#he's a quiet expression of love type of guy argue with the wall (crashing out)

[crsssie]

quiet - spencer reid x sharpshooter!reader

"Wind speed is—"

"It's windier than usual." You huff, situated at the top of the dock as you stare down through the scope. "Hotch."

"Can you get the shoulder without harming the boy?"

"It would be a gamble."

"Will you hit a major artery?"

"Guaranteed no."

"Hold fire."

You watch as Morgan tries to argue with the unsub, your fingers reaching to pull the earpiece from one side, staring as Morgan succeeds in talking him down, the boy free from his arms as you sit up and plug your earpiece back in, rolling your shoulder back as you nod at Morgan.

You sit at the police station with Reid as he finishes up the last bits of the profile.

"You know, I always wondered how it'd feel to find a victim that I actually know." You hum.

"Let's pray you never do." Hotch mumbles.

"I don't want to, but I wonder." You organize the papers in your hand, closing the tablets as Spencer stares at you.

"And if one of us ends up—"

"Don't even finish that sentence." You grumble. "The day I know a victim, I'm killing myself."

"Okay, that's not—"

"I passed my psych eval. Chill." You hold your hand out at Hotch. "Besides, I couldn't leave our boy wonder to hold up alone with geographical profiles, hm?"

"I did it alone before meeting you." He raises a brow.

"But we've gotten faster with them." Hotch nods. "Wheels up in thirty."

You lock eyes with Spencer, and you stick your tongue out.

"I'm still smarter." He huffs.

"It's alright. When the day comes, we'll see which one of us actually survive." You wrap up your bag, humming quietly as Spencer watches everyone else leave. "What's wrong?"

"Just wanted a moment." He mumbles, staring out the glass as he tilts his head down to brush noses with you. "I'll do the laundry when we get back. The wind must've been disorienting."

"Not the worst thing ever." You close your eyes, humming. "I'll cook dinner?"

"Sounds fair." He opens his eyes when Rossi walks out, straightening himself. "Come on. Let's go."

[thesoftestpunk]

Outside, up all night

Summary: You knew it was dumb to be at a party of a guy you knew didn’t like you but everyone else at school was going. You bump into Eddie and lovely chaos ensues.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x female!Reader

Word count: 3378

A/N: There’s brief descriptions of reader as bullies say her nose is too big and tits are too small but bullies suck and honestly we all see ourselves so different so it can be read as insecurity.

Warnings: bullying, emetophobia! Reader throws up and there’s a convo about it, smoking, drugs, and just lots of fluff and tension.

You knew it was dumb to be at a party of a guy you knew didn’t like you but everyone else at school was going. Your best friend had reiterated it every chance she got until you agreed. Neither of you were the party type, but it was senior year, so fuck it. 

And it’s not like it’s his fault for talking kind of shit about you while you unknowingly listened. Like, sure, you can’t help but agree that your nose might be a little big and your tits are a little small, so was he really saying anything wrong? But when he said he’d still fuck you despite these less than desirable qualities, bile rose and you felt the need to just run. You make it as far as the pool in the backyard where most everyone is swimming in their own underwear. Fuck it, you think as you strip out of your jumpsuit. You had forgone your bra and matched it with a white top underneath, but you don’t think about it as you jump in. It calms you as you’re forced to not breathe and just be able to think.. It’s quiet other than the occasional muffled shout. 

You push yourself further down, watching everyone’s legs. Some tangle together, and others kick each other apart. It’s serene under the water, watching the light bounce off all the walls and bodies. There’s the slight burn of chlorine in your eyes as you take in every blurry limb. The water crashing as someone jumps in echoes in your ears and you watch as they quickly swim back up. Your lungs begin to burn as you just begin to  graze the bottom of the pool. 

Coming up at the last possible second, you press your back against the cool tile, trying to catch your breath. You’re still nauseous as you watch your classmates having fun. This isn’t fun. Instead, you pull yourself out where you’re at, hoping to find your clothes easily. They lay exactly where you left them, but two people stand over them unintentionally. One you recognize right away despite not seeing his face clearly. The Indiana humidity makes the frizz of his hair almost twice as big, but you only knew one person in your entire school, hell probably the entire county, with hair like that. The sound of your tiny gasps grabs his attention, turning his head quickly, his doe eyed expression illuminated by the lights from the pool. Just as his eyes fall to your chest, that you don’t even realize is incredibly visible at the moment, yours lands directly to the baggie of weed in his hand littered with rings. A crumpled wad of cash is held out to him by a fellow classmate you're too embarrassed to look in the eye. 

“You okay?” Eddie notices how panicked you seem. “You look a little… green.”

“I’m—“ you have to swallow the bile that threatens to rise again, but you don't have much success this time. At least you’re able to avoid throwing up on him and the other guy who takes several dramatic steps back. 

“Shit.” Eddie mutters as you gag on nothing. It was a pathetic spittle of a puke when the only thing in your stomach was three sips of shitty beer. 

“I’m fine,” you hold a hand out to keep him back in case there’s more.

“Okay, come on.” Eddie takes off his jacket -his fucking leather jacket- and wraps it around your shoulders since you’re too wet from the pool to get your jumpsuit back on. Before you can argue, he’s guiding you through the house, up the stairs and into an empty bedroom. “If you need to puke again, the bathroom is right here,” he points to a door within the bedroom which he enters before emerging with a towel. 

“How much have you had to drink?” 

“I’m not drunk,” you say. He leaves you a shivering mess in the middle of the spacious room as he digs around in one of the dressers. “What are you doing? This isn’t…”

“I doubt Jason Carver is going to miss a couple items of clothing.” Walking back over to you, he hands you a fresh t-shirt and a pair of boxers. “I can grab you some water while you change.”

“Seriously,” you drape the towel over your trembling shoulders. “I’m not drunk. I only had half of some disgusting beer.” 

“I can get you something better if you’d like?”

“I’d rather not.” Your face burns at the thought of embarrassing yourself even more in front of him. 

“I’ll be back y/n. Lock the door behind you and I’ll do a really weird knock to let you know it’s me.”

Watching him leave, you wonder how he knew your name. Honestly, you didn’t think you were on anyone’s radar at school. That’s why you threw up. It freaked you out that popular kids were talking about you behind your back. Especially in the way that Jason had. Shaking that from your head, you change quickly. It doesn’t matter that the door is locked. You feel like you’re being watched no matter how impossible that would be here. The tshirt Eddie stole smells like a stereotypical boy. Unlike the deep musky scent you caught from the leather jacket. You decide to skip the underwear, feeling weird about the owner being Jason. 

Just as he promised, he knocks in the most ridiculous rhythm just as you’re zipping your jumpsuit back up. It makes you laugh but you hide it when you open the door. You don’t want him thinking you liked him or anything. 

“So, riddle me this,” he says as he hands you the cup of water in exchange for the wet clothes. Somehow he managed to find a trash bag to put them in. “If you’re not drunk, why’d you puke?” 

“It’s… a long stupid story.” You look away, feeling stupid about how you reacted. 

Eddie sits on the bed, patting the spot next to him for you to join. It’s weird how he looks less intimidating without the leather and a smile. Sighing heavily, you take the opportunity and sit next to him. 

“It involves Jason actually,” you explain bitterly before continuing. “I guess I should start with the fact that my friend swore to me that he had a crush on me, but he was kissing someone else. That’s not really the point. I knew he didn’t and I’m not into bimbos like him.”

He looks amused by the fact that you called Jason a bimbo. 

“I just freaked because he and his friends were talking about me without knowing I was listening. I’m not even sure how they got on the topic but I heard my name and stayed. One of the girls mentioned my nose was too big and another guy said something about how my tits are too small. Jason said… despite all of these not so appealing qualities, he’d still be down to fuck me.” 

“Okay…” Eddie looks away, eyes darting around as he processes the information before landing back on you. “So that’s why you got sick?”

“I- I have this anxiety thing. It just didn’t occur to me before that people actually talked about me I guess? Especially like that. It’s not just Jason’s fault, you know.” You had noticed his clenched jaw even if he was trying to be subtle about it. “It’s his friends too.”

“He still said it.” 

“Seriously, dude, it’s nothing. I don’t care about a word that comes out of his mouth. I just had a small attack is all. Sometimes I puke. Sometimes I don’t.” 

Eddie nods slowly, trying to act cool about it. What could he even do? It wasn’t like he was capable of fighting the stupid jock. 

“Well,” he pulls out a rolled joint from within his pockets, a wicked smile on his face. “I’ve got just the perfect cure.” 

“Eddie.” You laugh incredulously, but it comes off more as shock.

“What? Never smoked a little weed?”

“Of course but-“ you ignore the surprise on his face, twisting your hands together nervously before continuing. “Jason had two rules. Don’t break anything and don’t smoke inside.”

“Again, why do you care?” But he notices the way you chew on your bottom lip and your leg begins to shake. He understood your anxieties despite being such a loud, eccentric person, and he wasn’t going to just make you feel worse. “How about this? We go out to my van and smoke there?”

“Why? So you can have your way with me once I’m too intoxicated?” You can’t help but tease. Underneath that tough looking exterior, you knew Eddie had a soft side. It was clear the moment he covered you up and helped take care of you. 

“Look, we don’t have to. It’s- it’s your choice, sweetheart.” The deep blush covering his cheeks makes you feel guilty. 

“I’m sorry. I was kidding. If you’re cool with it, I’d rather smoke in your van.” 

Eddie holds open the bedroom door for you, but you still let him lead the way once you’re both out in the hallway. You follow behind closely, clutching the plastic bag in your hand nervously. A few sets of eyes follow the both of you, curious, but you keep your eyes on the floor to ignore them. Once you get downstairs and the crowd gets thicker, you see Eddie reach behind his back for you. When you hesitate too long, he turns around to make sure you’re still there.

“Don’t want you getting lost.” 

His smile is comforting enough for you to reach out and have his hand envelope yours. He keeps you close, squeezing when students around get particularly rowdy and almost tear your hand away. Even when there’s only a straggler here and there outside, he keeps your hand in his until you’re in front of his van. He opens the passenger door for you before jogging around to the other side. It’s a little dirty, you notice as he’s trying to find his lighter, but nothing you hadn’t expected. It stinks of old weed, and you wonder how often he must hotbox in here before the click of his lighter grabs your attention. 

He takes a painstakingly long hit, his cheeks hollowing before pulling the joint from his lips and out to you, and sucks in a sharp breath, holding it. His eyes never wander from yours, even when you bring up your nervously trembling hand to your lips. Slowly, he breathes out, some smoke escaping his nostrils as if he were a dragon. As if sensing your shyness of smoking in front of him, his eyes slip shut and his head falls back. You take a significantly smaller hit, afraid you’d become a coughing mess if you followed his lead. Quickly, the van fills with smoke as the two of you pass the joint back and forth. You find yourself loosening up, muscles no longer tense and laughing at Eddie’s attempts of smoke tricks. 

“I thought you said you don’t do this much.” Eddie narrows his eyes when you make a perfect smoke ring. To which, you just shrug a shoulder and give a sly smile. Well, if you were going to play like that… “Ever shotgun before?”

The confusion on your face and tilt of your head is answer enough. 

“Come closer,” he waves you forward and you comply without a second thought. He chuckles and gently grabs your chin. “Closer, sweetheart. I don’t bite. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.” 

You would give him a gentle shove if it weren’t for his thumb parting your bottom lip from the top. As he takes in another slow drag, you wait patiently, enjoying the sight of his soft eyes up close. 

“I breathe out,” he sucks in a breath, and his voice sounds warped from the burning smoke in his lungs. “You breathe in, got it?”

You can hardly even nod, afraid you’ll bump your lips into his. The warmth of the smoke lets you know to start breathing in. It tickles the back of your throat but you’re only focused on the fact that you’re a hair’s breadth away from kissing Eddie Munson. The flash of blue light from the corner of your vision stops you, and then you both hear the distant sirens. 

“Shit!” Eddie hisses under his breath, and tosses what is essentially a roach at this point in an empty cup holder. He turns the engine quickly while you cough out the smoke. 

“Wait!” You gasp between coughs, eyes watering at the burning in your throat. “My friend. She’s inside! We’ve got to—“

“It’s every man for himself at this point.” As he puts the van into drive, you hear distant screaming from the teenagers inside, bodies spilling out of the house at an alarming rate. The tires squeal as he slams on the gas, and swerves when a classmate nearly runs in front of them on the road. “If she’s as smart as you, she’ll run.” 

Turning in your seat, you barely get to see the police skidding to a halt and running out of their vehicles after kids. You pray that your best friend doesn’t get caught. 

“D’you think they saw us?”

“Even if they did, do you really think Hopper is gonna send more than two cars out?” 

Well, he made a fair point. Still, it doesn’t stop your leg from shaking nervously, your thoughts probably going as fast as Eddie is driving. Despite the darkness, he takes notice of your nerves. If your heart wasn’t racing already, it surely would when he puts a hand on your knee. 

“Let me take you home. Where do you live?”

“Just off Maple.” You find yourself playing with the class ring on his right hand and wonder what year is engraved on the side. 

