#i think the show usually avoids repeating names no? even for patients...but i might be wrong

[unplanned-parenthood]

if i had a nickel every time house md has repeated a name that belongs to a main characters sibling id have two nickels. which isnt much but it's weird it has happened twice

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

Foxtrot Alpha Alpha - Chapter 29

Pairing: Hangman x Female OC

Word Count: 2803

Warnings: Talk of death

Summary: Hangman learned his lesson a long time ago to never show his true feelings when someone's words or actions hurt him. To do so showed weakness that could be exploited, and Seresin men couldn't show weakness. Of course, there was an exception to every rule, and Jake's always came in the form of women, three in particular: his mom, Juliette Kazansky, and the girl whose name he could no longer bring himself to speak. She was the girl that got away; she was his biggest 'what if' and his biggest regret; she would forever be the ghost that haunted his dreams. Jake believed that's where she'd stay, for he would surely never see her again after what he did.

Or so he thought.

Notes: This is the sequel to India Lima Yankee; I'm using the same callsign for the Female OC as in Ghost Story because I just really like it, but they are different characters; chapters in italics are flashbacks.

Chapter Songs: Forever and Always Peter Pan

****

Ghost

A pounding headache- stemming from her periodic sob sessions every couple of hours- kept the female aviator up most of the night. Even the ibuprofen she'd found in the kitchen at two in the morning barely dulled the pain, so Ghost turned off the alarm she'd set and suffered in silence, only rousing from her bed again at the sound of shuffling and a voice from somewhere within the house. She peeked into the hallway. No one there. She followed the noises to the kitchen and discovered Maverick on the phone; judging by the expression he wore, it wasn't necessarily the best conversation.

Ghost attempted to sneak away to give him privacy, but Maverick turned around just in time to see her. He smiled and bid goodbye to whoever he spoke to before hanging up and saying, "Morning. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, sir. I've been up. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, just got off the phone with Rooster. He said Jules had a bad night. After the hurling stopped, the nausea stayed, so they've barely gotten any sleep. He's trying to convince her to go to the doctor, but she's staying firm and-"

"Not going?" Ghost finished, nodding understandingly. "She's got her dad's stubbornness."

"Tell me about it," Maverick agreed with a chuckle. "Would you like any tea? I'm making some before I head to the hangar."

"The hangar?" Ghost repeated, tilting her head in curiosity.

"I own a hangar and plane out in the desert. Plane's due for some maintenance. I'd invite you to come with me, but I might have my head ripped off by Juliette if I take you to the hangar instead of having you go to her place. Rooster might also lose his head by spontaneous combustion if you don't calm him down. Usually, Jules can, but since she's the source of his stress at the moment-"

"Say no more. I'll need to head to my place first because I have to take care of a few things, and then I'll head over there."

"Rooster and I, and our heads, appreciate it. Let me finish up our tea, and then I can drive you over whenever you're ready."

"I can take an Uber. I don't want to delay you from going to the hangar."

Maverick waved a dismissive hand. "I'll get there when I get there."

Ghost nodded and sat at the table, patiently waiting for the tea. She wondered what to say to avoid the awkward silence settling over them, but he beat her to the punch. "Why were you awake so early?"

Ghost shrugged nonchalantly and said, "Couldn't stop thinking of my dad and my fight with Hangman. The little sleep I did get was sporadic. It'll probably be like this for a few weeks, but I'll be fine. I always am. Nothing some ice cream and wine can't fix."

At that, Maverick laughed. "No wonder you and Juliette get along so well. She says the same thing."

"I'm honestly not sure which of us said it first, but it's always stuck. I know she's looking forward to being able to have a drink again." 

"Speaking of drinks, our tea is ready," Maverick said. "Do you want to drink it here, or do you want a to-go cup?"

"I'll take a to-go cup. That way, we can drink it in the car."

Something flashed in his green eyes, and unless Ghost was mistaken, she recognized it as disappointment. A pang of guilt struck her heart, but as much as she wanted to stay and talk to the captain, Ghost had things she needed to do. She grabbed her clothes from the night prior- now in a plastic bag for easy carry- and her purse before following Maverick out the door with her tea in hand. Ghost assumed they were heading to the Jeep but found herself pleasantly surprised when led to a motorcycle instead.

"That's a Kawasaki Ninja H2," Ghost observed with wide eyes.

Maverick grinned. "Unfortunately, it won't hold our drinks. Otherwise, we could take it. But when I return, you can take it for a spin."

"I can- you would-" Ghost sputtered in disbelief. "All right, but only if you take my Ninja ZX-4R for a spin so we can compare notes on the two."

"I knew you had a motorcycle, but I didn't realize it was a Kawasaki, too," Maverick said, his turn to be shocked.

"Yes, sir. My mom always had a soft spot for them, and it seems that trait passed to me."

"It's a deal then." Maverick grabbed a set of keys from a board in the back of the garage before heading to the Jeep. Ghost followed, but her gaze kept returning to the motorcycle until it was no longer visible. 

They arrived at her apartment too quickly, and while Ghost put on a brave face for Maverick, her heart sank to her stomach at the thought of being alone again. He must've picked up on her hesitance because he said, "If you need anything, anything at all, give me a call, okay?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you for everything. It... it really turned my night around," Ghost confessed, opening the car door. She grabbed her things and bid the Captain goodbye. As she started walking away, Ghost turned on her heel and asked, "I hate to ask this of you, but would you be able to swing by Hangman's and check on him? And let me know if he's okay?"

"Of course." No hesitation. No questions. An indisputable amount of love and respect for him filled Ghost in that moment. Relieved, she told him graciously, "Thank you, Maverick."

Then Ghost went to her apartment. The Captain refused to drive off until he saw her safely inside. Ghost set down her stuff and turned on a light, staring at the immaculate space, save for the mugs residing at her kitchen sink, the only evidence two people had been here last instead of the standard one.

"I should've asked Mav to stay," Ghost mumbled to herself, shuffling to her bedroom. She plugged her phone into its charger and collapsed on her bed, texting Juliette and Rooster that she'd be over later after she got some stuff done at her apartment. Then she texted Jackie, asking her to call as soon as she was willing and able. Lastly, Ghost waited for Maverick to let her know about Hangman. He lived close by, so the response would come relatively quickly, but the ten minutes that dragged by were some of the longest in Ghost's life.

When her phone buzzed with an incoming message, she swiftly opened it to see who it was. The good news: it was Maverick. The bad news: he informed her he hadn't been able to get ahold of Hangman. Ghost sent off a "thank you" and groaned in dismay. Was Jake okay? Where was he?

Ghost's finger hovered over the call button for Hangman, a hairs' breadth away. She could try calling him, but most likely, he wouldn't answer. Besides, Ghost had given him such a final goodbye...

She exited out of the conversation and went to her contacts, calling someone else who could help. Someone who knew Hangman like the back of their hand.

"Hey, what's up?" Coyote answered on the third ring.

"Hey, where are you?"

"At the gym. Why?"

"When you get a chance, can you check on Jake? It's a long story, but-"

"I already know," Coyote said gently. "He didn't tell me much, but I can tell it's bad."

"How did you-"

"Juliette texted me last night. Not long after the fight happened, I think. Asked me to check on him."

For the second time in less than an hour, a pang of guilt struck Ghost's heart, much stronger and more brutal this time. Hangman had sent Juliette to check on Ghost immediately after the fight. Meanwhile, Ghost had waited until she couldn't bear the silence of her solitude- 12 hours later- to do the same, even after witnessing the pain in Hangman's eyes. She'd been so selfish in her pain...

"He's doing okay," Coyote continued, "if not a little more broody and quiet. Whatever he's feeling, he's taking it out on the poor punching bag. He's going to Captain America that thing if he keeps at it. How are you doing?"

"Had better days," she admitted, rubbing a stray tear off her cheek. 

"I'm sure. And Ghost, I'm really sorry about your dad. Hangman told me that's why y'all disappeared for a few days."

Another tear rolled down her cheek, and Ghost struggled to keep her voice steady. "Thanks, Javy. It was- it was really unexpected, but I'm glad I had Jake there. I know things went to shit last night, but I'm still glad he was there with me."

"I haven't told anyone else. Figured you'd tell them when you were ready." "I appreciate it. If they ask, you can tell them, but I won't bring it up unless they ask. Not sure how I'd bring it up in normal conversation anyways." 

"I get it," he said. Coyote started to say something else, stopped, then quietly asked, "Do you think y'all can come back from this?"

"I don't know," Ghost said, her voice cracking. "He won't tell me what I need to know so I can at least understand why he did what he did, and I can't figure out why. I keep thinking it's something I did-"

"It's not. That much, I'm positive about. Jake was screwed up after Ghoul's death. I mean, we all were, but he-" Coyote searched for the right words- "he was really messed up from it. I could never figure out how badly, just that it took a good year to get back a semblance of the Jake I knew before it."

"I wish he'd talk to me about it. If it gets the burden of whatever guilt he's carrying off his shoulders-"

"It'll happen. One day, it will."

"Hopefully sooner rather than later. If life's taught me anything lately, it's that you never know what tomorrow will bring, and God forbid something should happen to either of us, I don't want us to be at odds. Even if we come to a mutual agreement to be friendly acquaintances, I'll take that over whatever we are right now."

"I think he would agree. Listen, I should get back, but I'll text you in a bit to check in, okay?"

"All right. And Coyote, I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess. I hate the idea of you being in the middle of this."

"Don't worry about it, all right? Worry about me going on my date tonight."

Ghost rocketed upwards. "You have a date?"

"Yeah. A cute girl gave me her number a while ago, and, well, here we are. I'll tell you about it if it goes well. Or I'll call you if I need an escape."

"I'm sure it'll be fine, but I'm here if you need me. I'll talk to you later." Ghost hung up and sighed, a soft smile tugging on her lips at the idea of Coyote going on a date. She was beyond happy for him to be putting himself out there and prayed it turned into something bigger and better for him.

Ghost pushed herself up and went to the living room, taking her phone and charger. She planned on some retail therapy- specifically books- when her gaze drifted to the guitars on her wall, namely, the dark blue one hanging above them all. The oldest, most sentimental in her collection.

Forever and always. 

Forever and always.

Forever and always.

The words echoed repeatedly in her head. Hangman couldn't have meant them. Not truly. Not if he couldn't give her the one kernel of truth she desperately needed to hear. Anger swelled in her chest, and she tugged the guitar down. Setting up her phone, Ghost strummed a few notes, getting into the frame of mind for the song screaming to be sung. Once she memorized the lyrics, Ghost strung the first note, her voice ringing out crystal clear. She started out calmly, keeping her emotions in check, but when she hit the chorus, the dam burst as she sang with her wounded heart: "And I stare at the phone, he still hasn't called, and then you feel so low you can't feel nothing at all, and you flashback to when he said forever and always. Oh, oh, and it rains in your bedroom, everything is wrong. It rains when you're here, and it rains when you're gone. 'Cause I was there when you said forever and always..."

After that, the song came out much more angrily than Ghost intended, but by the end of it, all the bravado and fury had disappeared, and with her voice barely holding together, a fresh wave of tears threatening to hijack her video, Ghost finished softly: "You said forever and always."

She stopped the video and leaned back on her couch, the melody and singing having acted as a sort of catharsis to voice her feelings. Most of her followers hadn't pieced together that her recent postings had been related to her emotions lately because they hadn't for the past few years. Only when Ghost had started the account after Ghoul's death- a coping mechanism for losing both her WSO and Hangman- had the songs been linked to her feelings. Otherwise, all the songs had simply been ones she loved and enjoyed belting out to. Only those who knew Ghost was behind the account would see the shift, understand the significance behind each video, meaning Juliette, Rooster, Jackie, and Wolfie. No one else, not even Coyote, Hangman, the Daggers, or Charlie, knew the account was owned by Ghost, and she intended on keeping it that way. If they did somehow, they kept it a secret from her.

Ghost fiddled with her Naval Academy ring while posting the video. Two familiar people instantly liked it: Princess86 and NotJacobBlack. Also known as Juliette Kazansky and Wolfie. The former left no comment, probably because she would be seeing Ghost later in the day, but the latter commented: Do I need to send wine and ice cream to you? I'd bring it myself, but it's hard being overseas.

Ghost chuckled, liked the comment, and replied: Just wait to bring it when I see you next!

The second she replied to Wolfie, another like came in by QueenJ_5_30. Another second later, the person's name flashed on Ghost's screen, demanding to FaceTime. 

"Hey, Jackie," Ghost answered, setting her guitar aside.

"Spill," Jackie ordered.

Ghost shook her head. "I'd rather not get into it."

"So that heart-wrenching song you just posted has nothing to do with why you wanted me to call?"

"Not in the slightest, actually," Ghost said matter-of-factly. "I need your help with something, and it's going to sound absolutely batshit crazy."

"Dealing with batshit crazy is my specialty, and I could use a distraction. What's up?"

"So, you're really good at finding things that people don't want you to-"

"Yep, it's why I got hired for my job. Why?"

"I need you to look into something for me. I need you to find out exactly when Mom and Dad went on their break before I was born."

"Oh, I can tell you that now. It was late May, early June the year before. Why?"

"I'm not going to ask why you knew that off the top of your head. Give me a sec." Ghost did some calculations in her head and felt the color drain out of her face. "Jackie- oh God, I can't believe I'm asking this right now- do you know if Mom had an affair during that time?"

"I'm sure I could find out, but why? You keep avoiding that question. Why do you need to know this?"

Ghost took a deep breath, forcing herself not to jump to conclusions. Still, Jackie had to understand Ghost's motivations. "Because I learned that when she and Dad went on their break, Mom dated Maverick for those two weeks she was away."

"And?"

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Ghost simply said, "Jackie, do the math."

The elder Blackwood narrowed her eyes at her little sister, but Ghost could see the gears turning in her head. It didn't take long for Jackie to catch on. "Oh my God. You think- are you-"

"I don't know, and that's what I need your help finding out. I don't want to ask him and stir up trouble without more concrete evidence, and I don't want to ask Mom because we just lost Dad and-"

Jackie held up her hand to cut off her sister and said, "Say no more. I'm on it. Give me a week."

****

Tags: @lgg5989 @shanimallina87 @polikszena @summ3rlotus @icemansgirl1999 @supernaturaldawning @thedarkinmansfield @lyannaforpresident @lapilark @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @simpofthecentury @shadeops21 @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @double-j @bradshawsandbridgetons @catsandgeekyandnerd @peachiicherries @multifandomcnova @fandomsstolemylife00 @bookloverhorses @mak-32 @midnightmagpiemama @luckyladycreator2 @ellamae021 @kmc1989

Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5 Chp 6 Chp 7 Chp 8 Chp 9 Chp 10 Chp 11 Chp 12 Chp 13 Chp 14 Chp 15 Chp 16 Chp 17 Chp 18 Chp 19 Chp 20 Chp 21 Chp 22 Chp 23 Chp 24 Chp 25 Chp 26 Chp 27 Chp 28 Chp 29

If you're not on the tag list and want to be, just let me know :)

[levihantrash]

Hi! Got a prompt for you if you're interested (feel free to write a drabble, a one-shot, or a multi-chap): Levihan, "One more chance." Open to interpretation. Thanks, and good luck! :)

okay so i decided to combine this prompt together with my headcanon for that levihan ring merch for a canon setting one-shot!

One More Chance

"What do you think of rings?" Hange asks Levi out of the blue, in the little room that could suffice as an office for his unofficial position as second in command.

"Why?" Levi knows that Hauge doesn't ask questions out of the blue without motives.

They could be random, absurd, silly, but there was always a reason behind their questions.

Hange plants one elbow on the table, bent forward in anticipation for Levi's answer. His eyes catch the glint of Hange's bolo tie as it swung back and forth.

Jewellery? Vanity aside, Hange knows better than Levi how expensive it is to obtain warm clothing and food, much less a bunch of shiny rocks. They spent days mulling over the Survey Corps’ budget, where to allocate resources, how to seek funding, and to keep expenses humane but tight.

“Why?” He repeats, unsure as to whether to sneak in a crass joke as Hange’s eyes were shining—in a different tone compared to the bright-eyedness that showed whenever they made a new discovery. It was, what was it? Nostalgia? Levi is certain that Hange had never, of ten years being by their side, even hinted at a desire for a ring, for whatever reason they might yearn for the object.

Hange knows Levi is perturbed—suspicious, even. They know that such an ambiguously-worded question, simple as it was, will not warrant a straightforward answer from Levi. He is far too observant to not think of Hange’s line of questioning as uncharacteristic from the usual. The usual Hange will elaborate; they will give details. Perhaps this is a ring made from a special sort of metal to go undetected from metal sensors to sneak past the enemy and pass on valuable information etched in code on the inside, for example. Whatever reason that prompted Hange to take a sudden interest in rings wasn’t for battle, or for moral good, which frankly, is more embarrassing for them.

“Do you keep those patches with you?” Hange changes the topic. Levi blinks, then turns to the drawer and pulls the handle. The open drawer speaks for itself; filled with rows and rows of haphazardly torn patches of the Survey Corp’s uniform, the emblem of the wings of freedom.

“You keep it here, huh…” Hange muses, touching one patch tenderly, feeling the crusted blood stain at the tip of their finger.

“Do you remember who each patch belongs to?”

Levi shakes his head, not defending the lack of differentiation between the patches. To him, each patch is louder than a name attached to it. A fellow soldier whose heart he carried on within him.

“If I die, Levi, will you bring back my patch?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” Levi is quick to retort, sounding mildly irritated that Hange brought up the possibility of death.

“We all die someday.”

“We should think about how to stay alive,” Levi says firmly. “And what does any of this have to do with rings?”

Hange laughs, patting Levi on the shoulder affectionately. “You won’t let that go, huh?”

“It seems important,” Levi says, disgruntled. “You’re not usually so hesitant.”

“It’s not.” Hange waves their hands defensively, straightening up to avoid Levi’s gaze.

“What’s that in your pocket? Your hand keeps touching it.” Levi is sharp as ever, Hange thinks, itching to back out and tend to more important commander duties.

“Maybe next time! I have to go!” Hange brisk-walks out of the office, leaving Levi in the dust. He has the immediate urge to follow them, to grab their arm and ask what’s wrong, to force some kind of coherent understanding to this muddled conversation. Yet, he continues sitting on the chair, wondering if their mutual awkwardness had swept past them in the form of a lost opportunity. The patches flutter a little in the wind, as though asking him, what are you so afraid of?

He closes the drawer and sinks back onto the creaky, wooden chair, waiting for Hange to come back.

The next time he sees them again is when he’s so battered that his back trembles at the prospect of sitting on another hard surface. The series of negotiations, arguments, plans, fly past him in a whirlwind of decisions led by Hange. He occasionally spots the bulge in their side pocket, but his head is spinning with a million of other more dire worries to figure out what the hell is this unresolved mystery from months ago.

One night, as Hange tends to the bandages around his head, traces the stiches on his face, and mumbles quiet nothings about how they’re glad he’s alive, he finally lifts a shaky hand to point at the bulging pocket.

“Are you going to tell me what’s in that?”

“Nothing that will help us stop this mess,” Hange says, sweeping some of the fringe off his forehead to wipe the sweat underneath.

“But it’s important to you,” he states. Hange nods slowly.

“And you want to show it to me.” He tries, unaccustomed to the presumptuousness of his claim. But there is little time. If there was ever time before, now they were running on thin, cracked lines of time, teetering over the edge.

Hange sighs, and stuffs a reluctant hand into their pocket to bring out a small box.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t use the Scouts’ funds.”

“The Survey Corps doesn’t exist anymore,” Levi reminds them, to distract his mind from speculating endlessly about what’s in the box. He wants to sit up. Physically straining himself feels unwise, so he settles with tilting his head to get a clearer view of both Hange and the box.

Hange carefully holds his shoulders to sit him up, leaning him against them.

“I got rings for us.”

“Huh?”

The box is opened, and inside were two shining rings in silver and gold. Purple embellishment on the gold and green on silver. Not to mention it was heart-shaped rings. Levi feels his cheeks getting warmer by the second by its blatant implications, and is thankful that the bandages literally covered half his face.

“I know, I told them not to make it heart-shaped but you know when Reeves knew it was for you he said I had to make it obvious, whatever that meant,” Hange says quickly, snapping the box shut so as to save themselves from having to confront what was glaring at them.

“It’s not practical for fighting,” Levi murmurs, reaching out to take the box from Hange.

“Dedicate your hearts… wasn’t that what Erwin said?” Hange, always the one to inject light humour in tense situations, decides it will be alright to quote Erwin’s war cry in what is essentially a confession.

“Right.” Levi opens the box, looking expectantly at Hange.

“What?”

“Rings are for wearing, right?”

“You said they weren’t practical!”

“We’re not fighting now.”

Running their hands through their hair, Hange looks rather sheepish. “It’s a bit selfish but I just want to be remembered. As more than a patch.”

Levi frowns, bandages crinkling. “You think I’ll forget you?”

“I don’t know.”

“I won’t forget you. Ring or no ring.”

Upon hearing the seriousness of Levi’s voice, the light-heartedness returns to Hange, as they cheekily present the ring to them.

“Well then, will you dedicate your heart to me, shitty Captain?”

“Whatever, Four-eyes.” He says it as flippantly as he can, yet handles the ring like sudden movement will break it.

“Hah! I wonder what the kids will say about the rings…” Hange stretches out and lays beside Levi, admiring the ring on their hand amidst the backdrop of night stars. He takes their hand and weaves his fingers through it, placing their interlocked hands on his chest.

After the plane takes off, Levi’s eyes are trained on the floor. The plane rattles, swerves, and gains momentum. Everyone around him is emotional—rightly so, because their leader had said a fleeting goodbye before leaping to their death. He holds one hand in the other, feeling the cold metal on his finger. Rings don’t leave the smell of Hange’s skin when they lie their head on his shoulder after a long day. Rings don’t capture the sound of Hange’s laugh when they make friendly banter with their juniors, or when Levi makes the occasional, dry joke that only they pick up on. Rings don’t emulate the dialogue of their late-night discussions in his office, the tea that he makes and that they drink from the same cup—to save the time needed for washing, according to Hange. He doesn’t protest.

Still, the ring is all he has left. The one chance Hange had, they entrusted in him this ring. They could translate Levi’s words into more palpable versions for other people, but they could not for the life of them come up with words to express their more vulnerable feelings. For Hange, the ring was another chance to cement what remained unspoken: I hope you remember me. I’m here with you.

The last chance Levi had, he placed a fist on their heart.

“Dedicate your heart.” The ring flashes in the sunlight, making Hange blink back tears.

Now, he clutches one hand in the other.

“See you, Hange.” The ring stares back, patiently. He closes his eyes, bringing the thin, metal sentiment to his lips.

“Keep watching us.”

thank you for the prompt @djmarinizelablog !! ^_^

[biaswreckme]

caught in a lie | pjm

Part of the Sons of Midas Collab

Summary: As the heir of the King’s Conglomerate, sweetheart Park Jimin has been spending his time at the hospital run by his father, shadowing his footsteps. And it is where his life entangles with yours with lunch dates, caring touches, and whispered promises. But what happens when he finds himself caught in a web of lies?

Pairing: Chaebol!Jimin/Nurse!Reader

Members: Jimin, Jungkook

Length: 8.5k words

Genre: romance, angst, smut, strangers to lovers

Rating: 18+

Triggers/Warnings: explicit sexual content, oral (f and m giving and receiving), fingering (f receiving), lowkey dom!jimin, dry humping, praise kink, accusations involving drugs/meds, lying, incrimination

A/N: This fic is a two-shot part of the Sons of Midas collab. I wanted to start by thanking mars @joheunsaram so much for inviting me to be a part of this incredible collab with such beautifully talented writers ♥ and also for being my beta-reader, thank you so much bb ♥

part one | part two (June 25th)

You were sitting down having your lunch as usual, headphones on, watching a drama on your phone when you noticed someone settling opposite you. You had seen him a handful of times before around the hospital, but he was in a suit that was tailored to fit him perfectly that you could not imagine it being anything but expensive. He was always walking around, observing things, talking to people, but you did not think he was a doctor or another nurse or even anyone who worked there. Maybe he had a chance of being part of admin, but he looked too nice for that. Your train of thoughts was interrupted by his voice, so you paused what you were watching and took off your headphones.

