#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?”

[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.

[hyucksos]

after rain, comes sunshine — huang renjun

pairing: huang renjun x f!reader genre: coffee shop au, 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.

[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.''

[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.

[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.

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 23

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 7798

Warnings: Dean's "memories" from the night at the bar when he saw her again after leaving after graduation.

A/N: Well, here it is everyone, what Dean was going through over the course of the story. I hope it was worth the wait. Things will pick back up on 10/24 with Chapter 25 and you'll still get next Friday's up on the 25th with Chapter 26. <3

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 23

Dean knew her birthday was coming up. She hadn’t mentioned it, but due to his contact with Sam, he’d been watching the days pass. He noticed her withdrawing more, spending more time alone in her room, as if she was trying to ignore it altogether. He could feel it in her, too, the tension, the longing to be around her family, and the feelings of never fitting in with those in the town.

Her nightmares hadn’t stopped. Some nights, he’d find her restless, tossing and turning in her sleep. On those nights, her fear would pull him from sleep. Dean would quietly slip into her room, carefully climbing into her bed under the covers, and pull her close, just holding her. It never took long for her to relax against him, the nightmare dissipating. He couldn’t bring himself to leave her, though, so he got lost in dreams of her, falling asleep with her tucked safely in his arms.

He never pushed for anything more, he couldn’t. Sam’s words never stopped echoing in his head. She had to choose to let him in, and she refused to let herself hope. Some mornings, he’d wake up before her and slip out of her bed without waking her. Other times, she would be the one to wake up first. A few times, though, he woke up with her but pretended to still be sleeping. She would linger, just watching him sleep, wanting so badly to believe he was her soulmate. But with a weight on her heart, she’d get out of bed instead of daring to believe.

Something Dean had a hard time with—her silence. She kept everything bottled up, walls firmly in place, and he hadn’t been able to figure out a way to break through them. Not gently, anyway. He was trying so hard to be patient, wait for her to choose to believe, but it was beginning to wear thin the longer the two of them were down there.

One afternoon, while he was watching another movie, he noticed her head down to the game room. With a sigh, he went back to his movie. He hadn’t heard her thoughts as easily as he had on New Year’s Eve, but he could still feel her emotions, so he knew she hadn’t severed the connection completely. It wasn’t the same, watching a movie without her tucked against his side, snuggled up in his arms. It was during those moments that the emptiness crept into his chest while the guilt knotted in his gut. Her presence had managed to keep those feelings at bay. His mind was no help either, teasing thoughts of horrible what-ifs of losing her to Cole or that, in the end, she’d hate him for all he’d kept from her.

Dean was quickly pulled from his thoughts, feeling a wave of sadness like a punch to his chest, nearly knocking the wind out of him. He hadn’t felt something like that since he’d found her the night she found the letters from her parents. Dean was on his feet and down the stairs, moving without thinking. Seeing her sitting on the floor, tears streaming down her cheeks almost broke him. His heart clenched, raw and aching.

He knelt next to her, gently pulling her into his arms as he sat down with her between his legs. The papers fell from her hands as she buried her face in his chest, her sobs muffled against him. Her fingers gripped his shirt like a lifeline, her trembling hands pulling him closer as if holding him could stop her from sinking into the flood of grief. His heart ached for her, feeling every ripple of pain as it washed over him.

With one hand, he gently rubbed her back, attempting to calm her while he picked up the letter to find out what had gotten to her. His eyes skimmed the words, his mind piecing together the gravity of what she’d just learned. A family tree… her lineage of empaths. Dean knew this already, that she was an empath, but this piece of paper held so much more than just that confirmation. There was someone in the legal field that her parents had contacted, someone who could help with the nightmare the Vaughts had turned her life into, turned his life into. He knew he needed to call Sam, get the lawyer’s name to him, but right now, she was his priority.

Once he had her calmed down, he spent the rest of the afternoon doing whatever she wanted that would help her relax, not think about the weight of the things she didn’t have control over. He didn’t push her to talk about it. He knew she had more questions that he couldn’t give her answers to, not yet, at least.

Using the excuse of pulling some meat out for dinner, he left her sitting on the couch, watching a movie as he made his way down to the game room. It wasn’t a complete excuse. He did need to pull out a couple steaks for dinner. His main reason, though, he needed to call Sam. Keeping his eyes on the doorway, he pulled the phone from his pocket, dialed his brother’s number, then waited for him to answer.

“What’s up, Dean?” Sam asked, curious as to why his brother was calling him, leaning back in his chair. His desk was strewn with papers from her case, and he was still trying to decipher it all.

Dean let out a sigh of relief that Sam had answered. “There’s a lawyer there in Cali. His name is Fergus McCloud, but goes by Crowley. Y/N found more papers today, along with another letter from her parents.”Sam could hear the heaviness in his brother's words. The two had kept in close contact with Dean updating him on everything that was happening, needing Sam’s guidance so he didn’t end up pushing her too far too fast. “Crowley? Seriously? That’s one of the most ruthless lawyers in California,” he replied, fairly shocked at the news as he quickly began pulling up Crowley’s information. “Was there a set of numbers on anything?”

“No. The letter from her parents said that Crowley was waiting for her to contact him. Keep me posted on this, Sam. I gotta go,” Dean told him, his gaze never leaving the doorway that led to the flight of stairs.

“I will, Dean. This might be the lead we needed. Crowley has been fighting and winning cases against the Vaughts for a few years now,” Sam shared as he read over the law firm’s webpage where Crowley practiced. “Hang in there, Dean. I’ll call when I have something.” And with that, Sam hung up the phone before contacting Fergus McCloud.

Dean let out a sigh of relief, for the first time in a long time, feeling like they might have a chance to get Y/N out of the marriage contract. With her birthday getting closer and not being able to make any headway with her, he was getting worried. He knew she’d end up in a hospital in a coma if he gave her too much information or pushed too hard. That would only cause her to push him away. There were just so many little details that he had to dance around, and he hated it.

That night, he cooked her dinner, another night of steak to brighten her mood a little. He even helped with the dishes, knowing that sometimes, just being close to her helped her relax. She hadn’t eaten everything, but she’d eaten the entire steak, and that was better than nothing.

Later, when they were sitting on the couch, watching a movie of her choice, Dean wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. Her head rested against his shoulder, and for the first time that day, he felt her finally relax. Her breathing slowed, the tension easing out of her body as the movie played on in the background. He didn’t care what was on the screen; his mind was miles away, thinking about her, trying to decipher her emotions and the jumbled pieces of her thoughts that whispered through his head. It was like every emotion possible was just thrown into a blender, none of them individual anymore as they coursed through her. He could at least tell that her emotions made her thoughts just as much a jumbled mess, so he just held her close, being her rock, her safe place.

Dean sighed softly, his thumb brushing along her arm in a soothing rhythm as his thoughts circled back to the letter, to the name she’d been given, and the conversation with his brother before dinner. He felt that flicker of hope again—hope that, somehow, she’d be safe.