“Hanging in over there?” 

“Yeah. I’ve just never had to run away from the cops before.” You laugh softly, the warm buzz still in your system. “You make it look easy.”

“You think I do this on a daily basis?” He pretends to be offended.

“Eddie, I think it’s your job.” You giggle. Yeah, you’re definitely still super high. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, fingers squeezing your knee playfully. “You’re hanging in just fine.” 

There’s a long stretch of silence while Eddie drives, one hand on the wheel, the other still on your knee. You take it and hold it up to the moonlight, observing it at different angles. It would be hard for you to explain, even buzzed, but there was something beautiful about his hands when the moonlight caught them just right. The ring shines, distracting you and you slip it from his middle finger, fiddling with it in your own hands. Eddie almost doesn’t know what to do now that you seem bored of his hand that hovers awkwardly in the air. That is until you take notice and place it back over your knee, thinking nothing of it. 

“You know,” his voice surprises you. “All that shit Carver and his douchebag friends said about you… it’s not true. And, you know, you deserve sex with a guy who finds you beautiful. Which you are.”

“Oh.” Your ears burn at the thought of that guy being him. It’s a thought you realize you don’t mind having. “Oh. Thank you. Um, you’re beautiful too.”

“Yeah,” he snorts. “And I’ve got a great rack.” 

That makes you snort, a sound you thought was ugly, but his smile only grows bigger as you let out a string of laughter. You’re still letting out tiny giggles as he pulls onto your street, and you give him directions to your house. As he parks a couple houses down, you’ve calmed down, giving him a dopey smile when he puts the car in park.

“I have to be honest,” Eddie starts. “I knew of you. I mean, Cassie talks you up all the time to her other friends, and Robin talks about you too. I just didn’t think I’d ever be able to talk to you.”

“Aw, thought I was too cool for you?” 

“No. Yes.” He says instead not wanting to sound rude. “No. I just didn’t wanna scare you is all. I knew you were shy.”

“You think you’re scary?” Your head tilts and he can see the sincerity in your eyes despite how dark it is. The only light comes from a street lamp behind himself, dimly illuminating half your face. 

“Everyone does.” He fidgets with his rings, an obvious tell. “You don’t?”

“I mean,” you blow out a puff of air in thought. “I guess at first glance, yeah, but then when you’re in the lunchroom acting up with all your friends, you’re just this huge goofball. You love the bad attention so much that you’re a terrible public speaker when it comes to oral assignments. Plus, I heard Chrissy Cunningham say how you were such a gentleman during your deal.” 

You realize your mistake when his lips curl into a grin, mischief in his eyes, and you curse how loose the weed made your lips. Of course you noticed Eddie fucking Munson. Who wouldn’t? But they all saw him as some freak, while you found his excitability captivatingly endearing. With being so not well known, it was easy to blend in and watch everyone around you, including him. Especially him. 

“I, uhm,” you clear your throat awkwardly and your face burns furiously as you hide more in the shadows. “I just… observe is all.”

“Right…” he gives you a disbelieving look, but amusement dances in his eyes. 

“I should probably go.” You point your thumb toward your house, quiet and unlit as everyone inside sleeps. But you hesitate. Like you’re waiting for something, but you aren’t sure what. 

“Okay.” He just watches as you stare back at him, eyes copying his doe eyed ones. They soften once you realize, Eddie just might not make a move because what move is there to make? He probably hadn’t even intended to almost kiss you earlier, only teasing. 

So you climb out of his van slowly, walking backwards a couple steps to realize he’s going to wait until you make it inside. You turn, shoulders falling in confusing disappointment, and you stop. Fuck it, you repeat the nights mantra as you turn back around and move to the drivers side window that he’s rolled down by the time you arrive. 

“Forget something?” He asks in genuine confusion. 

“Forgot to give you my number.” You decide, not sure if you’re bold enough to straight up kiss him. “Got a pen?”

This gets him into action, rummaging around the floor and compartments of his van, returning victoriously with a sharpie. You take it, and don’t even let him try to find something to write on before grabbing his hand, palm up, and writing your home number. 

“Careful calling after six,” you give him a warm smile. “My dad would freak if he heard a boy calling.”

“What do I say, then?”

“The old school project partner trick always works.” You shrug a shoulder, having had a boyfriend or two do that in the past. Not that you had many of them. “I’d just really like to do this again.”

“Me too.” He smiles, genuine and sweet. 

God. Fuck. It. 

You step forward, leaning up against the van door as you push up on your tiptoes and kiss him. He’s surprised at first and it leaves your mouths misaligned but once he relaxes into it, you both readjust perfectly. Your stomach flutters at the softness of his lips and how he holds your head even softer. You pull away, certain you could stay all night if you don’t stop at this moment. 

“So,” you smile sheepishly. “You’ll call?”

“Of fucking course, sweetheart.” 

You honest to god giggle as you head back for your house, only looking over your shoulder once to see Eddie watching you carefully. He seems to soften when you throw another smile his way, finally heading inside. He stays a moment longer, long enough to see your bedroom light turn where you fall into bed, blissed out on one kiss. 

[beskarhearts]

Tangled (Javier Peña x reader)

Pairing: Javier Peña x gn!reader

Word count: over

Warnings: lots of cursing (reader has the mouth of a sailor), a little ~steaminess~, mentions of canon typical violence/getting shot, sexual tension

Summary: You and Peña were no strangers to being at each others throats but this argument went a little different than any other had.

Notes: This was cliche and self indulgent but I loved it and I hope you do too. Let me know your thoughts and opinions!! (also probably not going to turn this into a series but it isn't impossible ig)

________________

You charged towards the file room, feeling every ounce of your body flooded with anger as Murphy trailed after you, pitifully trying the stop the damage that was just about to occur.

"It didn't come from a bad place!"

You sporadically came to a halt, turning on your heels and pointing a finger right in Murphy's face, who had nearly crashed into you at your sudden movement. "Don't you dare try to justify this!"

Murphy's face was crumpled into a hesitant type of acceptance, still following you as you continued walking towards the file room, your anger radiating even in each harsh step you took. Once you reached the door, you slammed it open and nearly crashed it into Murphy as you threw it shut again, your eyes trained on the man you were directing every angry, foul thought at.

"Javier Peña, you fucking asshole!" you yelled, your pointer finger now directed at him as he turned to face you. You felt even angrier when he appeared to look at you tiredly at first, face twisted into an expression that perfectly read 'What now?' It didn't change until he registered your rigid body language and the way your face was a shade darker and your brows that were scrunched up.

Then his face dropped slightly and he looked over your shoulder at Murphy, who looked like a kicked puppy with the way he seemed to cower behind you. "You told her?"

Murphy winced slightly, trying to shrug away his concerns but his voice coming out empathetic. "She kind of interrogated me."

"Yeah. Y'know, because interrogations are part of the job!" you spat, eyes shooting venom at the brown-eyed DEA agent that stood in front of you.

He dropped the file he had held in his hand back in a box, placing his newly unoccupied hands on his hips and sending you a plain look. "Listen, it was nothing-"

"You know what else is part of my job, Peña?" you interrupted, allowing him no room to throw around pitiful remarks and false explanations of why what he did was okay. "Let me tell you since you have clearly forgotten: part of my job is catching the bad guys. Meaning I am fully capable of being on the field and getting my hands dirty!"

You took in a deep breath, your whole body feeling like it was on fire from the rage coursing through your veins. Peña let out a small sigh, rubbing at his face and his mustache as he looked at you through half-lidded eyes. "I know."

You let out an agitated huff, throwing your hands up and looking over at Murphy, as if saying 'get a load of this guy'. You turned back to the DEA agent, clasping your hands together. "Let me get this clear then. You are aware that is part of my job. And that this fucking case has become my whole entire life. Yet you neglect to notify me that tomorrow you are going to arrest one of these motherfuckers and don't put me on the God damn team!"

You probably should of quieted down. Surely people could hear you outside the thin walls of the room you were in but you paid no attention to that. Hell, let them gather outside the door and listen to how much of an asshole Javier fucking Peña was. It wasn't like they hadn't heard you two bicker and yell at each other before - it was practically a daily occurrence. You were always at each others throats and the smallest thing could tick you guys off but today was different. Today your anger was completely justified and directed at the exact right person.

"Why don't we all calm down and talk this over calmly?" Steve gently tried to suggest, always the voice of reason during times like these. Sometimes you would entertain his ideas but today was not one of those days.

"Fuck off, Murphy!" you snapped.

Peña redirected his attention to the blond-haired agent. "Give me a minute."

"Oh, you are going to try to magically explain this one away?" you ridiculed as Murphy left the room quietly, shutting the door gently and leaving you two alone.

Javier looked back at you, looking calm as ever and unaffected in every way. It only made your blood bubble even more and as he spoke, you felt your whole body clench up. "You need to calm down."

You hissed at that comment, literally hissed. "Oh, fuck off! You have no right to tell me to calm down. If somebody did this to you, you'd be tearing into their ass and acting like a bitch."

Javier couldn't argue that point, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that not only was it true, but there was no way he could convince you it wasn't. It also was probably the worst thing to say in this given situation, always was something that tipped you off.

"I mean, the fucking audacity you have is unbelievable. Truly impressive." you started to ramble, still sending a deadly glare his way. "You think you are hot shit because you are Javier Peña and you are a DEA agent and the fucking man whore of Columbia. But I am just as good as you, Peña. Hell, I am probably fucking better!"

"You are right."

You froze as you heard his agreement, biting your lip as you tried to detect whether or not that was meant to be some sarcastic play to rile you up. But it appeared genuine which only confused you further. "Then why am I being excluded from extremely important events?"

"It's dangerous." Peña answered plainly, adding no additional details as if that was enough.

You scoffed, tilting your head at him. "No shit, Peña. No offense but no one becomes a DEA agent because it is a safe, secure job. So that doesn't explain why I wasn't included in this."

Peña shook his head, leaning against the rack of files as he looked back at you. You wanted to force him to look away, his stare making you uncomfortable but there was no way you were backing down. "It does. This one is particularly dangerous and I don't want you involved."

Your eyes widened as you took in this new information. "Oh, so you think I can't handle myself?"

"I never said that-"

"I can handle myself, Peña. I am a fucking adult and not to sound cocky, but a hell of a fucking agent. I am capable and I am strong!"

"I know."

"And I can handle this mission."

"I know."

"Then why the fuck did I have to find out from Murphy that I am not joining you guys tomorrow?" you yelled, feeling your body become slightly fatigued from all the anger but you still stood straight and tall.

"Because you care too much and you'll get yourself killed if that means nailing these guys." Peña said plainly. No hint of emotion or manipulation. Just an honest answer to an honest question.

You found yourself for the first time not feeling angry but slight bamboozled. It felt like the rug had been pulled under your feet. You were standing across fucking Javier Peña, who you were pretty sure had never seen take a single day off. "That is the most hypocritical thing I've ever heard."

Peña nodded. "Okay."

You rolled your eyes, feeling once again angry by the dismissal. "Well fuck off because I spoke to everybody and I am on the team tomorrow."

You began to turn towards the exit when the man firmly stated, "No."

You turned back around, an eyebrow raised. "Excuse the fuck outta me?"

"I'm in charge tomorrow and you aren't on." Peña said, a sliver of annoyance eeking out of his words as he looked back at you with a stern glare.

"Fuck off. If I want to go, I'll go." you fired back, arms crossing over your chest defiantly.

Peña stepped closer to you until he was a couple feet away, his voice lowering to a menacingly deep level. "I don't want you on tomorrow."

Your eyes were practically shooting bullets in his direction. "I know you don't fucking like me Peña, but stop acting like a school boy and get your head out of your ass."

"Maybe you are the one with your head up your ass, agent." Peña cooly said.

You tried to ignore the way he was looking at you (and the way you could smell his aftershave from here) and put your hands on your hips. "Fuck you, Peña. You don't want me on tomorrow because I am a better agent than you, you selfish prick."

"That isn't it." Peña said with a chuckle, shaking his head as if you were saying the stupidest thing he had ever heard.

"It fucking is, isn't it? You don't want me strolling into your operation and doing the job better than you. Can't have your huge fucking ego tarnished by me!"

"That is not the reason why!" Peña shouted back, feeling himself lose his temper slightly.

This was the Peña you were used to, the one you egged on and led into a battle of cruel words and hateful glares. "Oh, fuck off. That is absolutely why!"

"Maybe, just fucking maybe-" Peña cut himself off, his chest now heaving as he copied your pose, hands on his hips and body stood straight.

You couldn't help the small grin that grew on your face. "What is it, Peña? Say it. Don't punk out now when things were just getting interesting."

"You are a child." Peña spat back.

You chuckled harshly. "Look in the mirror before you start throwing insults around, Peña. Now what were you going to say?"

Peña stared back at you, your eyes locked together in a visceral manner. "I don't want you to fucking die."

You couldn't help the throaty laugh that erupted from your very core, your head thrown back as you looked away from him for the first time to try to gather your composure. "Oh, fucking please! Spare me. You have never given a shit for me!"

Peña shook his head, looking slightly deflated as he looked away from you. "Fuck off."

