#got the old cart out and scrubbed it down

[simplyghosting]

Well it only took my whole family leaving me home alone for 9hrs for me to get some of my own projects worked on 👍

[mercvry-glow]

Stay with me

parings. michael robinavitch x reader

warnings. age gap (michael early 50s, reader early 30s), traumatic birth, hospital setting, nobody dies, michael is mess and constantly stressed, other pitt characters, reader gets described as pale in a medical sense no mentions of outright skin color or hair type, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. this ones a doosey to make up for not writing for our sad boy! I love this and I'm happy I got to fulfill yet another request from you guys! I love y'all so much, and remember that all feedback is appreciated and to please enjoy!

wc. 3800+

Maybe coming into work at thirty-nine weeks pregnant wasn’t the best idea.

But you were stubborn. Always had been. And despite everyone—especially Robby—telling you to stay home, you couldn’t bring yourself to sit around waiting for labor like a ticking time bomb. You hated the stillness. The wondering. The endless scrolling and anxious pacing.

So here you were, waddling through the automatic doors of Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center like you weren’t a day past thirty weeks. Your badge still clipped to your belly, your sneakers swelling tighter by the hour, and your hair pulled into a bun that screamed "I tried... kind of."

“Seriously?” came Frank’s voice before you’d even made it to the nurses' station.

You didn’t even look up. “Good morning to you too.”

“You’re full term,” he said, falling into step beside you, black scrubs hugging his sturdy figure as per usual. “As in, literally any second now.”

You smiled at him over your shoulder, trying not to let the exhaustion show. “I’m fine. And I’m bored. Let me chart for a few hours. I’ll even sit down the whole time. Swear.”

“You know that’s a lie,” he shot back, snorting. “You’ll be helping lift gurneys and running labs by noon. Someone’s gonna find you chasing a trauma bed down the hallway.”

“Hey,” you said with a little huff, rubbing your back with one hand, “just because I’m growing a whole human doesn’t mean I forgot how to function.”

Frank just gave you a knowing look, which meant: we’ve all seen you trying to wedge yourself into the cafeteria chairs.

That’s when Robby appeared around the corner, clipboard in hand and eyes already narrowed. He didn’t even have to say anything—his expression screamed "Really?" Robby frowned, scanning you up and down. His hand hovered near your lower back, not quite touching but always close. “You shouldn’t be here.”

You tilted your head and gave him your most innocent look. “I’m on light duty. Promise.”

“I’d like to point out,” Langdon added, grinning as he peeled away toward the coffee cart, “that I tried.”

You plopped yourself into the nearest rolling chair with a dramatic sigh and swiveled toward Michael. “It’s either this or reorganizing the diaper drawer for the sixth time this week. I think the baby’s fine with me typing a few notes.”

Robby crouched down beside you, one knee on the floor like he did when checking patients, except this time his palm found your knee instead of a pulse point.

“You’re swollen. And your breathing is a little tight.” He raised an eyebrow. “How long were you on your feet this morning?”

“Like… twenty minutes.” You grinned. “That includes brushing my teeth and taking care of the dogs.”

He exhaled slowly, leaning his head against your leg. “You’re going to send me into cardiac arrest before this baby even gets here.”

You carded your fingers through his hair, soft and absentminded, brushing the strands back from his forehead. “You’re cute when you’re worried, old man.”

“I’m always worried,” he muttered. “Because you’re always doing something you shouldn’t.”

You didn’t argue. Mostly because he wasn’t wrong. You were already shifting, trying to pull up the electronic charts on the nurses’ station computer.

Michael gave your belly a light pat and stood, arms folding as he watched you with that quiet, hesitant fondness he reserved only for you. “Fine. Two hours. Feet up. You so much as sneeze weird, and I’m dragging you to OB myself.”

“Deal,” you chirped, already logging in.

“And don’t even think about stealing someone’s trauma case when we get slammed.”

“Define stealing,” you replied innocently, sipping from your water bottle.

He pointed a warning finger, but his smirk gave him away. “Two hours.”

“Love you too, Doctor Buzzkill.”

As he walked off, you caught the way his hand reached for the stethoscope around his neck, the subtle shake of his head as he glanced back at you one last time before disappearing toward the elevators.

And for a little while, everything felt normal. The steady rhythm of the hospital, the buzz of the morning shift changing hands, the rolling carts, the beeping monitors, and the casual banter of a team that had become a second home. You rubbed your belly gently, feeling a soft nudge from the baby in response.

Still here, still safe.

You leaned back in your chair and took a deep breath.

You had no idea how quickly everything was about to change.

The morning passed in a blur of keyboard clicks, routine charting, and the occasional pat on the shoulder from coworkers who either admired your stubbornness or questioned your sanity. Probably both.

Danabrought you a fruit cup and didn’t even bother hiding the fact that she was watching your ankles like a hawk. “You know,” she said while leaning against the edge of the station, “we’ve had patients come in for stubbed toes more dramatic than you being full-term and still here.”

You laughed softly, spooning pineapple into your mouth. “I just wanted one more shift. One more day of normal.”

“You’re due in three days,” she said, eyebrows raised. “You know what would be really normal? Not going into labor next to the trauma bay.”

You gave her a half-hearted glare, and she gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze before moving along.

By the time the clock read 10:47 a.m., you’d gone through two rounds of vitals checks, one baby name debate with the new ER nurse (“Mikey Jr.” was not happening), and an entire cup of crushed ice. You felt... okay. Tired, sure. Tight across the ribs, definitely. But okay.

The baby kicked again—this time a little stronger, enough to make you wince and shift in your chair. You rubbed at the spot, exhaling slowly as the muscles in your lower back pulled tight.

Normal. Probably.

You stood up to stretch, rolling your shoulders as your bladder reminded you it was still being squished by a watermelon-sized human. With one hand pressed to your back, you made your way toward the staff bathroom, waving off Frank’s dramatic offer to “escort the ticking time bomb.”

Inside, you braced your hands against the sink for a moment, catching your breath. That tightness across your middle was sticking around longer than you liked. Not a contraction exactly... but a pressure. Your reflection looked a little pale, a little drawn.

Probably just low blood sugar. Probably just tired.

You splashed cold water on your face, took a breath, and patted your belly like you were trying to reason with it.

“Let’s not do this here, kid,” you whispered. “Give me 'til at least lunch.”

The baby shifted again, slow and sluggish.

You frowned.

Back at the station, you tried to ignore the small twist of something off. Robby walked by on his way to check in with a patient and paused long enough to give your hand a squeeze. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t want him to worry—not yet. Not unless there was a real reason.

But deep in your chest, just under the hum of fluorescent lights and the steady rhythm of the hospital, a quiet unease began to grow.

You went back to your chair, sat down slowly, and propped your feet up on an overturned supply box Dana had dragged over earlier.

“Getting royal treatment now,” you murmured with a soft smile, stretching your fingers across your belly again. The pressure was still there—low and dull, like a cramp that hadn’t quite made up its mind. But you chalked it up to gravity. End-of-pregnancy things.

Michael passed through again, this time glancing at your chart on the screen. “You okay?” he asked casually, but his voice held that little edge, the one he got when he was reading between the lines of your smile.

“Yeah,” you said. “Just tired. Baby’s being clingy.”

He crouched down beside you again, resting his hands on your knees and gazing up at you like you were something fragile and wildly important. “You sure? You look a little pale.”

You shrugged. “I think my blood sugar’s just dipping. I’ll eat something real at lunch.”

Robby opened his mouth like he wanted to press the issue, but then his pager buzzed, pulling him back to the chaos. “Page me if anything feels off, okay?”

You gave him a thumbs up. “Promise.”

He kissed the inside of your wrist—gentle, a little rushed—and then disappeared down the hall.

You watched him go, your heart tugging in that quiet, familiar way. This wasn’t supposed to be dramatic. You were just going to stay a few hours. Get your fill of normal. Go home.

You reached for your water, took a sip, and then—

The pressure in your lower abdomen suddenly turned sharp.

Your breath caught.

It wasn’t stabbing, not yet—but it was wrong. Deep and spreading and foreign.

You shifted in the chair again, trying to ease the feeling, but this time it moved through your back too. A tight, radiating grip like something clenching from the inside.

Your hand instinctively moved to your belly. Still round. Still there. But... heavy. Heavier than before.

You stood up too fast and had to grip the edge of the desk for balance. A strange wave of heat flushed through your chest and ears.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself. “Okay. Not panicking.”

You turned toward the hall, planning to make your way down to OB—just to be safe—when a sudden gush of warmth rushed down your legs.

Your eyes dropped to the floor.

Blood. Not water… 

Not a trickle. Not a few reassuring spots.

A pool.

Everything stopped.

You opened your mouth, tried to call out for someone—Frank, Dana, Robby—but your throat closed up as your knees buckled.

A pair of arms caught you before the world tilted entirely sideways, voices shouting your name, feet pounding against tile.

And somewhere in the distance, your heart broke open in fear as someone screamed for a crash cart.

The world dulled around the edges.

Voices came in waves—too loud, then too soft. The fluorescents above you blurred into a single long smear of white as you blinked hard, trying to stay awake. You were lying flat now, someone barking orders just over your head, hands pressing against your belly. Something cold touched your arm. A tourniquet? IV? You didn’t know. 

You wanted to speak, but your tongue felt thick and heavy. The baby wasn’t moving. Or maybe you couldn’t feel it. You couldn’t tell anymore.

Where was Michael?

You turned your head slightly, reaching out blindly with a trembling hand. “R-Rob—”

And then everything went black.

On the other side of the Pitt the hallway was loud, as usual. One resident talking too fast, an alarm going off two bays over. Robby had just finished checking vitals on a pre-op trauma patient when the words cut through the noise like a blade.

“Code OB! Nurses’ station—she’s hemorrhaging!”

For half a second, it didn’t register. He stood frozen, pen in hand, until Dana’s voice came from behind—sharper now, more desperate as she ran past him.

“Robby—it’s her! It’s your girl, it’s—”

He dropped the pen. Took off running.

The world narrowed to tunnel vision, his shoes slamming the floor with every stride as he turned the corner.

And there you were.

Lying on the floor in a growing puddle of blood, too still, too quiet. Langdon was crouched beside you, white-knuckled and pale, while someone was trying to keep your airway open and shouting at a med tech for an O2 mask. Two OB nurses had already arrived from upstairs, trying to lift your limp form onto a gurney.

“Move—MOVE!” Robby’s voice cracked as he shoved between bodies, sinking to his knees beside you. His gloves were on before he could think.

“Talk to me,” he begged, brushing a blood-slicked hand over your cheek. “Baby, come on—hey, stay with me.”

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

He saw the blood again. The amount of it. His heart seized.

“She was complaining of tightness earlier,” Dana said quickly. “Didn’t think it was labor. She didn’t say anything about bleeding.”

“Placental abruption,” one of the OB nurses muttered grimly, already calling down to surgery. “We need to move now.”

“No.” Robby gripped your hand as they lifted your body onto the bed. “You hold on. You don’t get to—don’t you dare leave me.”

Your lashes fluttered weakly. It was the smallest thing, but it was enough to crack him wide open.

“I love you,” he whispered fiercely, pressing his forehead to yours as they wheeled the gurney away. “God, I love you. Just hold on. Please.”

The elevator doors slammed open, and then they were gone—your body rolling down the hall, trailed by shouting voices and the squeak of rubber wheels.

Robby stood frozen in the blood you left behind.

And he prayed—for the first time in years—that he wouldn’t lose the two people who had already become his whole world.

The observation room was too bright.

Too sterile. Too loud and too quiet all at once.

Robby sat hunched forward on the gallery chair, elbows on his knees, hands laced together so tightly his knuckles had gone white. His scrubs were stained—your blood, dried now—and he hadn’t moved to change them. It felt wrong. Like washing it off would be admitting something final. Like you were already gone.

The OR doors had closed over an hour ago.

Every minute stretched. He counted the seconds between every nurse that walked in or out of the room. Every ding, every beep, every sound made his chest seize like a vise.

“Dr. Robinavitch?”

He shot to his feet so fast the chair rattledagainst the floor.

It was one of the OB residents—a younger guy, fresh-faced, kind eyes. He looked nervous standing at the doorway. 

“The baby,” Robby said before the kid could speak. “Is he—?”

The resident gave a small, quick nod. “He’s stable—strong APGAR, breathing on his own. He’s in the NICU right now, just for monitoring because of the blood loss and delivery trauma, but he’s holding on great.”

Robby felt something like a breath stutter through his chest. A crack in the suffocating weight.

“A boy,” he repeated, voice cracking on the word. He scrubbed a hand down his face, the ache behind his eyes blooming all at once. “And she?”

The resident hesitated.

Robby’s stomach dropped like a stone.

“They’re still working on her,” he said carefully. “There was extensive bleeding. She lost a lot of volume and needed multiple transfusions. The placenta had fully detached. She coded once on the table but they got her back quickly—Dr. Jensen’s still in with her. They're doing everything they can.”

That familiar numbness swept in—cold and full of static. He’d seen this happen. He knew what these situations could look like. How fast they turned.

But this wasn’t just any patient.

This was you.

The woman who’d kept him steady when he didn’t know how to be. Who fought him and loved him and refused to be anyone but exactly who she was. This was the woman who carried his child, who still hadn’t heard that he made it. That their son made it.

“Can I see him?” Robby asked, quietly now, trying not to let his voice shake. “The baby?”

“Yeah,” the resident said, nodding. “I’ll take you myself.”

Robby glanced down at the gallery one last time.

“Hold on,” he murmured under his breath. “Please… just hold on.”

And then he followed, toward the small flicker of hope that looked an awful lot like a tiny newborn baby in a bassinet.

The NICU was soft with dim lighting and quiet beeps—worlds away from the chaos upstairs. Here, everything moved slower. Gentle. Careful.

Michael had scrubbed in without thinking, numb to the motions as the nurse guided him toward the far incubator. She was saying something—about weight, oxygen levels, bloodwork—but it barely registered.

All he could see was him.

His son.

Tiny. Swaddled in a sea of pale blue, a knitted cap covering his head, wires curling like vines across his chest. His skin was flushed pink, his breathing steady and strong, even with the tubes nearby just in case.

Robby stopped short a foot from the incubator.

“Go ahead,” the nurse said softly, nodding. “He’s yours.”

He stepped forward, one hand trembling as he reached out and pressed his now clean fingertips into the hole in the side of the incubator. Then he looked down through the clear plastic, and something in him shattered clean through.

“You’re here,” Robby whispered.

Not to anyone else. Not even to the nurse.

Just to him.

“You’re really here.”

His voice cracked. A tear slipped hot down his cheek. He swiped at it quickly, but it didn’t stop the next. Or the one after that.

“I thought we lost you,” he whispered, pressing his other palm fully to the side of the incubator now. “I thought—I thought I was going to lose both of you.”

The baby stirred slightly at the sound of his voice, his little face scrunching as if to acknowledge him.

Robby laughed—just a quiet breath of it. Barely more than a sound.

“You’ve already got a lot of fight in you,” he murmured. “Just like your mom.”

That cracked him open again. He dropped his head forward, resting it gently against the warm plastic as tears spilled freely now, all the fear and helplessness and love pouring out with no one around to see. No one to judge.

“She’s not out of it yet,” he said, so quietly it barely made it past his lips. “I don’t know how she’s doing….”

He swallowed hard.

“But I need her to be. You need her to be. So you just… hang on in there, little man. And I’ll hang on too.”

He stayed there for a long time. Just breathing. Just watching his son sleep, chest rising and falling with a steadiness Robby needed like oxygen.

And then—

“Dr. Robinavitch?”

A voice behind him.

He turned.

A nurse he didn’t recognize stood in the doorway, eyes soft but urgent. “They’re bringing her out of surgery now. She’s stable.”

Without knowing how long you were out the first thing you felt was the weight in your chest. Not pain—though there was plenty of that, dull and heavy through your midsection—but weight. Like your body had been filled with cement and someone was slowly peeling it away.

The second thing was the beeping.

Steady. Familiar.

A monitor. You’d heard that rhythm a thousand times, but this one felt… personal.

Then came the light. Too bright. You winced.

“Hey—hey, easy…”

A voice. Soft. Hoarse.

You knew it.

Your lashes fluttered as you tried again, squinting against the fluorescent ceiling until a shadow leaned into your frame of view. Hair mussed. Beard teased. Scrubs wrinkled. Eyes bloodshot but still such as deep warm brown. .

Robby.

He was sitting beside your bed, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees like he hadn’t moved in hours. Days maybe. His hand was already in yours.

“You’re okay,” he said quickly, blinking down at you with a thousand emotions all crashing in at once—relief, love, panic, exhaustion. “Jesus, baby, you’re—God, you scared the hell out of me.”

You opened your mouth, but your throat was too dry. All that came out was a rasp.

Robby was already up, pouring water and helping you sip from a straw with gentle, practiced hands.

When you finally managed a whisper, it was just one word. “Baby?”

His lips trembled around a smile.

“He’s okay,” Robby said, nodding, voice cracking as he set the cup aside and cupped your face with one hand. “He’s perfect. He’s tiny and loud and beautiful. They moved him to the nursery this morning but stable. Breathing on his own. He’s strong. Like you.”

You exhaled slowly, your body sinking back into the mattress with a kind of weak, aching surrender. The tears slipped out before you could stop them.

“I thought I lost him,” you whispered.

Robby shook his head. “No. You didn’t. You brought him into this world. You fought like hell.”

You looked up at him then, really looked, and saw the toll it had taken on him—the shadows under his eyes, the hollow in his cheeks, the scruff he hadn’t bothered to shave. He looked like a man who’d been holding his breath for days.

“You stayed?” you asked.

He gave a watery laugh. “I never left.”

And then he leaned down and kissed your forehead. Slow. Long. Like a prayer.

“You scared me,” he whispered into your skin. “More than anything in my life. Don’t ever do that again.”

You reached for him, weak and shaking but needing him close. He didn’t hesitate. He was there in your arms a second later, wrapped around you like a shield, like a lifeline. And for the first time in days, maybe weeks, you let yourself breathe.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed after that.

The pain meds kept you somewhere between floating and dreaming, and the monitors were a constant lullaby, but Robby never left. He was always there, holding your hand, brushing the hair from your face, whispering things you barely remembered.

But when the nurse finally came in, smiling softly and pushing a clear bassinet ahead of her, the world snapped back into focus.

“I thought you two might be ready,” she said gently.

You blinked hard, trying to sit up, but the ache in your abdomen stopped you short. Robby was already there, adjusting the bed, piling pillows behind you like he had done it a hundred times.

“Easy,” he murmured. “You’re still healing.”

But your eyes were locked on the tiny bundle being lifted into your arms.

And then—he was there.

Your son.

Wrapped in soft hospital blue, all fuzzy hair and wrinkled skin and the tiniest fingers you’d ever seen. He blinked up at you like the light was too much, his brow furrowed in confusion, and then he yawned—wide and slow—and settled against your chest like he already knew exactly where he belonged.

The breath hitched in your throat.

“Oh,” you whispered. “Oh, hi…”

Your voice broke on the word.

Robby was sitting on the edge of the bed now, his arm behind your back, his other hand smoothing over your son’s impossibly small shoulder.

“You made him,” he said softly, awestruck like he still couldn’t believe it. “We made him.”

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek as you gently ran your finger down your baby’s nose.

“He’s perfect,” you said. “He’s… ours.”

Robby kissed your temple and stayed there, his lips pressed against your skin as your son sighed in his sleep and curled closer.

You didn’t say anything for a long time.

There was just the three of you, tucked into a too-small hospital bed, held together by quiet breathing and trembling hands and the kind of love that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud to be felt in your bones.

This was certainly worth the pain. 

mercury-glow 2025

[glambots]

BUBBLE, BUBBLE, MOON'S IN TROUBLE

Moondrop/Reader

Rating: SFW

Wordcount: 5k

A commission for @semidemi-minigod !! In which you give Moon a bath. But from Moon's POV.

It was difficult to say when it all started.

When he’d allowed himself to become so complacent. So vulnerable.

It wasn’t an entirely pleasant feeling. But you made it easier. Somehow.

Even now, when all he wanted was to slink away into the dark, far away from your pleading eyes and pursed lips.

“Come on, Moon. Please? You can look at it all if you want to. I won’t stop you. It’s really good stuff. Like, expensive stuff.”

You moved around the cleaning cart, picking up and brandishing several different items in his direction, with all the nervous excitement of a salesman trying to land a deal.

His eyes moved over each object laid out, atop the cart’s surface. Towels, fluffy and white. Bottles of cleaning solutions. Metal polish. Different kinds of scrub brushes. A few toothbrushes…?

He didn’t recognize any of the brands, which meant that they came from outside the Pizzaplex.

“…You bought these?” Cautiously, he picked up one of the little canisters and held it between his thumb and forefinger, turning the balm canister round-and-round like it was an oversized coin.

Polish cream. The fancy aluminum tin flashed under the dim lights, like the spark of a distant star.

“Yeah, I got them all from a hardware place that was nearby.” You smiled, hands roving over the assortment to grasp one of the smaller hand towels. His head tilted a bit when you held it out to him, a lopsided smile gracing your flushed cheeks.

“Feel these! I swear, I have never felt towels as soft as these.”

Curiosity burning, Moon placed the polish back down and reached for the towel. He fingered the soft, fluffy fabric in a bit of awe. It was much nicer than the old, tattered rags they had stashed away in the Daycare. Cleaner, too.

“They’re Egyptian cotton.” Your grin grew wider. “I got you a couple of sets, so you can keep some in storage for when they each get worn out.”

“…Keep?”

“Well…yeah! I mean, they’re yours now.” You gestured at the whole of the collection. “All of this is. I mean, I can keep it if you don’t have any room. But this is all for you. You and Sun, I mean. Obviously.”

He looked back and forth between you and the cleaning cart, utterly bewildered.

And, more than that, suspicious.

“Why?”

He watched your expression twist into bemusement, before you sighed dramatically and rolled your eyes.

“Because I can.”

“What if we…don’t want it?” He couldn’t stop the hint of amusement that crept into his voice. Even if there was a little bit of truth to it. It felt…wrong to accept this.

You just pursed your lips, brows raising so high they nearly touched your hairline.

“Well, that’s too bad. Cause I already bought it, and the store won’t let me return it. Which means either you take it, or I’ll just throw it all away.”

He grunted, looking back over the collection.

“Liar-liar, pants on fire.”

“Nope!” You popped the “p,” giving him a little half-shrug. “I’ve got the receipt, and it says no refunds allowed. You wanna see it? I’ll show it to you.”

Moon grunted again, tapping his fingers rhythmically against his chin and cheek.

To take it…or not…

It would be a shame to let it all go to waste.

But! But. He had one more question to ask you.

“Why me? Why not Sun?”

He can’t help but spit the name with a bit of venom. Out of the two of them, wouldn’t Sun be the easier target? Easier to work with. Easier to talk to. A better fit.

Better…in every way.

The look you give him is hard to place. It’s not hurt, not pity…a little frustrated.

A little sad.

“Do you not…trust me?”

There it is again: that feeling of wanting to hide away. A little tickle of guilt burning through his wires and sliding between his gears. He didn’t like it when you looked at him like that.

“No.”

“No, you don’t trust me? Or no, you don’t not trust me?”

“…No.”

You sighed, pulling off the bear-eared cap on your head to run a hand through your already messy hair.

“Alright. Alright…I won’t force you to do it. I just…” You looked down at the cart, eyes misty and lip quivering a bit. Like you were trying not to cry. “I wanted to spend time with you.”

And like that, he feels something in him melt.

“Fine.” He folded his arms over his chest, as if they’d serve as any sort of defense. He hates the way his whole-body tickles with heat when the sadness on your face melts away into relief.

Because it’s unfamiliar. Different.

He knows for a fact that what he’s feeling is something that he’s not supposed to be able to feel.

And yet, you make him feel it.

And that frightens him.

“Make it fast.”

Guilt is there again, gnawing at his insides when you reach up to quickly wipe the rim of your eyes clear, a breathy laugh bubbling up from somewhere inside you. Just like that, you’re so happy.

“Alright! Okay. Okay. Um, I’ll start with the—I mean, what do you want me to start with? I’ve got all this stuff, and I didn’t even think about it. God, where do I start?”

Moon watches you flit around the cart, hands moving over each object in a frenzy. You finally look up after a moment, going still.

“Sorry. Just. Give me a second, I swear I know what I’m doing.” Your eyes move to the floor, like you’re searching for something. “Do you want to sit down?”

Silently, Moon reached behind him, grasping one of the small child-sized chairs, and pulled it out to sit on without breaking eye contact.

“Okay.” You chuckled, a rag in one hand, a bottle of cleaning solution in the other. He could feel the hesitancy in your movements as you approached, like you were afraid he’d bolt at any second. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

For a moment, you hesitated, as if trying to decide where and how to get started. Moon simply sat still, watching your hands and eyes shift from his face to his arms, to his chest, then back up.

“Hang on, I can’t do this kneeling—my back hurts too much for that.”

You grabbed an undersized chair and pulled it up across from him, gently taking one of his arms and spraying a light amount of the solution across it. Moon couldn’t detect any chemicals, but it did smell slightly…fresh?

“This is just water and soap,” you explained, gently running the rag across his forearm, rubbing it between his fingers and over his palm. “To get rid of the surface stains. After that, I’ll use the stronger stuff.”

For a moment, there was a silence that stretched between the two of you. He wasn’t sure if it was comfortable or not but was more than satisfied to simply watch your tiny hands work their way up and down his arm.

You swapped to the other arm, wiping it down gently from hand-to-shoulder, then paused.