The days had slipped by, blurring into each other, even with the updates from his brother. Sam had not only located Crowley but managed to get the man to agree that they work together on not only Y/N’s case but Dean’s as well. It felt like a huge win, even if Dean couldn’t tell her about it. He was still trying to shield her from the stress of what lay beyond the safety of the bunker.

A week before her birthday, though, Dean was sitting in the monitor room, again. The rocks had stopped. In fact, they hadn’t gone off in almost two weeks now, not unless it was an animal going about its business. He didn’t like the silence that had fallen just outside her home. It was unsettling, like the calm before a storm. Dean hadn’t even heard her phone ring, too focused on the monitors.

The moment he felt her anxiety rise, he stood, moving quickly before sitting on the coffee table in front of where she sat on the couch. “What’s wrong?” His voice was low, a hint of urgency slipping through. His eyes searched her expression before he finally noticed that she was on the phone. Something was wrong.

She barely got the words out, her voice tight yet far away. “It’s Sam…”

Without another word, Dean took the phone from her hand, standing up as he made his way into the kitchen. He could sense her panic—hell, he could feel it seeping into him through the bond they shared. His mind was already racing, trying to brace for whatever reason Sam had called.

“Sam,” Dean said into the phone, his tone clipped. “What’s going on?”“Hey, Dean,” Sam’s voice was strained, confirming that whatever he had to say wasn’t going to be good. “I’ve got some updates… good news and bad news.”

“Yeah?” Dean braced himself, his grip tightening on the phone as he leaned against the counter, staring out at the floor as if the answer were somewhere in the cracks of the tile.

“Good news is her case wasn’t thrown out of court,” Sam started, but the way he hesitated made Dean’s stomach twist.” But the bad news is she’s gotta testify.”Dean let out a slow breath, shaking his head as the weight of that statement settled in. “Testify? Sam, you know how dangerous that is. The Vaughts have half the damn system in their pocket.”

“I know, man, I know,” Sam’s voice sounded regretful. “But she’s the defendant. Her testimony is key. The FBI is stepping in. They’re sending agents to escort the two of you to a safe house in California. They’ll meet you at the garage. Crowley helped with that. I know how much you hate flying.”

Dean began pacing, his free hand running through his hair as he thought of her. Taking her out of the bunker, exposing her like that—it felt wrong. “There’s no way to keep her safe out there, Sam. No amount of security’s gonna stop those bastards from getting to her.”“The FBI will do everything they can,” Sam said, but Dean could hear the uncertainty in his voice. “Benny will be there. They want him to testify as well because of what happened at the diner with Cole. This is big, Dean.”Dean stopped, leaning his hand on the counter, frustration bubbling up inside him. He didn’t like this. Not one bit. “You really think this is the best option?” Dean’s voice dropped lower, more urgent. “Because if something happens to her…” The thought of something happening to her brought a tightness to his chest he hadn’t felt in a while. “She can’t, Sam. No amount of protection is going to keep her safe. There has to be another way.” More of his emotions came through in his tone than he had wanted them to.“I’m not happy about it either, but right now, it’s the only option we’ve got,” Sam replied, and Dean could tell his brother had been thinking the same thing. “Crowley is good. She has to be in court in three days. The judge is putting the safety of not only himself but also his family on the line, just for hearing this case out.”

Dean stayed silent for a beat, his mind running through every possible scenario. This wasn’t just about testifying. It was about survival. And protecting her was his main focus. “Damnit! Fine,” Dean finally growled, frustrated but knowing he didn’t have another choice. “I’ll figure out how to get her there.”He hung up the phone, his shoulders tight with tension as he turned around and saw her leaning against the kitchen doorway, watching him with wide, questioning eyes.

“You’re not gonna like this,” Dean muttered, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down harder, knowing how this was going to affect her.

Dean thought it was hard keeping the rest of the truth from her, but that was nothing in comparison to having to tell her what Sam had explained to him. The fear and anxiety that radiated off of her hit him in waves the longer he spoke, so he kept it quick. He wondered if he’d feel the same way, when he finally told her the truth of everything.

She went to her room to change and pack, but Dean felt how hard it was for her to focus. So, after he’d gathered his things, he went to help her. She looked lost again as she sat on the edge of her bed, her duffle sitting next to her, and a shirt in her hands, staring off at nothing. Dean only hesitated for a moment before he sat next to her, gently pulling her against his side.

“I’ll be there the whole time. Benny’ll be there, too. We’ll keep you safe, Sweetheart,” he tried to reassure her, but he knew they were just words. He knew how ruthless the Vaughts could be. Dean also knew that she didn’t fully believe him. “I’ll help you pack, and we’ll just take it a day at a time.”With a sigh, he stood up and went to her closet. He tried to push his thoughts away long enough to focus. Dean looked through her closet, grabbing a nice dress for her to wear when she testified, a couple of shirts, and what looked like a comfortable pair of shoes to go with the dress. He wasn’t one who kept up with women’s fashion, but he did have an idea of how things went together. 

He packed up her things, remembering the things he’d seen her wear often, while she grabbed her journal and a couple other small items. Then, he called Benny, having him come pick them up, but told him to have Jodi send a squad car and have whoever it was on the ready. Dean didn’t trust anything right now. There were just too many ways that everything could go horribly wrong leaving the bunker.

Dean grabbed his jacket, and it felt heavy in his hands. It’d been months since he’d used it, let alone touched it. Now, it didn’t hold that same feeling of comfort it used to when he slipped it on. He grabbed not only his bag but also hers before they ascended the stairs that neither of them had even looked at since going down there. “It’ll be bright out there,” Dean muttered, his voice rougher than he meant.

As they made their way through the house, memories flashed in Dean’s mind of the first time he’d been there, how he’d found her in tears the night she found her parent's letters, and how he’d watched over her while she slept. That seemed like so long ago, and so much had changed since then, even if the house hadn’t changed at all.

Her anxiety grew the moment they stepped outside, even with Benny leaning against his car with the two cops keeping watch of the area. “Come on, Sweetheart. We’ve got a long drive,” Dean told her, gently guiding her to Benny’s car. The two men just nodded to each other, a silent understanding between them. They wouldn’t talk about anything in front of her, it’d be too much right now.

The FBI were already at the garage when Benny pulled up. Everyone else was there as well. Hell, most of them were being flown to Cali for the trial. Dean shielded her the best he could from the bustle that ensued while Benny moved his car to the back of the lot and pulled Dean’s baby to the front. He tossed the keys to Dean, “Don’t think I’m not gonna help you with the drive,” he told him, sliding into the back seat. Dean gave him an appreciative smile before loading their bags into the trunk, and Y/N silently slipped into the passenger seat. It was going to be a long drive, and Dean knew he wouldn’t be sleeping at all.

Once he slid into the driver’s seat, one of the SUVs pulled out in front of him, to which he followed, the other one pulling out behind him. His nerves were still on edge, and her emotions weren’t helping him relax any. Not even Benny’s presence helped him relax. Dean was on guard, on constant watch for anything out of the ordinary, overanalyzing everything.

The road stretched out before them, but Dean’s mind was stuck on what lay ahead. Court, testifying, the FBI, seeing the Vaughts—all of it made his stomach churn. He didn’t like it, not one bit. Every time a scenario played out in his mind, he gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. Not even the classic rock playing in the background helped take his thoughts off things.