"Oh, don't act like that. I am just supposed to stand here and believe that this whole time you've secretly cared about my safety and you don't have me on the operation tomorrow in order to keep me safe?"

Peña looked back up at you and you nearly wavered from the look in his eyes. You couldn't handle it if it were the truth, which the look he gave you said it was, so you continued on doing what you did best. "I don't need anybody to protect me. Certainly not you, Javier Peña."

"I'm not trying to protect you."

You lifted up a hand emphatically. "So you didn't not put me on this because you don't want me to die?"

"Fucking hell, you are so frustrating." Peña yelled back, face red and eyes throwing daggers as he stepped even closer to you.

You didn't dare take a single step back. You would show no fear or weakness. "And you are such a walk in the park? I forgot about how the man-whore of Columbia was always just a pleasant-"

You were cut off by Peña lunging forward and for a split second you thought 'Oh, shit. I'm gonna have to kick Peña's ass.' That was until you felt a pair of rough, chapped lips press into yours mercilessly and a pair of calloused hands grab at the side of your face.

You stood still for a solid few seconds, your brain seeming to short-circuit until it slowly registered the undeniable truth of the situation: Javier Peña was fucking kissing you.

Well then push him off of you!

Except you didn't. For all intents and purposes, you should have. You should of shoved him off of you, yelled at him for trying to pull his 'sex god' card on you, and maybe even delivered a striking slap to his face, just for dramatic effect. But you didn't. You stood there completely still until eventually your hands reached for the collar of his jacket, roughly pulling him in until he was pressed so tightly to you that you didn't think there was an centimeter of distance between the two of you.

You felt him turn you, pushing you back until your back hit the same file cabinet he had been leaning against earlier. Your lips finally caught up with the rest of you, lips fighting dominantly against each other in a frantic battle. It probably wasn't the prettiest kiss but holy shit, you couldn't think of a time you had been kissed like this. The kiss was so striking but also so passionate, both of you fighting each other in the most deliriously addictive way. You couldn't ignore the smallest voice in the back of your brain asking you why you hadn't done this way earlier.

Eventually your tongues danced against each other, begging for even the smallest taste of each other like you were both addicts craving even the slightest taste from the bottle. His hands drifted away from your face to your hips, clutching them roughly and tightly but not hurting you in any way. Just gripping hard enough for you to feel them and feel the emotion.

Eventually, after what felt simultaneously likes hours but also mere seconds, Peña pulled away and holy fuck, how did he look so good? His lips were puffed and red, slightly wet from the sloppiness of the kiss. His eyes were hooded and looking at you in a way he had before but you had never been able to place, always mistaking the lustiness for hatred (and hold up, had it just been lust this whole time?). His jacket was still clutched tightly in your hands and you should of let go. Anyone could walk in and see him standing up against you on a shelf with your faces red and chests heaving but you couldn't even bother to care, your brain still reeling and your body betraying you, yearning for more.

"I'm going tomorrow." you said, still slightly out of breath.

Peña sighed, his warm breath fanning over you and smelling slightly of mint gum and stale cigarettes. "I know you are."

You nodded, glad to see his slow acceptance creep in. You slowly released the jacket, looking at how it had crinkled from how tightly you had pulled him to you. He backed up slowly, one small step at a time as his eyes still traced each others faces.

Part of you wanted to reach out and kiss him again, fight with him again in the most delicious way but the door opened and you both turned to see the tall, blond-haired agent you had both become closer with than you initially thought possible.

"Have you guys killed each other?" he asked, trying to joke but also hesitant to with how foul your mood had been.

You desperately pulled away from the shelf and shook your head, though not to answer him but in some desperate attempt to try to shake away the evidence of what just happened (despite the fact that it was imprinted on your mind). "No. I'm going tomorrow."

Murphy shared a weary look with Peña who just gave a short nod and began to walk towards the exit. "She comes. If she gets shot, its not my problem."

You and Murphy both watched him slip past, moving out of the room and down the hall, away from you. Murphy twisted his head to look back at you, shaking his head. "Based off his behavior, I'd say that went well." he sarcastically mumbled.

You tried to chuckle but it sounded fake and hollow, your mind too preoccupied. "Yeah. Super well."

Murphy gave a roll of the eyes, used to the two of you being frustrated with the other as he slipped away from the doorway. You followed him as you made your way out of the room, the room where you still comprehend what exactly had happened in it. "You must of really went after each other this time."

You nearly choked at Murphy's quip, your mind taking a moment to realize he was speaking rhetorically about your arguing. He had no way to know the violent dance your lips had done or the way you both had perfectly expressed arousal and hatred with your tongues alone.

You just hummed, pushing past Murphy to head to your desk so you could work and just forget what had happened. Forget it because it meant nothing.

[tonystarktogo]

Could I pretty pretty please get some more on the time travel crack au? Maybe when it gets out that Steve, Bruce, andThor are technically from the future?

As much as I’d love to jump to that part, I think it’s funnier necessary to cover a few other tidbits first. For example:

Tony misses whatever discussion follows Thor’s -- hah, got it right in one, he hasn’t lost his touch completely yet -- arrival before the god carries his brother off towards a containment cell with the sort of cheer that causes Tony to carefully keep at least two people between himself and Thor, lest the asshole tries to hug him again.

Not that it can be that big a loss considering they all -- sans Loki -- end up back in the command center of the helicarrier, where Fury glares balefully at the most recent invader of his precious aircraft that clearly isn’t meant to stand in the way of gods.

A glare Thor aggressively doesn’t notice. Likely because he’s too busy partaking in the on-going discussion on what to do next.

And by ‘what to do next’ Tony doesn’t mean the expected we-were-invaded-by-a-mindcontrolled-alien-nutbag-and-there’s-probably-more-out-there-seems-like-the-kind-of-oh-shit-situation-we-should-plan-for. No. That would be reasonable and expected and Tony’s spent all of three hours in the company of the esteemed Captain America and already he can tell you that Rogers is none of that.

[Which, not cool, Capsicle. Dazzling and befuddling people with crazily brilliant ideas is his job.]

[continues under the cut]

So far, Tony’s been paying attention for ten minutes. In that time, Rogers and Thor have gotten into an argument over how to handle Loki -- which holy shit, that went from a calm, rational discussion to a battle to the death between two superhumans on a sugar high in zero point four seconds -- that Tony is so not gonna touch. [Nope. Let some other fool [i.e. Rogers] throw himself head-first into norse god family drama, Tony’s own feelings concerning his family are complicated enough.] That conversation devolved into a not-openly-fighting-while-totally-fighting stand-off between Rogers and Banner over a way too bitter comment from the latter [something about ‘you’d know all about choosing one brother over the other, wouldn’t you’ which what?], which in turn gets derailed by Banner needling Thor about the merits of beheading over stabbing.

Romanoff had the good sense to disappear -- probably to interrogate Loki while his apparently protective big brother is distracted, now that Tony thinks about it. 

Unfortunately that still leaves Tony stuck here, having to play the role of the mature adult because no one else fucking will. Tony hates being responsible. It’s like being back in high school and being left to do all the work on your own in group project.

[Tony failed that project. Got a straight up zero on purpose because spite is a wonderful motivator. Which, now that Tony thinks about it, doesn’t say anything promising about the current situation.]

Tony leans even further back in his seat, only balancing on the backlegs of the chair, to give Fury a very sharp, very judgemental look.

These are the people you’re betting Earth’s survival on, that look says.

Fury’s already pissed off expression darkens further, which brightens Tony mood substantially. That one of the suit’s sensors flashes green twice in quick succession less than a minute later really just makes for a delicious cherry on the top. Or more precisely a good excuse to ditch this trainwreck of a match-making attempt.

“Whoops,” Tony says, clearly audible but not too loud to draw real attention from the three [still arguing-while-pretending-not-to] stooges on the other end of the room. “Looks like I gotta take this call.”

He jiggles his fingers at Fury. The guy rolls his eyes -- probably jealous that he doesn’t have an excuse himself, that bitch face doesn’t fool Tony -- but no one tries to stop him.

“Alright, J, what do you have for me?”

*

Tony pretends not to notice the shuffling footsteps. Glances at the disturbingly normal clock on the wall that is so not up-to-date with the rest of the technology in the room, it must be an inside joke. Tony would love to meet the SHIELD agent behind it -- it can’t be easy, being the only person with a sense of humor in an entire agency.

30 minutes.

Well. That’s longer than Tony thought he’d get. JARVIS still hasn’t cracked the last layer on SHIELD’s really fucked up dirt -- and given what he’s already found, that says a lot -- but it’s only a matter of time now. Besides, Tony’s got a job to do.

“To- Stark.”

“Rogers.”

Tony doesn’t turn. Neither does he stop typing.

“What are you doing?”

Tony scoffs. He’s not in the mood to pander to inferior minds -- not when they’re so fucking frustrating, don’t make any sense and worst of all make him do all the work. 

“He’s tracking the Tesseract, using the scepter as a point of reference,” Banner says after taking one look at the screen over Tony’s shoulder.

Tony raises his eyebrows, impressed despite himself. Banner’s credentials clearly don’t do him justice -- and they were pretty damn good to begin with.

“Huh,” says Rogers.

Thanks for playing. Now buckle down and make yourself useful or fuck off, Tony wants to snipe but doesn’t get the chance to because the gods -- this god at least -- just aren’t on his side.

“Even without my brother’s help, a weapon of the tesseract’s might should not be underestimated,” Thor speaks up. “Should we not make haste and collect it?”

"Great idea.” Tony’s voice is dryer than the sand dune he crash-landed in back during his fun little trip to Afghanistan. “If only I’d thought of that instead of inventing fifteen new algorithms to try and get a read on SHIELD’s precious magic eight ball while you were busy defending your brother’s honor. Speaking of, I’m pretty sure Romanoff is a greater danger to his virtue than Captain Shockfreeze over there, so why are you still here?”

Okay, maybe poking the hornet nest that is godly family isn’t his smartest move [didn’t he just say he wasn’t gonna touch that?!] but damn if Tony isn’t curious. And also too annoyed to care about unimportant, subjective things like good manners and tact.

He sort of regrets his cavalier attitute a little when Thor sobers. At least there are no tears in sight. Tony is the last person on Earth who should be left unsupervised around crying people. It just never ends well.

“Ah.” Thor sighs heavily, stems his body against an unfortunate table that creaks dangerously. "I’m afraid I can’t afford to see my brother right now.”

It’s the way he says those words, the weight they carry more than anything that tells Tony he needs to drop this issue right now. Talk about one huge trigger button.

Must be inconvenient to have siblings. Tony totally can’t relate.

“Well, in that case, unless you have a magic trick with which you can pull the Tesseract’s position out of your sleeve, how about you sit as far away from these delicate instruments as possible and don’t touch anything while I work my magic, hm?”

Tony doesn’t let his gaze linger on the crushed edge of the table. Thor hasn’t even seemed to notice. He’s too busy lighting up at Tony’s snappish response. Which is surprising. Tony’s aware he’s a bit of an asshole right now. In his defence, he’s an asshole most of the time.

Rogers leaps across the room -- almost crashing into the previously mentioned delicate sensors as he does so -- to slap his palm over Thor’s mouth.

Tony stares. [How quickly can you develop a new habit again? Because this starts to feel like a new habit.]

“That sounds like a great plan!” Rogers beams at him, so wide and fake it must be physically painful for the epitome of all that is good and holy. At least Tony hopes it is. The supersoldier his father worshipped is still clinging to their resident god of thunder’s face.

It’s.

Tony resolutely turns his back on both of them because their madness doesn’t seem to come with a refund-ticket and if Tony doesn’t finish this program, no one will.

Not even Banner -- whom Tony had been kind of hoping for. Speaking of, the man’s been awfully quiet for a while now.

“You alright there, Brucie-Bear?” Tony turns around -- a little because it’s polite to face people when you talk with them and mostly to have an excuse not to watch the ongoing doomed wrestle-match between Blonde 1 and Blonde 2. His awesome nicknaming skill doesn’t get so much as a twitch.

To be fair, Banner is so busy staring straight ahead with the most epic rendition of the World’s Most Thoughtful Expression™ Tony has seen in a while that it doesn’t seem like the man heard him. At all.

Until he suddenly speaks up.

“I think we’ve forgotten something.” Behind Tony the impromptu wrestling comes to a sudden halt.

Probably something negligible like how to focus on a mission, the sarcastic voice in the back of Tony’s mind drawls. Though it should be noted that Tony’s consciousness only comes in sarcastic or not at all. Sorry, everyone, all the other flavors are out.

Banner’s frown deepens. “Something- Something important.”

Right on cue an explosion rocks the aircraft.

*

There’s a bit more tension in this part than the previous ones. On Tony’s side it’s because he’s smart enough to pick up on Something Is Seriously Wrong, both consciously and subconsciously and also because he feels the pressure what with everyone else apparently not taking this whole thing very seriously.

[Excluding Natasha who, believe me, takes Clint’s fate very serious indeed.]

On our time travellers’ side, they experience the frustration of being unable to talk openly, surrounded by people they don’t trust, trying to play along to the script of a movie they watched like 12 years ago and never revisited. Needless to say they’re failing horrenduously.