“Do you want me to do your chest or back first?”

Your voice was soft, gentle and coaxing.

Moon looked down at his arms, flexing his fingers as he thought for a moment.

“…Back.”

“Alright.”

Carefully, you placed a hand on his shoulder for balance, running the washcloth over his broad back. Moon twitched, an odd tingle rushing through his wires at the sensation of your palm rubbing little circles around the spot where the hook to his line protruded. He tried to ignore it, but you stopped again, having noticed.

“Sorry, is that uncomfortable?”

“No.” He scrambled for an excuse. “…It tickles.”

“Oh.” From the corner of his eye, he could see a tiny smile cross over your face. “I didn’t know you were ticklish.”

“We’re not,” he replied, maybe a little too fast. “Just…sensitive.”

“Sure.” The tone in your voice betrayed that maybe you didn’t entirely believe him, but you didn’t push the issue. He was thankful for that.

The thought of your little hands coasting along his metal body, trying to find vulnerable spots to attack and manipulate—it made his head spin. That was the last thing he needed right now.

Things were quiet again, as you slid the rag over the thin pieces of metal that made up his hinged neck. Anxiety raced through his system as your hand moved dangerously close to the back of his face-plate—where the switch sat.

One wrong move (or maybe, one purposeful move) and he’d be forced into Rest Mode.

“Careful—” Before he could stop himself, his hand flew up, snatching your thin wrist. “Not there.”

“Oh! Sorry, sorry, sorry…” You quickly jerked back, panic flashing in your eyes. “D-Did I hurt you?”

He searched your face for any sign of wrongdoing. Something to latch onto.

He found nothing.

“…No.” Moon finally said after a moment, letting your wrist go. He felt a little bad as he watched you rub it, knowing that he’d probably held on a little too hard. “Just…not there.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.” You scooted around the edge of the chair, rag hovering just below the edge of his neck ruffles. “I’ll start on your chest now, okay?”

He didn’t say anything but leaned his head back to give you more room. That, and to keep from having to watch you run the cloth over the expanse of his chassis. Just the feeling of it was enough to have him balling his hands tight into fists at his sides.

There was so much intimacy in the action, as simple an action it was. Your face was so close, eyes squinted as you scrubbed at the stains splattered across his metal body. Sticky hands, paint, glue, dirt, grime—there was no telling what made up the mass of it all. But the feeling of it being wiped away was a very pleasant one.

He felt lighter, almost. Like the weight of the stains were being peeled off him.

You were extremely gentle when your hands moved down to his waist, one holding him slightly in place, the other moving the cloth down his sides and across his stomach.

Moon squirmed again. If he’d had a stomach, it would have been fluttering. Full of butterflies.

“Sorry, I’m almost done.” You breathed softly, looking up at him from beneath your lashes.

“It’s fine.” He lied.

A few more moments later, you finally leaned back, and Moon felt like he could breathe again. Not that he’d ever needed to in the first place. But whatever pressure had been hanging over his head was finally lifted away, if only momentarily.

You pulled out another bottle, gently drenching a small scrub brush across its surface with the oddly colored liquid. It smelled very strongly of disinfectant, and he flinched a little.

“This is the strong stuff.” You explained, offering him an apologetic smile. “It’ll get rid of the tougher stains—you don’t have a lot of them, so this part should be quick. I’ll try not to go too hard with it.”

“Do what you need to. We won’t run.”

This part of the cleaning process wasn’t quite as pleasant as the rag and soap. But you had been true to your word—your touch was gentle. Maybe too gentle.

“Harder.” He urged, after a while of watching you scrub at his arms. “We don’t have all night.”

You blew a few stray hairs out of your face. “I don’t know how you got this dirty. When was your last bath?”

He…couldn’t remember. So, he didn’t say anything at all.

You paused to glance up at him, but after it was apparent that you weren’t going to get a response, you turned back to scrubbing.

The bristles of the brush felt…strange, against his metal skin. Not painful. Just uncomfortable. It made him want to push your hand away, but he stopped short of doing so. You were just trying to help, and it wouldn’t do either of you good for him to make this difficult.

So, like a child sitting through a well-needed (but unwanted) haircut, he forced himself to simply sit there, squirming every so often.

“I really appreciate you letting me do this for you.” You finally said, your voice cutting through the silence. “I wish I could do something about the stains on your pants, but you probably wouldn’t want me to, uh…”

Your hands moved through the air, making vague gestures, before you just gave up and offered him a little half-shrug. “Mess with those.”

Moon had to think about it for a moment. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Once more, you paused, blinking rapidly. “What? Oh, uh—I was just joking!”

A spark of mischief fluttered in his chest. Your cheeks were flushing, the rosy color reaching all the way up to the tips of your ears. You couldn’t look at him suddenly, and his internals picked up a rapid jump in heart rate.

“Nervous?” A giggle bubbled up from somewhere deep inside him, and he clicked his invisible tongue, wagging a finger in your face. “Naughty thing.”

The color on your face deepened to a shade that rivaled the ruby glow of his eyes.

“No! I mean—that’s not what I meant. Just—I just—” Your lips set in a thin line, breath coming quick and heavy.

“Want me to take them off?”

“What?”

He giggled again, quite enjoying the way your voice cracked.

“My…” His hands hovered for a moment, just above the hem of his pants. Then, he flipped them upwards, as if offering you his wrists. “Ribbons.”

Your face was so red that he wondered if you could even breathe properly. Your heart was practically leaping out of your chest. Seeing you all flustered made that bouncy, electric feeling inside him tingle and spark.

For a moment, you just glared at him, shaking the scrub brush like you were considering smacking him with it. Then, you sucked in a breath, pinched the bridge of your nose, and slowly let it out again, lowering your would-be weapon.

“I hate you.”

He snickered again, reaching out a single finger to gently tap the tip of your nose. “Liar.”

You love me.

The words were caught in his nonexistent throat. He could say it, to push your buttons even further, but something held him back. Hesitation.

He wasn’t…quite ready to push it that far, yet.

You sighed dramatically, placing the scrub brush aside, only to reach for one of the toothbrushes he’d seen earlier.

“Are we playing dentist?”

“You’re half right.” Amusement sparkled in your eyes. “This is for, like, getting into the tiny places. The seams between your fingers and stuff. I’ll be using it on your face, too, so…”

“You came prepared.”

You grinned. “I told you I did.”

“All this for little old me?” He struck a bashful pose.

“Yes, you absolute goober. Now hold still…”

The feeling of the toothbrush sliding into his seams was much more pleasant than the scrub-brush. It still tickled, enough to make him twitch now and then, but it wasn’t overwhelming.

You were so gentle with the motions, making sure to get every nook and cranny that you could work the bristles into. Moon was a little shocked to see just how much grime the brush was picking up, but then again—it had been a very long time since they’d gotten any sort of attention in the “appearances” department.

Every time you swapped to a new area, you dip the brush into a small container of cleaner, swirling it around and wiping away the dirt from the surface of the bristles. But even with such meticulous attention to detail, it didn’t take long for it to become too dirty to keep using.

You ran through at least three brushes before you stopped to take a break.

“Seriously, how the hell did you guys get so dirty?”

Moon could only shrug. There were several components that contributed to their current state, but the biggest offender was plain out negligence.

You sighed and shook your head, grabbing a thermos from behind the stack of bottles and tipping it back. His eyes followed the movement of your throat every time you swallowed—a strange voyeuristic feeling.

A rivulet of water dripped from the corner of your mouth, rolling down your chin, then your throat, then over the dip of your clavicle and down beneath the collar of your shirt…he tore his gaze away. Focused on flexing his hands in his lap, then folded them together and squeezed, one foot tap-tap-tapping away, anxiously.

“Phew! God, I’m sweating like crazy. Is it okay if I take this off?” You fingered the neckline of your shirt with one hand, using the other to fan yourself with your hat.

He really wanted to say no. Because that would make him feel weirder.

But he couldn’t, when you looked at him like that. So earnest and innocent.

Moon nodded silently, looking away once more when you reached for the buttons. It felt…wrong, to watch you undo them. The sound of fabric rustling had his foot tapping just a bit faster.

“Okay! I’m good now.” You stretched your arms up above your head with a little moan. “God, that’s so much better.”

Moon found it hard to look at you directly, now that you were sitting there in a tank top. It wasn’t anything salacious, it was just. So intimate. There was so much more visible skin now, and his eyes kept moving over the muscles in your arms, across the curve of your abdomen…

The shape of your body was so much clearer now, and that made him feel…almost shy.

 “Alright, last up is your face. I’m gonna have to get a little bit closer—is that okay?”

That was not okay. His system was on high alert.

But what was he supposed to say? You’d already gone this far, he couldn’t just say no. Despite really, really wanting to.

For a moment he felt the gears in his head grinding, a substitution for the teeth and jaw he lacked. The tension in his body felt like a rubber band pulled too tight, seconds away from snapping. It got worse when he forced himself to nod, only able to muster up a little grunt of affirmation.

“Alright. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you. He did.

This was just. Too close.

You slid off the children’s chair, half-kneeling with one of your legs on the ground, a knee between his legs to balance yourself.

Too close. It was too close.

You reached up, rag in hand. Your fingers gently cupped the side of his face, feather-light touch sending sparks through his body.

Too. Close.

He felt his whole body go stiff as you pressed the soapy rag to his cheek.

Carefully, you moved it up to his forehead, then down to his chin. Warmth trailed down the metal of his face, burning in the wake of your touch. So hot that he almost couldn’t stand it.

Your eyes moved over his face as you swapped sides, smoothing down the crescent curve of his nose so delicately that it tickled. If he’d had the ability to sneeze, he probably would have.

“Sorry.” Your teeth dug lightly into your lower lip. “I know this is a lot. You’re doing a great job, Moonie.”

That did not help his situation at all.

Your praise struck him like a bolt of lightning, and he clenched his fists so tightly in his lap that he felt his metal knuckles pop.

“I really appreciate you letting me do this for you. I really, really care about you.” You paused to suck in a little breath. “I mean that.”

He could barely hear what you were saying. It was like static was buzzing in his ears, growing louder by the moment. All he could do was focus on the shape of your lips as they formed around each word.

“I…” The words refused to come out, caught in his nonexistent throat.

“It’s alright.” You laughed a little, placing the rag aside and reaching for the final toothbrush. “You don’t have to force yourself. I’m almost done.”

That wasn’t it.

You were just so close. The warmth of your body, your smell, the shape of you…it was suffocating him. If he leaned in, just a little bit more, he’d be able to wrap his arms around you, to feel the softness of your skin against his—

The abrupt tickle of the toothbrush rubbing against the seam in his faceplate made him jerk back.

“Sorry! Sorry.” You scoot forward, the hand on his cheek holding him in place a bit more firmly. “I’m almost done.”

Your body heat is suddenly all around him, then. You’re leaning up in his lap, both knees on the chair, straddling his leg. He can catch the scent of shampoo on your hair, scented lotion on your skin. He could count every lash framing your eyes. Feel the heat of your breath on his teeth—

His hands hover in the air, fingers twitching sporadically, just inches away from gripping you by the waist.

He wants to tell you to back up. But his invisible tongue is tied in knots.

He can’t stop looking at your face. Staring at you, as you maneuver the brush into the little dots lining his crescent-sloped nose.

“You have the cutest freckles.” You say, your lips turning up at the corners.

His body makes a strange noise. A low, grinding metallic sound that could be as much a growl as it could a whine.

That’s all the warning you get before he leans in, gripping you tight by the shoulders, and all but mashes his face against yours in a pathetic facsimile of a kiss.

It lasts for only a few seconds, but those seconds feel like an eternity. The softness of your lips against his hard, unyielding smile has his processor running at full tilt, fans blasting at full force inside of his chest, trying to chase off a heat that threatens to melt his insides into a gooey mess.

He was brought back to reality, then, as his brain caught up to his body.

Moon leaned back, shame burning through him. He slowly unfurled his hands from your shoulders, bringing them up to cover his face.

Why had he done that?

“M-Moon, I—what—”

Your voice is so small, trembling, and that just makes it so much worse.

“No, no.” He rasped, clawing at his cheeks. You stumbled back as he scrambled out of the chair, knocking it over in his haste to put distance between the two of you. “Against the rules. It’s wrong. Shouldn’t have done that. No, no, no—”

“Moon, stop.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have done that. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid—” Everything was spiraling. The gears inside his head grind so hard that it hurts.

He had you. He had something good. And he ruined it.

Sun was right. He ruined everything.

He always ruined everything good.

“Moon, stop!” Your fingers twine through his own, trying to pry his hands from his face. He can hear the panic in your voice. “Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself!”

“This is bad. This is wrong. It’s wrong.” He wanted to hide. He wanted to crawl into the dark, curl up in the shadows, and stay there forever. Away from you. Away from the good thing that he ruined. His fingers try to find purchase on something, anything, to grab and pull and break. “Wrong, wrong, wrong—”

“Moon…!”

He feels your fingers curl in the thin fabric of his neck ruffles—and then you yank.

The kiss is clumsy, teeth clicking against teeth as your lips smash against his plastic smile.

Everything in him screeches to a violent, almost painful halt. You’re kissing him.

And you keep kissing him.

Every kiss is hard and passionate, lips moving across his face as far as you can get to, standing on your tiptoes. He feels you stumble a little as you lean up into him, and his hands instinctively land on your waist to help you keep your balance.

“Wait, we can’t—”

“Sit.” You command.

He sits, following your will like the loyal, obedient dog that he is. He can see the chair he knocked over in front of him, sitting in what was your seat, but that view is quickly blocked when you climb into his lap. Your hands are trembling as they cup the sides of his face.

For a moment, your mouth opens and closes. Your brow furrows. You look like you want to say something, but no words come out.

So instead, you lean in and kiss him again.

And he lets you. He holds your tiny waist in his hands and leans into your touch, allowing the chaos filling his mind to simply melt away as you pepper kisses across his face.

Cheeks, nose, forehead, smile, eyebrows, chin. Back and forth and up and down and over and over—every kiss has his head spinning.

One of his large, metal hands come up to cradle the back of your head, urging you even closer. His fingers thread tenderly through your hair. Amongst the chaos, your hat is knocked free, falling to the wayside.

The heat of your body burns so hot through the thin fabric of your tank-top, and with the other hand, he gently squeezes the flesh of your side. A part of him wants to slide his fingers lower, to dip his hand beneath the shirt to feel the soft skin beneath.

It’s hot, it’s hot, it’s so hot he can’t stand it—

But then he feels your tongue slide across the thin curve of his lower lip, and he jerks back in shock. The thin line of saliva connecting your lips to his snaps.

“I, uh—ha..ha-ha…” You laugh a little as you rush to stand, quickly reaching up to wipe the drool from your mouth. Your lips are bruised red and a little puffy, cheeks flushed a pretty pink color. “Sorry, I-I got a little…uh, carried away.”

“Naughty.” Moon purrs, wagging a finger at you playfully. “Naughty boy.”

He feels so light and…and happy. That’s the only way he can put the bubbly, buzzy, excited feeling running all through his body. He’s happy.

“Was that…was that okay? That I…did…that?”” You can hardly look at him, eyes darting back-and-forth. He can feel you starting to pull back slightly, and his fingers curl possessively over the curve of your hip, keeping you tethered.

“…Maybe.” He muses, head cocking to the side. “Maybe not.”

“Oh.” Your face falls.

“Maybe you should…do it again.” His head tilted to the other side. “To make sure.”

He can’t help but giggle when obvious relief washes over your face.

“You…” Again, your lips move, not quite forming around words, like whatever you’re trying to say won’t quite come out. You settle with an awkward, lopsided smile. “So, it is okay? That I kissed you?”

Moon nodded, swaying lightly in his seat. “Yes. It’s…okay.”

He really wishes you would do it again.

“Okay. Okay! Good. I-I’m…yeah.” You laugh nervously, your cheeks still stained pink. Your grin stretches from ear-to-ear. Then you look up at him, and your expression morphs into an apologetic smirk.

“Cause now I’ve gotta clean your face off again.”

He stops swaying.

“Ah….” Moon can’t stop the little unhappy grunt that escapes him. He can still feel the sensation of each kiss buzzing against his metal skin. “Do you have to?”

“Yes, Moon, I have to.” You chuckle again, once more reaching for the cleaning supplies. “You can’t walk around with drool all over your face.”

“I’ve done it before.”

You fix him with a look. “You can’t walk around with MY drool all over your face.”

“Boo.” He crossed his arms, slumping back in a dramatic pout. His hat slumped over his face, the bell jingling as it bounced off his nose. “You’re no fun.”

A little whistle of air escapes your nose as you settled the other chair in front of him, scooting forward until your knees were touching. You reach up, gently moving the bell back over the curve of his head and beckoned him forward.

Moon, of course, leans into your hand without hesitation.

And so, you resume where you’d left off, with you gently wiping away the remnants of your improvised make-out session.

“So. Um.” Your voice cracks a little. “Are we, like…I mean. Do you…like…me?”

“Yes.” He says simply.

“No, I mean. Uh.” You suck in a shaky breath, still struggling to look him in the eye. “Like…like-like. Do you like me. In “that” way? Like—like “that”?”

He’s not sure how he didn’t make that clear. He thought that he had.

But you look like you want to sink into the earth right now, so he can’t help but tease you a little bit.

“Maybe.” Moon crooned, daintily folding his hands between his knees and swaying side-to-side. “Do you like-like me?”

He can hear the breath catch in your throat, and you look away quickly, face flushing an even deeper shade of red.

So very cute.

“Y-Yeah. I do. A lot.” You inhale slowly, forcing your eyes to meet with his. “I-I care about you, a lot, Moon. You’re…you’re my best friend and I…I like you. A lot.”

He stops swaying (again).

“Hm. Good.”

Before you can react, he leans forward to gently bump his smile against your forehead. You, of course, stare at him, wide-eyed and mouth agape.

 “I like you…too.”

For a second, you look like you’re thinking about saying something—and Moon simply giggles when you lean in to kiss him again.

Maybe, if he asks nicely, he can keep this one.

[naffeclipse]

I have read all your non-human reader fics and unreasonable amount over. I am begging you with the small peice of soul I have left. If you drop a non-human oneshot or even js an IDEA for a fic or a oneshot I will devour that like I haven't been fed in years. (I love non-human readers so much its addicting.)

Hm, okay! I have an idea or two, and centaurs have been on the brain, so you're getting that.

You are a deer centaur. You're graceful and quick as you prance through meadows and wave through trees effortlessly. Humans rarely travel this far, but you've noticed two beings of metal that sometimes move through here, guiding humans to the other side of your vast wild lands. You hardly ever let them see you for a moment that's not simply your tail-end as you bound away, but they sometimes stop and stare as you go.

You grow used to seeing them, the brothers. The one has a visage like a sun with beams surrounding his head and the other wears a cap over his moon-crescent face. Their jackets are leather, the ones hunters like to wear. One wears old yellow and the other wears dark gray. The colors make them stand out, unlike the hunters.

They're quiet, unlike the noisy humans that stomp and travel through with their hand carts and whining cattle. When they return without people to guide them, they sometimes sit under the shade of a tree and rest for a moment. You nearly stepped on the sunny one when you were plucking flowers in the meadow and jerked upright to see his wide eyes staring up at you, his mouth agape in awe and shock from where he had been resting on the grass. He tried to say something but you ran away before he could.

The other caught you off guard when you were slipping to the creek. You found him downstream a few yards away, washing his hands and scrubbing dirt from the jolts of his wrists. You were too thirsty to turn away from a cool drink. His head lifted and he froze while you knelt down on your four legs and cupped your hands together to fill them with the creek water. He said not a word before you finished gulping and dripping water on your bare chest. He tried to when you got back on your hooves. You didn't catch whatever he said.

The season changes, and you wonder why you haven't seen the brothers for some time. All the grass has dripped into gold and the heat of the day has eased while the nights become blissfully cool. Do those kind of metal creatures get sick? Did they decide they were tired of guiding humans? You stray closer and closer to the wagon-rutted path they take between the trees, but you neither hear nor see signs of them. That's too bad. You continue jumping over ferns and galloping through open fields, ignoring that slight pang in your chest. You spend your days eating wild apples and carefully removing ripe berries from thorny veins.

Until you notice, during one munch under an apple tree, the glint of something silver like teeth in the shade of trees on the far end of the meadow. Your floppy ears swivel. You stop chewing.

Then a report of a gun explodes your senses. Two shots in the same thunderous cry. Pain sears through the meat of your back right flank and the soft point between your shoulder and your chest. You nearly buckle before scrambling upright and bolting. You hear curses and shouts. Hunters. Their jackets are brown and camouflage.

Blood trails behind you, marking every half-wilted leave and mud-dark trail. You stumble. Your mind is caught stiffly in the combined panic and shock of pain, and you collapse onto the path that bears wheel marks from wagons. You have to get up. You writhe, kicking up stones and dust, but you don't find a way to return to your hooves.

Then you hear voices. Your vision blurs and your panic spills out into a bleat from your lips before someone softly shushes you. Your skull is taken in gentle, metal hands. A cool touch falls to your lower half's ribs, and you feel sticky and hot with blood. A voice asks what happened. Something gives way within you. Refuge. Exhaustion sinks into your eyes, and you falter into the darkness.

When you wake, it's warm. You blearily realize you can smell something strange and sharp, like the medicinal herbs you collect to prevent invention, but it's smothered under something. Your head is cradled by a soft pillow. Slowly, you realize walls surround you, and it looks terribly similar to the log cabin you once followed the brothers to one season just to see where they ended up when they weren't roaming.

You're sprawled upon a cool, open floor with a sheet underneath you. Your fingers explore gingerly and find bandages around your shoulder and your flank, your tan fur clean of blood. You jerk upright before you hear "I'd take it easy. You lost a lot of blood."

You twist your head to find one of the brothers sitting on the floor beside the pillow you were just lying on. His half-moon face regards you quietly. Through an entryway, the other brother emerges and you flinch at his arrival. His eyes widen before his mouth splits in relief.

"Oh! Good, you're awake. You gave us quite the fright."

Pain dully throbs underneath the bandages, but you realize you're not going anywhere anytime soon, even if your instinct screams at you to flee. The brothers gently sit beside you and tell you their names. Sun and Moon. You regard them in the way you would regard a snake in your path, but they don't hiss or rattle. Instead, they chuckle and ask you in a dozen different ways if you're alright, and what happened. By the storms in their faces, you figure they can guess.

Sun gives you a cup of water, and Moon asks if he can check your bandages. You shift anxiously, almost spilling your drink while he gently peals back the sticky, ruddy-stained patches to see the sizeable hole blown into your lower half. You would have bled to death. You would have been someone's trophy.

"You're safe with us." Sun gently takes the cup from your trembling hand before you spill anymore. "You can rest as long as you like."

"I want to leave. Now," you say, and even when you try to kick up and get back upright, you only manage to interrupt Moon while he's stuffing cleaning herbs against your bullet wound. You gasp and then yelp from the searing pain of jostling your tender injuries.

"Don't move," Moon growls once. "You're going to start bleeding again if you keep that up."

It's enough to make your ears flatten and you freeze.

"He's right." Sun nods, understanding concern coating his expression. "You can't leave like this. I promise it'll only be so long as you need to recover."

This will take weeks to heal if not months. You hardly belong in a close-quarters house, much less in the care of two machines, but they hum and gently tend to you until you stop fidgeting and accept pills from a little pale bottle. The pain slips away, but so do you as Sun's fingers gently brush your floppy ears and chat quietly about illegal hunters in this area. Moon shifts his attention to your shoulder. You wince when he touches it, and he apologizes. There's a blood stain on the pillow you're resting on. You let him inspect the wound before he softly touches your arm and tells you to get some rest. It will help you heal.

And that's how you spend most of the season in the care of Sun and Moon.

[aylacavebear]

Spike

You always had a soft spot for animals. It was just the kind of person you were. So, when you found an odd-looking puppy wandering around in the woods behind your home, you couldn’t just leave it to fend for itself. You did check the surrounding area for any signs of its mother or a nest, but after days of searching, you hadn’t found anything. The pup was just as curious about you as you were about it, and it followed you home without hesitation.

Pairings: None

Word Count: 6237

Warnings: Angst, dangerous situations, mention of murders, not much really.

A/N: Hope you guys like this one. Just something that danced through my head when I got to interact with my son's 4 yr old puppy.

----------------------------------------- The pup was smart and beyond eager when you would pull out the clicker and treats, always making you giggle. You hadn’t quite figured out a name for it yet, wanting to learn its personality beforehand. Every animal had a personality, and this little guy was no different. When you did give him a bath, he wasn’t sure about the water at first. However, it didn’t take him long before he was splashing around in it while you attempted to scrub the dirt out of his fur.

Within a week, he had learned numerous commands. All of them had been simple, but it still surprised the hell out of you. By then, you decided to name him Spike. It was when you needed to go into town to grab some supplies that things got a little… weird. He was being obnoxiously persistent about going with you. 

You would go to the door, and he’d follow, then sit by your leg and look up at you. “You need to stay here. I’ll only be gone a few hours,” you sighed, walking him back over to the living room where his dog bed was. “Stay here,” you told him sternly, then returned to the door.

Spike looked at you with that tilted head and puzzled expression, making you groan as your resolve began to waver. Why do you have to look so fucking adorable? “I can’t take you into some of the stores. No dogs allowed,” you attempted to explain to Spike. That was what most people thought was weird about you. You talked to animals as if they could completely understand you, like you were talking to another human. 

For a moment, neither of you moved. He watched you while you watched him, and your resolve wavered further. “Damnit,” you grumbled under your breath. “Alright, come on,” you sighed, opening the front door for him. Spike danced around happily before bounding outside. Well, at least he can go in the pet store.