“Hi.”

“Hi?” You were somewhat uncertain, not knowing what he wanted interrupting your lunch, but you noticed he had a tray on the table in front of him.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” His big smile and the way it made his eyes turn into small crescent moons made it impossible to say no, but you looked around and there were empty places.

“Ok?” You asked, confusion stamped across your face. “Do I know you? Did I… do something?” You couldn’t help but ask, this was not an everyday occurrence.

“No, no, I just… I’ve seen you around, you seemed nice, so I wanted to sit here to keep you company, well, if you want to, of course. Whatever it is you’re watching certainly must be more interesting than a random guy asking to sit at your table.” He started to ramble and opened his eyes in shock. “I’m coming off as a total creep, aren’t I? I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone.”

You smiled, shaking your head in negation.

“You’re not, I've seen you around too. I’m Y/n Y/l/n”,” you extended your arm, presenting your hand for him to shake.

“Y/n,” he repeated, almost as if letting your name roll around on his tongue. But he stopped, seeming to think about what he was going to say for a moment before continuing. “I’m P… Jimin. Just Jimin.”

“Well, just Jimin, nice to meet you. If you’ve seen me, you might have figured I’m a nurse here. What about you? You don’t dress like one. Or like a doctor.”

“I’m… I’m a business student.” He hesitated, but he wasn’t sure whether you’d noticed.

“Business?” You asked, your tone clearly indicating you were not happy with his response. “Business… profits and losses are all you care about? This is a hospital, we treat people here, people who need and not always have the conditions to pay for it. This shouldn’t be a business,” you started getting up, and he did the same, hands up in the air as if trying to maintain peace.

“Please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Please let me explain myself,�� he begged, surprised by your reaction. “I’m a business student, yes, but I’ve been going around, trying to get to know the people who work here, the people who are the backbone of this place. People like you, that truly care about the patients.”

You sat there quietly, still unsure about him, but you were willing to listen. And you were glad you did. The more he talked, the more you could see the passion in his eyes the same eye people had said before they saw in yours when you talked about your job. You were still uncertain as to why he was giving you his attention, but for the first time in a while you felt yourself truly seen by someone.

You hated to admit it to yourself, but you were lonely. Moving to Seoul for the nurse position at the hospital had been an impactful decision in your life; it meant leaving everyone you knew behind and moving to a large city by yourself. By then you had some acquaintances, but no one you could truly call a friend. Your tendency to be more introverted and not open up to people that easily both protected and harmed you, but there he was. Jimin - wanting to talk to you, to have lunch, to get to know you. He got you a small bouquet of daisies once, saying he saw them in the florist on the way to the hospital and upon inquiring about their meaning, he said they reminded him of you. And so he took to calling you Daisy, and you started wearing a daisy pin on your scrubs, causing him to smile whenever you crossed paths at the hospital but could not talk to each other.

And soon it turned into a routine. If you had the night shift, he’d usually come by in the morning to have breakfast with you, taking you to the small coffee shop you adored. If you had the day shift, he’d be your company during lunch time at a hidden table at the corner of the cafeteria, choosing to eat your lunch later than usual to not be in any of the gossipers’ radar, your dramas long forgotten during this hour. You would catch up on them later, but you didn’t have to hide behind your screen anymore, in fact, you wouldn’t even touch your phone in his presence. You got to know more about him, but there was still some aura of mystery around his family, with him saying he didn’t feel comfortable talking about them, and you hoped that maybe one day he would feel comfortable enough to open up. But regardless, your conversations were always enthralling and you were filled with sadness when the hour was up.

That is, until the week routine blended into weekends as well, thanks to you taking the initiative. You had taken to cooking for both you and Jimin whenever you knew he would show up, so this proved to be the perfect opportunity - and excuse - to invite him over.

“This is delicious, Y/n,” Jimin started, almost moaning at the taste, “how can you be this good?”

“I’m good at a lot of things,” you decided to be blunt, “cooking in particular, but I have a wide set of skills.”

Jimin just sat there with his mouth open in shock, then blinked rapidly as if to shake some inappropriate thoughts away, but momentarily speechless.

“How about you come to dinner at mine this Saturday?” you asked, deciding to go for it. You liked Jimin and you were pretty sure he also liked you, if all the time you had been spending together was an indication of that.

He took a moment to answer, still seemingly speechless by your forwardness, so you spoke again.

“I’d like to get to know you more outside this hospital, Jimin. We’re always rushing because my hours are crazy, I just… I just want some quiet time with you. And no beeping or smell of disinfectant and people running with a crash cart interrupting our lunch or coffee.” You expressed your tiredness at the situation, always being interrupted by an urgent call or trying to avoid people.

“Tell me when and where and I will be there. I want to be alone with you,” he said, staring into your eyes, then quickly blinked and continued, “I mean, I want some alone time with you too, away from this, not implying anything else, I’m sorry.”

You chuckled; it was rare to see Jimin get flustered over anything at all, it was surely a change, and you could not wait to see what other sides of him you would get to know once you were away and by yourselves.

You opted for a casual dinner, after all, it was at your small apartment, but Jimin’s definition of casual was definitely not the same as yours. He showed up in sinful pants, tight, showing you his muscular thighs - you had learned he was a dancer, yet the muscles that strained the fabric were still a surprise - a black shirt and a leather jacket, which you had carefully put in the hanger by the door, leaving him to roll up his sleeves. You were wearing a black dress, no shoes, and some nice underwear just in case, as you had told yourself.

You had cooked something light, prepared a simple salad, and poured your favorite white wine to accompany the food. Conversation flowed nicely, and it was a nice change in scenery to be able to talk and laugh with Jimin without having to worry about being too loud or calling too much people’s attention. But as nice and calm as the situation was, the tension between the two of you was palpable in the air throughout the dinner. Whenever your fork touched your lips, he would stare, unconsciously licking his lips and taking his own fork to his mouth, his fingers tightening around the silverware.

You had finished eating for a while, just talking at the table when your eyes locked in an intense stare, and you could feel your breath starting to quicken. Jimin licked his lips slowly, his pink tongue darting out and wetting them, and your eyes could not help but focus on the motion. He bit his luscious bottom lip, seeming to think for a second, before closing the distance between your bodies. The position was a little awkward on the sofa, having to turn your bodies, one of your legs bending to give him space to get closer to you. His soft lips pressed onto yours and you felt his tongue seeking permission to deepen the kiss, his hand going to your neck to hold you closer to him, his fingers itching to entangle in your hair. You let out a soft moan when he deepened the kiss, his hand grabbing your neck so tight you could almost feel his short nails on your skin, and you whispered ‘bedroom’ in between kisses.

You wasted no time in pulling him up and towards the bedroom, mentally thanking yourself for having left the condoms in the drawer in your bedside table. It was a small apartment, so it was only a few steps until Jimin was gently pushing you on the bed, stepping out of his socks and hoisting your body up so he could lie on top of you. You opened your legs slightly so he could fit between them, and he slowly rolled his hips into yours as he kissed your neck. You grabbed his hair, your fingers tugging on his blonde strands while you lifted your leg and put it around his hip, pressing down, needing to feel him. Your dress was hoisted up, only the barrier of your lace panties and his pants (and underwear) between your bodies. You could feel his hardness pressing deliciously against you, and you pulled his hair to kiss his lips again.

His hands freed you from your dress, leaving you in the simple pair of lace lingerie, his eyes seemingly darkening seeing your body for the first time.

“You are beautiful, Y/n, such a pretty flower, I can’t believe I’m this lucky” he said, licking his lips while slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

You sat up, helping him in the process, wanting to feel his skin under your fingertips, pushing the garment away from his body. Your fingers immediately went to the side of his body, ghosting over the letters in his tattoo, then going for the deep v on his front. He stood there kneeling on the bed in front of you with his erection straining against his dark pants, and you pressed your hand against it, not hesitating to undo the button and pull down the zipper, and he helped you push it down alongside his underwear. It was a little awkward to take his pants off from his position and both had to maneuver, softly laughing at the moment, the tension and pressure of the first time easing in the room and leaving both of you more comfortable.

He helped you out of our bra, his mouth immediately latching onto one of your nipples, sucking, teasing, biting gently, leaving you a panting mess on the bed while his hand gave attention to the other nipple, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. You could not keep your moans in, needing to let out your pleasure under his ministrations. You hoisted your hips, trying to have him press against you again when he changed his focus, but he was having none of that. He looked into your eyes while his fingers hooked on the sides of your panties, slowly pulling them down, a string of your wetness visible in the light sticking to the fabric.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he said as if he did not believe it, but continued, “can I taste you?”

You could only nod, spreading your legs further so he could lie between them hoisted by his elbows. You adjusted yourself on the pillows so you could watch him, and his eyes did not stray from yours as he lowered his mouth, his tongue out, that first lick from bottom to top having him moaning and closing his eyes. He circled your clit once with his tongue, wrapping his lips around it to suck on it while holding your legs wide open. He let it go with a pop and looked at you.

“Grab my hair, Daisy,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

You did as he demanded, your fingers entangling again in his soft hair, pulling him towards you. On a particular flick on your clit that left you breathless you tugged on his strands and he moaned, so you did it again, the vibration against your bundle of nerves increasing the pleasurable sensation that had been building up until you couldn’t stop your hips from moving, chasing the high that you were about to fall from. And just as you were about to reach that delicious edge, he stopped.

“Jimin,” you whined and pulled his hair so he would keep licking you, but he shook his head.

“I wanna feel you come when I’m inside you,” he stated, kissing up your body until he reached your lips and you could taste yourself on his tongue. “Let me…” he started, moving away from you, looking around, but you just reached your hand to the side, pointing to the drawer, understanding what he wanted. His eyes tightened into the tiny crescent moons you adored, his hooded gaze of hunger for you turning you on.

He reached into the furniture and grabbed the bottle of lube and the strip of condoms. He opened the foil packet, rolling the condom on his erection and squeezing the lubricant onto it, lathering himself up. You barely had time to appreciate it for itself; it was average in length, the pink of his bulbous head matching the color of his tongue and swollen-from-kisses lips, and you were certain that you were going to feel the girth tomorrow, already anticipating the heavenly stretch that was about to come.

No words were necessary at the moment. Your bodies joined perfectly as if you were long time lovers, no more awkward touches between the two of you. He moved his hips slowly at first, letting you feel the drag of his thickness on your walls and giving you time to adjust to it, not wanting to hurt you. When you were all but clawing at his back he quickened his hips, rolling them just right to have you clenching the pillows under your head, pleasure overtaking your body. The cadence and way in which he moved his hips showed the dancer in him - you had yet to see him dance, maybe you could convince him to do it naked just for you. You could feel the overwhelming sensation building up again, chasing that high that was approaching quickly yet not fast enough.

And it was as if Jimin knew exactly what you needed, canting his hips up at the same time he pressed on your clit, snapping that coiled band forming inside you. He swallowed your moans with a kiss, moaning into it himself, feeling you tighten around him as he wanted. It did not take long for his hips to falter and you tug on his hair and pull him to an open-mouthed kiss as he came, sweaty lithe yet muscular body shining under the bedroom light with the effort.

“So how was that for dessert?” You asked and he chuckled, his lips pressing against yours, still out of breath.

And so your dates continued, alternating between your place and cozy restaurants, never seeing his place. You had an inkling of why he had been avoiding it, but you decided not to press the issue for the time being, wanting to enjoy him and his company as it came, not wanting to complicate things and push him away if he was not ready for that yet. He was slowly opening up, mentioning his family more, making it clear to you that his last name, still a mystery to you, was linked with affluent and influential people, and you did not want to break the bubble you two were inhabiting. Not yet.

That evening, he had taken you to a small family-owned dumpling restaurant. It was the best one you had ever been to, but what certainly contributed to your high opinion of the place was Jimin. He had been looking so good in the navy blazer and tight black pants, his intense eyes staring into yours throughout the meal that all you were thinking about was rushing home and getting him out of that and under you, above you, whichever way it happened. You learned to read his body and you knew he had been thinking about the same thing, his eyes darknening and his tongue peaking out to softly lick his lips and tease you. Thankfully, the restaurant was not far from your apartment, and once you were inside, he pushed you against the wall, molding his body onto yours, his muscular thigh coming in between your thighs, pressing against your center. You moaned at the feeling and started to slightly move your hips back and forth, letting your weight drop so you could feel his thigh even more. You felt him grabbing your hair and tilting your head to the side so he could kiss your neck, biting it, soothing the sting with his soft tongue. You could barely hear him, his words so low into your ear, his breath hot on your skin.

“You wanna ride me?”

You nodded your head, your mouth opening into a moan. “Yes, please… Jimin...”

“Shh, I’ve got you, Y/n,” he whispered, his lips sucking your earlobe making your legs falter. “Remember your safeword. Use it if you need it.”

He quickly looked around your apartment, pulling you towards your couch and sitting down on it. He tugged on your hands to make you sit on his lap, his legs slightly spread, and the moment you lowered your hips, your center came into contact with his erection. You moaned, pressing down, needing to feel more of him against you. Jimin adjusted himself lower on the sofa and his hands grabbed your hips, forcing them to move back and forth on him, looking into your eyes to gauge your reaction. You closed your eyes, his look paired with the feeling between your legs proving to be too intense for you to sustain his gaze. You could feel him, big and heavy pressed against you deliciously, and you canted your hips up an inch and then he was pressing just right, enhancing your pleasure. Your arms went around his shoulders and you hid your face on his neck, your hips moving slightly faster with the aid of his hands, small whines coming out of your mouth.

“You’re so hot like this, so needy for me,” he tugged on your hair while he said this, “look at me. I wanna see your face, come on, come for me.”

You pressed down harder, your legs trembling when pleasure overtook your body, the tingling spreading from the depths of your belly to the tips of your toes and fingers, and he urged you on, not letting you stop until you the small aftershocks were hitting you and you mumbled that it was too much. He kissed you, his tongue caressing yours as you slowly stepped up from his lap and kneeled between his opened legs, hands reaching to take his pants off. You almost blushed when you saw the wet stains on the front and he smirked. Jimin raised his hips, helping you, his erection finally freed from its confines as you tugged his pants down.

There was a soft stain on the front of his underwear too from where you had humped him, showing how wet you truly were. You mouthed his cock through the fabric, your nose touching the skin above it, inhaling his sweet scent, and it turned you on even more to feel how he’d been preparing for you, how he knew pretty well by this point how much you liked to smell the soft skin starting on his neck, kissing him in trails until his scent inebriated you. You followed the outline of his erection until you reached the bulbous head, snapping down the fabric so you could engulf it with your lips. He moaned and bit his full lips, one of his hands pushing your hair back from your face. You licked the wetness from the small slit, your tongue circling its head while you pulled down the underwear just enough so you could have access to his entire erection and balls. You let some spit dribble out, using your hand to stroke him up and down a couple of times before sucking him into your mouth, slowly moving and fitting more of him.

You felt his breath falter for a second before he inhaled deeply, soft high-pitched moans starting to leave his lips, almost as if he was trying to hide them from you for now but was not able to, the intensity of your touch too much for him to be quiet and not to react. You took deep breaths through your nose as you did it preparing to take his full length inside your mouth, pausing when your nose touched his skin, feeling him at the back of your throat, while you felt his left hand following the trace of your face lightly, caressing your cheek, and moaning very low ‘yes, just like this, please’. You choked once, twice, and then backed up, showing him the tears gathering on your eyes and the string of spit not breaking the connection between you and his member, knowing he liked seeing you getting messy like this - and this evening you had gone light on your makeup, thinking you should have used some more mascara to have it running down your cheeks so he could praise you and look more ruined, but alas, he praised you anyways, those words soft and warm coming from his lips as he pressed your head down again. You wiggled your tongue to lick at his base while going down, his hands tightening on your hair, his balls starting to draw up from the pleasure and you used your hands to give them some attention, caressing them softly as you tasted him.

“If you keep this up I’m not gonna last,” he let out in between moans.

You nodded; it was exactly what you wanted, because as much as he loved seeing you being wrecked, you loved watching him fall apart under your ministrations, knowing you were the one making him lose control and feel this good. You intensified your movements and sucked harder, tightening your mouth around him, getting him deeper into your mouth each time until your lips were pressed directly on his skin, the trimmed hairs tickling you.

“Let me take care of you, Chim,” you said as you let him go with a pop, your voice hoarse. You pressed your mouth on him again, this time more sloppy as you got him closer to the edge, loud slurping sounds coming from you as you focused entirely on his pleasure. You felt his balls tightening under your hands, and you increased the suction, going down fast and choking on him, constricting your throat. His voice was beautiful moaning out your name into the room, thick spurts hitting the back of your throat as you swallow. You let him go, licking him clean, out of breath and throat feeling rough. You could barely catch your breath before he was pulling you up onto his lap again, kissing you deeply and hugging you tight against his chest.

“How about we clean up and I make you some tea?” You heard him speaking, his tone low, not wanting to break too much of the daze. He looked into your eyes, smiling upon seeing you still hazy from giving him pleasure. “I…” he paused, shaking his head as if to let go of a thought and change what he was about to confess, “now let me take care of you.”

You tried to be discreet around the hospital, avoiding prying eyes and gossiping mouths the most you could, but your loving looks and soft passing touches struck the attention of one particular set of eyes.

Unbeknownst to you, Park Jimin, as the heir of his family’s conglomerate and the future chairman of the hospital, was expected to marry well and into another affluent family. More specifically, conversations were being held to reach an agreement for him to marry the beautiful heir of the Choi family, Hyuna. She was his age, went to all the same schools and frequented the same places Park Jimin did. That is, until she could not find him anymore in their usual favorite restaurants and clubs and found out he had been spending almost his entire time at the hospital.

For two people who were supposed to be getting to know each other better to make the engagement official in a few months, she surely missed him. So she took it upon herself to go to the hospital, his future hospital, and find him. It did not take her long to ask around to find he was in the cafeteria - why he would be there completely went over her mind, because he could not be actually eating there, could he?

Not only he could, but he was eating accompanied by someone. It must have been just any nurse, all part of his plan on getting to know the people at the hospital - for what reason she could not fathom, after all, he was going to basically own the place, there were other people who should care for the people. He needed to focus on the business, put his heart into it or else he would get too soft, even softer than he already was for someone who was supposed to inherit the entire conglomerate.

So she let it slide. Until she saw him again with her. And again. And once more that same week, the same month. The pattern became too obvious to her, and it was a sure explanation on why he had been avoiding her texts and invitations for dinners and parties they had an obligation to attend.

So a plan started forming into her mind. She had to get that girl out of the equation, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t done that before - albeit it didn’t work exactly in her favor as she planned when she was much younger and had her eyes on Kim Namjoon. And now Choi Hyuna got what she wanted when she wanted. Nobody, certainly not a no-name little nurse would come in between Jimin and her, not after all the planning and work she did to convince both of their families they would be the perfect match.

You were doing your rounds, visiting the patients on the floor that were under your care, going into one room after the other, checking the monitors and their stats, and comforting the family members that were anxiously waiting for updates. So you entered the room absentmindedly, and abruptly halted, surprised upon seeing who was sitting beside your patient’s son, Jeon Jungkook was his name, if you were not mistaken. Ms. Jeon was one of the most recent patients that fell in your route, and when you saw the familiar blonde man that made your heart flutter every time you even thought of his name you had to pause to collect yourself momentarily.

“Oh, hi,” you stopped, chart in hand, looking at Jimin, a little confused.

“Hello, nurse Y/l/n.” Jimin answered, trying to hide his smile.

“You two know each other?” Jungkook asked, pretending not to know, watching your reactions.

“Yes, uh, we’ve seen each other around the hospital,” you were quick to answer. “he’s been making his rounds as a business student, right?”

“Ah,�� Jungkook nods his head. “Right, Jimin is finishing his business grad.”

“I told you, I’ve been getting to know people here. But don’t let us disturb your work. Go ahead.” Jimin gestured with his hands, sitting down to give you space.

You felt shy under his intense gaze, as this was the first time he was watching you work, but you shook your head and focused on the task at hand.

“I think she is mom’s favorite,” Jungkook commented to Jimin, looking carefully at both of you. “Not all the nurses talk to their patients like that.”

“It’s always good to talk to them, explain what you’re doing and what’s going on, even if they can’t respond to it,” you explained, going over the numbers on the monitor. “Alright, Ms. Jeon, everything looks good today. Did your son tell you he has someone with him today?” You lower your body so you can whisper in her ear in a way that they can’t hear, “His companion is quite handsome. I like him a lot. That’s our secret, okay?”

You did not notice, but Jimin was looking at you with such fondness in his eyes that alerted Jungkook, who mouthed a “we need to talk” to him.

“Mr. Jeon,” you said, with a normal tone in your voice, trying not to look at Jimin, telling yourself mentally to be professional. “Your mother seems to be recovering quite well, and from what the doctors have been discussing it seems she might be ready to wake up soon. Good day, excuse me.” You said, leaving the room.

As soon as you stepped out and closed the door, Jungkook looked at Jimin with seriousness stamped across his face.

“What are you doing, hyung?” Jungkook asked.

“What do you mean, Jungkook?” Jimin seemed confused at the question.

“Does she even know who you are? Who you truly are?”

“Not yet.”

“You have to tell her. If you love her you have to tell her the truth. You can’t keep lying.”

“Okay, wait a minute. One, I’m not lying per se. I’m just… omitting some information that could be bad for us. And two, I don’t love her. We’re not there yet. I don’t think so. I… I don’t know.” Jimin sighed, letting his head drop into his hands, running his fingers through his hair nervously.

“I’ve seen the way you look at her, the way you talk about her. You can’t just choose and say that you don't love her, that’s now how it works. You just fall in love.” Jungkook said, his eyes shining. “And that’s why you need to tell her you’re Park Jimin. The Park Jimin. It will only get worse if you wait more.”

“I’m scared, Jungkook,” he confessed, shaking his head with his eyes cast down. “I’m scared she’ll run away after learning the truth.”

“The longer you wait the worse it will be, hyung. Does she even have any idea how much money your family has?”

“Not really… I was thinking about inviting her to your birthday as my plus one, could I?”

“You’re not thinking about telling her the truth at the party, are you? Hyung, no! I mean, you can invite her but please tell her before that. She needs to know at least what to expect.”

“I… I’ll see. I’ll invite her and see what I’m going to say…”

“She seems good. And she seems good for you, too. Don’t fuck this up, Mr. Park.”

“I’ll try not to. I like her, Jungkook. I like her a lot,” Jimin sighed again, confessing, “Help me not fuck this up, please.”

Now, you see, Choi Hyuna did not believe herself to be lying about this particular information. She had been introducing herself as Mr. Park’s soon-to-be daughter-in-law, and whenever she got the question of “Oh, Mr. Park Jimin’s girlfriend?”, she corrected them to fiancee (well, soon enough anyways).

Using this, it was easy to learn what she needed about you. It took her a few weeks to gather all the information so as not to arouse too much suspicion, talking to different people around the hospital, to the point in which she had access to your hand-signed charts. Hyuna was particularly proud of her handwriting and signature forging skills, which only helped solidify the plan in her head.

She just needed some copies to show Jimin at the right moment. Until then, she could wait, getting to know her acquaintance at the hospital a little better so he would help her with exactly what she needed to get Y/n away from her man.

He brought up the subject of Jungkook’s birthday party when you were both lying down, sweaty bodies snuggled close, your head resting on his chest, still trying to catch your breaths after the intense and vigorous activities of the night, your body still high strung sensitive from the three orgasms in a short time and sequence, Jimin always trying to do more than the previous times to completely wreck you.

“It’s nothing fancy, just a get together to celebrate his birthday.”

“Yeah, sure, I’d love to go with you. Where is it going to be?”

“At the yacht,” he says nonchalantly.

“Yacht?” You got up onto your elbows, looking at him with disbelief stamped across your face. “Jimin, that’s not nothing fancy, that is probably one of the definitions of fancy if you look it up in the dictionary.” You shook your head, a chuckle almost in a mocking tone coming from your mouth. “I know we are not in the same financial range, but… what should I expect? I’ve tried not to pressure you to talk about your family or friends, but I need to know what I’m getting into. Because if I’m there, I’m going to meet them, aren’t I?”

He nodded in response, affirmatively.

“So I need to know some. I know the topic is uncomfortable and we don’t need to make it an issue, but I’m not going in blind.”