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

Prompt, Angst, The titan gets badly damaged and a lot of the crew are dead or injured, mariner goes AWOL from the cerritos to find out if boimler is okay and there's a scene with boimler unconscious on a biobed and Mariner is like "you have to live so I can feed you to an armus for leaving the cerritos!"

A/N: you sent this prompt ages ago, but the words just wouldn't happen lmao. So six months late and a few thousand words short, here you go:

ao3

Okay, so here’s the thing.

Beckett keeps files on everyone. Not physical files of course--too insecure and hackable (she should know). But a mental file. Still hackable if she runs into a telepath, but still slightly more secure from the rest of her coworkers.

It’s not as if they’re particularly like. Creepy files. She isn’t snooping into anyone’s actual physical file onboard or obtaining any info illegally. She just observes things and passively marks them for later. Tendi likes peanut-butter sandwiches. Janice gets her neck tattoos re-inked every few months. Captain Mom has a stick up her ass. That kind of thing.

It’s a fine tuned compartmentalization that’s useful in a variety of situations, whether it’s knowing what to say in a social situation or who to trust during a red alert (tip: always go with Rutherford, he’s anxious but the least likely to betray you and throw you out of an airlock. Bonus: he’s the most likely crew member on this trashcan to actually have a working idea).

Some mental files are incredibly detailed. For instance, the one on her mom is about as thick as a handbound copy of War & Peace and just as boring. Everything from her favorite flavor of ice cream to her first response to an emergency situation is in there-incredibly accurate and incredibly detailed. She’s sure her mom has a similar mental file on her as well, but resolutely does Not think about it.

Some mental files are almost empty. Ensign Gent’s toothbrush is pink. First Officer Ransom has nice abs I guess. That dude who’s name I can’t remember opened his third eye and ascended into the afterlife or something I wasn’t actually there Tendi told me and I was on my fourth drink.

And then some are medium sized but entirely unremarkable.

Like Bradward Boimler’s, for instance.

Loves classic rock. Dyes his hair purple. Stickler for rules. Needs to loosen up a bit. A lot. Probably needs to get laid. Definitely needs to get laid.

That’s it, that’s the entire file. Beckett doesn’t really concern herself with whatever’s going on with Boimler beyond the occasional ribbing or co-assignment. It’s not because she doesn’t like the dork. She would tentatively (but never to his face) call him her friend if cornered. And she enjoyed riling him up.

She updates the file about a year (almost two) into her acquaintance with him. FUCKING BACKSTABBING TRAITOR. (That’s it now, that's the entire file.) She doesn’t revisit it again, not for almost eight months, despite Tendi’s cheerful updates on how he’s doing--they’re still in constant contact, despite his ghosting Beckett--and Rutherford’s worried comments on his well-being.

“It’s not our job to babysit him,” she snapped one day. “Hell, it wasn’t our job when he was here. Just let it go.”

And that was the end of that.

______

Okay, that was very much not the end of that.

It starts like this:

“Something’s going on, on the Titan,” Tendi hisses, dropping down into Beckett’s bunk at like 2am. Time doesn’t work the same out here as it does on Beckett’s home planet, but it feels like 2am so she’s calling it 2am. Everyone who’d been on the Alpha shift were pretty much dead to the world anyway, so it might as well have been. The point was, Beckett was sleeping, Tendi should have been sleeping, but instead the two of them are having an anxious stare off in the dark.

And Beckett’s currently having cardiac arrest from being startled so soundly. After her heart starts working again like a human heart is supposed to, the words begin to register. Sort of. “What?”

Tendi flips her padd around. Beckett blinks at the bright light from the screen, squinting to see what’s there.

“Is that morse code? Why the fuck is the Titian using morse code.”

Tendi stares at her unblinkingly, face flat.

Then,

“Oh. Oh shit. Shit!” Beckett sits straight up, throwing the covers off. There’s a few protesting noises and shushes that ensue around the room, but Beckett is already making a blind grab for her pants and shoes. “The fuck didn’t you lead with that?”

“Because people are sleeping,” Tendi whispers. Loudly. She rolls off the bunk and onto the floor, shoes already on. “So we’re going, right?”

“Of course we’re fucking going,” Beckett hisses. “Why wouldn’t-”

“Because you’ve been all hung up over him for the past eight months.”

“He ghosted me!”

“Okay yeah-”

“After accepting a promotion that he promised he wouldn’t-”

“Mariner-”

“He’s a backstabbing, little weasel who climbs over his friends-”

“Is this about that or the fact that you miss him?”

Beckett finishes pulling her shoes on and stands up, scowling. “I don’t miss him. Why are you defending him?”

“I’m pissed too. Don’t get me wrong, when we see him I’m gonna kill him. But I think this is more than that.”

“Whatever.” Beckett turns on her heel. “Are we stealing a shuttle or what?”

“Rutherford’s already on it.” Tendi taps rapidly on her data padd, keeping pace with Beckett’s light job easily. “We were hoping you could like. Let your mom know-”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Beckett pulls out her comm, quickly typing out a quick message to her mother. “This is gonna be a shitshow.” The two of them enter the shuttle bay, which is pretty much deserted due to it being beta-shift.

“I have no idea how we’re even going to sneak onto the planet. It’s been on lockdown since the Titian crashed there.” Tendi’s shoulders slump.

“Leave it to me, I know a guy.”

“Of course you do,” Rutherford says, popping head out the shuttle door. “Good to go?”

Tendi gives him a thumbs up.

Beckett straps herself into a chair, stomach churning. “He’s fine though, right? Like, we would have gotten a call. Who’s his emergency contact anyway?”

Tendi worries her lip between her teeth. “His mom? I don’t know, it never came up and I don’t have access to his file.”

“He wasn’t on the list of deceased. Just the missing persons list,” Rutherford offers helpfully, punching in some coordinates.

“Well that’s reassuring,” Beckett mutters under her breath. She stares down at her comm, stomach churning.

_______

“Seriously, what are the odds of this even happening?” Tendi asks, dragging Rutherford by the arm behind them. A severely concussed, disgruntled Rutherford makes a grunt of what Beckett assumes is agreement.

“Do you really want to be arguing about the odds right now?” Boimler shrieks, sliding to an uncoordinated stop as the four of them run directly into the maze wall.

“Fuck,” Beckett says, eloquently.

“I thought you said you knew which way we were going!” Boimler runs a hand through his wet hair, face going through a series of complicated expressions before settling on frustration.

Beckett crosses her arms. “I did know where we were going. When I had the fucking map!”

“Why are you yelling at me about that? I didn’t even have it!”

“I don’t see anyone else here dumb enough to have lost it.”

“Guys-”

“You were the last person with the map, Mariner.”

“Unless some idiot took it out of my pack when I wasn’t looking.”

“Guys.”

“I didn’t touch your stupid map! Why are you so fixated on this!”

“Because if we had the map, maybe we wouldn’t be about to die via giant space spider!”

“Guys!” Rutherford shouts.

Beckett jumps at the unexpected shout from the usually quiet ensign. She turns on her heel, meeting Tendi and Rutherford’s unimpressed stares.

“Lookie, secret passage.” Rutherford waves a hand to a hole in the wall that hadn’t been there like two seconds ago. “You two good? Can we go?”

Beckett pushes past Boimler, lightly shoulder checking him and jumps through the doorway after her two annoyed friends. She doesn’t listen worriedly to see if Boimler follows her (she doesn’t) and she doesn’t resist the urge to turn around and make sure he’s close.

She balls her hands into tight fists and stomps past Tendi and Rutherford, ignoring the exchanged glances. “Please tell me this is a way out.” Her flat voice has the barest hint of a tremble in it.

You’re losing your touch, Mariner, get it together, she tells herself.

Tendi pulls a lighter out of her back pocket. (Because of course D’Vana Tendi has an old timey lighter on hand. There was a reason Beckett liked her after all.) It takes a couple of flicks, but she manages to get it to catch. The small source of light barely lights up their passageway, but it’s enough to see that it leads deeper into the planet.

“Well, here goes nothing,” Tendi sighs. “I’ll take the lead, I guess. You good, Sam?”

Rutherford grimaces, but nods. “Nothing I can’t handle. Let’s just get out of here.”

_______

It would be Beckett’s luck that she and Bomlier get separated from the other two. And it would just be their luck that there’s a cave in just before they reach the end of the catacombs. And of course, of fucking course, the Cerritos’ ETA on getting them out is anywhere from 2-6 hours, depending on how fast they can get the ship up and running again.

If anyone is using buffer time, Beckett is going to put spiders in their pillowcase.

“This is bullshit,” she mutters, dropping into a seated lotus position. She plays with Tendi’s lighter, flickering it on and off again.

Boimler grimaces from across her. “Can you stop that? It’s giving me a headache.”

Beckett makes steady eye contact again and flicks it off again.

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck yourself. Or whatever,” Beckett mutters. She flicks the lighter back on.

Boimler makes a face like he’s swallowing back a retort. Instead of snapping back, he jams his hands into his pockets. “Can we- can we just talk about it? Like actually talk about it, not passive aggressively pretend like-”

“Like passive aggressively avoiding your best friend’s calls is okay?” Lighter flicks off again. “Yeah, that seems like bitch move, for sure. Glad I don’t know anyone who does that.”

“I’m sorry,” Boimler says into the dark, voice cracking.

“Fuck you.” Beckett flicks the lighter back on. Boimler’s eyes follow it, eyes dilating slightly as the light hits them. She flicks it off again, plunging the cave into darkness again. She flicks it back on. Boimler leans heavily against the cave wall, not looking at her or the light. He starting to look very pale. Paler than usual.

Beckett wonders about that headache.

“How long were you out here before we got your distress signal?” she asks, keeping her eyes glued to the lighter. She sees him shrug in her peripheral.

“Dunno. A while.”

Her stomach tightens. “You didn’t like. See anything weird?”

“You mean besides you and Tendi hauling ass? Not really.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why?”

“What about strange smells-”

“Mariner.”

“You look pale,” she snaps. “And like super clammy. And I’m not talking about your stressed out will Mariner stop talking clammy, I’m talking like I think you inhaled a deadly neurotoxin kind of clammy.”

“I feel fine! Just the headache. Aaand maybe a slight stomach ache,” he adds at her flat expression. “I always have a stomach ache though-”

“-yeah, yeah, it’s the ulcer you’ve had since you were, like, two, you’re a goddamn medical marvel Boims. Budge over.” She shoves the lighter into his hands and grabs his face. “Are you dizzy,” she asks, peering in closely at his pupils.

Boimler tries to shove her away, but she’s stronger and more stubborn. “A little. Look, it’s just the headache and str-”

“Yeah, do you usually get pink eye from stress?” she asks dryly, pulling back to giving him some breathing room.

“I-what.”

“Your white are like. Super inflamed or whatever. Boimler, I think something’s wrong.”

“Shit.” He rubs his temples. “What’s that ETA again?”

“Six hours. Give or take some buffer time.” Mariner stands up. She’s not worried, she’s not. “Maybe you should lie down.”

Boimler glowers at her in the dim light, hands tightly wrapped around her lighter. “I’m fine.”

______

“Good thing you pulled him out when you did,” Dr T’Ana tells Ransom. “Any longer-” she pauses, seeing Beckett’s expression. “Do you want to know what it was?” she asks her.

Beckett, who’s currently white knuckling the back of the plastic chair by the biobed, shakes her head. “Not really,” she replies, stiffly. “Long-term effects?”

“None,” T’Ana replies, scratchy voice almost gentle. Almost. “So feel free to be as hard on him as you want when he wakes up.”

Ransom barks a laugh, clapping Beckett’s shoulder. “Oh, Mariner knows how to be-”

“If you make a single hard joke in my presence, I’m tossing you back onto that planet,” Beckett replies flatly.

Ransom removes his hand. “Right! Right, I’ll just be on my-”

“Out,” T’Ana and Beckett snap.

There’s a pause after the turbolift doors close after Ransom. Dr. T’Ana eyes Beckett warily for a moment. Then, “Call me if he wakes up with any symptoms.”

“You said-”

“Yeah, well. He has a lot of surprises in him, doesn’t he?” She gives Beckett a pointed look before leaving, grumbling down at her clipboard.

Beckett glares down at the unconscious Boimler. “The shit I go through for your dumb ass.” She flops into the uncomfortable chair. “Wake up already. It’s no fun yelling at you like this.”

____

Surprisingly, Beckett does not yell at Boimler when he wakes up. It’s a near thing, though.

“Well, thanks for not letting me die, I guess,” he says, watching her warily after she’s done ranting. Not yelling, ranting.

“I wouldn’t have let you die,” she scoffs. “You’re still my friend, dumbass.”

Boimler perks up in surprise. “What?”

“Look, just because you pulled the ultimate shitty move, doesn’t stop us from being friends. You’re still on notice, though.”

“Right! Right.” He pauses, blinking up at her. “Does it help that I submitted a transfer back to the Cerritos before any of this went down?”