The silence in the car broken only by the occasional exchange between him and Benny. Dean kept his focus on the road, though his thoughts kept drifting back to her. He could feel her nervousness, the way it clung to her like a second skin, even as she tried to push it down and focus on the scenery outside.

Dean did at least get her to eat a little something at a couple of the stops when he got gas, and he made sure to get coffee. The FBI agents were not overly happy about having to make this drive nor having to stop as often as they did. Sometime after nightfall, when he stopped again, she climbed in the back seat, lying down on the soft leather. He watched her as he filled the gas tank, Benny hopping in the driver’s seat. Whether Dean wanted to admit it or not, he needed a break.

With Benny taking the wheel for the next stretch of the drive, Dean shifted in the passenger seat so he could easily look back at her while she slept. He watched the rise and fall of her chest as she slept, the tension easing slightly from her face. At least she wasn’t having more nightmares, he thought to himself, letting out a sigh of relief. 

“She’ll get through this, brother,” Benny tried to reassure him, breaking the silence between them. “She’s stronger than she looks.”

Dean didn’t answer right away, his eyes still on her. “I can’t lose her, Benny. I know she’ll get through this. It’s the Vaughts I’m worried about. I already told Sam, but I think she might be having those premonition things some empaths get. She dreamt of Alastair, described him to a T.” 

Benny thought for a moment, remembering back to the research he’d done so he was more up to speed with everything. “Just because she dreamt of him doesn’t mean nothin’. Sometimes, those aren’t accurate. Things can change them, make em’ happen different.” 

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, “I know.” His gaze went back to her, still sleeping peacefully in the back seat. It brought a small smile to his lips. “She’s amazing, and she almost let me in, Benny.” Dean’s voice was far off, remembering New Year’s Eve and how close she’d gotten, how thin the walls around her heart were that night. “It’ll happen. Have some faith,” Benny again tried to reassure him, but at the same time, he was getting worried, too. Her birthday was fast approaching, and her mark still hadn’t come in all the way. 

Dean set his arm on the back of the seat, then rested his chin on his arm, just watching her. He wanted to go lay next to her, feel her body tucked gently next to his. He’d gotten used to crawling in her bed after she would fall asleep, which always kept her nightmares away. At least she wasn’t having any now. Before Dean realized it, he’d slipped into sleep, dreaming of her.

Benny just smiled, thankful his friend was finally resting. He could see her through the rearview mirror, barely. She, too, was resting peacefully. Benny smiled to himself as he drove in the darkness of night, following the tail lights in front of him and keeping an eye on the headlights in the mirror. He wasn’t the fondest of the FBI but silently prayed that they would do their job.

Nearly four hours later, Dean woke up, surprised that he’d actually fallen asleep. “How long was I out?” he asked groggily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Bout four hours,” Benny answered, glancing over at him before focusing on the road again. “And before you ask, she didn’t wake up at all. No nightmares so far either.”

Dean let out a sigh of relief as he stretched the best he could in the passenger seat. It wasn’t even dawn yet. The one great thing about having FBI escorts, they didn’t have to obey the speed limit, so they were making excellent time. “How much longer, you think?” Dean asked, looking outside, trying to make out the landscape in the dark.

“Probably eight or so more hours, depending on traffic,” Benny answered. “You want the wheel at the next stop?”

“Yeah, and coffee,” Dean chuckled quietly before a comfortable silence fell between the two friends.

Around seven hours later, Dean was following the SUV down yet another side street. The cityscape had faded into something quieter, smaller. He hadn’t been given the address as to where the safe house was, so he had to follow the SUV. It wasn’t much; the neighborhood they were driving through just looked like a quiet, almost cozy place to live, with manicured lawns and paved driveways.

The feeling of her stirring caught his attention, a gentle pull on his heart. He glanced in the rearview mirror as she stretched and yawned, her arms lifting above her head, the light catching her hair just right. Dean couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped him when she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, groggy and adorable in a way that she didn’t even realize.

“Where are we?” she mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.

Dean grinned, though his eyes remained on the road. “Almost to the safe house. We should be there in another ten minutes.” He kept his tone calm, reassuring. She needed that right now, more than anything. “How’d you sleep?”“No nightmares,” she replied with a hint of surprise in her voice. “And the back seat is far more comfortable than I thought it’d be.”

He let out a relieved breath when she confirmed that she hadn’t had any nightmares. There were times he still second-guessed himself as to whether the emotions he felt from her were really hers. But that was mostly thanks to the lack of confidence the experience with Lisa had caused in him. The last three months had healed some of that, just not all of it.

Dean guided the Impala down the winding streets, following the SUV to the safe house. It wasn’t much—a house nestled in a normal-looking neighborhood. It was supposed to feel… secure, but Dean couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t far enough, wasn’t safe enough, even if there were bars on the windows. Not when the Vaughts were involved and lived in this particular city.

Dean parked the Impala in the garage, his eyes scanning the area, watching the FBI agents file out of the SUVs and do their checks. Benny was already out, stretching his limbs, but Dean lingered behind, glancing at her through the rearview. She hadn’t moved. She was staring out the window, but he could feel it—her anxiety ramping up, coiling tighter and tighter around her chest.

He sighed and got out of the car, walking around to her door. When he opened it, she didn’t even flinch. Lost in her thoughts again. He hated seeing her like this, and it made his chest ache, knowing how hard she was trying to hold it together.

“Hey,” Dean said softly, crouching down beside her. His voice was gentle, meant to help ground her. “I won’t let anything happen to you. It’ll be alright.”She looked up at him with that shaky, tired smile, and he felt that surge of protectiveness, stronger than before. He wanted so badly to take all this weight off her shoulders, but he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t go back and change the past for either of them. All he could do was be here for her now.

“I know. Doesn’t seem to stop me from worrying,” she admitted quietly, her voice so soft he almost missed it.

Dean stood up, holding out his hand to help her out of the car. Her hand was cold when it slid into his, and he gave it a gentle squeeze before they both walked toward the house. She still felt so far away, like she was locked behind some wall he couldn’t break through.

As Benny walked ahead, Dean exchanged a look with him—one that carried the weight of everything they didn’t have to say out loud: Watch her. Don’t let her out of your sight. Benny nodded, but the movement was so slight that if she’d been paying attention, she would have seen it. 

Dean watched her follow Benny inside as he went to the trunk to grab their bags. He didn’t trust this situation. Six FBI agents were nothing to the Vaughts’ best men. On paper, everything always looked legit, legal. But off the books, the Vaughts’ main security team were trained killers who didn’t have to follow the law, they knew how to cover their tracks and make it look like an accident.

He quickly made his way inside, taking a quick stock of the layout. The agents were already moving around, setting up more equipment, and ensuring the place was secure. It felt too clinical for Dean’s liking, too impersonal, but there was no time to dwell on it. It was their job to focus on the technical stuff, not comfort the terrified woman now heading toward the hallway. So, he’d do what they couldn’t, what he’d been doing since the night she found the letters from her parents. With bags in hand, he silently followed her as she looked around. All the while, he made mental notes of how the little house was laid out, any possible exits or places someone could get in if they really wanted to. He paused in the doorway of the room she’d gone into, just watching her.