He sighed, pulling up your covers seeing the goosebumps starting to cover your skin at the sweat drying, and turned his body to face you.

“My family is… comfortable.” He opened his eyes wide in surprise at your laugh.

“Jimin, I am comfortable. It’s a small apartment but I earn enough to rent it, get groceries, and have some fun… Are you scared?” He nodded. “Of what? My reaction?” He nodded again in answer to your question, and you were rendered speechless.

“Yes and no? I’m afraid our bubble will no longer exist. It has been good. There has been no pressure to attend parties and pretend to enjoy conversations with people I despise with you by my side. I like being Jimin, your Jimin, not my family or money’s Jimin.”

“If you’re scared of what I’m going to think, this is not going to change what I think about you. I’ve gotten to know you pretty well, and I lov…” you paused, biting your lip, but decided to continue. “I love who you are, Jimin. You care about me, you care about everyone in that hospital, differently from any other man in a suit that has been around. You are thoughtful, kind, and sensitive. I… I love you, Jimin. Even if I don’t know your last name because it comes attached with pressure and probably an insane amount of money, I still love the person that you’ve shown me.”

For what seemed like an eternity, he just stared at you. In his mind, he was taken back to the conversation with Jungkook, reminding how he said he did not love you, that you were not there yet. But looking at you like this, the soft moonlight sneaking in through the partially open window shutters, what seemed like a glow around your body enhanced by the dimmed reading lamp by the bedside table, your cheeks still flushed with pleasure, your hair in disarray, he realized he would not want to be anywhere nor with anyone else but you. His heart pounded in his chest and it was almost as if he could feel it enlarge upon the realization of what he truly felt for you. He brought you closer to his body, kissing you deeply, leaving you out of breath once more.

“I love you, my Daisy.” He confessed in between small kisses on your cheeks, on your forehead, tip of the nose and eyelids, hugging you tight against him. “I’m scared of losing this, of losing you. But you are right, you need to know. I come from money, a lot of money. And when I say a lot, it’s probably more than what you’re imagining. As in this yacht party is nothing, one yacht is nothing really financially speaking, for both my family and my friends’.”

You nod, understanding some; he was sure, you could probably not imagine, but all you cared about was that this would not change what you had and how you felt for each other. You felt warm in his embrace, both body and heart.

“So… Now that I know, can I finally see your place? I’m pretty sure my neighbors are about to start a petition to evict me for all the noises at night…”

He chuckled, lighthearted and feeling free from some of the things that he had been hiding. There were still some details that he chose to omit, but he did not think they were so relevant at the moment. The way your bodies moved with the laughter started to have an effect on him and that he was not able to hide from you.

“How about we give them a true reason to complain?” He asked, pressing his hips against yours, and your laughter died with a moan.

You could barely wait until your shift was over to get home and relax before getting yourself ready for Jungkook’s party. You had come to know him a bit from the time he spent in his mother’s room at the hospital, especially after you found out he was a friend of Jimin’s. But now you were finally going to meet Jimin’s other friends, the ones he mentioned only by name, get to know more about his life and who he was when he was not with you and at the hospital.

You were nervous, knowing the party was in a yacht, and deep down you were scared that the people around him would judge you and him for being with you. He had told you not to worry, that he would be by your side the entire time, and that he was proud to be dating you. You only had to get to the yacht and meet him, and then everything would be alright with him by your side.

“What are you doing?” Your colleague asked upon seeing you looking at Jimin. She had sat down by your table at the cafeteria and you quickly made eye contact with Jimin, trying to signal to him before he came by your table, as you were still keeping your relationship under wraps at the hospital.

“What? Nothing. Just eating my lunch.” You shifted your gaze to your food, avoiding looking in his direction again.

“Girl, get out of your mind. He’s hot, but he is way out of your league. Don’t even dream about it,” she laughed, as if the idea was absurd. “You do know who he is, don’t you?”

You shook your head, pretending not to know, as if you were just admiring him from afar with a crush.

“That’s Park Jimin. From the Parks, you know, owners of the King’s Conglomerate and owners of this fucking hospital.”

To say shock came across your face would not have been enough. Park Jimin?

“You mean as in Mr. Park, the chairman Mr. Park?” You felt a tremor run through your body, a foreign feeling taking over as you learned the entire truth. So that was what he had been hiding from you.

“Yeah, that is his son. He’s been going around the hospital, shadowing his dad and looking at how everything works. I’m pretty sure he might take over soon, the man is surely getting old.”

“I… I had no idea.” You raised your head to look at him, but he was nowhere to be found.

This would not change things. You understood why he had omitted this information, and you had to admit to yourself that although this had the potential to change your relationship, you would fight to not let it happen. Everything had been working out fine. Everything would work out fine.

Jimin was anxious. The party had started, people mingling, drinking, not so subtle glances as the night started to progress. Daisy was about to arrive and he could not wait until he introduced her to the other guys. He kept looking at his phone and around the entrance, her text saying she was waiting for the transportation to the yacht still open. When he looked around again, he was met with Choi Hyuna, smiling and waving discreetly before approaching him. He sighed, thinking that he had been stalling for too long, he needed to tell her about Daisy and end the arrangement, no matter what his parents thought.

“Hi, Jimin,” she said with a wide smile still on her lips, hand clutching her purse tightly.

He nodded with a polite smile, and averted his gaze to search for Daisy again, and Hyuna could not help but notice the motion.

“Expecting someone?” She asked, a soft voice pretending confusion.

“Ah, yes… you’re probably going to meet her tonight, and you and I will have to discuss some things regarding our parents’ wishes.” He began, looking at Hyuna, but missing the way she tightened her fingers around her bag.

“Is everything okay? Who am I going to meet, Jimin? It’s not that nurse you've been seen around the hospital with, is it?” Her voice expressed her surprise and discontent, not being able to hide everything from him.

It was Jimin’s turn to be shocked; he thought he had been careful enough, avoiding people’s eyes, but he should have figured they were not as discreet as he thought. Well, he was one to strike other people’s attention, being who he was, so of course someone had seen him with Daisy.

“That’s her, her name is Y/n.”

“I didn’t want to be the one to break the news to you and here of all places, but I found some shady stuff about her, and if she really is coming, I think it’s for the best that you know this now, let’s go somewhere quieter.” Her acting was on point, convincing Jimin to go with her to a room. When they got there, she continued. “I was at the hospital earlier today looking for you, I know how much time you’ve been spending there, when I noticed something and talked to this other nurse who works there. He let me know some things have been missing, Jimin, meds.” She paused and opened her purse, taking some folded pieces of paper and handing it to him.

He grabbed them, unfolding, and it took him a moment to understand what he was seeing. They were copies of ID logs, schedules, reports on missing meds on carts. He was confused, your signature on some of the documents were not out of place, but he had to gather his strength not to crumple the papers when Hyuna continued.

“Look at the reports and her schedule. It’s too much of a coincidence that those meds suddenly disappeared just when she had her shift on that floor, is it not? And she even dared sign some of those herself! I’m sorry, but she must not be that smart, huh? That’s a crime, Jimin, and you as the future chairman of the hospital need to do something about it. Her colleague will probably make a formal complaint soon enough, he said he would try to talk to her, maybe she has an addiction no one knows about and can get her help…”

Jimin closed his eyes, his heart shattering into innumerous pieces inside his chest. He started shaking with heavy breaths, as pulling air into his lungs seemed like a herculean task. He let the papers fall onto the floor, not caring about them, clutching his hand to his chest, trying to dig into his skin to cradle his fragile heart.

“She must have known she could get more access and get away with it being with you for who you are.” Hyuna’s voice was muffled in his ears, and he signaled for her to leave him alone, not sure if words came out of his mouth, but he heard the door closing.

He didn’t know how long he was there, at some point he dropped to his knees, hands on the floor and hair in disarray; his entire body shaking as if he was cold, a foreign sensation dominating his body. He could have sworn he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket a handful of times, but he didn’t have the strength to look at it.

He heard his name being called, a familiar voice entering the room and closing the door, and he had to clench his teeth to gather whatever energy he had in him to deal with the situation. To deal with you and your betrayal.

You entered the room and saw him on his knees, closing the door quickly to get to him, worried about his state. Someone had let you know where he was, and you went straight into the room.

“How long have you known who I am?” It was the first thing he asked, not looking at you, when you lowered your body in front of him.

“What? I know you’re Jimin, just Jimin, remember? You told me that, but someone told me at the hospital today and I was going to talk to you about it soon but...”

“Today? How can you lie to me after I told you I loved you?” He shook his head, disbelief in his voice.

“I only knew what you told me, another nurse saw me looking at you at the cafeteria, remember the woman who was with me during lunch?”

“What are you on right now?” He finally looked at you, his eyes squinting with anger.

“What are you talking about? Jimin…” You were confused, as if you were having two different conversations.

“Or maybe you’re not on anything, you just sell it, is that it?” He got up slowly, grabbing your arm and taking you with him in the process, making you get up as well.

“I’m confused…” You tried to talk, but he interrupted you abruptly, letting your arm go as if your skin was burning his.

“When did you decide to use me and my family to get away with your problems?”

“I…”

“You know what, I don’t want to know. You broke my heart and my trust with this, I never should have trusted someone whose money…”

“Whose money what, Jimin? You told me it didn’t matter. I certainly don’t care nor want your or your family money. What did I do? I don’t understand!” You exclaimed, frustrated, confused, tears starting to fall from your eyes, his words piercing you.

He silently grabbed the scattered papers from the floor, thrusting them into your hands with force, and you looked at them. How did he have a copy of your schedule? And those signatures, they looked similar, but you did not remember touching any of those documents before. And the missing meds reports… and it suddenly started to dawn on you, but what he said next still shocked you to your core.

“Don’t you dream about stepping foot into the hospital again. If you dare show up next shift, I’ll have you arrested and sued for so much money your little mind can’t even begin to wrap around it,” he spit out, venom in his words, so different from the kind man you knew. “Now get out of here. I don’t want to ever see you again.”

You stood there without any reaction, the impact of his words freezing your body into place while you tried to fully understand the situation. You had nothing to do with those papers, but when you opened your mouth to attempt an explanation, he interrupted you again.

“Don’t worry, I’ll have someone drop whatever you have in your locker. Tell me, will we find shit there too? Or are you too smart to risk it? And how the fuck did you hide this from me?”

“Jimin, I…” you started, shaking your head, but he didn’t let you continue. He opened the door abruptly, turned his back on you and walked towards a security guard, pointing to you inside the room.

You let your tears fall free as you ran towards the same corner from which you entered the yacht, ready to leave, still confused as to who would do this to you. But it didn’t matter, did it? Jimin chose his side, and it was certainly not yours.

As you were getting ready to exit the boat, you were leaving him behind. You were leaving your hope. You were leaving your job. You were leaving your sweet memories with him on the water. You were leaving all the past months, buried in a pile of lies and you had no idea how far they went, how far someone was going to get you away from Jimin. You were leaving your heart, destroyed, stepped on, bleeding, in that room alongside those papers.

And somewhere on that yacht the love of your life was seeking that someone, also leaving behind memories of you.

“Hyuna,” Jimin started, looking at the woman when he finally found her again. He took a deep breath, resigning himself to accept his family plans for him. “We should announce our engagement soon.”

--

taglist: @veronawrites @oftenderweapons-a-companion

Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it ♥

[jilytho]

strangers in a bar

Happy Jilytober!!!! "speaking of mothers, fancy becoming one?" cocky James meets Lily in a bar

Read below or on AO3

Longest day of work. Followed by the longest train ride. Followed by pushing through a throng of thousands of people seemingly with all the time in the world when she was already twenty five minutes late to meet Mary for a drink. All topped off with a venmo and message from Mary right as she was finally sitting down on a barstool ordering her wine.

Sorry love, just got a massive order, going to be here all night. Have a glass of vino on me!

Lily rejected the venmo immediately, of course. Mary’s bakery had just got off the ground and Lily knew how important orders were for her at that stage and there was no need to take her money. She’d drink her wine and get home in time for Bake Off reruns, not a bad day all in all. She signaled the bartender to close out her tab afterall and opened up Bumble. If she was going to sit here alone, might as well swipe on some potential matches.

“He’s a loser.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“He’s a loser.” the man repeated, shifting fully to face her, leaning his side against the bar. She hadn’t noticed him before but he must have been sitting somewhere along the bar.

“Who is?”

His glass was empty and even as his body was turned towards hers, his eyes remained focused on the bartender, signaling towards his glass and nodding towards her near empty one as well. It wasn’t until the bartender had nodded back to him and begun to grab bottles that he turned to look into her eyes. Dark hazel, thick tortoise frames, tousled hair, beautifully chiseled jaw.

“Whatever sorry tosser left you sitting here on a barstool all by your lonesome.”

“What exactly makes you think I’m here because of a boy? Can’t a girl just go get a drink by herself?” she wrapped her fingers around the newly filled wine glass and avoided eye contact, taking a sip.

“I’ll make you forget his name”

She spluttered into her drink and looked at him incredulously but he held her gaze steadfast, unwaveringly confident.

“You’re pretty presumptuous, aren’t you?”

“I prefer the term confident.”

“Mmmm a narcissist's favorite excuse.”

“You know what they say about narcissists,”

“That they’ll never love another more than they love themselves?”

He scoffed, “Sure, or that it typically doesn’t come unearned.”

“Not only is that literally not a saying but what I have heard is that lying to yourself can be even worse than narcissism. Causes premature wrinkles.”

“Please, look at us. Barely a wrinkle between the pair.”

“That’s because I’m honest. Never told a lie.”

“Now is that so?”

“Yep.” She punctuated the p sharply, smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she leaned back in her chair.

“So now if I were to ask if you were attracted to me, you’d have no choice but to tell me the truth,” he leaned in closer, eyes sparkling down at her.

“Now see, I don’t lie,” she dropped her voice to a whisper and leaned in closer, “but my mother also taught me that if I don’t have anything nice to say, I shouldn’t say anything at all. So perhaps it’s better if I bite my tongue on that one.”

He laughed earnestly, warmly, head thrown back in a way that filled her with immediate satisfaction, warmth spreading across her chest.

“Wow. Beautiful, clever, and cruel. You really were made for me, weren’t you? C’mon now, loosen that quick tongue for just a second. Tell me what you really think.”

She leaned back in her chair and made a show of looking him up and down, eyes slowly trailing his entire figure. He practically loomed over her as he remained standing, leaning closer and closer down over her seated figure. And damn if he wasn’t ridiculously fit. And exactly her type. Dark blue button down tight across his shoulders, sleeves sinfully rolled up to his elbows, seamlessly pressed grey trousers.

“Well, if I were to speak purely objectively,” he leaned in closer and nodded.

“You’re pretty fit.” His entire face lit up, pleased and smug, whole body shifting slightly closer to her as she leaned in closer. “Shame about the personality, though. Really ruins the whole vibe.”

He threw his hands over his heart and winced, “You wound me, deeply.”

“You asked! Don’t ask for the truth if you can’t take it, another lesson from my mother.”

“Well you can blame my mother for my inability to take criticism. While yours taught you sensible things like to only say the nicest and most truthful and deeply hurtful things, mine taught me that I had invented and then hung the moon and therefore the rest of the world existed because and for me.”

“Poor woman, she must have been deluded early on. A face only a mother could love and what not.”

“Prefer to think it’s the ‘what not’ part of it all. Speaking of mothers, fancy becoming one?”

She choked on her drink. He patted halfheartedly in between her shoulders - and no she did not notice how his hand was so big it spanned practically completely across her shoulders and why is that even attractive? - and passed her a napkin.

“I don’t mean tonight, of course, if that’s what you’ve stopped breathing over,” his pats turned to a light rub along her back. “I just thought maybe you’d like some additional practice.”

Her eyes narrowed as she regained control over her breathing and she twisted in her chair, forcing his hand to drop off her back, immediately missing the contact.

“I don’t go home with presumptuous and cocky boys.” Her words were biting, although traitorous butterflies were still running rampant in her stomach from their brief point of contact.

“Well, do you go to dinner with them?” His tone turned polite, mild even, as if they were discussing the weather and he hadn’t just offered to father a child with her. “Or maybe lunch or coffee? Coffee might be more the cocky guy from the bar date but really I’m partial to dinner.”

“Are you pleased with this turn of conversation?” she spat through gritted teeth, “Seriously, are you happy with how you’ve handled this?”

“I’m talking to you so I’m happy. And I’m happy I said whatever I said that gave you this lovely flush you have now,” his finger traced up from her neck to brush her cheek lightly as if tracing the blush, sending tingles shooting down her spine.

He caught her eye and her mouth went dry. Deep hazel, flickered with gold, filled with something that looked eerily close to hunger.

“I’m James, by the way. I feel like we might be on a first name basis now that I’ve asked you to join me for essentially every kind of meal.”

“Charmed, really,” she waved two fingers towards the bartender until he nodded in acknowledgement and moved to pour her another drink and ignored the traitorous conscience in the back of her brain screaming that she was only meant to be here for one.

“This is usually when you’d tell me your name, if you’re new to this,” he had leaned down to whisper the words in her ears, hot breath on her ear, one inch closer and his lips would be on her.

She chewed on her lip momentarily, hearing Mary’s voice screaming louder and louder in her head about letting loose as it spoke over the whispering voice of her mother reminding her that this was a strange man.

“Evans. Lily Evans,” she spoke into her drink and took a deep swig.

“Evans. I like it.”

She scoffed at him, eyes narrowing in on him instantly, “so glad you approve.”

“I do, really. Lily Evans. Rolls off the tongue, truly. But you know what might sound even better?”

He sat down on the barstool next to her now - finally, a voice in her head whispered as they were now perfectly aligned eye to eye - and tugged it closer to sit closer to her own. She tilted her head slightly, silently requesting he continue.

“Potter. Lily Potter.”

Her eyes narrowed instantly, “and I suppose Potter is what, the name of a good friend of yours?”

“I do consider my father a good friend so yes, I suppose in a way.”

“Dinner, a child, marriage. You’re really willing to commit to living a full life with a random girl in a bar. For all you know I could be a murderer. A serial killer. A lying, nefarious, arsonist with a family in three different counties wreaking havoc and crime along the countryside.” His eyes never wavered from hers as she ranted, crinkling in the corners, drinking her in and practically sparkling.

“What can I say, Miss. Evans, I trust my gut. And my gut says that if you truly are a lying, nefarious, philandering woman with likely multiple warrants out for her arrest, well then I guess I’ll be the Clyde to your Bonnie.”

Their heads were barely two inches apart, she could feel the warmth of his breath as his hand ghosted along to cover her own that rested on the bartop.

“Alright then, Clyde.” The words came out as a faint whisper, “You’ll probably be needing my number then. To organize our crime spree and what not.”

His grin overtook his face, eyes somehow turning more beautiful as they sparkled at her, “and what not, yes I think that’s for the best.”

She turned away from him and reached into her purse fishing out a pen, not allowing herself to think through her actions or words for another second, lest she hesitate. She scribbled her number on a paper coaster and stood up before turning to look at him, just barely taller than him for the first time that night. He sat there, perfectly patient, quieter than he had been all night.

She passed the coaster to him wordlessly, a fresh blush flaming up the back of her neck as his hand brushed hers to take the coaster and held her hand, not letting her pull back just yet. “It’s been a pleasure, Bonnie.”

“Likewise, Clyde.”

She squeezed his hand once before slipping away and out the door without another look, knowing that just seeing his face again would make her go back and go home with him that night instead of waiting for his call.

She had walked two doors down from the bar when her phone began to vibrate in her purse. She fished it out and pressed it against her ear while hailing a cab, assuming it was Mary checking in.

“Hello?”

“Go to dinner with me tomorrow night, Bonnie.” She almost dropped her phone in surprise at the deep voice that was decidedly not Mary.

“Don’t know,” She croaked out, “I thought coffee was the more appropriate meal for a cocky stranger in a bar.”

He chuckled lightly, “Maybe. But we’re not really strangers anymore are we? I even know your name now.”

“Alright then,” she breathed out as a cab pulled up, “dinner it is. It’s a date.”

She hung up without hearing his reply, swinging herself into the cab. She looked down at her phone’s call log, considering saving his contact when a Bumble alert came through with a match.

She didn’t hesitate, without looking at the match she deleted the app entirely.

[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning into Stone, Chapter 3

A/N As promised, Jamie returns in this chapter.  He has an appointment to keep, after all.   Because I can’t think of anything more creative, this chapter is entitled “Second Appointment”.  For previous chapters, your best bet is to check out the story on my AO3 page.

The week both crept and flew past, like one of those dreams in which she ran until her lungs burned, but never managed to get anywhere.  Kinetic motion trapped in amber.   Claire never did tell Geillis about her excursion to Corstorphine Hill over the weekend, embarrassed by how it had ended.  

And now it was Thursday.  She’d opted for a protein smoothie for lunch, a meal with no chance of leaving leafy residue between her teeth.  It was likely wasted vanity.  As two o’clock drew near, she bargained with herself to abandon any hope she may be harbouring.  Jamie Fraser had shown no interest in participating in the psychiatric process during his first appointment.  Fraternal obligation had brought him to her office once, but he didn’t strike her as a man who yielded the reins of his life easily.  It wasn’t likely he would return.

When it came his distinctive knock, crisp and insistent, caught her unawares, even though she’d just been staring at his name in her planner.  She hastily pushed the items on her desk to one side, patted uselessly at her curls, and called out for him to enter.

“Good afternoon, Doctor Beauchamp,” he greeted cautiously.  “Miss Duncan told me tae come straight in.”

There was something different about him today.  His clothing, certainly.  Instead of casual wear, he wore trousers and a button down, wet splotches over the shoulders attesting to the fact that it had begun raining again.  And while he still took up an inordinate amount of space in her small office, he seemed... diminished, somehow.  A paler echo of the fireworks display of his first visit.

“Of course.  Please have a seat, Mister Fraser.”

“Jamie, if you will,” he corrected as he settled gingerly into the armchair.  “Mister Fraser was my Da.”

Something about his tone and the fact his laser blue eyes wouldn’t meet her own as he spoke the words caused her to lean into his statement.

“Did your father pass away recently, Jamie?”

A moment, an indrawn breath of panic, and then it was cleverly masked with a wry glance.

“Aye, last year.  An’ yer no’ very subtle, doctor.”

“I didn’t realize subtlety was called for,” she parried.  “You made another appointment, and I specialize in grief counselling.  Why else would you be here?”

Despite the fact that it wasn’t productive from a psychiatric point of view, she enjoyed his reluctance to hastily expose his inner demons.  Too often, her practice required her to work carefully in order to avoid shaping the pliable emotions of her patients.  While obviously hurting, Jamie had an unflinching, unalterable quality that she admired.  Not to mention that the intellectual game of cat and mouse they were playing was wildly stimulating.

“I suppose I enjoyed our conversation,” Jamie teased.  “An’ Miss Duncan’s shortbread.”

With an awkward squint that she imagined was meant to be a wink, her patient rose to investigate the current offerings on her tea table.

“Och, petit fours!” he exclaimed with childlike glee and perfect French pronunciation.  “There was a café none too far from my flat in Paris tha’ made these.  I’d often grab some on my way tae the office.”

He returned to the desk with a small plate of the pastries, pushing it towards her as he settled into his seat.

“No, thank you.  I’ve just eaten.”

Like a searchlight, his bright eyes didn’t miss much.  He glanced significantly at the half-empty plastic smoothie container to one side of her desk.  Rather than chide her for her austerity, as Geillis frequently did, he instead made a show of biting into each of the four little squares until there was nothing left but crumbs.  Her stomach muttered in complaint.

“What did you do in Paris?” she asked as he finished his snack with a contented sigh.

“Oh, a wee bit of this and that,” he demurred.  In response to her exasperated look, he continued, “I started out at the Bourse.  Futures, options, arbitrage, that sort of thing.  I have a good ear fer languages, sae from there I went into foreign exchange.  Import export, and the like.”

“You’re a financier?” she asked, somewhat more incredulous than she ought to be.  She wasn’t certain what she had pictured James Fraser doing for a living, but greasing the wheels of capitalism definitely wasn’t it.

“Was,” he corrected.  “I quit an’ came home tae Scotland last year.”

“When your father died,” she guessed.

“Aye.”