Beckett freezes. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong that was my actual dream job, buuuut-”

“Riker is crazy?” Beckett dryly supplies.

“I thought you were crazy,” Boimler lets out a whooshing breath. “Like I seriously thought you were the most batshit, insane person I’d ever met, hands down. But Riker is certifiable.”

Beckett grins. She can’t suppress it and she’s too tired to try. “So you’re saying I’m preferable.”

“I will take you any day of the week over that.”

“Sounds like a compliment.”

“It is.”

“Hmm.” She eyes him critically.

“Soooo,” he draws out the word. “Am I forgiven?”

Beckett picks his shirt up off the end of the biobed and throws it at his face. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He pulls it over his head, causing his hair to stick up in the back. Beckett suppresses the urge to smooth it down.

“I like watching you squirm,” she replies. “It soothes my massively inflated ego.”

Boimler barks out a laugh, easing himself out of the biobed carefully. Beckett turns to go--he still has to talk with Dr. T’Ana and possibly her mom over the transfer, and give his full report to Riker--but stops as he catches her wrist in one hand.

“Hey. Thanks.”

Beckett’s heartbeat rackets up a few notches. Stop that, she thinks at it and then stops because thinking at your own organs is weird. “Don’t worry about it,” she says, voice even. “You would have done the same for me.”

It’s true. Boimler may be a bit of a bastard and sometimes a shitty friend, but she has no doubt he’d have come running if it’d been the Cerritos accosted.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Sometimes I feel like that’s all I do with you.”

“What?”

He drops his gentle grip on her wrist. “Nothing. Just.” He shrugs, looking cagey. “I know I’ve been a bit of a-”

“Bitch?”

“--yeah, that lately. But. There’s not much I wouldn’t do for you. And that’s why I’m coming back. Because-because you deserve to know that. That you're my best friend, too.”

Her face heats up. “Yeah, well,” she mumbles. “Whatever.” Jams her hands into her pockets. “Don’t think I’m just gonna forget everything because you-”

“Yeah, I know. It’s fine.” He gives her a lopsided smile. “I just thought you should know.”

____

Beckett can feel the blush on her cheekbones until she reaches her bunk. Fuck, she thinks. Fuuuuuck.

She opens up her mental file on Boimler, crossing out whatever she had in there before. Best friend, she replaces it with. Stares at it for a long moment. Erases it. Puts it back.

Bradward “Brad” Boimler. Best friend. Loves classic rock. Dyes his hair purple. Has made some improvements, but still needs to loosen up a bit. Probably needs to get laid. Definitely needs to get laid.

You could help with that.

Best friend. She underlines in the file. You don’t have feelings like that for your friends.

Beckett throws herself into her bunk. She had the horrible, sneaking suspicion that Brad Boimler’s file was about to get a lot longer.

_______

[justice-for-shayla]

Chicken/Egg

A/N: The prompt was Sex before Love and Mutual Pining and I went all the way off. I guess I had something to get off my chest. 

Word Count: 1941 

Warnings: Sexual content, though not graphic, scary academic situations, angst, complete lack of editing,

Tag List: I’m tagging people who liked the prompt ask and some writers I admire in the hopes that people will read this because I’m very proud of it. @sassystrawberryk, @lieblingliebgott, @r-ahh-mi, @rami-hoe, @elliotmercury

Your acquaintance started with crowds.

He was a face you saw in a coffee shop, the only person who was there as often and as long as you were. You spoke for the first time when he came over to your table, awkward as all hell.

“Is someone sitting here?”  

The empty chair in front of you was a challenge. You both . knew perfectly well that you came in here nearly every day and spent hours working on one assignment or another, and no one had ever joined you. You had seen him watching you, and he had seen you watching him right back. The fact that the lunch rush had the place so packed that there really was no option other than for strangers to share was just the thing that finally made it impossible for the two of you to keep ignoring each other.

“No.” 

He shuffled, worrying the strap of his bag. “Can I sit there?” He gestured at the crowd, at all the full tables, at the first dates and business meetings and tired moms catching up.

You nodded and shifted your stuff on the table, allowing him a bit of space. “Sure.”

It took all of three minutes for him to get annoying. He didn’t have to say anything-- people rarely did with you-- it was apparent without words. He typed way to fucking fast.

The stupid clicking was rattling around in your head, driving all the very salient points you’d been trying to put into your essay out of your head. “Could you not?” You snapped after a minute?

“What?” He looked up at you with an expression like you’d yanked him out of a movie theater in the middle of the show.

“The… clicking. It’s annoying.”

He looked at his hands. “Um, sure.”

To his credit, he did try, and you appreciated that, so even when it kept being annoying you didn’t say anything else.

The next time you came in in the middle of the lunch rush, you saw him tucked in the corner like a shadow, and beelined for his table, rather than make eye-contact with the guy who was clearly trying to pack up the nerve to offer you his spare chair.

“Do you mind?” You asked, already putting your stuff down.

He just nodded.

His typing was less annoying today somehow, and you did your work in silence while he did his, neither of you overly concerned with the other’s presence.

Your friendship started with panic.

Sitting with him had become natural, an easy second-best to sitting alone. Neither of you bothered to ask before sitting anymore.

“Morning, Y/N,” He said, surprising you as you sat down.

“You know my name?” You asked, running through your limited conversations trying to remember when you’d told him that.

“Your coffee,” He said, “I noticed it last time.”

You stared at the cup, the barista’s scrawl marking out a slightly misspelled but legible version of your name. “Right.” You looked at his. “Ed? Huh, doesn’t fit somehow. Shit, sorry that was rude.”

“It’s not my real name,” He said casually, not looking up from his screen. “I’m Elliot.”

“You give a fake name when ordering coffee?” You asked.

He looked up at you, his eyes humorless and level. “It’s funny.”

“Right…” With that, you went back to your work.

Two hours later, you fucked something up. Your dissertation, nearly complete, nearly perfect, worth more to you than gold at this point, was gone.

“How? What the…” You searched through all your folders, sure that it had been moved somehow. Sure that this page, which said “File corrupted” in terrifyingly simple text, was somehow not your precious magnum opus. “How?”

Abruptly, your throat is closing and your eyes are filling with tears. “No… No, this can’t be--”

“Are you okay?” You had completely forgotten Elliot, he was so quiet, and in his dark clothes he slipped easily into the background, which is how you thought he wanted it.

You shook your head. “No, I… I did something dumb. I’m not even sure what-- My dissertation is gone.”

There was a small silence while expressions flitted across his face like he was arguing with himself. “Can I see?”

“I doubt there’s anything you can do, see it says that the file is  corrupted. Christ, i don’t even know what that means.”

Those eyes, which you were just now noticing were the most interesting color you’d ever seen, scanned over your screen. “Give me a minute.”

His fingers flitted over your keyboard, typing in languages you couldn’t make sense of. You vowed that if he managed this, you would never be irritated by his typing again.  He was almost exactly right; a little over a minute later he said, “Is this it?”

“Holy Christing Fuck,” You said, staring at your paper, risen from the dead like a sexy intellectual dracula. Unthinkingly, you stood up and moved around the table to wrap your arms around his neck.

He flinched, and you leapt back. “Christ, I’m so sorry. I have no sense of boundaries, I’m so sorry. Just… holy shit, thank you.”

In that moment, you could have kissed him, could have done a great many things to express your gratitude, not that you would have told him that.

“It’s fine,” He said, looking away from you. “Uh, you’re welcome.”

Somehow, that weirdness broke the ice, and after that you talked--Chatted!--whenever you sat together, and he even started walking you home if it got dark while you were there. He never answered when you asked what he was doing, but seeing as he lied about his name for coffee, this didn’t surprise or offend you. He was quirky; you liked that.

Fucking Elliot started because of the heat.

It got hot in New York in the summer, the ugly, sticky, shit-smelling heat that clogged pores and ruined moods. You had turned in your dissertation and were now researching a book, but your days looked the same as they always had. You woke up, you drank coffee, you researched and wrote.

And Elliot was there. Even when the heat got bad, he walked you home and didn’t take off his hoodie. You had kind of started to think about taking it off for him. Weeks and months sitting across from him at those stupid cafe tables had called certain things to your attention. His long fingers, his eyes which were so strangely colored and so fascinatingly keen, his low, steady voice which you were sure sounded amazing when it was gravelly with sex.

You didn’t say anything, remembering your disastrous attempt at hugging him, but at night you fantasized about those hands, those eyes, and that voice.

One day, it all crashed around you, like something out of a movie neither of you would like. He walked you home on a sweaty saturday, where thick clouds hung over the city like wool blankets, making the air soupy and hard to breathe. You were walking, a block away from your apartment when they finally released their burden in a sudden onslaught.

You were soaked through in an instant but you ran anyway and Elliot ran with you, his limbs flying strangely like he’d only heard of running, and was just now trying it out. If you hadn’t been floundering in a rain-soaked white dress you probably would have stopped to laugh at him.

As it was, you both powered to your building door, and strangely, he didn’t stop at the stoop like normal, he followed you up the stairs, right to your door.

His hair was stuck to his forehead, his hoodie sodden and clinging to him, and he was frozen in place staring at you.

What had been loose, flowing white fabric--perfect for the heat--was now transparent and plastered against your skin, highlighting every detail. He licked his lips, paused for a beat, and then put his hands on your shoulders.

“I’m going to kiss you.”

He did, and after a moment of frantic grasping at hair and clothes and keys and doorknobs, you both fell into your apartment and he pressed you against the wall and held you there.

Both of you had to get out of all those wet clothes, the urgency perhaps more extreme because of how much you wanted him inside you in that moment. Your dress fell next to his hoodie, winding around it like a strange, artistic yin-yang sign on the floor, which you barely had time to notice before he brought his lips back to yours and on your neck and then your chest, your nipples.

You had been right about his voice. It had been good before, but low and rough with need and desperation while he thrust into you, it was something else altogether. You wished you could have kept the sound he let out when he came for another rainy day, one when he wasn’t here and you would have to take care of yourself.

After that, you had sex regularly. The heat and the sweat of the New York summer didn’t subside, and the two of you made your apartment that much hotter, but somehow you didn’t mind. Elliot was surprisingly good in bed, and when he wasn’t, he listened and learned well. It was a perfect situation, he wasn’t too much in your life, and you weren’t too much in his, exactly as you wanted it.

Except that you started to talk after you fucked. He told you about his parents and his sister, and you told him about your classmates and your book. You learned that he wanted to help people, that he was lonely most of the time but that he cared deeply about things he would never speak of.

You started to love him because of him.

Because of all that kindness wrapped in all that damage. He was so perfectly your type, and you connected with him better than you had with anyone else, but not on that level. No, Elliot didn’t love you the way you loved him. You watched him become comfortable in your apartment and imagined him moving in, living with you in your shitty overpriced studio. He hadn’t even invited you over to his place.

But he let you in in other ways. He showed you his favorite movies and he would lay down with his head in your lap, no longer skittish about touching you. You let yourself believe that these things meant something, even though there was no way. Distance was what Elliot did best.

Still, you couldn’t pull away from him, not even to save your sorry excuse for a heart. You kept sleeping with him, sharing coffee with him, yearning for him whenever he looked away from you.

It was pathetic, and you couldn’t even really care. You wanted him, and you wished he wanted you. It was classic, the very definition of romance from those books you’d pretentiously enjoyed as a teenager.

For weeks, you assumed it was one-sided, that Elliot would never see this as more than a casual fuck between friends, but it changed rapidly, shifting in an instant just like everything in your relationship had before.

He was dozing off on your chest, laying over you in the slow, heavy moments after a particularly good orgasm when he muttered, quietly but perfectly distinctly in his beautiful voice, “I love you.”

Though you wanted to cry, or to leap out of bed and punch the air, you simply smiled and pressed a kiss against his head in an easy little affectionate gesture you’d been denying yourself. “I love you too.”

[modernshakespearean]

TMNT: Bad Blood Ch 4

Venus

           Casey, April, and I were trotting through the forest path towards the direction of my castle. My thoughts kept drifting towards Leo as urged my horse forward down the path.

           “What was that back there?” Casey asked me.

           “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I said as I urged my horse to go slightly faster.  

           “Don’t give me that. You’ve been dreading the selection for weeks and then suddenly because you see a handsome prince, that you know nothing about by the way, you’re singing a different tune.”

           “I am not!” I argued back at him.

           Casey raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. “Oh really? You’re not thinking about a certain blue-eyed prince. Ever since we met them you haven’t stopped smiling or blushing.” April put in looking smug.

           “Is me smiling really that big of a deal?” I defended knowing that a blush was rising to my face because of their teasing.

           “It’s not. It’s just that…Vee, Casey’s right.” She said as if it pained her to admit that Casey had was right about something.

           “Casey Jones is always right.” Casey remarked. April and I both ignored him.

           “You don’t know anything about Leo. This is the first time you’ve met a handsome prince before. You shouldn’t get too attached.” April said riding next to me so that she could give me a quick one arm hug.

“We don’t want you to get hurt. You heard how he felt about the princess, you.” He said pointing at my chest. “He was insulting you before he even met you.”

