#i want to give her a few of the chicken items

[sheepston]

The chicken apparels are making me feel like when its not almost 3am I should write a follow up fic for how Lefu is doing (she's VERY happy after running away!)

[giuseppe-yuki]

who is that?

max verstappen x ragdoll cat shapeshifter!reader

w.c.: 1.9k

warnings: suggestive content, curse words, jealous!max

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: who is that cat that max is playing with in the rb garage that is not you?

picture credits from pinterest :)

sitting on an elevated ball cat bed that was custom designed with max’s emblem on the side, it wasn’t hard to see that you were a little spoiled. hell, you even had your own minifridge stocked with fresh fish, veggies, fruit, and meat that max specifically ordered for you. at first, you had advocated against having your little corner of the red bull garage, not wanting to take up too much space, but max had convinced not only you but also christian to build the little cat corner, because who could ever say no to a three-time world champion? 

now, you were sitting daintily on the soft cushion of the bed, watching max finish the last of his fp1 laps. to no one’s surprise, he had the quickest time, being faster than charles by a third of a second. 

feeling a bit hungry, you let out a few mewls, sending a few of the engineers scurrying your way. ha, you thought. i have them wrapped around my finger. 

“you hungry, little kitty?” one of the engineer asks, petting your head. 

you blink your signature blue ragdoll cat eyes at her.

immediately, she jumps up, and strolls to your mini fridge. gingerly, she takes out some pre-prepared raw chicken out of the refrigerator, along with a couple of strawberries. after cutting up both items into small enough pieces with scissors stored on the side of the fridge, she sets the food in a small bowl in front of your cat bed. 

you jump off your elevated bed and walk a few laps around the engineer’s legs, rubbing your fur against her legs in a show of appreciation. the other engineers all coo in adoration, tilting their heads and smiling at you. you approach the bowl on the ground and gobble down the chicken and strawberries, quick. 

deciding you want pets now, you hop into another engineer’s lap and purr, which evokes him to start scratching your chin. but before he could give you any more pets, max pulls into the garage along with checo, signaling to you that fp1 was over. the engineer sets you back on the ground to start assessing the rb20 with everyone else. 

to your left, hannah schimtz strolls in from the pitlane, one hand clutching her headpiece and another holding a clipboard. you pad over to her through the chaos of the garage and jump onto her leg. she chuckles before setting down her things on a counter and picking you up. she gives you a few pats on the head, earning her a meow of happiness from you. gianpiero lambiase appears out of nowhere next to hannah, but you don’t mind as he starts stroking your fur. you nuzzle into hannah’s team kit in gratitude. 

when you lift your head and look across the room, you see your boyfriend has already gotten out of his car and standing next to checo. checo is animatedly talking with his hands, occasionally gesturing towards his car, but max is not looking at him. he stares directly at you in hannah’s arms, cool blue eyes staring you down. its filled with a familiar fondness, but it is also tinted with an emotion you don’t see often- jealousy. 

he turns and walks towards you, leaving checo looking at his retreating figure with a confused look on his face. (poor checo, you think.) 

“i’m going to hold my cat now,” he says pointedly to hannah, emphasizing the “my”. he snatches you out of hannah’s arms and holds you gently to his chest. you think you can hear his heartbeat through his sweaty fireproofs. 

turning on his heel, he yanks the driver radio earbuds out of his ear, one-handedly throws it on the counter behind his car, grabs you tight, and bolts out of the garage towards his driver room. 

“don’t you think that was a little much back there, maxie?” you question, lifting your head off his chest and peering at him. 

“umm, no, not really,” your boyfriend says. he squeezes you closer to him on the bed in his driver’s room, tangling your legs together.

you thread your fingers into max’s, using your other hand to fiddle with his fan-made mv1 bead bracelets and trace the patterns on his silver cartier bracelet. “if i may,” you start, lips close to the shell of his ear, “i would say…you were a little jealous back there- snatching me out of hannah’s arms. i just wanted a few pets, that’s all.” 

he pouts, scrunching his nose. he pulls himself away from you and adjusts himself on the bed, laying on his side and propping one hand on the side of his head. you can see the dark spots on his pillow where his head was, leftover droplets of water from getting out of the shower. he adjusts the simple black shirt that he pulled from his drawers a few minutes ago, and blinks at you innocently. 

“no i wasn’t,” he defends himself. “i just simply wanted to hold my pretty girlfriend after racing hard on the track after fp1.” 

you roll your eyes. “sure baby,” you giggle. he was such a lousy liar. it was kind of cute seeing him jealous though. you lean closer to him, laser focused on his soft lips. “just know that you’re the only person that can do this-” 

before you can put your glossy lips on his, max’s phone starts to buzz. 

he curses, pulling out his phone. “who the fuck is calling me?” 

the caller id lights up, showing the words ‘christian horner’ in blaring white letters. 

he scrambles off the bed, and turns to you. “i’m sorry, i have to take this,” he says apologetically. “i will be back, though.” he gives you a wink before walking out of the room.

lying on the bed by yourself, fix your hair a bit before pausing. “no way christian fucking horner just cockblocked me!” you say aloud, giggling to yourself.

two hours before fp2 starts, you find yourself in the paddock bathroom. you smooth down your hair, reapply your makeup, and start smothering lipgloss on your lips when you hear a voice behind you. 