She once again had the sense of standing in front of a locked door that Jamie had no intention of opening.  Rather than hammer uselessly on its stubborn surface, she nimbly diverted the conversation sideways.

“What do you do for work now?”

A slow blink followed by a dawning smile indicated he was aware of her stratagem.

“I’m a carpenter.”

It was rare for Claire to be truly surprised by people.  She made a living reading their unspoken cues.  Twice in the same conversation was unheard of.

“A carpenter?” she repeated as though she hadn’t heard him perfectly well the first time.

“Aye.  Like Jesus, ye ken?”

With a quicksilver grin, Jamie launched into a description of his current occupation, which involved the making of reproduction antiques and custom pieces for clients around Scotland.  She realized with a start that she’d read an article about his business in a popular local magazine.  

International financier.  Self-made entrepreneur.  Tall drink of water.  James Fraser had a lot of things going for him.  And yet here he sat, paying her by the hour to listen to him avoid talking about whatever hardship had befallen him.

She mentally composed a list of the topics he was deftly avoiding with his charming anecdotes.  His father’s recent death.  The reason behind a radical change in career.  Living in the city on account of unspoken ‘family obligations’, even though his verbal reminiscence of the Highlands was so poetic it damn near made her cry.  There was something raw just below the surface of his nonchalance, and her innate curiosity cried out to find out what it was.

“You told me last week that your sister, Jenny, insisted you attend counselling.  But you said that you’re handling matters fine on your own.  Can you tell me why your sister believes otherwise?”

It might have been amusing to see such a large man squirm in different circumstances.  His left hand furrowed through his hair, setting the autumn waves on end.  His mouth, so recently relaxed and mobile as he eagerly shared the details of his craft, froze in a pained frown.  She considered whether she had pushed too hard too soon.

“I gave a lot of thought tae what ye said when we parted last week,” Jamie began at last.  “Tae be honest, it haunted me.  Jen kens me better than anyone, an’ while I like tae complain tha’ she meddles where she doesna belong, the truth is she’s truly scared fer me.  An’ even if I dinna agree tha’ my lifestyle is cause fer concern, I owe it tae her tae try tae sort myself out.  I owe her far more than that,” he finished with a rueful shake of his head.

“What kind of lifestyle has your sister so worried?” she probed.

“Whisky, women and song,” he quipped, before adding, “Weel, I canna carry a tune, but twa out of three isna half bad.”

He tried to smile away the awkward tension that descended on the office, the air ripe with unspoken words.  Claire felt disappointment whirlpool in her gut.  Just another charming rake, after all.  It really shouldn’t matter, and yet somehow it did.  More than she dared to admit.

“Yes, well, the road of excess leads to the palace of consequences, ” she sniffed at last, angry at herself for sounding like a schoolmarm.  What a bore she must seem to him, with her regimented behaviour and rigid morals.

Jamie rose abruptly, and for a half-second she imagined he might lunge at her, or storm from the room.   Instead, he spun around to face the door.  Without a word, he untucked his shirt and began to expose his lower back.

Claire was momentarily stunned silent.  Just as she managed to draw a deep enough breath to censure Jamie for his highly inappropriate strip tease, the golden velour of his lower back transformed without warning into a furrowed landscape of scar tissue, ripples and craters left by some massive trauma.  The air left her lungs on a questioning sigh.

“I ken all about consequences, Doctor Beauchamp,” he stated.  “I live with them every moment of my life.”

Her fingers found the knotted skin, surprisingly warm and mobile beneath her touch.  A shiver shimmered over the unmarred muscle of his flanks.

Before she could find any appropriate words of apology, the office door opened and Geillis stuck her head in.  She barked a cough upon seeing Jamie’s state of undress and Claire’s position, leaning across her desk.  Doctor and patient jumped apart like opposing magnets.

“Sae sorry for the interruption, but yer three o’clock is here.  Should I tell her ye’ve been... delayed?”

Jamie muttered an obscenity under his breath which Claire whole-heartedly seconded.  There was no way Geillis wasn’t going to be utterly insufferable about this.

“Mister Fraser was just leaving, Geillis.”

With a lewd wink and a nod, the door closed.

“Look, Jamie...” she began just as he apologized.  “I’m sae sorry, lass.”

They both laughed nervously.  Jamie finished tucking his shirt into his pants and turned to face the desk.

“I hope this willna cause ye any difficulties with Miss Duncan,” he began, eyes wide with concern.

“No more so than usual,” she sighed. “Geillis is a good friend.  She just... doesn’t know when to quit, sometimes,” she explained.

“Sounds jus’ like my sister.  Perhaps we should introduce them.”

She smiled, struggling to find something else to say to move past the moment.  She could hear Geillis and her next patient conversing just outside the door.  There was no time left for subtlety.

“Will I see you again next week, Jamie?” she asked, giving up on finding a more oblique way of phrasing the question that was reverberating through her mind.

Jamie’s bashful smile dipped towards the floor, causing his hair to fall in front of his eyes.

“Aye.  I’ll even keep my clothes on, if ye ask nicely.”

It was that smile, that hair, those eyes, that carried her through the rest of her week, aloft on the anticipation of something utterly forbidden.

[mc-lukanette]

Marinette couldn’t stand herself sometimes, particularly with her own logic. She should’ve known that there was no realm of possibility where she would’ve agreed to a date with Luka and then walked away from it like it was nothing, yet she’d done worse and gone on multiple dates with him, one of which she was on at that very moment.

She rubbed her face as she walked along the sidewalk, mentally scolding herself all the while. Luka deserved better than this - better than her - yet she kept indulging him because of how much she selfishly loved him.

She was partway to groaning into her hands when she remembered that Luka was walking next to her. She lowered her fingers just enough to peek at him, seeing that he was staring at her with a concerned gaze.

Ashamed at having been caught, she looked away from him. "S-sorry. I was… thinking. You didn’t do anything."

She knew he was smiling reassuringly from his tone as he replied, "It’s okay."

Except it wasn’t okay, and there was no real way out of it besides—

Marinette fidgeted, growing uncomfortable. They were just talking a simple walk along the Seine, and yet she’d made it awkward by being unable to keep her emotions inside. She wasn’t going to get anywhere that way.

Steeling herself up, she stopped walking and turned to him, a firm, "Luka," coming out of her mouth before she cut herself off. He’d stopped alongside her to listen, but she sighed and opted to step away instead, taking a seat at the edge of the Seine. It reminded her of the time she’d had ice cream next to him while he played her a song.

Not that he’d remember it anyway, but she believed it was for the best.

"...Ugh," she groaned, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead, "you probably wouldn't believe me."

He walked over, sitting beside her and humming in thought. "You don't know how a note will sound until you hear it."

She shook her head, but knew without looking that he honestly wanted to hear what she had to say, provided that she wanted to tell him. He’d always been like that, which made it easy to love him but hard to hide anything.

Looking around, making sure no one was nearby, she finally let herself give in. She slumped and stared down at her lap, clasping her hands together anxiously as she explained, "I...I have a miraculous; the miraculous of the rabbit." She glanced over at him without turning her head, gauging his reaction. When he didn’t show anything significant, she continued, "It’s not really used for battle, but rather for time travel."

"Time travel?" he echoed, his voice entirely neutral, merely absorbing and not disbelieving.

"Yeah." She fidgeted, then turned towards him, unclasping her hands to settle one of them between him and herself. "Luka, before Adrien introduced us... you don't remember meeting me, do you?"

His eyes went wide. "I met you before? Marinette, I'm sorry—"

"No," she interrupted. "It makes sense that you wouldn't."

He blinked, confused.

"That was another time; another timeline. We actually met a long time ago, back when we were teenagers. We were friends, and—you really, really liked me." She smiled at the memory, but it quickly turned back into a frown. "I was into Adrien though. I was stupid, and it took me years to figure it out. You were the one who told me that I was clear as a music note, sincere as a melody, and it made me feel so warm inside to hear it, but then I just... didn't do anything and didn't realize how I was feeling. I felt terrible once I finally got it, because I really liked you but I didn't deserve you. You'd been hurting all that time because we were so close and I still went after Adrien anyway."

Unable to look at his shocked expression anymore, she turned away from him, continuing, "That's why I knew I'd probably hurt you again. If I did it once, I'd probably do it again, so… I went back in time to tell myself not to meet you - to stay away - because I was sure your life would be better off without me. If Adrien hadn't made us meet up, I'd probably still be avoiding you."

The idea hurt, just as did the idea of not seeing him again after the night was over. Still, she forced the rest of the words out. "Just—you deserve to know all that, Luka. Please understand, it might be for the best that we not meet up again."

The silence was chilling, combining with the night air to make her shiver. She shifted, waiting to hear something - anything - like Luka speaking or getting up, but there was nothing. She began to turn towards him, hesitated, then turned fully against her better judgment.

Luka was staring at her quietly, looking both dazed and thoughtful at the same time. She tried to discern exactly what he was thinking about, but couldn’t get a read on him due to all of her nerves.

It was over, she figured.

She pulled out her phone and faked skimmed through it "...O-oh, um, wow!" she shouted forcibly. "Look at that! I’m late for my ten o'clock howling-at-the-moon session!" She stood up, lightly smacking the side of her head with her free hand. "See? I’m crazy! I better—"

He grabbed her hand before she could move away. She winced, her fingers twitching on the hand he was holding. Chewing her bottom lip, she felt his gentle tug wordlessly urging her to sit back down. After a few seconds of internal debate, she relented, returning to her original spot and putting her phone back in her purse.

When she eyed his expression again, he had his mouth covered by his hand and was staring up at the sky. His thoughts still weren’t obvious, but she wondered if maybe he was thinking back on old memories.

In hindsight, she hadn’t been subtle, as it was too easy to get lost in just enjoying her time with him without thinking about it. She’d known all of his favorite drinks and sweets without him telling her, she knew the layout of the Liberty like she’d been in there many times despite never stepping foot in there before - at least to his knowledge- and she hadn’t kept up the act of being "professional" around him for very long. Everyone knew that she wore her heart on her sleeve, so to hide it, and around the guy she loved?

Not possible.

Finally, Luka turned to her, making her go stiff. He was gentle when he spoke, however, with no animosity in his voice.

"Marinette, I have a lot in my head right now, and a whole song sheet's worth of things I want to say," he began, "but first..."

He reached out, lightly touching her chin. His eyes firmly locked with hers, he asked gingerly, "Can I kiss you?"

She gaped at him, going wide-eyed as she repeated his question in her head. Surely, he didn’t just—? She told him everything and he still…?

He continued looking at her patiently, even as every attempt to respond verbally just had her utter a small noise or two. She couldn’t comprehend his logic, but something in her took control enough for her to nod, giving him permission to lean in and press his lips against hers. She went rigid at first, too many doubts creeping up at once - she didn’t deserve this, why was he doing this, it didn’t make sense - but the feeling of his calloused hand against the back of her neck turned those doubts into a moan.

He took the moan as exactly what it is; an open invitation to continue. He leaned further in, Marinette having to adjust and keep one hand on the ground to balance herself. Eyes closed, her hand blindly reached out, touching his chest by accident before moving to his arm. He got what she was doing, his free hand rising to meet hers. Their fingertips brushed before they properly held hands, squeezing just slightly for effect.

Marinette was halfway into melting completely into the kiss when she realized exactly what was happening. She pulled her hand away from his, grabbing the fabric of his shirt and forcing him a small distance away. Her breathing was already heavy from the thrill of their contact, but she tried to remain calm so she could still speak up.

"I-I don’t…" She looked at him, managing a simple, "Why?"

He smiled warmly, placing a hand over the one gripping his shirt. "My life was fine, Marinette. I was happy enough with it, but... starting at the music festival, things were off. I couldn't remember you, but I felt like I was missing something. The picture Juleka had on her cupboard made me smile like an idiot and I kept thinking I was just that happy about her photo curse breaking. I'd hear your name and I didn't know who you were but it had such a nice ring to it: Ma, ma, Marinette~" He chuckled. "I'd gotten so used to the feeling of something missing from my life that it surprised me when you came in and I felt that feeling going away. I'm usually not that upfront about telling people that I want to know them more, but the idea of letting you go without saying anything hurt me."

She gaped at him for a good few seconds, then shook her head. "But... I hurt you? In the other timeline?"

"You mean by not being sure who you were in love with when you were just a teenager?" he asked. "And what did you do about it? Instead of getting together with me right then, you went back and changed time just so I'd never feel any heartbreak in the first place. You risked the timestream... for me."

"L-luka, it's not—" She blushed, starting to see what he meant.

"You don't understand, Marinette. No one's ever done anything for me like that. Of course no one would have the powers that you do, but people don't just think so much of me like that."

"B-but you deserve to be thought of?" she argued, genuinely confused that he would imply otherwise. "And—how are you not mad?"

"Mad? At you? Never." He reached back up to her face, caressing her cheek, which she couldn’t help leaning into. "I wish I'd met you sooner. I wish I could remember all those years I spent with you, even if I was hurting, but if the outro is me being here with you and getting to know just how much you really feel about me, then I wouldn't change a thing."

She swallowed, thoroughly overwhelmed and not sure how to deal with it. She’d had a dozen scenarios in her head about how he might react to the truth, but even her best case scenario didn’t involve him fully accepting it.

She stared down at the Seine, not speaking for about a minute before finally saying, "I’m sorry."

He went to interject, but she covered his mouth with her hand, giving him a meaningful look. His gaze softened and he removed his hand from her face, seeming to understand that she needed to say what was on her mind.

She took a breath. "I… I know you don't have regrets, but I shouldn't have made decisions without you. I shouldn't have spent so much time fretting and worrying about everything when it should've been so simple. I reset time and, instead of insisting that you were the right choice all along, I went for the punishment of telling myself to never meet you and it left both of us feeling different kinds of empty." Her heart ached at the memory. "So… I promise I won't do anything rash like that again. It’s just—I wish I could make up for it somehow."

He nodded in understanding, taking both of her hands in his. "I don’t think you have to make up for anything." He chuckled as she pouted, then he continued, "but, if it'll bother you that much if you don't..."

She straightened, nodding her head eagerly at him. She’d do anything for him and she didn’t care what it was, so long as it would help make up for what she did.

"I can think of one thing," he confirmed. One of his hands released hers to move up to her face, his thumb brushing across her lips. His eyes glinted playfully as he added, "Two if you don't mind showing me what you were about to do with your tongue earlier."

She needed no further prompting.

[salty-ironstrange-shipper]

May I has moar cherik fic recs please??

damn, y’all are GREEDY for cherik fics .... I, of course, have more, but damn

as usual, in order of shortest to longest

Brandished Steel, Wicked Rook

Words: 1,057

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Charles’ bare skin is awash in flame and darkness as he lies there, hair splayed over his forehead and eyes as black as crow feathers, glistening. His lips are bright and wet and red. And he says, in his red way, “All hail, Macbeth.”

AU in which Erik and Charles are Macbeth and "Lady" Macbeth, respectively.

Inspired by both the original play and the film version of Macbeth (2015) directed by Justin Kurzel.

Opinion: This is a weird one because it’s very short and not something I would usually read - but at the same time, the dynamic and writing style and reference makes it feel like it was written for me specifically. Macbeth is my favorite Shakespeare play by far, and Fassbender is very good in the 2015 film. This fic makes me wish it was 60,000 words. If at some point I actually finish my current WIPs, I might force myself to write a long cherik Macbeth AU, and it would be incredibly self-indulgent, smutty, and morally grey/dark. Because I deserve it.

Spark Me Up

Words: 3,007

Rating: Explicit

Summary: "This is Erik raw. This is Erik lost. This is Erik looking at Charles like he is the only piece of wreckage in a vast ocean. The only star in the sky.

And such a look does things to Charles."

After ten years, they are both starving for each other.

Opinion: This one’s a little different. After years in solitary confinement (taking place in Days of Future Past), Erik is very touch-starved and he and Charles ..... get to touching. 

Erik is asexual in this fic and tagged as such, so if asexual characters participating is sexual acts is off-putting to you, maybe give this one a skip.

Never a Place

Words: 3,047

Rating: Teen and Up 

Summary: It takes some getting used to. Charles hasn’t seen Erik cheerful, actually cheerful without a homicidal intent of some sort in a very long time—perhaps never.

Or. Charles takes Erik up on his offer while trying to process everything. Erik is remarkably patient until he isn't.

Opinion: Erik and Charles in Genosha post-Dark Phoenix! Very cute!

You, you, you are what I want

Words: 4,803

Rating: Explicit 

Summary: "Erik was so sure Charles was interested in him as well that whenever the telepath backed away from him it felt extremely confusing."

Opinion: Got some trans!Charles Xavier and Erik being smitten. Always a good combo.

On a Beach, With You

Words: 6,495

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Charles Xavier meets Erik Lehnsherr on a beach in Israel.

Opinion: Charles and Erik meet, fall in love, and get married in like, 2 weeks. It’s cute, it’s fun, it’s well-written, the smut is good, and you kind of think to yourself “yeah normally getting married after knowing each other for so little time is a bad idea, but damn if I don’t think these two can make it”. Definitely worth a read!

Emissary Requiring Interplanetary Cooperation

Words: 15,584

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Charles is drunkenly wandering home one night when he sees a bright light in a field. To his delight, the cause of the light is a gorgeous alien in the form of a man with the biggest dick he's ever seen.

Opinion: Incredibly fun and cracky smut. Enjoy. I know I did ;)

Made To Be Broken

Words: 18,220

Rating: Explicit 

Summary: Charles makes a New Year's Resolution: “No more straight men,” Charles repeated as he began scrolling through the apartment directory for Emma’s name. “No more futility. No more pointless hoping and heartbreak. In 2013, I never want to hear the words ‘exception,’ ‘experimenting’ or ‘phase.’ If, God forbid, I hear ‘bicurious’ even once, I may take a hostage.”

Then he goes into the party, and Erik is there.

Opinion: This is one of those fics you read on a whim one night when you have nothing to do, but keep coming back to weeks after you finish it because it’s so. Damn. Good. Well-written. Shockingly emotional. Smutty. Interesting discussion of relationships and sexuality. I got caught up rereading my favorite parts while making this list. I love this fic and you will too, or else. 

A Wedding Planner Walks Into a Bar

Words: 19,451

Rating: Explicit

Summary: When Raven hires Erik to be the bartender at her wedding, he becomes quickly infatuated with the wedding planner, Charles Xavier, who he thinks is her fiancé.

Opinion: This one’s fun. A bit more chill than some of the others. Plus you have the classic idiots-in-love-don’t-realize-it-because-of-a-misunderstanding-that-could-be-easily-solved-but-won’t-be. 

We’ll Show Them All

Words: 19,529

Rating: Teen and Up 

Summary: Pacific Rim AU. Ten years later, the monsters are back, and newly-instated Marshall Charles Xavier needs to pull a team together to prepare for the coming war. That means finding his talented sister a Drift-compatible copilot -- even if that turns out to be his old flame Erik.

Opinion: This is one of those things that reminds me I need to watch Pacific Rim. It’s good if you haven’t though, and I’m proof of that. Erik and Charles are so angsty here but so in love. Plus, Raven content! Love that for us.

Five Nights In Nuremberg 

Words: 26,138

Rating: Explicit 

Summary: When Charles escapes from the mutant prison he has been held in for the last two years he knows that he’s going to need help to avoid being recaptured.

What he doesn’t expect is that help will come in the form of a mysterious German man who rescues Charles and takes him to his home; a handsome stranger who, frustratingly, doesn’t speak a single word of English…

Opinion: This one has potentially triggering content in the form of mutant camps and discrimination. Approach with caution. Otherwise, it’s very good.

Appropriate Boundaries

Words: 33,346

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Charles has been having serious problems with back cramps in the year and a half since he's been in a wheelchair. His doctor prescribes massage therapy. But when Charles meets his masseur, Erik, in some ways they begin to heal each other. So how do you cross the boundaries between professional touch -- and the personal?

Opinion: Erik and canon disabled Charles navigating sex and a relationship. It’s cute! It’s hot! It’s fun! It’s well-characterized! It’s emotional! I’m running out of words to describe these fics, I mean I wouldn’t be reccing them if I didn’t think they were good- 

April

Words: 56,225

Rating: Explicit

Summary: In the sharp, unforgiving plains of the Canadian Arctic, Erik is since long adapted to solitude and silence. Separated from civilization, dedicated to nothing but his research, he has formed a life that suits him. There is nothing he would ever want to change. So, naturally, the arrival of grad student Charles Xavier upends everything Erik ever thought he wanted, for better or for worse.

Opinion: Charles and Erik basically locked in a shack together with no one else for human contact?????? Internalized issues and homophobia?????? Fluff and angst???????? Yes???????

Thou Shalt Not East Stones

Words: 77,422

Rating: Not Rated 

Summary: Two months after Washington, Raven found Erik in a skeevy motel off the Florida interstate.

“They have Charles, Erik,” she said.

The bedframe shrieked. In the bathroom, the showerhead snapped in half and clattered into the tub.

Opinion: This one’s got everything. Humans being dicks. Protective Erik. Hurt Charles, and pissed-off Charles. Trauma recovery. Rebuilding a relationship. Love. Pain. Everything.

That’s all folks! No one ask me for more until at least after New Years, or I swear to Magneto, I will PUNT YOU

[blueaura]

Lost and Found Ch. 8

A/N: Hello again! This chapter is a little shorter than the last couple of chapters but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Thank you for the feedback on the last chapter, it means a lot. Also, I’m making a seperate tag list for people who would like to be tagged in all of my supernatural stuff (one shots, dabbles, other series etc.), so let me know if you want to get on that. Also, Also - if any of you have any requests for one-shots or the like, I’d love to do that. Thanks to everyone who’s read and re-blogged it this far. As always, any tips and suggestions are welcome. Feedback would be amazing. Thank you and happy reading!

Summary: Sam and Dean meet a young hunter who is a little rough around the edges and they reluctantly take her under their wing. But she might be a little more connected to them that any of them realise. 

Word Count: 1.8k

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8

To Dean it felt like it took forever.

He watched Cas’s hand glow as if he were healing her, not even daring to breathe. Sam stood beside his brother in support. Cas had his eyes closed in concentration. Dean was looking worriedly at Y/N but she didn’t look like she was in any pain. He trusted Cas with his life and knew he would never knowingly hurt Y/N, but worrying came naturally to him and he had to make sure she was safe. There was an instinct there that he was usually used to associating with just his brother.  

Cas had only wanted to see her soul but as soon as he put his hand on her, he was bombarded with her memories. Her thoughts, her pain, her experiences – they were so loud. He had never felt so crippled by a human mind before. He was surprised by the intense anger he felt on her behalf. The girl didn’t seem to harbour much anger herself – there simply wasn’t any place for it beneath the fear, uncertainty, loneliness and hurt. He saw her memories like he had once seen Dean’s when he pulled him out from hell. Once he was sucked in, he couldn’t get out until she let him even though he felt like he was somehow violating her privacy. But, if he ever had any doubt that there was a part of Dean Winchester in this girl, the burning determination underneath everything else would have been enough to remove it. Even without seeing her soul, shining as brightly as her father’s.

Y/N was expecting pain even after Cas assured her that there wouldn’t be any. What she was not expecting was the warmth. It felt like she was bundled in the softest blanket and nothing could hurt her as long as she stayed in the cocoon of that warmth. It was bright light and hope and love and like nothing she had ever felt before. She almost didn’t want to let it go but she could feel the sensation trying to pull away from her. She chased it until she couldn’t. She didn’t know how long had passed before she came back to Earth, so to speak.

Cas’s hand slid from her forehead down to her cheek momentarily.

“I’m sorry for the hard life you’ve had Y/N. You are truly an incredible human being and I vow to protect you to the best of my ability from here on. I shall not let any harm befall you.”

The intensity of his words surprised her but she didn’t say anything. Dean, on the other hand, balked at the words.

“Wait, what just happened?” he asked, looking from Cas to Y/N and back again.

“What’s with the vow of protection? Is this some kind of Twilight imprinting bullshit?!” Dean’s voice grew more hysterical with every word, making Y/N muffle a snort.

“Dude, why the hell do you even know what that is?” Sam asked incredulously. Dean ignored him in favour of glaring at his friend.

Cas turned away from Y/N to give Dean his best imitation of Sam’s bitchface.