“Maybe if he got a chance to met me-the real me- then he’ll look past all the rumors and like me for me.” I said hopefully. Casey and April didn’t share my hopeful expression. “I only get one chance at this. I want to marry for love not power. I don’t want to be trapped in a marriage with someone who only sees me as a pretty face or a crown.” I said looking away mournfully.

“How are you supposed to show him the real you? He didn’t want anything to do with the princess. Besides, who knows how many men will be competing for your attention. It’s not like you’ll be able to be alone with him without someone fighting for you.” April stated sullenly afraid of my reaction.

“You’re right.” I replied dejected. “I can’t spend anytime with him without someone recognizing that I’m the princess. If only I was invisible…” I paused considering the idea.

“Uh, you okay Vee?” April asked nervously. “You only make that face when your planning something.”

“I got it!” I said excitedly startling my friends. “Come on!” I yelled as he urged Picasso to sprint as fast as he could home.

“Got what?” Casey asked confused as he surged after me.

“Guys, wait for me!” April called after us as she tried to catch up.

Finally, we reached the edge of the forest and I could see the stables in the distance. I trotted toward the stable allowing my friends to catch up to me. Once they were caught up, Picasso sprinted towards the stables. I slowed to a stop in front of Pete, the stable boy, who rushed out due to the noise.

           “Princess!” Pete exclaimed in shock and bowed deeply. “What were you doing in the forest?”

           I brushed him off and replied, “Sorry Pete, I can’t talk right now. Could you put our horses in their stalls, please.” I didn’t wait for him to answer as I headed inside the palace.

           “Vee! What’s the rush?” Casey called out while running after me with April trailing behind him.

           “Slow down.” April said panting as she raced after us.

           We made our way into the throne room and we were greeted with my father sitting on his throne. “I did not expect you to be back so soon, My Daughter.”  The King spoke surprised as he looked up from his papers.

           “I know, Father. I-” I started but was cut off when my father took in my appearance. He stood up and stalked towards me.

           “Why are you wearing a soaking wet maid outfit and a cloak?” My father questioned me. I recounted the tale of going into the forest and meeting Leo and his brothers. Dad stayed quiet until I finished my story.

           “Casey, April, I would like to have a talk alone with my daughter.” My father stated coldly to my friends. Casey and April hurried out of the room and shot me sympathetic looks as the shut the doors to the throne room leaving me alone with my father and his guards.

“You directly disobeyed and left the castle! Not only that but you weren’t even properly protected. You did not even take your katana with you. The only protection you had was a general’s son with no weapons.” He lectured enraged. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. “What were you thinking? What would I do if something happened to you? I can’t lose you like I lost your mother.” His eyes softened, and he hugged me tightly to his chest, ignoring my wet clothing.

           “I’m sorry. I just wanted to have a few hours of peace before the selection.” I said returning the hug. “I had an idea about the selection.” I continued pulling out of the hug.”

           My father tilted his head at me and gestured for me to explain.

           “I thought that I could disguise myself as a maid, so I can tell which suitors like me for me and which ones are social climbers. It would also give me a chance to see how the princes will treat each other in the competition.” I explained to my father.

           My father placed a hand on my shoulder and spoke, “I know you are stressed about having to choose a suitor, but you can’t avoid meeting them. How am I to explain to our guests that my daughter, the sole reason they are here, is not present to any activities?” He looked at me with a raised brow.

           “I already thought of that. When I greet them at the opening dinner, I could wear a masquerade mask and a cloak to help obscure my appearance.” I explained.

           “Since this is your selection, I’ll allow it. The members of the Royal Counsel never said you were not allowed to do a masquerade theme. Besides, this helps with your punishment.” My father said mischievously.

           “Punishment? What punishment?” I questioned.

           “For sneaking out. You’re grounded for two weeks and since you’ll be playing the part of a maid, you are to polish all of the weapons and armor in the armory after you are done spying.” I bowed my head and accepted the punishment. It could be worse.

           “I suppose I’ll go change and prepare the dinner in a few hours.” I said turning to exit the throne room.

           “Yes. And I’ll tell make sure the staff is aware that you’ll be acting as a maid and that it is to remain confidential. But first, randori.” He said pulling out the dreaded wooden stick.

           “No!” I screamed in panic as I turned bolting towards the door like my life depended on it.

 Leonardo

We made it to the village without any other incidents. The townspeople didn’t pay us much attention as we made our way through the back alleys to the outskirts of the village. After we passed all signs of civilization, we headed into the woods surrounding the town. A rundown looking gray house covered in vines and other types of vegetation was hidden by the over brush. The house looked as if no one has lived in it for years.

Tiger Claw dismounted from his horse and stalked towards the door that was hanging off its hinges. The door fell to the ground with a large crash.

“Smooth, Slick.” Raph commented dryly as he took in the sight of the fallen door and the cloud of smoke. I smirked and heard Mikey chuckle and Donnie wheeze from laughter. Tiger Claw made a move towards Raph and I was about to move to stop him, but a sharp whistle stopped our advances.

“Are you going to come in or do you two have a grudge match to settle?” Xever asked sarcastically from the doorway. Tiger Claw swiftly turned and marched rather moodily into the house. “And someone fix the door.” Xever added as a second thought.

My brothers and I shared a laugh as we unhooked our bags from our horses. Then, we made our way into the house along with Bradford while Zeck and Steranko stayed behind to try and fix the door. The inside of the house was more expensive than any nobleman’s house I have been to. There was a grand spiral staircase and a golden chandelier. There were no paintings lining the walls.

“This place is more over the top than Visiozo’s Mansion.” Raph murmured as we followed Xever into the dining room.  I had to fight the urge to smile while Mikey wasn’t bothering to hide his laughter.

“Ugh. Don’t even mention that slob, Raph.” Donnie complained.

“If you four are done giggling amongst like chittering maidens, we’d like to discuss how to kidnap the princess.” Tiger Claw said from the head of the table. He was trying to make himself look like a king on a throne. I mentally scoffed not rising to his bait. Raph looked ready to make some biting remark, but I placed my hand on his arm before he could do anything.

Once I was sure he wouldn’t do anything foolish, I released his arm and took a seat at the end of the table. Donnie and Mikey were already seated and Raph did so rather reluctantly with a death glare in Tiger Claw’s direction.

“Xever, since you have been here the longest, what have you gathered on the Hamatos so far?” I asked not missing the glare that Tiger Claw threw at me.

“Well, Hamato Yoshi keeps his daughter under lock and key in the castle. Apparently, she has never even stepped foot outside the palace walls and this selection is the only time she has ever any been introduced to any suitors.” Xever answered.

“We already know that! Do you have anything we can use to capture the princess?” I snapped at him.

“I’m sure our father would like to know that all the money he spent on you has gone to waste. I wonder how he will react when he finds out.” Donnie mused out loud.

“Please don’t tell Master Shredder, Your Highness.” Xever begged to Donnie.

“We will if you don’t have anything useful.” Raph put in enjoying the look of Xever squirming at the thought of how our father would punish him.

Mikey sat beside Raph looking uncomfortable. I hated that father ordered him to come along. I wanted him to keep his innocence and optimistic outlook on the world. Everything we’re about to do goes against what all the heroes in his story books would do.

“Apparently, the princess is hopelessly naïve. She’s just like every other princess out there, all looks no substance. From what I’ve heard, her father didn’t even teach her to fight. She’s too fragile for that, a treasure that must always be protected.” Xever said breaking through my thoughts.  

“Looks? Have you seen her?” I questioned.

“No but the villagers have heard tales of her beauty. Apparently, she looks exactly like the late Queen Shen. She has raven hair, pale skin, red lips, and startling blue eyes.” Xever concluded.

“What about her powers?” I questioned

“Oh those. I’ve heard some stories from the palace about her ability to summon flames and that she can turn anyone into gold. All of it is hear say, I have never gotten close enough to see if it is true. That’s all I know.” Xever answered.

“How’s that supposed to help us?” Bradford growled from his seat beside Tiger Claw. Xever crossed his arms and shrugged in response.

“I have a plan to kidnap the brat. You four” he said while gesturing to my brothers and I, “will compete for the princess’s hand under the guise of children from King Samson.” Tiger Claw stated.

           “I’m not competing for the princess!” I yelled in outrage at him.

           “And I’m not about to masquerade as the son of that cowardly-”

           “Raph.” I warned cutting him off and gesturing in Mikey’s direction, so he wouldn’t say anything inappropriate. Raph crossed his arms and sat moodily in his chair.

“You won’t actually compete for the princess’s hand. We are only using it to get into the castle and get the princess alone.” Tiger Claw paused and regarded me with narrowed eyes and continued, “You aren’t afraid it will upset that little maid of yours, are you?”

“A maid?” Xever asked amused.

“Perhaps we should get back to planning on how to kidnap a princess. I don’t want to stay here any longer than we have to.” I said cutting Tiger Claw or anyone else off from talking about Mei.

“Anyway, masquerading as Samson’s sons is our best bet of getting into the castle. He’s isolated and obscure enough that no one will recognize you, and Master Shredder recently occupied his territory, so we won’t have to worry about him or his children making an appearance.” Tiger Claw explained.

“The other princes shouldn’t get to the castle until nightfall. We can rest and wait for the other princes and nobility to arrive then plan how to get the princess alone from there.” Bradford said.

“Right. Well I’ll show you to your rooms.” Xever said getting and walking out of the dining room. We followed him up the stairs. “You’ll have to share your rooms, you can take your pick just not that room.” He said while gesturing to a room at the end of the hallway and continued, “That’s my room.” With that he walked inside his room and promptly slammed the door.

There were three rooms left. Tiger Claw and Bradford took the closest room and Zeck and Steranko took the one opposite to them.

“Looks like we’re sharing a room. It will be just like when we were kids!” Mikey said with a wide grin on his face.

“You’re still a kid, Mikey.” Donnie said as he ruffled Mikey’s hair.

We walked into the room and surveyed it. There was a couch and a chair surrounding a small. A desk was in the corner of the room devoid of any parchment or ink quills. The bed was smaller than mine at the palace, but it was still large enough to fit two people without being cramped.

“I call the couch.” Raph declared dropping his bag on the floor and throwing himself on the couch.

“I guess I’ll take the chair. You two can have the bed.” I said to Mikey and Donnie. I laid my bag beside the chair and slumped into it. I kicked off my shoes and tried to get comfortable on the old chair. Raph and Mikey were already snoring softly while Donnie was still twisting and turning trying to get comfortable on the bed. I shifted on the chair and tried to clear my mind for sleep to take me. The last conscious thought was the image of the raven-haired maid.

******************************************************************************

           I woke up to the sound of knocking on the door. I jumped up from my chair and rushing to the door. Steranko greeted me as I opened the door. “It’s time.” He said in a thick, barely understandable accent. I nodded my head and then closed the door.

           My brothers were awake by now with varying degrees of alertness. “Come on guys. Time to get dressed.” I said as I dug into my bag to get a new set of clothing that didn’t smell like horses. I donned my signature royal blue tunic and black leggings. My brothers wore identical sets of clothing only in their signature colors. I adjusted my twin katanas on my back and wore a black cloak to hid them. With a nod to my brothers we grabbed our bags and went to go meet the others in the dinning room.

           “Took ya long enough.” Zeck grumbled. He was wearing his usual bright purple attire (not very stealthy for a professional thief if you ask me) with his feet propped up on the table as he ate a sandwich. Steranko was beside him sleeping with his head propped up by his hand. Tiger Claw was sitting at the head of the table (again) sharpening his sword.

           “Where’s Bradford and Xever?” I asked as I surveyed the room and didn’t see them.

           “They went into the village to scout escape routes and guard shifts.” Tiger Claw answered not looking up from his sword. After he was satisfied with his work, he said, “You four are going to go to the palace without us and figure out how to get the princess alone. In the meantime, we’ll be trying to find a way to sneak in without anyone recognizing us.”

           Internally, I cheered that they wouldn’t be stuck with us in the castle. “How will you guys know when captured her?” I questioned.

           Tiger Claw pulled an odd, glowing purple crystal from his pocket. “Stockman used some of the kraang power crystals to create a way to send messages to each other without writing a letter.” He said examining the crystal before tossing it to Donnie.

           “Incredible.” Donnie muttered in a trance as he gently examined the crystal. “How does it work?” He asked holding it up to his face.

           “Flick it to record your message and flick it again to end the recording. After you end the recording it will automatically be sent to my crystal.” He said holding up an identical crystal of his own. “The crystal will glow when you have a new message, just tap it and it will play.” He continued.  

           “Cool.” Mikey said reaching for the crystal.

           “Don’t you dare.” Donnie said pocketing the crystal, so Mikey won’t break it or do who knows what to it. Mikey pouted then smiled mischievously. No doubt he was working out a way to get the crystal.

           “Come on, bros.” I said already walking out of the room. When we exited the house, Raph stalked ahead of me and mounted his horse.

           “Let’s just get this over with, so we can head back home.” Raph said moodily already angling his horse towards the castle. I rolled my eyes and mounted my own horse. Donnie helped Mikey onto the horse and then mounted his own.