You allowed him to sit in the passenger seat as you drove. His head hung out the open window with the wind in his face, tongue hanging out with his tail wagging happily. All you could do was chuckle, scratching behind his ear when he’d turn toward you or petting along his back while he looked out the window.

He stayed in the car while you went into the grocery store, even with the windows down. You made the trip as quickly as possible, grabbing a couple of bags of ice on your way out. Spike stood up, putting his paws on the door handle as you put the ice in the ice chest, then added the cold items you had purchased.

“Next stop is the pet store. That one’s all for you, bud,” you explained to him while you focused on your task. Spike barked at you like he understood, bringing a small smile to your lips.

You gave him a rub on his head before sliding into the driver’s seat. “You’re such a good boy,” you praised him before he licked your face happily. “Alright. Alright. Sit down so you don’t slide around while I drive,” you laughed, giving him all the pets.

The pet shop visit went a little differently. You carried him to the front, then set him in the basket portion of the shopping cart so he could look around. At the moment, you didn’t have any decent puppy supplies, and he desperately needed toys with a few other necessities. 

This place wasn’t like the big pet stores you’d find in big towns. It was smaller but still had the items you needed. Plus, there wasn’t anyone else there except for the clerk at the register, who was restocking something behind the counter as you wandered around. You picked up and tested lots of different toys, even asking Spike about certain ones. Yes, you asked the puppy about the toys to see if he would like them. The ones he tried to mouth went into the cart with him, while others went back on the shelf. Once toys were covered, you headed to collars.

The selection wasn’t all that great. Lots of solid colors or dainty patterns that didn’t fit his personality at all. You dug through the different racks, wanting to look in the back of every single one of them. Spike just watched you with curiosity from the cart, not even bothering with the toys scattered all around him.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you found it- a black collar with harmless spikes coming off of it. When you pulled it off the back of one of the racks, Spike stood up, putting his paws on the edge of the cart. His tail wasn’t the only thing wagging with his excitement, half his body had joined in.

“You like this one too, huh?” you asked with a quiet laugh, and he barked at you, his body never stopping in its excited movements. 

Still chuckling, you finally made your way to the register, grabbing a few bones and more treats on the way. As you placed the items on the counter, the clerk looked at you oddly. You didn’t notice until you placed the last item with the rest.

“Did you hear a dog bark earlier?” the young man asked you as he began ringing up your items.

Without hesitation, you answered. “Yeah. It was my new puppy, Spike,” you told him as you reached over and ruffled the top of Spike’s head.

The young man just stared at you but shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever you say, lady,” he replied nonchalantly, almost like he thought you were nuts or something.

Spike didn’t make another sound, nor did he move around in the cart as you placed the bags around him. Far too many questions wandered around your mind as you paid and continued as you pushed the cart out to your car. 

“Maybe he wasn’t a dog person,” you mused quietly as you put everything in the backseat before putting Spike in the front seat.

Before you got back on the road, you pulled out his collar, tore off the tag, and carefully put it on him, even if he was overly excited. By the time you were halfway home, you had let go of the questions from the pet store.

—-------------------

As Spike grew, you began noticing how he wasn’t like any dog breed you’d seen before. Plus, he was getting rather… large. However, he was the best dog you’d ever had and the most loyal. Perhaps it was one of those, ‘A face only a mother could love,’ sort of things because you weren’t off-put by his appearance.

You did do some research online, but no normal dog breed looked anything remotely close to him. At some point, after he turned two, you had stopped trying to figure it out completely. Spike had quite the appetite, which you figured was normal for a growing puppy. It reminded you of larger dog breeds, so it didn’t set off any alarming warning bells in your head. 

Being able to work from home made not having to deal with people easy. It wasn’t that you were ‘anti-social.’ You just preferred animals over people. They were easier to talk to, for you. Plus, you got to have Spike by your side all day, typically curled up next to your work chair.

When Spike reached four years old, you were praying he wouldn’t grow anymore. He was huge in comparison to even a large dog breed. When he sat, the top of his head reached the middle of your chest, putting him nearly four feet tall. 

“Not sure our house is big enough if you get any bigger,” you teased him one day while working on your computer. He just looked up at you, tilting his head like he was listening. “Perhaps I should have named you Clifford,” you added with a chuckle, remembering that cartoon from so long ago with the big red dog.

Spike just snorted before lying his head back down over his paws. You couldn’t take him into town anymore and hadn’t been able to in a while. The last thing you wanted to do was scare people with as big as he was. Then there was his appearance anyone might find nightmarish.

His eyes had gone completely red, but to you, they were beautiful. His teeth were long, all pointed, and very sharp. He had canines similar to other dogs, but his reminded you more of a cats with how they went over his bottom jaw and could still be seen. You kept his fur brushed, which helped it stay soft. Plus, he loved water, even if you had to end up getting him one of those kid pools so he could enjoy it more.

Then there were his claws. Most would have said they looked like something out of a horror movie, but as long as you kept them manicured, to you, they were just dog nails. Spike turned into an utter baby when it was time to take care of his nails. It would always take all your willpower not to laugh at how he would try to hide all his paws as he curled up in his bed every time you grabbed the clippers and file.

He was your friend, family, and guard dog, all wrapped up into one. You’d do anything for him just like he would you, even if he was just a dog and couldn’t say it with words. It was in how he always stayed by your side and warned you of danger. He had even protected you from a mountain lion that had strayed far too close to your home one day. 

—---------------------------

One lazy afternoon, while reading a book on the couch, Spike went from sleeping peacefully to alerting that something was coming. You’d learned his cues over the years. His focus was on the front door, his ears standing tall and alert, and his body was tense.

“What is it, boy?” you asked as you leaned over, gently petting his head to soothe him. It was the low, almost inaudible growl that got your attention. “Easy. Let’s see who it is first, alright? No need to kill someone if it’s only a solicitor,” you told him softly, which did help him relax, but only a little.

Whoever it is, I need to be cautious.

You waited till you heard the car pull up, and the engine get cut before you even went to your door. Upon opening your door, you saw two men in suits walking toward your front porch. “Hello. Can I help you?” you asked, figuring perhaps they were with some church at first.

Both men pulled out badges. “FBI. Mind if we ask you some questions?” the taller of the two asked.

“I guess. What’s this about?” you asked, now completely puzzled. You didn’t watch the news or keep up with things that went on in town. The fact that they had driven all the way out to your place just to talk to you was weird.

“Mind if we come in?” the shorter of the two asked, his expression unreadable at the moment.

You glanced over your shoulder at Spike, who still seemed a little tense, then back at the two men. “I have a dog, and he’s not too keen on strangers. He won’t hurt either of you. I give you my word. He’s just not everyone’s cup of tea,” you chuckled, still figuring he was just a normal dog.

The two shared a look before they looked back at you. “He’s not much of a dog person, but I used to have one myself a few years back,” the taller one told you with a reassuring smile.

Shrugging your shoulders a little, you stepped inside and moved to the living room, taking a seat on the couch near Spike’s bed, where he was watching the two men. “Behave Spike. They just have questions,” you told him, gently petting the top of his head.

They both followed you inside, taking note of the quaint cabin and simple decor. The tall one took a seat in the armchair across from you while the other one sat on the other end of the couch. “So, where’s your dog?” the tall one asked as he looked around.

Dean was watching you, noticing the movements of your hand as his expression went from mostly relaxed to utterly on edge. Sam caught it all out of the corner of his eye, following his brother’s gaze as his expression became tight.

“Right here,” you told him, still gently petting the top of Spike’s head as he watched the two men. 

Sam swallowed hard, both of them slowly reaching into their suits at almost the same time, pulling out a pair of glasses. You weren’t quite sure why they would need glasses now unless they were for reading, but didn’t comment on it. The moment they put them on, they both nearly froze where they were sitting.

“Uh… what’s its name?” Sam asked, trying to act as nonchalant as possible.

“Spike,” you replied with a small smile. “I’ve had him since he was a puppy. He got lost in the woods, and after I couldn’t find a den or his mom, I let him follow me home,” you explained happily, like he was just a normal, regular dog.

Dean cleared his throat, fighting every hunter's instinct in his body to shoot the damn thing. “Does he stay inside at night?” he asked, focusing more on you but keeping the ‘dog’ in his line of sight.

“Usually. Since there isn’t anyone around for miles, I didn’t bother making it so he couldn’t get out at night. Plus, he’s never hurt anyone before, so I didn’t see a problem with it,” you answered, being honest.

Again, the two shared a look, and you weren’t liking it. “What questions did the two of you have for me?” you asked, deciding to change the subject as you straightened up. Spike shifted so he was a little closer to you, lying more in front of you now, between the couch and coffee table.

Sam decided to take this one, even if he was just as uncomfortable as his brother was. “The authorities found three dead bodies a mile from here,” he began, but you cut him off.

“The woods have bears and wolves. I’ve even seen a couple mountain lions over the years. People shouldn’t be hiking in these woods unless they’re prepared for predators,” you told them, a defensive edge in your tone made Spike lift his head, his body tense again. “Easy, boy,” you cooed gently, leaning down to nuzzle against his cheek. “Easy,” you whispered.

Spike relaxed, although he kept his eyes on the two men. You knew there were times Spike had gone out and hunted other animals occasionally, but he’d never once gone after a person. 

Dean’s jaw clenched, watching you defend the animal, nearly blowing their cover. “Yes. We’re aware of the wild animals in the area. However, the marks left on the bodies don’t match any of them,” Sam explained in a clipped tone.

“So, you are implying Spike is the one who killed them,” you sighed, sitting back up and leaning into the cushion of the couch as Spike rested his head on your leg.

“His, uh, paws… look to be about the correct size, of the, uh, slash marks we found on the victims,” Sam stated, trying to choose his words carefully, as it was clear you had no clue what the animal you called a dog really was.

The tension in the room grew as the silence stretched while you contemplated things in your head. After a moment, you just got up, both men and Spike’s gaze followed you as you went into your room. Moments later, you returned with a board the size of two cutting boards with multicolored hexagonal buttons on it. Spike was on his feet, his tail wagging happily as his tongue fell out of his open mouth.

Both the brothers jumped, seeing the ‘dogs’ full size as he bound over to the open area between the living room and the door. They watched the scene unfold in utter shock and disbelief.

Spike sat on his haunches, tail wagging, but waiting as you set the mat on the floor. His eyes were on you, watching as you sat down on the other side of the mat.

“Spike, did you go out at night?” you asked, watching him as he tapped his paw on a button.

“Yes,” played from the button.

“Spike, did you hunt?” you asked, feeling the worry rise, but using words you had trained him with. He again tapped the Yes button. You furrowed your brow a little, needing to get more precise. “Spike, were you protecting me?”

And for a third time, he hit the same button. “Good, boy,” you praised him with a triumphant smile before pulling two treats from your pocket.

Dean and Sam were in utter shock, both their mouths slightly open and on the edge of their seats. But neither of them could find words to say anything. You ruffled the top of the ‘dog’s’ head as he gently took the treats from your other hand.

“Perhaps you two should look more into the victims. Spike wouldn’t just kill someone. He was protecting me from them. I didn’t even know they were in the woods. Now, if you don’t have any other questions, why don’t the two of you go do your jobs and stop harassing my dog,” you told them bluntly, one hand on Spike’s head, the other on your hip.

They swore there was a smug look on the ‘dog’s’ face, but neither wanted to admit it. 

—-------------------------

Dean slammed the motel door. “She trained a fucking hellhound to talk!” 

He was frustrated while at the same time, intrigued. Hellhounds were smart. Too smart for either of their liking. But what you had done had blown their minds. 

“Maybe we should take a look at the victims again,” Sam suggested, getting into his bag and digging out his laptop.

The car ride back had been silent, neither of them able to voice the thoughts running through their minds. A hellhound. A vile, viscous creature wielded by demons to take souls to hell. And to top it off, there were very few things that could kill a hellhound. It was clear to them that you had no clue what it was.

Sam focused on the case files on his laptop while Dean paced, sipping beer. He couldn’t seem to be able to sit still, randomly spouting off another fact about hellhounds before saying something about Spike. The entire scene had him questioning things he didn’t want to question. With hellhounds, the lines had been clear. They were monsters, killers, and needed to be put down. That line was now blurred for both of them.

“Why her, though?” Sam mused, finally looking up from his laptop. “I mean. Why can she see it without the glasses?”

Dean stopped midstep. It was something he hadn’t thought of. He quickly began recounting the things he’d seen in your home. You couldn’t be a demon due to the necklace you wore, but it wasn’t like they had tested you for anything, figuring you were just a normal civilian. Although, they’d been too stunned to do any sort of tests after seeing Spike.

He started rattling things off in his mind. You hadn’t sold your soul to a demon since you’d found the thing when it was a puppy. The demon concept was a no-go already. “Could she be an angel?” Dean finally asked, sitting across from his brother.

“Wouldn’t she know if she was an angel, though?” Sam replied, thinking about how angels worked.

For a few moments, there was silence as the two got lost in thought before Dean got an almost smile on his lips. “What about a Nephilim?”

Sam leaned back in his chair, considering that. They didn’t have a lot of information on Nephilm, at least not with them. “We could always call Cas. He might know.” “If she’s a Nephilim, it might explain why she was targeted and why the hellhound killed them,” Dean mused. It was the only thing he could come up with, given the things they’d already dealt with. “Let’s go get another look at the victims before we call Cas.”

There was no new information at the morgue. Nothing out of the ordinary with the victims. All of them had died from the wounds inflicted by the animal that attacked them. Being back at square one, Sam began mentally going over what the victim's family and friends had said. “What if the victims were possessed by demons?” Sam finally asked his brother on the way back to the motel. Dean only glanced at him for a moment. “Think about it. The victims all disappeared about the same time. Days before the attack and time of death.” “We need to check the missing person reports,” Dean stated with a new determination and concern. If demons were after you or your… dog, you could be in far more danger than you were aware of.

Back at the motel, Sam had done what he does best: find it all online. There were four other people who had gone missing the same week. They made a few phone calls, talking to family and friends of those people, not surprised that they had disappeared in the same fashion as the three dead victims back at the morgue. 

“Demons?” Sam suggested, leaning back in his chair. “Now, should we call Cas? That or Crowley.” he chuckled at that, but it might give them better results than Cas could.

Dean didn’t like the idea of calling Crowley. The King of Hell always had his own agenda. After a few moments of silence, as Dean considered his options, he finally relented. “Cas first, then Crowley.”

When Cas did show, they explained the situation to him. His face had gone from puzzled to concerned to intrigued in the span of the conversation. “A male hellhound?” Cas mumbled, somewhat lost in thought.

Dean tried not to be annoyed that that had been what Cas had chosen to focus on. There were other problems he thought were more important than the sex of your ‘dog.’ “Come on, Cas, really? That’s what’s got you lost in thought.” Cas became almost animated as he spoke. “You don’t get it. All the hellhounds in existence are female. Until now. It would explain why the demons are here and what they are after.”

“What about the girl? Why can she see it?” Sam interjected since that seemed just as important to him

“I’m not sure. I would need to meet her to know the answer,” he replied, getting further curious about this case the brothers had found themselves on.

The brothers shared a look, a silent conversation, before Dean sighed. “We need to go back anyway.”

—------------------------

With it being near evening, you were just sitting down to enjoy dinner while Spike enjoyed his nearby. Your thoughts were still on what had happened. Why would someone be after me? The one question that wouldn’t leave your mind, no matter what you’d done to try to distract your thoughts.

Spike had never killed anyone before, at least not as far as you knew. Yeah, he’d hunted in the forest, but it had always been wild animals. You figured it was part of whatever breed he was, needing fresh meat to supplement his diet with. 

As the sun set, it cast rays of oranges, pinks, and gold through the living room window. The forest outside was settling in for the night. An owl nearby began its hooting early, echoing through the canopy.

“Why would someone be after me?” you mumbled as you washed dishes, unable to shake the thought. Then, you looked over at Spike, who met your gaze. “Where they after you?” He just tilted his head, making you chuckle quietly.

To you, he was expressive when you talked to him, almost as if he understood you. However, most people who owned pets thought that very same thing, so you always brushed it off as you just being weird.

Spike’s attention turned to the front door, but you didn’t hear anything finishing up the dishes. It was his low growl that made goosebumps prickle your skin. He didn’t typically growl, not like this. “What is it, boy?” you asked as if he could understand.

He only barked, still staring at the door. With a reluctant sigh, you went over to the window and looked out, not seeing anything in the fading light. “There’s nothing out there,” you told him.

But within seconds, he was getting between you and the window, pushing you away from it. All you could do was rest your hands on his back and take several steps back before he finally stopped. “What’s got you so on edge?” you asked him, somewhat exasperated while trying not to worry.

Is someone out there? Are they dangerous? Will they hurt Spike or me? 

Your thoughts were typically on Spike first. With your hand resting on his back, he snarled at the window, slowly moving to the door, completely on guard. Then, his head snapped to the back door, through the kitchen, and his growl only intensified.

Your heart was pounding so loud you swore if anyone else was there, they’d be able to hear it, too. Then there was the fear that began creeping into your every nerve as the anxiety of it all made it hard to take a deep breath. You couldn’t hear anything outside, but Spike wasn’t backing down, and he was only getting more protective of you.

Somewhere, glass shattered on the floor, and Spike had moved faster than you could react, pushing you onto the floor and covering your body with his. He looked ferocious at the moment, but he wasn’t what you were afraid of. Spike stood over your body, snarling and growling at a man who was now coming in through your front door. You rolled over onto your stomach, looked up at him, and furrowed your brow. You’d seen him in town before, one of the employees at the hardware store. “Mr. Gosner?” you asked in utter confusion.

He didn’t even look at you. He was looking at Spike with a sadistic smile. “Stupid mutt. That dart was for the human, not you,” he snarled, daring to take another step closer.

For a moment, you weren’t sure what to think. Stuff like this only happened in movies or in the city. It was why you had chosen to live in a small town, and even then, it was more in the forest than the town itself. What happened next made it feel all the much more like a movie. A man in a trenchcoat appeared behind Mr. Gosner. Then he put his hand on Mr. Gosner’s head, and a bright white light appeared. You curled up under Spike and shielded your eyes. The next thing you heard was a loud thud, but you were unable to dare to look. Spike didn’t relax, but he also wouldn’t move away from you.

You heard some shouting from outside, then saw some more of that white light outside one of the windows. Then, silence. Even Spike had stopped growling and snarling. He backed up and nuzzled his head against your arm.

Shaken, you looked up at him and gave him a sad smile while rubbing his face. “I’m okay, boy. You did good.” Then you gave him a kiss on his muzzle before he licked your face, making you giggle.

“I’ve never seen a hellhound act like a puppy,” Cas stated, utterly perplexed at what he was witnessing from the doorway.

You tilted your head back and looked at the man standing there. The one in the trenchcoat with the two FBI agents from earlier. “Hellhound?” again confused. With Spike seeming perfectly okay with the three of them, you managed to get back onto your feet.

It took a few moments, but you finally found the dart that Spike had been shot with. The dart meant for you. Before you could throw it away, the man in the trenchcoat plucked it from your fingers. “Hey,” you began to argue until you saw his eyes glow a little and instantly backed up. 

The green-eyed FBI agent quickly stepped forward, “It’s okay. We can explain, if you’ll let us.”

With a begrudging sigh, you relented. Far too many strange things had happened, and you wanted answers so your head would stop spinning. The four of you sat around the living room. Well, the one in the trenchcoat stood, more interested in your dog than you. Then again, Spike was just as interested in him. Dean, the green-eyed not agent, explained things fairly bluntly to you while the other one, Sam, his younger brother, was far gentler with his phrases. You got to learn what kind of breed Spike was, and looked over at him as the word slipped past your lips in a barely audible whisper. “Hellhound.”

At the moment, Cas, the one in the trenchcoat, was crouching down. He and Spike were just staring at each other while Spike would tilt his head from one side to the other, trying to figure out the angel. Oh yeah, Cas was an angel, and monsters were real. 

Looking back at the brothers, “So, how come I can see Spike without those weird glasses you two are wearing?”

“Cas, can you stop staring at the hel- I mean, Spike and come over here,” Sam asked, trying not to chuckle at the interaction between the two.

“But, he’s fascinating,” Cas mused, not wanting to move, and he hadn’t touched him yet.

“Come on, Cas,” Dean grumbled.

With a sigh, Cas stood up, “I will be back,” he told Spike as he went over to the other end of the couch and sat down. Spike, utterly curious about the angel, followed him, sitting on his haunches near that end of the sofa.

“I’ve never seen him so interested in anyone before,” you mused, at a complete loss for words at the moment.

“He’s probably never seen an angel before,” Sam offered gently.

Cas studied you. It was clear you were nothing angelic, since you didn’t have any traces of grace. Definitely not a demon of any sort, either. You were a puzzle at the moment. As far as he could tell, you were just an ordinary human. “Cas?” Dean asked, getting a bit impatient.

Cas shifted in his seat, still staring at you, “She looks human. No grace, no traces of any sort of demonic energy. No sort of other monster,” he sort of rambled.

Spiked moved over to sit next to you, nuzzling your hand with his head, and your hand began absentmindedly rubbing the top of his head between his ears. Sometimes, you wonder who had trained who. Cas again just watched you. Now you were a puzzle he was too intrigued not to figure out.

“Have you ever interacted with any Fae?” he asked while the brothers’ heads turned from Cas to you, like they did whenever the conversation went back and forth.

“Not that I’m aware of,” you answered, being honest. You weren’t even sure what all was considered a Fae.

Cas shifted again in his seat, clasping his hands together between his knees. “Do you have a strange birthmark that looks more like the shape of something instead of just a blotch?” 

It was an odd question but fairly specific, sending a trail of goosebumps down your arms. “I have a small heart on my hand,” you answered a bit nervously.

“May I see it?” he asked, getting more curious about you.

Gingerly, you held out your hand, the one you had been petting Spike with, his eyes watching as Cas took your hand in both of his. You were rather surprised at how tender he held your hand, and how soft his own were. Although to be fair, you weren’t sure what you were expecting. He was the first angel you had ever met before.

His thumb brushed over the small heart-shaped mark on your hand as a soft smile adorned his lips. “You saved a fairy’s companion when you were little. I’m going to guess it was a rabbit or bird,” he explained, and the softness of his tone made your heart flutter, and you weren’t entirely sure why. Perhaps angels just had that effect on people.

All the brothers could do was watch, their gaze shifting from you, to Cas, to Spike, and around again it went. Sam thought the interaction was going well, especially after what you’d just been through. But Dean… He was seeing something else that was simmering beneath the surface as a teasing, knowing smirk slowly found his lips.

“When I was five, I found a bird trapped in some fishing line. It was fairly freaked out, but I managed to get it untangled. But, it didn’t fly away at first. It looked at me and kept tilting its head, a lot like Spike does. Then, it picked up a small pebble in its beak, dropped it on my hand, and flew away. I’ve had that mark ever since,” you recounted the memory as it played out in your mind. That seemed like so long ago now. You hadn’t even thought about it in more years than you could remember.

“Animals feel safe with you because of this mark,” Cas told you, and you swore there was almost a tenderness in his tone this time, his thumb still softly moving over the mark on your hand.

Dean almost chuckled but cleared his throat instead, pulling both of you from the moment. “Alright. She’s been touched by a Fae or whatever. That’s why she can see the hellhound?”

Cas seemed to get pulled from whatever moment there had been and let go of your hand before looking at Dean. “Yes. But she is still in danger. I’m fairly certain that Crowley sent those demons after Spike.” At the mention of his name, Spike looked up at Cas and made the cutest bark barely opening his mouth at all, making you chuckle.

“How do I keep us both safe?” you asked as you began rubbing Spike’s head again. It always seemed to calm you, having him close, and you had been far less stressed in the years he had been a part of your life.

For a long several moments, none of them spoke. Where could you go? How could you keep the two of you safe from whoever this Crowley person was? Those questions and more swirled through your mind.

“The bunker is warded. That’s the only thing I can come up with,” Sam finally broke the silence, and Dean gave him a look of utter disbelief. Had he seriously just suggested to let a hellhound live in the bunker?

“That’s a perfect idea. Y/N, you should pack the things you require, for both of you. I will stay and make sure you’re safe in case other demons try to come for you before you’re ready,” Cas stated, but you could see a smile he was trying to hide, as had Dean.

Spike was now standing, wagging his tail, and half his body while his tongue hung out of his mouth with a happy smile. All you could do was laugh at him before holding his face with your hands and getting closer to him. “What? You wanna go for a ride?” you asked him playfully.

He barked loudly as his excitement only became more animated, and your laughter filled the room. The brothers were still in a slight state of shock, but if they were ever asked, the scene was somewhat cute. Spike began playfully bounding around the open space, tail wagging the whole time.

“Still not sure how I feel about having a hellhound move into the bunker,” Dean grumbled under his breath.

Sam chuckled quietly, amused, “Pretty sure he’ll mostly behave, or he’ll find ways of annoying you, on purpose.” Dean just glared at him before schooling his features and looking back at you. “We’re at the motel in town. Once you’re packed, let us know, and you can follow us to the bunker.” 

You had no idea how your life would change, but you had a feeling it wasn’t going to be all that bad. They seemed nice, and Spike was okay with them. You always trusted the instincts of any animal you had had over the years. If they didn’t like someone, they had a good reason for it, and it always kept you safe in the long run.

Finding Spike when he was a puppy had changed your life in wonderful ways. Now, it seemed he was bringing more change, and in a way, you wanted to see how it would go. Yeah, you had questions, but somehow, you knew they’d all get answered. And with that in mind, you went back as the brothers left, curiosity coursing through you for what the future held for you and Spike.