“hey there, you’re max’s girlfriend, right?” a girl in a pretty patterned tube top and jeans smiles at you, tilting her head in question. 

“oh, yes, that’s me!” you respond, smiling back at her. before she can respond, you reach your hand out, and pluck a white feather off the back of her top. “you had a feather stuck on the back of your top by the way,” you explain to her, tossing it in the trash can next to the sinks. 

“haha thanks, i have no idea how that got there!” she says, scratching her head. she then reaches out her hand. “i’m oscar’s girlfriend by the way. nice to meet you!”

you strike up a conversation while she touches up her own makeup, even exchanging numbers. 

she was in the middle of explaining a funny story how she apparently “stole water” from the red bull motorhome when she pauses and points to a spot near your shoulder. 

“there’s like a pretty big bruise on your shoulderblade!” she says concerningly. “is everything alright?” 

you look at yourself in the mirror, and sure enough is a bruise, small enough to not be seen from far away, but too big to cover up unnoticeably. god, you were gonna kill max on sight. 

you struggle to come up with an appropriate excuse to tell oscar’s girlfriend. “i- um was kind of clumsy and bumped into a shelf in max’s driver’s room, and like- a giant vase art piece thingy fell on me!” 

she gasps in shock, “omg, what? i hope you’re okay now!”

you nod your head quickly. “yeah, i’m totally fine,” you say. “the vase didn’t even hurt that much.” 

after covering the hickey bruise with at least a half a gallon of concealer, you hurry over to the red bull garage. max must be a little worried, considering you were gone a little longer than expected because you were talking to oscar’s girlfriend. to your surprise, max is sitting on one of the data analyst’s chair, dangling a toy fish on a string over the head of a ragdoll cat. the cat bats at it, meowing.

“what the actual fuck are you doing? and who is that?” you burst out, marching over to max. this better be a prank, you think to yourself.

to your surprise, there is not a hint of held-back laughter on max’s face- only shock. “wait what?” he says, stunned. “if you’re here..then who is…?” he trails off. the cat sits on the ground between you both, blinking its blue eyes innocently. 

GP walks up to you and max, not noticing both of your shocked faces. he bends down and picks up the cat, cooing. “i know one of the engineers fed her earlier, but you don’t mind if i feed this one a bit of fish do you?” he doesn’t wait for an answer before stalking off to the fridge with the cat. 

you turn to max, eyes blazing. 

“i swear! i thought that was you!” he whispers to you frantically.

by the time fp2 was over, you were already back in max’s driver room. the door busts open, and in runs a sweaty max. he starts rambling (or should i say maxplaining?) the second the door is open- “omg, baby where is the cat? after fp2, i talked to gp and he said that you left with ten minutes left in fp2 with the cat? please please please tell me you did not kill the cat, i swear i did not know that it was not you! it was a random stray cat that somehow found its way into the paddock! i won’t even touch another cat ever again please?” 

he turns the corner of his driver’s room to find you in your cat form snuggling on the bed with a sleeping ragdoll cat. you turn to blink your glittering blue eyes at him while keeping a paw protectively around the other cat. 

your boyfriend sits down on the couch, relief oozing out of him. he gives both of you some head scratches. “i really thought you took the cat and killed it or something,” he exclaims. he then heads to the mini cooler next to his rack of race suits and pops open a can of red bull. when he turns back around, you are now sat next to the cat, running your hands over its soft fur.

“you really think i would do that, maxie?” you say, raising an eyebrow. 

he goes back into panic mode, trying to defend himself. “no, no, no, i just meant-”

you cut him off, laughing. “relax, baby, i’m just messing with you. besides, i think we have a new member in our family now! what should we name him?” 

max sighs with relief, and comes to sit next to you on the bed. he says the first name that pops into his mind. “how about we name him jimmy?” 

you raise your eyebrow for the second time. “jimmy?” you say incredulously. “you want to name the cat jimmy?”

“okay, okay,” he says, holding his hands up. “how about…sassy? that cat was really sassy with me when i found it in the garage! that’s why i thought it was you!” 

“what is that supposed to mean?” you say bewilderedly. 

before max can answer, the cat yawns loudly in your lap and nuzzles close to you.

“you know,” you remark, changing the subject,  “i’m honestly really glad you found this little kitty.” you lean over and give max a peck on the lips, tasting a hint of red bull. 

an idea hits you. “hey, why don’t we name him redbull?”

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso @my0hmary @mbappebby @madkohi @ralshatos

[hope-drunk]

HARVEST MOON

| a year ago, abby left you suddenly after a month long love affair. now she's back to convince you she's changed.

| cw: me writing southern accents and it's bad, talk of father death, jerry anderson is homophobic, talk of food, reader showers three times in this who knows why, f!reader, oral & fingering (r!recieving), petnames, umm that's it but like abandonment issues i guess? abby like dips hard LOL

| wc: 3.8k

The mugginess hasn’t let up in recent days, causing your hair to look a mess, and you to have a strong urge to be naked all the time. Getting comfortable in your bed was a pain. The sheets were too hot; the pillow pushing your sticky hair onto the back of your neck. You don’t think you’ve gotten a good night's sleep in ages. The fans in your room weren’t doing much; nothing could battle this southern heat.

