking your train of thought. “What do you do?”

You cleared your throat, then replied, “I’m actually the founder and owner of 16Personalities. The site you probably took the test on,” you added with a small smile.

San’s eyes lit up, and a genuine smile tugged at his lips. “Wait, really? I’ve taken that test on your app! It’s actually really fascinating,” he said, leaning forward with newfound interest. “I had no idea you were the person behind it.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the way he was looking at you. A proud smile made you glad because he used your app. “Yeah, it’s one of those things that’s more well-known than most people realize,” you replied, feeling a little more confident now that the conversation was flowing easier.

San grinned, clearly impressed. “I have to admit, I’m even more intrigued now. That’s... seriously impressive.” You laughed softly, trying to hide your smile. “Thanks,” you said, feeling a warm flush spread across your cheeks.

He paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he was thinking. “I don’t know if I should tell you my personality type now. Maybe I’ll leave that as a surprise,” he said, the playful tone in his voice making your heart skip another beat.

You grinned, intrigued. “I like surprises, but I have to warn you... I might guess it before the night’s over.” San chuckled softly. “We’ll see about that,” he said with a wink. “But for now, I think we should enjoy our dinner.”

The waiter arrived at that moment, and for a moment, the two of you paused as your meals were served. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling the conversation shift from nerves to something more comfortable, even with the soft tension still lingering between you.

—

The candlelight flickered between you and Choi San, casting playful shadows as the conversation slowed, leaving behind a quiet tension. The soft background music hummed, almost like a soundtrack to the unfolding moment. You couldn’t help but feel curious about the man across from you—so composed, so intriguing.

"So..." you began, swirling your wine glass lightly, keeping your voice playful, "I have to ask, what’s your MBTI type?" San raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Why do you want to know?" You shrugged, leaning back slightly with a smirk. "I’m just curious. I mean, you already know about my job, so I think it’s only fair. And also you tested on my app, right?"

"Fair enough," he said, leaning forward slightly, a playful twinkle in his eyes. "I’m INTJ."

"INTJ?" You blinked, surprised, trying to hide your amusement. "The mastermind type?" San chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the moment. "I suppose that's one way to put it." You tilted your head, eyeing him closely. "Well, no wonder you’re so... organized. So, you’re all about planning, analyzing everything, huh?" 

San leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with an almost stoic air. "That's one way to describe it. What about you?" He paused, raising an eyebrow. "What’s your type?" You leaned forward a little, eyes gleaming with confidence. "ESTP," you said, gesturing with a quick flick of your hand. "The doer, the one who takes action and makes things happen."

San raised both eyebrows, studying you closely, clearly surprised. "Interesting," he murmured, his gaze intense. "So you’re the spontaneous one, huh?" "Yep," you nodded, your eyes sparkling with energy. "I live for the moment, take risks, and embrace whatever comes my way."

San’s expression softened a little, but there was something in his eyes that seemed to admire your extroverted energy. "Well," he said, his voice low, "I think that’s kind of... refreshing. Most people are too cautious for my taste." 

Your eyes widened slightly. "You like that?" He chuckled, the hint of a flirtatious smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I wouldn’t call it my style, but... there’s something about how you embrace it. It’s bold."

The conversation paused for a second, both of you caught up in the unexpected chemistry of the moment. But then, the realization hit you. "Wait a second..." You leaned back in your chair, blinking in disbelief. "We’re total opposites!" San gave you a half-smile. "Guess we are. But apparently, opposites attract." You laughed softly, your heart skipping a beat. "I guess we’ll see about that."

His smile softened, but his gaze remained intense as he leaned in just a little closer. "I’m looking forward to finding out." You both sat in silence for a moment, the words hanging in the air, the connection between you undeniable. Then, you decided to push the conversation further, eager to see what else there was to learn about this intriguing man.

"So," you said, pulling out your phone, "let’s take a look at our profiles. I’m curious how accurate these tests are." San raised an eyebrow as you unlocked the 16personalities app and began to scroll through your results. "Alright, let’s see."

You grinned, showing him your profile. "Here it says I’m outgoing, energetic, and spontaneous—basically, I love taking action and always need something new to challenge me." San leaned in slightly to look at the screen, his curiosity growing. "Sounds pretty spot on," he said, eyes never leaving you. "And the weaknesses?"

You tapped the screen again, showing the weaknesses. "It says I can be a little... reckless. And sometimes, I don’t think things through." San’s lips curled into a playful smirk. "Yeah, I can see that. But I think that’s part of your charm."

You felt your cheeks flush a little at his compliment, but you didn’t back down. Instead, you leaned back with a confident grin. "Okay, so what about you?" You tapped the screen to show him his profile. "Let’s see what the mastermind has."

San took his time scrolling, then cleared his throat. "Alright, here’s the rundown: 'Strategic, logical, ambitious, and driven.'" You raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you’re the definition of control." San’s expression softened as he continued reading aloud. "And... ‘can be overly critical, distant, and too focused on long-term goals at the expense of the present.’"

You couldn’t help but chuckle. "Well, I guess I’m glad I’m here for the present, huh?" San’s smile deepened, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Touché." The conversation grew more relaxed as the night went on, both of you enjoying the chance to learn more about each other. But now, with the realization that your MBTI types were the exact opposite, there was a new, unexpected energy between you two.

"So," you said, your eyes twinkling, "I read somewhere that ESTPs and INTJs make a pretty good match." San raised his eyebrows, intrigued. "Really?" You nodded. "Yep, apparently. You bring the structure and the logic, I bring the chaos and the energy." San chuckled, his gaze warming. "I wouldn’t exactly call it chaos... but I think I can appreciate the spontaneity."

You smiled, feeling a little flutter in your chest. "Well, let’s see where this goes, then."

The evening continued, filled with laughter and easy conversation, but now, there was a deeper undercurrent to everything. The differences between you and San only seemed to make the connection stronger, and you couldn’t help but wonder what the rest of the night—and the future—held in store.

—

The night seemed to slow down just enough for the two of you to dive deeper into the unexpected connection unfolding between you. The conversation had shifted from light banter to something more... meaningful. The flickering candle between you cast a soft glow over the table as you both took a moment to soak in the revelation of your MBTI types.

As you put your phone away for a second, you tilted your head slightly, your curiosity growing. "You know," you said, eyeing San carefully, "I just realized something. I never pegged you as an introvert."

San blinked, a little surprised by your observation. He shifted in his seat, his gaze a little more intense than before. "I suppose that’s not something people expect," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You laughed softly, taking a sip from your glass, trying to make sense of it all. "I mean, look at you—so composed, so calm. I thought you’d be... more extroverted."

San smirked, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. "I might not be the life of the party, but I’m not as shy as you think." He paused, his expression thoughtful. "It’s just that I find more energy in my own thoughts than in big social gatherings." Your eyes widened slightly, realizing just how much you had misjudged him. "So, you’re like... an introvert who’s good at faking extroversion?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn’t call it ‘faking.’ I just know how to interact when I need to. But I much prefer quiet time to think things through." You chuckled, now more intrigued than ever. "Well, that’s... a twist. I think you’re an ambivert, just like me.” San smiled  softly, his gaze locking with yours. "Maybe we balance each other out better than I thought."

The revelation lingered between you, but before either of you could say anything more, you decided to dig deeper into the personality profiles on your phones. "Alright, enough of the guessing," you said, unlocking your phone again. "Let’s see what else our profiles have to say. I’m curious if it says anything about us."

San leaned forward slightly, his eyes scanning the screen as you scrolled through your ESTP profile once again. "Alright, let’s see what the fun-loving, action-driven ESTP is all about," he teased, his tone light but his curiosity evident.

You tapped a few times, bringing up a section of your profile. "Okay, here’s something interesting," you said, showing him. "It says I’m highly adaptable, which means I’m good at changing plans on a whim and handling surprises."

San nodded, clearly intrigued. "That makes sense. You’re definitely the type to keep things spontaneous."

You smiled, enjoying the easy rhythm between you. "Yeah, and it also says that I’m a risk-taker. Sometimes, I act before I think—definitely not for everyone."

San chuckled softly, leaning back in his seat. "I can see that. But it’s also what makes you... well, you."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t help but feel a little more drawn to him. But you quickly turned the attention back to him. "Alright, your turn. What does it say for an INTJ mastermind?"

He smirked, tapping on his phone as he pulled up his profile. "Let’s see," he muttered, scanning through the sections. "Okay, it says I’m strategic, logical, and have a very clear idea of what I want."

You nodded, impressed. "I can see that. You definitely give off that vibe."

San's gaze softened a little as he continued. "It also mentions that I can sometimes be too focused on long-term goals. That I tend to dismiss the present for the sake of future plans."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Does that mean you’re not a fan of... living in the moment?"

He looked up at you, a brief flicker of a smile crossing his face. "Not necessarily. I just tend to look ahead more often than most. But maybe you could change that." His tone was light but carried a certain weight to it that made your heart flutter a little.

You laughed, leaning in slightly, trying to cover the warmth spreading across your cheeks. "Guess we’ll see about that."

San's eyes lingered on yours for a moment longer, and the air between you grew charged. There was something magnetic about the way he looked at you, something you hadn’t expected from someone who’d described himself as an introvert.

"So," you said after a beat, trying to shift the mood, "what’s your take on this whole ESTP-INTJ pairing? Because, let’s face it, we are nothing alike."

San smirked, leaning back in his chair, but his eyes never left you. "Maybe we’re not alike in the conventional sense. But I don’t think that means we can’t complement each other."

You blinked, your thoughts momentarily scattered. "You really think so?"

He nodded, his smirk deepening into something a little more sincere. "I do. I think our differences could be... a good thing."

You stared at him, surprised by his honesty—and how quickly it seemed to spark something in you. The conversation had shifted from playful to something with real depth, and you couldn’t deny that you were starting to enjoy this unexpected connection more than you anticipated.

"So, we’re opposites in all the right ways?" you said, your voice softer now.

San’s gaze softened as he gave a slow nod. "Exactly. And I’m starting to think that’s a good thing."

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest that you couldn’t quite explain. The night was far from over, but in this moment, you knew one thing for sure: this blind date was turning into something far more interesting than either of you had expected.

"Guess we’ll just have to see where this goes," you said, your voice a little lighter now, and he nodded, his eyes still on you, his smile a little more genuine than before.

And as the conversation continued, you couldn’t help but feel like you were on the edge of something new—something that might just be worth exploring.

—

An hour had passed since they started their date. San had called the waiter over and casually ordered drinks for them. “Maybe it’s time for another drink,” San said with a playful grin, glancing at you. You raised your eyebrows, a bit surprised at the suggestion. “I’m actually good with just tea,” you replied, giving him a small smile.

San looked at you for a moment, almost as if he were processing your words. Then, with a wink, he spoke up. “Tea? Alright, I’ll take care of the wine then.” 

The waiter arrived, and San ordered a bottle of Merlot for himself, while you stuck to your choice of tea. As the waiter left, you couldn’t help but feel a little out of place with San’s relaxed confidence. “You don’t drink much, huh?” San asked as he settled back into his seat. You laughed nervously, lifting your cup of tea. “Not really, but I can handle a glass every now and then,” you said, still unsure about the wine.

San smirked, clearly enjoying teasing you. “It’s just wine. You’re not gonna get drunk off of one glass. Relax, we’re on a date now.”

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling the playful tension between you two. But beneath the surface, you started to wonder if San might be getting bored with all your talk about personality tests and MBTI. You didn’t want him to think you were too much.

The conversation shifted into a more comfortable rhythm, both of you talking about your respective careers and experiences. Even though the night was still young, it felt like you were both starting to connect on a deeper level.

San took a slow sip of his wine, watching you intently as he set the glass down. “So, I’m curious... with your app and the whole 16Personalities thing, how did you end up creating it? I mean, it’s not every day you meet someone who owns such a well-known platform.”

You smiled, feeling a rush of pride at his curiosity. “It all started back in college,” you began, setting your tea down as you leaned forward slightly. “I’ve always been really into psychology too, even before I knew what MBTI was. I’ve always liked understanding how people tick, you know?”

San nodded, clearly interested. “I get that. It’s kind of like my fascination with how people process emotions. It’s amazing how there’s always so much more beneath the surface.”