----------------------------------------- Main Master List

Permanent Tag List: @roseblue373 @flamencodiva @reignsboy19 @stillhere197 @foxyjwls007

@hobby27 @megs-gadom @cheekygirl2309 @mxtansy @ladysparkles78

@ambiguous-avery @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @my-stories-vault

[sabrinajenre96]

Little Scrubs and Sweet Spooks

Pairing: Conrad Hawkins x Resident!Reader

Word Count: ~3,000

Setting: Chastain Park Memorial, Hawkins home, Halloween night

---

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of baby powder and pumpkin spice as Y/N Hawkins adjusted her newborn son's soft, pumpkin-themed beanie. Five days past his one-month mark, baby Eli Hawkins blinked up at her with sleepy honey brown eyes that looked just like Conrad’s.

"Alright, Eli," she whispered, adjusting his snug orange onesie with “Cutest Pumpkin in the Patch” stitched in bold letters across the front. "You're all set to melt hearts at Chastain today."

From the hallway came the thunder of twin footsteps.

"Mom! I can’t find my stethoscope!" Ava Hawkins, the more spirited of the five-year-old twins, came barreling in, her little white coat flapping. She had a toy surgical mask pulled under her chin and a miniature ID badge that read "Dr. A. Hawkins — Future Cardiothoracic Surgeon."

"You left it in the kitchen next to the apple slices, remember?" Y/N said with a knowing smile. "Try not to misplace your tools, Doctor."

Behind her came Lily, more serene, already perfectly dressed in her pink scrubs and a toy badge that read "Nurse Lily Hawkins — Care Extraordinaire." Her blonde hair, tied in two neat buns, peeked out from under a toy nurse's cap.

"I helped Eli get dressed," Lily declared proudly. "He smiled at me."

"You both did an amazing job this morning," Y/N said, wrapping an arm around each twin. “Your dad’s going to lose it when he sees you.”

Before she could wrangle the girls into their jackets, the doorbell rang. Y/N opened it to reveal Marshall Winthrop, impeccably dressed in a dark blazer, holding a bag of treats in one hand and a cup holder with two lattes in the other.

"Thought I'd drop in early," he said. "Figured you'd need caffeine, and these two might like a ride in Grandpa’s car."

"Grandpa!" the twins squealed, launching into his arms. Marshall laughed, managing the lattes with surprising agility.

"Hey, hey, careful—these are hot!" He turned to Y/N with a wink. "You’re going to Chastain anyway. Why don’t I take you all? I’ve got a board meeting in twenty minutes, and I could use the company."

Y/N hesitated, but only for a moment. "You’re sure you don’t mind?"

"Of course not. Besides," he added, looking down at baby Eli now tucked into his car seat, "I haven’t seen this little guy in costume yet. My grandson is a pumpkin. That’s historic."

---

At Chastain

The main atrium of Chastain Park Memorial buzzed as always with a mix of urgency and calm. But when Marshall stepped through the glass doors, flanked by two tiny medical professionals and a pumpkin-shaped newborn in his daughter-in-law’s arms, heads turned.

"Excuse me," murmured Nurse Hundley, nearly walking into a cart. "Are those mini… uniforms?"

"They’re adorable!" exclaimed the front desk attendant.

The twins beamed, basking in the attention. Ava struck a pose with her toy scalpel. "I'm like Dr. Mina. She’s the best."

Lily chimed in, standing straighter. "I’m like nurse Nic. Nurses keep everything together."

Y/N laughed gently. "That’s completely unprompted."

A round of coos came from the nurses’ station as AJ Austin, walking past with Devon, paused mid-stride.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," AJ said, blinking. "Is that… is one of them dressed like Mina?"

"And the other like Nic," Devon added, leaning in to take a picture with his phone. "You win Halloween, Y/N."

Y/N smiled, bouncing Eli gently. "It was their idea. Ava’s obsessed with Mina, and Lily basically worships Nic."

As if on cue, Mina Okafor herself turned the corner and came to a screeching halt.

"What the… Is that—?"

"Ava Hawkins, Future You," Y/N teased.

Mina’s eyes scanned the child’s attire, from the expression to the confident stance. Then she slowly looked at Y/N.

"I’m flattered. Slightly disturbed, but flattered."

Then, without warning, Mina picked up Ava and twirled her.

"You're coming with me. I’m keeping you."

"No fair!" Lily cried.

"Sorry, kid," AJ said, laughing. "Surgeons steal things. It's part of the job."

"Should’ve gone into orthopedics," Devon said sagely.

---

Down the Hall

Conrad hadn’t seen a break in nearly five hours. Between consults, a trauma code, and the usual mountain of paperwork, he hadn't even looked at his phone. So when he finally emerged from a patient’s room, rubbing at his temples, he had no idea what was waiting just outside the nurse’s station.

"Dr. Hawkins," Voss called, smiling as she stepped aside. "Didn’t know we hired new staff."

Conrad turned—and froze.

There, standing side by side with absolute pride, were Ava and Lily. Ava immediately launched herself into his arms.

"Daddy!"

Conrad crouched down, overcome with a laugh that broke the tension of the day. "What—? You guys look incredible!"

"I'm Dr. Mina!" Ava said, puffing out her chest.

"And I'm Nurse Nic," Lily added sweetly, slipping her small hand into his.

"You nailed it," Conrad said, kissing them both before his eyes finally lifted—and softened—at the sight of Y/N holding their son.

"Eli," he murmured, already reaching. Y/N carefully handed over the bundled newborn.

"Did you dress him like a pumpkin?" he asked, chuckling.

"Pumpkin with hospital-grade snuggles," Y/N replied.

He stared down at the baby in his arms, overwhelmed by warmth. Eli gurgled in response, content as ever in his father's embrace.

"God, I love you," Conrad whispered into the baby's hat, before stealing a kiss from Y/N.

A small crowd had gathered at this point. Voss leaned in toward Y/N.

"I want one."

Y/N arched a brow. "A baby?"

"No. A mini-Mina. She can run the ER."

Mina appeared, arms crossed, Ava now clinging to her leg.

"You joke, but I’ve already started training her."

---

Later That Evening – The Suburbs

The Hawkins household stood proudly at the end of a winding cul-de-sac now aglow with Halloween decorations. By dusk, the neighborhood had transformed into a wonderland of skeletons, cobwebs, candy bowls, and excited children.

Conrad’s shift had ended just in time. After a quick change into jeans and a sweatshirt, he joined Y/N outside as she adjusted Eli in his stroller, now sporting a soft fleece pumpkin cover.

"You sure you don’t want to dress up?" he asked, nudging her.

"I’m good playing security and snack patrol," she replied. "This night’s all about the kids."

Ava and Lily were already darting from house to house, waving at neighbors and proudly declaring their names and costumes.

"I’m Dr. Ava Hawkins!"

"I’m Nurse Lily Hawkins!"

"And that’s our baby brother, Pumpkin Eli!" Ava yelled.

Y/N grinned, looping her arm through Conrad’s. "You know, they’ve been talking about this for a month. And it was your dad’s idea to bring them to Chastain."

"Yeah?" Conrad said, surprised. "Marshall actually did something thoughtful today?"

"Don’t push your luck," she teased. "He was good. Even brought coffee."

Conrad nodded, looking out over the happy chaos of children weaving through the sidewalk. “I needed this. After today? This is everything.”

Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder. “Happy Halloween, Dr. Hawkins.”

He turned, smiled softly, and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Happy Halloween, Dr. Hawkins.”

They stayed there like that, under the flickering glow of porch lights and jack-o-lanterns, watching as their daughters giggled and held hands, their newborn son quietly snoozing in his stroller—each one a reminder that even in the chaos of life and medicine, moments like these made everything whole.

---

End.

[marwhoa]

request: fem! reader, romantic, one shot. so the idea was the rise! boys (individual.) with a s/o who has thick unruly hair that curls after being wet. (like.. if their hair was at their shoulder blades it would curl to above their shoulder.. speaking from experience) the reader always straightens their hair bc they find the curls kind of ugly?? and in some turn of events the readers hair gets wet and curls in front of em and get all embarrassed but they are consoled or sumthin!! very fluffy idea and it's not super deep :^( soz!

🝮 “ errand day ”

rise!boys x curly-haired!y/n

author’s note: no need to apologize, love :33 but wow this one took me a bit. I didn’t know if I wanted to do it cause I have straight hair, so this required investigation, interviewing, and research! Hopefully my findings resulted in a relatable read 😎 the request was for a fem!y/n, so there are some tidbits indicating feminine identity :))

word count: 4.9k

The schedule for today was nothing special, just a couple of errands and a visit to some oddball friends of yours. Going over the to-do list for today, you hummed under the warm water and scrubbed shampoo through each layer of your thick curls. Dread washed over you through fatigued arms, tired from hovering over your head and getting to work.

With a huff, you plopped conditioner into your hand, thudded the bottle down onto its shelf, and then worked the conditioner from the middle and end of your hair. How much easier would this whole thing be if your hair was straight—quicker, too. No need to walk through layers, ensuring each section got ample cleansing, just a simple touch and go. 15 minutes flat, and you’re out!

But no, here you were, having passed through more than enough songs in your shower playlist to constitute well over an hour.

“ What a bother.. ”

You mumbled, turning the nozzle for the shower straight to off and tugging down a shirt to scrunch your hair dry with. With a towel wrapped to dry the rest of you, you stepped out onto the bath mat, stared at the products, blow dryer, and straightener eagerly awaiting your daily routine, and felt your shoulders get even heavier.

Look at the bright side, surely you’ll grow muscles eventually from this, right? Having your arms up all the time, getting to work on such an unruly, mind-of-it’s-own head of hair?

Right?

After almost two hours of working your magic of taming the beast into straight, silky locks, you finally were released from that lab of a bathroom, ready to venture out and begin your errand run. First on the list, groceries! Your fridge was running pretty dry, and that just wouldn’t do, now would it?

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Mikey 💌

It wouldn’t truly be Mikey if you weren’t given periodical check-ups, messages asking how it’s going—and it definitely wouldn’t be Mikey if responding to these messages didn’t instantly open the door to any old conversation in the book.

♡ MICHEL

how successful is the grocery run

YOU

they were somehow out of bread? How is that even possible? The whole bread aisle, gone?

♡ MICHEL

ohhh…

ur not going to like this

[sent an image]

You gawked at your phone upon being sent a selfie stating your dearest, Mikey, and some sort of… giant loaf? Behind him?

YOU

Dang

Can you save me some bread off him?

♡ MICHEL

Gross

But tempting…

Maybe! ᗡᗡ:

You shook your head and pocketed your device, continuing to rummage through the aisles for the last items on your list. At least they have everything else. Unless some sort of “ Milk & Eggs ” monster intends to turn its head in your direction. With a cart full and a list fully crossed out, you went on forth to pay, bag, and head back to base to drop off the goods! Next on the list was going to b—

“ Y/N! ”

There was no chance to respond or even look before you were swept up in familiar arms. Grip tight on the plastic bags, a scream got caught in your throat as your eyes locked with Mikey’s. Why hadn’t he told you the battle closed in on where you were? Not a text or a call? He placed you down a couple streets later, flicking his nunchucks to return to the battlefield—but, not without planting a kiss on your cheek.

“ Sorry, didn’t want you to become toast! ”

With a wink, he shot off, and your hand dove for your phone to send a text.

Of course, that’s when you saw the incoming messages.

NOTIFICATIONS

You have four new messages!

———————————————————

♡ MICHEL 1m ago

I SEE U, GOING 2 GET U K?

♡ MICHEL 3m ago

Aw man, Savers Saturday, look, Doughy’s made it … (expand message)

♡ MICHEL 4m ago

You’re at Anchor’s Market, aren’t you?

♡ MICHEL 4m ago

Are you on Fourth and Avenue?

… Alright, so maybe he won’t get chewed out. You laughed lightly, continuing home to drop off groceries when suddenly a blur zipped straight past you and completely drilled through the wall beside you. Stunned silent, you slowly followed its aim of trajection to see none other than “ ♡ Michel~ “ getting launched down Fourth street, taking parts of the street with him.

So much for not becoming toast, huh?

“ Mikey! ”

You rushed to his side after he hadn’t popped straight up like usual. He was a bit dazed, staring at the sky when you approached.

“ Whoa.. what a pretty Angel.. ”

“ Why you—shut up, you flirt, are you okay? ”

“ I am now.. ”

He groaned, taking your hand as you helped him up. Leaning against you for a second, he inhaled sharply then jumped up.

“ Alright, I’m ready! Oh, but you’re too close to the fight, Y/N, I should—“

You shushed him with your index against his lips, shaking your head then pointing at the rather large… behemoth… Breadhemoth? No? Okay.

“ I’ll be fine, just focus on thaaAAHH! ”

Your eyes trailed up to yet another projectile, this time zeroed in on Mikey, and he was quick to pull you close and turn with his back to the bullet.

With a heavy THUNK, the bread ammo bounced off his shell and managed to pulverize a fire hydrant right beside you both. Right as the water spouted out, the creature neared. Alongside it came Mikey’s brothers, whose attention zeroed in on the geyser shooting from the damaged hydrant.

“ Michael, you genius! ”

Shouted his brother, Donatello, as he gestured to the water. The brother in red, Raph, followed his point and nodded, slamming his fists together with a grin.

“ Right, water will make this big guy all soggy! ”

Just as they instantly went along with this plan, Mikey was a step away from joining before all his boyfriend senses shot off at once. Subtle sniffling reached his ears, and he was quick to whirl back around to make sure you hadn’t been hurt.

While physically intact, you were sopping wet, and it was then that his attention trailed straight to your hair.

“ St—Stop LOOKING, Mikey! ”

Your hands rose to feebly hide the growing lion’s mane, your straightened curls frizzing like an aggravated cat’s fur. All those hours of work, ruined by some run-of-the-mill New York trouble—and in front of your boyfriend of all people, who had yet to see your hair’s natural state. Before that sight, you expected disgust or, or insults—something! Anything, along the same caliber as you thought when you would see such thick curls in the mirror.

Instead, the opposite came. A soft voice and delicate touch, grasping for your wrists and gently bringing them away from your face. You flinched, jerking them back, but his motions remained. Soon, you relented and let him move your hands back to your sides.

“ Hey, Y/N, it’s okay. Did that scare you? ”

Picking up on what might’ve actually upset you, he danced around it, and you simply averted your gaze.

“ Your hair—“

“ Don’t. ”

“ No, it’s—I love it. ”

You stiffened, taken aback beyond belief. It was a reaction unlike any you had expected. Many people before him had less than savory words to say, like “ fix that rats nest before you go out! ” or “ wow, you’re not even going to try? ”, or even “ wow, bad hair day? ”.

Never love, though. He loved your hair? Even, even in such a sopping, frizzy state?

“ You’re fibbing.. ”

Your lips quivered into a pout, and inadvertently you tugged for your wrists to be free.

He let go, but only to wipe clear your rolling tears. Mikey leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead, tucking and brushing some unruly clumps of hair out of your face.

“ Of course I do, just look at it? There’s a bit of heat damage, but for the most part it’s so long and healthy! What’s not to love? You should wear it like this more, in fact! ”

With such a genuine, beaming smile, there was no doubt in your mind whether he was telling the truth or not. Through in and through out, he loved your hair..

Maybe..

Maybe you could learn to love it, too…?

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Raph 💌

Would it really be an errand run without Raph jumping to the opportunity to tag along in some way, shape, or form? Albeit out of the public eye, down winding roads with narry a soul in sight, Raph accompanied you on the trek to Silver Market. Partly to spend whatever time he could with you, partly to protect you from whatever threats lurked down New York streets—no matter the hour!—, and partly because he just didn’t fancy the idea of you carrying heavy groceries home alone.

Not like you minded any of these things. His time was always appreciated—so, you snuck a kiss on the cheek just before the Market’s street.

“ I’ll try to be quick, okay? ”

“ Take ya time, Y/N, ‘m in no rush. ”

He returned the kiss, stepping back to meld into the shadows in a way that never ceased to amaze you. … or scare, if even just a teensy bit, because how the hell?

But whatever, you turned on your heel and ducked into the air conditioned market to begin going down your list.

At the same time, Raph waited outside, watching the people pass by, none the wiser of his presence. His eyes trailed to the sky above, noting the diminishing sunlight. Odd, considering the hour, but as his eyes caught the darkened clouds, it made total sense. It must’ve been bad weather moving in.

Raph turned to the alley’s entrance, searching for you. As a smile crept on his dreamy, dazed expression, he couldn’t help but think of how much happier he was when you were brought up. Without fail, the thought of your cute li’l self brought smiles for days. And who would he be, if he didn’t fight to protect you?

See, he and his brothers used to fight for the sole purpose of protecting the New York people, but after meeting you?

Well, he couldn’t help but be driven to clear the streets of crime just so that you would have a safe place to be. Evil-doers should always beware of a hero with something to protect, because he would stop at nothing—

Nothing. He thought, watching you finally peek the corner and rush over, to ensure you stayed safe.

You trotted down the alley, looking every which way for him. Assumedly he would have stayed here, right? Unless something happened? You fished out your phone, two seconds from shooting out a text to get his attention when a shifting of shadows caught your eye. Of course, you smiled as your beloved hero stepped out with a toothy grin, you should have known he was staying there.

“ I finished! ”

“ Raph can tell. Let me help—“

He bent down, slipping the bags from your hand with ease, and purposely leaving you with the lightest one. You rolled your eyes playfully and began walking the way back. It wasn’t long before you noticed the dark overcast, not the distant rumbling as you looked over your shoulder towards its direction. It’s going to rain soon, you thought, twirling your straightened locks in your fingers.

“ Yer nervous. Scared o’thunder? ”

You shoved Raph away, laughing, as he neared you with that goofy grin of his.

“ You could say that. More like I just don’t want to get wet. ”

He nodded thoughtfully, picking up the slack.

“ Then let’s get movin’ ”

Despite the quickened pace, the rain was faster and eventually caught up with you both right before you reached the steps of your complex. Both of you rushed in, slamming the door behind you and breathing heavily from the sprint. Slouched over with your hands resting against your knees, you couldn’t help but notice the cascading locks that were curling up. Grocery bags thudding against the floor as your hands made quick work to push the hair behind you, out of your face in a feeble attempt to hide it behind you. As lighting illuminated the room, it’s loud KAKOOM echoing, Raph noticed your uncharacteristic quietness.

“ Y/N? ”

Raph rose to full height once he caught his breath, watching you with a confused look as your face flushed with embarrassment. Tears welled up and fell down your cheeks in large globs, immediately startling him.

“ Wh—! What’sa matter, Suga’? ”

Just as lightning flashed outside, Raph was right in front of you with his forearm resting against the door. Leaning down, his hand held your face delicately and wiped away the tears.

“ Is it the storm? ”

You shook your head, pushing him away. Realistically you could never move him, but of course he wouldn’t do anything to upset you, thus letting himself be knocked aside. Raph watched your frame retreat deeper into the apartment, likely to your room, and waited a couple moments before he pursued.

It wasn’t hard to pick up the soft sobs over the rain, but soon a gentle knock on your door roused your attention.

“ Go away, Raph.. ”

You slurred your words through tears, rubbing them away while cursing your ruined hair.

“ Y/N, suga’ please, can Raph come in.. ”

No fair, you thought as your hand reached for the door knob, he knew using a voice that gentle would always get to you.. With a subtle click, the door would creak open until finally the green and red peeked in. He found you on the floor and sat.

“ Oh.. Is it ya hair? ”

Cocking his head curiously, you couldn’t help but sneer and avert your gaze. That was answer enough, apparently, since he seemed to exhale and mutter “ thank pizza supreme ”. Confused, you stared at him with enraged sadness. He was thankful? Glad you were upset about your hair? You opened your mouth to chew him out, only to be tugged into his lap and hugged.

“ I was worried it was sum worse. Why’s ya hair the problem, ‘cuz ‘s not so straight no more? ”

The gentleness with which he twirled his finger in your hair had quelled your anger if not just a teensy bit.

“ Yeah, it’s… It’s hideous, unruly, I hate my curls! ”

Your hands rose to yank on the curls that dared rear their heads from the rain, but big warm hands caught yours before they could.

“ Ya hate ‘em? But suga’, they’re a part a’ya, and I love all o’you. What’s to hate? ”

Sending it wasn’t a question but rather a statement, you held your tongue and watched him.

“ The way they frame ya face, how they have no single direction, well I’d be damned to not love ya in any form, Y/N. Ya hair makes ya look like some cute vixen, and they, well.. ”

He seemed a bit bashful, escaping your gaze and shifting his view to all over the room instead.

“ I like ‘em cause they remind me a’my spiky shell, what with how they jump out atcha! ”

With a beaming smile that big, you couldn’t help but snort and bury your face in his chest.

“ You goof.. ”

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Leo 💌

Leo wasn’t one to let you go long without hearing from him, but as you ran your errands and eventually made it back home, the silence on his line had been a bit unnerving. So, with the produce shuffled into your fridge, cabinets restocked, and every inch of the house replenished to all its glory, you swiped up your phone and gave him a ring.

“ Alright, tough guy, what’s the deal? ”

You playfully growled, tapping your fingers along the counter as he sputtered confusedly at the end of the line.

“ All day, and not a word from you? What am I, chopped liver? Doesn’t the sweetest girlfriend to New York’s hero deserve even a little bit of ‘phone blowing-up’ treatment? ”

The laugh on the other side was enough to enliven you. Leo continued talking, so you straightened up and made your way to the couch before stopping to almost a skidding halt.

“ Wait, you’re where—?! ”

Looking to the window behind your TV, the silhouette on the fire escape made a scream catch in your throat. It was none other than Leo, who hung up and came in after sliding open the window.

“ I said I’m here, now get on your finest swimsuit, mi amor, for I have found the world’s greatest spot! ”

“ Wh—Leo, What?! It’s—“

You whirled around, staring at the clock displayed on your oven.

“ It’s 8 pm, Leo, can’t it wait til tomorrow? ”

“ Nonsense, now hurry and change before I change you myself. ”

His hands grab your shoulders, tugging until you’re at the door of your room. He taps, faking as though he’s wiping dust off, then gives you a push into the room. Leo winks before closing the door, likely waiting right outside for you, so you kick away an imaginary rock and start to change.

“ NoNsEnSe, he says.. ”

Grumbled under your breath, you adjust the straps on your top while in the mirror. Once done, your focus settles on your hair, still in moderately good condition from this morning’s straightening. Better safe than sorry, you conclude, as you neatly pull your hair up with a bandana that just so happened to match your top. Strands are tucked away before you give a curt nod and go to open the door.

“ I heard that, by the way. ”

Leo looks down at you with a side eye, grinning as you roll your eyes.

“ Whatever, lead the way, bully. ”

One second, you’re standing in the hallway of your New York apartment, the next second you’re staring across an inky lake that’s captured the sky’s likeness, with stars rippling like fish on it’s surface. A gentle breeze rolled by, tugging at your hand, beckoning you forwards to greet the water. Stress, fatigue, even fear slip off your shoulders, as though the lake itself were taking the uncomfortable coat off to hang up on a hook.

“ Leo… ”

Your voice was meek, paling in comparison to the sight laid out before you.

Leo smiled, letting you take in the view a bit longer. He stepped down the dock, it’s creaking catching your ear as he neared its end. Even the groaning wood under the weight of its visitors was charming.

“ I’m waiting.”

Leo smirked, standing in his signature “ go on, applaud me—PRAISE me ” pose. You simply rolled your eyes and approached him, dropping down to sit at the dock’s edge. Your feet dipped into the abyss, met by a crisp temperature that begged your immersion into the depths.

“ Fine, this is pretty good.. YOU did good, though I could’ve been spared the on-the-spot forced dress-up. ”

The water was disturbed by Leo leaping in, to which you shielded yourself from the splash back. He was greeted by you scolding him for not giving a warning, brushing it off with laughter.

The night air was filled with banter between two lovebirds, with Leo trying his damndest to coax you in with him, and you’re dodging each with yet another quip. As the minutes melted into hours, the stars couldn’t help but focus on you both. Their lights reflected in your eyes, blinding Leo into a lovesick haze as he couldn’t do anything but just..

stare…

“ What, is there something on my face? ”

Confused, your hands searched your face, tucking aside a strand. Inspection complete, nothing out of the ordinary, you looked back to Leo and found his expression had shifted to a more devious one.

Uh oh.

You somehow knew what was coming next.

“ Leo—Leo, no, don’t you dare—-“

His hand shot out, grabbing yours.

“ LEO—NO, NOOOOO—!!! ”

Yanked forth, the world seemed to slow down as you screamed out, plunged under. Your eyes peeled open, stinging slightly, but catching a glimpse of the purest enjoyment painted across your boyfriend’s face.

As you both resurfaced, with his laugh now audible, you gave a huff and wiped tears and dripping water from your face.

“ You play too much, Leo, I said no! ”

His expression dimmed, dropping like a fallen curtain as he watched you grab the floating bandana. Enraged, hurt eyes glared at him, but he couldn’t focus at all on them as your hair began curling into the most gorgeous display he had ever laid eyes on. This was the first time he saw your hair this way, not straightened, but rather..

“ And stop staring, I know it’s ugly! ”

“ Stop that. ”

“ Wh—? ”

Stunned, you looked to him. There was no hate in his eyes, no disgust or repulsion. Your frizzy curls were there, bright as day, yet here he was staring at you as if your beauty never faltered…

“ Stop calling yourself ugly—frankly it’s an insult to me, the king of gorgeous faces who would never dare date an ugly woman—but even worse, it’s an insult to the most beautiful girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of calling mine. ”

Leo’s hand cupped your cheek, pulling you in to plant a kiss on your lips.