You were already awake before your alarm went off at 6 A.M. You quickly silence the screeching sound of the clock and roll out of bed, throwing on a loose tank top that lays on your floor. You’re instantly annoyed by the fabric but try to push it off. You stroll into your kitchen, opening the fridge and standing there for a few seconds to absorb the cold air that blows out. You grab some scraps of breakfast and eat quickly, already running a tad behind because the heat is making you move slower. 

You go to the bathroom and take off the flimsy tank top and your panties. You step in immediately and let the cold water wash over you. Your shower goes faster than you wanted it to, but you step out and dry off. You don’t bother to dry your hair, hoping that the dampness might keep you cooled off for a little bit longer. You get dressed in your usual attire, a self cut tank top made out of an old t-shirt and jean shorts.

You walk to the field behind your house, first checking on the chickens, collecting the eggs the hens dropped and making sure they have food. Then you moved to the sheep, replacing their water and giving them their feed. 

After you think the animals are situated, you begin your walk into town. It’s summer days like these where you wish you owned a car, or even a bike. But in a town this small, it always seemed useless. Everything was a five minute walk. The only thing that was further than five minutes was the gas station that sat on the edge of town near the highway, and that was only about a ten minute walk. Your journey to the grocery store feels like it takes eons. But when you open the door and the air conditioning blasts you, you think you see heaven.

“Hot one, huh?” The store clerk says to you in response to your sigh of relief.

“Tell me about it,” you say, smiling politely and walking to grab a basket.

You take your time with your shopping, swinging the green basket against your leg over and over while you scan the aisles. You spend extra long in the freezer section, and decide to treat yourself to some popsicles, you put them in the basket and let the door close by itself. You don’t notice the pair of strong arms that are crossed by the door. 

You turn away to go get your next item, “Not even gonna say hello?”

Your head whips around before your body does. You gulp at the realization of who it is.

“Popsicles, huh,” she nods to herself, grabbing the box out of your basket. “Didn’t know you liked these ones, darlin’.”

You snatch them out of her hand and throw them back into the green plastic, “You don’t know anythin’ about me, Abby.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that.” Abby’s voice drips like southern honey, but it reminds you of gasoline. One spark from you and the town would be on fire. 

You don’t answer her, just go back to your shopping. You scan the shelves for the next thing on your list. You can see her out of the corner of your eye still following you around, but you don’t pay her any mind. It’s honestly a shame, because you were gonna spend your sweet time in the air conditioned store, and now you can’t, because Abby decided to show up.

You remember now that it was exactly a year ago today that she showed up in town before leaving a month later with no warning. She had seemed so perfect, so normal, you’d never felt like that before with anyone. You let her stay in your house. She was planning on just passing through, staying the night at the motel for the festivities then going on her way, but she told you you changed her mind. Abby told you that she wanted to stay and be with you. What a load of bullshit. 

You finish your shopping, continuing to ignore Abby as she trails behind you, in her stupid t-shirt, with her stupid muscles, and her ridiculous boots. 

“This all for y’then?” The cashier asks.

“That’ll do it.” You reply, pulling out the cash you’re using to pay. 

You take your bags and thank him, rushing towards the doors and pushing one of them open with your back. 

Abby stops at the clerk to get her brand of cigarettes; running out behind you after she pays with a crinkled up ten dollar bill.

“Hey! What’s the rush?” She says, rushing up to you. She smacks the pack of cigarettes on her palm before opening it and popping one into her mouth; swiftly lighting it with a blue lighter.

“Don’t wanna see you, Abs. Thought you would be able to figure that out.” You say, silently hoping that that will be enough for her and that she’ll turn around and never come back to your town. But Abby, ever so stubborn, continues walking next to you.

“What? You still mad about last summer? Told you I had to go.”

You scoff at her. “Yeah, then you also told me you were never gonna leave me. Wanted to help raise my chickens and sheeps. Live in my house with me. Start a life here. Look, I don’t have time for this; too goddamn hot to deal with your bullshit.”

She nods her head; takes a long drag of the almost gone cigarette. “‘Least let me carry your bags?”

That you oblige to, handing over the heavy plastic bags that you swear were getting sticky from the heat. You just wanted to be home, with your fans, and your animals; without Abby. You didn’t even want her to see the inside of your house. You didn’t want her to be in the four walls of your bedroom again; it would be painful for you. To see her in your house again, where she made you all those promises. It would be painful because now you know that all you were to her was a quick fuck and a free place to stay.

Your house comes into view and you pause in the road, motioning your hands so she’ll give you your bags back. She does reluctantly, and you can’t help but notice the droplet of sweat dripping down her large muscles. You huff away the memories, taking the bags back and walking up to your front door.

“Not even gonna invite me in? No lemonade for my hard work?” Abby asks, trying to make light of the situation.

“I seriously never want to see your face again, Abigail.” With that you open your door, slinking in and closing it behind you.