She looked so small standing there, and he felt her fear spiking again. He sighed, almost silently before pulling the door closed, accidentally causing her to jump, which he instantly felt bad about. Dean set the bags down on the floor near the closet before going over to her and pulling her into his arms. Feeling her melt into him without hesitation as he held he, resting his chin on the top of her head, helped him relax a little.

“I know this is hard,” he murmured, his fingers running through her hair, slow and soothing. He could feel the tremors in her body, the fear threatening to swallow her whole. “But I’ll be here, every step of the way,” 

“I’m just scared,” she whispered against his chest, and Dean felt a sharp stab of pain in his heart. I know, Sweetheart. I feel it too. Something he couldn’t tell her, not yet.

He had felt her mark already bothering her almost five minutes ago but had hoped it would ease off, like it had other times. However, when she hissed like she did, he reluctantly pulled away so he could dig the cream out of his bag. Dean then gently led her over to the bed before sitting next to her. He focused on his task, but being this close to her, his mind always wandered a little.

This time, it was different, though, and the moment he moved her shirt out of the way to apply the cream, he froze. The last letter had completely come in; a lowercase ‘n’ was sitting there, plain as day. Had she seen it yet? Did she even know?

“What?” she asked him, the curiosity and confusion swimming in her eyes again at his hesitation.

Her question had quickly pulled him from his thoughts. “Nothing, sorry,” he mumbled, taking the same care he always did as he applied the cream to her mark and then fixed her shirt. Dean knew she hated it when he did that, but he didn’t want to add to her already overwhelming emotions to tell her that one of the letters had come in all the way.

Dean got up and began unpacking their things, trying to focus on the task. Her emotions and whispered thoughts were almost enough to distract him completely. “Sitting there worrying about what-ifs isn’t going to make them go away. It’s just going to stress you out more,” and me, he told her in hopes that she’d at least try to relax.

She sighed, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know. I just… I can’t seem to make it stop, the thoughts.”Dean’s chest tightened. He hated hearing her like this. He could feel the weight of it pressing on her, the endless loop of anxious thoughts, and he wished more than anything that he could pull her out of it. “Well, we’ve got internet again,” he offered, hanging up his suit. “We could always watch something that’s newer than what was back at your place.”He didn’t miss the way her eyes barely registered the dress he hung up next to his suit, a dress she hadn’t even noticed he packed for her for court. Her mind had as elsewhere.

“But, the agents…” she began to argue, her voice soft but edged with worry.

Dean turned to face her, a soft smile finding his lips with the idea he’d been toying with. “So, we’ll bring the TV in here.”He could feel the hesitation in her, the way her thoughts flickered between the agents outside, and her own sense of unease. “What about Benny?” she asked, glancing up at him.

Dean shrugged, sitting beside her on the bed. “If you don’t mind the company, he probably wouldn’t mind joining us.”She fell quiet again, looking down at her hands. He could feel the questions bubbling up in her mind, the ones she didn’t ask out loud. And then, finally, she spoke. “Why did Benny stop being short with me after you started working at the garage?”He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew that question had been on her mind for a while. “I told him the truth,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “As much as I could, at least. He’d honestly like to get to know you if you were willing.”When she looked up at him, there was that familiar flicker of curiosity in her eyes, the one that meant she was piecing things together, like a puzzle. He could feel her desire to know more, but he also knew that he could only give her so much at a time. It always seemed like every time he thought he had the opportunity to give her more information, she would either find something new or something would happen, and he’d have to wait longer. 

“It might be nice to have more than just one friend,” she said with a quiet chuckle.Dean smirked, trying to lighten the mood again. “What if I don’t want to share you with other people?” he teased playfully, wanting only to help her relax, but secretly missed her smile, her laughter.

She giggled, and the sound filled him with warmth. “What? Want to keep me all to yourself or something?” she teased back, just as playfully, her mood finally lifting.

“Nope,” he grinned, leaning in a little. “Gonna keep you all to myself.”For a moment, it felt normal. The teasing, the banter—it was what he loved most about being around her, how she helped ease the war of emotions and thoughts within himself, bringing him a peace even with everything still going on. But then the knock on the door pulled her attention, Dean recognizing it instantly.

“Come in, Benny,” Dean called, causing her to look up at him confused, which he found adorable.

“The, uh, agents want to see the two of you,” Benny said, his voice steady, but Dean could feel the tension spike in Y/N instantly. Her heart raced, and the familiar thread of anxiety tightened in her chest.

“Come on, Sweetheart,” Dean said softly, taking her hand. He squeezed it gently, offering what comfort he could as he led her into the living room. He could feel how nerve-wracking the entire situation was for her, even if these agents were supposed to be able to protect her. It just didn’t feel like it was enough.

The living room looked like a makeshift command center, and even though Dean’s stomach twisted with worry, he was impressed at their set-up. Every window had two different views, as did every door. There were even two cameras focused inside the garage, as well as outside. He knew what they were watching for, though—it was the same thing he was worried about and why he couldn’t fully relax.

“On the morning of your hearing, we’ll be leaving very early. You and Mr. Winchester will be in one vehicle with three agents. Not only is the house under surveillance, but we have agents stationed in key locations. You’ll make it to your hearing,” one of the male agents explained in that business tone agents tended to use. Dean didn’t even bother learning all their names.

When the agent called him “Mr. Winchester,” Dean couldn’t help but groan. “Can you just call me Dean? Every time you say, Mr. Winchester, all I can think of is my father.”“Sorry, Mr. Winchester, protocol,” the agent replied, and Dean sighed, catching Y/N’s stifled giggle.

The sound eased some of the tension in his chest, though, like it always did. He glanced at Benny, who was also trying not to laugh. “Fine,” Dean muttered, turning to Benny. “Help me move the TV to Y/N’s room.”As they set up the TV, Dean’s mind kept flickering between the task at hand and her. He could feel the shift in her emotions as she watched them, but something else lingered beneath the surface. Something more. When he finished, he noticed her looking at the bed, lost in her thoughts again.

“You’re in your head again,” he said, his voice soft but knowing. She turned, trying to brush it off. “No. I was just trying to figure out what side of the bed I was going to sleep on.”Dean chuckled, knowing that was only a piece of what had been circling through her head. “Pretty sure that’s not all that’s running around in that pretty little head of yours.” He already knew she was apprehensive about the two of them crawling in bed together. Dean had only climbed into her bed on the nights she had nightmares. They’d never deliberately cuddled to fall asleep together before. He couldn’t even tell her that he wanted to hold her, wanted to feel her drift off to sleep in his arms.

While Benny grabbed a chair from the kitchen, Dean climbed onto the bed beside her, then slid his arm around her and pulled her close. Feeling her snuggled up against him helped relieve most of the tension he had been feeling all day, letting out a contented sigh. He also felt her relax, her body sinking against his as the weight of the day began to melt away. His thumb traced slow, comforting circles on her shoulders, helping to relax her further.