“ But, how—why aren’t they ugly to you? ”

“ Uh, because I said so, that’s why. ”

“ That’s n—LEO! ”

Definitely done as a move to win this argument, Leo’s arms wrapped around yours firmly. Your body lifted straight out of the water before being dunked unceremoniously.

While your hair was already wet, he didn’t have to make it more wet!

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Donnie 💌

By the time your errands adjourned, it was a quarter past 4, and you were heading home. The walk had been rather tame, as quiet as it could be for a city regularly wrecked by mutants, aliens you name it. Today would have gone down in the books as the most normal, had you not gotten a message from your beloved requiring your presence at the soonest available time. Something about a new project coming to its end?

Whatever it was, you shot off a response that said your company would come once groceries were up. The other errands planned for the day could wait, especially since you were just itching to see whatever it could be that had him so needy for you to be in the lab.

“ Bags empty, trash cleared away, house—“

You gave a once-over to your living room and kitchen countertops before nodding with a hum of approval. It would appear that Donnie’s chariot would arrive, post-haste, without a second to spare.

Thus, keys in pocket, jacket donned, and shoes tied, you left your apartment complex and made your way towards the least shadiest alleyway to simply “ disappear into. ”

In record time, you were approaching the lair from the winding underground pathways, and giving quick hellos to each brother you passed. Your being in the lair wasn’t exactly a rare sight, but whenever you were here, it was usually always for Donnie. So, none of the brothers would really hold you long—lest they wanted to risk a brotherly wrath.

“ Donnie~? ”

Your sing-songy call was accompanied by a rapping upon his lab’s doors, which slid open shortly after with a “ fwssh ” and gust of smoke. You coughed, wafting it away as you stepped into the room.

Unbeknownst you you, your hair had already began reacting to the rather humid lab, lifting into the curls they so dearly longed to return to.

“ Ah, Y/N, your timing is much appreciated! ”

While his voice came from god knows where, your eyes landed upon his figure emerging from curtains that you were sure had to have been a new addition to the lab. Maybe his experiment was behind there? His greasy hands were rubbed into clothes, leaving behind oil marks as he pushed up his goggles and shot you his characteristic grin.

“ Just behind this curtain is a contraption that shall better the lair, an update to my previous ‘betterments’—a betterment to the betterments, so to say! ”

Whatever point he was trying to make went straight over your head as you simply nodded affectionately, trying to follow as best you could.

“ Right, right, Donnie. But, dear, can you please enlighten me with what was sooooo important you had to interrupt errands day? ”

Without a word, it seemed as if a lightbulb went off in Donnie’s head as he nodded and reached for the curtain.

“ So, it should come to no surprise to anyone how much the new lair has needed robot assistants! ”

“ It really doesn’t—“

“ Nonsense, so of course you are the first one I thought of when I felt Odie should be introduced to someone! ”

“ Oh you’ve named him already? ”

You leaned your weight on your left leg, hand perched neatly on your hip as you waved your hand. Donnie shushed you as he reached for the curtain to reveal his newest creation!

“ Ta-da! ”

Behind the curtain stood the blocky silhouette of a robot—one made with parts you were sure you recognized from a certain animatronic, but never mind that. There was something a tad bit weirder.

“ Why Odie? ”

“ I show you my genius, and you linger in the name? ”

To your eager nod, he could only give a loud sigh, literally labeled aloud as “ loud sigh. ”

“ Odie, otherwise known as 0-D-1-3, his model number. Now—“

Before he could turn back to the bot, a loud clanking sound got both of your attentions.

“ Oh, that’s not good—“

“ What’s not good?! ”

Both of you stared directly at the bot after it took a hefty step forward, clattering down a hammer to hit the floor. Its oculars shifted mechanically around the room before settling in you and Donnie. An unsettling smile began to grow on the analog mouth it had, but just before it spoke, its foot stepped on the fallen hammer. Slipping immediately, the creation slammed into the lab’s hard floors, buzzed and circuited, then promptly stopped.

“ … Dam—“

As though censored by an otherworldly being, the bot exploded, sending Donnie diving for you instantly to shield you from harm’s way. The sprinklers caught on shortly after the smoke reached the ceiling, and he simply exhaled annoyedly into a recorder as he went on about “ attempted 26, failed ”. He continued to look over you, free hand resting right beside your waist as he detailed this outcome.

You, on the other hand, were both spooked by what happened in a matter of seconds, and also the water raining down in you. There wasn’t even a chance of you processing how close your boyfriend was, nor the precarious position, all paling in comparison to the heaviness waying over your chest at the way your hair was gradually lifting off your shoulder. Shrinking from the long silky locks, you were sure that unruly mess of curls were all coiling up into their snakelike appearance that you cursed every morning in the mirror.

Whilst speaking, Donnie’s eyes wandered until they caught your teary, paled expression. He had noticed the new hair style, but the importance of that was far below the importance of ensuring you were okay.

“ Dearest, what’s the matter? ”

He searched your body for wounds, calling Sheldon to bring a towel as the sprinklers halted. Once brought, he wrapped you in it, but flinched when you tried to push him back.

“ Hey—“

“ Don’t touch me—don’t look at me! ”

Baffled beyond belief, all Donnie could do was slouch back and watch you with analyzing eyes. His gaze scanned and scanned, searching for what might have caused such a reaction, but all he could come up with was: cold & wet, hair no longer straight like usual, shoved to the floor after robot exploded. He could only hope you wouldn’t blame him for struggling to figure out the problem.

“ I… I’m sorry if that spooked you.. ”

“ It’s not that. ”

You answered, flinching when he suddenly rose his voice and asked “ then what is it? ”, a statement leaking with desperation and a tinge of fear. You scrunched your eyes closed, closing in on yourself with a tight hug, balled up beneath the towel.

“ It’s… My hair, I.. I spent so long on it, just for it to turn into this ugly mess.. ”

Donnie was confused, something you couldn’t blame him for. After all, you were diligent in your hair-straightening or concealing the curls, so this just might have been the first time he’d seen them in their true nature. What you didn’t account for, though, was the hurt expression he shifted into. Silence lingered for a bit before his gaze shifted to the device on his arm.

After a bit, even you were curious. He had nothing to say? Was he just going to let you sit there and cry?

“ What’re you doing? ”

“ Checking my data. ”

“ Huh? ”

Donnie looked up, scooting to sit beside you and showed some sort of pie chart projected. He twirled a stylus and used it to slide the projection, focusing on certain parts.

“ Mhmm… so, this is the breakdown of your identity—this aspect, ”

He points to personality, glancing to you to make sure you’re watching.

“ See that is a huge chunk of who you are, and this part, intelligence? Obviously that is high as well. ”

You wiped your eyes, trying to figure out why any of this was important. He continued on, pointing to bits and then pointing out how integral they were to your being.

“ What’s your point, Donnie.. ”

Defeated, you sighed out. Tears dried, heart heavy, curls..

Unfurled.

“ My point is, Y/N, that ‘ugly’ has no place in your data. I for one am a genius who speaks in strictly facts, so your insistence on false information? Highly insulting. ”

His hand cups your cheek, and you welcome the touch with a scrunched, pained expression. Tears threaten to spill once again.

“ You’re beautiful, my dearest, every bit of you. That does not exclude your curls, which are also you. ”

Donnie leans in, placing a soft, lingering kiss upon your forehead. You grip his hand, which then turns into interlocked fingers, and sob softly into his chest. He rubs circles on your back, and you can’t help but begin to hear the seedlings of thought in your head say nice things about your natural hair.

“ I love you, Y/N. ”

[etherisks]

– A MOTH'S ANATOMY

Scaramouche x Reader

⊹ notes ﹒˚ ₊ ︵ 

> scaramouche!! not wanderer!! so before the character development and healing journey he started…

> angst. because i've been feeling angsty for a few days and got hit with a major depressive beam

> modern au because why not; i've always been fond of envisioning those ( · ❛ ֊ ❛)

word count: 1,005

--------・୨ ✦ ୧・--------

The city pulsed like a fever dream, neon arteries bleeding into asphalt veins, and you had walked through all of it with Scaramouche’s ghost humming in your bones. It wasn’t love, not the kind that came with violins or valentines—it was something sharper, a shard of glass lodged in the meat of your chest, glinting every time you turned toward the memory of his laugh. You had met under a sky smeared with the kind of stars only visible from rooftops, where the air tasted like ozone and recklessness. He had handed you a match with a grin that said burn everything, and you had struck it against your ribs; now the world was ash.

He was everywhere. In the way the subway’s screech echoed the pitch of his voice when he was unraveling. In the sticky residue of old graffiti tags you’d find on alley walls, half-scrubbed but nonetheless still stubbornly clinging to the one thing they knew. Even the rain here carried his scent—burnt coffee and a faint hint of vanilla, a contradiction that made your teeth ache, like a love letter scribbled on a diner receipt. Performative, as if softening those scorching edges, though failing to.

You’d tried to leave once — you’d bought a bus ticket to a town with a name like a sigh, but had turned back at the terminal when a street musician played a melody; a symphony that had felt like your sternum being cracked open, your ribs being squeezed. Scaramouche had hummed that tune while threading a butterfly bandage over your skinned knee after you’d chased him through a construction site at midnight, your shared laughter bouncing off of the stagnant cranes. Now, the song was a hook in your diaphragm, reeling you toward the places he might be: dive bars with flickering signs, all-night diners where the coffee tasted like punishment, (you’d never understood why he liked it so bitter, though maybe that was simply a testament to his character) the bridge where he’d once spat a cherry pit into the river and swore it would grow into a tree.

Both of you collided in cycles, your orbits tilting too close every few months. You’d find him leaning against a pool table, eyes like lit fuses, and he’d croon “missed you, sunshine” in a voice that sandblasted your resolve. You’d trade dares instead of truths—scale fire escapes, pocket trinkets from thrift stores, race stolen shopping carts down hills—until the high wore off, and you’d remember why you swore to quit him. He’d vanish for weeks, leaving you with a hangover of silence, until a postcard would arrive, unsigned, bearing a single word: burn. You’d tear it up, sweep the pieces into the trash, then dig them out at 3 a.m., fitting jagged edges together like a penitent parsing scripture.

The worst part was the way he mirrored your hunger. Scaramouche didn’t love you; he loved the way you fractured for him, the cracks he could press his fingers into. He’d spin stories of the road, of strangers who’d tasted his chaos and spat him out, and you’d pretend not to notice the way his hands shook when he lit a joint. You were both fugitives, he said, from the mundane, the mortal, the middling. But you knew the truth: he was just afraid of stillness. Stillness meant facing the hollow in his chest, the one he stuffed with noise and narcotics and you. You’d seen it once, when he’d passed out on your couch, his face slack as a dropped mask. In sleep, he looked twelve years old.

One October night, you found him in a basement club, half-hidden behind a curtain of cigarette smoke. The band onstage was murdering a Bowie cover, and he was arguing with a girl in a sequined jacket, their words slicing the air. When he spotted you, his scowl flipped into a smirk. “Rescue me,” he mouthed, and like always, you stepped into the blade. Both of you spilled into the alley, where he pressed a flask to your lips—cheap whiskey and regret—and said, “Let’s get tattoos.” You laughed, but he was already pulling you toward a parlor whose sign buzzed like a dying wasp.

The needle’s bite felt like absolution. Scaramouche chose a moth on his collarbone, wings spread toward his throat. “So I’ll remember,” he said, though he didn’t finish. You had picked an anchor, tiny and crude, on your wrist. A joke. A plea. He kissed the ink raw afterward, his mouth a brand, and you let him, because pain was a language you both spoke fluently.

By winter, the anchor had faded to a bruise-blue smudge. You’d stopped answering his calls, changed your route to avoid his haunts, but he seeped in through the cracks—a lyric scribbled on a bathroom stall, a stranger’s scarf fluttering his cologne. Then, on a Tuesday sharp with frost, he appeared at your door, pupils blown wide, clutching a stolen motorcycle helmet. “Let’s go somewhere that doesn’t exist,” he slurred, and for a heartbeat, you almost said yes. His fingers brushed yours, cold as a guillotine, and you recoiled. “You’re a fucking ghost,” you hissed. “And you haunt wrong.”

He had left without a word. The next morning, news crackled about a crash on the interstate—a bike wrapped around a guardrail, no helmet. You ran until your lungs screamed, past the bridge, the diner, the tattoo parlor, finally collapsing in a park where you’d once fed ducks stolen bread. The birds were gone. The pond had iced over.

Months later, you’ll board a bus at dawn, a duffel bag heavy with unspoken apologies. As the engine roars, a familiar melody will drift through the station—a busker’s harmonica, wavering but alive. You’ll hesitate, one foot on the step, and for a breath, the world will split. Then you’ll climb aboard, anchor-first, and let the road unspool. Somewhere behind you, a moth beats its wings. Somewhere ahead, the sky bleeds into something softer.

✦•·················•✦•·················•✦

[xplicitviewz]

MISTRESS

maid!reader x married!erenxreader

Silly notes: MDNI! cheating trope, reader calls Eren "Sir" & {<3} indicates reader :)

Eren didn't mean to, but he did personally hire you, there was just something about you…

You were walking around the neighborhood looking for new work- your boss, well, old boss as of 30 minutes ago, just let you go. Deciding against going through the process of answering gigs on Facebook or Craigslist, you start knocking on doors. Plus, you were already in a well-off neighborhood, so someone had to need or maybe even give in to the idea of having a regular housekeeper. When Eren opens the door, you flinch back as you were leaving your business card at the crack of the door after thinking no one was home.

"You scared me." You laugh softly before you start professionally advertising yourself begging for a job, "Hello, Im {</3}, I am a housekeeper looking for work," you know... the works. Eren was working from home, barely hearing the doorbell go off at first. He was surprised himself thinking it was the regular delivery people needing a package signed off.

Eren didn't mean to disregard Mikasa when she would tell him there was no need for a maid, but he convinced her (time after time) that you were a good investment. He knew how busy they both were with their shared company. The amount of hours they spent at the office, "That way we can just come home and relax after a long day and spend time with each other." He kissed softly under her ear leaving a small trail down her neck, and pulling her close into his body in a way she changed her mind.

Eren didn't mean to adjust his schedule so he could work from home more than usual. Leaving both of you alone together while his wife works at the office. Eren glances up from his annoyingly bright computer and number of papers scattered across his desk once he hears the footsteps of (<3).

Eren didn't intend to watch you walk by, subconsciously sucking in a breath. He definitely didn't intend for his eyes to trail up and down your body as you walked by (in slow motion to him), his eyes focused on your ass in those black tights, the way your thighs rub against each other, pushing the mini cart carrying cleaning supplies. He swears it was on purpose when one of the disposable gloves falls on the floor, watching as you pick it up.

Eren didn't want to pump his dick in his hand, but his thoughts ran crazy. He didn't even bother to get up from his office chair to at least crack the door shut. He had his head leaned back, while manspreaded in his office chair. Eren bit his lower lip, holding back his quiet grunts and whines, his chest heaving while his abs flexed. all over his hands while he pictures your own hands (the ones he got to look at weekly when handing you a check for your services), tending to his selfish, dirty needs. Eren moves his hands faster up and down is dick, using his ither hand to rub his tip. Choking back a moan, his abs tense at the stimulation he you was giving himself. "Shit (<3)." He mutters, throwing his head back into his office chair, his legs spreading further apart as his hip buckle. Eren’s mind flashes to you bending over to pick up the glove. It didn't take long for him to cum, spurts of it landing on his shirt, and all over his hands. Eren didn't expect to think about you multiple times while he was buried deep in Mikasa, later in the day.

Eren didn't mean to accidentally come across {<3} (he purposely looked for you.) slightly bent over cleaning the bathtub. Eren couldn't help but feel his erection grow harder as he saw your perfectly plump ass moving while you scrub the tub.

It was out of his control when he grabbed your hips, pressing his bulge into you. His hands find the waistband of your tights as he pulls them down. He slowly thrust his throbbing cock (with too many fabrics in his way) on you through your panties. "Keep cleaning." He spanks your ass, getting on his knees placing his hands around your thighs, his grip tightening as he pulled you closer to him.

"I-" you stumble your words, "Sir, I don't thi-" but you get cut off by Eren's tongue licking you through your panties, letting out a groan from between your legs while he gropes your ass. Your lips part, letting out a soft gasp as you try to ignore the arousal growing and focus on cleaning the tub. Eren pulls your panties down, his tongue teasingly plays with your pussy soon forgetting the words that were going to leave your mouth.

You couldn't believe the way you were pathetically begging for more while Eren's fingers went in and out of you. "Oh fu-fuck" you whimper out arching your back and pushing your ass into his fingers. Your walls clenching and spewing more as he's degrading you, sucking and nipping lightly on the back of your bruised thighs. "Slutty ass pussy," his teeth sinking harder into your sensitive skin.

Your eyes flutter when you feel him add another finger in. The scrub brush hits the bottom of the tub after it slips out of your gloved hands and finds its way to the bath wall. He adds another finger, scissoring them. You push your ass further back wanting more. The previous thoughts of right and wrong went straight out your head after feeling his tongue sucking around your puffy clit.

Eren's arms snake around your thighs holding your trembling legs open and still, nose deep in your gushy cunt. His moans vibrate through your body, eyes rolling. "P-please sir." You whimper (begging) at his never-ending torment.

Only then did Eren part away, admiring you bent over, hands placed on the shower wall, legs spread open. He licks his lips, moaning at the taste of you as his dick throbs in his pants. You let out a low whine, squirming your hips at the loss of his touch, earning a small chuckle from him.

"Do I have to teach you to use your words properly?" He spanks your ass hard and your body jerks forward, knees hitting the outside of the tub. "No, Sir." You croak out as he spanks you again. You wiggle your hips again, wanting- needing more. He sucked his teeth, "Such an eager little thing hm." Your knees buckle, clenching on air. He spits on your drooling needy little cunt, blowing softly at your winking hole. Eren watches as his saliva drips down your folds, straight to your clit.

"Please, Sir, I want more." You whisper through your soft whimpers. Eren smirks licking against your clit, circling it a few times, up to your entrance. His tongue fucking you while he palms himself. He sucks on your clit and pulls his dick out his pants, moaning in relief when he starts jerking himself off again. You squirmed your hips in his face side to side moaning at the vibrations he was creating.

It wasn’t long before he had his cock buried in you, your back pressed against his clothed chest, your shirt raised up over your chest. His hands are snaked around you, one groping your boobs and the other wrapped around your neck, while his cock pounds in to you, leaving you a moaning hot-mess. Such filthy words he was saying, filthy words that were getting you off.

“Look at you, about to cum on a married man’s cock.” He groans into your ear, biting the shell. Your pussy dripping, gripping his cock so good, better than anything he has ever felt before. You whine out, arching your back even more. His hand drops from your boob to your clit, rubbing circles. “P-please sir, so so close.” You moan, your hips rock against his thrusts.

“Fuck, cum, cum all over my cock, wanna feel how hard you cum fucking your boss hmmm.” He hums rubbing your wet puffed out clit faster, fucking you harder. Your eyes roll and you see white dots as you cum gushing all over his cock. Legs tremble as he places your hands on the wall and grips your hips, pounding in you sensitive hole mercilessly. Your hands slip as your mouth drops open. He holds you up when your knees buckle, “Fuck you take me so well, pussy so stretched out from my dick, can’t even stand anymore.” Eren spanks your ass, the slap echos as your body jumps nearly hitting your head on the shower wall. “How are you gonna finish cleaning my house hmm. Maybe I should fill you up so you are dripping my cum out of you. That’ll give you a reason to scrub my floors, give me a reason to fuck your slutty pussy all over again.” He teasingly chuckles, as his nails grip into your hips creating crescents.

“Yes please.” You moan out desperately trying to hold your arms up again, every snap of his hips make your hands slip on the shower tile. “Shit, you better take all of it then.” Eren moans, throwing his head back as he feels his balls squeeze and dick throb inside, he grabs your hair pulling you back into a mean arch, his pace moving impossibly faster.

“Please, give i- it to m-me sir plea-nnghhh- please.” Your loud moans echo the bathroom alongside skin slapping against each other. Eren lets out a loud whimper/grunt as he cums deep inside you, holding you in place as he fills you up.

Before you both could say or do anymore, you both hear the front door open, “Eren, I’m home.” Mikasa calls out…

Let’s just say your next check was a few thousand more than your last one.

*not proofread*

Thinking about making this a mini fic so let’s call this a preview ;)

[brahmsthirdracket]

jack, luke, their long-suffering father and a flying cow 🐮

Jim can only assume that the charter crew must spend the rest of their flight hours couriering coked-up musicians and weird, smelly tech bros around the country because they don’t bat an eyelid at the sight of his disheveled children.

They really do look ridiculous: Jack is sleepy and unshowered, with one arm immobilized in a sling and the other clutching an enormous cuddly brown cow that’s almost as big as he is; and Luke, who’d shown up in Colorado with a body fluid percentage of approximately sixty percent vodka sours, is shuffling along in two different shoes and his mother’s sunglasses.

In fairness to Luke, he’d been sent a ticket for a red-eye to Colorado at 10 p.m. the night before by his father. In fairness to the father in question, Luke’s twenty damn years old.

Luke had frowned when this had been imparted to him in the VIP lounge at Eagle County Regional Airport, the last few stars giving way to weak, early morning sun. Through the glass of the terminal they the dark mass of the mountains lighten into a brown scrub and patches of unmelted snow.

“Like,” he pauses, brow furrowed, and Jim can practically see the cogs turning slowly in his pickled little brain, like some kind of Smirnoff mill. “I’m twenty so I’m young enough to not be underage drinking, or I’m twenty so I’m old enough to be more resp- responsible?”

“Both!” Jim snarls, trying to lean around Jack and his cow, who are each taking up a seat.

The wind sweeps the grasses on the side of the runway in graceful arcs and rattles the chain link fence. Jack, who’s been subsisting almost exclusively on morphine and ice cream for the last few days, sways unsteadily on the first flimsy step.

“Give me the cow, honey,” Jim tells him from behind, already exasperated.

“No,” Jack grunts out, tightening his hold and hobbling up another step. He hasn’t let go since its surprise appearance at the hospital last night, accompanied by a truly obscene amount of Swiss chocolate. Jim perks up at the thought of the nougat, and he patiently shuffles up the steps behind his son, one step at a time and a palm resting securely on his back the whole way.

Just ahead of them, Luke manages to trip on the top step and is saved from concussing himself on the drinks cart by the ample chest of one of the stewardesses.

“I’m an elite athlete,” he tells her solemnly and walks straight into an overhead locker.

Jim breathes in for four, holds for four and out for four, just like he tells his players. Of course it doesn’t really work and he snaps his eyes open just in time to yank Luke by the scruff of his neck in the direction of a seat before anyone has to call a lawyer.

As requested, the cabin crew have reclined two of the leather chairs that face each other and made them up with sheets, pillows and soft, cream-coloured blankets. After a lifetime of cramped sleeper buses and cheap red-eyes, Jim doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to traveling like this.

Jack - who definitely has got used to traveling like this - toes off his sneakers carelessly and collapses down onto the bed, or as much as he can without putting any weight on one side of his body. The ridiculous cow takes up half the seat but at least it supports Jack’s back so they can wrangle him comfortably on his right side.

“Where did the damn thing come from anyway?” Jim asks again, to no-one in particular as the wheels clunk up into the belly of the plane.

Ellen just gives him her patent did-I-really-marry-someone-this-dense look and goes back to typing up a meds schedule for Luke to follow.

“It’s an alpine cow,” Luke says, completely nonsensically, and snickers.

Jim points a finger at him. “You’re lucky the seat belt sign is on buddy.”

He rummages until he finds the chocolate - Jack won’t mind, he can’t have it anyway because of his diet plan - probably. Luke eyes him hopefully from across the aisle but: “He’ll have a double espresso,” Jim tells the hostess.

Jim settles himself into his comfortable leather seat, breaks into a dark milk nougat and calls the only one of his children who could legally operate heavy machinery right now. Quinn’s rumpled and sleepy face appears after a couple of rings and Jim feels immediately calmer.

“Good game, kiddo,” he says, without preamble.

“Yeah, uh thanks,” says Quinn, shuffling around in the frame.

Jim flips the camera - without having to turn the whole phone around, thank you very much - so Quinn gets a view of Jack cuddled up with his ridiculous cow.

Quinn squints into the camera. “Oh, nice. It actually made it in time.”

“So you sent it?”

“What? No, obviously it was-”

But who it was Jim never gets to hear, because Luke starts suddenly making insistent mooing noises across the aisle. Jim covers the mouthpiece of the phone with one hand.

“Hit him for me, honey,” he calls to Ellen, who just gives Luke a gentle cuff around the back of the head without looking up from her iPad, then runs her fingers through his curls.

One of Jack’s feet is sticking out from under the blankets, still in the bright blue hospital-issue socks with the little no-slip stickers. Even fast asleep, and clearly exhausted, he’s clutching the cow. Oh well. At least he and Quinn have a whole damn house now to store all of their weird crap.

“Dad?”

“Sorry, bud - where were we?” Jim curls a hand around Jack’s foot and squeezes gently as he and Quinn get into the nitty-gritty. The crew will have seen worse than a flying cow. Probably.