You press your back to the door once you’re inside; willing yourself not to cry about her. You’ve done enough of that; swear you could fill an ocean with your tears. You know that you shouldn’t get so worked up over something that lasted a month, but it was the first real thing you’ve ever had. It’s not like there were any other women who liked women around here, so when Abby rolled in and made you all those promises, you thought you had actually found something. You thought you would be able to start a life with her and do all the things you’ve dreamed about doing since you were a little girl. Then, she was up and gone, and you were left alone again.

It took you a while to get used to your solitude again, and you were doing a damn good job at it now. Sometimes you wonder if it was even Abby you missed, or if you just missed having someone to do everything with. You try to stop thinking about it, forcing your body off the door and into the kitchen. You slowly put all the groceries away, scared that when you finish your mind will wander. 

You do pretty good for the rest of the day. You keep yourself entertained and busy, tending to your animals and reading a book. You only think about Abby a few times, but are able to brush it off. You think you’ve got it under control; you think that her little visit didn’t affect you. Once it hits around 7 P.M. you huddle the animals into their respective cages and barns. You go back inside and take another quick cold shower. It’s hard work herding those animals, and even though the sun is getting lower, it’s not getting any less humid. You dry off and put on fresh clothes, walking out into your kitchen to prepare your dinner. 

What you don’t expect to hear is a knock at your door. You silently question it before waking up to the door swinging it open; prepared to tell off some church people who just won’t stop trying. But there she stands. Abby has a bouquet of assorted carnations and daisies, a few roses thrown into there. You cross your arms, waiting for her to speak.

“Will you please let me explain? Please? Just a few minutes and you can decide if you want me to really go or not.”

“I’m timing you.” You say, walking back into your house and sitting down on your couch.

Abby moves into your living room. She’s changed from what she wore at the store. She now has on jeans and a black cut off tank top and her same signature braid.

“I’m gonna try not to stumble over my words– been preparing for this. I loved being here with you, first of all. Leaving you was never because of you. My dad got real sick, the type where you go and say goodbye. He had been in and out of the ICU around that time, but, when I got that phone call, swear I could feel it in my bones that that was it.”

You straighten out your back. You knew a little bit about Abby’s dad. Mostly that they were very close until she came out to him.

“And I didn’t know how to tell you. Didn’t know how to tell anyone. I wish I could’ve ignored it and stayed with you but I just–” she shakes her head to herself.

“He’s your dad.”

“Yeah, he was my dad.”

The past tense makes you let out a sigh, suddenly your heart breaks for the girl all over again. You will your brain to remember what she did. You feel bad that she lost her dad, but she could’ve communicated.

“I’m sorry, Abby. But, you still had no right to leave me like you did.”

“I know, I know. I got scared. I knew if I stayed with you that– he wouldn’t see me. I could have handled it better. I had every intention of coming back sooner than now, but I felt like you wouldn’t wanna see me.”

“You’ve got that right.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know how this is supposed to work. All I know is that everything I told you is true. I miss living here. I hate running around the country anymore. I just wanna be here with you. Herd your fucking sheep and collect the eggs. Have you make me that killer omelet that I love. I miss you, all of you. Didn’t know what I wanted a year ago, but I do know. I’d like to be with you, if you’d have me.”

You try to process all that she’s saying; try to take in the massive amount of information she’s dumped into your hands. You just stare past her, straight at the wall. Do you want her to come back? You did– a few days ago when you were crying about being lonely. You don’t want to forgive her this easily though. What? A few words and an explanation and she’s just allowed in your house again? Hell no, there’s no way in hell that she can just creep back in here. What if she leaves again? Are you gonna embarrass yourself like that all over again?

“Abby…” you trail off, unsure of what to actually say to her.

“I know. I don’t want to be the victim here, and I’m sorry if I’m making it seem that way. I just want you to know that, it really, really, wasn’t your fault.”

“Thanks for that, cowboy.” She smiles at the nickname, you do too. Her long history of speedrunning through small towns made you come up with it. “Alright, well, you can stay for dinner. But, I have the right to kick you out at any time.”

“Yes ma’am,” she says. 

You start to make her favorite meal from you with ingredients you bought today. She keeps you entertained, staying out of your way but talking your ear off. It feels normal; it feels like old times. You can’t help but let her ease her way back into your space. She takes off her boots, undoes her braid and puts it up into a bun. You ask her to get you something and she knows exactly where it is. It feels too simple. Honestly, it feels like a dream. You feel like you’re floating through this strange reality where Abby never left and you’ve kept living in this home ever since she showed up this time last year.

You eat dinner at the table in the spots you always sat in. Continuing the laughter and the fun. You don’t even mind the heat anymore. You don’t care about anything other than Abby’s gray eyes staring back into yours. You get shy under her gaze all over again. When you’re both done, you can’t get up from the table, you get too invested in your conversation and neither of you want to disrupt it. You wish you could’ve kept your stoic face on, but Abby was something else. She always has been. She’s the only one who’s ever made you feel truly comfortable with yourself, in this town. Finally, you get up and take the plate from in front of her, moving it to the sink.

“That’s not what happened, and you know it.” Abby practically yells.

“I mean, I watched you fall in the sheep shit myself. Y’trying to gaslight me, Anderson?”

“I’m not saying I didn’t fall in the shit. I’m saying that what you’re saying led me to the sheep shit is wrong. I wasn’t looking at your ass and then tripped. I was– looking at the sign on top of the barn.”