“You two are kinda cute,” Benny teased when he came back into the room, but Dean just shot him a look, knowing he couldn’t tell him outright to keep his mouth shut. Benny knew it all, he just couldn’t help but comment on the two of them. They looked like they belonged together, and Benny wished in that moment, that things had been different for her, that her mark had come in when she turned sixteen. He also felt like an utter ass for treating her the way he had over the years.

Dean flipped through the channels until he found Scooby Doo—something light, something familiar that they hadn’t been able to watch while in the bunker. His attention drifted between the cartoon and her, her body warm and soft against his. Her mind, however, was quiet now. He could feel her focus on the TV, on his heartbeat, and his breathing. He knew she was trying not to dwell on Wednesday or the hearing, and for now, she was mostly relaxed, finally.

That night, the agents ordered pizza—nothing fancy, but enough for everyone. Dean grabbed a couple of slices, trying to push aside the constant, low hum of her anxiety that had been pressing against his mind since the pizza man had knocked on the damn door. It had even put him and Benny both on instant alert. Dean loved how strong Y/N was but hated that she kept trying to put on a strong face and pretend everything was okay. 

It wasn’t, and he could feel it from her.

After dinner, when she went to change into her pajamas, Dean’s eyes followed her, at least until the door to the room closed. She was thinking about it again, about the two of them sharing a bed, deliberately. He wasn’t even sure exactly how to ease her nervousness and anxiety, but he did have an idea. He’d do what he did when they would cuddle and watch movies, keep it friendly and not weird, and be the rock she needed him to be.

Dean took a bite of another slice of pizza, his gaze on the pizza box on the table, but he wasn’t truly looking at it. His mind was focused on her, trying to make out the whispers that teased him and were just out of reach of being able to hear. The moment he swallowed his bite, a scream tore through the small house. His heart slammed in his chest as he spun around, eyes immediately darting to her door as his body followed the motion his eyes had taken. “Y/N!”

The agents were faster, though, and he was being held back by two of them as four of them burst through her door like a SWAT team. Guns drawn, two of them pulled her back while the other two began checking the closet, the window—everything. Dean was trying to move, needing to get to her. When the two agents had her in the hallway, the two holding Dean back finally let go, and he pulled her into his arms.

He held her tight, feeling the tremor in her body, the way her hands clutched at his shirt like he was her lifeline. Benny appeared at his side, but Dean didn’t spare him a glance, his focus was solely on her. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, trying to calm her, but it wasn’t enough. He could feel the storm inside her, the fear spinning out of control. “Hey, hey, I got you,” he whispered. “You’re okay.” Dean knew she probably hadn’t heard a word he’d said but knew that his voice had helped soothe her before.

“What happened?” one of the agents asked, but Dean kept his arms around her.

“There was someone outside my window,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She was still shaking, and Dean felt her pulse pounding erratically against him.

The moment the agents gave the all-clear for the room, Dean led her back inside, not letting go. He could feel how fragile she was in this moment, how close she was to breaking. She needed him to be her rock, not go off on the agents for their incompetence at not paying attention to the cameras, not seeing this, and keeping it from happening. 

“You’re alright,” Dean murmured, his voice low and soothing, though he felt anything but calm. His chest was tight, his own anxiety and anger bubbling up. The Vaughts knew where she was, and that terrified him in a way that was almost paralyzing. But he had to be strong right now, for her. “Benny, grab the whiskey you brought,” Dean told him when Benny leaned on the doorframe.

Benny gave him a look, but he didn’t argue, leaving to get it, and quickly returned. “I was savin’ that.”

Dean looked over at him, pleading silently, “I know, but she needs something,” he said, his voice rough with emotion as he took the bottle Benny held out for him, knowing Dean was right.

Dean carefully led her over to the bed and helped her sit down before he finally let go of her, but stayed close. He could feel how bad she was trying to keep it together, to be strong, but he knew she was terrified of her nightmare becoming real. He popped the top of the whiskey just as she looked up at him. The fear in her eyes mirrored what he felt from her.

“I feel bad—” she started, her voice small, vulnerable.

Dean shook his head, cutting her off gently. “You need something to calm your nerves and get some sleep.” holding the bottle out for her to take.

He watched her shoulders slump, thankful she wasn’t going to argue with him on this one. She knew he was right. She sighed and took a drink, winching as the whiskey burned down her throat. Dean’s hand stayed on her back, rubbing slow, comforting circles as Benny took the chair from earlier out of her room and closed the door, leaving the two of them alone.

After a couple more shots, she handed the bottle back to him, her movements slower now, her nerves starting to settle. “Thanks,” she mumbled, her voice softer than before.

Dean set the bottle aside but continued rubbing her back. He could feel her focus on her breathing, feel her anxiety and fear slowly dissipate, and her heart rate slowly even out again. He knew her fear wasn’t going to go away, not completely. It hadn’t even fully gone away back in the bunker, thanks to that nightmare of hers. When he finally stood up to change for bed, he felt her anxiety spike again, the familiar sensation tugging at his chest.

“It’s alright,” Dean reassured her, keeping his voice soft. “I’m just gonna get ready for bed.” He knew how much it took for her to feel comfortable, and tonight, everything had gone sideways.

He did take note of how she looked away from him when he changed, and it made him smile, just a little. A small gesture of respect even though she wanted nothing more than for him to wrap her in his arms and feel safe again. Once changed, he went over and pulled the blankets back, letting her pick the side she’d feel the most comfortable on.

Dean watched her movements, seeing how there was still a slight tremble in her hands before she laid down as far from the window as she could. He slid into bed behind her, pulling the blankets over them. She was so far over on the bed that she was lying almost on the edge of it. He let out a quiet sigh before wrapping his arms around her and gently pulled her against his chest. 

He felt the way her body relaxed against his—something she needed but hadn’t allowed herself to give into and ask for—the comfort, safety, and peace that only being held by your soulmate brought. Dean let out a quiet sigh of relief, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing. Her emotions slowly quieted, that storm inside her finally calming. She didn’t even know that he felt the same as she did, being soothed all the way to his soul.

“Get some sleep, Sweetheart,” he whispered, giving her a gentle squeeze.

She sighed, the sound soft and content. “You too, Dean.”As her breathing evened out, Dean stayed awake a little longer, feeling her peace mix with his own. I’ll always love you, even if you don’t choose me. He felt her drift off to sleep, and a small, yet loving smile toyed at his lips. Dean reached up and gently slipped her hair behind her ear before resting his hand on her side, just above her hip. Tonight, he’d keep her safe, shield her from her nightmares and the waking world. Before he knew it, though, he, too, fell into a peaceful sleep. It was different to fall asleep with her in his arms like this instead of calming her from a nightmare, and he was looking forward to the next two nights or however many he would get while they had to stay in Cali.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 24

Story Master List Main Master List

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If I missed tagging, please let me know. I had a lot of requests for tags for this one. If you'd like to be tagged, drop me a comment.