You continued, “Exactly! So, when I came across MBTI, I thought it was such a cool way to break down personalities in a structured way. I thought to myself, why not create an app that could help people figure themselves out, and even help others understand each other better?”

San raised an eyebrow. “So you basically turned your passion into a business?”

You grinned, a little sheepish. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. It wasn’t easy, though. There were times when I wasn’t sure it would work. But once the app gained traction, I knew I was onto something. The feedback from users was everything. People were telling me how much they learned about themselves and their relationships—it felt like I was actually making a difference, you know?”

San's gaze softened, his admiration for you evident. “That’s incredible. You built something that has real impact. I can see why you’re so passionate about it.”

You looked away for a second, a little bashful under his intense stare. “Thanks. It’s definitely a lot of work. But it’s worth it, especially when people reach out to say how much it’s helped them.”

San nodded, then leaned in slightly, his voice lowering a little. “And you’ve clearly done well for yourself. I have to admit, I admire your drive. You’re doing something that not only challenges you, but also helps people in a meaningful way.”

You felt a slight warmth flush through you at his words, unsure if it was the wine or the genuine sincerity in his tone. “I guess I’ve always been the kind of person who wants to make a difference, even if it’s just in small ways.”

San’s smile grew, and for a moment, you could feel the connection between you two grow even stronger. “Well, you’re definitely making an impact, no doubt about that.”

You laughed softly, grateful for the compliment but not wanting to dwell on it too much. “Enough about me. You’ve got to tell me more about your work, San. You mentioned helping people with deep emotional struggles—what’s been one of the most challenging cases for you?”

San paused for a moment, his expression turning more thoughtful. “There have been a few,” he said slowly. “But one that really stuck with me was a young woman I worked with. She came in dealing with trauma from her childhood—she was just barely keeping it together. It took months of therapy, but eventually, we made progress. I can’t explain the feeling when someone like that starts to trust you and take steps forward. It’s humbling.”

You were silent for a moment, processing his words. It was clear that San wasn’t just doing his job—he was genuinely invested in his patients. “That must’ve been an incredible moment. I can’t even imagine the kind of impact that had on her life.”

San nodded, his eyes a little distant as he spoke. “It wasn’t easy, but the small victories are what keep me going. It’s not about fixing people—it's about helping them realize they’re capable of healing themselves.”

You were struck by his humility, and for the first time, you noticed how much thought and care he put into his work. “I really respect that,” you said softly. “It sounds like you’ve found your calling.”

San smiled again, this time with a bit more warmth. “I have. And I think you’ve found yours too, with what you’re doing. We’re both in jobs that help people understand themselves better. That’s a pretty cool thing to have in common.”

You chuckled, feeling a little lighter with the connection you were starting to build. “Yeah, it’s pretty crazy that we’re both so into understanding people’s minds in different ways.”

San leaned back in his chair, his eyes still locked on yours. “Not so crazy when you think about it. I mean, you’re an expert at analyzing personalities, and I’m just doing the same thing—just from a different perspective. We’re both into making sense of how people tick.”

You thought about his words, nodding. “True. It’s kind of funny, actually. We’ve spent this entire date talking about MBTI and psychology, and yet, here we are, still learning about each other.”

San’s lips curled into a small smile, and he reached for his wine glass. “I’d say it’s been a pretty interesting date so far.”

You smiled, your heart fluttering a little. “Definitely interesting.”

The waiter returned, placing a new round of drinks on the table, and as the evening continued, the conversation naturally flowed into other topics. But no matter what they talked about, the spark between you two remained—something deeper, something real.

—

The air was a little chilly when they stepped out of the restaurant. San insisted on walking her home since it wasn’t too far, just a few blocks away. They strolled in silence for a moment, until Reader spoke.

“You know… I didn’t expect we’d have so much in common.” 

San turned his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting into a subtle smile. “Me neither. I thought this would be just another awkward dinner.” She chuckled. “Same. But finding out we both studied psychology? That was a twist.” 

San nodded. “It felt like I was talking to someone who actually gets it. The burnout, the pressure, the way we’re expected to always ‘have it together’ just because we understand the mind.”

“Exactly,” she agreed. “It’s comforting, honestly.” They stopped at a crosswalk. The streetlight cast a warm glow on both of them. “You really built your own company,” San said softly. “That’s… impressive.” She shrugged, a little bashful. “You started young too. Becoming a psychologist at twenty-six? That’s wild.”

They exchanged glances—those long, quiet looks that held more than just admiration. Something deeper hummed in the silence. “I didn’t expect to enjoy this night so much,” you admitted. “I was about to say the same,” San replied, taking a slow step closer. “You surprised me.”

“Surprised you how?” 

“You’re bold. Direct. But you listen. I think I needed that.” Y/N’s breath caught slightly as he stepped into her space, their hands brushing briefly. Neither of them moved away. When they reached the steps of her apartment building, they stopped.

“Well,” she said, “this is me.”

San nodded, his eyes not leaving hers. “Right.”

They talked about university days, their mutual burnout stories, professors they both coincidentally knew, and the one shared subject they both geeked out about: human behavior.

“You really took psychology because you wanted to understand people better?” you asked, glancing at him. San nodded. “I was tired of guessing what others were feeling. Understanding the mind felt like power. A quiet kind.”

She smiled. “Same. Though I guess I took it more because I wanted people to understand me.”

San looked at her, a thoughtful pause in his steps. “I think people do. You’re… loud in the best way.” That made her laugh. “Loud?” “You fill the space. With energy. With presence. That’s not a bad thing.” She smiled, genuinely touched.

By the time they reached her apartment, the street was quiet—just the hum of distant cars and the soft flicker of the streetlamp above them. She turned to face him at her doorstep.

“Well, this is home,” she said, a little breathless. He stayed where he was for a second, hands in the pockets of his coat. “You said you weren’t sure about blind dates.” “Yeah,” she replied, chuckling. “I stand corrected.” They stared at each other. There was tension—warm, expectant.

“I’d really like to see you again,” San said slowly.

“I’d really like that too.”

A beat passed. San took a small step closer. “Can I—?”

Y/N didn’t move away. She tilted her head slightly, gaze flicking down to his lips and back to his eyes.That was all the permission he needed.

 He leaned in slowly, testing the space between them, until his lips brushed hers—gentle at first, hesitant. But when she didn’t pull away, his hand came to the side of her face, and the kiss deepened. Slow, sincere, magnetic.

When they finally pulled back, their foreheads rested against each other.

“You’re full of surprises, San.” He smiled. “So are you.” 

She reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze. “Text me when you get home?”

“I will,” he said. “Sweet dreams, beautiful.” She went up the steps with one last glance behind her. San stayed there for a moment, watching until the lights in her apartment turned on.

And for the first time in a long while, he smiled on his walk home. He got so much in love with You, at the first sight of their eyes.

Epilogue - "Crazy Minds" 💘✨

Since that night, San and Y/N had become inseparable. They were officially a couple, and all of it was thanks to INFJ Bestie, who had somehow played matchmaker and found them their perfect match. 

INFJ Bestie, who had pushed Reader into that blind date in the first place, had always known something special was happening between them. "I knew you two were meant to be," INFJ Bestie often said, grinning at the two of them. "I'm basically a genius at this." 

That night, San and Y/N were curled up together on the couch, watching a movie they weren't really paying attention to. It didn’t matter though, because it was just the two of them, talking, laughing, and feeling completely at ease with one another. They weren’t strangers anymore; they were a couple, comfortable in each other’s presence.

San, who had kept his feelings close to his chest, finally opened up. “You know, I didn’t expect us to get this far. I never thought I’d have a relationship like this.”

Y/N smiled, eyes sparkling with warmth. “Well… I didn’t think so either. But look at us now. I’m glad we gave this a chance.”

San squeezed their hand a little tighter. “Me too.”

They exchanged a look that said more than words could. And in the quiet that followed, San took a step closer. Their eyes locked, hearts pounding as the space between them closed. Reader felt their breath hitch as San stepped in even closer, and without a word, their lips met in a kiss. It was slow, soft, but meaningful.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a kiss filled with intimacy, the kind of kiss that said everything they hadn’t been able to say aloud. The kiss deepened, slow and tender, magnetic in a way neither of them had expected. 🌙💕

He had fallen in love with her the moment their eyes met. 💖✨

And that’s how INTJ x ESTP combined through relationships, FOREVER.

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thank u for ur time & for reading this fic!

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 37

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 5k

Masterlist

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Friday, January 15; 6:00 AM -  Lucy's Room.

Even though the ringtone is more pleasant than the alarm in our dorm, it doesn’t stop me from groaning and burying my head in the pillow when it echoes through the room. I hate waking up, no matter what sound comes out of the alarm. I feel a light pressure on my back, encouraging me to roll onto my stomach.

"Get up, Ona."

"No," I mumble.

We stay like this for a little while. I start to worry when her presence lingers on me longer than usual. This isn’t normal. I turn my head to the side to check on her. A smile creeps onto my face when I see her eyes are closed. My movement must have woken her up because she opens one eye, then the other.

"Is getting up tough, Miss Bronze?"

"Whose fault is that?"

"It’s not like I didn’t warn you..."

I clutch my pillow a bit tighter. Guilt washes over me when I see her like this. She hasn’t been spared during the last five nights I’ve spent here. She has as many dark circles under her beautiful eyes as I do.

"I don’t blame you, Ona. But get up now, or we’ll be late."

"Hmm... Don’t feel like it."

Instead of listening to her, I roll over in her bed, pulling the comforter over my head to escape her. Silence reigns until I feel a foot in my stomach, sending me tumbling off the bed. I open my eyes wide to see her grinning triumphantly. The shock leaves me speechless.

"I already let you sleep in my bed, even though I tell you every night it’s the last time... At least do me the honor of getting out when I tell you to, will you?"

I groan as she gets up and walks past me, but I smile when I’m sure she’s in the bathroom. This girl is completely crazy, yet I like her more and more every day. I didn’t think that was possible. Neither did I expect my episodes to worsen after coming to this room. Neither of us was prepared for it. Lucy even thought I had lied about the previous ones, but that wasn’t the case. In the end, we realized the only way for me to fall back asleep after an episode is to sleep in her arms until morning. If that doesn’t happen, I can’t get back to sleep for at least one or two hours.  Lucy kept telling me each time that it would be the last time and that we’d find another solution, but here we are, five nights in.

"Ona," she scolds as she comes out of the bathroom, standing in front of me with her arms crossed. "You’re really pushing it. Get up, now!"

"Alright, I’m getting up!"

"You better be! Hurry up, we’re leaving in ten minutes, max."

The one thing that hasn’t changed since coming here is her commanding nature. Sometimes I think it’s just a front to make her orders seem more fun. But deep down, I know that’s not the case. She wouldn’t hesitate to punish me if I didn’t listen. She has the authority, so she takes advantage of it. With these thoughts, I head to the bathroom, where my things are already set. Lucy has managed to change all my habits in less than a week. She makes me prepare my clothes the night before, and sometimes we even go to bed earlier than the imposed curfew to catch up on sleep. That’s unheard of for me. I quickly get dressed, brush my teeth, and apply some makeup. I barely have time to fix my hair when the door opens, and  Lucy walks in.

"Ready to go?"

"Yep, I just need to grab my jacket and bag."

 Lucy hands me my jacket with a small smile. In her other hand, I also see my bag.

"Thanks," I say, holding back an eye roll.

I’ve discovered that  Lucy is very particular about order. I thought I was meticulous, but she’s on another level. Her room is always impeccably tidy, and she’s incredibly organized. Case in point: our suitcases are already packed, just waiting for our return later this afternoon. Once everything is set, we leave her room. We greet an instructor who came out at the same time as us, then I follow  Lucy down the stairs. I still feel a bit strange being here, but I’m no longer afraid of what her colleagues think. All the educators were informed that I’ve been staying with Lucy ever since a teacher caught me in the hallways when I was heading to her room alone one night. I had been hanging out late with Alexia, not paying attention to the time. The teacher dragged me to the principal’s office without listening to a word I said. He felt pretty foolish when Wiegman explained the situation to him.

"Shall we meet up later?"  Lucy asks me.

"Yep, I’ll meet you at the car, then?"

"Around one o’clock, yes."