[fuck-customers]

fuck two of my coworkers, ok. gonna be a long one.

so i’m kind of a floater between stations in the kitchen, originally hired on for pantry (cold apps, salads, and desserts) with occasional training on expo and line. since our old dishwasher got himself fired, i’ve mostly been doing that for the last couple months. for the last two weeks we’ve been having issues with the garbage disposal sink getting backed up and not draining, fucking up one of the pipes in the wall to make it overflow—this has made doing dishes in a timely fashion with one person on that station vastly more difficult.

as a result of the above, the chef (C) tells me last night to come in an hour earlier than my original schedule “so you don’t get fucked on the dishes during brunch rush.” unbeknownst to me, he also tells the main pantry worker (J1) that she needs to ask me for help to make sure she has all her prep done before brunch.

i don’t find out about that until i’ve already been working for upwards of half an hour on making sure all the stations have the dishes they’re supposed to and any leftover from last night have been put away. this includes multiple trips to and from pantry to cart stacks of plates, during any of which J1 could have asked me to help when i get my hands free. instead, it’s the SOUS CHEF (S) who stops me on my way to prep for a weekly cleaning task to tell me to ask J1 if she needs help.

i’m just like, yeah ok sure, and i go to ask her. she’s like “🫤 weren’t you supposed to be over here helping me anyway” and i’m like “…i don’t know, C told me to come in for dishes, i’m just going off of what he said.” and ask her what she needs help with. she puts me on a non-crucial task that ends up fucking us over because we’re completely out of one of our more popular menu items for pantry, and she and the other floater/currently mostly pantry guy (J2) haven’t been getting their prep done right/at all. meaning i have to drop everything while the brunch rush is starting to get everything prepped before i can even make the item for it to be served. (put a pin in this. 📌)

brunch ends, we each get our 15, i come back from break and ask C where he wants me, “so i’m back on the same page as the rest of the kitchen.” he tells me to continue helping at pantry, making filling for deviled eggs. i don’t know the new recipe and he hasn’t written it down yet, so he tells me to plate desserts instead. J1 comes back from break right then and starts plating desserts. J1 does know the new filling recipe. i just kind of sigh and go back to C and ask him to just show me how to make the new filling. C, instead, walks back to pantry with me, and tells J1 to swap roles with me, telling her to make the filling while i plate cakes. she doesn’t fucking hear him because she’s got headphones on and loud, to the point that i have to get her attention three times before she even looks up.

i say, “C wants us to switch.” she straight up rolls her eyes at me and starts moving her dessert setup. we have one working outlet that we can plug the food processor into in the pantry area, where the fuck does she think i’m going? i clarify “no, C wants you to get started on the filling, and let me finish the cakes” and she goes “oh” before moving to start the filling. the food processor turns out to not be working, so she asks me to relay that to C, and i do, and when i come back she’s fucking plating cakes again. i remind her that C told me to do that and she just goes “🙄 i got this, go do one of your other tasks” so i just get fed up with her and her shit and spend the next two hours getting some hardcore catharsis in by sweeping, deck scrubbing, and mopping the dry storage area. the rest of the night with her goes pretty smooth because i’m mostly able to ignore her while i prep for tomorrow. she’s been kind of a cunt since a friend of hers, A, got fired/walked out/i’m fuzzy on the details anyway, so like. oh well. seethe and mald but stop making your problems mine, yk? let me do my fucking job.

📌 circling back now to that pin. the popular food item in question requires sliced cured meat. there was some cut, but only enough for about 3 of them before being left with unservable scraps that C doesn’t want on the plate. so i take a fresh meat log to the slicer, only to find it in an absolute STATE. it looks like it hasn’t been cleaned all fucking month. there’s old yellowing grease all over it and bits of dried meat scraps/flakes caked everywhere on and around it that have gone past dried and starting to turn rancid—like, this shit was turning green.

i am, of course, disgusted and appalled, because making and prepping for this particular menu item was easily 85% of my job when i was focused on pantry, and the worst i ever let the slicer get was getting too busy to remember to clean it before the end of one shift and doing it first thing when i came in for the next. the worst you’d find then was some dried meat flakes that had turned a slightly darker pink. so of course i immediately set to cleaning the slicer before even thinking about putting anything intended for human consumption near it.

C comes back to see what’s taking so long bc i usually have a full log sliced by that point. i’m still in the process of cleaning the slicer, so i point out what mess is left (i had about a third of it done by now; it was Bad) and he goes “oh, that might have been J2” and tells me to hurry and slice just enough for a few more orders, and i can finish slicing after they’re arranged for service.

i come back to pantry, where J1 is now running window to expo and J2 is arranging the non-meat parts of the item. i say aloud for both of them, “hey, just so you know, we need to wipe down and sanitize the slicer after we’re done using it.” J2 straight up says “well, it wasn’t cleaned the last time i had to use it,” which just hits me with such an intense wave of anger that i go nonverbal for a minute while i focus on plating. like. so you agree, you admit it, you didn’t fucking clean it after you were done. J2 has been risking unleashing food poisoning on our entire clientele for god knows how long.

later, after dinner service, i’m helping the temp on dishes—i’m hand-washing mostly pans and other things that won’t fit in the machine in the three-tier manual sink, while the temp is running the machine, and J2 has been putting the trays of dishes away as they come out. as i’m filling the manual sinks i turn to J2 and say, “if you wanna just focus on putting things away, i can knock out the washing here,” and he agrees.

and then he proceeds to completely fucking ignore the rapidly filling sanitizer sink in favor of continuing to put away the machine dishes. even when i move things onto the counter between the sanitizer soak and the “out” side of the machine, taking up almost all of the available space to give myself room to keep cycling through the dishes, he continues ignoring it, simply lifting the dish machine trays over and past the growing pile of waiting manual dishes.

i step away for a bit to cool off, catch my breath, take something for the migraine that has been steadily building since ~11:30am (it is now almost 9pm) from having to deal with J1 and J2 all fucking day. i have been asked to help with trash as part of close. J2 has the gall to ask me “how much longer do you think you’ll be?” at a fucking guess i’m going to be a lot goddamn longer than i would be if you were actually HELPING ME, dickhead.

J2 ended up clocking out after the temps helped him with trash without putting a single manual dish away, leaving me with three full sinks and an overloaded counter. i didn’t get home until after midnight (partly because my ride was helping with after-dinner bar service) and i have to go back and do it all the fuck again at 11a again tomorrow.

i swear, if J2 gets fired and is never allowed to work in foodservice again after tonight’s bullshit, especially the state i found the deli slicer in, i’m converting back to christianity, because i’m taking it as proof that there is a merciful and loving god.

Posted by admin Rodney.

[slowee00]

• ——— SYSTEM X ARC 3

———————  • BY SLOWEE00/SLOoORE

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

#-𝟶𝟿• 𝚂𝚢𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚢 동정

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

❌ MASTERLIST + INFO + WARNINGS:

CHAPTER WARNGING(S): not proofread, Swearing, Angst, reader being lonely, longest chapter 10,000+ words, small suggestive scene.

<<<<<<Previous Chapter | Next Chapter>>>>>>>

It's been almost 2 weeks since you started to scrub offices for a living. You're up at least by 9 or 10am, ready to start work. Unfortunately, days don't pass fast as there are hardly task given to you in the morning. Most come after 3pm when you're mostly exhausted.

Marshmallow isn't in your care anymore, she's in Yunhos now. Seonghwa had ordered Mingi to take the dog as the building doesn't accept pets or animals. That's the information Karina given you a days after, and if you wanted to see her, you'll have to visit the therapy centre in the heart of the main building. 

Mr. Uder also known as Yunho, runs a therapy cycle. Since Seonghwa couldn't think of someone, Yunho took it upon himself to take Miss Marsh to the therapy cycle for emotional support. 

It was a great idea in your opinion. She's getting the attention and care she needs instead of being locked in your room all day. You'll have to visit.

Seonghwa would drop by every now n then to check on you, see if you're eating and getting exercise your body needs. He was able to get you a phone (no plan) and your inhaler. Your old phone was confiscated as it could've been easily tracked.

You walked around the building, picking up the last garbage bag, throwing it into your cart and replacing it a new one. The final beep on your table sent a wave of relief over your shoulders, shutting down the tablet. 

"Finally..." you whispered, stretching out your limps, rotating your upper body till you heard your hip crack with satisfaction. Mingi had left a couple minutes ago, disappearing once again. 

The male does this constantly. Appearing out of thin air. Most of the time he's quiet. Observing your every movement. At times, you even forget he's there. Only to be reminded by his sudden comments and commands. It could get annoying. Why couldn't they trust you wouldn't do anything? You ask yourself that repeatedly, only to answer it with the reason of their lives prize. They're assassins, agents, spys- what not. The Avengers are gone, who's gonna protect the world? 

You couldn't blame them for labeling you as an anomaly. 

Crossing over your arms above your head, stretching it out till it cracked. Your throat throb slightly, dry from the lack of hydration. 

"ahhHhhhh-" you yawned.

"-What are you doing?"

"OH-"

You jump immediately, your arms raised in fist, ready to punch whoever was behind you. But you were met to a soft looking male. Blonde, wore a large crewneck with complementary striped colours. Simple slippers, and black sweatpants with a small fanny pack. He didn't seem alarming, just weird. 

He smiled. His cheekbone becoming more visible. 

"Sorry did I scare you?"

"No, you didn't!" You said in sarcastic tone, rolling your eyes and ticking your tongue with an expensive attitude. 

"Almost slapped you..," you mumble under your breath. You look at him then looked down the hall both ways, seeing as to where and how the hell this guy even got behind you. There was a hall behind him, yes, but you emptied out every room already, leaving him with the entrance down the long hall. 

You stared at him. "Do you need something...?"

He's smiled remains. 

"No.. just um.." he was still smiling, almost a nervous smile. Licking his lip, tucking his hands in his pocket, looking down. 

"You wouldn't have a... key on you..?"

You immediately relaxed. 

"You lost your key didn't you..?"

His head shot up. 

"Not shocked?"

You shrugged. "A lucky guess."

"...So can you let-"

"Can I just take my trash out and I'll-" you cut yourself over, your thumb point in the other direction, but stopped and nodded. "Never mind, where do you want to go?"

"The dorms, if that's ok..?" 

"Oh of course.." out of everyone one here, this guy has been the nicest, weird, but the nicest. Nice people gonna be returned the favour right?

"Or you can take out that trash and then we can go, I've seen you a couple times in the dorms so I take it you're going back?" He questioned. 

Finally someone who gets it! You thought you found the one. Someone not weird (you think) someone who is talking like a human being! Not talking poems like Seonghwa, weird comments like Karina, threats(?) like Mingi, just a normal spoken person. 

"Oh can we? It's just it would be nice to not circle back-"

"I understand, let me go with you..." he stated, stepping forward and you nodded. You couldn't deny him. Company is nice but you wouldn't get too comfortable. You're in a high level secret government building. But you can't help but turn soft for finally finding a decent person. 

But something didn't really feel right...

"Yeosang by the way."

You were about to introduce yourself but stopped upon feeling something off about this whole encounter. You stopped, looking around then back to him. "Is this some test?"

He raised a brow. "Huh?"

"Is Mr. Park watching somehow. Testing me if I get too comfortable or something? I'm not getting it.."

"Seonghwa is not here. Nor is Mingi. Just me and you.."

Oh... you didn't really like that response, so you just looked at him, giving him a side eye. 

"Not convincing huh?" He asked. 

"Yup." Yeosang sighed, scratching his head in slight frustration. 

"Well what do I say to gain some trust..?"

You licked the inside of your cheek. "If you know Seong- Mr. Park, I take it you know who I am.. even so, in my situation, trust doesn't come easy.." you folded your arms. You weren't lying. Trust with something you dealt with your entire life. Even if they're housing you, you still have to be careful as to who you give it too.

"I know... listen, I'm not trying to be mean but.. I kinda just want to go to bed.." he responded in the nicest manner he could. He was handsome and his calm, collected expression, voice and face, for some reason, made him more attractive. Again... Unlike Mingi and Seonghwa. 

You clicked your tongue.  "You know what? me too.." already tired yourself, you rubbed your face in frustration, continuing to push your cart, taking Yeosang aback. 

"Wha... so that's it?"

"What's it?

"You gonna let me walk? In this building with no ID?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"For starters," you stopped, using your whole hand to point out things about him. "You're wearing slippers, sweatpants and a crewneck, I take it you are already set to go back to your room. Plus, I don't understand why someone would adventure into this building, not knowing what it is as I don't even see much of this 'secret organization' you guys call. I clean these offices every day! It just looks like a normal building. And as soon as I mentioned Mr. Park, you were quick to mention lieutenant Song as well, which lead me to believe that you've seen my report- do you want me to continue?" You asked, scratching your arm. 

Caught right handed, he licked his lips, bitting onto them. He leaned on one leg, letting both hand fall into his sweat pant's pockets.

"Yes."

"No," you disengage, to which he playfully smiled to. 

"Seonghwa was right, you are oddly entertaining..." you looked at him, arriving at garbage suit. You stopped just as your back hit the door. "He talks about me?"

"Yup.." 

You gulped. "In a good or bad way?" Yeosang noticed the way your voice lowered into a more quiet one. Soft, confused, and concerned. 

The corners of his lips lifted. "In a good way," Yeosang leaned against the wall. "...I think.." he teased. Your lips flinched before pressing them thin. 

You only nodded, pushing open the suit door, the horrible smell now hitting your nose, but after the first 3 days, you've gone nose blind to the terrible smell. 

"What? Trying to shoot your shot?" You heard him yell from the entrance. If he was Karina, you could've confessed that maybe- MAYBE, you found the smooth looking male attractive. But even to Karina you wouldn't say much about something you found personal.

"No just curious as to what he says, that's all.." you simply said, no stutter or missteps, straight and forward. Who wouldn't want to know what others say about you?

"Also! they call me King." 

"King?"

"I'm good at flying aircrafts, most of the time, I end up saving their asses in the nick of time.." he explains happily. You do recall that name being uttered somewhere... interesting. 

"Code name?"

"Exactly!"

After dropping off your cart, you both walked back, swiped your card to enter the dormitory, walking past the front desk and the closed market. You noticed the vending machine in the corner near the laundry room, 'coffeeeeee-' but also noticed how silent Yeosang became. He was always on small talk but now he was fidgeting with his the tip of his fingers. 

"Ah..!" That was when you turned around to face him. "You good?" You asked, realizing he stopped walking, standing a couple feet away. You catched a glance of his hand before he stuffed them back into his sweats pockets. Small cracks appeared on them, like bright lightning. They were orange-red, almost like they were on fire. 

Your chest tightened at that sudden memory flooding back into your mind. It was impossible, it couldn't be possible.

All the way here? In Korea?

"Your hands.." you started, point to them, forcing your body to face him. 

"They're fine," he quickly answered, but he couldn't hide them glowing through his pants. "Dude.." you took a step forward and he took a step back, taking his hands out, hugging them close to himself. "Shit, why now..?" He whispered. 

Looking him, you gently began to approach him, taking a different approach. 

His body felt like someone had set his hands on fire. The burning sensation almost leaving them numb. His skin felt like it was hardening, ready to crack at any moment like an active volcano. 

He could only pray that it wouldn't be as bad as last time. At least not in front of you.

"...Can I see them..?" 

You gestured your hand to him. He was almost shocked. Many people would run, call for help, but you asked to see them instead? He almost didn't want to, but then he realized in the report he had read a week ago. 

You were a Shield agent, then worked for the Avengers.

He's condition for definitely foreign. He and the others don't even know how this could happen. 

Sometimes it's pain, other times there's nothing but a tingling sensation. He doesn't know what it is, but now that he had someone who used to work in one of the most scandals in the world, you, maybe, could end this nightmare.

But he didn't want to do it, he could burn you like he did the others. But almost like a scared animal, coming from a torturing family, the male you were previously talking to- shakingly brought his hands to yours. You went to touch it, but he would pull away slightly to avoid touching you. The heat of his hands felt like a fireplace. It made you wonder how much pain he was in- if he was in any.

"It happens randomly, it burns, it's like a power draw back." He spoke gently. 

You saw this back in New York. Once only. Like the super soldier serum, this played a similar role. Granting the host abilities beyond their control. But that was years ago, you couldn't find that memory even if you tried.

"Hm... I've seen this before..." you whispered. His head shot up just as you began to tilt your head around to get a better veiw. 

You looked up to him, eyes boring into his. 

"Does it bother you?" 

He nodded slowly. 

"Do you feel like you're gonna explode?

"Yeah... sometimes.." he said. 

You looked at his hand intensely. 

"You want it gone...?" You asked him lowly to which he nodded. 

He raised his brows in curiosity. "Y-you can do that...?" He stuttered. The light in his finger tips slowly fading away. But before he could retreat, you grabbed his hand. To which he suddenly gripped your hand back. It was quick but you can feel him slowly burn your hand and squeezed it a bit too hard.

You flipped his hand around, his grip still around yours. "Um.. yeah..." you mumbled letting go of his hand. You couldn't help but hiss at him suddenly pulling away, pulling your skin slightly. Your arm suddenly twitched but you used your other hand to hold it in place. Still up, you quickly shoved them into your pocket. 

"I just need to confirm it before I could tell." You cleared your throat. Scratching your arm again, making the fabric dance along your skin. 

Yeosang notice this but his eyes began to slight blur. Recovering slightly, his legs barely holding him up as he doubled over, leaning in, his face close to yours; A little too close for comfort. 

Reacting quickly, you hooked your arms under his pits and held him up with as much strength you had.

"Shit.. just bring me to my room, I have to take my shot," he mumbled, the awkward stance was kinda funny. Two random strangers standing in the empty lobby of the dormitory entrance. One leaning against the other. If someone came in, they would've thought you were dragging a crazy drunker into the building. 

It almost felt like it. Yeosang was pretty heavy. So much so, you ended up (just barely) piggybacking him to his room. It was only 20 minutes later, even with the elevator, was when you reached his room. You got lost and he kept misleading you to it.

Unlocking his room, you immediately noticed your breath. A small cloud forming by your lips and nose. His room temperature was freezing. It shows he has to change even his environment to keep his condition at bay.

It was dark, the moon shinning your way through. You couldn't see his room but it was for sure ten times bigger- if not, a hundred times bigger than your room. They gave you an old storage closet, while they gave the boys luxurious apartments. Bummer. But then again, they are the ones who do the heavy lifting. You're just a custodian. And honestly, you were supposed to be sleeping in a bunk bed by the janitors lobby where they keep the extra space for emergencies. 

After saying your goodbyes - as in dropping him onto his bed and feeing; you heard him mumble a small 'thank you' your way before letting sleep take him over. 

You would've helped him change but you felt like that was already too much. And also, you felt like you were trespassing. And you're not on that level, you did just met the guy.

"You're very welcome," you whispered finding your way back to the door and closing it after exiting. "Oh!" You stopped, turned and bented down. Sliding your janitors keycard under his door so he doesn't need to search for you again. You have access to a new one in the janitor's lobby. 

Before heading back to your room, you returned back downstairs, turning to the vending machine you marked before Yeosang had his little attack, to come back and take a cold coffee for tomorrow.

After retrieving your drink you stared at the entrance of the dormitory, the main entrance leading- for a lot longer than usual, like you were in a trance. The pitch black night being nothing but suspicious. 

Now kinda thinking of it, you've never stepped foot out since you got here. The dormitory and the main building are connected by stairs and halls. There was a market and a bar under both buildings, so you never needed a reason to leave. 

But now, it couldn't hurt... right?

You stood there staring into nothing. You felt something - you take as water, hit the tip of your nose. Looking up, you noticed more began to fall. You would rush in immediately, avoiding the possibilities to get sick but you didn't. You just stood there, feeling and letting your clothes slowly soak in the incoming rain.

You've never felt so empty yet filled with so much thought. There was so much but at the same time, nothing. 

But the sudden rain wasn't sad, no, it was refreshing. A reminder of life outside your hectic one. It was dark but the distance street light lit up your vision. That didn't stop you doing a little twirl, spreading your arms out, letting the rain wash you, wash the stress and anxiety away. 

The stinging pain in your arm and hand was ignored on your walk back to your room, opening the door and slammed the door closed. You felt... heavy. It's been about 2-3 weeks since you got here were you really at your breaking point?

You raised your arm, looking at it with bore eyes. Since all of this started, you've been questioning yourself and your life choices. 

Was your hero life really for you? Maybe your hard training wasn't hard enough. You're still a soft bunny- as Karina said a couple days ago. Your heart is in the right place. Right heart, wrong life.

You never noticed, but when you stood in the rain for a solid 3 mins, the tall stoic male stood on his large balcony. Watching you twirl in the rain like a man on crack. 

Silence felled the space as he scoffed, his thick ring, scrapping against the rail of his balcony, retreating back into his warm suit. He did say he'll be watching you when you least expected it...

"You ok man?" Yunho asked, playing on his best friend's tv. His thumbs caressing to buttons on the controller. 

"Yup.." he thought of you. "Everything is fine."

The annoying eerie light burned brightly. Having it to be the only thing lighting up the unknown room. 

You could see faint stars in the small window across from you. 

How long has it been since you left earth? Since you were kidnapped by random aliens talking about magical stones.

.

.

You laid in the for what felt like hours. They came in every now and then to ask questions. Only, the same question. 

"Where is it?"

"I DONT KNOW!" You yelled. You tasted iron on your tongue as it began to pour from your chapped lips. Your head was spinning. 

The alien frowned. "Lord Thanos wouldn't like this..." it mumbled. Rubbing a hand over its face in frustration. 

Your body shook in pain and fear just as he turned around and flicked his wrist to the other creature in the room. 

"Do it again." 

"No- NO-"

The stoic alien aggression grabbed your arm slamming your upper body into the metal table. It held down your arm, its other hand holding an electric weapon. The top opening and admitting an electric shock between the three pointers. 

You stared at the deadly weapon and back between the creature. But before you could think, you felt the pressure of the weapon before the shock came. Ripping a blood curling scream from your throat....

The shock painted a purple-blood bruise up and down your arm. 

Bang. 

Bang. 

Bang. 

The constant banging ringed in your ear as they came in and out to ask the same question in till your body couldn't take anymore. Your mind could puzzle out why you were there in the first place. You passed out too quickly to tell.

BANG

You can hear them talk in their respective language on the other side of the door. 

BANG

"F/N!"

Jointing wake from your nightmare, you were faced with still being in to last night wear. The first thing you did was take a shower and did your personal hygiene. Noticing that you had fell asleep without washing up last night. You had breakfast and headed for walk. You thought it could clear your mind a bit after what had happened. 

"Where are you going?" You stopped in your tracks, turning to meet the owner of that deep stoic voice who happens to be- of course! Lieutenant Song. Standing or waiting right behind you with one hand on his hip and of course, his baton, talkie, and gun hung on his belt.

"I thought maybe... I can go for a walk?" You asked politely, tucking your hand into your pocket awkwardly. The other one hanging on your side as the accident with Yeosang from yesterday slowly begun to make you question your decision/action when grabbing his hand.

He didn't answered, only lifting a brow, still staring at you as if he was waiting for an answer back. He knows how observing you are, how you can read people, and so you read him, his expression. Him waiting for you to answer or for a further explain. 

Only there wasn't. You simply couldn't answer, not even a groan of annoyance or anger. Not giving him time to process before you headed back towards the elevators. 

What. 

The. 

Fuc-

"You're not even gonna contravene?" That reply made you stop, again. Turning to face his back. You sighed, "What? you want me to argue back?"

"Yes.. I expect you too." He turned his whole body to you and crossed his muscly arms. 

You tucked your head back in shock.

"Ok," you patted out your clothing, dusting them to be more presentable. 

"Can I go for a walk."

"No."

"Goodbye sir.." you didn't give him a second glance. 

He's always on you. You thought he was going to monitor you during your work hours, but it looks like he's monitoring you 25/8. No rest, like the terminator except no execution, just constant observation. 

The day was boring and before you knew it, It was already 5pm, after making dinner, Jongho notified you to the nursing wing for a final check up. The general ordered him to do check ups on your health as your past medical conditions kinda left her concerned. Or at least that's what he said...

"All done!" He said, removing the blood pressure machine from your arm. "You're 100%," he claimed with a small smile. Almost happy this was coming to a closing. You? Now so much. You hate to admit it, but you actually liked the check ups, the constant pressure, and knowing you had to be somewhere at a particular time. 

"T-that's it? I don't need to come back?" You asked, looking up to him with eyes full of curiosity, your voice deep and small. He looked at you for a little longer than he wanted to. You watched his small smile return. 

"Are you upset? You know-"

"No- I.. actually liked it..." You confessed out loud. He immediately dropped his smile and pressed his lips together.  "Sorry I didn't mean it like that... it just..."  "I get it... you miss having to go somewhere," he answered for you. 

"And having someone... there... expecting me.." 

Oh, now he gets it...

"You want attention?" He question caught you off guard, looking up at him immediately. You caught a glimpse of his naked tail waving as the corners of his mouth curled upwards. 

"N-no maybe someone- no!" 

"It's ok F/n, many people feel this way in many occasions, yours is more understandable," he raised a brow after his eyes landed on what rested on your lap. You watch his soft plump cheeks fall a bit, his eyes fully fixated.

"Woah.. your hand..." he dragged his attention on the large bruise on your hand, red and pulsing. You tried to cover it with your sleeve but Jongho immediately stopped you. Gently taking your hand into his and pulled back your sleeve just enough to see your hand. His warm touch was almost welcoming, you- for some reason- wanted to continue to hold it. Squeeze it, but your injury swelled up too much for you to do that.

"F/n, you never told me about this.." he whispered, gently turning your hand to view different angles of it. 

"It's nothing.. ow..!" You jumped as Jongho pressed into the palm of your hand. Closing your hand as best as you can but the pain was too unbearable and you grabbed Jongho's hand that was around your wrist. 