“Well, your eyes were awfully low to be looking at the top of the barn.” You shrug your shoulders with a small giggle.

Abby waves her hand in the air, a small blush on her face from the memory of the second time she came to your house. 

“I missed you a lot, y’know.” Abby says, mostly under her breath.

When you look at her, she’s looking up at you through her eyelashes. Her chest rising and falling steadily. She sits with her legs slightly spread and her elbows on her thighs. Those strong fucking thighs. You thought you could get along with her as friends; you thought that’s what she wanted– to be friends now. 

You look away from her so you don’t give in. “Abby, I don’t know if I can.” 

“I’m here. I’m here again; it’ll be good, like it was before.”

“That’s what you said before you left. ‘I’m here for you. Never gonna leave you, sweetheart. You’ll never be alone again.’ Then I was. I was the loneliest I’d ever been. I don’t blame you for leaving, Abby. But I can’t take it if you leave again.”

Abby gets up from the table and walks over to you. She towers over you, grabbing your face between her hands and forcing you to look at her. “Not gonna leave you. Ever. I learned my fucking lesson. Feel like I need you to breathe. Like my chest was tight the entire time I was out of this goddamn town. Swear, the second I pulled in, I felt my lungs fill up for the first time in a fucking year. Please, sweetheart. I’m not gonna let y’down again.”

Her chest is moving more rapidly now. It’s hard to look in her eyes. She hasn’t taken hers off of you. “I swear.”

You push your lips up so they reach hers; she sighs into the kiss, hastily taking her hands away from your face and wrapping them around your body. You push her back away from the kitchen and towards the bedroom. She doesn't break the kiss once as she walks backwards, avoiding any and all furniture; like she’s always known where everything is. In a way she has, but it’s still impressive. A whole fucking year without her in your house and she still moves swiftly around the furniture towards your bedroom. She moves like it’s built in her bones; like she’s always meant to be here.

You enter the bedroom and she breaks away only to shove your discarded clothes that lay on your bed onto the floor. You rip your shirt off in the meantime, you were going to take off your shorts too, but Abby is back on you in a second. Kissing everywhere; licking everywhere. You don’t think your heart has ever beat faster. It’s scary how well she knows you. Just like the house, she still has every part of your body memorized. She still knows the spot below your collarbones that makes your hips buck. She knows how much rubbing the outside of your thigh while she kisses you turns you on. She knows that you need the anticipation built before you go straight into fucking. Abby knows you. 

She slides down your stomach, mouthing at the skin there, you push her head down, trying to get her to take the hint that you haven’t been laid in a year and you’re worked up enough. She scoffs into you and continues kissing you. A whine escapes your mouth, and she finally moves to where you need her. You lift your hips up while she removes your shorts and panties.

She starts to rub tight circles onto your clit, eyes connected to your face; waiting for you to look back at her. You don’t. You squeeze your eyes shut and try not to overthink the situation you’ve found yourself in. With every circle on your clit your head grows fuzzier, making this feel more and more like a dream.

“Not gonna leave you.” Abby says, like she can read your mind. “Never leaving your side again. You’re gonna be fucking sick of me, angel.”

You moan; open your eyes to take her all in. All you can manage is a nod. Abby growls and takes away her hand. You go to gasp, but in seconds she’s connected her tongue to your clit. You moan now, a sound deep from your chest that blossoms like a flower fed fertilizer. You forgot how good Abby was at this. The good memories pushed to the back of your mind. You’ve only been able to focus on her leaving for so long. The only thing you think about is waking up to that empty bed. 

She grunts into your cunt, “Missed how you fucking taste. S’goddamn sweet, princess.”

She’s here now, you remind yourself. She’s here forever. You’re sure the doubt will creep in at some point. You’re sure you’ll be scared to sleep next to her for a while. But right now, this is all that matters; her tongue drawing intricate shapes into you. You push your hand on top of her head.

“Don’t leave me,” you pant out.

Abby removes her mouth and pushes two thick fingers into you, forcing your back to arch off the bed. She moves up to your face, “Y’forget how to listen, doll? Gotta train you t’be my good girl again, huh? I ain’t leaving, never again. Got that?” 

You forgot how bad her accent gets when she’s turned on. 

“Answer me, tell me I’m gettin’ through that thick skull of yours.”

“Yes, Abby. I understand.”

“There y’go, sweet thing. Just lay back and take it.”

You do as she asks, finding it easy to fall back into submission under her. Your brain is basically blank by now, only focusing on the slow pull and push of Abby’s fingers inside of you. You moan and whine and buck your hips. Not scared to be messy or annoying. You’re not scared of anything in front of Abby. She loves you, you know it. She takes you how you are. 

“Don’t think I’m gonna– last long.” You say.

“That’s alright, so pent up, ain’t you? Let it all go for me. Let it all out.” She reconnects her mouth with your cunt and you know that you’re in for.

You feel the knot get tighter and tighter in your stomach. It feels like fire is spreading across your body. You feel a bead of sweat fall from Abby’s forehead onto you, and it gets to you. She’s real; she’s back. She’s eating you out and making you cum the way only she knows how to. The small band holding your orgasm back snaps. You cum with a sob, bucking your hips into her face so your clit brushes up into her nose. You start to cry from the pressure that was built up in you that’s finally being released. Abby works you through it, lets you grind on her face and you swear you can feel her smile into you.