"Alright, have a good morning."

"Thanks, you too."

We’ve settled into a bit of a routine. I leave her to wait for her friend at the back door of my dorm while I head to the cafeteria to meet up with mine. Alexia always waits for me out front to ask how my night went. No one has noticed our routine yet because we always join them at the table anyway. Today, we’re the last ones to arrive. We sit in our usual spots with our full trays and join in on the discussions already happening during our absence. It’s the best part of the day. Since we wake up early, we always have time to chat until eight o’clock. Sometimes, there are exceptions where we leave the cafeteria early, like today. I don’t return to  Lucy’s room. I’m not allowed to. Besides, I know she needs to shower since she always goes for a run after breakfast. Since I live with her, I’ve started to learn her habits. We already spent a lot of time together, but now it’s even more. However, I’ve been trying to balance things since Alexia confessed that she misses me. I realized I was spending more time with  Lucy, so I decided to organize myself better. Now, I dedicate my classes and free time before meals to Alexia and my evenings to Lucy in her room. I’ll see how I manage once I’m swamped with homework again, as I’ve asked to work in Lucy’s office, and I know she won’t forget that. In the meantime, I head to class. The day goes relatively well. For a week now, we haven’t really been following the lessons since these are our last few weeks. We’re still working, but nothing important, so we end up laughing a lot with Alexia, making the most of our last two hours together. Maybe too much, as we get reprimanded by our teachers quite a bit. Today is no exception.

"Seriously, you should’ve seen her face when I told her," she giggles, talking about her girlfriend without any discretion. "It was hilarious!"

"Alright, enough!" shouts the teacher. "Out, both of you! Now!"

I widen my eyes at the tone our teacher suddenly took. I expected him to react again after his first warning, but not this harshly. He’s the only one who’s gone so far as to kick us out. We must have pushed him to his limit. Our teacher in the first class was more lenient with us.

"No, it’s fine, we’ll calm down," my neighbor replies.

"You’ve already told me that ten minutes ago," he retorts. "And the rest of the week too. This is the last straw. Out!"

To accompany his words, he points to the door. Alexia reluctantly packs up her things. She gives me a stern look to prompt me to do the same when she notices I’m not moving. The only problem is that I’m frozen. I’m going to be in so much trouble if I leave this room.

"Batlle, do you need a special invitation?"

"No, it’s fine..."

"Excuse me?!"

I don’t reply anymore, afraid of making things worse and getting written up too. It wouldn’t be the first time. I grab my bag and join Alexia, who is already at the door. As if that wasn’t enough, the teacher asks another student to escort us to Bronze' office. I’m in so much trouble. Ale is teasing me.

"Oh, come on, you shouldn’t be that scared! It’s been ages since Bronze punished you."

"You don’t get it. If I’m denied the weekend because of this, I’m a dead girl!"

"You’re overreacting," she laughs.

Oh no, I’m not. She doesn’t understand why I’m so scared. We arrive at my supervisor’s office quicker than I would’ve liked. Two pairs of eyes are on us as the student escorting us knocks on the door. My first instinct is to stare at my feet.

"Ooh... This doesn’t look good," Ingrid comments.

I bite my lip. If she caught on that fast, I have no doubt  Lucy will too. I hear the latter stand up from my peripheral vision. I fidget with my fingers, dreading making eye contact with her.

"What’s going on?"

"I—," my classmate tries to explain.

"I wasn’t talking to you," she interrupts. « Ona?"

- We-

- I said Ona, snaps Lucy harshly in response to Alexia’s attempt to speak.

I lift my head for the first time since I’ve been here. I realize that I’ve positioned myself behind Alexia without meaning to. To my surprise,  Lucy doesn’t look angry, or she’s hiding it very well. She raises an eyebrow when our eyes meet and crosses her arms.

- We got kicked out, I mumble.

- Excuse me? I don’t think I heard you correctly.

I swallow hard. She’s right about one thing—she’s a very good actress. She’s angry. I doubt her lack of sleep will help matters. I press myself against the wall as she approaches us. She sighs, ripping the paper from Megan’s hands violently.

- Alright. Go back to class.

She’s so terrified that she bumps into me as she leaves the room.  Lucy doesn’t take her eyes off me, which also tends to scare me.

- Reasons? she asks me.

- Talking...

- Talking? she repeats, raising her voice. Are you kidding me?!

- No...

- I can’t believe it, she says bitterly. You promised me you wouldn’t do it again! And here you are, as soon as I loosen the reins just a little, you do it again, she snaps at me.

- Luce-

- Oh no, no, she cuts me off. Shut up, will you!

- Whoa, calm down, Ingrid intervenes. Have you seen her face or what?! She was already terrified just walking through the door! she defends me. I think she’s learned her lesson, right Ona?

I nod timidly, thanking her with a look, unable to speak. I knew she would be mad at me. Even though she’s my friend, she’s always prioritized her role as supervisor. I turn my eyes back to her when she sighs again. Her hand rubs her forehead, as if she has a migraine.

- I’m sorry, she says. I’m sleep-deprived.

- Let’s look at the bright side. We can now finish our work faster, Ingrid says, trying to lighten the mood.

 Lucy doesn’t say anything else, just gestures for me to sit in my usual spot. Alexia, who still hasn’t said a word, simply gives me a sorry expression, realizing that I was completely right to be scared.

- Well, I guess I’ll team up with mini Putellas then, Ingrid says. Come sit with me, will you?

Alexia follows the orders she’s given. I smile slightly, noticing she’s not used to being here. I’m sure it’s the first time she’s been kicked out.

- Does this change anything about our weekend? I ask Lucy timidly, who’s now standing in front of me.

- No, but you won’t have the next one, and neither will I.

- Why not?

- Because that was part of the deal with Wiegman! she informs me. How can I go if you’re not sleeping at night?

Now I feel guilty. I should have negotiated to stay in class and asked for a different seat, for example. It’s too late to come up with solutions.  Lucy slides a sheet of paper in front of me. I don’t understand her intention until she asks me to read out the numbers to help her with her work.

- Can I go to the bathroom first?

- You’re kidding me, right?

I bite my lip, wanting to collect myself before diving into her work. Her bad mood makes me anxious. She grants me this favor but insists on coming with me. I say nothing, even though I made the request to get away from her. When we arrive at the bathroom, I only breathe when I’m locked in a stall.

- I’m sorry... I dare to say once I can no longer see her.

- I’m the one who should be sorry, she surprises me by replying. You could have held off for your last class at least.

Not knowing what to say, I stay silent. I come out of the stall after flushing and stand beside her to wash my hands. I look up into the mirror when a pair of lips touches my cheek. The contact lasts longer than it should. I remain speechless at this more-than-pleasant gesture.

- Do me a favor and don’t get kicked out again for the rest of the year. I won’t be as lenient next time, knowing what you’ve become. Got it?

- Yeah... Sorry again about your weekend... There’s no chance I’ll have it.

- I’ll make sure you don’t. That will be your punishment, she tells me. I had planned to offer you a weekend in the Alps with my friends. Now I’ll have to reschedule everything since I can’t go anymore, and I’m not sure if you’ll be invited then.

- What’s this about...?

- I wanted to surprise you since I’m forbidding you to go back to Barcelona.

- You would have taken me with you...?

- Of course.

- And now you don’t want to take me?

- Not until you prove you deserve it.

She winks at me before leaving the room. I quickly toss my paper towel and follow her. Damn it! I’ve messed everything up! I’m sure she’s trying to make me feel guilty, and it’s working perfectly. I try to convince her to change her mind on the way back, but it’s no use.

- Please, Luc-

She puts her finger on my mouth, making me stop so I don’t run into her. I look around and see that we’re back at the office, and our friends are laughing at us.

- That’s enough. I said no.

- So, are you two best friends again? Ingrid asks.

- No, she’s just trying to persuade me to take her on the weekend we planned.

- Oh... I forgot about that... Damn. Can’t we go now? Can’t you work something out?

- That’s what I’m trying to ask her! I reply.

- I said no. It’s your punishment. Now move your chair over here. You’re supposed to be helping me, remember?

She sits behind her desk with a determined look. I glance at Ingrid, who seems exasperated by her friend’s behavior. Without much enthusiasm, I follow the order and sit next to her. Alexia also sits next to Ingrid to work better. I retrieve the previous sheet and make myself comfortable, crossing my legs.

- First to finish wins? Ingrid challenges us. We’ve been waiting for you for this.

- Fine by me,  Lucy surprises me by agreeing. You’d better be efficient. I hate losing.

I chuckle and nod.  Lucy gives the signal to start our silly contest. I quickly give her the first eight-digit code to avoid getting scolded. We keep going like this for a good half hour until the bell rings in the hallway.

- Already? Ingrid exclaims. Do you have one or two hours of detention?

- Two, I respond instinctively at the same time as Lucy.

 Lucy gives me a dark look.

- What? It was my turn to answer.

- Hmm.

I sense amusement from Ingrid. It’s true, it’s pretty funny to see us connecting this way. Alexia is more discreet next to her, even though she’s probably thinking the same thing as us.

"Alright, give me the next one?" she reminds me.

Friday, January 15; 12:40 PM - Manchester Airport.

Ten minutes have passed since Lucy and I arrived at the airport. The morning had been tense since my dismissal, but  Lucy calmed down after we crushed the other team just before lunch. After that, we separated to eat, then I met her on the same side street as last time when it was time to leave. Now, I’m eagerly waiting for Mapi to arrive, and I think I’ve mentioned that enough already. I’m starting to get fed up with the tension between Lucy and me. It feels like it’s only getting worse. She’s been ignoring me since we got here, tapping away on her phone doing who knows what. I sigh in frustration. This situation is ridiculous. I was about to speak when she finally looks at me, but then she steps back, looking behind me. The next moment, something literally jumps on me. Lucy catches me to stop me from falling. I’m attacked by a wave of kisses, causing Lucy to step back.

"Mapi, cut it out," I laugh.

"I missed you so much! Oh my God, I thought I’d never land! Seriously, how do you manage to sleep through every flight?"

I laugh, recognizing my best friend and her way of complaining without mincing words. I turn around when she finally climbs off my back.

"Good to see you, Commander! Maybe not as much as my Ona, but still!"

"Good to see you too, Mapi."

Mapi sticks close to me until we retrieve her suitcase. Since I no longer have a phone to communicate, she catches me up on her crappy week in detail without paying any attention to Lucy beside us. She missed an important exam that she hopes to retake. She also tells me she ran into her ex with Feli. Judging by Lucy’s reaction to this news, I’m not holding my breath for her to change her mind about returning to Barcelona. She eventually talks about her casual flings, which I could have done without hearing next to my supervisor. I feel extremely embarrassed, unlike Mapi, who seems totally at ease. I get a brief break when she grabs her suitcase from the conveyor belt.

"Does she always talk this much?"  Lucy asks.

"It’s just the beginning..."

"Great. I thought no one could be worse than you."

"Hey!" I lightly punch her. "I’m not that bad! And I did warn you that you were taking a risk by picking her up."

She pinches my cheek when I pout. I give a victorious smile when she apologizes, saying she was joking. She quickly withdraws her hand when Mapi comes back. She resumes her monologue all the way to the parking lot.

"Wow, nice ride! An Audi? You didn’t mention that, Ona! Can I sit in the front?"

"No!"  Lucy and I reply in unison.

"Whoa, calm down, you two," she chuckles.

 Lucy avoids us by getting into her car. I help Mapi put her suitcase in the trunk before we get in too.  Lucy hasn’t let me drive her car since last week, but I was glad she let me do it at least once. The feeling of driving her car was magical, and I understand why when it purrs at startup.

"By the way, Ona?" Mapi asks.

"Can’t you just shut up for, like, five minutes?"  Lucy growls.

"Is she always this grumpy?"

I laugh as my best friend points at  Lucy with an indifferent look.  Lucy’s going to explode any second if she keeps pushing her buttons like this.

"If you don’t stop soon, I’ll leave you on the side of the road!"

This scene is truly hilarious. Mapi eventually cooperates by sinking into her seat and sulking. Now she knows what it’s like to be put in her place by  Lucy Bronze.

"What was your question?" I finally ask.

"Um, I’m not sure I’m allowed to talk..." she pouts.