"That's a lot of scratches... and your hand..." he claimed releasing you, walking over to his cabinet. He took a bottle of a substance and bandages and walked back to you, raising his hand to you. 

You didn't pay mind to it, the pain was there but you figured you might've pulled something. 

Then it hit you.

Yeosang must've squeezed your hand so hard, that he not only burnt it, but broke it. Was your body in shock or something? You remember breaking bones in the past being horrible, but this time, the pain wasn't bad, if not, not there at all.

"May I?" Jongho ending up taking an xray for your hand, checking if you needed surgery. Thankfully you didn't. So the mutant just wrapped your hand in a thick cast, cover it in a baby blue bandage.

"I'll report to Kim and Seonghwa about your injury."

"Can I-"

"You can't work."

"I can, I can still-"

He looked at you, leaning in close, but not too close. Just to make himself clear, face to face.  "No, doing that will only make it worse..."

Your lip twitched and his tilted his head. Tail flicking behind him, his eyes dared you to oblige against his advice. You both stared into each eyes, watching his pupils constrict for a second before they dilated.

"And you might lose it, understand?"

"Yes.. sir... Doc.. Jongho...?"

His smiles returned. Slitting the conversation in half and pulling back.

"Have you been eating?" 

"Yeah..." he flashed you a side eye. 

"And where exactly do you get your groceries? As far as I know, you never left this building since you got here.."

You got your food and snacks from the indoor market downstairs in the dormitory. After today you confirmed your thoughts. Mingi said otherwise... 

Speaking of the devil...

Your response was cut off by Mingi knocking on the open door, grabbing you and Jongho's attention. "Done?" He asked. It was to no one particular, maybe both of you. You stayed quiet though. "She's done!" Jongho said, getting up from his chair. He walked to the medicine cabinet pulled out a small bottle of pills - Acetaminophen. 

"It's just medication to help with your pain," he handed you the bottle. "What if I run out? do I come back here?" You started to rise from the bed you were previously sat on. He walked around you, cleaning, and smoothing out the bed sheets. 

"Only if you want to come back.." he said, flashing you a quick smile before walking to the exit. His tail waving as he stop by Mingi. Mingi's face was unreadable as he only fixed his eyes onto Jongho just ask the shorter male whispered something. 

Confusion arise into you, but you didn't question and only watched Jongho leave the nursing wing. Silence struck and Mingi only roll his tongue on the inside of his cheek before sighing. 

"You know, I'm off... today." Your voice finding itself in the empty hall. You played with the cap of the pill bottle using the tip of your thumb. You still stood in the same place almost as if you were scared of him. 

"Off or not, I still have to watch you," all you did was press your lips together and deliver him a small nod. As days past, you slowly learned to accept this hell of a life. But there's something at the back of your mind hoping this is all just a sweet nightmare and that one day, you'll wake up in your apartment. But when days past, you almost feel like burning down your room in full stress and overwhelming thoughts. 

"Tell me, what are you gonna do today?"

"Since I realize I have outdoor privileges, I can finally take Marshmallow out for a good walk.." you explained walking over to the taller male. "With the acceptance of Yunho of course... you're welcome to join me unless you want to go drown yourself in your most expensive booze?" You tried to joke but he only replied back with a head shake.

"Ok..ay.."

You didn't miss his eyes travelling down your upper body stopping on the large cast in your wrist.  You didn't give him time to question and walked past him and down the hall, retreating back to the dormitory building. You walked in an appropriate pace. As he always does, the much taller male lagged a couple feet behind. You honestly think he's there for intimidation. Setting you straight, making sure you're working, and to be honest, it works. 

"You can... walk beside me you know..?" You tried to remain friendly. 

"I'll stay here..." he answered plainly. You're trying, you're really are. Clearly some people just don't want to get to know each other. Mingi is one of those people. 

You stopped walking, arriving at the stairwell connecting to the dormitory. You felt like a fish in a hook. You just about had enough of this guy. There were buckets of you and your prey was him, constantly thrown in the ocean only to be eaten by the larger animal. 

"Listen-"

"What?" He catches up, stopping right beside you. He didn't give you a glance, looking straight on. "You have 15 seconds,"

You sighed behind speaking up.  "Do you like... ever, you know,.. smile? or are you just always stones and bricks?- I feel like you can't go a long way, now that I'm thinking about it, I don't think I've ever seen you eat, sleep, or drink anything.. I mean you're not here all of the time, sometimes you leave and never come back till 700 hours later...I mean- I didn't even know if you live in the dorms- do you know Yeosang? Is Yeosang ok?" you took another breath. 

"5 seconds." You stopped walking, coming to a holt. You tried to control your breathing but you started to be somewhat annoyed. It felt like talking to him was like talking to a brick wall. At first you wanted to just talk, see where that would take this, but something tells you that ain't happening.

Is it you? it has to be you! do you have something in the middle of your teeth when you failed to take it out after lunch? is your odor annoying? is your voice too annoying? or maybe it's him not you? SHI-

"Can I just be... unattended? enjoy my day off?" 

He turned to you, fully facing you. His bore eyes looking into yours. His face almost never speaks, but he's eyes surely do... 

"Give me a reason."

"Since I've gotten here, it's constant supervision from you." You took a breath. A long breath. "I've haven't been myself lately and I hate it, I'm not injured nor am I dangerous. When I worked for shield, I never learn how to shoot a gun, I shot Arrows, a bow. I don't have a bow anymore! I don't have anything to hurt anyone, you guys gave me a small place to stay, is protecting from what? I don't even know what! Gave me a job, then have the audacity to send someone to look after me, You're.." you paused and took a breath, using your hands for more motion and expression. 

"So cold, the block of ice is so thick, you can't even see that I'm trying to make myself and you comfortable! So why are you so.." you couldn't find the words and your mind went blank. 

"..so..-" Your chest tighten just as you unable to blur out the last words. Your breathing wasn't too heavy and you didn't want to show that to him. You're not about to ramble then have an asthma attack right after. No. You immediately started to search for your new inhaler Seonghwa gave you. 

You don't normally or often use your inhaler, it was just this situation caused so much stress to build, and for some reason, fear. 

You placed your lips around the life saving object, turned around and took a puff. Mingi could see your back muscles flex, they became stiff but soon relaxed after. 

You coughed a bit, turning back but he was closer this time. So you took a step back, but soon back fired as your back hit the cold stoned wall of the empty stairwell. He stalked in silence, stopping only when his large boots stopped in front of yours.

"Mrs. L/n, you were an agent before, so you should undoubtedly- understand. I have my orders and you have yours,"

You stepped forward, making sure your chest was close to his. You weren't gonna let this guy bully you because of some 'orders'. "For some reason I feel you're getting a kick from this, what? No missions? So you got no one the drag around..? "

"Watch the way you talk to me." He argued back. With one single push with his hand, your body was completely against the wall, his body nearly pressed into yours, now towering over you. 

You felt his intimidating presence behind you as you worked, but now you never realized the size difference between you too. You weren't too short, but he was still taller than you. His deep voice, and bulk body almost made you want to shrink into an aunt to run.

Your air way began to tighten again, breathing out your nose instead of your mouth, trying to mask your breathing over his cold glare. 

But the wall of confidence soon fell, unable to keep it up, you pushed past him, coughing immediately and took a puff. Your asthma was never this bad, something happened, something made it worse. A puff a couple times a month and that's it, but now you need to refill it every now n then. 

"Leave me alone.." Your soft deep voice echoing through the stairwell. You hunching over, hand over your chest. 

"I just... please, leave me... alone." 

You didn't want be alone... you wanted something, can you couldn't state it. it was right at the tip but you missed it every time. You wanted... comfort. A distraction. But Mingi wasn't helping with that at all. It was the complete opposite.

Turning around after hearing only silence after a while, you were only met with nothing, he was gone. He didn't say anything else, just disappeared. 

You stood there confused. He gave in so easily, no wise words or a fight. Guess both of you guys needed to be alone. You could walk away, go on your day like it was nothing, but you wouldn't be able to shake it off. 

Did you hit a nerve? Half of you hopped you did and the other kinda just wants to apologize in a sense. 

He tracks you like you have an ankle brace. Or so, he was the tracker. Since they couldn't provide one, they gave you Mr. Song. Was it harsh? The words? Behind closed doors, your doors, he could be decent guy, smiles a lot more than he is around you, like you suck the joy out of him. That stings and you transferred that emotion into anger, thrashing out on him without much thought. Or was your heart too soft for the man?

You were walking for so long, you didn't even know where you were going. Just walking. The buildup stress from the time you've been here is started to seep out. You hated showing these emotions to someone- anyone. 

You put you head against the wall, in the corner, closing your eyes. Some people walking by with slight interest. "Is she ok?" "Don't know, come on, we have training.." two girls spoke an amongst themselves. Walking by without much question. 

You sighed against the wall, taking a deep breath, you covered your ears. You wish you could mute the world for a couple seconds. Where people could mind their own business. You wish you could scream in a field and let it all out. It almost made you mad. But you were too tired to fight or argue.

.

You're tired, oh so tired. 

.

.

"F/n...?" You heard someone chant your name softly but you didn't move, remaining in the same position. You looked like you were on time out from a far perspective. 

Till the same person touch your arm, making you turn to them immediately. "Huh..?" Mr. Uber. Yunho. 

"You ok?" Standing beside him was Yeosang surprisingly, looking better than last night. Your arm still in Yunho's grip, landing your attention on Yeosang instead. He looked at your face with slight concern but dropped as soon as you gave him the same expression. 

"Are you ok? You gave me a scare last night..."

He nodded, his cheekbones appearing once again. 

"Are you sure? Yes? Have you slept? It looked painful..."

"F/n I'm fine, see?" He lifted his arm, doing a goofy twirl to show you. You let a noise out. Yeosang smiled but stopped upon scanning your face. It was near 7pm, but why does it look like you skipped 3 days of sleep?

"Are you...okay?"

You ran your palm down your cheek, "Y-yeah I'm ok..?" It sounded like a question. "I think.. just not getting enough sleep.. I guess," Yunho and Yeosang exchanged looks for a brief second. Yunho bit into his lip, his large hand gently gripping the dog. You glanced between the two, not even noticing the dog, only after the third glance was when you noticed the animal. 

"Oh... Marshmallow.." Yunho immediately brightened up. Handing the dog who was way too excited to get into your arms, even started to cry, her whimpers becoming louder. 

"Shhh... I got you.." you whispered gently taking the small dog into your arms. Like a baby you were more than happy to see the dog the System accidentally kidnapped.

"What's the reason you brought her to me..?"

Yunho shrugged, "no reason.." he paused. "Actually-"

"She's not invited."

You were so focused on Yeosang wellbeing, you didn't even noticed what the two males were wearing. They wore fancy yet casual clothes. In full black. Yeosang wore a black denim coat, with a fishnet-like fabric, solid but somewhat see through seeing small flashes of his abs with leather flair pants. Yunho wore a simple black dress shirt with dress pants similar to it. 

"Oh.." 

Wooyoung stalked by saying those words, giving no thought about you. Yeosang gave him a small look, shifting his attention on the sudden presence of another female. 

"You are not the host of this party, she can go if she wants.." Karina spoke up, standing beside Yunho. She wore thigh-high leather heels, her makeup done, tight black dress with cropped dress coat. 

They all wore black.

"You should come, lay off a little," San and Hongjoong were the last one to approach. Coat open, nothing under, his toned abs exposed. Hongjoong for a cowboy coat, with a low cut black blouse, one too many necklaces and chains around his neck, dark velvet wide pants and short heels. 

How are these people dressing better than an average person? Oh Right... money..

"The drinks will be on you though.." Hongjoong joined, raising a brow. 

Karina smiled, gently slapping your arm. "You should!"

You looked at every single one, looking at their heavy jewelry and expensive looking clothes. 

"I take it this 'party' is a club..?" You questioned, rubbing your thumb into Marshmallows fur/skin, the animal slowly falling asleep in your arms. 

"You don't like clubs?" Yunho asked. Tilting his head with the question, making one of his long earrings hang from his ear. 

"Never been to one.. are they like... the clubs in the movies?" You talked in your deep tired voice. Your eyes out of focus.

They all exchanged looks before slightly laughing. "I guess they are, Ms. L/n." Hongjoong said a smile forming on his pink lips. 

"The drinks!" You heard Wooyoung yell.

"Wait!" San replied. Turning back to you again. "So?" He questioned. 

You shook your head.

"No, I'm tired.."

"You're lost, lets go," Hongjoong dragged San, whose face voiced concern before giving you sympathetic look as he got dragged. 

"See you later, precious," Karina teased, hooking her arm around Yunho's, walking the same direction. You watched them happily leaving in the hall. Despite having to go on a hiatus, they found something to detract themselves for passing time.

You don't know the number of people who are in Seonghwa's squad, you definitely don't see your doctor Jongho, Mr. Park or Lieutenant Song with them. Higher the position equals more work and less free time...

"Your hand..." 

Yeosang cut the silence. You snapped your head back to him, actually forgetting him, thinking he walked away already.

"It's nothing.." you replied quickly, looking down to your wrist, fidgeting with the loose end of the blue bandage. 

"Did I do that?" He asked, starring intensely at your injury he clearly doesn't have memory doing.

You silenced yourself, it was more of him questioning himself. He stepped forward, taking your wrist gently, your other arm holding the now yawning Marshmallow. 

You watch him gently push up your sleeve, his veiny hand held yours, his thumb softly rubbing the material. He looked at your injury, watching his brow furrow slightly. 

"It's not your fault.. Yeo-sang.." you slowed his name, like you were attempting to properly pronounce his name. To which he looked up to you with a smile. 

"You remembered?"

"Of course, how could I not?"

"Yeosang!" Someone yelled from down the hall. You both looked quickly, seeing the group by the exit. 

"What do you think they're talking about?" San started. Leaning close to Hongjoong, arm still around his shoulder.

"Whatever it is, it's none of our business." Hongjoong answered. Everyone turned their heads to him. 

"Really, you don't want to know?" Karina asked, taken a back as the older male always ask and shuffles his nose into other people's business. 

"No." Hongjoong shook his head.

Yunho raised his brows, Karina licked her lips, San cleared his throat, and Wooyoung groaned under his breath. 

The group watched the two figures down the hall exchange a few last words before Yeosang retreated back to the group. 

As Yeosang stalked closer, Hongjoong crossed his arms, stepping forward. His earring swinging with attitude. 

"The hell was that about?"

It was about 8pm and you finished your shower, ate and now getting ready for bed, maybe watch a couple videos of your favourite YouTubers on your new phone. 

Dimming your lights, you cover Marshmallow's food bow and walked to your bed, throwing off the covers easily and slipped in. You held the blanket up, the small chihuahua climbing in. She actually smelt quite well, showing that Yunho or whoever was really taking care of her. 

"Tired? Yeah.. me too..." You mumbled, cuddling the animal closer. She let out some comfort noises before her large eyes began to fall. You weren't too far, your body falling first, your eyes, then-

Your door faced a loud bang coming from the other side. Waking you and your buddy up immediately. Marshmallow yawned and you shot up on your elbow. 

"Who's there..!?" You yelled in a tired tone, surprised at the range of your tired voice. 

"Me!" 

"Who's me..!?" 

"You are..!"

Groaning, you got up, walking to the door and swinging it open. 

The black hair male smiled, he was also in his pyjamas too. You were surprised he didn't go to the party/club with the others. You took it that he was that kind of man. 

"Mr. Park, it's 9.." you wiped your eyes. 

"Actually.." he pulled back his sleeve, raising it to his eye level. "It's 8:34pm," he checked his watch then flashed it to you. 

"Come on, I want to show you something.." he exclaimed. But you shock your head. Turning around, crawled back into bed, not even having energy to cover yourself. 

"Come on f/n..." 

You groaned again, holding the sheets tighter. Till you felt your body drag right off your bed, your sheets now on the ground. 

"Seonghwaaa!!" You called his first name accidentally. 

"F/nnnnn!!" He mocked. 

It's took some effort but the taller male was able to remove you from your room. Leaving marshmallow whose was sleeping too well to be disturbed. 

Arriving to the anonymous destination, it took you a couple seconds to realize you both stood in a bar-like kitchen. The cooking side in the back with a bar table in front. 

"This is my cooking room," Seonghwa said, turning on the lights. The bright shining light nearly blinded you, almost like the sun woke up early, you shielded your eyes almost instantly. 

"Sorry.." he apologized after hearing you groan, dimming the lights lower. 

You sighed, tired, "Mr. Park, why are we here? I'm tired and I have work tomorrow," but the male completely disregard your message. Turning and walked to the oven, he switched it on.

"..Mr. Park..." you called again, scratching the back of your head, eyes still closed. You could heard him shift around the kitchen, grabbing and putting away tools he previously used.

If there's one thing you noticed was the smell. The small was sweet and lively. If your lungs didn't have limits, you would only want to inhale it till they popped. You could almost taste it. 

But it wasn't just food, it was an odor, his oder. You never noticed how he smelled. It smelt luxurious and expensive. 

It reminded you where you stood. He was on level 500 and you're still on 50- if not, you may not even have a level. He bakes, cooks, he's tall, has a pretty face, smooth talker, fights, rich- what else? You? You couldn't even think of anything as of now. You just needed to sleep.

"Aghhh!" You yawned, stretching your arms up, standing on your toes.

"Look, I have work tomorrow, it was nice walk and talk," you turned, stumbling a bit. Brotherly setting your foot near the exit before it slammed shut, a heavy wind nearly knocking you off your feet. 

No words were spoken, just a faint hum coming from the handsome male. At this point, the loud slam had woken you up completely. Your body flinched abit, thanking god that your fingers weren't between the door and the frame. 

The sound made your ears itch.  You tried the door. It was locked. No- it wasn't, but there was something forcing it shut.

"Mr-" 

"Sit down," it wasn't cold, it was more of a soft command. His humming came to a stop, now grabbing a plate, he turned around to face you. 

"Unless you want me to help you with that?"

You slowly shook your head, taking slow steps towards the counter and took a sat in front of him. 

He soft smile came back, going back to what he was doing, the sound of the plate making contact with the marble countertop. 

You just sat there, rubbing your eyes in slight exhaustion. 

"Your hand," he started, spreading, what looked like icing on top of his homemade dessert. You blinked at his words, looking as your hand and back to him. "From Jongho's report, it sounded fucked up.."

Woah...

He swore...

"Um.. yeah- I mean it wasn't that bad.." you stumbled to find the right words. His tone didn't seem too welcoming, to you it was fine, but to others, it definitely wasn't. His voice went deep as if the words in his mind transformed to emotions. A angry one at most.

"Does it hurt...?" He asked, adding the last thing on his desserts. 

"Well-" his stabbed the sweet with a fork, driving the stainless steel straight through the hot dough. 

"Well... it... I never noticed the pain till Jongho touched it, really..." you mumbled, caressing the blue bandage. 

The black hair male walked around the table holding two plates of what you finally see are glazed buns. He placed one in front of you then sat beside you. 

"Oh... I already brushed my teeth.."

"Brush em' again..." he answered, taking a bite of his bun. 

You chewed on your cheek, looking down at the food. The glazed bun, smelt of honey and a touch of cinnamon. The dough was hot, soft, and a right amount of chewy. So why weren't you in the mood to eat this delicious sweet?

"Not eating?" He spoke in English. Swallowing his second bite. 

"I just don't have the appetite to eat."

"For this or to eat in general..?" You turned your head to him. He smiled slightly before taking another bite of his bun. Your eyes ran between the two plates and that was when you realized he had given you the bigger bun.

"Jongho said you haven't been eating.."

"Huh!? I eat, he might've got it wrong.."

Seonghwa shook his head. "You losing appetite confirm your diet," his pointed his fork to you. "You're also losing weight.." 

"What..?" You looked down then touch your face immediately after his comment. "I'm not losing weight.."

"Your asthma has worsened.." he added.

"How do you...?"

"Mingi."

"I'm just not in the mood to eat, that's all."

He stopped chewing, his tongue making a large bulge rising on the side of his cheek before nodding. You heard him exhale from his nose. Putting his fork down, he got up from his chair and walked around back to the kitchen. 

You watched him open a cabinet, taking out a clear glass container. "You'll be taking it back with you then..." he said, his back still facing you. 

"Can I?"

Walking towards you, setting the container in front of him and set his hands on the counter separating you two. Tilting his head a small smile formed on his lips. His long hair falling on the side of his face.

"Well I'm not taking it back, I'm I?" He slid it towards you. 

"Take it to go."

"Listen-" you started.

"You're not hungry?"

"It not that..."

He slid it further towards you. 

"Take it."

Pressing your lips together you gently grabbed the fork but failed as your dominant still resigned in the thick blue cast. The metal fork fell back onto the plate, creating the loud eerie sound that made your teeth hurt. 

You tried again. 

Failed. 

Again. 

Failed. 

At this point you can feel heat rising in you, your ears running hot, your neck forming small beads of sweat. You never felt so... embarrassed and nervous? Your broken hand restricted you the mobility to pick anything up. 

You didn't need to look up to see Seonghwa smug growing wider and wider. 

"Need help?"

"No, I... I got it," you failed again, the fork now falling off the plate. You sighed heavily, using your other hand instead. But of course, since it wasn't your dominant hand, all you did and could do was stab the bun right in the middle.

"Ah-ha.." 

You heard Seonghwa's chuckle and lower his head, hiding his face. 

"F/n, do you need help?"

"No, I got this.."

You successfully put your homemade bun in its container, the only problem was... getting the fork out. 

"Yes... sorry what were you saying..?" You asked leaving the fork perfectly sticking out of the hot dessert. Seonghwa's shook his head.

"Nothing..." he answered, the smile on his face slowly fading. The male licked his teeth, tasting the trapped cinnamon in his teeth.

"I actually brought you here to talk.." his statement made his words sound almost shaky, and sort of filled with uncertainty. 

"Sure... anything wrong?" Your words coming out as a whisper.

He shook his head no. 

"It not really about you in general, it's about what you want to know..." he said. 

You blinked.

Seonghwa thought if he's on hiatus, he mightiest well get to know you. You haven't talked to much people in the building. From Mingi's report, you never talk to him in a way to know him, or he never tries to engage in having a conversation with you. As far as he knows, only him, Mingi and Jongho talked to you. 

He couldn't help but feel kinda bad at your sudden loneliness. He does see your body became smaller. He began to question whether you obtain skills to be able to feed yourself or making enough to buy yourself food. He did remove the dog from your care. So why do you look so... tired?

"Only three questions, go." He commanded, looking straight on. 

"Umm.."

"Quick!"

You stumbled on your words for a bit but soon found a quick question. 

"...Do all of you guys have abilities?" The question has been nagging you for a while. Yeosang, Seonghwa, Jongho, and Wooyoung are the only people you've seen with your own eyes. If you're gonna live here, it nice to know who you're living with.

Seonghwa bit his lip, looking down and yet another smile appeared. 

"Not all of us..."

"Well what are they?" His brows rises. 

"You told me you'll answer them.." you remarked and he sighed, putting his hand together and rested on his elbows.  "Well... I have the ability to levitate things... telekinesis is the scientific name... " he said, breaking eye contact with you, his eyes landing on the fork in your now cold dessert. You tracked his eyes, finding the fork now levitating and spinning clockwise in a fast pace. 

"Wooyoung as you know, is a super soldier... and so am I," you pressed your lips together, looking back to him with questioning eyes. 

"I thought they go rid of that serum..? It's illegal..." Seonghwa's shrugs. 

You bit your lip, furrowing your brows, thinking hard. 

There was a lot of scandals around the super soldier serum. You know Bucky and Sam ran into some individuals who carried it but after that, you never thought the serum would stretch far, let alone Korea. 

"Don't think too much about it... he wouldn't give you much thought, it's only fair..." 

You nodded but still carried it in the back of your mind. The male does have something out for you. You don't know what.. but that's not your current mission, it would probably never be. You don't feel responsible for his anger. 

"Jongho is a mutant... you know, the tail... he can phase through things and teleport," you nodded, impressed.

"What do you think of him?" Seonghwa's asked, cycling around and sitting back beside you.

"Well he's nice, and resourceful..." he raised a brow.

"You were never scared? You know his tail, sometimes glowing eyes..?"

You shook your head, knowing how people treat his kind; mutants that is. "I think it's pretty cool..."

You paused. "You think he'll get mad if I tried to touch it?"

"Then you wouldn't need a pen to sign your death sentence..." Seonghwa joked, to which you chuckled a bit. "Noted."

The conversation went on, Seonghwa continuously talking about his team's abilities. Finding San didn't have any including Jiwoo. 

Hongjoong can read people thoughts, and view their memories if he can touches them. As of now, he leaning to control the consciousness of people minds and maybe get into it. To which you found cool yet scary at the same time. Mind control is something that's wasn't new to you. You've been mind controlled before, it wasn't pretty. You ended up hurting a lot of people... including some you love. One way to describe it is: a horrible hangover.

Yunho has ferrokinesis, the ability to manipulate iron and many metals. You found it odd, he never used it. But you're willing to see it in person. 

"...Yeosang?" 

This time he shook his head. "We don't know what is... but it's not power, it's curse..." he spoke the last words with a bite. Seeing his teammates so vulnerable. Cry in pain, having to change his environment just to keep it at ease. Ever since that American mission, Yeosang 'powers' developed. He has no family history of it, meaning something must've happened in the west. Yeosang has no memory or getting, let alone going on the mission. 

Whoever put their hands on his teammate is still out there, somewhere. That's why Yeosang doesn't do overseas missions anymore.

Mingi- to which you found surprising, can heal. 

"What? Heal?" You question, completely shocked. Seonghwa's laughed, his deep voice softened, "why are you shocked?"