She comes up to lay beside you when you finally stop twitching; shushing you when she removes her fingers.

“Missed seein’ you like that.”

“Bet you did,” you say, voice hoarse.

“Missed seein’ you in general, but the way you look when you cum, man. Ain’t nothing like it.”

You suddenly feel embarrassed by the crude talk, you roll over away from her and face your closet. She whispers a few sorry’s before using her arms to roll you back over and pull you into her chest. She kisses the top of your head. 

“It’s so hot I might die.” You say into her, tracing a shape on her chest.

“Wanna shower?” 

“Don’t gotta ask me twice.”

[isak-dot-gov]

Can you write an imagine where emily taking care of the reader when she is sick? thank youu

Sick Day

Pairing: Emily Engstler x Reader

Word count: 1245

Summary: Emily takes care of you while you're sick.

My Masterlist :)

............................

It started as a scratchy throat when you woke up. You ignored it at first, chalking it up to sleeping with the window cracked open and hoped it would subside soon. By the time the afternoon rolled around, your head felt stuffed with cotton, your body was aching like you’d run a marathon, and chills were running up and down your spine even though you were wrapped in the fluffiest blanket in the apartment.

You were curled up on the couch, eyes half-closed as the TV droned in the background. Emily had gone out earlier to run some errands, and though she’d texted to say she wouldn’t be long, you couldn’t help but wish she’d walk through the door already. Everything felt overwhelming—your pounding head, the way your nose refused to cooperate, and the effort it took just to keep your eyes open.

When the door finally opened with the familiar creak, you managed a weak, “Hey, Em,” before a coughing fit overtook you.

“Baby?” Emily’s voice was sharp with concern as she closed the door behind her. In a matter of seconds, she was in the living room, crouching beside the couch to look at you. Her blue eyes scanned your face, taking in your pale skin and flushed cheeks. “You look like you’ve been hit by a truck. What’s going on?”

You groaned, pulling the blanket over your face in embarrassment. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I love you too Em,” you croaked, your voice barely audible.

“Don’t even try to sass me right now.” She gently pulled the blanket down, pressing the back of her hand against your forehead. Her brows furrowed immediately. “You’re burning up. Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this bad?”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you mumbled, looking away.

Emily let out a soft huff, her lips twitching into a smile despite the situation. “You’re literally my favorite person. How could you ever bother me?” She leaned down, pressing a light kiss to your warm forehead. “Stay put. I’ll take care of everything.”

You watched her disappear into the kitchen, the sound of cupboards opening and closing blending with the faint hum of the TV. She returned a few minutes later, balancing a tray in her hands with an assortment of items.

“Okay, so here’s the plan,” she said, placing the tray on the coffee table and sitting down beside you. “We’ve got soup—nothing fancy, just chicken noodle. Tea with honey because you sound like a frog. A cool washcloth and some medicine for that fever.”

You wrinkled your nose at the sight of the medicine. “No way. That stuff is disgusting.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “It’s not up for debate. You’re taking it.”

“I don’t need it,” you insisted, crossing your arms. “I’ll just sleep it off.”

“Babe.” Emily gave you a look that was somehow both stern and affectionate. “You can barely sit up without looking like you’re about to pass out. The medicine will help.”

You shook your head stubbornly, burying yourself deeper in the blanket. “I’ll manage.”

Emily sighed dramatically, sitting on the couch beside you. “Okay, fine. Let’s try this another way. If you take the medicine, I’ll let you pick whatever we watch tonight. Anything you want.”

You peeked out from under the blanket, eyeing her suspiciously. “Even if it’s one of those cheesy rom-coms you always complain about?”

“Even those,” she conceded with a smirk. “I’ll sit through the entire thing without making one sarcastic comment. That’s how much I love you.”

You pouted but eventually relented, sticking out your hand. “Fine. Give it to me.”

Emily grinned triumphantly, pouring the dose and handing it to you. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

You downed the medicine with a dramatic grimace, shuddering at the taste. “Ugh, you’re lucky I love you.”

“I know,” she teased, leaning over to kiss your temple. “And now you’ll feel better in no time.”

“You’re too good to me,” you whispered, your voice raspy.

“Of course I am,” she replied, brushing a strand of hair out of your face with a soft smile. “I love you, and I can’t have my girl feeling like this.”

Her words made your chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with being sick. You mustered the energy to smile back at her as she tucked the blanket more securely around your shoulders. She handed you some tea, holding the mug steady while you took a sip. The warmth soothed your sore throat instantly.

“Better?” she asked.

You nodded. “A little bit.”

“Good.” Emily reached for the washcloth she’d prepared, gently dabbing it against your forehead. Her touch was cool and soothing, and you let your eyes flutter shut as she worked. “You’re stuck with me today, by the way. No arguments. I’m officially your personal nurse.”

You cracked an eye open, looking up at her. “Does that mean I can boss you around?”

She chuckled, the sound low and comforting. “Don’t push your luck. Now eat your soup before it gets cold.”