"Don’t be upset. She was joking. Right, Lucia?"

"Mm," she responds.

"So?" I press.

"Did you sort out your phone problem? You said you would this week."

I sigh and shake my head, thinking about that issue.

"I called my mom. She gave me a hard time when I explained that mine was broken. We argued until she finally agreed to let me cancel the line and get a new one."

"And?"

"Well, I eventually got the green light."

"So it’s good? You can get a new phone?"

"Normally, yes."

"Then why don’t you already have one?"

"Because Lucy will take me when she feels like it."

I see Mapi flinch in her seat through the rearview mirror. I glance at  Lucy, who sighs heavily. I place my hand on her shoulder to try to calm her down. I think Mapi’s presence is irritating her. She was happy to host us last week, though. Maybe I’m wrong. Her mood has worsened since my dismissal. I feel responsible. We had started the day off well. I smile as I realize that my touch has an effect, against all expectations.

"Go ahead, Mapi, spit it out,"  Lucy encourages.

"Well... We could go get one now, right? But, you know, it’s up to you! You’re the driver, after all..."

"Alright, let’s go. I’ll have the opportunity to leave you there if you keep annoying me."

I laugh, removing my hand from Lucy. She changes direction towards a street I recognize. She’s actually heading downtown.

"Take out my phone and send a message to Ingrid asking her to meet us," she orders.

I don’t think twice and do what she asks. My best friend is here, so she can ask hers to join us too. Ten minutes later, we’re in the underground parking of the shopping mall. I’ve visited a lot of places, but I’ve never been here. We follow Lucy, who heads for the stairs. She’s tapping away on her phone, as if we’re not even there. We arrive in the middle of a dozen brand-name stores. I spin around to see if I spot any stores I might like. It only lasts a second, but when I stop, I don’t see anyone beside me anymore. I move forward a bit, hoping to spot  Lucy, Mapi, or maybe even Ingrid, but I don’t recognize any faces. There’s no one. I’m alone, and I start to panic like a little girl who’s lost her mother in the supermarket. I look around and even search my pockets, but I quickly remember that I haven’t had a phone for weeks. I stop when I start to feel overwhelmed. I’m beginning to think I’ll never find them with all these people around. I jump when a strong hand suddenly presses on my shoulder. I was ready to fight back, but I relax when I come face to face with  Lucy.

"Oh, thank God..."

Without thinking, I hug her. She chuckles softly, accepting the embrace. She doesn’t seem to notice my panicked state. Yet, I can feel my heart racing against her warm body. I pull away from her so she doesn’t realize how exaggerated my reaction was.

"Sorry, I... I didn’t see you leave, and I thought I’d never find you again."

"Calm down," she smiles. "I’m here now. Give me your hand so I don’t lose you again. Your wonderful best friend and Ingrid are waiting for us."

She knows exactly how to calm me down. I smile and happily take the hand she offers. She pulls me along in a direction I definitely wouldn’t have taken if I had gone looking for them.

" Lucy?" I call out to her.

« Mm?"

- "I'm sorry for ruining your mood... It's my fault, and I hate seeing you like this."

I bite my lip when our eyes meet. She smiles tenderly.

- "It's not your fault."

- "But—"

- "I promise, Ona," she interrupts, tightening her grip on my hand. "If you don't want things to get worse, don't stray from me again."

I smile at her, and she finally lets go of my hand when we reach Mapi and Ingrid, who are deep in debate. It almost seems like they've known each other for ages, even though they've only met twice.

- "Oh, there you are at last!" Mapi exclaims when she sees us. "Can we go now?"

- "Of course. Try not to get lost again."

Ingrid and Mapi walk ahead of us as if we weren't there. Well, they do glance back at us occasionally.  Lucy tells me that the mobile store is on the next floor when I ask her. We take the escalator to get there.  Lucy takes my hand again as I start to lag behind them. The other two girls decide to leave us to check out the store across from the mobile shop when we arrive. At least we'll have a little peace, and I'll have time to choose a phone without any pressure.

- "Hello," a salesman approaches us right away with a predatory smile. "Can I help you?"

- "We're fine, thanks,"  Lucy replies coldly. "We're just browsing for now."

I give the salesman an apologetic smile, realizing that he's unwittingly sparked my boss's ire. I hurry to join her when she calls me over a bit further away. I apologize and quickly catch up to her.

- "I guess you want an iPhone? Can you even afford it?"

- "Yes, yes! My mom sent me some money."

- "Do you want to look at anything else?"

- "Are you kidding?" I giggled. "I only have Apple products; I'm not going to look at Samsung!"

- "As you wish," she smiles. "So, which model? You had a 13, right?"

- "Yeah," I sighed. "Actually, I'm torn. I could get the latest model, but I think it's too expensive. What do you think?"

- "What I think? It's not up to me to decide."

- "I'm just asking for your opinion..."

- "There's not much difference between the latest models. It's up to you to decide what you want."

- "Do you need advice?"

 Lucy lets out a grumpy sigh towards the salesman who returns. I stifle a laugh and place my hand on her arm, which is holding one of the displayed phones.

- "We'll come to you when I've made my choice," I simply say.

He nods. I think he got the message now. I smile, seeing  Lucy glaring at him as he walks away. I call her to get her attention. She raises an eyebrow, noticing my amused expression.

- "You think this is funny?"

- "He's not doing anything wrong; he's just doing his job."

- "Yeah, well, if his job is to check out all the pretty girl in this store, I hope he gets a bonus considering how often he stares at you."

I look at her, stunned by that comment I didn't expect at all. A burst of laughter escapes me, causing her to frown. It's one of the last things I expected to hear from her. I wipe away the tears forming in the corners of my eyes.

- "Are you done?" she snaps coldly.

- "Sorry, Luce, but why are you reacting like this? Who cares? I won't ever see this guy again anyway."

- "Yeah. Well, are you done so we can leave? The last thing we need is for the others to show up, and that would be the icing on the cake."

- "Hey, are you done being like this? As long as those two are together, they leave us alone. It's pretty nice, isn't it?"

- "Which one are you choosing?"

I sighed, realizing that my words wouldn't change her mood. I hope it'll fade soon because I won't be able to put up with it for long. I give up and change the subject, pointing to a phone in front of us, the iPhone 15.

- "That one, then?"

- "Yeah."

- "You know it's really expensive?"

- "Let's just say my mom transferred me a generous amount," I giggled. "Might as well enjoy it, right?"

- "You could use it for something else."

I stare at the new iPhone for a moment. According to people, it's the phone to have. I'm so tempted, but  Lucy's eyes are much more compelling. I let out a defeated sigh.

- "Alright, alright, I’ll go for the other one then."

I settle for the iPhone 14 that was right next to it.  Lucy nods, as if she approves of the obvious choice.

- "So, black or white, Princess?"

- "White," I finally said without hesitation, crossing my arms.

- "Okay," she laughs. "Let's find a saleswoman."

- "The salesman was fine by me," I teased. "Especially since I told him we'd go back to him."

- "You really want to irritate me to the end?"

We lock eyes for a moment until I look away to find the salesman in the store. I’m not trying to annoy her, but I don’t want to give her the final say on everything either. I smile when I finally see him and waste no time going over to him.

- "Ona," she

 growls behind me.

- "Have you made your choice?" he asks warmly when I reach him.

- "Yes, I have. Can you take care of it?"

- "I'm not sure your girlfriend feels the same way..."

- "Oh, she’s not—"

- "If it were up to me, I would have gone to your colleague already," my boss retorts. "Just do your job."

- "R-right... If you would follow me..."

The poor salesman is almost running out of fear as he heads to his desk with a computer. I wait a moment before following him to turn back to  Lucy.

- "Are you serious? Why did you let him think we were together?!" I giggled.

8

"I’m saving you from his flirting tactics."

"Oh yeah? Who says I didn’t want to be flirted with?"

"Doesn’t matter," she rolls her eyes. "Come on, he’s waiting for us."

I smile unconsciously as I walk past her. This situation is actually quite funny. The poor salesperson doesn’t dare look at us when we sit on the stools in front of his desk. He prefers to focus on his screen to do his job. I suppress a smile when  Lucy continues her act by placing her hand on my knee. I have no idea what’s gotten into her, but I don’t mind it.

"So... uh, what would you like to do?" he finally looks at me.

"Open a new line."

"Alright... Are you already a customer with us?"

"Yes."

"She’d like a new no-contract plan,"  Lucy intervenes. "That’s what you wanted, right?" she asks me for confirmation.

I nod with a sly smile. The guy taps on the keyboard as I give him my line number. He accesses all the information my mom provided when setting it up. Fortunately, she had the sense to put it in my name, or else I wouldn’t have been able to change anything. He quickly switches the line when I tell him the plan I want with a new number.

"Uh... what model do you want?"

"iPhone 14 in white," I replied.

"Are you sure you don’t want to go for black, being undecided that you are?"  Lucy asks with an amused smile.

"Stop it," I giggle. "You’re really silly."

"Yet, I’m the one on top," she murmurs.

Her words were a whisper, but loud enough for the salesperson to hear. I can’t hide my surprise when I catch her smirking. I can’t believe she dared to say that! My cheeks flush with embarrassment, and I can’t think of anything to say in response. She’s taking this role-play way too far. The salesperson is so uncomfortable that he gets up, saying he’s going to get my phone from the stockroom.

"What were you thinking?" I spitied as soon as he left.

"Oh, it was just a joke. I’m not sure which of you was more uncomfortable," she teases.

"It wasn’t funny at all, you idiot!"

I can’t hold back my smile as she laughs even more. Goodness, I don’t understand what’s gotten into her all of a sudden. Just a few minutes ago, she was completely grumpy.

"We should play this game more often."

I turn my head to hide my embarrassment. I didn’t know she could be so teasing. I push her hand away when she tries to slide it up my thigh to provoke a reaction. I glare at her, but she’s not intimidated in the slightest. She just chuckles and places her hand back on my knee when the salesperson returns. He sets the box with my new phone on the counter after scanning the barcode.

"Alright. Now we just need to set it up. We can do it together if you’d like."

"Yes, please."

He removes the plastic wrapping and pushes the box toward me.

"Do you know how to do it yourself?"

"Of course."

"I’ll let you handle it then. Is there anything else you need?"

"A screen protector,"  Lucy replies.

I hadn’t thought of that, but it’s a good idea considering how my last phone ended up. I nod, and he gets up again. Meanwhile, I take my new phone out of the box and insert my new SIM card under  Lucy’s watchful eye.

"This game is ridiculous," I say.

"I thought I was doing you a favor," she says, removing her hand.

"A little, yeah. But we both know he wouldn’t have tried anything more."

"That’s true. I don’t know what made me react that way, but it annoyed me to see him looking at you like prey."

A foolish smile spreads across my lips. I appreciate that she doesn’t let people disrespect me. I try to convince myself that there’s no hidden motive behind it. That’s probably the case anyway. I turn on my phone and start setting it up, syncing it with my account. I feel relieved when I see my home screen, as if I never broke my previous phone. I’m thrilled to find all my data intact.

"Did you manage?" the salesperson asks upon his return.

"Yes, everything’s working," I reply with a smile.

"Great, here’s the receipt," he hands me a sheet of paper. "You’ll find a one-year warranty, your new phone number, and of course, the price. Are you paying by card?"

"Yes," I confirm.

He hands me the machine once he’s inserted my card. I enter my code before handing it back.  Lucy takes the bag where the salesperson has put the empty phone box and the receipt. I thank the salesperson as he returns my card.

"Have a good day," he wishes us.

"Thank you, you too."

I put my phone in my pocket before anything can happen to it, and we head out to meet Mapi and Ingrid. It wasn’t difficult to find them. They were waiting on a bench across from the store. The first thing Mapi asks me for is my new number. I choose the simplest way: sending her a message. I do the same with  Lucy and end up getting Ingrid’s number, which she readily gives me. “Just in case,” she says. I’m not sure I’ll use it, but at least I’ll know who to contact if I can’t reach  Lucy one day.

"So, movie night at my place tonight?"  Lucy suggests.

"Really?" Mapi enthuses. "Like, all four of us?"

"I’d love to leave you behind, but Ona wouldn’t let me."