[leeknot]

Chapter 2: Threads of Control

Previous | Next

It started small, almost unnoticeable. A seat saved in class, a casual wave in the hall, a thoughtful remark about something you didn’t recall telling Heeseung. To you, it was friendly and charming, the kind of attention one might appreciate from a kind-hearted classmate.

To Heeseung, it was strategy.

He had learned everything he could about you in the past weeks, from your favorite snacks to the rhythm of your daily schedule. He knew where you liked to sit during lunch, which books you borrowed from the library, and even the way you adjusted your bag strap when you were nervous. These small details were etched into his mind like pieces of a puzzle, each one slotting into place to complete the picture of you.

But Heeseung didn’t just want to observe. He wanted to weave himself so deeply into your life that there would be no escaping him.

---

The first step in his plan was subtle infiltration.

Every morning, Heeseung would make sure to arrive early at school, strategically positioning himself in spots where he could "accidentally" run into you. At first, it was the gates.

"Good morning, Y/N." he greeted you one crisp autumn morning, his smile as warm as the rising sun.

You blinked in surprise but quickly smiled back. "Morning, Heeseung. You're here early."

"Just a habit," he replied casually. "What about you?"

"Same. I like having a quiet moment before the day gets hectic."

He filed that away, his smile widening slightly. "It’s nice, isn’t it? Peaceful."

Over the next few days, he made it a point to arrive at the gates before you. By the time you noticed the pattern, it felt natural. Heeseung simply belonged in your mornings, his presence a constant, reliable start to your day.

---

The second step was creating reliance.

Heeseung had always been top of the class, but now he used his academic prowess as a tool to deepen his connection with you.

"Hey, Y/N," he said one afternoon, sliding into the seat beside you in the library. "How’s the project coming along?"

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Not great. I’m stuck on the data analysis part."

"Let me help," he offered without hesitation.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding gratefully. "That would be amazing. Thank you."

What began as a one-time favor quickly turned into a regular occurrence. Heeseung’s explanations were clear and patient, his tone never condescending. He made you feel capable, even when you struggled.

But with every solved problem, he subtly tightened his grip.

"You’re lucky I was here," he joked one day, his tone light but his eyes intense. "Imagine if you had to figure this out alone."

You laughed, not catching the undercurrent in his words. "Seriously, I’d be lost without you."

Heeseung’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. Exactly.

---

The third step was subtle sabotage.

Your growing popularity had made you the center of attention in class, drawing the admiration of many. Heeseung watched as others laughed at your jokes, sought your help, and invited you to hang out. He hated it.

The first time he overheard someone planning to ask you to a group outing, he felt his stomach churn with anger. He knew he couldn’t openly confront them—he wasn’t ready to reveal his hand. Instead, he acted from the shadows.

He started spreading quiet, untraceable rumors. Harmless at first—just enough to make others wary of approaching you.

"I heard Y/N doesn’t like crowds," he mentioned offhandedly to a group planning a party. "They prefer smaller gatherings."

"Oh, really? Maybe we shouldn’t invite them, then."

Heeseung felt a surge of satisfaction.

But as the weeks passed, his methods became bolder.

He "accidentally" misplaced notes or misinformed classmates who sought your help, ensuring they’d blame you for their struggles. He sent anonymous messages to your closest friends, sowing seeds of doubt and mistrust.

By the time you noticed the shift, you were already feeling isolated.

"People are acting weird." you confided in Heeseung one evening as you walked home together.

His brows furrowed in concern. "Weird how?"

"Like... distant. I don’t know. Maybe I’m imagining things."

Heeseung shook his head. "You’re not. People can be so petty sometimes. But don’t worry—I’m here for you."

You smiled weakly, grateful for his support.

---

One chilly morning, you arrived at your desk to find a small, beautifully wrapped package. A note was attached, written in elegant handwriting:

"For someone who brightens my day more than they know."

Your heart warmed at the thoughtful gesture.

"Wow, who’s the mystery admirer?" a classmate teased.

You shrugged, your cheeks flushing. "No idea."

Heeseung watched your reaction from across the room, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. You didn’t need to know it was from him—not yet. All that mattered was planting the seed of affection, making you feel special in a way only he could.

---

But obsession is a dangerous thing, and even the most careful plans can unravel.

One evening, as you left the school library, you felt the strange sensation of being watched. Turning quickly, you caught a shadowy figure disappearing around the corner.

"Hello?" you called out, your voice trembling slightly.

There was no response.

The incident left you unsettled, but you tried to shake it off. It was probably just a student heading home, you reasoned.

What you didn’t know was that Heeseung had been following you, unable to resist the pull of seeing you outside the confines of school. He cursed himself for being careless, for letting you sense his presence.

But the thrill of knowing how close he had been to you made it impossible to stop.

---

One rainy afternoon, as you walked home, an unexpected figure joined you.

"Hey, Y/N." Heeseung called out, holding an umbrella over both of you.

You smiled, relieved to see a familiar face. "Thanks, Heeseung. You didn’t have to."

"It’s nothing," he replied, his voice soft. "I couldn’t let you walk home alone in this weather."

The conversation was light, filled with laughter and shared stories. For a moment, you felt at ease, unaware of the storm brewing beneath Heeseung’s calm exterior.

As you parted ways, Heeseung stood in the rain, watching until you disappeared from view.

"I won’t let anyone take you from me." he whispered, his voice a mix of devotion and determination.

---

taglist : @babygirlskz98

[cozmicwonder]

He Loves me, She Loves me Not

A/n -This is a college AU where curses don’t exist nor do sorcerers. Warning: Strong language, bullying, pain

“Why are you staring? Is there something on my face?” The sound of fingers snapping in your ear brought you out of your trance. “What?” The word came out quieter than anticipated. Maki scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“You’re staring into space again, what’s going on up there?” She asks as her hand forms a fist and knocks against your head. Pushing her hand away, you take a step back. “Instead of talking about me. We should talk about you!” You say putting on a smile as the words fall from your lips.

Maki being Maki shuts it down immediately “No”. She says blankly, you sigh and wave her off. “Do you have any other classes today?” You’d ask curious as you pull out your phone to check if you had any remaining classes after 5 p.m.

“No, I'm free the rest of the day. I'm planning on hanging out with Panda today. Wanna join?” she peers at you questioningly awaiting an answer. You frown slightly, “Can’t… I have another class to get to at 5:56” It was a very specific number, but I didn’t make the rules.

It was currently 5:24 p.m. “Bummer” You roll your eyes at her “Whatever…I should get going if I want to be able to pick a good seat.” You give Maki a quick hug then wave goodbye as you descend the hall. It was a Saturday afternoon and not many students were here. Students liked having classes in the morning, so the rest of the day was theirs.

You passed several lecture halls and classes on your way to your lecture. Figuring it would be a good idea to use the bathroom before you were stuck in an hour-and-a-half lecture having no way to pee. Making a right at the end of the hall instead of a left.

After making a few more turns you’d finally made it to the restroom. Sighing in relief at the sight of the bathroom entrance, you walk closer and see a male figure leaning up against the girl's bathroom wall. The boy had his head down so you couldn’t see his face.

As if he read your mind, the boy lifted his head then it hit you. It was Yuta Okkotsu…The boy who made your high school year a living hell. The memories of your second year in high school flooded your brain.