[an-exotic-writer]

jungkook; my online sweetheart

❝ who would’ve known that jungkook would fall in love with someone online? and what more when he falls harder when he meets them in person? ►5816 words // scenario, onlinefriends!au, prompt-based ♡ it feels weird writing a scenario after so long but it feels nice being able to write scenarios again! i hope you guys like it! ;w;

Jungkook was a firm believer that one day, everything on the internet could save the world. Then he comes across someone who’s telling him he either has a point or he has his head shoved up in his ass to think such a thing. The conversation sparks off from there, an anonymous chatroom server made for people to ramble on their thoughts and Jungkook finds himself immersed to… ‘therealunknown’. Strange, weird… just the way I like it, Jungkook smirks.

His fingers move to reply whoever who said that to him, that ‘you’re either smart enough to say that or you’re smart enough to think you’re smart enough to say that’. 

Jungkook, or, Jeon97, hits send.

jeon97 [9.31PM]: what? you don’t think the world could be solved with the things on the internet?

therealunknown is typing…

Jungkook waits by the edge of his seat, folded arms in front of the screen as he waits for the three dots hopping turns to stop and dings to a reply for him.

therealunknown [9.32PM]: i mean, there’s just certain things you can’t get on the internet like you do in real life.

Without missing a beat, Jungkook jumps on the bandwagon of curiosity, and partial debate.

jeon97 [9.34PM]: like what??

Jungkook laughs the same time a new text line appears and he’s never sent a friend request so fast in his life.

therealunknown [9.35PM]: pardon my language but pizza and mother fucking fried chicken, my dude.

//

Minutes of waiting by his phone spans out to the hours he’d laugh the more he gets to know of… therealunknown. And when days pass by with familiarity greeting his screen, it soon morphs into a name he can paint the person who somehow connects with him beyond the digital spectrum. How his heart is more than willing to open up to someone thousands of miles away than people he sees every day. Or how his mind is able to tell him that this person who’s replying him as of now, isn’t possibly a serial killer.

When those gathered days turns into months of brutal and honest banter back and forth on how he still is wrong on the first statement he’s said on the first day or how he tells what the unknown claims to be that pizza and chicken isn’t a valid meal unless you want to die early, Jungkook introduces himself as Jungkook and therealunknown… has a name and that is - “Y/N, what’s taking you so long? Stop fixing your bra and just get your damned tea,” Jungkook’s more than just impatient, even tapping his microphone because he knows that makes it echo on the other end that accompanies with your why I oughta!

Crinkled eyes of happiness with a gummy grin is displayed on your screen, past your irritated expression with the rolling of your eyes. Jungkook remains smiling, resting his chin on his arms crossed in front of his screen as he watches you settle down to get comfortable. When you have your cup of tea in possession, warmth pressed to your palms, Jungkook drinks in your smile as you look at his camera window, where his smile illuminates your room.

“How was your day?”

Much more better now, Jungkook chuckles, watching as the crescents in your eyes accompanies the full moon blooming in his heart but chooses to answer with: “Eh, could’ve been worse.”

//

Months gathers in the hands of someone who just wants to be in the present moment with you and Jungkook feels the exact same. Sure, being connected spiritually is ounces better than just a person who’s just existing with you. But there’s just things that you can’t solve with the internet and this is your point why since day one, Jeon Jungkook. 

Said person sighs when he sees you frowning, continuously tapping on your webcam so it makes a thudding sound into his ears.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?”

On any other day, you’d joke about it and poke fun at your own feelings. Today, you’re laying them out flat for Jungkook to feel and he doesn’t know if he’s grateful to know you’re feeling that way or if he feels attacked at how raw and personal your confession is to his own beating like a reminder he’s so far away from you.

“You not being here,”

Jungkook frowns when he sees it on your face and he’s threatened to beat up many, many people who happens to be the cause of it but he would’ve never imagined he would be one of them. He argues in his mind if he should make a joke about banging his face against the wall or doing a somersault in a pool of jello but decides to stay quiet when the both of you let your feelings consume the best of you.

It sucked being able to connect with someone so well despite the distance barrier and it was a bittersweet feeling that clung to your gut with one day, just… not today. But Jungkook wouldn’t have found you intriguing if you let it end on such note. He sits up when he sees a spark of idea flashes in your eyes, displayed in the eagerness of how you put your tea away to straighten your back and stare at him.

“Hey Jeon,”

“Hm?”

“Your break is coming soon, right?”

He laughs first, “Yeah? I mean, a reminder that my finals is literally tomorrow Y/N and I’m here talking to you so what the fuck?”

You roll your eyes, waving a hand to dismiss the fact that he might fail but that usually never happens.

“Shut up and let me get to my point,”

“You’ll literally get everything if I actually shut up,”

You’re grabbing onto your laptop and giving it a shake and it’s scary that Jungkook feels his heart doing the same. He bites down his smile, eyes unable to hide the fact he’s trying not to smile, “Jeon shut the fuck up and let me speak,” 

He snorts, but relents as he lets you say your piece.

Throughout your whole rambling that garners into a solid fool-proof plan of him being able to finally see you, Jungkook gets lost in your enthusiasm and the energy that he feeds off on. His mind goes blank when you ask him what do you think? Gulping, he shifts a little and tries to save his ass but he can’t when you call him out on spacing out and not listening to what you’ve been talking on about. Yet, you don’t get mad.

You show the opposite that strums with his heartstrings he wishes to play them loud and clear for you to hear. He clears his throat and shakes his head when you ask if something’s bothering him. He can’t help but laugh when you roll the sleeves of your hoodie, asking whoever who made him feel this way to square up hoe, I’m more than capable to turn your ass into a McWhopper. When it all dies away with the agreement to make that plan into a reality, half of Jungkook is ecstatic.

The other half, not quite.

But Jungkook still smiles and agrees.

//

“So, you finally meeting your online sweetheart?” Taehyung comes on one end, Jimin coming around the other, ruffling the younger’s hair, “Yeah, shouldn’t you be excited?”

“Piss off…” Jungkook mutters under his breath, holding his phone close to his chest. The two refuse to give up, peering over the younger’s shoulder and proceeds to laugh quietly, letting him have his moment to reply. When he clearly looks more confused than he usually does on a daily basis, ranking up more to when he comes across a maths equation, they decide to step in again.

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Jimin gently pokes Jungkook’s calf with his foot and Taehyung swipes his fingertips on Jungkook’s thigh to mimic the same effect.

Jungkook slides down the sofa until his body meets the floor and his head is the only thing resting on the seat of the sofa, his eyes still glued to the screen as he heaves a deep sigh.

“I don’t know what to do,”

Jimin and Taehyung exchange glances before coming to the centre, staring at Jungkook’s phone. It displays his flight time and destination, which is the same country they’ve heard where you’ll be (plus, they’ve met you a couple of times when they crash Jungkook’s place and he refuses to give up his skype sessions with you just because they come over, thus, it leads to Jungkook fighting to the death to get your attention). Then a ding signals a message from you that make Jimin and Taehyung repel away to make it seem like they haven’t been buzzing around like busybodies.

Jungkook knows better of them than he knows himself, groaning and threatening to throw his phone across the room.

“Hyung…!”

Taehyung pokes Jimin’s arm.

“You’re the oldest,”

Jimin scoffs.

“Your name consists of half of what he just said,”

“You suck so much on a different level,”

“You suck period,”

“Hyung,” Jungkook is now facing the both of them, hunching over the sofa with his arms stretched out until it meets the back of the cushions. The two older ones take a glance at Jungkook’s phone, which now shows what he’s been going on about in a mental battle on his own.

Y/N: i can’t wait to see you ajskdhkdfhsodijsdfksdf

Y/N: i can finally put you in a headlock and make you buy me food 😗

Jimin thumps the back of Taehyung’s head.

“Say something,”

Taehyung smacks Jimin’s arm, “You say something!”

“What do I say?” Jungkook whines, burying his face in the sofa. When the two of them decide to drop their facade to help this helpless… pup, Jimin’s the first one taking the step towards actually trying.

“Well… what’s the problem?”

“The problem is,” Jungkook lifts his head up, chin digging into the cushion as he hopelessly reads your text over and over again to admit that - “I like her,”

“Well I can only imagine what it would be like if you didn’t and you still bought a plane ticket to see her,”

Jimin and Jungkook on cue, synchronize to look at Taehyung, who now wants to throw himself out the nearest window.

“Sorry, too soon?”

Jungkook ignores him, only looking at Jimin.

“Well, shouldn’t you be happy, then? You’re finally meeting someone you’ve been liking for so long,”

“That’s the problem,” Jungkook huffs, letting go of his phone, “I don’t think I should be…”

Taehyung tries to redeem himself, pushing forward to question: “Why shouldn’t you?”

Jungkook’s mouth opens and closes, trying to explain his reasoning but felt like he can’t lift the weight of his shoulders now. When his phone vibrates to a call from you, he refuses to answer… any of them as he grabs his phone and heads to his room to talk to you privately.

Jimin’s about to get up and talk some sense into the kid, only for the other kid to grab onto Jimin, tug him down to make use of Jungkook’s game console.

“Not our business,” Taehyung then passes Jimin a controller, “Stay out of it.”

//

have you ever thought what if we meet and we actually hate each other?

Jungkook hesitates on pressing send, but in the midst of thinking on whether he should, his thumb refuses to listen to what he has to say before he realizes it - “Shit,”

He can now only wait for a reply, cuddled up in his blanket as he leans to his side. His phone screen is the only source of light in the dark of his room. His breathing pattern stutters when he sees Y/N is typing…

Clearing his throat, he expects the worst, like well then, maybe we weren’t meant to be friends or that sucks, lol. But what appears are the words that make his heart flutter.

Y/N: at least you’re good looking 😛

Somehow you always reel him back to what he intends to say, his finger tapping on the emoji button to reply you with: ‘🙄’.

Y/N: HAHAHA i’m kidding jeez

Y/N: i doubt it, really

Y/N: i mean you saw me crying because i dropped my hotdog when i facetimed you walking to class and it was hilarious to see you trying to keep a straight face talking about your deepest fears so

Y/N: at this point we’re married without each other knowing

Y/N: and it other words i mean we’ll be fine

Y/N: did i help or did i fuck it up even more lol

While Jungkook feels part of the weight being lifted off, it seems to have sunk down even more. It was a weird feeling to describe, but he just… can’t. Instead he shuts it out and decides to sleep on it, only after replying you to make sure you’re not on the other side worrying.

it helped a lot Y/N. goodnight. sweet dreams. 😌

Remember when Jungkook had half of him being happy now that he’s able to see you and the other half remained unknown? Well… linking back to what the unknown on the first day, that’s exactly what it is. The unknown was you and when it became known, Jungkook wishes he didn’t know that he was capable to develop feelings for someone he didn’t know he should be. When all he sees are hearts being sent as a reply, he sets his phone off to his nightstand. It eases him to sleep… but also keeps him awake.

//

D-Day arrives when Jungkook steps out of the airplane and he’s walking out of the terminal with him hoping he left his heart behind because he doesn’t have time for this shit. This shit being how it beats way too fucking fast for his liking when he knows for a fact that the whole world could hear it thrashing from left to right, out of his chest and he wants to grab it and swallow it down. Nervousness tips his fingers as he taps them against his thigh, his other gripping onto his bag as he waits by the side.

Then his phone vibrates and he pulls it out to let his smile fade.

Y/N: my dude

Y/N: i think

Y/N: i see you

If ever Jungkook dies from a horror movie, these exact three texts would be the reason why. His breath gets stuck in his throat, unwilling to push down into his lungs to breathe when his lungs have that sole purpose to be in his body. He tightens his grip onto his suitcase, managing to type with one hand.

i swear to god, y/n. i’m going to kick your ass when i see you

where the hell are you??

He doesn’t know if his mind is cruel enough to let him picture your smile or if it’s trying to calm him down by ringing your laugh in his head. He unintentionally smiles at that one time you tripped over the cable cord and flat out fell to the ground, only to laugh your butt off and Jungkook remembers how hard it was to stop laughing that night. But reality comes smacking Jungkook in the face when he realizes it’s… not in his figment of memory.

It confirms with two taps on his shoulder and Jungkook is finally afraid of one thing more besides the fact that the existence of fried chicken could come to an end. He robotically turns around and gapes at the presence of someone that fills up his lonely nights and the screen of his computer and phone, to a real life human being standing before him.

And they’re fucking beautiful.

Way more beautiful than Jungkook had imagined past sleepless nights and insomnia sweeping him in the arms of the moonlight of possibilities of what if’s. Jungkook swallows and shoves his phone away before he drops it, blinking a couple of times to make sure this isn’t a dream. But his body confirms it with the hours of flight draining his body, with the surge of newfound energy in the irises of your eyes.

“Hi, Jungkook,”

He doesn’t know if it’s because it’s so surreal that you’re standing here before him that he has to reach out and poke your forehead. The weird thing about is that you actually allow it and laugh at the look of disbelief on his face. As if he expects you to disperse with the wind at a single touch. When Jungkook let’s this moment sink into his bones, he unknowingly mumbles well fuck me dude when you don’t. He leans back with a deep exhale, still surprised you’re actually here.