We all laugh except for Mapi. The girls get up, and we head back down to the parking lot. Mapi immediately agrees to Ingrid’s offer to ride with her. I stay with  Lucy, who seems pleased to get rid of my best friend. I know she likes her and that it’s just her bad mood talking, so I’m not worried about the rest of our weekend. I’m beaming when she hands me the car keys.

"You’re letting me drive?!"

"Mm-hmm."

"But I don’t know the way to your place..."

"I’ll guide you."

I don’t ask her a third time and take her keys. She makes sure I’m settled in and have my license with me before letting me go. I start the car, unable to hide my smile as I think about the evening ahead.

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

Is this the end? (part III)

Katya is new at SHIELD. When she messes up during her probation, she thinks Fury will send her away. To ease the pain, she distances herself from Nat.

• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC • Wordcount: 4.8k • Warnings: angst, mentions of self-harm and (sexual) abuse (both not detailed) •A/N: The final part!! Sorry it took me over a month to finish... Hope you enjoy! Masterlist

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

"Another lap! Keep going! Keep going!"

Katya's head still spun from the psychological tests they drowned her in this morning, and now they had her doing a military physical test in the Maryland afternoon rain. She completed the obstacle course in record time—as expected—and was now running laps around a muddy track with her lungs burning in her chest.

"Come on! I've seen kids go faster than that!"

Katya clenched her teeth, refraining from yelling anything back to the stupid woman in the middle of the track, with her stupid stopwatch and her stupid clipboard. There were two intimidating looking SHIELD agents, one at the south gate and one at the north, with pistols strapped to their legs, that wouldn't appreciate an outburst like that. 

She knew for a fact that she was going twenty percent faster than the fastest human being. Twenty percent smarter, twenty percent stronger, twenty percent faster. At least, that's what she was told. Who knows how true that all was. 

There were more things she didn't know about herself than she did know. This morning's tests had proven that once again. 

Besides the puzzles, the riddles, the IQ tests, the personality test, and the lie detector loyalty test—the one SHIELD knew she could beat if she wanted to—there was the shrink, the therapist. Katya hated them. Always pretending to understand what she felt, the sympathetic look, the invasive questions; those people could never help her. She didn't want their help.

But answering their questions was a part of this weird test day that she didn't fully understand, but she felt she had to behave for.

So she acted like nothing the shrink said bothered her, talked around things, and tried to fight off the pit of despair in her stomach when he asked her the most basic questions.

"Where were you born?"

"I don't know."

"Do you have any siblings?"

"No idea."

"What are the names of your parents?"

"Couldn't tell you."

Lucky for her, Katya didn't have time to dwell on them like she usually would. She was ordered to put on sports clothes and shoved in the back of a SHIELD van right after the interview ended. And now she was here, trying very hard not to think about them again as all the laps she ran blurred into one.

Instead, she tried to figure out what this testing thing was all about. Because last night, she was still one-hundred percent convinced she would have to leave SHIELD. No doubts. Her bags were packed. She had made peace with it. 

But then they pulled her out of bed at 6 this morning. First to put her in a room with all these tests; figural reasoning, logic-based reasoning, situational judgement. And now to test her physical fitness. All stuff to determine how good of a spy she'd be. 

Why?

Katya mulled over that single question on the journey here, to this SHIELD training facility. 

Why would they be testing her if they were sending her off?

That question spun around and around in her head. It was there as she climbed the rope net, there as she crawled through the mud—inches below barbed wire, there as she dashed across a slim beam, and there as her feet splashed tirelessly in the puddles on the oval track. 

She still didn't have a solid answer. 

She didn't dare to think about the positive answer. 

Nothing in her life had ever turned out good. Her stay at SHIELD—it had felt finite from the start. Too good to be true. She was a tool, one that was meant to work and function. Worthless if it didn't. There was no way SHIELD was going to keep her if she didn't function. The organizations she was a part of before didn't. Why would SHIELD be different? Even here, there must be no space for leniency.

No, they were definitely going to throw her by the side of the road like trash. 

Or—and this possibility started to claw at Katya's heaving chest with terror—they were selling her again. Back to the Russians. Back to whatever party wanted to have her.

Katya hadn't noticed her rhythmic steps had started to falter until a loud voice called across the field.

"Come on! Don't stop! Keep going!"

But she was heaving now, panic slashing through her body when she couldn't catch her breath. She stumbled clumsily, her heart racing in her chest. The ground rushed towards her. 

They were making her go back to Russia.

"Hey! Petrova!"

She wasn't gonna let them. Another life of abuse, of torture. She couldn't do it. She wouldn't do it.

"Are you hearing me?!"

She'd die before going back there. If she was going to be handed off, she was going to make a run for it. Either she'd make it out alive, or they'd shoot her dead. A win either way. 

"Are you hearing me? I said: keep going!"

Katya abruptly shot up, her eyes spitting fire as she turned around with newfound energy. "Shut up!" She screamed, so loudly her aching lungs burned. "I'm trying! Can't you see I'm trying!" 

Her supervisor blinked a few times, her thumb frozen on the start/stop button of the old-fashioned stopwatch. She didn't look surprised as Katya glared at her. That must not be a good thing.

Immediately knowing she fucked up, Katya turned around again and ran off as fast as her numb legs could carry her. Through the mud, through the soppy grass, with no real destination in mind. There was no way out of this fenced complex, but she didn't stop until she collapsed against the wall of an electricity cabin, black spots dancing across her vision. 

Tears burned behind her eyes. Her breath came and went in short bursts as she tried to fight off an even intenser panic attack. 

Everything was officially over. Yelling at her supervisor definitely closed the book of a life at SHIELD for good. And it was all her own fault. Her fault for not being good enough, and that was a completely new thing for her. She'd always been the best.

Katya turned her face up to the sky, the cold raindrops refreshing on her burning skin. She used them to ground herself, counting them one by one to gain control of her panicked body.

Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine.

Strangely enough, she longed for Natasha. The woman had no clue of her panic attacks, but Katya suddenly felt a strong need to have her by her side, helping her through this one.

Thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two.

Her chest ached, but not because of her lungs this time. She would have to say goodbye to Natasha again soon. 

Thirty-three, thirty-four.

Her tears mixed with the rain. All her emotions surrounding the redhead were a confusing mess. Where her whole life and future felt unsure and scary, Natasha was the center of calmness. If Katya thought of her, she felt strong, safe, able to do anything.

Thirty-five, thirty-six.

Natasha brought up emotions within her that Katya hadn't felt in ten years. Genuine happiness, affection, purpose, but most of all, that incredibly dangerous four-letter word.

Thirty-seven, thirty-eight.

But there was also fear, and guilt, and anger, and grief. One minute, Katya was confident of what she felt and wanted. The next, she was sure everything was doomed and nobody ever loved her.

Thirty-nine, forty.

"Petrova!" A voice called from the distance. Katya turned her head away from the sky, squinting through the rain. "We're done for today! Let's go! We're leaving!"

Forty-one, forty-two.

This was the end. But her life at SHIELD was doomed to end the day it started, so what did anything still matter?

~~~~

She didn't apologize for her outburst when she got into the car. The concept of a genuine apology was foreign to her. Nobody had ever said sorry to her. Not for touching her, not for beating her up, and not for starving her to death. So she never apologized either.

Rain, sweat, and mud dripped from her body onto the leather seats and the floor mats down below. Katya felt disgustingly gross, if that was even a thing. Her socks were wet, she stank, her skin felt gross, and her nails were black with mud. It only added to her emotional misery. 

She wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. Her life had known very deep lows, but this must be one of the most painful moments of all. Right when everything was at the tips of her fingers, it fell out of reach. And that happened while she looked and felt like a drowned rat.

Shivering and shaking, Katya crawled out of the car an hour later, eager to take a shower. 

She decided not to wait any longer. After getting clean, she was going to pack her bags and leave. She had waited long enough. This had dragged out long enough. If they weren't going to make the decision, then she would, walking out of the best thing that ever happened to her.

"Fury wants to see you in this office."

That sentence should have instilled more fear into her than it did, but Katya felt physically nothing as she nodded once, turning to the lifts to freshen up before facing the most important man of the Western world.

"Right now."

She stopped and turned back to her supervisor, raising her eyebrows. Some dried mud cracked on her forehead. "Can't I shower first?"

"Now," the woman ordered, striding off with big steps.

Katya suppressed a scoff, sighing deeply as she dragged her feet to the elevators. What a way to get fired. She didn't blame the people that shuffled away from her in the elevator this time. In the reflection of the doors, she caught sight of herself and completely understood their disgust.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Those were not the first words Katya had expected to hear from her boss when she stepped into his office, but she hadn't missed the hint of amusement in his voice and in the glint of his eye. She couldn't blame him either.

Awkwardly, she pushed her damp hair behind her ears. "Maryland rain, sir," she answered stupidly, too paralyzed to come up with anything better.

Fury scoffed a laugh, rustling through the papers on his desk. "You better not drag any of that on my carpet."

"I'll try not to," Katya answered, standing even more still.

It appeared Fury had no rush, because he kept searching for something in the silence that settled into the room. She hoped he couldn't see her anxiety. Because despite her acceptance of the future, Katya's heart pounded in her chest with nerves. She hated it. There was only one emotion that could persist after all this: 

Hope.

Her mouth opened before she could stop it.

"Before you send me away, sir, I would like to say something, if I can." 

Blankly, Fury looked up. He couldn't be thrilled about an interruption, but Katya took his sudden attention and silence as a yes. She cleared her throat and felt the corners of her mouth turn up.

"I just want to say thank you. I know it wasn't generosity that allowed me to stay. It wasn't pity either. I don't know what it was. But you gave me an opportunity to become better, to turn my life around… and that means more to me than you'll ever know."

Now, she was ready to leave. Thanking him was the last thing on her to-do list before she could peacefully go. He was, after all, the first man who had ever protected her.

"Who said anything about sending you away?" 

Katya blinked—once, twice—trying to grasp the meaning of his words. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the world started to spin.

Fury sighed, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his stomach. "I had Romanoff storm into my office on Monday. She's very… protective of you. Said I had no reason to doubt you. That you hadn't lied about anything. Was she wrong?"

"No, sir," Katya answered on autopilot. Her brain was numb, too confused trying to understand what the hell was going on. She was only half aware of what he was saying.

Fury calmly studied her. "I assume she told you that the mission was a test? A test of loyalty."

Katya nodded once. It had felt so unimportant when Natasha told her that. She failed her mission, test or not. End of story.

"See, I can never be certain of the choices someone makes until they are in a life or death situation," Fury continued. "When you joined our fine organization, you were locked up, literally chained to the floor with nowhere to go. It's easy to give up your loyalty that way."

His leather chair squeaked when he sat up straight, folding his hands together on his messy desk. His one eye pierced her skin until it stared straight into her soul. Katya had never felt more like a kid.

"So, I wanted to see if you'd do the same thing again. If choosing to join SHIELD was just a way to save your own ass, or that you really wanted a second chance."

A drop of rain water trickled down Katya's temple and cheek.

"The easy way out would have been to surrender to Hydra, convince them you joined us with the goal to spy on us and report back later. But you didn't. You fought for your freedom, for your return to us."

Part of Katya was hurt and furious that he put her through that. That he emotionally broke her by letting her believe that she messed up. But the bigger, rational part of her completely understood. Fury wasn't the director for nothing. He made smart choices—hard choices—in order to keep his organization safe. 

She wouldn't have trusted herself either if she was in his shoes. She had all the odds against her. Russian, a spy. She'd killed dozens of good guys, grown up brainwashed and indoctrinated. She'd been physically, mentally, emotionally and sexually abused her whole life, making her the most unstable, traumatized person on the planet.

The only reason she was standing here was because of Natasha. And because of that small, tiny spot in Fury's heart that was soft for lost, broken people like her.

Fury picked up the iPad in front of him, swiping and tapping on it until he started to read from it. "See, today, you gave me the best scores I've seen since Romanoff did the same military course. In dry weather." 

Surprised, Katya's lips parted. Her performance today didn't feel like anything special.

"You ran multiple track records forty minutes in. You're stronger than the strongest guy we have, you are more intelligent than most of the scientists we have down at the lab, with zero mistakes on the tests from this morning. Your aim is impeccable, and your situational judgement is excellent." Fury lowered the iPad, pointedly looking at her. "I would be extremely stupid to let a good spy like that walk out of my building."

Katya could hardly hear anything over the pounding in her ears. She was shaking so violently she feared she was spraying drops of water everywhere like a wet dog. "What are you saying?" She asked, suppressing the hope in her voice.

"That I'm taking a big leap—no a huge leap, by making you an official Agent of SHIELD, but I believe that you won't break my trust."

Katya squared her shoulders, ignoring the huge wave of relief that crashed into her. "I'll be the best, most loyal spy you've ever had."

Something flickered behind Fury's eyes. A smile? He reached for the drawer of his desk, pulling something out. "Somehow, I don't doubt that." 

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed something on the far side of his desk. Curious, Katya took a step closer, stretching out to see what it was.

Her own face stared back at her. 

Katariina Alina Petrova. Level 1.

"Welcome to SHIELD, Agent Petrova."