Obediently, you took a few bites, the warm broth doing wonders for your aching body. Emily stayed by your side, occasionally checking your forehead and making sure you were sipping your tea. When you finally set the empty bowl back on the tray, she settled in beside you, pulling you into her side.

“Let’s put something on to distract you,” she said, grabbing the remote. “What do you feel like watching?”

“Something we’ve seen a million times,” you murmured, your head resting on her shoulder. “I don’t have the brainpower to keep up with anything new.”

She smiled and put on your favorite show, the familiar theme music filling the room. Her arm draped around your shoulders, pulling you closer as the two of you sank into the couch. You could feel the steady rhythm of her breathing, her presence grounding you in a way that nothing else could.

As the day went on, she stayed by your side, only getting up to grab refills of tea or adjust the blanket when you shifted uncomfortably. When you dozed off, she brushed your hair out of your face and pressed a kiss to your temple. And when you woke up, feeling groggy but slightly better, she was still there, scrolling through her phone with the volume turned low so she wouldn’t disturb you.

“You’re still here?” you asked, your voice thick with sleep.

Emily looked up, her lips quirking into a smile. “Of course I am. Where else would I be?”

You reached for her hand, squeezing it weakly. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Her smile softened, and she leaned down to kiss your forehead again. “You just have to be you. That’s more than enough.”

As the sun set and the room grew dim, Emily helped you get ready for bed, practically carrying you when your legs felt wobbly. She tucked you in, making sure the extra blankets were just right before climbing in beside you.

“You’re not gonna get sick, are you?” you asked, your voice filled with worry.

“If I do, you can take care of me next time,” she teased, wrapping her arms around you. “But for now, don’t worry about me. Just rest, babe. I’ve got you.”

With her warmth beside you and her steady breathing lulling you to sleep, you knew that even on your worst days, Emily would always make everything better.

[feelbokkie]

L♡VE IN F♡CUS | Chapter 22

WARNINGS: swearing, mention of food and eating, depiction of an anxiety attack

PAIRING: idol!Changbin x fem reader

GENRE: smau, crack, angst, fluff

P♡V: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

SUMMARY: Amateur concert photographer Y/n has recently been promoted to junior music journalist. Her first assignment? An exposé on the popular Kpop boy group, Stray Kids. Spending an entire tour doing in depth interviews with eight men seems simple enough, but one member isn't exactly open to the idea. Will Y/n be able to break down the walls around his heart, or will her big break turn into a big disaster?

TAGLIST: ♡PENED

W♡RD C♡UNT: 2,972

SCREENSH♡T C♡UNT: 21

A/N: I wasn't planning on writing this chapter so soon but on of you sent me a ko-fi and it kinda motivated me to get this chapter done and out.

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

©feelbokkie (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

You flip through the menu for the fifth time trying to figure out what to eat. Hyunjin and Wonseok happily chat along in their own little world about some art movement—you lost the plot of their conversation ages ago when they started about a specific type of paint and technique that you’re not even going to try to pronounce. Changbin sits across from you, absent-mindedly fiddling with his menu and nodding to the ongoing conversation.

“Are we boring you so much that you’re just going through the menu? Again?” Wonseok asks suddenly.

“I don’t know what to eat,” You grumble quietly.

Wonseok reaches over and turns a few pages in your menu. When he finds the page he's looking for he traces the page with his finger until he lands on one of the menu items. "They have fish and chips right here."

"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd take us to an actual restaurant. I can't order fish and chips while the three of you order...whatever you're going to order. It's like if I went to a restaurant back home and just ordered tteok-bokki...or if we were in the States and I got chicken tenders and fries." You gently push Wonseok's hand away from you and roll your eyes.

Wonseok pulls back his hand and brings it to his temples, almost as if he's starting to get a headache. "This is probably the only time I'm going to get to treat professional idols to a meal, I'm not just going to give them street food. Just order what you really want to eat because you're not going to be able to order fish and chips for dinner at the place we're going to. I don't want to hear you complain about not eating what you wanted for the rest of my life."

You huff out a 'fine' as you close your menu and set it to the side. Your eyes land on Changbin who is quietly scribbling something on a piece of paper that seems to have materialized. You quietly shake your head and turn your attention to Hyunjin who is looking between you and Wonseok, thinking hard about something.

"You know, Wonnie, Hyunjin is an amazing artist." You pull up your broken arm from resting on your lap. "He's the one who drew all over my cast. He posts some of his stuff on his Instagram. He's probably even carrying around his sketchbook in that tote bag of his..."

"Ah, noona..." Hyunjin's voice trails off as he scratches the back of his neck. You can't see his ears under his hat but you can almost imagine how red they're getting.

Wonseok takes your broken arm and carefully examines the doodles and drawings on your cast. Most of them are flowers and plants. Occasionally, there are little characters like the BbokAri he drew next to Felix's message and the puppy next to Seungmin's. There's hardly any room left for anyone else to write anything. Before you forbade any of the members from hanging out with you without someone else there, Hyunjin would find his way to you when he was bored and draw on your arm.

"Wow, these are amazing, Hyunjin! Do you mind if I look at your sketchbook?"