“No, Dean. I didn’t imprint on your daughter. I can assure you I have no intention of mating with her,” Cas sarcastically dead-panned, which would have normally impressed and even amused Dean but his brain had stopped working at that moment.

Daughter. Daughter.

Fuck.

There was a ringing in his ears. He could hear Sam calling his name, could feel the weight of his hand shaking his shoulder, but everything was muffled – the only thing he could focus on was the fact that he had a fucking daughter.

Of course, he had known it was a possibility – that was the whole damn point of the angelic test, but now… it was real. He was a father. Just like that. In that moment – he fucking hated Sandra.

Sam would have loved to say that Dean reacted maturely and focused on Y/N and didn’t freak out at all, but father or not, he was still Dean Winchester. So, Sam wasn’t all that surprised when instead of making sure his daughter was alright, Dean stormed out in the direction of the shooting range, or so Sam assumed. He knew his brother and he knew that it was how he processed things. Working on his car or shooting stuff was Dean’s way of dealing with the news and Sam was just grateful that he didn’t choose to turn to the bottle instead.

He watched Dean walk off but instead of trying to reason with his brother, he turned towards the other person affected by the news. His niece (Holy shit, he had a niece) was frozen in place, her eyes not really focused on anything. Cas looked at him worriedly and Sam realised that Cas hadn’t meant to drop the news in such a way. He smiled at him reassuringly, and walked to where Y/N was still standing.

Instead of calling out to her, he gently guided her to the library and made her sit down on a chair. She didn’t react at her which didn’t necessarily surprise Sam but worried him nonetheless. Cas brought a glass of water from the kitchen and Sam quickly thanked him before setting it down on the table and kneeling in front of Y/N.

“Kiddo? Hey Y/N, are you alright?” he instinctively asked and winced. Of course, she wasn’t alright. Her entire world had just turned on its head.

“Y/N, you with me?” he tried instead.

She looked at him without really seeing him. He had to repeat the question a couple of times before he even saw a hint of acknowledgement in her eyes. He waited patiently until she finally shakily nodded her head.

Her throat was dry. She reached for the glass of water blindly. Sam quickly picked it up and placed it in her waiting hands, watching as she took small sips.

“Where’s…” she trailed off, sipping at the water again just to have something to do.

“Probably in the shooting range. He’s… processing. But I guess so are you,” he said uncertainly.

“You have a shooting range?” She was clearly avoiding the big elephant in the room, but Sam didn’t take the bait.

“I’ll show you later,” he dismissed the topic change expertly. “How are you holding up?”

“You mean after learning that my mother lied to me my entire life?” she spat out. Sam winced at the tone but ignored the hostility, only squeezing her shoulder in response. She deflated at the lack of a fight. He simply waited.

“I don’t know,” she said finally. “I wasn’t expecting… I know you were all but convinced but I wasn’t. San- my mother always gave me the impression that my father was dead. Until a few minutes ago, I didn’t even have distant relatives that I could call family. Now suddenly, I… I don’t know how to deal with that,” she said, frustration heavily lacing her voice.

Sam noticed the hesitation at her mother’s name and stored that little piece of information for later. His heart went out to her, it truly did.

“Look, I can’t even begin to imagine being in your position right now. Or Dean’s, for that matter. Hell, I’m still reeling from the fact that I have a niece, and I’m not even the one directly affected by this! So, I cant tell you how to feel or what to do. That’s up to you. What I can tell you is that you’re family now, Y/N. That word has way more weightage in this household than it probably does anywhere else. So, whatever you’re going through, you won’t be alone. I’m here, Cas is here and when he eventually gets over his little temper tantrum, Dean will be here too,” Sam smiled wryly.

Y/N chuckled a little even as emotion clogged her throat, shaking her head at Sam’s attempt at levity. She was suddenly pulled into the tightest hug by Sam, but this time she refused to cry. She’d had way too many breakdowns in the past few days and she’d ignore the stinging in her eyes and the burn in her throat if it was the last thing she did.

Instead, she sniffled into Sam’s plaid shirt, realising this was the second time in as many days that she was in this position. She chuckled at that, and instead of pulling away burrowed herself deeper into the comfort of the embrace.

Sam squeezed her tighter and kissed the top of her head. This was his niece. He was a fucking uncle! What did uncles even do? She was probably too old for toys. He also didn’t see much pranks in their future, at least for a little while. He could teach her he supposed. She clearly needed education and didn’t seem particularly thrilled about any form of formal institution. Yes, he would be the brainy uncle, who answered all the questions. He could do that.

Eventually, she pulled away. Seeing the hopeful expression on Sam’s face, she managed a weak smile at him, trying to tell him that she would be alright.

“I think I’m going to get some sleep and… process all of this. Let me know if De-Dean comes back soon,” she stumbled a little, not entirely sure what to call Dean anymore. Was ‘Dean’ inappropriate? It was way too soon for anything remotely in the ‘Dad’ ballpark. She put it away as a problem for later, not wanting to deal with the headache that accompanied thinking about her new family.

“Yea- yeah! No issues, kid. Get some rest. Dean will probably be a couple of hours. Cas already went to him earlier. He’s good at making Dean sort through things. I’ll probably head over there myself in a few,” he said assuredly.

“What’s up with that anyway?” she asked, her earlier curiosity making it harder for her to keep her mouth shut.

“What’s up with what?” Sam sounded confused.

“Cas and Dean?”

Understanding dawned on Sam’s face, immediately replaced with a look of long-suffering exasperation. Y/N giggled at that, making Sam smile subconsciously at the sound.

“If you ever figure it out, let me know,” he sighed and with a last kiss to her head, walked away.

Y/N shook her head and walked up to her room. She once again took stock of all the things that supposedly belonged to her. The mattress was the softest she’d ever slept on. She had her own freaking room. She had food to eat and clothes to wear and a couple of guys who cared more for her than what she thought she was worth.

Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t so bad.

TAGS: @vicmc624​ @carisi-sonny​ @zizzlekwum​ @geekqueen5​ @mondefantastique​ @lemondropirwin​ @hamildork​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @singingsongbird1318​ @strrynigxts​ @only-for-cee​ @now-its-time-to-get-funky

If anyone else would like to be tagged, please send me an ask (: Thanks for reading!

[masterjedilenawrites]

The Sniper and The Medic: Chapter 9

Starring: Crosshair, OC Joan Vo

Chapter Warnings: Some angst

Taglist: @proadhog @skippyhopperwisdom

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter >

Chapter 9: Insult to Injury

Crosshair had never been one to run from conflict. Whether it was with weapons, words, or something in between. Even though he hated it, he hated being ridiculed or attacked, he hated losing or feeling less than, he still embraced the fight. Oftentimes he even started one, just to get ahead of the inevitable confrontation.

This thing with Joan, though, he couldn't bring himself to face. He did everything he could to avoid her. Avoid seeing her, avoid thinking about her.... He managed to make it a whole week, but just barely. It was somehow a harder week than the one he'd spent without seeing her before. He'd liked her then; he'd had hope. Now all he had was his wound pride, and a little nagging voice in the back of his head that wondered if maybe he had overreacted.

But now there were only two days left before their training ended and their lives as soldiers began. And he had to see her. It was required.

He sat on the examination table, the same one he'd sat on all those weeks ago when he'd first met her. He had dreaded that moment, not knowing he'd be dealing with someone like her. Someone so kind and caring toward him and his brothers. Someone who was honest and fair and didn't take crap from anyone. Someone beautiful. He tried not to remember how he'd felt when he'd first seen her, and all the feelings he'd acquired since then. But his stomach churned in protest, the room containing too many memories to simply be ignored.

Doctor Joan strode into the room a few minutes late, wearing her full-length blacks and carrying a datapad. She plopped it unceremoniously onto the table next to him. He planned to not look at her, keep his gaze fixed on the opposite wall, and to not respond to any of her attempts at conversation, only offer short answers to any questions necessary for her final assessment. He expected her to either be upset by it, or just not care.

But instead, Joan was silent. He didn't see her move from his periphery, only stand with arms crossed looking at him with a very neutral expression. He wasn't normally bothered by silence, but this one eventually became unbearable.

He finally glared over at her, and she immediately spoke.

"How are you?"

He snapped his gaze back to the wall with pursed lips. Nope. He wouldn't give in.

"Crosshair."

Usually he'd have to fight to keep his heart steady when he heard her say his name. But she was mad, he could hear it in her voice. His name did not sound so sweet to hear now.

"I'm fine," he said, hoping that would shut her up despite knowing it wouldn't.

"You asked to see me last week," she regarded him with narrow eyes. "And then you blew it off. Hunter says you're busy but I know you're avoiding me. You are not fine. And unless you open up and tell me about it, I don't know how to help you."

She had spoken just long enough for Crosshair to get worked up. He couldn't stop himself from breaking his own resolution to stay silent.

"Just stop," he snapped and her eyes grew wide. "Stop acting like you care. Like you're not just doing a job and none of us matter."

"But I do care," she said slowly.

"Just like you care about the regs?" he dismissed with a snarl. "Calling them your brothers, flirting with them.... You have no idea what they are really like. How... how condescending and spiteful and... and cruel they can be."

He was really worked up now. He jumped off the table and began pacing aimlessly. Words spewed from his mouth, far more than he'd ever said at once before, and he wasn't sure any of them were making sense but he suddenly had a need to get them out.

"The things they say, the names... They call us the bad batch. Bad. Because we're different and so that means we're good for nothing, right? Even though I can shoot a moving target from a thousand meters away, it doesn't matter. Still not good enough." 

"Cross..." she started to say softly. But he didn't want her sympathy. He stopped pacing and whirled to face her.

"You don't get it. You don't know what that's like. Everywhere you go, you've got everyone tripping over themselves to get your attention. Me included. And you just eat it up. Like it's a game to you. Acting like you enjoy my company, like I'm special, and then turning around and doing the same thing with some reg."

Joan's look of surprise through his ranting now turned into one of confusion. "I'm sorry... what?"

"Don't act like you don't know," he scoffed. "I saw you laughing with some regs in your office, when you were supposed to be meeting with me."

He was done now. He'd said more than he should have and he didn't like how she still didn't seem to understand. He clenched his jaw and refused to look at her, burning holes into the opposite wall with his gaze instead.

"Wait," she said, tying to wrap her head around it all. "This is about... you're not seriously... jealous?"

"No," he quickly snapped. Maybe a little too quick.

"Okay, good," she stated, starting to come out of her confusion and settle back into her usual, sensible tone. "Because that'd be pretty ridiculous, getting jealous over me being nice to people."

He knew that. As soon as she'd said the word, as soon as he had a name for the emotions he'd been fighting all week, he knew he was being completely and utterly ridiculous. He'd never minded her kindness to his brothers; in fact, he'd admired it. But seeing her with the regs had definitely made him feel jealous. Threatened. He still hated them, he would never budge on that, but he'd had no right to project his anger and insecurities onto Joan.

"I mean, what do you think I do with my time?" she continued, still appalled this was why he had been upset with her. "Just sit around and wait for you to need me? Sure, the clone force is my main responsibility, but there are other ways I'm useful here."

Crosshair lowered his gaze to the floor but kept his posture tense. He wasn't sure what to do now. How could he possibly take back everything he'd said? The foolish and immature way he'd been acting?

Maybe Joan could sense his guilt as she slowly moved closer, like she was approaching an injured animal. He sure felt like he was, albeit, his wounds were of his own fault. She stood just in front of him, silent again, though this time not to coax him into speaking. He looked up at her to see her eyes casting about, thinking of what to say.

"My parents were doctors," she eventually began. "They would travel to underprivileged communities all over the galaxy, even as far as Wild Space. And they'd take me with them. I might not have understood the technical parts of what they did. I'd learn all that on my own later. But they did teach me how to care for people. All peoples, no matter who they were, what they'd done. It's not just my job, but my duty to make people feel better. I can, so I must. Whether it's helping someone recover from an injury, or laughing at a joke that isn't that funny."

She gave him a little smirk, and he found himself falling for her all over again.

"I'm not going to apologize for being nice, especially to those who will probably never meet someone willing to treat them kindly again."

He shook his head rapidly. "No, you're not the one who needs to apologize. I...."

He hesitated with the word, it wasn't one he said very often. He remembered being in a similar situation not too long ago, where he'd snapped at her unfairly, and he'd walked away with only a smile as an apology. She deserved more from him now.

"I'm sorry," he said, trying to say it clearly and confidently. He held her gaze and repeated it for good measure. "I'm sorry, Joan. I shouldn't have been jealous like that. I have no right to tell you how to treat others. And you really are so good to everyone. That's... one of the reasons why I like you."

He didn't say the last part as confidently, dropping his voice low and almost stuttering it out through a suddenly shaky breath.

She smiled and nodded, accepting his apology just like that. No strings, no deals. He wasn't worthy of such simple forgiveness. But he would take what he could get.

"Well uh, just so you know," she said, tucking her hair behind her ears and looking down at the floor. Crosshair felt that familiar wave of warmth rising from his chest, the one he'd been ignoring all week, and thought he'd never get to feel again. He was careful not to get too carried away this time, though. He didn't want to read into anything. He would wait patiently for her to tell him and he wouldn't jump to any wrong conclusions.

"I do enjoy your company. When you asked to see me... Well, I hadn't been having a good week, and that day.... Let's just say I didn't expect to be able to do much. But I ended up looking forward to you coming by. I was worried when you didn't show. It made the day that much worse."

She was still looking downward, and he let his gaze follow hers. Her fingers were twisting the hem of her shirt.

"I know I don't fully understand. Your life, what you've been through. But there's some things you don't know about me, either."

Her hands were so close to his. He reached out for them, carefully testing her reaction as he let his fingers brush against hers, gently loosening them from her shirt, and intertwining them with his own. She seemed hesitant to accept his attempt at comfort, but she wasn't retreating. Not yet. Encouraged, he held on a little more firmly. For a few seconds, she let him, and then she finally withdrew.

"In this room, you are my patient. I have to treat you the same as all my patients. Professionally." She took in a measured breath, her eyes finally looking up into his. "But outside of this room, I'm allowed to have friends. Or enemies. Or... other things."

Her lips twitched into a small smile and so did his. He wasn't sure how he could misinterpret her now.

"What are you doing tonight?"

Her smile grew and she let out a breathless laugh. "Nothing."

"Well, maybe we could get to know each other a little better? Since we've clearly had such a hard time understanding each other so far."

Joan nodded, starting to take a few steps back toward the table, ready to get the examination underway. "I'd like that. What did you have in mind?"

He followed her and sat back atop the table while he thought about it. "Sector 11, just to the right of the double doors. I'll meet you there."

"Okay. I should be wrapped up with all this testing for you boys by eight."

She held up a syringe with an apologetic look.

Oh right, he groaned internally, now snapping back to reality. The dreaded testing....

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Californian Dream (Pt. 04 of 11)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Being part of one of the richest families of California doesn't mean you're happy. Your life is boring, and you're surrounded by meaningless people and their meaningless talk. Even during Summer, with the break you have from college, there's nothing good going on. Nothing but the new pool guy, Billy, the most handsome man you ever saw. You were successfully avoiding him, not wanting to act like an idiot in front of the guy until Billy accepts to be your date for a fancy gala you're forced to attend. The night was going well, even better when he sneaked you out to go to the beach. But a gang of criminals breaks into the party, kidnapping the heirs to the wealthiest families, which includes you. So, for your safety, your parents want you to stay with Billy, living in his apartment until the criminals are caught. And that could take weeks, maybe even months.

Warnings: Light violence

<- Previous part (03)

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{Stranger Things Masterlist}

{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

×

Distance

In the morning, you tiptoe to the living room, but everything you find of Billy is a small note left on the kitchen table. He's at work and must be back by 5 or 6 pm. He said you can make something for lunch, and that he'll bring dinner. So, now that you're alone, you can't help but think. The names of those who died to keep playing back, and Gisele's is the one that comes louder. You feel bad for all the times you were mean to her, when you left her talking alone, storming away. But it's useless to feel this way now. It won't bring her back.

You're pacing around the living room, the news channel on, as they repeat the same things over and over. When you put both hands on your head, out of desperation, you feel as Billy's shirt lifts a little, exposing your thighs. And you realize you'll need clothes. And all your personal stuff. “Ame.” You mutter, going to the phone and calling home. As usual, it's Amelia who answers, and she squeals, happy to know you're fine. After telling her everything that happened and where you'll be staying, you start giving the instructions. Well, she's the one to point out what you'll need and how to cover up who you are.

The goal is to remain hidden, but you won't be stuck inside the apartment. So you need to look different, and for that, Amelia advises you to buy new clothes, normal clothes, instead of using the ones you have. And she kindly offers to buy everything you'll need and bring them over later today. She'll also bring all of your personal stuff. And money. Amelia tells you to keep some money with you, in case you need it. You're not sure what for, but you agree.

She gets here after lunch, with three huge pieces of baggage, and she helps you drag them to Billy's bedroom. Then, after you change out of Billy's shirt, she shows off the last part of her plan. Amelia wants to dye your hair and cut off a few inches. You don't think it's necessary, but she's worried about the situation, and for the sake of the woman who raised you, you let her do it. Once she's done, she helps you clean the bathroom before leaving, giving you a tight hug and asking you to keep in touch and be careful.

Then the rest of the day is pretty boring. You do give some trips to the bathroom, just to check the hair. It's nice having your natural color back, but you never thought it would be in these circumstances.

You're watching the news again, seating on the couch, when the door opens. Turning your head, you give Billy a small smile. When his eyes find you, he furrows his eyebrows. It takes a while for you to understand why the confused expression.

“Oh! It was Amelia.” Quickly, you explain, standing on your feet and noticing the pizza he brought. “I called her and she helped me get some stuff done and well...” You gesture at your hair. “I've been bleaching it since Elementary school so I bet nobody will recognize me now. Amelia is probably the only one who remembers my natural color but... This is it.” You're speaking too much, and maybe a little too fast, but you're not sure why. “What do you think?”

He squints his eyes, moving to put the pizza on the table. “I think you're already planning on going out.” Well, obviously. He can't possibly expect you to stay locked up in here.

“I was talking about the hair, but ok.” Shrugging your shoulders, you gesture at the pizza. “Can I eat it?”

“Yeah. I'll take a shower.”

“I'll wait for you then.”

“Alright.” Billy stands there for a few seconds, awkwardly, before walking to the bedroom. “The hair is good, by the way.”

“Thanks.” You mutter, smiling a little.

“(Y/N)!” He calls out suddenly, startling you. “Why is there a bag full of money on my bed?”

“Oh!” Rushing to his bedroom, you find a very confused Billy. You left the dark blue bag on the edge of the bed, and you completely forgot about it. “Amelia said I should have money with me, just in case I need it.” Running a hand through your hair, you sigh. “But, uhm, if you need or want to buy something, you can, I mean... It's fifty-seven thousand dollars.” Reaching out inside that bag, you take one of the many piles. “Every pile has one thousand... So if I fall and break a bone you can use it to pay the hospital.

“Break a bone? Should I worry about that?”

“Just trying to light up the mood.” Giggling, you glance at him. “I won't jump from the window or anything. And those are my things.” You gesture, at the pieces of luggage. “Amelia got me new clothes. Normal clothes, not the expensive ones my mother makes me buy.”

“Amelia has everything figured out.”

“She does... I'll let you do your stuff.” Nodding to yourself, you walk away. You can't help but feel a little weird with all this, and the sensation of being nothing but a bother to Billy is starting to kick in.

You patiently wait for him, watching the news again. And the content of the tape was finally made known. And it's not good. Everyone was expecting a normal rescue. They'd say how much they want, get paid, and let the kids go. But apparently, that's not how it'll be.

“(Y/N).” The mention of your name startles you, your heart skipping a beat, and that's when you notice how focused you were. “Everything alright?”

“No.” You breathe out as Billy turns the TV off. “They have thirteen kids, right? It means they want thirteen parts. They'll let the media know how much, and when they get paid, they'll release one. Whoever they want. It doesn't mean that the Whaylands will get James out if they pay up.”

“These guys know what they're doing.” Billy looks down, thoughtful. “This will create chaos between the families.”

“Yeah... I'm even glad I'm stuck here because I wouldn't want to be anywhere near that mess.” Standing from the couch, you move to the kitchen table. “Can I?”

“Sure.”

Drumming your fingers on the table, you sit down, thinking about everyone they got. Alice, James, Daniel. Melissa, Candace. Michael, Antony, and Ryan. There are more... But you can't remember. Where are they now? Are they hungry? Are they being treated nicely? You doubt it. By the violence those men showed, they're not being nice. It could've been you, who knows where now, maybe starving, terrified... They're not your friends. They're just people you know, but still, you want them all back, alive and well. You want to hug them, to talk to them again, even if it means being part of their superficial conversations. You just want to have the chance to.

“Hey,” Billy calls, and you snap out of your thoughts, noticing you were biting your lip too harshly. “You ok?”

“Yeah.” Muttering, you take a slice of pizza, taking a bite.

“What did you have for lunch?” The question comes in a careful tone. Low and steady. He knows what you're thinking about.

But you can't answer it. It only hits you now that you haven't eaten anything all day, and the pain in your stomach is only surrendering because you're eating now. So you clear your throat, giving Billy a look. “Uhm... I haven't.”

“What?” He puts his slice down, a serious face on. “Couldn't you find anything you like?”

“That's not it I... I was watching the news all day and the police did next to nothing.” Gesturing at the TV, you sigh. “And I just can't understand how those big ass vans just disappeared into the night. It's just... One of the three people who were in the hospital died. Five of those working in the kitchens died in the explosion. They found the bodies today, and I just... I just wasn't hungry...” Maybe you should just say the last part. Billy doesn't need to know how desperate you feel.

“(Y/N), you gotta eat. What would your father say if he knew–”

“Billy, I need you to stop thinking about my father.” Cutting him off, you push some of your hair back, out of your face. He has to stop doing that. You don't want to be a job, you don't want him to see you as someone he has to look after. “What? Do you think I'll give him daily reports on my routine?” Making a pause, you take another bite, now a little annoyed. When you swallow it down, you stare at Billy again. “Day one. I woke up in Billy's bed, wearing one of his shirts. He left a cute note. I spent the whole day watching the news, freaking out a little, crying a little. Them Billy came back and brought me pizza.” You make sure to sound as annoyed as you feel. “Day two...”

“Maybe you should do that.” He says, those blue eyes locked on yours. Why is he staring at you like that, so intensely? Is he doing that thing again, trying to understand you? Because he always succeeds.

“Maybe you're crazy.” Shaking your head, you focus on the pizza again, silently finishing your slice. It might be so weird for him. Billy doesn't bring girls here, and here you are, invading his private life, stealing his bed. “The bed is yours today.”

“Alright.”

“Yeah...” As you take a second slice, you remember the gala. From the moment he picked you up until right before the explosion. It was easy talking to Billy, you didn't have to think before speaking. It was... Good. Effortless. You couldn't stop smiling, and you did wish you could hang out with him more. You felt free from all the rules and regulations, finally able to be someone genuine. Not the fake version you present to people.

But now... It's weird, uncomfortable. You did expect it to change as the days go by, but it didn't.

You started to count, obviously. Day three, day four... And it only got worse, if that's even possible. He always brings something to dinner, and you eat silently on the kitchen table, only to sit on the couch for a while, as far from the other as possible, and watch TV in silence. It's like two strangers sharing a roof, and you slowly give up the idea of this being something good. It isn't. Billy doesn't want you here, that's pretty clear. And it got even more obvious after the weekend. You told him he could go out if he wanted to, but he didn't. And it was just the same. Few words were spoken, a cold distance kept. He's like someone else entirely, not the same Billy from the beach.

And on the eighth day, you had enough. So you wait for Billy to go to bed, since it's his turn, and wait an hour before tiptoeing to the phone. Amelia is the only one you can talk to, whose advice you trust. So you call the private line she keeps in her bedroom, nervously biting your lip as you wait for her to pick up.

“Hello. Who's this?”

“Ame. It's me.” You whisper, giving the hall a look before turning around, leaning against the wall. “I'm sorry to call so late but I needed to talk.”

“Of course, honey. You know you can call me whenever you need.” When you were at the house, you used to bug her even late at night when you needed help, or just to rant about something. She was always there. “What's going on?”