~~~~

Katya pulled her knees tighter to her chest, closing her eyes and enjoying the hot water that cascaded down her body. It wasn't only cleansing her skin, but her heavy soul, slowly washing away all these months of insecurity and tension, revealing the person that she forgot existed underneath. It felt freeing, like a rebirth.

Another violent tremble shook her so badly that her teeth clattered. For this reason, she had to sit down to shower. It started once she realized she was safe, shedding her muddy clothes on the bathroom floor. First, she'd thrown up her lunch in the toilet and nearly fainted, and then the trembles started. It was just her body's way of getting rid of all the tension.

Katya didn't even mind it. She was too ecstatic to be bothered. Her sobs bounced off the tiled walls in relief, in disbelief, in happiness. She sobbed until her lungs hurt. It felt so good.

There was only one person on her mind who she desperately wanted to share the news with. The only reason she hadn't stormed over there immediately after getting her SHIELD ID was because of the way she looked and smelled. And because of the way Katya had been treating her these past few weeks… 

It took an hour for her body to calm down enough that it was safe to stand up. Katya got out of the shower on shaky legs, made herself look presentable, and then snuck to the kitchen. Her stomach felt queasy, her throat raw and dry. She chugged a whole bottle of water and stuffed a sandwich down before stealing something out of the special cabinet.

Even the hallways of SHIELD HQ felt different as she walked through them. She saw things she'd never seen before because she had been too anxious, too focused to see them. She'd never fully taken in all the details, because why would she do that if she wasn't sure that she could get to stay? Like a foster kid that didn't dare unpack their clothes until a few months later because they weren't sure if their foster parents would want to keep them.

Katya sat outside, by the river, on one of the only recreational benches that were placed there. HQ was built on such a small island that there wasn't much space around it. And all the space that was there, was used efficiently. Agents that wanted to go on a stroll in the fresh air had to cross the bridge. 

But Katya wasn't looking for exercise. She was looking for a quiet place to drink. Was that a smart idea on a sensitive stomach? No. Probably a very bad idea. But even though she felt on top of the world, the reality of her actions also came down on her in this sudden clarity of emotions. 

She'd treated Natasha like shit. Avoided her, yelled at her, ignored her. And the redhead had deserved none of those things. 

Katya's heart ached when she thought about it. She couldn't help how dark things got when she fell into a depression like that, but it didn't mean she shouldn't take responsibility for her actions. It wasn't an excuse to behave like she did. 

But it was so, so hard to talk about. Emotions, feelings, they weren't supposed to be spoken about. They were supposed to be hidden. She was supposed to be stronger than those raging feelings in her body. Look where it brought her if she gave in.

Katya shook her head strictly and took another sip of vodka. Those were toxic thoughts. Things they programmed her with. She was human, and humans had feelings, and feelings were meant to be felt. What she was about to do went against everything she was taught.

She was going to apologize to Natasha. 

By the time she managed to muster up the courage to knock on Natasha's apartment door, she'd finished half the bottle of vodka. It had done little to nothing to ease her nerves. Her hands still shook as she pushed her ID deeper into the back pocket of her jeans and fiddled with the cap of the vodka bottle.

Katya was prepared for anything. If Natasha wanted to slam the door in her face and yell mean things at her, then she deserved that. Honestly, she expected it. Anything slightly better than that would be too generous.

Her heart threatened to burst out of her throat when she heard shuffling on the other side of the wooden door. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe she should just send a text message. But before she could actually bail, the door swung open.

Natasha froze in place, her eyes widening. "Kat," she breathed in surprise. It must have come out different than she wanted to, because she shifted her weight around and added a more casual, ''Hey.''

She must have seen the difference in Katya's demeanor right away, right when she laid eyes on her. The dark war flag had been taken down for one of surrender. Usually, it was a shame to wave a white flag. But in this case, it was bravery.

"Hey," Katya answered with a trembling half smile, avoiding Natasha's gaze in a way that was meant to be nonchalant. Stupidly, she hadn't thought of what to say. Who the hell came up to give an apology and didn't rehearse what to say first? "I have something for you."

As disoriented as she was, Natasha took the bottle of vodka without thinking. When she held it up to study it, Katya realized what an incredibly stupid gift it was, and how she deserved a slap in the face for this terrible attempt at an apology. It's just as soon as she was in front of Natasha, all the words left her brain.

"Yeah, sorry, I drank half of it," Katya said sheepishly when she saw the odd look on Natasha's face. "I needed some courage to come talk to you.''

Her vulnerable confession came as a surprise to both of them. Natasha's expression visibly softened while Katya fought the urge to run away or make a joke to cover it up. She'd never felt this uncomfortable, but she rooted her boots into the floor and refused to give in to it.

Natasha turned the bottle over in her hand, reading the label on the back. "Where did you get this?" Katya was grateful she didn't comment on her confession.

"The kitchen."

The redhead's head snapped up. "You stole this?" Her eyes flickered left and right into the hallway, the blood draining from her face. She looked afraid. "Kat, one foot wrong and you're out—"

"Yeah, I wouldn't worry about that anymore." With a sly smile, Katya pulled her new SHIELD ID from her pocket and held it up. 

The rest of Natasha's scolding words died in her throat. Her mouth closed, and she slowly raised her free hand to take the ID. It was obvious that Katya had surprised her. So many different emotions crossed over her face but they were gone too quickly to nail down. She was too hard to read. Even for Katya right now.

"When did you get this?'' She asked distractedly, reading the words on the very plain, very boring ID. Katya's headshot wasn't even pretty. They took it right as she came out of the isolation cell, when she had barely seen the sun in weeks. 

''Two hours ago?'' She nervously chewed on her lip. She couldn't tell if Natasha was happy about it. What if she didn't want her to stay anymore after this week? Oh gosh, what then?

But then, right as Katya couldn't take it anymore, a smile broke through on Natasha's face. ''Well, shit.'' She gave a disbelieving chuckle, her green eyes sparkling proudly as she looked her childhood friend in the eye. ''Congrats. I knew you could do it.''

Katya felt tingly all over. The first person to believe in her wasn't herself, it was Natasha. For a long time, it was only Natasha. It made her want to hold her chin up a bit higher, and try a little bit harder. For her. 

''Thank you.'' She ignored the heat in her cheeks as she stuck the ID back in her pocket. Receiving compliments was an art she didn't master, so she covered it up with a joke. "A lot of people aren't going to be happy with this decision."

Natasha scoffed cockily, stepping aside to let Katya into her apartment. "Screw that. You belong with m—us now. I always knew, but now it's on paper too." She shrugged her shoulders after she closed the door, placing the vodka on a cabinet to the side. "Or on plastic, I guess."

Puzzle pieces fell into place. Peace settled over Katya like a warm blanket in the winter as she looked around Natasha's plain apartment. This was her home now. She was officially safe. She had friends who had her back. She belonged somewhere. She could breathe.

The emotions were so overwhelming. The urge to curl up into a ball on the floor and cry happily was so strong. Twenty-three years of living and she finally had a place in this world.

"Natalia.'' 

Natasha was already looking at her, but Katya felt the need to say her name, to make sure she was listening. That she knew something serious was coming. Uneasily, the blonde shuffled in her spot, staring at Natasha's stomach instead of looking into her eyes. She wouldn't be able to say what she wanted to say.

''I'm sorry.'' Her throat felt tight. The words were hard to get out. But Katya pushed them out and threw her heart at Natasha's feet. ''I really thought Fury was going to send me away. I tried to make it easier for myself by distancing myself from you, to try and make the heartbreak hurt less. It was stupid, and unfair, and I hurt you, and I'm really sorry for that."

She sucked in a shallow breath. That was the most open she'd been her whole life. But it felt good to get that off her chest.

"It was stupid," Natasha said. Shocked by her bluntness, Katya forgot her nerves and looked up. "Stupid to think I wouldn't follow you out that door if you left."

Katya quickly shook her head, refusing to acknowledge the weight of those words. "I would never want you to give all this up for me. It's the reason I didn't come to find you in the first place.''

''Looks like I don't have to give up anything now.'' Natasha looked so sure about her decision that Katya didn't even try to argue any more. She just observed the woman standing in front of her. The one she didn't deserve in every lifetime.

"I'm sorry, Talia. Again. I fell into old habits."

"Don't beat yourself up. You're already forgiven,'' Natasha said softly. She glanced at the floor, sliding her hands into her back pockets. ''I also want to say sorry, for the way I reacted when I found you in the shooting range.'' She shook her head, as if she disapproved of herself. ''That could've been done way better. I was just—you scared me.''

Katya mirrored her depressing mood, shame washing over her in waves. She was so far away from that state of mind right now, that it was hard to understand why she wanted to dig that knife into herself to begin with. ''That was the first time somebody was there to stop me,'' she muttered, immediately beating herself up over saying that when Natasha's face saddened further. 

''I'm sorry.''

Katya shook her head. ''I don't want you to feel like you have to keep me alive or something.''

''I don't feel like that,'' Natasha answered with conviction. ''But when you ever feel that urge again, will you come to me?''

''I can try.''

The redhead nodded once, then straightened up and took the vodka from the cabinet. ''Enough of the heavy stuff. We should celebrate. Have you been to the roof?'' She asked mysteriously, a smug sparkle in her bright eyes. And just like that, the conversation was over and they were all good again.

''No…?'' Katya answered warily.

Natasha smiled, swinging the door open. ''Let's go then, Agent Petrova.''

Katya chuckled as she passed through, watching Natasha take a big swig of the liquor as they walked down the hallway. ''You do realize you're going to be stuck with me forever now, right?''

''It's the only way I wanted it.''

[francisofthespook]

Neighbors AU pt.2!

Part 1 here

AUDaryl Dixon x F!Reader

Word Count: 1731

Warnings: Language, smoking

Setting: AU where walkers never happened and you are Daryl's Neighbor. Season 5 ish Daryl.

A/N: okok so I knew i wanted to make a part two to this but it was kinda my self indulgent depression one shot and i was like fine for a while but oop ! Things suck again ! So heres a part 2. I really am starting to love this tiny little universe thats being unintentionally built and i am for sure gonna do a part 3. in my head part 3 is a lot happier so maybe i wont have to be in such a shitty place to write it. anyways i hope u guys enjoy this and the little character building thats going on ! I also have been really missing writing so maybe this will help me get out of my slump... we will see...

also this isn't like thoroughly proof read so i'll probably go back in and fix some things, sorry if there's mistakes

Daryl had hoped that you would be feeling better now, but instead of things getting better, they just got… weird? You didn’t talk as much anymore during the evenings you spent together smoking. You started coming out for your smoke later and later until eventually, you stopped coming out at all. He had woken up early one morning and noticed that you were outside watching the sunrise as you blew small clouds of smoke. He tried to wave at you from the small window in his kitchen, but it went ignored. He got the message. 

He knew he shouldn’t have been as hurt as he was; it wasn’t like you two were dating or anything… as much as he wished that had been the case. He guessed that you had just grown tired of him and decided to stop wasting your time talking to him. It would have broken your heart if you knew thats what he was thinking. Maybe it would have made you tell him the truth, because the truth was so far from that.

You had slowly stopped hanging around Daryl because it hurt too much, and the feelings that he made you feel scared you. You had a life with your boyfriend and you couldn’t risk giving it up for someone who you weren’t even sure actually liked you. In the back of your mind, there was a little voice that told you that Daryl was annoyed by your constant complaining. That if he hadn’t already gotten sick of you, he soon would. Plus, you were so mortified by the state that he had seen you in the other night you were sure that if he hadn’t already been disgusted by you, he surely was now.