A large hand gripped my hair carelessly and roughly, forcing my head up. My eyes seal shut in sudden pain at the top of my head. I wince in pain, my head pounding from the harsh grip. I could make out the sounds of giggling, picture taking, recordings, and familiar voices of my peers. “Open your eyes Bitch”..Bitch… A word I’d grown all too familiar with during my second year of high school.

When my eyes didn’t open immediately, a cruel hand met the left side of my face, it left a stinging sensation. My eyes opened just enough to see the girl in front of me. Rika…. Rika was the girlfriend of Yuta. They were titled the Power Couple. Yuta was someone you’d call a bad boy. One whom you couldn’t get close to. Rika was a Regina George. God, I hated her… No one would understand how much I wanted her ending to end up like Regina's. Unfortunately, life isn't a movie.

Soft slim fingers grip my cheeks and pull my head up forcing eye contact. “Pathetic” The word was followed by the spray of saliva. I tried to turn my head away but the hand on my face wouldn’t let me. I was fighting everything in me to not cry, not willing to give her such satisfaction. “I’d think twice before talking to my man again before you go and talk to him trying to hoe yourself around…remember this”.

All this happened because she caught me and her boyfriend in an empty class together. He had dragged you in there after class to continue his previous harassment. Her fingers pushed my head away, and the grip on my hair loosened and I fell to the floor. I let out a long breath I didn’t know I was holding. “I’d never hoe myself around, especially not to your garbage of a boyfriend.”

my eyes met hers as the words fell from my mouth. A large foot pressed down on my back forcing me closer to the ground. Causing me to gasp. Rika giggled and left the room.

Soft slim fingers grip my cheeks and pull my head up forcing eye contact. “Pathetic” The word was followed by the spray of saliva. I tried to turn my head away but the hand on my face wouldn’t let me. I was fighting everything in me to not cry, not willing to give her such satisfaction. “I’d think twice before talking to my man again before you go and talk to him trying to hoe yourself around…remember this”.

All this happened because she caught me and her boyfriend in an empty class together. He had dragged you in there after class to continue his previous harassment. Her fingers pushed my head away, and the grip on my hair loosened and I fell to the floor. I let out a long breath I didn’t know I was holding. “I’d never hoe myself around, especially not to your garbage of a boyfriend.”

my eyes met hers as the words fell from my mouth. A large foot pressed down on my back forcing me closer to the ground. Causing me to gasp. Rika giggled and left the room.

Dangerous blue eyes stared at you directly, as if staring into your soul. Your breathing was shagged and heavy. Heart pounding. Praying he couldn’t hear you. You couldn’t bring yourself to blink…. scared that if you did he’d end you. Your throat felt tight and your mouth went dry. The grip on your phone was so tight your knuckles were turning white.

His mouth parted to speak but someone had interrupted him before he could. The two of you broke eye contact to look at the person. Rika…” Of course they’re still together,” you think to yourself. Rika was speaking but you didn’t care to listen, you learned to drown her out years ago. Yuta’s attention was on Rika, so you took the opportunity to quickly slip away. When his eyes went back to the stop you were last. You were gone.

You sprinted down the university halls, forgetting all about the upcoming lecture. You burst through the entrance finally stopping and catching your breath. “No, no, NO! Please don’t let this be real...” Tears threaten to fall, and your throat tightens. “Please. Please” the words come out shallow.

Quickly unlocking your phone with trembling hands, you texted Miwa asking if you two could meet at a local coffee shop. “Please don’t be busy. Please,” you say while biting your nails in anticipation.

‘…’ the bubbled dots on the screen of your phone were jumping as if to taunt you. You try to calm yourself down and steady your breath by taking deep breaths and slowly count to 10. You unlock your phone once more and see Miwa texted you back.

“Of course, I’m 5 minutes out so now should be fine. See you soon! :)” You let out a short breath. Thanking whoever answered your prayer. Not wasting another second, you rush down the stairs of the building and begin your journey to the coffee shop.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arriving off campus to the small city by the campus you make your way to the coffee shop. Pushing the doors open rather quickly, eyes scan the area for the blue-haired girl. Miwa spotting you first waves a hand and calls you over. You smile and make your way over to her. You pulled her into a hug and nearly broke down in her arms. Miwa being the sweetheart of me sensed something was wrong.

That and you were hugging her extremely tight. “What's wrong y/n?” she says pulling back from the hug and guiding you to the other open seat at the table. “He…He’s back” Words coming out quietly. She looks at you confused. “Who…Who’s back?” You look her square in the eyes “Yuta is back, and he’s attending the same college as me” Miwa's mouth drops, and her hand quickly covers it.

Concern is written all over her face and sympathy is evident in her eyes. Just as you were about to say something a waiter interrupted you. He slid a piece of paper onto the table, and it read “Hello, what can I get you, ladies, today”. you looked at the paper confused then you looked up. Horror was written on your face now, confused long discarded. The eyes that were staring down at you were a beautiful purple, like that of a wisteria tree. Those were the same purple eyes that stared at you empathetically at your bruised body all those years ago.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/n- I’m thinking of making this into a series, should I? Please do give constructive criticism. I'm always looking for ways to improve. Do leave feedback, thank you for reading.

[hyucksos]

after rain, comes sunshine — huang renjun [preview]

pairing: huang renjun x f!reader genre: coffee shop au, 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.

[suneslvr]

Hello, good afternoon? (I'm using the translator) Sorry for the inconvenience but I would like to place an order. Dazai and chuuya (aside) with a Fem!reader who can't sleep without them, waits until late at night for them to come home from work because he can't sleep without them because he watches horror videos and because of anxiety. Thank you very much for reading me! I hope it was understood.

sleepless nights...

warnings: anxiety, mentions of a panic attack, obsidian: (dazai x f!reader), (chuuya x f!reader) :: reader stays up all night watching horror movies and now they can't go to sleep without their boyfriend <33 notes. not proofread (lol). sfw + this is a really cute request!!

% - DAZAI

_______ He has a pretty dangerous job even though he makes it seem like it's a basic office job, so when you tell him about your fears, he simply shrugs it off and changes the subject. Even when he has to leave in the morning, you can't help but think that something terrible is going to happen to him and at any moment you'll get a call saying he won't be coming back home. Well one day during work, one of your younger coworkers showed you this youtube channel with scary "true" stories and to be honest, it's quite addictive. So now you're at home at 12.00am waiting for Dazai, while 80 different things are going through your mind. Your so freaked out that you text dazai to come home and that it's urgent, and when he does and finds out it was because stupid youtube videos. He'll never let you live it down, of course he'll comfort you, but not without slipping some jokes in here and there. He'll even go through the videos and point out everything fake in it (he actually thinks this helps but he's kinda just forcing you to rewatch them). He'll also keep note on how scared you are when he isn't home and will try to come home a little earlier but theres no way he'll tell you that.