“Uhm... Ame, this... This isn't working. Living with Billy is... Complicated.”

“Why?” You hear something in the back, maybe a glass being put down. “I remember you were getting along just fine since the day he saved you from drowning.” She giggles. “I saw you going around with him, laughing and chatting.”

Sighing, you shake your head a little. It was different back then. You don't know how, but you know it was. “Yeah, but he just... It just...” Damn it. Of all people you know, if you had to pick someone to do this, as crazy and insane as it is, you'd pick Billy. In any other house, those mansions, you'd have to act on your best behavior, participate in those formal rites for every meal, be always polite and kind. Here, you thought it would be better. You thought you'd have fun, as you used to on those days, with funny comments and quick remarks. Now... You don't know. “Billy doesn't want me here.” You burst out, keeping your voice low.

“Why do you think that?”

“He's just... Distant. Cold.” Why does it bother you so much? The Billy you met before was the one treating you as his boss. One of the owners of one of the houses he works on. What did you think? That he'd keep the act? “I'm an inconvenience. He's just doing that because my father will pay him in the end and no, I have no idea why it bothers me so much, but I just... I thought it'd at least be nice, but it isn't so...”

“(Y/N), Billy is a guy. I'm sure he's just making sure you don't feel uncomfortable.” She speaks slow, and you start bouncing your leg nervously.

“Amelia, I don't want him to fall in love with me, ok? I just thought we'd become friends or something like that.” The words come out fast, and you're a little pissed. “Billy doesn't want me here.” You repeat.

“Why does it bother you so much?”

“Because I had a nice time with him.” You burst out, throwing your free hand in the air. “He's so different from the idiots I'm surrounded by. I don't have to fake it, I can just say the stupid things that come to my head and I never had anyone I could be myself with. And God, I was so stupid to think this would be fun, or...” Taking a deep breath, your voice fades as you collect your thoughts. Moving from the wall, you start pacing around. “I'll just look for some apartment to rent, Ame. I don't want to be–” The sentence is cut short when you see a figure standing by the end of the table. Your eyes go wide, a hand on your heart as you recognize Billy, arms crossed, his eyes on you. “Ame, I'll have to go. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Alright, honey. Try talking to Billy before making any decisions.”

“Ok. Good night.” You mumble before hanging up. Swallowing hard, you step back, leaning against the countertop. “Did you... Hear anything?” That's a stupid question, of course he did. He wouldn't be looking so pissed if he didn't. But it doesn't matter. This gotta be over soon, so you both will feel better.

“From the very beginning.” He says, tilting his head at the phone. “Heard you talking to someone and decided to check.”

“Ok.” Nodding to yourself, you look down at your feet. “I was thinking and I believe it will better if I look for some place I can rent around here. But don't worry, I won't tell my father so you'll still be paid.” As you speak, you make your way back to the couch, but Billy grabs your arm, forcing you to stop.

“So you think I don't want you here,” Billy mutters, his face lit up by the bluish light coming from the TV. He's gorgeous, so gorgeous that it's hard to say something to his face.

“That's crystal clear, Billy.” Giving your arm a pull, he let it go. “You said it yourself, you don't bring girls to your place and you were forced into having me here and I totally get that you don't like it.” Turning your back at him, you sit on the couch, eyes on the TV, but not paying any attention.

“You got it wrong.”

“I don't think so.”

“I just...” He makes a pause, so long it makes you look up at him. “I'm trying to give you some space.”

“Well, you gave me so much space it actually feels like I'm living alone.” Angrily, you move to lie down, fixing the blanket on your legs. “It'll better if I just move out.”

“Listen, I know you don't like this place.” Billy turns the TV off, and if it wasn't for the dim light coming from the street, you'd be in complete darkness. “It's tiny, your bedroom is bigger than this apartment.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Remember when the railing of your balcony was broken by a storm? I fixed it.”

You remember it. There was a huge summer storm, and a branch was ripped from a nearby tree, knocking down half of your railing. When you came back home on the next day, it was fixed. But you'd never guess it was Billy. “Thanks.”

“You don't have to thank me for doing my job.”

“Goddamn it, Billy.” Kicking the blankets away, you stand up. “Stop treating me like some rich chick! Stop putting words in my mouth and stop saying I can't thank you for doing something!” You're yelling, despite the late hour. The neighbors won't like it. “You never asked me what I think about your place so you can't possibly know if I like it or not. And yes, thank you for fixing my railing, thank you for keeping my pool clean, for cleaning the leaves, for... Hell, for sheltering me! But it's getting tiring. I thought you'd treat me like a normal girl like you did on the beach, but I get it now that it was just an act so I'll just leave.” That said, you're already in motion, not sure why. But you're unlocking the door and storming out, furious, easily finding the stairs and rushing down.

“(Y/N)!” Ignoring Billy, you don't stop, wiping some tears that escaped when you push the building doors open, the fresh night air making your breath in deeply.

You're overwhelmed. There's nothing new about the kidnappings. The criminals asked two million dollars for the first kid, but that was it. The police can't seem to get any closer to finding them, and the same goes to the many private investigators on the case. And the only good thing that came out of this shit, being with the only person on Earth with who you felt like you could be yourself, backfired. You feel stupid, deceived. Walking down the sidewalk, you roll your eyes when you hear the building doors banging, quickening your pace.

“(Y/N).”

“You wanted to give me space. Then give me some freaking space.” Your voice is cracking, which only makes you feel more like an idiot.

“Alright. I'm sorry, ok?” He raises his voice, and soon enough he's grabbing your arm. But you push him away until he let it go. “I shouldn't assume you would turn out to be like the other girls. You're not like any of the rich kids I met.”

“You don't have to do it now. You made everything very clear.”

“Would you listen?” Billy furrows his eyebrows, stepping back, a hand on his head. “I have this habit of expecting the worse, it always kept me from being caught with the guard down. But I'll admit I was wrong about you.” Avoiding his gaze, you pace around, not sure if you want to believe it. “I had a nice time with you too. That was the worst party I've ever been to, but it was good to know there's someone from their world who isn't completely rotten on the inside.”

You don't know why but the insult makes you giggle. But it's only because he's right. The fact that they're being held hostage doesn't change how some of those people are mean and rude. Their situation doesn't change who they are. And, being born into what Billy called ‘their world’, made you see the worst side of everyone. Money corrupts weak minds, you've seen it. The more they have, the more they want.

“Fine then...” Finally turning to face him, you sigh. “What now?”

Billy reaches out his hand, and you look at it, not moving yet. “First, let's get inside. You're in pajamas in the middle of the sidewalk.”

That makes you laugh, looking down and taking in the leggings and the baggy shirt you're wearing which leaves one of your shoulders exposed. “My mother would literally squeal if she saw me now.”

“She doesn't have to know.” That makes you smile even more, and you feel like you just got a glimpse of the Billy you were with at the beach. So you take his hand, breathing in, and letting him guide you back inside.

×

@multific @dontxfearxthereaper @nope-thanks @nikkixostan @shinydixon @clockworkballerina @infinitelycharmed23

[greytoiletpaper]

Out on Allen Street, it’s 7 in the Morning

Set in the same-ish street-siblings universe as First Contact by @cryptids-and-muses and @a-sketchy-character @streetsiblings (they’re still awesome). Now, the pieces start falling into place or smth lmao :))

Drizzle | Deluge | AO3

Chapter 3: Squall

Did they get rid of her?

He dreads to think of it, but there’s nothing else he seems to be able to pick out from what information he gathers. Three years after he died, Cass (who hated killing, would never do it even for the worst of the worst) had nearly murdered the Joker. She almost finished the job until Batman saved the madman and subdued her. After that,

Nothing.

Not a single report on Batgirl. Nor a photo of Cassandra Todd. Only two traces he could find. One a significantly sullen Wonder Woman (he and Cass had liked her, and she, them). The other an interview of Bruce, repeating that she’d gone to ‘travel the world’.

Jason knows a lie when he hears one.

“It’s – It’s like she just disappeared,” He’s gripping his head, rocking back and forth while Rose smooths out his hair. “He cut her out of the family and then what?”

He remembers a promise, a vow Bruce had made with him. It had meant the world to Jason.

Bruce had broken that vow. Torn it apart and stomped all over it.

Rose watches him as he breaks down with no judgement in her gaze, just holds him close as his world crumbles around him again.

--

There’s a child in Nandra Parbat, and Jason has to train him.

“This is my son, Damian,” Talia had said to him, showing him some new kid as if he hadn’t just killed three assassins in the space of a minute. He would have said as much if she didn’t immediately order him to be the kid’s new teacher.

Looking at him now, all Jason can see is a small girl with a crooked smile mouthing his name. He blinks, and he’s met with a scowl and sapphire eyes (eyes just like Br-).

“Mother has requested you to be my instructor,” The kid repeats and lord, his voice is nasal. Jason chooses to stare at the kid, who fidgets. If he looks close enough, he could swear Damian’s scowl looks almost precisely like-.

“Is he mute, Mother? I do not see how an invalid could assist me,” He can tell by the way Rose’s head shoots up and glares at Damian whose side she would choose if this escalates. A flare of anger rises in Jason’s chest; his eyes start to flash a sharp emerald. Still, he pushes it down and diverts it to strengthening his stare, dominating the room.

He can’t read people the same way Cass can, but Jason could swear that the kid’s composure cracks at his uncertainty.

“Wanna repeat that for me?” Jason’s voice is low and even. He can tell the kid recognises the threat in his tone. To his credit, Damian hesitates before he honest to god tts, like every single other haughty, uptight rich boy.

“Regardless, habibi, you will treat your new instructors with respect,” Talia speaks, gesturing to him and Rose. “The quality of your instructors was incredibly subpar, and you have them to blame for killing the previous masters beforehand.”

“I do not think that a lowly thug and his harlot-,” Jason’s arm shoots out in an instant, clasping his hand over Damian’s mouth and clenching. Indignant fury flares in the boy’s eyes as Damian tries to slap Jason away. It does nothing, unsurprisingly.

“So long as you are under my tutelage, you will never speak that way to any woman. That is no way to speak to anyone, regardless of what they do for a living,” Somehow, the kid actually listens, the flinty look in his eye lessening somewhat. “I bet your own mother had to pull a fuck ton of strings just to make sure this meeting even happened in the first place.”

Jason glances up to Talia, expecting a reprimand. What surprises him is how genuine the approval she emits is. It hits him that he has literally confirmed to training Damian. He coughs.

“You should know,” Talia pipes up. “His full name is Damian Wayne-Al Ghul.”

Jason stares at the ceiling and curses the rain as it tap-dances with the universe, mocking him.

“All right, then, I’ll go to hell.”

--

Cassandra shakes herself from the nerves and rings the doorbell. The last time she had been here, she had kissed Alfred on the cheek and let him drive her all the way to the airport. That was only two months ago. Two months away from Gotham, away from Batgirl, away from-.

Bruce. He’s standing in the foyer, his gaze cold, but his body… his body seems unsure. She doesn’t know what to make of it. She half expects him to turn her away, but he moves to the side. He opens his mouth.

“Cassandra!” Steph darts from behind Bruce’s body, all flailing limbs and mismatched socks. “You’re here!”

“Yes.”

The girl grins, periwinkle eyes dazzling (They’re from the same cloth, just not the proper stitching) as she drags Cassandra away.

“So… how’s life in Hong Kong?”

“Peachy,” Cass answers honestly.

“Think of any names for your new identity?” Steph gesticulates to nothing, but her body language is focused on questions. So, she doesn’t give the girl any. They walk a little more until Steph decides to fill in the silence again.

“Tim’s dad found out about the vigilante business,” Cass nods as Steph talks. “Wants him to quit being Robin and Bruce doesn’t seem to know what to do about it.”

“His problem.”

“Well, duh. It’s just that….” Steph rubs her arm shyly, the same way she always does when she’s afraid of what she will say next. “When I was growing up, with my villain dad and addict Mom, I always imagined that Batman and Robin would save me. I’m here now, and….”

“You want to be Robin.” Cassandra deadpans, even as Steph whirls to gape at her. Really, it’s not like she wasn’t obvious. “Why not go for it?”

Silence for a moment. “Because I’m afraid.”

Cassandra looks at the blonde sharply. Stephanie Brown? Intimidated-by-Batman-and-joined-vigilantism-anyway Stephanie Brown was afraid? She doesn’t know what to think. That is until the dots connect in her head.

“You’re afraid that you won’t be able to help as much as you want to,” Steph scuffs the carpet glumly.

“With Mr. Anal-retentiveness-to-the-9’s? Yeah, that’d probably happen,” Steph sound so defeated and desperate that Cass curses because apparently, fate chose now to be when Steph is truly like Jason.

“Then don’t wear it,” Steph’s scuffing gets a little stronger. “I, for one, think you’d be a really good Batgirl.”

Steph makes an incredible impression as a fish and stares at Cass, barely wheezing as she gawks. “But Bruce -.”

“Bruce doesn’t have autonomy over Batgirl,” Cass smiles sweetly, echoing Barbara. “It’s your uniform now, and no one can take that from you but yourself.”

Her friend squeals loudly and squeezes Cass, gushing her gratitude over and over. Cass hugs her back, pretending it’s Jay she’s holding in her arms, giving the assurance of family she failed to keep.

--

He’s only trained with Damian for a few months, yet he’s seen more than he really should from the boy. His younger brother (the kid’s only a child, it doesn’t matter what Jason’s previous misgivings are) has been raised in the League of Assassins since birth. He can already use a sword with deadly efficiency at eleven years old. His attitude's as ruthless and condescending as every other assassin in the compound.

However, what is an exploitable weakness for Damian is the fact he’s only just started puberty. Most easily demonstrated when Rose makes a suggestive pose before tackling the boy and pinning him in place. Jason whistles because he’s fond of her, an asshole like that. Rose flips the bird at Jason and sticks out her tongue, now lounging casually on Damian’s squirming body.

It’s cute, the scene, but Jason knows how wrong it is. As long as Damian is with the League of Assassins, he won’t live normally. To find his own love, his own family. Even as the child wrestles with Rose and yells at him to help, it won’t ever be enough.

He’s not projecting.

He’s not.

He’s going to concoct a plan.

--

Ravi, Damian’s caretaker, has that air about him that Jason has only ever seen come from Alfred. So, he guesses trusting Ravi with this is more than okay. The man may be blind, but with him, they manage to smuggle Damian through the channels of the League, avoiding everyone who could threaten their goal.

“If I may ask, Mister Todd,” Ravi says as they reach the last legs. Jason nods. “Why are you doing this? To what gain is rescuing this child for you?”

“I don’t do this because I want to gain something,” Jason replies immediately. “No child deserves to grow up in this place. He deserves to have as good a childhood as he can get.”

Ravi stares patiently, hearing what’s unsaid.

“Sound reasoning,” Talia’s voice echoes around them. Everyone tenses. The woman steps out from behind the pillar ahead of them, alone. “And where, may a mother ask, are you taking my son?”

The woman’s voice lacks her usual veneer, sounding so genuinely earnest that he can’t help but blurt out: “Gotham.”

“Gotham,” Talia repeats, her forehead pinched. “With him?” With Batman? Jason bristles. “Might I remind you; he left your death unavenged and replaced you in mere months.”

“Fuck that,” Jason snarls. Ever since he came out of the Pit, madness clings to the edges of his mind whenever he thinks of how Bruce replaced him. This time, it only flickers. “What I want doesn’t matter when Damian needs his father figure. I’m – I’m not stopping him from having that.”

“So, you no longer wish to kill him,” Talia states. He sighs.

“I guess not,” Jason frowns, considering her presence. “Want to take him to Bruce?”

If Talia is surprised, she doesn’t show it, only beckoning for Damian to follow her. As the kid moves, Jason realises this might be the last time he’ll see Damian on the same side of the fence. He grabs the kid’s shoulder, who oddly doesn’t resist.

“Look, Damian,” Jason starts as his younger brother stares up at him. “Doing right is right, and wrong is wrong. A body ain’t got no business doing wrong when he ain’t ignorant and knows better.

“Living with your father, it’s rules like that he follows like gospel. He’ll love you; I know he will, but with him it’s always on the condition that you adhere to his principles. Can you promise something for me?”

Damian nods, soaking every word in.

“I need you to keep an open mind with what he says, but I don’t want you to follow them like gospel the way he does. You’re more than his soldier, you’re my brother, you’re his son.”

The kid nods again, shifting on his feet.

“And – And look after yourself, okay? And -,” The words that come out of his mouth feel like hot coals, but he has to say them. “And if somehow Cass is there, can you look after her too? For me?”

“Of course,” Damian answers softly before throwing his arms around Jason’s waist. “I will find your ukht, ahki, and make sure she is well cared for.”

Jason smiles. It's a broken, weary-looking thing.

“And Todd?” Jason raises his eyebrows. “You should confess to Wilson about your ridiculous affection. It is sickening to watch you two dancing around one another every lesson.”

Jason can’t help it; he laughs and lets his little brother go, his tears like raindrops.

--

Cass leaves the fresh hydrangeas on the headstone. It stares back at her, its date (four years) seeming to mock her from beyond the grave. Literally, Jay says in her head, which has her biting back the laugh that builds in her throat.

Bruce’s son had come in a few days ago, obviously an assassin child, yet he’s still… subdued, somehow. She knows the boy is there, at her brother’s grave, and that he follows her all the way to the manor. Even then, Cassandra lets it go. He probably took all his cues from Bruce anyway.

It’s when she’s sitting at the new memorial for Jason, a small statue of an apple with a plaque underneath, that Damian approaches her.

“Cain.”

“It’s Todd.”

Something crosses the boy’s face. She can’t tell what it is.

“Todd,” Damian says, his eyebrows pinching like a mini Bruce. “What is this?”

“It’s Jason’s memorial,” Cassandra traces the words on the plaque, a quote, one whose meaning she had struggled with a lifetime ago. She gestures to the book in her hands. “I read to it, every time I’m here.”

Damian looks like he’s about to say something about that, but he withholds it. Instead, he sits down with her, his head upturned, not unlike a bird.

“What was he like?” The boy asks, the words seeming to grit out his teeth.

“He was amazing, and we loved him so much,” Dick speaks up, out of nowhere, cutting Cass off before she can even begin. “I had a few issues with him, but I promise that I’ll be as good a brother to you as he was to us.”

Cassandra snorts, and Dick’s smile falls off his face.

“Cassandra, come on, I was just-.”

“You weren’t even a good brother to me or – or him.” She says quietly, because why is he even speaking now? “Why are you trying now? Why not before?”

“Like I said, I had a lot of issues with -.”

“I don’t care, Dickface.” Does it hurt to say Jason’s old nickname for the boy? Yes. Does she draw satisfaction at how much he flinches? Also, yes.

Barbara chooses then to speak up.

“I don’t think that’s fair for you to say, Cass.”

She freezes. The fact that even Damian, who hardly knows her, does the same with the others means they know how huge an error they’ve made.

“Don’t call me that,” Cassandra snaps, voice desolate and lethal, thoughts squalling and refusing to calm down even as she buries her head in the book in her hands.

Barbara sighs and calls Dick away to discuss the mysterious hacker that’s been pulling information from them. Damian, seeming to recognise her desire to be alone, follows him. Good. Cassandra’s mind falls in and out of a lull as her eyes try to refocus. So, she caresses the edge of the apple reverently. In its reflection, tears run down her cheeks. She can’t feel them.

--

“The information breaches just keep searching for Batgirl,” Barbara says, snapping Cassandra from her stupor. She pulls up a list; every entry confirms Barbara’s statements. Every entry, that is, except for one that catches her eye. The text flashes brightly, making her head spin, and she can’t look away because printed in the bright neon text is-.

There’s a memory, one she’s locked in the far recesses of her mind, where things like the Joker and David and all her other demons live. She remembers Faizul asking who her mother is.

David smirks, a savage thing he does whenever he’s about to order her to do something (murder, as it turned out, then) and says:

Sandra Wu-San | Lady Shiva

The words blare in her mind, bouncing round and round and blocking out all sounds in the cave. It certainly explains a lot; only Shiva can read the body like a novel. Plus, Cassandra isn’t sure that assassin skills are genetic but having two master assassins as biological parents should factor somewhere. It also opens a new avenue of thought. Why? Why did she give her up and never look back? Why did she leave her with her monster of a father? Cassandra craves needs answers, and she needs them now.

Staring up at the name printed on the screen, Jason once asked himself the same questions.

While the others discuss what to do, Cassandra has already listed Shiva’s last known locations and activities. They don’t notice she’s going to leave until she revs the engine of her bike. She sees them open their mouths, but over the sound of the motor, their voices fail to reach her.

All except, somehow, for Alfred and if there is anyone in this family Cass will listen to; it’s the one Jay loved the most.

“If you do pursue her, Miss Cassandra,” The butler has never been unkind to her, yet she can’t help but feel like he’s trying to keep her in place. “I am not sure if you will find what you are looking for.”

She leaves anyway, soaring underneath the tresses of Gotham as they settle around her, the mist obscuring everything but her path forward.

--

“Damian probably landed in Gotham last week,” Rose says casually. Too casually, she realises. Jace side-eyes her and snorts in response. Damn him and his ability to pick apart what she’s asking. Four years constantly in one another’s presence would do that to people with his life experience. Yet, as much as Jason can read her, she can’t say she can do the same for him.

Something about him seems fragile, like plaster covering a beautiful and distracting collage. Rose wants to dig past that plaster, through the collage and see the mind that is Jason Todd.

She has seen him at his highest and lowest points and always makes sure to stay by his side, as she does now. He’s her best friend; he might not know it, but he’s kept her sane (reassurances her father will not find her come to mind) just as much as she’s done for him.

“What do you think of the new Batgirl?” This time, she means to be conversational. When they stumbled across the profile of Cass’ successor, Jace had shaken his head and laid out half-heartedly into a punching bag.

“I don’t hate her, if that’s what you’re thinking,” That response was… not unexpected. But, when she raises her hickory eyes, Jason has his head raised to the sky. “I looked into her, and – and she’s like us.”

Oh.

“Girl’s from the Narrows. Didn’t live on the streets, but from her background, her home life definitely wasn’t that great growing up either.”

His hand is trembling, so Rose grabs it and tries to keep him steady with all the power in her.

“She’s going to do Batgirl proud,” Jason says shakily. “I think you’d agree.”

They stand there, leaning on each other, tranquillity settling around them as Jace lets his tears flow. It occurs to Rose that she never let his hand go. She doesn’t plan to. The feeling makes her feel warm inside, and as much as she wants to go further, she also doesn’t want to push her best friend away.

In the distance, the outline of a jet approaches the runway they’re on. It is time.

“You ready?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I said yes.”

“Fair enough.”

“Hey,” Rose looks up at him, waiting for him to continue. “If anything goes wrong, I want you to stay out of sight of the others and get away from Gotham.”

Rose growls. “No way, there is no fucking way I’d leave you alone with them.” She steps closer, jabbing her finger on his chest. “I didn’t train with you for the past four years for it all to be thrown away just because Batman is an asshole. My dad’s just as bad, remember?

“You’re stuck with me no matter what Jace. Deal with it.”

He gives her a wry smirk that has her heart fluttering as much as her returning grin is sharp. Even as the plane touches down, she realises that he hasn't let her hand go, and neither has she.

In the next week, Red Hood and Ravager will carve their way through the deeper bowels of Gotham’s stomach, a bag of heads linking their iron fists.

For now, Rose breathes in the moist air as a drizzle begins.

--

Mad Dog, Cassandra muses, is a morbid reminder of what she might have become if she stayed with David. He doesn’t have her abilities, but he has more physical strength in spades; his movements are so strange, so unpredictable, that it’s not like it matters.

A deft swipe narrowly misses her throat, and Cassandra cuffs the man in the jaw with her knee, knocking him back.

She had definitely found Shiva. Tracked her all the way to some subset of the League of Assassins. The woman had only gazed coolly at her and set Mad Dog on her.

True to his name, the assassin growls and leaps at her, fury behind each of his strikes. Cassandra dodges one of these, the fist cratering the cement wall, and gets socked in the chest for her trouble. The force of the impact sends her flying metres away.

Getting up from the blow is a chore, and she can feel the agony her body is in, feels the blood run down her mouth as she rises. Her fist is shaking; her stance is uneven. Mad Dog notices, and he grins like David, drawing a jagged sword from his sheath and charges.