Your lips twitched, "well... he's so... hard and stoic."

If Yunho was here, he would've made a dirty joke about his best friend. But that didn't stop Seonghwa from chuckling a bit. 

"Wha..?" You asked softly.

"Nothing..." he smiled, running his tongue over his front teeth. "You called him hard..."

"He is!- he's so hard, I genuinely don't think he can't get soft... is he soft? like with you guys? I'm sure of it, he doesn't like me I can tell." you almost made Seonghwa choke on his spit. You watch him turn his spinning chair away from you. 

"The ice could be melting- no the metal could be melting and he refuses to see! I thought Karina was odd, but him, he kicks the bucket..." you turned to him, "What?... what's wrong? Was it something I said?" You asked, completely lost. 

Now you had the pretty male cackling, his back facing you. His laugh made your heart skip a beat for a second, you haven't made someone laugh that hard in a while. It made you feel fuzzy. Your stomach flipped and butterflies began to fly. A friend. A real friend. With those dynamic you've see on instagram; those 'you and me' or 'me and my bestie' photos. You hope maybe you could be one of them someday. Your imagination for a 'normal life' is totally different. Versus how you ended up here.

Seonghwa recovered. You grabbed him a tissue for his watery eyes to which he thanked you for. The conversation soon continued after that. The chat leading to Karina. 

He liked his lips, eyes focused on nothing but spaced out a bit, "she's a witch."

"How so..?" You asked, placing a cap over your bun.

"I mean she can do almost everything... it's not full confirmed but... I think she's a blood witch... I worry it might rip her apart..." he spoke in a low tone, worrying about his teams. You found it, somehow- even more attractive, the fact that he cares so much about his team. He did end up making all those buns for a reason. He knows after that party, they're gonna need something sweet after all of that alcohol. 

More of a reason to talk to you. He could be sleeping but chose to talk to you instead to pass time till they come back.

A mom and dad right there. Looking back to your container, your perfectly glazed bun. You only thought of how he wouldn't have never gave you one if he wasn't interested. Being friends that is... he certainly not looking for someone.... You mean, someone like him definitely gonna be taken... right? Your thoughts soon fell on Karina words the other day. 

"I think you should ask him out..." Karina said, lying on your bedroom's floor. It was about 10pm on a Thursday night. Karina swing by to say hi just as you were about to doze off. 

"Who?"

Turning around and onto her elbows. "Seonghwa's duh.."

You shook your head. "Nope, not happening."

Karina pouted. "Or just hook up with him?"

Lying on your bed, you turned your head, looking down to her. Slowly shaking your head in disapproval and disappointment. 

"No?"

"No. 

"Oh come on now!"

Karina sat up, scooting towards you. 

"I heard he uses his power to-" quickly covering your ears with your pillow under your head, you shut your eyes tight and screamed. She continued to talk despite your loud voice. You didn't want his image ruined. 

"KARINA!!"

"A blood witch?" you looked tensely into his eyes. "Like Wanda?"

He shrugged. "Karina can be dangerous, just be careful ok?" He turned to you, looking into your eyes. Looking for something, for you to confirm your safety. 

You were taken back a bit. She's been nothing but sweet to you. She always offering to hang out (as in going out) but you would shut them down. Why? You're too nervous. It's been a while since you had someone that close. Close enough to make friends or to have a girls talk, which is something you craved for- for years. The closest you've been with her was arm. 

"Next question." He stated. 

Another question that has been bothering you was the organization after you, Nuclear. It been mention a couple of times, on and off but since you have a chance to learn some more, why not do so?

"...Who's and what's Nuclear?"

You felt the room drop and Seonghwa's chest slightly tightened at the sudden mention of the name. 

"Nuclear..." he repeated, as if he was testing how the name would roll off his tongue. 

"They're an organized crime group, formed from Russia, they traffic girls, and turn them into widows," he said, not staring at you, looking straight ahead and keeping a serious tone in his voice. 

You blinked, slowly beginning to connect the dots. "Like Black Widow and her childhood enemy?"

"Yup." He corrected. 

You looked back forward, trying to process the information. Trying to tie the dots together. 

"I thought he had died..."

"Oh his is, but he had successors, to which are still looking for you..."

You looked over you to him again, scratching the bowls glass sides. Your thumb nail slipping only to repeat the action. 

You both sat in a comfortable silence, swinging your legs from the high chair. 

"Mr. Park." You called gently.

"Hm?" He hummed using his powers to open a cabinet and made two glasses fly out of it. You watched them land gently on to the marble counter just as another cabinet from beneath it opened. A clear golden liquid danced in the glass bottle as the cap popped off before it tilted itself  to pour the- what you assume is alcohol- into the two glasses. 

After watching it, you turned to see him focusing on pouring you two a shot. His eyes were tensed, but his body was calm and relaxed. 

You couldn't help but trigger something that made him suddenly pull the alcohol. 

"Sorry." 

"Huh?" He asked. The shot now sitting in front of you. 

"That question must've touched something it shouldn't have..." you apologized. 

He shook his head. Resting on his hand, head facing you with a smile on his face. 

"I like you F/n," he stated which made your brain go blink. This guy seriously doesn't think before speaking..!

"Oh- Oh... thanks." You answered, putting both hands around the small glass. Shaking the glass gently, you were hesitate to take that shot. You never drunk. You're scared of the bitter taste, not wanting that to be the last thing on your tongue before sleeping.

"I like you too- I mean you're fine- like you're nice, at least to me... I mean you can still kill me... but I don't think you'll will..." you rambled, now grabbing the fork from your bowl and began to play with the handle. You would rambled, going on without much thought of what was coming out of your mouth, all while he teasingly smiled and nodded at every odd word coming from your mouth.

"...You won't right?" You whispered, giving his a quick glance, eyes falling back to your drink as you noticed him looking at you. 

The corners of his lips twitched. He noticed this- He noticed this for a while. It's something his gonna get out of you, one way or another. So he thought of something...

He nudged your elbow with his. Turning back to him, you noticed his mouth open, as if he was trying to find words. 

"Jagiya, how about this: If you can hold eye contact with me, I'll... do whatever you want..." his challenged, looking straight into your eyes, the corner of his plump lips lifting. 

"...How long..?" You asked, rolling your hand on each side of your shot glass. You didn't face him when you asked, only giving him more of a reason to believe you won't last two seconds. 

"40 seconds." He answered quick and easy. Turning his body to you, his caressed his thighs, his thick ring nearly getting caught on his pants. You watched his fingers squeeze them; probably for stress and tension relief. 

But you couldn't help but fire them a quick peek. 

"For-ty-sec-onds." He taunted, leaning in closer. 

"And I'll do anything for you, F/n..." his whispered. The fork suddenly flying straight out of your hand, shooting straight forward, impaling the kitchen wall.

Oh...ok...

"Okayy... I'll do it, just hold on..." you replied quickly as his bubble came closer to yours. 

Turning to him, your knees touching his, your eyes shifting between anything but him. 

"You're already breaking the rules."

"The game didn't start..."

"Game? it's not a game." That alone made you look at him. A dirty smile forming on his lips once more. 

"For me it is, for you, It shouldn't be..." you gulped. Not noticing his hands sliding closer to your knees. He leaned in, closer to you.

You held it, for a couple seconds, about 20 seconds before you flinched. His hands made its way to your thighs. When your body reacted, he immediately lifted his hands but you grabbed his wrist, leaving them where they were. His hand were now gripping them, the muscles were almost hard, showing how fit your thighs were. It kinda felt like a stress ball.

"F/n..? Sorry... I-" 

You squeezed your eyes shut. "My thighs are ticklish..." you whispered, letting go of his wrist. But he didn't move, still in his leaned-in pose. A breath escaped his nose, a dry chuckle.

"Ahhhhh- You cheated tho, I win.. what's my prize?"

He bowed his head, hiding his face. 

"Me, tell me and you'll receive.." he answered removing his hands from your thighs. 

Easy game. Seonghwa loves to play this game on conflicted feelings. He played this 'do this and I'll do anything' a couple time. People who are drawn to his handsome sculpted face would want nothing but to eradicate his body, hear what his sounds like, rip him apart for pleasure. 

This is a test for him, not a game. But last a test for you. Just to see who you really are. Was he wasting his time? He couldn't help it, it's either you two get it over with sooner or later. Because he feels like later might be too late. 

You could ask anything... anything! Ask someone who can do anything to do anything! You hit the real jackpot! Karina words ringed in your head, your thought cloud was covered in her dirty words. Your body wanted it, your lonely soul wanted it.

Your eyes landed on his warm hands gripping your slightly shaking thighs. His thumb moved slightly, the pads pressing down hard. 

Then it hit you. He was actually trying to tempt you. Trying to make you want it. But due to the lack of any type of intimacy. The touching didn't make you crave it, only made you even more nervous. And your excitement quickly turned hysterically shy. 

Wrapping your hands around his wrist, you gently pulled his hand off one of the most sensitive part of your body. You smiled before saying what you wanted... it was a simple and respectful request.

One Seonghwa didn't see coming. 

"Can I get a phone plan?" You asked, which made Seonghwa's smile drop from ten to one. 

"I- I can't do that.." he muttered, removing his hand from the warmth of your thighs 

"Oh come onnnn... I promise it's for a good reason!" You used both hand to grab one of his biceps and shook it gently. 

"F/n I can't, it's against the rules..."

"It's my prize..." you whined. 

"And you'll get one, just not that, now asked again." His demanded calmly, leaning in a tapped your nose gently.

After a small talk, you both concluded that this was the end of your night. You sat in his room for over an hour. 

It was nice, like talking to an old friend, you could do this more. Just not during your bed time...

"No work.."

"Huh?"

"You said you had work..." Seonghwa walked around the counter, taking your dirty dish. "Your broken hand... Kim already cut your schedule, check in with Jongho in two days..."

"But-"

"That's an order, Jagiya." Biting your lips, you nodded, squeezing your container. 

"Yes sir..." Seonghwa chuckled. 

"Never call me that..." he said taking both glasses, both shots still in them. 

"What then?"

"... Seonghwa... and no more Mr. Park... I'm only a year older than you, I'm not that old," he said turning around to the sink.  "Have a good night F/n," he said and you gently returned him a smile. 

"Goodnight... Seonghwa..." you bowed slightly and took your exit, navigating through the halls and back to your room where you found Marshmallow now on the other side of the room; it seems she moved her bed near the open window for some air. 

You sighed and put the now cold bun into the fridge before heading to your comfortable sheets.

After leaving his kitchen, Seonghwa was now sitting in his office, brought his legs up on his desk, sighing and recalling the night he had with you. He looked at the two shot that remained untouched. 

"She's definitely something, isn't she?" He mumbled, typing something on his phone. One hand on his phone and the other on his thigh. The ghost of your warm shaking thigh still lingered on his palm. He sighs, feeling kinda bad and surprised at the fact he pulled a move on you. He knew you wanted to fall into the temptation, but chose not too. He got rejected, and this time it didn't hurt. He could only smile.

Turning back to his phone, he requested exactly what you wanted, despite what he told you.

You laid in your bed, eyes still wide open, thinking about the night. Seonghwa, the powers, Karina, Mingi... You had so many questions to ask him, but he's not the best person you can talk to. You just can't seem to 'talk' to him without any eye contact or becoming a stuttering mess. 

"UGH! how can I be so stupid?!?" 

You ran your hands up and down your thighs in a stressful manner. Immediately the thought was replaced with the phantom of Seonghwa hands squeezing them. His long fingers with his thick rings pressed your squishy muscly thighs. 

Then you realize something... did someone just try to make a move on you...?

NEXT MORNING BOUNS

"I can't give you want, sorry I'll risk people tracking you." Seonghwa's said as the sun came back up, he meet you outside of your room. He leaned against the entrance of your room by the wall.

"You said you wanted to make a call?" He asked, taking out his phone. 

"Use mine." He called. Nudging it to you. You grabbed the phone gently and began to type away the number on the phone pad. 

"Can I take it into my room for a second?" You asked to which he silently hummed and gestured his hand to your door. 

You mumbled a small thanks and quick entered your room to make a quick phone call. It ringed a couple time before the person on the other line picked up. 

"Hello, this is Happy Hogan speaking." 

"HAPPY!" You yelled. 

"... yes?"

"It's me, F/n. F/n L/n..."

"..."

"Holy shit kido! How are you?" He yelled by in the same tone as you. To which you smiled brightly. 

"I'm ok, kinda got myself in a pickle but-"

"You want me to get you out of the pickle?" The older head leaned back against his office chair. His shoulders relaxed after hearing a familiar voice. 

Happy was Tony Starks personal assistant. You guys formed a bond between the years of working with the avengers. He was the one who fit the perfect father figure after the first foster one failed. He kinda was the one who kept you from fighting in all of the chaotic wars the Avengers were in as you weren't a legal adult. 

"unfortunately you can't help me in this one- I'm just curious, do you remember that one guy... um- oh! Aldrich Killian!?"

"That fire-y bastard?"

"Yeah, you don't happen have an injection for a user...?I'm trying to... you know..."

There was a pause on the line. 

"Holy shit F/n, what did you get yourself into?"

NOTES

❌ • You're growing a soft spot for Yeosang. Something about him makes you comfortable despite his weird nature

❌ • Hongjoong and Yunho run a secret therapy program outside of the therapy circle

❌ • with that phone call; You can't do much as of right now, but you can aid the ones who can

❌ • F/n been feeling low lately but after the night she had with Seonghwa, she started to feel a little better and less anxious

<<<<<<Previous Chapter | Next Chapter>>>>>>>

OUT ON WATTPAD TOO

I am so sorry for the wait. I got constant blocks, it was already written but i wanted to edit it to make it more interesting but it got SOO messy. This chapter is over 12k words the draft is over 14k. I CUT SO MUCH. 

I also had been busy with school and finals are almost over 🎉 I'll be going home to rest for about a bit so I hope I can get out of this writers block! Till then, thank you for your patience. Take care of yourselves and I <3 y'all.

Also genuine question, how do we like the MC?

Taglist! <3

@yayaistime @mermaid17venus @yeodeulz @fr34k4c1dr41n @yoongi-tunes @chocolate-scoups @pandafuriosa60 @lngwayup @huachengsbestie01

[cowsareonsaturn]

Bananas are 4011. If there's anything I’ve learned from a grocery store, It’s that Navel oranges are 4012. It’s that we talk about football and Mr. Smith has got his money on the eagles, because Jalen Hurts needs a win. It’s that little girls will hand you all the cash they have for a pack of bubble gum, and their mothers teach them to apologize and drop quarters, snatching back change. Sometimes when I have to pick up carts from outside, there's a rainbow. Once it was night, there was a clap of thunder followed by a big downpour of rain. All I could do was laugh. Grief pulls ladies through an express lane with her buggy full of groceries, I take them anyway. Her son is dead, I explained to my manager, she said she thought she saw him in the chip aisle. I once guessed an apple number: 3243, Gala. Old ladies will blush if you compliment their outfits. They’ll tell you that this yellow knit sweater is older than you, darling. They’ll pat you on the hand when you hand them the receipt.

If there’s anything I’ve learned from a grocery store, It’s that love permeates all. When the families come in for their Sunday chicken, we speak about missing eggs and Wholefoods, who surely would have a better supply. About how our months are going, Lord knows they only move too fast or too slow. Never a happy medium. I picked up Wednesdays and met the worn-down crowd. Scrub donning women, and the abrasive orange of construction workers. Dirty money passed down and out: how would you like that $20 back? The holiday rush. The southern woman who told me near tears, she would rather answer to God than her elderly mama. The engagements, the apology flowers. Fumbling teenage boys who leave their cards in the machines, so quick to move on to the next thing, the next person, next place. The god awful music! The chocolate bars and pamphlets on christianity I get from old men. The ache in my soles, my cracked hands. It’s all romantic in a sense. A convergence of humanity in its purest form. United sweetly through raw meat and bread. Through standing in queues, commenting on cake and 3 for $12 flowers out of boredom. Through the exhale of seeing familiar faces, little crowds forming by the pharmacy--enthralled with the sudden clashing of separated lives. It’s all quite beautiful, really. For me though. Sweet potatoes are 4091. I’m just here to witness it all. Beep! How are you? Beep! Your total is, Beep! I love you, I’ll never see you again.

[jamiesfootball]

some word(s) for you (so you have options): lie, slow, green, night

Thank yoooooooou. I took all the options : )

Lie

Soon as he was given the all-clear, Jamie checked himself out of the hospital. The doctors fussed at him about concussion protocol, but it was nothing Jamie hadn’t heard before, and once he’d repeated it back to them and assured them that he had someone back at the house who could look after him, they were mollified. Jamie called himself an Uber and went home. It wasn't a lie, technically. They didn’t need to know it was more the other way around. Wasn’t his first concussion but it wasn’t his dad’s either. Jamie stiffened as James tilted his face up into the kitchen light. His old man let out a low whistle. “Damn, Barnett really has it in for you, lad.” He sounded impressed. “Recorded the match. The second you got carted off, Obisanya lost the ball in a challenge. Nearly bottled it once he got it back, but the scoundrel pulled through in injury time.” He leaned in like they were conspiring together. “Injury time you earned them, by the way.” Jamie didn’t comment.

Slow

Slowly, Jamie relaxed. Jan took the cue and applied more pressure. He pushed his thumbs into the base of his skull, drawing circles as he worked his way upwards. The hair in the back was shorn short so it was fairly easy to clean. He scrubbed everything back and forth, up and down, until the bristles were squeaky and smooth under his fingers. He cupped his hand under the water. "Head down."

Green

Jamie huffed. "Not gonna need more coffee at this rate." He scrubbed a hand over his face - and then buried his face in both his hands, rubbing at the circles under his eyes. "Sorry." "For what?" "For this. When I called him last night, I didn't think he'd show up." Roy froze. He squeezed the mug of tea in his hands, let the warmth ground him. He counted backwards from ten, forwards to ten counting all the things he could spy outside that were green (all of them), and then backwards from ten again for good measure.

Night

At night the pain came for him. He woke with his leg on fire. The days did not let him heal; the nights were for prolonging the agony. Each moment as fresh as the first. Ceaseless. Unending. A fire that would not let him die. Dani learned to be grateful that in this place, the fire was only a metaphor.

[sillymarigolds]

Well it has been a hot minute. I wanted to share something with all of you wonderful THG/Everlark peeps! This WIP based on @promptsinpanem's "Peeta's Paintbox" has been sitting on my computer unloved for a while because (a) I'm not sure what I'm doing with it and (b) I'm more time poor than usual.

I've signed up to @promptseverlark's Summer "This Would Have Happened Anyway" challenge and am hoping that will give me a big kick up the gluteus maximus to get back into writing because I miss Everlark and all of the beautiful creativity they inspire.

Without further ado...

Peeta's Paintbox (A WIP)

Since coming back to District Twelve, Katniss, Haymitch and I have come into our own rhythm of sorts.

Katniss hunts, Haymitch drinks, and I bake.

Despite not having done it in over a year, my body remembers the bakery’s hours. I rise with the earliest of bird calls when dawn still lies faint on the horizon.

Each morning I bake fresh bread. I add different spices, seeds, and nuts; try new combinations that would have made my mother frown.

Peeta's Paintbox (A WIP)

Since coming back to District Twelve, Katniss, Haymitch and I have come into our own rhythm of sorts.

Katniss hunts, Haymitch drinks, and I bake.

Despite not having done it in over a year, my body remembers the bakery’s hours. I rise with the earliest of bird calls when dawn still lies faint on the horizon.

Each morning I bake fresh bread. I add different spices, seeds, and nuts; try new combinations that would have made my mother frown.

I think my father would have liked the cranberry, orange and almond. He always loved when we could get oranges. He would carefully take off the rind to grate into cakes and divide the orange into segments – always eight –  putting aside four for his baking and then giving one to each of us brothers, saving the last one for himself.

When the bread is baking, I start on cookies to take to the workers clearing rubble and burying the dead. I would prefer to make little iced cakes, but they are difficult to carry and distribute. I tried once, but the icing melted in the midday sun and smeared across the inside of the carry boxes.

The cookies I make never taste right. Father always said he would only tell me the secret ingredient when I got older. Now the secret has been buried with him.

I have been past where the bakery once stood, and there is nothing left but ashes. I almost went to laugh at the irony, but my throat was so dry that all I could do was choke out was a cough that brought tears to my eyes. I had to wipe my eyes on my sleeve and come straight home before the sadness turned to anger.

I keep busy, walking through the streets handing out cookies to the crews that cart away what is left of the old District Twelve. I want sometimes for it to be back as it was, but other times I cannot wait to see it rebuilt from the ashes. I just wish there hadn’t been a need for all this suffering to make change. I take as indirect a route as I can manage, trying to soak up the hours until I know Katniss will be back again and I can start making dinner, keeping my hands and my mind busy.

I think about painting. The catharsis it gave me after I returned from the first Games. But my studio upstairs lays untouched. It feels haunted by the past. 

Today lots of crews have gone home early, so I find myself back hours before the twilight. I walk into the kitchen, looking around for a task. Each baking sheet, mixing bowl and spatula has already been scrubbed and is sitting drying in the afternoon sun. The kitchen benches have already been wiped down, smelling faintly of lemon.

I turn and walk through to the living room. The mending basket is empty, and the kindling box neatly stacked full. My fingers start to itch, feeling idle. Today is Katniss’s favourite kind of day in the woods, sunny and cool, so I know she will be gone some hours yet. Sinking down into the rocking chair, I close my eyes and curl each one of my fingers slowly in turn, pretending I am combing them through her dark hair.

I rock gently back and forth, curling my fingers over and over until I feel my heart skip a beat and then thud hard against my chest as if to compensate. My breath catches and I can feel the blood pulsing in my ears, accelerating as if to reach a crescendo. My knuckles are white as I grip the arms of the chair, eyes screwed shut.

My name is Peeta Mellark. I live in District Twelve. I survived the Hunger Games twice. I was tortured and survived.  I am safe now.

I am safe now.

I am safe now.

I start to whisper the words until I feel my heart slow and my grip loosen.

I decide to have a glass of water and I am greeted by a rainbow projected across the kitchen floor as the sunlight scatters through the glass mixing bowls. Each colour looks so vibrant and beautiful individually, but the collection of them spread at my feet stirs something inside me. It makes me think of the tubes of paint lined up beside the easel upstairs.

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

Akane’s birthday was always the least thing to celebrate. No one was able to pay for a cake or a gift, no one to wish her a celebration, no one to even remember her birthday. She was more someone who would try and make her siblings’ birthdays a blast even if she gifted them something like a cheap car toy or a teddy bear made out of one of her old shirts and then feeding said birthday sibling something from the store or food cart with the money she saved up from her part time job. 

For years that’s how she lived, always orborating around her seven siblings like the Earth around the sun and never letting them not feel loved, never even once.

For years she dealt with being in the shadows while her parents didn’t do anything that isn’t lounging about and making love every night, making sure all seven were fed and bathed and got homework done before all her own needs. For years she dealt with working and doing the hardest tasks of her jobs so the little ones could at least get a rice ball in their stomachs. For years she dealt with the uncomfortable amount of lustful stares and wandering hands for the sake she won’t somehow seem weak to her siblings.

For years she never once bid to the selfish side.

A scream echoes across the hospital walls with the summer sun shining outside, people rushing and hurrying to the room with the scream’s source. Akane never once became selfish for years yet on the day of her 29th birthday her water broke.

It started a few years ago, a few weeks shy of her 18th birthday, when she became a mother for the first time with the help of her dearly beloved Nekomaru helped convinced her and their dearly sweetest Teruteru on helping him raise their small fireball Masaru after hearing what horrors he went through growing up. That boy grew fed, loved, cared for, and thanks to that household Masaru grew up very well alongside the other adults.

The three never really desired to get married at first but after Akane’s 21st birthday the men proposed to her and she quickly became from Akane Owari to Akane Nidai Hanamura, wife of top chef Teruteru Hanamura and mother of strong young boy Masaru Nidai. 

God, does thinking of that firework’s speech during the wedding melts their heart as he thinks how far he has grown since being that cocky scared boy.

Masaru paces back and forth in one of the waiting rooms, indeed no longer a scared little boy and now growing in his teen years strong and wise alongside the previous Warriors of Hope. “Will ma be okay?” He asked, his anxiety not hiding in his voice too well as his big blue eyes wide as his black nails pick and mess with his twitch of eager angst. 

Kotoko, like Masaru and the others grown quite well in her new family with her pink hair now cut in a very short style in a way it’d obviously modeled after the group’s idol, reaches up and stops his pacing with a soft yet firm wrist grab. “Calm down there tiger,” Said she, her voice still an adorable song bird but now softer and toner like a mocking jay’s sing song, “Your mama can handle a lot, that much is true. I don’t think she would like seeing you so stressed too.” 

The boy breathed in and slumped into a chair next to her with a heavy sigh.

After a few more minutes of defending slicing after the random screams and the wall clock clicking, the tall muscular man with a neat beard that is the most famous Gym Manager Nekomaru Nidai comes out of the room in scrubs and a look of awe and tears in his face.

Everyone stands on their feet watching him walk closer until they can read his beaming big smile before his booming voice shouts out, “It’s a girl!”

After some turns walking in people were finally able to see the tired Akane holding a wrapped bundle of joy in her hospital bed with a tearful face of Teruteru sitting beside the bed, red faced and sniffing with a big smile on his face. Her tired, tearful, yet beyond happy eyes finally look at the guest as she moves the blanket some showing the beautiful face of her newborn baby girl. “Hey guys, meet Momoka Hanamura.”

Meaning behind the name?

The ship?

I will die on this ship and me liking Teruteru