% - CHUUYA

_____________ due to his job, it's hard not to worry about his safety during the day, and especially at night. He knows this and has tried to reassure you by reminding you about his ability, but it never works. It makes it even worse that he comes home at the unholiest of times, and one day while you were attempting to stay up for him, you decide to put on a movie called "resident massacre" In your defense, you didn't realize it was a horror movie (you were half asleep and drunk on energy drinks). But once the movie starts to play, you realized that this was not a normal movie, and you wouldn't say you can be easily freaked out. But the way your home alone, your neighbors hate you, and your pretty sure they've been plotting on you since the beginning isn't exactly helping. Well, on the good side, at least you know you won't be going to sleep anytime soon. But on the other hand, you still haven't fixed your back doors lock. In the midst of your panic attack, you can hear your front door creak open. you arm yourself with a pillow and walk carefully to the front door. When the door opens fully, and reveals your tired out boyfriend, you drop the pillow and immediately fall into his arms. He seems happy for the attention although slightly confused on why your still awake and almost beat him with one your decorations. you're holding on to him so tightly, he doesn't even want to ask. Instead, he just looks at the mess of your living room filled with energy drinks and half eaten granola bars. "Baby, I know you were worried for me, but you really don't have to do... this." He looks back down at you with worried eyes just to be met with your sleeping face.

send me requests <33

[noneedtoamputate]

Flyboys and Flirting

I had a chat with @shoshiwrites earlier this week after seeing this photo of Callum Turner in a turtleneck (thanks @hogans-heroes for doing God's work.) I blame her entirely for my Bucky Egan obsession. Like Ellen, I am not one to like the bad boys, but there is something about him and his character development during Masters of the Air that got to me. I tagged the photo with something like Chuck wouldn't mind Ellen taking off her sunglasses to check Bucky out, and Shoshi said no one deserves to look that good in a turtleneck. Based on our chat, here's a little fun one-off I wrote about Colonel Egan stopping by the tobacco store.

San Francisco

October 1957

Afternoons were usually quiet in the shop, a good chance to catch up on pesky tasks like organizing receipts for the accountant. He called Chuck last week, and Ellen saw the headache start behind Chuck’s eyes. Chuck hated anything to do with taxes.

She decided to get a babysitter for Friday and come into the shop for the day. They’d get everything sorted and then go out for dinner, just the two of them, as a reward for a solid day’s work.

They were in the back room, Chuck at the desk and Ellen perched on the counter next to the sink going over August’s purchases, when the bell above the front door rang.

Chuck sighed and rubbed his temple.

“You keep working. I’ll go out front,” she said as she hopped down, giving his shoulder a squeeze before walking out into the store.

Her eyes widened at what she saw. She forced her mouth to remain closed though her jaw wanted to drop to the floor. 

A curly-haired man with a mustache, aviators, and a bomber jacket, looking better in a turtleneck than any man had a right to, stood in front of the high-end cigars. He must have heard her footsteps, because he looked her way, took off the sunglasses, and flashed her a smile, a smile she knew he put on for everyone and had nothing to do with her.

This was a Bad Boy.

Ellen never had gone for the Bad Boys. She’d always liked the honor roll students, the boys next door. She suspected Chuck had gone through a Bad Boy stage, but by the time she met him, he owned the store and shaved every morning and parted his hair just so and was always on time to everything. 

Every once in a while, she wondered what it would have been like to be with a Bad Boy, the boy who kept her out past curfew or had a motorcycle or had a mustache that normally didn’t do anything for her but made her hot and bothered. 

She congratulated herself on wearing a pencil skirt and heels today instead of her usual shirtwaist dress and flats. 

“Can I help you?” she asked calmly as she walked toward him. 

“Yes, I think you can,” he said slowly, still smiling. “I should introduce myself. Colonel John Egan, United States Air Force.”

“Ellen Grant, co-owner of this store,” she said, shaking his hand. “Cigars, I see. What flavor are you looking for today?”

“Perhaps you can explain my options,” he said. 

Despite whatever game they were in the middle of, she wouldn’t play dumb. She went through what made each cigar different, whether they were flavored with sweet Mexican vanilla or spicy Indian pepper, how each one was rolled slightly differently and had different shapes and filters, affecting their taste. 

“Which one is calling you? Sweet or spicy?” she asked coyly, barely believing those words came out of her mouth.

“A little bit of both, I would say.” He lifted his eyebrows just a bit. “Let’s take a box of each.”

They walked over to the counter.

“I just flew into Hamilton Air Force Base last night for meetings. I’m sure my colleagues will enjoy these tonight,” he said. 

“I’m sure they will,” Ellen agreed. “Any cigarettes? Luckies or Chesterfields?”

He looked at her quizzically. “Luckies. How did you know?”

She laughed. “It’s my business. But for most officers, it’s one or the other.” She rang up two packs. 

They made small talk for a few minutes, about the store and his Pentagon desk job, but mostly about flying.

“You seem to know a lot about planes,” he said. He looked down at her finger, the one with the diamond ring on it. “Is your … co-owner a pilot?”

“Well, he was in planes, but he didn’t fly them. A paratrooper,” she explained.

He looked impressed. “The 82nd?” he asked. 

“No!” Ellen almost shouted. “The 101st.”

“Sorry,” John apologized.

“You should be. Those guys in the 82nd were a bunch of amateurs.” She grinned as she handed him the bag.

“Well,” he said, a little deflated at the prospect of leaving, “This has been a delight. Thank you, Mrs. Grant.”

And with that, the spell was over.

“Likewise, Colonel Egan. Enjoy your cigars and the rest of your trip.”

He smiled, nodded, and walked out the door without a second glance. 

Ellen turned around to walk into the back room when she saw Chuck, leaning against the wall, arms folded on his chest with an amused look on his face.

“What?” she innocently asked as she walked past him.

“You were flirting with that flyboy,” Chuck pointed out. 

“I was not!” Ellen could barely keep a straight face.

Chuck couldn’t, and he laughed out loud. “I heard the whole thing. God, it’s so predictable. All it takes is a pair of fancy sunglasses and a leather jacket and all the girls fall for it.” He shook his head. “Here I was thinking my wife would be better than that.”

“Oh,” she said, closing the gap between them and putting her hands on his shoulders. “Are you jealous?”

“Of that guy?” he asked incredulously. “Please.” 

Ellen tilted her head. 

“I’m not jealous, but nobody should look that good in a turtleneck,” he conceded.

She playfully hit him on the arm. “That’s what I thought!” she said.

“I’m not jealous,” he said again, grabbing her by her hips. “I’m the one who gets to do taxes with you and go out to dinner with you and go home with you,” He gave her a slow, sultry kiss. “When is the babysitter off duty?” he asked

“Nine o’clock. The kids should be asleep,” she sighed as he found the spot on her collarbone that she liked. 

“I hope so.” His hands left her hips and roamed lower. “No, I’m not jealous of that guy who is going to be smoking cigars with the brass tonight while I get to be with you.”

“You know, you can be bad, when you want to be,” Ellen remarked. 

“Very bad,” he agreed.

Ellen didn’t want a bad boy. She didn’t want a hotshot pilot with a mustache. But she liked knowing her clean cut, responsible husband who didn’t own a turtleneck could be bad if he wanted to be. That was enough for her.