Cassandra darts past the assassin. She knows she can win this. Even though his movements are swift and deadly, she manages to outpace him. His sword strikes aim to draw blood as he swipes at her, but she’s still managed to weave her way around them, causing sparks to fly into the air. When he tries to hit her, she still uses his momentum against him and knocks him down.

Yet, Cassandra can feel herself getting slower now; her arms are still shaking. She dodges another strike, but it’s a feint, and Mad Dog grabs her by the hair and slams her onto the ground. Hazily, she watches his wicked grin widen as the assassin raises his arms and prepares his blade.

As Mad Dog is about to drive it into Cass’ chest, she thinks (This is it. It’s all over. It is time.) of a boy in an alleyway, an apple in his hand and a smile on his lips.

She closes her eyes and listens to the sprinkling outside.

--

“Do you think we were unfair to them?” Dick seems to ask to open air, but Bruce knows when his sons want a genuine response. “Like, that we didn’t give them enough credit for what they could do. And because of that, they’ve never had anyone but each other?”

Dick slumps. It looks so wrong on him that Bruce wraps his arms around him, especially careful (As a real father would. An insidious voice in his brain sneers). “Do you think, that if maybe we treated them so much better...” His boy is crying now, usually joyous lapis eyes cold and red-rimmed. “That they’d still be here?”

Bruce only grunts because not one of his answers is what Dick wants to hear.

On a slab of stone, the petals on the hydrangeas wilt, droplets dappling their edges.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[super-hero-girls-netflix]

Jess and Pam fluff/angst? Btw love ur blog bro. This show deserves more love and seeing ur post makes me happy. 👁👄👁💖💖👌

Note: I'm glad my posts makes you happy.

The Art of Avoidance and the Cost, Confrontation.

Prompt: Jess/Pam fluff/angst. Jess just wanted Pam to wish her a happy birthday. Pam just wanted Jess to leave her alone. Of course, it's not that simple.

*Jess*

"Happy Birthday!"

Jess knew that she didn't have the most... consistent relationship with Pamela Isley. There were times when she was sure that Pam felt something not negative towards her. Especially after a successful protest when Pam would scrunch her lips in an effort to tamper her smile. Or when Jess said something particularly amusing and Pam would quirk her lips as she passed by.

"Maybe she didn't hear us? ...Happy Birthday!'

But of course those times paled to all the other times Pamela clearly stated that she hated Jessica Cruz's butt. Forgo all the times Pamela would ignore her texts or greetings- there were times when Pamela would state at her with complete and utter hatred usually when she was doing mundane stuff like eating her lunch (a salad, of course) or talking to one of her friends.

"Err, Babs- Jess looks a little...mad? Sad? Smad?"

"Smad isn't a word, Hal."

"No one asked you, Karen!"

"Ugh, I hate when you say my name like that-"

So truly, Jess shouldn't have expected Pam to acknowledge her birthday. She really shouldn't have. It was a hope that would surely lead to dissapointment. But it still hit harder than expected when the morning passed without Pam even casting her a side eye.

All of her friends were loud..! Obviously if Pam didn't know it was her birthday from the beginning she should by now-

"Jessica! Are you alright?"

Jess snapped to attention, finding Diana and her friends looking at her curiously from where they sat at the lunch table. Barry, Garth and Hal (the only boys who stuck around after congratulating her) where standing, also staring at her.

They all shifted their concerned gazes from her to her salad- which she speared so fiercely it tore clean through.

Pushing her lunch away, she said, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Are you alright?" Diana repeated deliberately.

Bobbing her head eagerly, she said, "Yes! I'm great!"

"You just stabbed your salad," noted Kara dryly. "Did it make you angry?"

Zee elbowed her but didn't say anything- also curious to hear Jess explain herself.

"I was... thinking."

Silence stretched across the table, not that Jess paid it much mind. She was back to furtively scanning the cafeteria for the petite jerk who refused to acknowledge-

Ah, there she was.

Pam Isley.

When someone walked into a room there is always someone who looks up to see who. A handful of someone's. But as that handful checked and quickly dismissed Pam from their ignorant minds...Jess kept staring.

Because... how could you not?

She was absolutely breathtaking. Her full pouted lips, soft seemingly pink hair, long full eyelashes covering the most amazing green orbs.

But more than that- Pam made the room complete.

And almost as if Jess' stare was a physical tangible thing- Pam's eyes immediately met hers.

.

.

.

*Pam*

Jess wasn't very subtle.

Pam knew that Jess had been eyeing her all day. Pam knew that Jess was expecting something of her today.

But honestly Jess was always expectant of Pam so really it was easy to deflect. Not. Never could anyone deny Jessica Cruz.

So, Pam decided, that she would greet Jess and get it over with-

"Jess, let's go to Sweet Justice after school to celebrate!"

Pam narrowed her gaze as Jess broke their eye contact to answer Barbara. Hareleen's...friend? Hareleen's important something.

Celebrate what?

"O-oh, sure. I'd like that."

Pam took a step closer. What were they going to celebrate?

"God, you're so old now." The dumb jock (Harry, was it?) teased, tugging at her hair.

Something stuttered in Pam's chest.

A realization.

God, you're so old now.

It was Jess birth-

"You only turn 18 once!"

So...Jess beaming at her in the hallway, staring right at Pam... waiting for Pam. It was because she wanted Pam go wish her a happy birthday?

They weren't even friends! We're they friends? They were something. Pam couldn't deny that there was something intoxicating about Jess' company. That when Jess ranted passionately it was engaging and cute. That when Jess looked down at her, her hair twirled around her finger-

What was she thinking about again?

Pam brought Phil closer to her face, asking the plant an important question. "Phil, do I...like Jess?"

If Phil had eyes he'd be rolling them if his exasperated 'No shit, Sherlock' was any indicator.

No....shit.

.

.

.

*Jess*

It had gotten worse. Pam was no longer not noticing Jess- she was avoiding her. Ever since her birthday, Pam avoided Jess like the plague.

It was taking a toll on Jess. She couldn't sleep, her anxiety was sky rocketing and she had been craving something... greasy.

At first, when Pam first dodged her, Jess was willing to wait her out. The petite girl might not be in the mood. But eventually one encounter missed became two. And then three and four and five. And Jess was no longer patient.

She was pissed. Really, very pissed.

So pissed that the books were liable to catch on fire because of her stormy temper. She quietly fumed, hiding behind a library shelf waiting for when she could finally secure and corner Pam.

(Pam had taken to walking through the library to avoid Jess instead of the populated hallways.)

What was up with Pam? Usually the girl would at least humor Jess for a bit if only to get her off her back. Was she sick? She did look awfully flushed everytime Jess nearly cornered her! God, this was infuriating.

She...just needed to know if Pam was OK.

T-then if Pam was still set on keeping Jes from her life... she'll back off. She can take a hint...she can. And...- If Pam hated her so much she shouldn't make her uncomfortable anymore.

Only if. Only if there wasn't a good reason for her avoidance.

There probably was!

But still...

Her body did it before her mind could commit itself to the act. Her arms reached out, pulled the girl into the aisle, turning them both, and effectively caging Pam. Pam had her back against the wall and was blocked a quick escape by both of Jess arm's.

A triumphant smile breaks across her face.

She did it!

.

.

.

*Pam*

For a second all she could focus on was the beatific smile Jess wore. Then she saw Jess' smile soften and her eyes focus.

Then she felt Jess' breath all over her forehead and- oh my ivy. She was too close.

Her face went hot.

"What the hell," she hissed, turning her head so Jess couldn't see how quickly she was going pink.

"I wouldn't have done this if you had just- are you ok? Your ears are red, and" Jess spread her fingers on Pam's cheek, "your face is hot."

Was breathing always this hard? Holy-

"I-I'm fine. Just move, you're way too close."

As if just realizing it Jess startled and moved back, but kept her arms braced on both sides of Pam's head. (How was it that Jess didn't notice when that was all that Pam could think about?)

(Feeling this way and knowing that Jess didn't even think of the possibility that Pam felt the way she did pissed her off.)

"What do you want?"

Jess blinked, hurt flashing in those hazel eyes before her gaze narrowed, "I want to talk to you. You've been avoiding me."

"No, I haven't."

Jess stared at her for a second, stunned by her blatant lie. "...yes. Yes, you have Pam. And I want to know why."

She was still too close.

"I've just been," madly in love with you, "...busy."

"That's BS and you know it!" Jess takes her arms back and hugs herself. "Just tell me if I did something wrong. Are you mad at me? What did I do? I don't like it when you're avoiding me like this. You're a very good friend to me-."

Friend, huh.

Friend.

Friend.

Yeah, well...do friends do this-

And without further thought, without permission, without even knowing what she was doing...Pam Isley, a girl who has never as much as held someone's hand in a romantic way, kissed Jessica Cruz.

.

.

.

*Jess*

There is a blissful stage of confusion. Before everything makes sense, no- before that. Before anything exists besides that one emotion.

That emotion, for Jess, was peace.

Before she realized what she was doing and who she was doing it with. Before she can tear back and ask Pam what she was doing even though it was fairly obvious but at least why- Pam pulled back first.

"W-what?"

"I'm not mad," there was an angry insane look in Pam's eyes. "I just don't think I can be friends with you anymore."

Jess, cheeks still hot, was indignant. "And why not?!"

Pam ducked away from Jess and began backing away, "I think it would make me very unhappy."

And Jess finally realized why.

Pam liked her.

Pam liked liked her.

Pam who loved the Earth.

Pam with those green eyes.

Pam. Pam.

Pamela.

Pam turned to face her, eyebrow quirked.

Did she say that out loud.

"What now?" Her.... Pam's lips were trembling in an effort to remain still.

Jess wanted to still those lips with her teeth.

Heat burned the inside of her face.

Oh wow.

Pam started to turn to walk away but Jess latched onto her wrist. She had such a thin wrist. She really needed to eat better-

"Say what you need to say so I can leave."

"You like me then?"

"Anything but that."

"What kind of person leaves after dropping a bomb like that on someone?!" Indignation made her chest swell and she stepped closer to Pam, using her grip Pam's wrist to pull them closer. "You should at least give them a second so they can think of how to react to that-"

Pam looked at her, stunned. Then, annoyed she rolled her gorgeous eyes and said, "Can you just shut up-"

"Make. Me."

Jess was panting with emotion and Pam's eyes were wide and her gaze flickered from Jess' eyes to her grip on the wrist and to Jess' lips.

Jess bit her lip.

Pam stared at her mouth.

They just stood there. Jess swallowed. "B-back to the topic.." What were they talking about again? "Uhm, right..! Well, it's unfair of you-"

"You already said that," a resigned smirk colored Pam's face.

"R-right. Well..."

"I'm not asking you to return my feelings-."

"You're not giving me much of a choice!"

A hand thumped on the bookshelf and they startled guiltily apart and whirled around to see who it was interrupting them.

"Shhh!" The librarian hissed, eyes narrowed before stalking off to lecture some poor kid.

Pam was hugging herself, hands twisting the material of her sweater. "What do you mean I'm not giving you a choice?"

.

.

.

*Pam*

"Well, you are so insistent that I won't return your feelings..." Jess looked at her, unimpressed. "It kind of feels like I'm not allowed to."

"You are."

It's embarrassing how desperate she sounds. But Jess must dig desperation since she grinned, pulled Pam closer. Hands cupping her cheeks, one pausing to brush her pink hair behind Pam's red ear.

Oh... Jess was teasing her.

That wouldn't do.

So then with just as much purpose as before, Pam pulled Jess down and their lips met again.

This was such a mess. But with Jess so close and soft and pliant under her hands. It's okay. Messy was ok. Right now. In that moment, Messy was perfect.

[winryofresembool]

Caleo fic: It’s all about the name

Chapters 1-2

Summary: Calypso is a barista at a coffee shop and one day she gets a customer who refuses to give her his real name. At first he seems really annoying but eventually Calypso finds out not all is what it looks like on the surface.

a/n: Surprise! The coffee shop AU we Caleo shippers deserve! This fic is based on @caldez /minervaparadi-no's headcanons so a /big/ thank you goes to you for allowing me to work with your headcanons! Here you can read them if you want to! I might have modified some of them slightly to go better with this exact storyline but I tried to stick as close to them as possible.

Anyway, this fic got way longer than I anticipated because I wanted to see more than just the first meeting, so that's why I'm going to split it into 5 short-ish chapters. The first 2 I'm posting today but the rest of the fic, while almost complete, is still unedited so I will probably post more in a few days. I'm not sure exactly how long it will take because my little niece will visit us starting from tomorrow and I'm really bad at focusing when there's a lot going on around me... but know that more is coming soon. Same goes for Things We Lost in the Fire!

As usual, remember to let me know what you think because it will literally make my day!!

Words: 3,1k+

Genre: fluff, humor

Warnings: none

AO3 (Btw I’m considering changing my posting platform but more about that later)

...

Calypso wasn’t having the best of days. If she was honest to herself, being a coffee shop barista had never been her dream to begin with, and busy days like this particularly reminded her of that fact. The coffee shop she was working at was currently low on staff because one of Calypso’s coworkers had hurt her ankle on a slippery road and another one had caught a cold. Calypso felt like she would have needed at least 5 extra hands to get everything she wanted to do done, and it didn’t help that some of the customers had decided to be extra difficult that day.

One older woman had already tried to run from the coffee shop without paying for her order and Calypso had had to run after her, finally managing to make her come back to pay by telling her that she would call the police if the woman wouldn't obey. Another customer had yelled at her for supposedly messing up his order, claiming that he had ordered an iced mocha instead of iced coffee. Luckily Calypso’s manager had shown up just in time and explained very calmly to the customer that mocha was coffee, but the incident still left a sour taste in Calypso’s mouth. Afterwards, the manager just shook her head and told Calypso to not care about it; she knew the young woman was quite a perfectionist so she took the setbacks quite hard.

Either way, after serving the customers for four hours straight, Calypso felt she was in a serious need of a break. She was just about to let her coworkers know she’d go to the backroom when a new customer stopped in front of her, changing her plans. It was a young man, probably around her age, Calypso guessed, with curly black hair and tan skin. Thanks to his messy outfit and the mischievous gleam in his eyes he gave her an impression of one of those guys who caused chaos wherever they went just because it was fun.

Tapping his fingers nervously on the desk, he asked: “Double espresso, to go, and please be fast because my boss is gonna kill me if I’m back late. I don’t normally drink coffee but desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Calypso had already been on the edge before this customer had showed up but something about his ‘be fast’ order really rubbed her the wrong way.

“Alright, then,” she said, still trying to stay calm and refraining to tell him that they worked just as fast for every customer. “And what name should I write on the cup?”

“Bad Boy Surprise,” he replied, remaining completely poker faced. Calypso made a growling sound before managing to stop herself.

“What was that?” the young man asked, not missing her reaction.

“Nothing, must have been our coffee machine,” she lied and pretended to be focused on the espresso making. The guy still didn’t leave the queue, though, as if he wanted to say something more. “Now, Bobby, would you please move so we can serve the next customer. Your drink will be brought to that counter over there in a minute.” Calypso pointed at the said counter.

“OK, Sunshine,” the guy said, giving her a quick grin before finally leaving her alone. What a nuisance, Calypso sighed to herself as she wrote the name Bobby on his cup instead of Bad Boy Supreme. Still, she would probably have to apologize for her behavior because she did not want the guy to complain to her manager. It wasn’t really his fault that she had already had a lousy day and his arrival was simply the final straw that cut the camel’s back.

Soon she finished making the drink and found the ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ waiting at the other counter. His back was towards her, as he was checking out the coffee shop, and Calypso noticed he was carrying a big backpack. Maybe he was carrying some of his work equipment there, she guessed, before calling his name.

“Ahem. Mister Bobby. Your drink is here.”

‘Bobby’ turned towards her, for a moment clearly amused by the fact that she still refused to use the name that he had given her. Unfortunately, him turning caused a series of unfortunate events. The backpack accidentally hit a small milk jug that had been a bit too close to the edge of the counter. It fell, spilling the milk all over the counter and startling Calypso who had still been attaching the lid to the espresso cup. The cup slipped from her hand, the espresso spreading on the counter, floor and Calypso’s clothes. For a moment both Calypso and the guy just stared at the mess, not sure how to react. Calypso’s mouth formed an ‘O’ of shock before she finally snapped.

“IDIOT! LOOK WHAT YOU JUST DID! It will take me ages to clean this mess! Ugh, my clothes are wet too!” She tried to dab her wet apron with a paper towel. The guy seemed genuinely sorry, even though Calypso was too angry to pay attention to it.

“Look, I can replace the…” he started but Calypso didn’t let him finish.

“I just want you to go,” she said in a low voice. “Please, leave before I call my manager.”

“You’re not being fair now,” the guy said but conceded anyway. “I would have paid… But fine, I’ll get my espresso elsewhere.”

‘Bobby’ left and once the dust settled a bit, Calypso noticed her coworkers were giving her disapproving glances.

“Um, Calypso, was that really necessary?” One of them asked. “It was quite clearly an accident. Could have happened to any of us. And he really seemed sorry.”

All the anger suddenly left Calypso and she felt like an airless balloon. “I’m… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… I… need to do something in the backroom…” she excused herself before she started crying in front of everyone. Dashing past them, she left the perplexed coworkers clean the fallen drinks.

Once alone in the backroom, she buried her head into her arms and let the frustrations of the day come out. She wasn’t allowed to be alone for long, though, because soon the manager came in and started talking to her.

“I just came back from running some errands and heard some things about you causing a scene while I was gone. What was that about? You’re pretty much the last person in my staff who I’d expect to lose it in front of customers.” The manager raised her eyebrow questioningly.

Calypso started by saying that she didn’t want to make any excuses but it was a result of several things having gone wrong that day. She knew she had been totally inappropriate, but she just hadn’t been able to stop herself in that moment. Still hiding her face behind her hands, she also mumbled she would understand if the manager wouldn’t want to keep her around after that incident, but to that the manager just snorted.

“Listen, Calypso,” she said once Calypso had finished her story. “Mistakes happen to all of us. Do you think I have never snapped at idiotic customers? Even if the drink spilling was an accident, it sounds like that customer kind of deserved it for being a jerk towards you.”

“But… what if he spreads the word about my behavior and people start avoiding our coffee shop?” Calypso asked worriedly.

“I don’t think one person will have that big of an effect on our coffee shop,” the manager smiled. “We have survived our previous setbacks just fine. However,” she got more serious. “There is something you can do. To avoid the bad feedback from spreading, you will apologize to the guy for the yelling. And you could also offer him a free beverage since he got nothing to drink this time.” “But I have no idea who he was!” Calypso exclaimed, not happy about the thought of having to encounter that customer again. “He didn’t even say his real first name; he just gave me some joke name when I asked what I should write on the cup.”

“You can ask the others if any of them have seen him here before,” the manager suggested.

“Alright,” Calypso complied. “I will do that. But if they don’t know who he is…”

“Then we’ll just have to live with the fact that one customer out of the hundreds we get daily is not happy with us,” the manager said lightly before getting more serious. “Calypso, it’s not the end of the world. The main thing is that you understand what you did wrong and will do your best to not repeat it.”

Calypso was very relieved her boss took her incident that calmly. Not everyone would have been that patient, she thought, remembering some very unpleasant memories from her childhood. Already calmer after her manager’s words, she washed her face and changed into a dry apron before joining her coworkers to ask them about the guy she had yelled at. Turned out that one of them in fact remembered seeing him before.

“Yeah, I remember that guy,” Reyna, the coworker said. “He was here a couple of days ago and gave a fake name even then. I think it was Super-sized McShizzle or something like that. Anyway, he was wearing a work shirt that had a logo of a place called Waystation printed on it. I think it’s a car repair shop or something like that, but I’m not entirely sure. That could be a clue, though; maybe he works for them.”

“Waystation?” Calypso repeated, memorizing the name. “Alright, I’ll try to see if I find something with that name. Later. I’m not sure I’m mentally able to talk to him right now… I’m still a bit on the edge, to be honest.”

“Alright,” Reyna said understandingly. “If you want to, you can take care of the dishes for the rest of the day. I’ll deal with the customers.”

“Thanks,” Calypso said gratefully. “That would be good.”

“Hey, Cal?” Reyna asked tentatively, pulling her into a more private corner before she left for the dishes. “Are you sure you are OK? I don’t know, you have just seemed a bit off for a while now. Not just today.”

“Um, it’s nothing…” Calypso replied hesitantly, pretending to be interested in her hands. Reyna kept glaring at her suspiciously, though, so she continued: “Well, it’s not nothing, but… you know. It’s about /him/. I just heard the other day that the real reason why he broke up with me was because he wanted to date someone else. Yeah. Not the first time that has happened. I’m starting to get used to it.”

“Calypso…” Reyna said sympathetically. “I think I know what you’re thinking right now. It doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you. You just… weren’t meant to be with him. Trust me, I know. I was pretty upset after I found out about Jason and Piper, but… it kind of forced me to think what I really want. And I realized that I can be happy even without a romantic partner. I’m not saying that’s your solution, but I’m saying that maybe there’s a reason why it didn’t work out with Percy. Maybe there’s someone else waiting to meet you.”

“Like who? That Bad Boy Supreme guy?” Calypso attempted to joke.

“Who knows, maybe even him,” Reyna said teasingly. The conversation ended there because a new customer was waiting for Reyna to serve her, and Calypso withdrew into the backroom to do the dishes.

…

After work Calypso laid down on her bed in her small studio apartment and decided to do some research on the mysterious Bad Boy Supreme. She searched for Waystation on her phone, learning that besides the car repairs they also sold flowers and had an animal shelter in the area. Checking the staff information, she hoped to find the names or even pictures of their employees so she could maybe progress with her search. However, it seemed they did not have up to date information on their workers on the website so instead Calypso decided to check where the place was located. It was only about a kilometer from their coffee shop, close enough that she could go there before or after work and ask for a Bad Boy Supreme. Deciding to do that the next day, she put her phone down and blew the frustrations of the day out of her system. Even though many things had not gone her way, she felt grateful that the people at her work were so supportive. It was very different from what she had gotten used to earlier in her life.

...

The next day Calypso had an evening shift at the coffee shop, but she decided to leave an hour early from her apartment so she could drop by Waystation on her way to work. It took a while for Calypso to find because the area was full of similar looking buildings and there weren’t a lot of signs around telling her where to go. Knocking the door, Calypso secretly hoped that the Bad Boy Supreme himself would open it so she could just get done with her business, but of course she wasn’t that lucky. The person showing up was an older woman, Calypso guessed probably in her 60ies, who looked fit for her age, though. The woman looked at her questioningly for a moment before finally saying: “Hello. How can I help you?”

“I am looking for a guy who presumably works here,” Calypso started. “At least, that’s what my coworker thinks. He visited our coffee shop yesterday and, um… there was this little incident I wanted to talk to him about. I don’t know his real name but he was probably around my age, kind of short, dark, curly hair, and he called himself ‘Bad Boy Supreme’. Does that ring any bells?”

“Oh, yes, I know who you are talking about.” The woman’s eyes flashed in recognition. “Did he get into some kind of trouble again? Goodness, he may be our best mechanic but he seems to be quite a trouble magnet…”

“Oh no, it isn’t like that. It was just an accident. I’m the one who’s here to apologize,” Calypso corrected her.

“Alright, then. I’ll get him now. You can come in to wait,” The woman said before disappearing further into the building. Calypso stepped inside and looked around curiously. It seemed like the people working at Waystation also lived there; from the hallway she could see a big kitchen and a stairway presumably to the bedrooms. On the walls there were pictures of two women (one of them Calypso recognized as the one who had opened the door) and a little girl looking happy to spend time together. There were also pictures related to their work: some of the nicer cars they had fixed and animals they had taken care of. Before Calypso had time to check them closer, though, the woman arrived with a young man following her. He seemed really surprised to see her.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it,” the woman said before going back to her work.

“You’re that girl from the coffee shop. What are you doing here? And how did you find me?” the ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ asked suspiciously once they were alone. He crossed his arms, giving him the kind of glare that told Calypso he wasn’t very happy to see her, and to be fair, she couldn’t really blame him.