But despite all that, every night you found yourself lying awake in bed and staring at the ceiling, daydreaming about what your life could be like. It was dangerous. You had stability, you were familiar with the flow of your life with your boyfriend. The thought of giving that up, regardless of how much happier you could be, was terrifying. What if he didn't feel the same way? What if he laughed in your face? Then you would have nothing. The risk wasn’t worth it, no matter how great the reward seemed.

Daryl, on the other hand, was starting to get nervous. He didn’t care if you hated him or thought he was good for nothing, thought you deserved better than him, he still cared deeply about you. He just needed to know that you were okay. He came up with a plan and had put little thought to it before he decided to go through with it. 

You were walking out of class one afternoon, struggling to juggle all your books, when you saw something familiar out of the corner of your eye. From where you stood on the front lawn of your college, you could see a familiar bike propped up at the far end of the parking lot. You knew that bike, and you knew its owner couldn't be far from it. 

Quickly scanning the area, you spotted Daryl leaning against a tree by the science building. He must have remembered you had chem today, but you had left early to talk to your advisor. You groaned internally, hoping he wouldn't ask you why you were coming from the administration building. You wouldn't have the heart to tell him you were considering dropping out. In the past, you had entertained the idea of dropping out to him, and every time, he shut it down. He expressed to you how much of a privilege it was to be able to get an education and that you didn’t want to ‘end up like him’. You always rolled your eyes at that. Maybe he hadn’t gone to school, but he still had a decent job and was very knowledgeable about his craft. Something you couldn't get from traditional college. 

Ducking your head and trying to speed walk to your car was probably a dumb decision. It was inevitable that he would spot you; there were barely any people out right now. 

“(Y/N)!”

You heard from across the lawn. Sighing, you internally admitted defeat and slowly began walking toward him. He put out his cigarette on the concrete and started walking towards you, the two of you meeting in the middle. 

“Hey.” He spoke, trying to hide both his hurt and his anxiety. 

“Hey.”

You responded, but you had yet to make eye contact with him. It hurt you to do this, but you knew it was for the better. Your heart couldn't handle being around him if you couldn't have him. Maybe in the past, you made it work, but now, your feelings are too strong. It was all or nothing, and you had chosen nothing.

“Wha’s goin' on?”

He was trying to be patient with you; he didn’t want to scare you off, but he needed answers so that he could move on. 

“Nothing's going on.” Daryl sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He had expected you would be stubborn if you had even given him the chance to talk. 

“I mean it (Y/N). What's wrong? I barely see ya anymore! If ya don't want to talk to me again, tha’s fine, but just tell me why? What did I do wrong?”

Instinctively, you looked up at him, the hurt in your heart growing to an unbearable amount. How could he have thought this was his fault?! He didn’t do anything wrong; in your eyes, he probably could do no wrong. As much as you didn't want to talk to him, you owed him this. 

“Daryl, you didn't do anything wrong. It's me. I promise it has nothing to do with you.”

You tried to express your sincerity with your tone, you needed him to know that it wasn't his fault. It was obvious that he had been a little hurt by your growing distance, and you didn't want to hurt him anymore.

“Then why won't ya talk to me anymore? You barely even look at me anymore! It's like I'm some kinda ghost to you, and it hurts.”

You didn't know what to say. Standing there with your mouth agape and readjusting the stack of books in your arms, you were speechless. You assumed he would have been confused and maybe a little hurt, but you thought he would eventually get over it. But now you saw, that maybe your friendship meant more to him than you thought. But you couldn't tell him the truth either way. If you did, it could end up hurting both of you even more.

“I just-”

An exasperated sigh and stumbling words were all you could get out. You looked around the yard as people were slowly starting to get out of class. You needed to get this over with so that you didn't cause a scene.

“I’ve just been really busy, and I ha-” He cut you off before you could finish. 

“Bullshit.” The two of you stared at each other in silence before you continued. Frustration was showing in his eyes, and you didn't know what to do to ease it.

“Honestly, Daryl, I don't know. I'm just really unhappy right now, and I'm trying to figure out what to do. I promise you it has nothing to do with you. I'm just- considering some life changes right now.”

He looked at you for a moment before looking past you at the building you had just come from. He knew. 

“Like what, dropping out? How’s that gonna help you?”

“No, I just- I don't know. I'm just exploring my options.”

Trying to hide your anxiety, you shifted the books in your arms again. Looking anywhere but his eyes and eventually landing on your shoes. 

Daryl took a breath to calm down and spoke to you in a soft tone.

“(Y/N), you can't just throw away everything you've worked for. You have a life, you have so muc-” This time, you cut him off.

“I have nothing! I’m miserable! Every day, I wake up in an empty bed and just go through the motions! I come here and sit alone in the back of class, eat alone in the cafeteria, come home, and go to sleep next to someone who's become a stranger to me! I'm sick of it! Sick of everything!”

Your little outburst had drawn the attention of a few people passing by. Daryl stared them down until they turned and kept walking. He was at a loss for words. Miserable? How could you be miserable? You had so much going for you. And everything? You were really sick of everything?

“Yer sick of me?” He said, sounding defeated. The look in his eyes burned a hole in your heart and you regretted every word you had said. Of course, you weren't sick of everything, but that was the problem. He was the only thing you could stand. You took another deep breath before continuing.

“No Daryl, that's the problem.”

You’d had enough. You couldn't do this anymore, you had already said too much. Anything more, and you would have told him the whole truth. You held eye contact with him for a moment before telling him softly, “I’m sorry.” Then walking away. 

Daryl didn't move. He just watched you walk to your car as he stood in place. He didn't understand what you had meant. No Daryl, that's the problem repeating in his head. So you weren't sick of him? He didn't understand why you couldn't talk to him if he was one thing that you weren’t sick of, one thing that didn't make you miserable. 

He didn't move an inch until he saw you drive off. Shoving his hands in his pocket and bowing his head down, he slowly made his way to his bike. Maybe this had been a terrible idea, maybe he had gone about it all wrong. But he saw how hurt you had looked when you spotted him across the lawn, and he didn’t ever want to be the cause of that look again. He knew now to leave you alone. If you wanted to talk to him, you would have to be the one to initiate it. But until that happened, he would stay out of your way. 

[supernovafics]

you and steve hate each other but you decide to help him when he gets sick

wc: 1k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

it was the sound of two consecutive sneezes followed by a cough that immediately caught your attention when you walked into family video.

“ew, you’re sick,” you said to steve as you adjusted your vest and fixed the nametag which said “robin” instead of your name because you were covering for her while she was out of town for a month.

“i’m fine.”

you simply looked at him. “oh yes, because sneezing and coughing are the signs of someone in perfect health.”

“it’s just really dusty in here,” he said, narrowing his eyes at you. “you probably should’ve cleaned better last night.”

you rolled your eyes at that and almost flipped him off but refrained from doing so last second. there was something about steve that always seemed to annoy you, and you knew that the feeling was fully mutual. it was way too easy to butt heads over nothing or start an argument over the littlest of things. hence why you were barely a minute into your six hour shift and the two of you were already ready to murder each other.

in a way it was funny, though— you two didn’t like each other but somehow you shared a common best friend. a best friend who would do anything to try and make you two become friends. however, through robin’s many failed attempts, it was settled that that was something that would never happen. in the end, she said that it was probably because you and him were way too similar to one another, which you wholeheartedly disagreed with, and that was why you couldn’t be friends.

“let’s just stay away from each other during our shifts, okay? i’d rather not get sick right before the fourth of july,” you told him.

“i’m fine,” he said again and then sniffled, which didn’t help prove his case. “but, i will happily stay far away from you.”

apparently, he wasn’t really fine because the next day he didn’t show up for work and it was just you for the entirety of the morning before keith showed up in the afternoon.

“where’s steve?”

“called in sick,” keith told you. “i almost didn’t believe him, but he actually sounded pretty bad on the phone.”

keith’s words didn’t surprise you at all, but for some reason for the rest of your shift you contemplated going over to steve’s house; bringing him a cup of the soup that was your mom’s recipe but you’d always end up making it for yourself when you were sick because of how much she worked, and also bringing him the cough syrup that seemed to always do the trick. and then you felt stupid for wanting to do anything that would help make him feel better because you didn’t even consider him a friend.

but still, when your shift ended you found yourself heading home to make the said soup and grab the cough syrup, and then proceed to go over to his house. your conflicting thoughts were fighting each other on the entire drive over.

“has this been poisoned?” steve asked when he opened his front door and you told him that you brought him soup since he was sick; hearing the words fall from your lips even surprised you, so his question actually somewhat made sense in your eyes.

but instead of acknowledging the fact that it was really insane that you were at his house right then, you sarcastically decided to say, “shit, i knew i forgot to add one ingredient!”

“ha ha,” he said with a straight face. “seriously, should i trust this?”

you rolled your eyes at him. “oh god, i’m already regretting coming here. just take the fucking soup, harrington.”

after another moment of contemplation, he took the tupperware of soup from your outstretched hand and then opened the door further to let you in. you followed him to the kitchen where he placed the tupperware on the counter.

“you didn’t have to bring me anything.”

you knew that, but there was still something in you that made you want to.

“i know, but i need you to get better fast so that i don’t have to spend another shift only with keith.”

he smirked at you. “so you missed me?”

you forced yourself not to consider his question for a second.

“‘missed’ is a very strong word,” you told him and then quickly changed the subject. “you look really bad right now, by the way.”

he was wearing a hoodie and basketball shorts, his hair was disheveled, and his nose was red from how much you assumed he’d been blowing it all day. it was probably the worst you’d ever seen him and you actually found yourself feeling bad for him, which was something that quickly confused you.

“glad to know your main reason for coming over here was to bully me.”

you smiled at him. “i can’t go a day without it.”

you then remembered something and started to pull it out of your bag. “oh, i brought some cough syrup too. you probably have already taken some, but just in case.”

“i actually haven’t taken anything,” he told you.

you furrowed your eyebrows. “so you’ve just been suffering all day?”

“is that not normal?”

the genuine curiosity in his question confused you for a moment before it all clicked into place. you silently wondered if he had ever been taken care of when he was sick. his parents were rarely ever around so you figured the answer was probably no. it reminded you of how often you’d also have to fend for yourself when you were sick since your mom was barely home. maybe robin was right— you and him were pretty similar.

“no, that’s not normal,” you shook your head at him before handing him the cough syrup. “please take this. you’ll feel better much quicker than if you just ‘let it pass,’ and i can’t believe this is something that i have to explain to you.”

he nodded and took the cough syrup before continuing to eat the soup, which he thanked you for and complimented you on how good it was.

the two of you eventually migrated to the couch in his living room, letting reruns of some random sitcom play out in front of you.

“y’know robin would be very proud of us right now,” steve said, breaking the prevailing silence. “actually being civil with each other.”

“yeah, she would,” you agreed. “but, we’re still not friends.”

“of course not,” he responded with a shake of his head. “the world would probably explode if we were.”

“exactly,” you agreed, letting out a small laugh. “and we cannot allow that to happen.”

but still, as the cough syrup kicked in and he fell asleep leaning on your shoulder, you couldn’t help but feel that something had changed.

[dedeinthewild]

ralf aron x reader, overheating problems

~ from hand scribbles series (tell me an oddly specific situation/state of mind and I'll rec/write a fic about it)

“Beep boop. Diagnostic scan in progress,”

situation : [requested] "Very weird one but my brain feels like it’s overheating from thinking too much and I should probably go to sleep"

The Aron house was strangely empty that week.

Anna had gone back to Italy to visit one of her old coursemates, their parents were spending a weekend at the spa, and Paul, instead of always being in the middle of everything as usual, was in England handling some business as a reserve driver.

But they knew how to keep her warm.

Ralf had sent her a message that morning, clear and concise, asking her to come to his house with a spoon in the late afternoon, not mentioning that he was sitting like a child on the huge carpet of fresh, powdery snow that had blanketed Tallinn in February.