You’re making it far worse with laughing, his heart threatening to fly out of his ribcage at the allowance to hearing your voice when he fell asleep to it merely nights before.

“Is this usually how you greet someone or is it just me?”

Jungkook is amazed at how he’s able to answer despite his tongue turning numb.

“J-Just you,” With a nervous chuckle, of course.

“Well I’m very flattered, then,” Your put your hand out with a smile tipping up Jungkook’s very own, “I’m Y/N,”

For a split moment, Jungkook thinks he actually forgot what his name was. Unable to reply fast enough to make it look like he didn’t forget, he intends to say his name but messes up with, “I-I’m know,”

Your hand slips into his for a firm shake, and you not only make Jungkook’s heart fly to the heaven’s but drop back to earth with: “Nice to meet you, Know. Do you know where Jungkook is?”

“I swear to god, and I swear it true, I can finally kick your ass in person,”

Snickering, you let go of his hand and spread your arms out. He looks confused, but understands what you mean when you point to yourself like it’s a silent note of hug me you idiot. Jungkook gulps and feels his whole body freezing when all he wants to do is enter your embrace. Guilt hangs on his shoulders when he knows he won’t hug you with the same mentality you do for him but it ebbs away when your face morphs into one he’s seen when you get pouty.

“C’mon, I can’t possibly steal all your organs with a hug,”

He manages to laugh, shaking his head with folded arms, “What makes you think I can’t?”

“Oh? So you waited two years before you can finally steal my organs? Your buyer must be cursing you in hell, dude,”

Jungkook shakes his head at the reminder of why he’s friends with you in the first place. Being on the same wavelength with the humor that matches to not label the two of you as scums of the earth for such darkness to joke on, Jungkook unfolds his arms when you wiggle your fingers, grinning at him.

“It’s just one hug, Mr. Know. What’s it gonna hurt?”

He’s about to joke on something, but he’s certain it’s not the right time or place for it. Instead, he steps forward and closes the distance to put his arms around you. He can feel your smile breathing out onto his skin when your face presses to his chest. He rests his chin on top of your head, past nights of imagining doing it and he squeezes you tight.

“It’s Mr. Jeon, stupid,”

“I know, Mr. Know,”

You can hear him smiling, even if he wants to sound offended.

“I’m going to kick your ass now,”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

//

The other ways come to when Jungkook’s able to be a part of your daily life. Of course, only after he confirms to Taehyung and Jimin that I’m alive, don’t worry and he doesn’t bother replying them of the details apart from the fact that if he doesn’t reply by the end of the day, send help. But that doesn’t reach to that point when Jungkook trusts that he’s in safe hands when he admits that he’s doing what you’re doing too. 

So, as it turns out, the both of you click off much more better than he had imagined. Picturing the scenario of an awkward silence where none of you are able to talk, it turns out the two of you can’t stop. To being told to keep it down when you’re far too noisy in the coffeeshop he’s seen as a backdrop to your calls on most of your Wednesdays, to sitting at a park bench to talk to your hearts content and making fun of each other for possibly making the baby from a distance cry.

It progresses further to walking down the sidewalk and living in the moment together. Eating from the same hotdog stand he saw you dropping yours in front of in camera and he still remembers how you almost cried. To you sharing one of the places you find solace that Jungkook appreciates you allowing him to be in with you. On top of the rooftop where the two of you sit and appreciate the night view, Jungkook can’t believe this is truly happening… and that it could disappear as soon as he blinks his eyes.

So he turns and faces you, watching your side profile as you then lean towards the side and rest your head against his shoulder. His heart elevates with the weight that he still carries around and guilt, pounding his chest as he watches you get comfortable with him. Pushing his feelings aside once more, Jungkook closes his eyes and moves his head to rest on yours, just indulging in the present and muting out the voices in his head at the sounds of your breathing.

It went further to the point where he takes a visit to the club that you still manage to send photos when you’re down on a Friday night. Then to eating breakfast at a diner he’s seen many Snaptchat stories of, including that one time you spilt your chocolate milkshake and you deem yourself to be the unluckiest person in the world and he promises you he’ll buy you one. There, now, here, he manages to keep that promise. It became a collection of memories, bitesized pieces to the whole firsts together locked in your camera rolls. Jungkook hasn’t left anywhere without his camera, refusing to let go of it to document everything and anything.

Everything moves by like a slow motion film, filtered like in the 80′s because he feels like that’s when true love seems to blossom into his life on the movie screen and he remembers feeling his heart flutter the same as when he first digested the meaning of love.

He’s unable to let it process that all of this could possibly come to an end when he leaves and he’ll have to accept the fact that all this while, he hasn’t been truthful with you. It bites the back of his mind even when he’s sleeping in your sofa at night. He went so far to let himself be vulnerable around you, down to the core to admit the things that keeps him up at night except for one, the one he’s talking to.

Which is why one day before his flight departs back to where he came from, he sits quietly in one of your beanbags. Sinking in, he watches as you get ready to leave for a quick meet up with a friend who desperately needs you to return something and he - by all means - understands. He bids you goodbye and promises he’ll be here without making much of a mess when you return… only to keep half of the promise.

Well, he did create a small tornado recreation in your living room but he cleaned everything up.

Leaving a letter and a purchased ticket back home a day earlier.

//

“Jeon! I’m back! We can finally go watch that Star Wars movie you’ve been mumbling in your sleep about!”

You close the door behind you, weirded out when everything is spotless.

“Jeon?” You’re entering your own home, yet, it doesn’t feel like it’s yours anymore. Something about it is different. For one, it’s all spotless. Except the note that is left on your sofa. Picking it up, you glance around to note that Jungkook’s bags are gone and it’s hard to put the pieces of where he could’ve gone.

Doing what any reasonable person would, you unfold the letter to read it.

‘Y/N… I’m a dick. I’ll say that first before you do so that when you get mad, at least you know that I thought of myself the same. I’m leaving a day early, I bought my ticket already. Here’s the money for what you paid on my ticket back tomorrow.

Now you’re wondering why I’m doing this but… I’ve been feeling guilty all this while. And I can’t bring myself to tell you about it and I didn’t want you to worry if you actually knew so please, don’t worry about it. I’ll let you know when I reach back home. Thank you for giving me such a great time and being so welcoming throughout these few days. Plus, I can’t bear to see you cry. You look ugly when you cry. So don’t.

Love you.

Jeon.’

The next, you’re out of the door with the letter in your hands, money forgotten on the floor when that’s the last thing on your mind.

//

Jungkook inhales and exhales as he stares at the trees in front of him sway like there’s nothing in the world to bother them. Apart from the exhaust fumes slowly killing them because honestly, same. Jungkook goes through his camera pictures and hates how that every single one of them makes him smile, because they all have you in them. Even when you’re not physically in them, it all reminds him of you and it makes his heart race like they ran across the whole globe just to experience this. His fingers linger the delete button, that haunts him to erase everything like his feelings but fails to do so when his phone rings.

He switches his camera off and sets it to the side, pulling out his phone where his eyes widen at the caller ID.

Right, he’s still in the vicinity of being able to be contacted. Your name flashes on the screen and his thumb hovers over declining the call. Before he can do so, or make the choice, the voice that echoes far from his mind snaps him to look over his shoulder.

“You better not have declined my call or I’m going to kick your ass, Jeon,”

Jungkook faces forward and blinks hard, wishing that this is just a part of his mind playing cruel jokes on himself but when he feels a smack at the back of his head, he stands and turns around, coming face to face with something much more cruel than his imagination. Here you stand in front of him, with a piece of paper he poured his emotions out onto in his own handwriting and Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek.

“What the hell is this? Why are you leaving a day early? What are you so afraid of telling me that it could be worse than that time you kicked a kid into a swimming pool?”

Jungkook snorts.

“You’re not supposed to laugh! This is serious!”

You walk around the bench to get to where he is and you grab him by the collar to make him face you. It might look amusing to the people who has no context whatsoever to the situation but you’re fuming. You lift up the note and wave it in front of his face, before he locks eyes with you, hands fiddling by his sides.

“Answer me. What’s going on? Or what did I do that made you do what you did? Was it something I said or-”

“It’s none of that,” Jungkook carefully answers, gently reaching out to peel the note from your hands and you watch him… uncertain. It’s bugging you that he still doesn’t choose to answer but at the very least, he seems like he’s about to open up to answer you. Quietly, you wait for an answer and it appears to be coming. Slowly. Like the ripples from the water slowly revealing to be the waves crashing to shore.

He rereads the note he’s written to you, as if it didn’t take up all the ounce of courage he has to write it into words for you to understand yet… not, at the same time. He folds the letter and uses it as a tool to get rid of his nervousness, but it’s not working when the tapping of your feet seems to taunt the metronome in his heart moving too fast for it to be in the right pace. He pushes down the anxiety bubbling up, deciding to just get it done and over with.

After all, if it all goes wrong, he’s alone here in the park with you and he’ll be leaving later in the evening.

Let’s just… get it done.

Jungkook forces his lungs to take in some air, brewing the words hanging at the tip of his tongue to exhale out the syllables that rock against your chest.

“I like you, Y/N,” Jungkook hangs his head low, as if he’s ashamed to admit that, “Very much.” He can tell you’re confused, based on how you let out a sound that tells him so. So he tells you why. “Because it feels wrong. I feel like I haven’t been truthful with you about this when I should have and I wasn’t sure how you would feel about this so I didn’t tell you about it,”

Jungkook feels his heart crumbling when his body betrays him, the tears pooling in his eyes like the emotions he’s pouring out to his feet. He sniffs, trying to suck them back in because bitch, not now, don’t you fucking dare I’m almost done. He lets out a shaky breath and crushes the note, trying to destroy something to boost his strength.

“And I felt so guilty because we tell each other everything and yet I couldn’t tell you this. I didn’t want you to feel obligated to feel the same so I thought…” Jungkook finally has the balls to look at you past the blurriness of his sight. Hotness streams down his cheeks when he blinks his feelings away, trying to think of a joke to fill in the void between the pair of you but before he can do so, all air is lunged out of his chest when… when…

Jungkook grows wide eyed when he sees you so up close, lips buzzing with his feelings combusting into his wishes coming to life. It happens again when your hands cup his cheeks, pulling him down to meet with your lips halfway and Jungkook’s hands are trembling as they meet with your waist. You encourage him to do it, one of your hands slipping from his face to overlap with one of his by your side and he grips onto you tight. His arms slide over, banding your waist as if you’re going to disappear like his hopes and he kisses you hard. He kisses you with the nights that keeps him awake when your smile replaces the moon in the sky. He kisses you like you’re the only thing that matters to him and he kisses you, you and only you.

And only you push him back but not too much so you can glare at him.

“I’m mad at you, by the way,”

Jungkook’s mouth hangs open.

“W-What?”

“I’ll admit, it’s scary to be in your position but what about me? You were going to leave just like that?”

Jungkook tightens his hold on you, frowning with the creases lining his forehead.

“I was scared! What if you didn’t feel the same or-”

“I do! Why else did you think I even allowed you to sleep on my sofa? I’ll have you know, that’s my favorite sofa,”

He laughs, a bit too hard for your liking that it makes you snap. Because it makes you smile.

“That’s your only sofa, Y/N,”

“Same thing!”

The two of you are still on the shallow ends of revealing to one another your true feelings. So to make up for Jungkook’s courage, you return it with your arms around his neck and a peck to his lips, for your own to whisper on them after: “I like you, Jungkook,”

Jungkook’s smiling so wide his cheeks are starting to hurt. But what hurts even more is that you’re so pretty it’s actually painful. He rests his forehead against yours and his grip is iron-like, unwilling to let go as he sways the pair of you from left to right like two infatuated hearts linking together closer than before across thousands of miles apart.

Now too close to even break away.

“You’re a beautiful person, Y/N.”

Jungkook seals it with a kiss the same time you understand what he means. In the moment, all you can feel his feelings being portrayed against your lips but at the back of your mind, the meaning of his words make your heart swell. 

“Instead of saying I like you to someone I like, I’ll tell them they’re beautiful,”

You find it amusing, but it is interesting. Because you out of all people would’ve thought he would resort to just saying: “Hey, I like your face. Let’s date,” but it seems to be the opposite here. More refined than you had imagined. Leaning forward, closer to your computer, you question: “Why?”

“Because, I don’t want to tell them that I like them as it is. I want them to know that I think that they’re beautiful person inside out. That I like them beyond the surface. It’s like, I like you but… I like the fact that you’re a beautiful person on your own and I like you,”

“That sounds like bullshit. Romantic bullshit,”

“Eh, someday, someone’s going to love this romantic bullshit.”

Who would’ve known that it would’ve been you?

((”jeon,” you’re trying to talk to him, but he whines and complains that he’s not done kissing you yet and you tell him he can kiss you all he wants only after you make one thing clear. he stops and huffs, loosening his arms around you ever so slightly and he sits up a little on the sofa and raises his brow.

“what is it?”

“i’m cancelling your flight,”

jungkook didn’t know he can smile harder than this.

“i wouldn’t have it any other way.”))