Suddenly Calypso felt silly about having dashed into the guy’s workplace without a warning like some kind of stalker. “I… I, um, asked my coworkers if they knew you because my boss and I agreed that I should apologize for my behavior… and someone thought you probably worked here because you had this place’s name on your shirt… so, yeah, here I am. To apologize. I’m sorry. And I realize now how weird this is. You know, me coming here. But I still wanted to let you know that if you still want to visit our coffee shop, we’ll give you a free drink because you didn’t get what you asked for yesterday.” The guy listened to her intently. He seemed to try to determine if she was being sincere, and eventually he asked: “You sure you want me there? If I remember correctly, the last time you wanted me out of there even though it was an accident.”

“Hey, I’m trying to apologize here.” A flash of anger went through Calypso again, but she tried to bite it back. “I realize I wasn’t acting like a decent coffee shop barista should back then. If you want to, we can even have someone else serve you, but I mean what I say.”

Suddenly the ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ started laughing. Calypso just stared at him, feeling slightly offended, until he finally managed to speak.

“I’m sorry for laughing, but girl, you have guts. I mean this in a good way. Not all the people I know would have come here to apologize to me after that kind of incident. You wouldn’t have needed to do that, I think I would have just forgotten about the whole thing eventually. I’m kind of used to being yelled at, you know? But I appreciate you coming here.” Then he grinned at her. “You know what? I think I’ll accept your offer. I’ll come to your coffee shop tomorrow; today Jo is making me work on this really challenging yet beautiful car and I don’t think I’ll have time to leave the place. But I’d like you to be the one serving me because it’s your apology, right?”

“Are you always this annoying?” Calypso asked, not quite sure how she should react to his response. Luckily, the guy didn’t get offended by her question.

“Some people I know may say yes, but I myself say I’m annoying only when I’m nervous around a pretty girl.”

Calypso was surprised by the compliment. She had noticed that he hadn’t had that mischievous glint in his eye when he had said it, which probably meant he was being sincere. “Oh, OK... Thanks, I guess?”

“Welcome. Just saying what I think.”

Calypso felt a bit flustered all of a sudden and didn’t know how to respond to that so she ended up tugging a loose strand of her hair behind her ear and checked the time from her phone. “Well, I should get going now, but ask for a Calypso if you can’t see me when you come to our coffee shop.”

“Calypso?” the guy seemed to evaluate the name. “Aw, I thought Sunshine suited you better. Can I at least call you Calie? Or Cal?”

“Whatever floats your boat,” Calypso shrugged. “Um, sorry but I only have like 15 minutes until my shift starts so I really should go now. But I’ll see you soon.”

“Alright, see ya.”

When Calypso was already out of the building, she realized she had still not asked the guy’s name.

[youarejesting]

Herb Jimin x reader

Pairing: Dealer!Jimin x Reader Beta: @bubblebunnylia​ Genre: Romance, Smut, Fluff, NSFW Rating: recommended 18+ (or whatever the legal age is in your country) Words: 3.3k Warnings: Blow job, oral female receiving, voyeurism, sex, cum mentioned, slightly rough but not extremely, unprotected sex. Summary: Jimin was the mary poppins of drug dealing. What ever you wanted he had and he NEVER disappoints his customer. That is until he met you. He finally decides to take matters into his own hands to fulfil your order.

[Masterlist] [Herb.2]

Not much was known about the young Korean man who showed up to all the parties. No one knew how he got there. All anyone knew was that he was the biggest flirt and had the herbs everyone wanted. Honestly, it didn’t matter what you wanted, he had it somehow. 

Everyone has their story with him. ‘I said I needed a bandage and he had it’, ‘I asked if anyone had any cat food cause we found a stray cat and he wipes out a bag, it was weird’, ‘He is like a sexy Mary Poppins, he gives you the dank weed but he also has pool floaties in his bag’ and you’re personal favourite  ‘I was so hungry and he pulls out a whole casserole and apologized because he ran out of vegetable bake’.  You had heard it all, it seemed like drunk fairy tales but no good party was without him. 

You remember when you first met he asked you if you needed anything, and when you asked him for love he froze up and apologized, sheepishly  claiming he didn’t have it. You knew he had his limits and that’s what kept you skeptical of his abilities. But something about his charming nature keeps you searching to meet him again. 

And it wasn’t hard. You met him, again and again. Each time he approached you and asked if you needed anything,  you always replied the same. “Love” and he would always grow quiet. You thought one day he might actually come up with a solution but you were yet to find out.

You were at one of ‘these’ parties, it wasn’t really your scene. Usually, you had no problem but tonight you really just couldn’t deal with it. It had been a long day and you had a headache. So you were trying to find a place to take  a quick nap,  using the stairs to stray further from the heavy base, which had started to cause some anxiety within your body. The sound upstairs was muffled and yet still so loud. Hoping to find an empty room and an equally empty bed so you could rest. 

You opened the first door to see if you were correct. This was Namjoon’s bedroom and there was an unspoken rule of no sexual activities in the host’s bed. Opening the door to see a modern style bedroom with white and black furniture and a few figurines. On the bed was the Host Namjoon with his boyfriend Seokjin kneeling on his knees in front of him. 

“Can I help you, Y/n?” You weren’t surprised that he knew your name, Namjoon knew everybody. But you were surprised by their blatant disregard of modesty. You had to  seal your expression from the two and the sexual act being performed was making your ears grow warm in embarrassment. 

“Ah, I was looking for somewhere to take a nap.” You admitted while looking away.  You didn’t want to overreact, only the coolest of kids got invited to Namjoon’s parties and you thought after high school popularity wouldn’t matter, but it still  does. 

Everyone at these parties had high libido’s. I mean, they are friends with Namjoon himself. If you were invited, you have either previously had relations with the host or you were a planned notch on the insatiable young man's belt. 

You were invited after a heated make-out session in the university’s auditorium with Namjoon and his loquacious boyfriend Seokjin.

Though your head was in fact turned you were still able to hear every obscene noise. The wet suction and smacking of lips, the throaty moans of Namjoon and the muffled encouraging moans and other elicit sounds from Seokjin. You could hear Seokjin's throat squelch around the large cock and you fought the urge not to blush any further.

“We will be finished in a— ahhh!” He hunched forwards, fingers clutching firmly to Seokjin’s blonde locks as his forearms tensed, the veins popping out. You saw every thrust of his hips. Seokjin waited patiently, you heard and saw how thick he swallowed and felt your pulse beating rapidly in your tight jeans. 

With every thrust he would swallow again. You could clearly see in detail the pronounced girth of the shaft sliding in his throat with fervor. Until the broad-shouldered gentleman pulled back in order to breathe, the action sending another twitch to Namjoons hips, and a final shot of cum just made it to the edge of Seokjin’s mouth and lips.

“We are done!” Seokjin said, standing as Namjoon readjusted his large and yet softening member back into his pants. “You can have the room or perhaps if you want we can entertain you?” 

The two smirked and you again, trying to play it cool, gave them a flippant reply. “No I really am tired and want to sleep, I was working on a thesis all night last night and–”

“Say no more sweetheart, rest.”  You avoided the place at the end of the bed where the two lovers had been. Snuggled in the blankets while falling asleep slightly as your head touched the pillow. Seokjin switched the light off and shut the door, allowing you to drift off peacefully.

The light switch flicked on and even with your eyes closed you felt blinded. You couldn’t stop the harsh shriek that pierced the air. “What? What is it now!?” 

“I am sorry,” the voice was soft and familiar as its owner switched the lights back off, “Can I sit for a moment?”

“Sure.” you mumbled, laying back down.  You could smell the stranger’s beautiful cologne and you got curious as to who it might be. 

“I just need to hide out for a while, someone not so nice is looking for me.” Their voice was hard to describe but sounded like a melodic ache.

“Who are you?” You asked, suspicious of the stranger climbing into the bed with you. 

“Who is asking?” The tiny trill showed he was amused by his dismissive answer, he was trying to act cute.  You turned on your phone  and used the light of your lock screen to examine the stranger’s face. Ash-blonde hair parted on the side, he smiled, wetting his thick lips with his tongue. 

“Ah, it’s you.” dropping your arm back to the bed, no longer feeling uncomfortable. All  the encounters you had with him were pleasant, he always used endearments because he never remembered names. 

“You know me, baby?” He took his phone and repeated your process to stream a soft light over your face. “Oh my, baby it is you! What are you doing in here sleeping? You're  usually the brightest in the room.”

“Huge Thesis.” you mumbled and he hummed, taking your hand. 

“Hey listen, how about I make you an offer tonight? You  can ask for anything you want and I will give it to you for half the price.  If I don’t have it I will give you the next best thing for free.” the lamp beside the bed was clicked on, giving a soft orange glow throughout the room. 

“Something warm?” You hummed while looking over at him curiously. You were craving a body. To be exact, human contact and love. He opened his jacket. 

“I got a warm meatball sub, a packet of lollipops, and a container of home cooked spaghetti. I got spare underwear in all different sizes, this is a set of slippers when your feet get sore in heels, juice mixers, spirits. I got herbs for days, this one will make you happy, this one calms you down, this one here has you seeing pretty colours, this one has you sleep until morning, this is my house special, it  tastes like a cinnamon donut.” he looked over. “Anything yet?”

You shook your head and he sighed, lifting a gym bag onto the bed, “alright brace yourself, I got spare clothes, ramen packets, a scented candle, batteries, pet food. I got condoms, a razor, a vibrator, lube. I have painkillers, cold medicine, I have this thing which I think was an Easter egg. I got a 3DS, a switch and a variety of games. I got a can of tomato soup, yet no can opener, weird. I got a heat pack, I got this adult diaper and I don’t know why, and a spiderman comic?”

“No,” you sighed.

“Tell me what you want and if I know I don’t have it it’s free.” he hummed, running his hand through his hair and looking so amazing while his plush lips were always so glossy and soft looking. 

“I want a fuck,” you breathed, “a good stress relieving fuck.”

“Aha, I do have what you want!” He held up  the vibrator and you shook your head. 

“No, I want heat and hands and so much more. I need to be loved right now, I need to just fuck until I forget everything. Last I checked I can’t get plowed into the mattress by a vibrator. So, unless you have a willing male hidden in that bag I don’t think you have what I want.” 

“Not in my bag, no, but I have one under my jacket,” he pulled his jacket off and held his arms out, “and I am free.” he grinned kneeling beside you.

“I have never done a deal like this, I am going to be honest. No one has ever asked for this. Would you like to make the purchase?”

“You sure you have what I want?” You bit your lip after you said it because look at him, he was sexy as hell and he knew it.

“I can fuck you until you forget everything, you won’t know anything but my name.”

“But I don’t know your name?” you raised an eyebrow. 

“Really? Pretty baby  doesn’t know my name?” He pouted “What do you call me in that pretty little head of yours?”

“I call you the herb man.” he laughed heartily, looking too cute for this proposition, almost falling over from his cute giggles causing you to sigh. “look, maybe I’ll just go home?”

“I have a reputation, I have what everyone wants. If word gets out that I, Park Jimin, let someone down not once but multiple times? I- we just can’t have that.  Now tell me how you want it.” he smiled, pulling his hair back with his fingers and revealing his forehead whilst licking his lips. You felt like you just got slapped with how quick he went from a soft boy to this deep gazed daddy.

“I don’t know..” you whispered, lying. He cupped your cheek looking you in the eyes and trying to search them for what you needed. Maybe he was just a people pleaser, he couldn’t let anyone down. You didn’t know why he was always so eager to make others happy.

“Kissing, touching, fingering, oral sex, what positions? What’s your kinks? I can provide it all.” 

“I want it all,” you whispered. He rolled on top of you, straddling your hips and caging you in with his body as he took your chin, tilting it upward and pecking you gently. Gauging your reaction, he looked down at you, you were looking up at him pleading for him to use you. But this wasn’t about him. He wanted to give you what you wanted.

He kissed you slowly, deeply, you felt loved, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. He grinned, pulling off his shirt before continuing to kiss you. His hands starting to wander along your body as he massaged your breasts, squeezing them, making you whimper and moan into his mouth. 

His plush lips moved to your neck and he smiled when he found out how sensitive you were there. “You bought me, pretty baby. Use me however you wish.”

Without hesitation you grabbed his face kissing him again and running your fingers through his hair. The music downstairs was loud but you still refused to make too much noise. His hands slid down your side and thighs before sliding back up and lifting your dress,  revealing your underwear which he quickly slipped down your legs. He didn’t waste any time. 

Spreading your legs and smiling up at you. “Please,” You breathed and he smirked, biting your thigh. You yelped feeling yourself grow wetter.

“My name is Jimin, use it?”

“Please Jimin.” You said and he smiled thankfully, obliging to your whines. 

“With pleasure my pretty baby.” He gripped your thighs and took your clit in his mouth, it was so sudden. You were so surprised that a loud moan pulled from your chest. You tried to stifle your moans and he mumbled, “Make noise baby, no one can here you and no one cares.” 

He began making enthusiastic noises while he caressed you with his tongue. He alternated between sucking and flicking your clit, his fingers curling up inside you pressing against all the sweetest spots. Your thighs trembled in his hands and he giggled against you, pulling back with his chin glistening. “You’re shaking.” 

“Please jimin I need you!”

“Ooh, you sound pretty when you say my name.” He smiled, removing your dress entirely and your bra before he took his belt, unbuckling it. You noticed the bulge in his pants as he slid his tight ripped jeans and briefs off. He took himself in his hand pumping lazily, he was  more than ready. 

“Is this really what you want?” He asked softly, calling your eyes back to his, he looked shy once more. As he grabbed a condom, you took it from him, and threw it onto the bed hands pulling him down over you.  

“I am on the pill,” your words made him smile, nudging your legs wider apart with his thighs and lined himself at your entrance. He took his time entering you, rolling his hips forward, sliding effortlessly inside you. Each thrust fills you up completely. 

“I apologize if I finish too quickly,” His eyebrows knitted together in concentration, his mouth forming an o-shape, his breathing becoming forced pants. “Oh god, you feel so good, I’m sorry!”

He came. The sounds he made were beautiful and you felt disappointed as he pulled out.  He smiled, “I always last longer the second time, if you are still willing? I haven’t satisfied you yet and that is what’s important. It is what you asked for.”

At your enthusiastic nod he flipped you over, pressing his hand to the small of your back and guiding you into position, your hips rolling forward so you were at the perfect angle to receive him. 

“Oh fuck!” You gasped, this made him feel deeper inside of you and the angle has  him pressing heavily against your G-spot. Making you cry out every time. “Don’t stop, please!”

“Don’t worry pretty baby, I would never until you tell me you are satisfied.” He grunted, reaching around your waist to press two fingers against you, stimulating you further in time with his thrusts. 

“Jimin, please!” The urgency in your tone was registered by him; he pressed your chest into the mattress and pistoned his hips trying to help you finish. Your eyes flashed white as an immense pleasure filled your body. You couldn’t hear anything or see anything, lost in a void of white for eternity, while the pleasure screamed through your body. It was maddening with  how nice it felt, but it faded back to reality and your eternity of bliss was, in fact, mere seconds.

Jimin didn’t stop, flipping you back over. He was inside you again. You came again in a short time and he looked down amazed. “Seems you come quicker the second time,”

“More!” You pleaded as you were chasing your high, that moment in the white void of pleasure when there was nothing else and you had no other worries.

He kept going. Each orgasm becoming less intense, and harder to reach. Until finally, instead of a white void you saw black and it was peaceful. But you weren’t alone. Jimin was there, just with you and you felt safe. 

You woke up a while later to people talking. Realising the dark void was actually a dream, involving you and Jimin. Opening your eyes you saw Namjoon and Jin standing at the end of the bed while Jimin spoke to them quietly. “She passed out after seven rounds.”

“Next time invite us to join. It is my room,” Namjoon laughed and you turned to see Jimin beside you, sitting up, dressed in everything but his shirt.

“You are awake.” He had a placed a damp cloth on your head, “I am sorry if it was too much, I didn’t mean to make you pass out.”

“No, it was amazing.” You laughed.

“Was everything okay, pretty baby?” He raised an eyebrow and tucked your hair behind your ear. Your cheeks flushed, “Anything you like or dislike so I know for next time?”

“Next time?” You asked.

“Of course, if you need me again,” he smiled.

“Um, well, you are really good at oral, I am sure other girls will enjoy that a lot, so keep doing that, but some girls might not like a fast pace so keep that in mind.”

“Hey, listen I am not planning on doing this with anyone else this is an exclusive offer for you.” He smiled rubbing the back of his neck, “I don’t really like sharing and it would feel too much like cheating if I did this with every girl that asked. I am a one at a time guy, if you ever need me, I am here.”

“Oh thank you, I will call if I ever need anything.” You nodded, taking your phone from him and turning to the other two grinning in the room. 

“You are both so cute,” Seokjin pointed at you both. You stepped out of the bed wearing Jimin’s shirt. It was quite large on you since he wore baggy clothes often. You felt a warm trickle and looked down to see the small trail of liquid both Jimin and yourself had created. It continued to run down your thigh, a hot white liquid that made each male in the room moan at the sight. Namjoon licking his lips, as if imagining the taste.

“Next time you use my room we all have to share.” Namjoon wiggled his eyebrows, earning a slap to the back of his head by Seokjin. 

“Didn’t you just hear him say he doesn’t share?”

“Look at the mess you made on my bed, that is amazing!” Your eyes widened as you turned to see the sheets darkened with mixed arousal, jimin was as flushed as you, his phone buzzing. 

“Someone downstairs needs something to eat,” You saw him adorn his hoodie and duffle bag, reaching into his Mary Poppins Esque bag and grasping the container of spaghetti he had mentioned earlier. “If you need anything let me know.”

You went to the ensuite and got dressed, looking in the mirror. You looked happy, even you could admit that. “How is she so blind, he looks for her at every party, always asks her if she needs anything because he hopes he can talk to her,” Seokjin said “Jimin and y/n I ship them so hard!”

“I will ship you so hard, come here.” You heard them start kissing and ducked out. “Thank you for letting me rest and use your bathroom!” You smiled, waving as you left the room before they could start anything.

Calling it a night you wanted to return the shirt Jimin let you borrow, he was over by the pool handing out a few things and he waved with a smile. “Jimin,” you said as you got closer, “Your shirt!”

“Ah thanks,” He placed it into his duffle bag and you nodded, feeling awkward. “I am going to go.”

Halfway to your car you heard, “Wait, Y/n!” you turned on instinct, genuinely surprised he knew your name. He stopped in front of you. “I um, I wanted to you know-”

He rambled for a while and you thought perhaps you or he was having a stroke. None of it made sense and you blinked. “Jimin slow down, I am listening!”

“I asked you every party for almost a year what was the one thing you wanted and you answered love every time and I was thinking...” He took a deep breath looking at you nervously playing with the hem of your dress. “Do you maybe want to go out?” 

If you like this please hit the heart or the button that looks like you are trying to throw it in reverse in UNO to share this with others. If you enjoyed the story please feel free to check out some of my other stories on my [Masterlist]

Click here for [Herb.2]

[heart-eye-harrington]

hype man

Request: 21 and 34 with Steve?

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: a few curse words

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21. “I’m (First Name) Fucking (Last name)!”

34. “Now I know where half my wardrobe went.”

from this prompt list

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When Steve asked you to come over to help him get ready for a first date, you didn’t hesitate to say yes. You weren’t sure which part of you answered, your heart or your head, because both were conflicted. They both knew you were head over heels in love with him, despite how much you mind pushed the idea into the corner, and how watching him practically skip around the room at the idea of taking someone who wasn’t you on a date was gonna hurt like hell. Despite all the cons, spending time with him outweighed them all, and you could never say no to Steve.

So here you are, sitting in his room waiting for him to come back and gush about how amazing his night was. Your homework was a nice distraction, but on that didn’t last long enough. You finished what feels like hours ago, and everything is tucked neatly back into your backpack, leaving you to wander his room.

You’ve been here countless times, but it’s never been this quiet. Visions dance around the room. 

You rushing in to wake Steve up when he’s overslept, his drowsy groans melting into warm laughter as you whack him with pillows. 

How everything seemed to shake when he turned his radio up full blast the day Queen had released their new album. He dragged you along before sunrise to get it as soon as the store opened, and rewarded you with over an hour of air guitar. You both headbanged so hard you had run to the pharmacy for Advil to relieve your pounding headaches.

His room isn’t the roaring fire it is when Steve’s here, but the knick-knacks and photos are embers sitting patiently awaiting his return. The absence of the usual warmness sends a shiver down your spine and sends you into his closet for a sweatshirt. 

After tugging the biggest one you could find over your head, you’re faced with the mirror on the inside of the door. Wedged in the corner is the photo booth strip from homecoming. 

You were able to pull him away for a moment and into the booth. The four moments captured are all beaming with joy. The last one, where you’re cheek to cheek with grins so big your eyes scrunch shut stands out, warming your heart at the happy memory.

Hearing the bedroom door softly click shut, you close the closet and see Steve, whose current state is a stark contrast from the pictures you were lost in.

His hair is disheveled as if he ran his hands through it a million and one times. His nose and eyes are bright red, tears threatening to fall. Your heart dives into your stomach. 

“Oh my god, Steve. Are you okay?” You rush to him and wrap him in your arms as if they can shield him from whatever hurt he’s feeling. 

“I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.” His voice creaks like an old floorboard, the honey usually present in his tone nowhere to be found. 

“She said she had a crush on me in high school, but I never gave her the time of day. I picked her up, and took her to a nice restaurant. I haven’t been on a date in a while and I wanted to make it special. She was quiet the whole dinner and waited until I paid the bill to tell me off about being a douche in high school. She wanted revenge or something, get me excited for a date, buy her a meal, let me think I had a chance with her just to turn around and call me an asshole.”

His speech is interrupted with sniffles and hiccups. As you rub his back and listen, anger boils the bile in your stomach. Before your mind can catch up with your mouth, you spit out.

“What an idiot” Despite Steve's face being buried in your neck, you can feel his eyebrows scrunch together in a quizzical look. 

“She didn’t even give you a chance! You’re not who you were back then, and if she listened to you, saw how you treated her, she might have had a change of heart and realized how amazing you really are. But she had tunnel vision on a stupid revenge plot that just wasted everyone’s time. Her loss.” 

Steve sniffles again, pulled back into the throws of sorrow, and you bring a hand to the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his wild locks. You whisper reassurances that are reinforced by your continued physical closeness, which you’ve learned Steve needs in times like these. 

Distance only comes when Steve pulls away a bit, really looking at you for the first time since his return from the awful date. When he sees you’re wearing one of his sweatshirts, he laughs, a bit muffled by his runny nose.

“Now I know where half my wardrobe went.” You look down at the tear-soaked cotton and blush. 

“Hey, I got cold.”, you pout, quickly thinking of how to avoid the conversation and bring it back to how to make up for his shitty night out. 

“I meant what I said earlier, you didn’t deserve to be treated like that”

“Well, I’ve treated people a lot worse than what I got tonight. I guess it’s karma coming to kick me in the ass. My name’s basically interchangeable with douchebag.” 

“Okay, what we’re not gonna do is shame spiral. Here-” you stand on his bed, motioning for him to follow, which he does after grumbling and taking off his shoes. Once you’re both on the sinking mattress, you continue, 

“Okay, we’re taking your name back. You’re not ‘King Steve’ or ‘douche’ or ‘Harrington’ or anything like that. You’re Steve Harrington. Now you say it.”

Steve shakes his head and licks his lips. “Come on, this is stupid.” 

“No, it’s not! Now say it!”

“I’m Steve Harrington.” He shrugs at the weak words, attempting to get down. You pull him back up by his bicep.

“Uh uh uh! You’re not done with this! We are reclaiming your name! Shouting it from the hilltops, er-” you motion grandly around the room, “bed top! Reclaim it! I need some conviction!”

“I’m Steve Harrington.” His voice, though monotone, is better.

You gesture again, and he repeats with a bit more effort. After a few times and some pushing from you, he’s practically beaming 

“I’m Steve fucking Harrington!” 

“Yes! You are! And that's amazing!!”  All you’ve wanted was to see his smile again, and now it’s the brightest thing in the room. The fire is back.

Steve wraps you in his arms and plants a quick kiss to the top of your head, the only way he knows how to show his emotions at the moment. 

“Thank you” he whispers in your hair. Neither of you can see the other’s blushing, but you can see how much you mean to one another. And that was all you needed.