And so, she had shown up there, leaving the warm bed of the apartment where she was staying for her Erasmus program, ringing the doorbell of the Nordic-style villa, bundled up with two pairs of pants, hidden under the scarf he knew so well and a beanie that came down to her eyebrows.

Seeing her, Ralf smiled, letting her in as she pointed out that he was in a short-sleeve shirt while people outside were freezing to death, and her red nose was a glaring example of it.

“You’re the weirdest human specimen I’ve ever met,” she said as she took off the beanie, standing in front of the fireplace.

“Hello to you too, little one.”

“It’s negative ten outside,” she said, showing him her frozen hands, trying to warm them by the blazing fire fed by the logs.

“Are you serious? I didn’t notice.”

She loved it when he teased her, and couldn’t keep a straight face or look angry when he did, and, as expected, a big smile appeared on her face that she tried to hold back. Her head tilted slightly to the side, lips curved in the opposite direction, making her cheeks a little fuller.

“How are you even alive?”

“I’m Estonian, we adapt,” the driver replied, crossing his arms and hanging her jacket by the entrance.

“I’m saying you must have central heating.”

“Yeah, and you’re out here looking like the Michelin Man, so who’s winning?”

“Me, because I managed to get here without my fingers falling off,” she shrugged, her chin slightly lifted now that he was getting closer, with the ash-blonde curls growing since he hadn’t been to the barber in a while.

Under them, a nice pair of blue eyes and a bit of stubble during his break from the racing season and the endless travels that kept him away from home and his parents’ expensive sofa, the only one where he didn’t have back pain and which she didn’t tease him about like he was an old man cracking with every movement.

He stroked her cheeks, as if trying to remove the red that the cold had left as a mark, but it seemed that the tint didn’t want to go away while the driver’s thumbs moved across each small imperfection, under her long lashes and soft eyelids.

“Damn. You’re actually frozen. You feel like a—what are those things called?—one of those blue bricks they put in freezers.”

“I hate you,” she said, her face unconsciously surrendering to his touch.

“You’re lucky I don’t wanna bite you today.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Ralf replied, pulling away with a huge smirk on his face as he grabbed a spoon from the kitchen drawers of his family’s villa, wearing a black t-shirt and track pants that gave him that relaxed, less accentuated vibe on race weekends.

Before she could realize what the Estonian was doing, he had grabbed two bowls and filled them with snow from near the patio, making sure it was clean, and grabbed something like syrup from the cupboards, sticking the spoons into the snowy mountains before placing them in front of her.

She sat on the stool, one knee hugged to her chest while the other was crossed under her body, watching him with the sweet, calm smile she had when they were together without any expectations, listening to him talk about how only one type of snow was suitable for the luxury treat he had eaten since he was a child and was so excited about this morning.

“You made me come here with a spoon for ice with some kind of Estonian marmalade?” she asked, chin resting on her knee, with a few strands of hair falling on her forehead, while he continued his speech about the first powdery snow after a big snowstorm, which stayed soft and delicate, absorbing the taste of the syrup.

“You actually have no survival instincts,” she laughed, watching him go back into the house with the bowls of white powder once again, his young smile tickling his face between the stubble.

“I’m built different.”

“Maybe winter is just a mindset,” he shrugged, lingering for a moment with the spoon, his lips reddened from the cold of the snow, and the taste of the syrup left him with a sensation he knew well in his mouth.

That feeling of nostalgia, the same taste as photos taken with old cameras, and the feeling of doing something after years, realizing it felt even better to do it with a different awareness.

With someone different.

In another time, instead of the girl, there would have been the youngest Aron, devouring the delicacy as if he had been starving for the last six years, giving him a million bits of information per second, watching him while, inevitably, Ralf spaced out, thinking of something calmer and more domestic instead of the issues and thoughts from his brother.

Or an Anna, talking about her Italian friends and their love stories or family problems, even though he had never met them, asking him for advice on some guy she had met, stealing the syrup from him and leaving him with an empty mouth.

Other times, his mom had sat on that stool, asking him a ton of things about his racing season, or about what he saw and visited when traveling the world with his team, keeping in mind the exact familiarity of the features he and his brothers had inherited so gracefully.

But there, in that moment, there was his other half.

The one he could sit in silence with, still feeling content. The girl with whom he had nothing, but with whom he had everything.

The one he would buy a dog with, and take on any stupid adventure he could think of.

And the one with whom conversations could be the deepest in the world.

Or, well, the most nonsensical.

“Hypothermia’s not a mindset,” she smiled, licking her lips.

“Negative energy, that’s what makes you cold,” Ralf pointed at her with the spoon.

She resisted the innate impulse to throw the bowl of snow at him, and looked at him, losing herself for a second in the way he sat so relaxed, his hands around the bowl, his feet resting on the stool between them, and the old slippers, probably his older brother’s, abandoned on the dark hardwood floor of the house.

Ralf was special, at least to her.

And every little thing made him more so.

“Sometimes I think so much that my brain overheats.”

The Estonian looked up from what he was eating, puzzled by the shift in the girl’s conversation, wondering what had brought her to that point.

He furrowed his brows, staring into her eyes, leaning a bit on the kitchen island.

“Overheats?” he asked, curious.

“Yeah. Too many thoughts at once. Like—there’s no off switch. My brain just keeps going and going, looping back on itself, and suddenly I can’t tell if I’m overthinking or just… thinking,” she replied, looking at him from under her hair, with a small, insecure swirl on her face.

Ralf didn’t say anything right away, pondering whether she was opening up to him again or just talking nonsense as they often did when together, and she wondered if saying it out loud had been the right move.

“So what you’re telling me is… your brain is basically an old PlayStation 2?” he said, amused.

“Did you just compare my mind to a failing gaming console?” she raised her eyebrows, surprised.

“Yeah, and the fan is running like crazy but doing absolutely nothing.”

The girl let go of her knee, crossing it under her body with the other leg, bursting into the crystal-clear laughter he loved hearing, the one that defined her when she wasn’t too shy to hide it, making her throw her head back and blush.

“I hate that you’re kind of right.”

“Of course I am, Paul had a bit of a gaming phase.”

“Yeah, you all give ‘I never turn my electronics off’ energy,” she looked at him, the sweet smile filling her cheeks again.

“I’ll have you know I treat my sim set with so much love and care.”

“Didn’t your laptop catch fire back in Sebring last year?” she teased.

He pressed his two lips together, running a hand through his hair, looking at her as if she’d hit him below the belt, wondering how they managed to be so silly without ever getting bored of each other or even growing up.

“That wasn’t my fault,” he made her laugh again.

“Anyway, lucky for you, I am the solution to your overheating problem.”

Ralf stood up, opening his arms, and put his big, enormous, pilot hands on the sides of the girl’s head, the cold touch from the prolonged contact with the bowl of snow, while she looked up at him, trying to figure out what the Estonian was about to do under that huge playful smile that defined him.

“Ralf, no…”

“Beep boop. Diagnostic scan in progress,” he said, pretending to look sideways, in a voice almost mechanical like that of a computer, while holding her head between his hands, standing between her legs, the snow raging outside.

“Ralf!” she laughed, poking his side with a finger, but he didn’t flinch.

“Hmm. Confirmed. Subject’s brain temperature is dangerously high. Deploying emergency cooling measures,” and before she could escape from his touch, he started imitating the sound of a fan, messing up her hair and making her laugh.

That kind of laugh that makes you light, that makes you miss a moment while you’re still living it, that reminds you what it means to be in love.

“I swear to god…” she tried to fake an authoritative tone, failing miserably.

“Shhh. The operation isn’t complete,” he said, taking some snow while she wasn’t looking, her head resting on his chest, as if surrendering to the idea that he was a certified idiot.

And while she was like that, he put the snow on the back of her neck, watching as her body heat melted it, making it trickle down into her shirt and sweatshirt, making her jump suddenly, lips parted from the sensation.

She took some snow from her bowl and did the same thing, making him squirm, while she grabbed his t-shirt and made sure the job was perfect.

“That’s in my— that’s in my spine!” he laughed, holding his breath for the drop running down his back.

“Wow. Your cooling system is so effective,” she teased, watching him try to stop the snow before it got into his pants, amused.

“I was trying to help you there,” the driver pouted.

“You are kind of an idiot, you know that?”

She looked at him for a second, noticing how his shirt was crooked on his long torso, and how his lips were red from the cold and syrup, which his breath smelled like, while his eyes were wide, and behind him through the glass door, the sky was a beautiful blue with the sun reflecting on the thick white carpet.

“Damn. I should start charging for my services.”

She gave him a small punch on the chest, a huge smile on both their faces.

Because the thing about Ralf was—he’s always kind of been her off switch. The person who dragged her out of her own head, even when she was drowning in it.

And she loved being the playful, a little silly, carefree her when she was with him.

Because, deep down, Ralf was nothing more than a teenager in a man’s body.

Who could cool down her circuits when they short-circuited.

And love her even when she looked like the Michelin Man.

random? yes, ralf is a complete dork? yes, do we like it? you tell meeeeee (don't ask me how but I finally managed to post it by working on it and saving it on my phone, and then doing the final adjustments on my laptop)

[hyucksos]

after rain, comes sunshine — huang renjun [preview]

pairing: huang renjun x f!reader genre: coworkers to lovers, grumpy x sunshine, fluff, romance, slow burn-ish preview wc: 0.6k (actual wc: 6.7k) synopsis: a thunderstorm leaves renjun stuck with his relentlessly cheerful, ever-optimistic coworker— you. you're the embodiment of everything he hates, but as the night stretches on, renjun starts to realise that the things that irritate him the most may not be all that unbearable after all. at least, not if it involves you.

There are three things in this world that Renjun hates.

Early mornings, small talk, and thunderstorms.

He must have done something super horrible in his past life, because it's barely even 3pm, and Renjun has had to go through all three of the aforementioned in that exact order.

He wasn't even supposed to come in to work today, but Donghyuck had called in sick (Renjun finds that hard to believe) and he was the only other person on the roster who knew how to make a Toasted Caramel Cloud Latte. Obviously, that wasn't a good enough reason for Renjun to willingly sacrifice his much-needed sleep, and it seemed that Donghyuck knew that too, because not only was he quick to promise Renjun to cover him for his next shift, the boy had also vowed to chip in to buy the new set of gouache paints he had been eyeing for so long.

That was what got Renjun out of bed, albeit begrudgingly.

The last thing he needed was an extra factor to contribute to his already-terrible mood, but that was what he got anyway when he stepped into the café, only to be met with you.

"Morning, Renjun!" You chirped from behind the counter as you dried down a mug, the café already prepped for opening— you liked to take your time when doing the opening duties, and you found that coming in earlier helped avoid any unnecessary rushing on your end.

Renjun didn't say anything, opting to shut his eyes as he tilted his head to the ceiling. You didn't miss the tick of his jaw as he trudged towards you wordlessly, letting his bag fall from his shoulder to the shelf beneath the cash register.

"You know how to make a cloud latte," he muttered under his breath as he put on his apron, securing it tightly with a double knot behind his back. "Why am I here?"

Despite his less-than-enthused response, you grinned. You've been working with Renjun long enough to know that he's a little bit of a grump, so you didn't take his moodiness to heart.

"Hyuck's your best friend. It would make sense for him to ask you instead of anyone else," you reasoned lightly. "Plus, having company isn't so bad, is it? You'll be out the door before you know it!"

"Citizens are advised to stay indoors..."

Renjun lets out a groan as he lets his head hit the cabinet behind him. It hurts, but not as much as the migraine that's already beginning to form in his temples. And as if to add insult to injury (no pun intended), the sky lets out yet another guttural rumble, reminding him once more of his ill-stricken fate.

"I don't think Seoul's had a downpour this bad in ages," you remark from somewhere at the dining area. Renjun couldn't tell where exactly you are; he had slid down to the floor when he decided to accept his fate fifteen minutes ago, and his only view since are the bottles of syrup and unopened bags of coffee beans under the espresso machines.

And as if to add even more insult to injury, the two of you are the only ones left in the shop. With it being a Tuesday afternoon, most of your regulars are either at work or school. Renjun has never liked working during the rush hour, but God does he wish for that to be the case now.

He looks up when he sees your head pop above the counter, raising a brow at the smile on your face. He knows how awfully cheery you are, but even in a time like this?

You must be crazy, he thinks.