Your arm is returned to you as Wonseok and Hyunjin get wrapped up in yet another art-filled conversation. Changbin is still focused on his piece of paper, scribbling away. Part of you wishes you could pull out the small tablet you brought with you so you could work on editing photos on the ride to the gallery. But you know that'll only cause Wonseok to scold you for working when you're not supposed to. If you could offer more thought to Wonseok and Hyunjin's conversation that isn't just regurgitated garbage from your first-year introduction to art history course that you took back in university, then you could easily join in their conversation.

Deciding to bite the bullet, you sit up a bit straighter in your seat and rest your chin in your good hand. "What are you so focused on writing there Changbin?"

There's a moment of silence between the two of you. He pauses writing but you're not sure if he heard you or is thinking of what to write.

"Lyrics," He mumbles so softly that you almost miss it amongst the noise that is Wonseok and Hyunjin chattering loudly beside you.

"Did you get an idea just now?" You perk up in your seat a bit. "Can...can I see? I won't write about it. It's all off the record."

Changbin's head stays low, focusing on writing his lyrics. It's only now that you're reminded of his inability to focus on more than one thing at a time. The fact that he answered you earlier is strange and probably the most he can do.

You watch him silently as he works. You take note of all of the little things you see. Like the way his brows twitch as he tries not to furrow then while he scribbles something out. Or how the fingers on his nondominant hand dance on the table while his head subtly bops along to a rhythm only known to him. Whether he's simultaneously creating a beat in his head while he works or he's remembering a song that one of the other members of 3racha made is another unknown factor that you wish you knew the answer to. You notice the way he mouths out the words he's writing to himself and how quickly he presses his lips together and shakes his head when it appears to not flow correctly. You can only imagine that this is what it was like watching Michelangelo paint the Sistine Chapel; hypotonic.

You only break out of your trance when your server comes to the table and takes your order, something that neither you nor Changbin noticed until Wonseok and Hyunjin told you. And that's when Changbin finally looked up and caught you staring at him, forcing you to look away as heat rose to your face. Wonseok took advantage of the situation and ordered your food for you before you could change your mind.

After lunch, the four of you decided to walk around London for a bit. When you were working with Han and Seungmin yesterday, you made sure to avoid the more populated and obvious tourist areas, only capturing notable landmarks in the distant background. With more freedom to explore, you all head to the more touristy areas so Hyunjin and Changbin can blend in more seamlessly.

As you walk along the crowded streets, the earlier pain you felt inside the art galley quickly comes back. You're paying less attention to the conversation between Wonseok and Hyunjin and more to your surroundings. Despite the cool day, you feel suffocatingly hot. Almost like something is sucking all of the air out of your lungs.

"...Y/n!"

You snap out of whatever daze you're in at the sound of Wonseok's worried voice. You glance up to meet three concerned faces watching you carefully.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" Your voice is thick is unsteady as you're unable to meet any of their eyes.

"Are you okay? You're walking slowly. I thought we lost you in the crowd for a moment there."

You swallow hard as you try to settle your rapidly beating heart. "I think I ate too much earlier. My stomach hurts."

"You look kind of pale, noona," Hyunjin chimes in. "Maybe we should head back to the hotel?"

You wave Hyunjin off quickly. "N-no, it's okay. I just need a moment."

"I'll go get you some water." Wonseok's voice softens with a gentle tone as he looks around for a shop.

Hyunjin places one hand on Wonseok's shoulder, stopping him from trying to look through the crowd. He pulls his bucket hat off with his other hand, gaining a clear view of the area. "We've been here a few times. I think I know where there's a shop nearby. I'll help you find it, hyung."

"Okay, thank you. Changbin, are you okay watching Y/n?" Wonseok asks the younger man.

Too focused on the unsettling feeling growing through your body, you don't notice that Changbin's already watching you. He's been silently keeping an eye on you since you started to fall behind on your walk. Had Wonseok waited a second longer to notice you, Changbin would have said something to bring their attention to you.

"I got her," He says simply.

With that, Hyunjin tosses something at Changbin and leads Wonseok forward through the crowd. Changbin quietly pulls you off to the side away from the crowd, under the shade of a tree. You mumble out what you hope is a 'thank you,' and focus on Changbin's shoes. They're white sneakers a blue stripe going through them. Subconsciously, you start to count the small holes near the end of the shoe while you place your hand on your chest. You feel your heart beating rather quickly like it's beating a little too hard and might give out at any moment. You apply as much pressure with your hand and take deep, unsteady breaths as you try to calm your heart.

You feel something cover your head, partly obstructing your vision and muffling the outside noise. You look back up at Changbin who is now adjusting Hyunjin's bucket hat that he put on your head.

"Professional idol secret," His words come slowly as he continues to fix the rim around the hat. "A lot of us don't do well in crowds so we wear bucket hats to block out the noise and the view a bit. Fans think we wear them to hide our hair for comebacks, but most of the time it's to protect our sanity."

You swallow dryly, unable to wet your suddenly parched throat. "I go to concerts and fan signs for a living. I do well in crowds."

Changbin crouches down so you can see him under the protection of the bucket hat, a tender smile warms his whole face. It's the first time you've seen him smile since the gallery. "In the past, yeah, but...you have the same expression on your face that you've been getting when we're at the airport lately. You kind of look like Hannie when he's having an anxiety attack."

"I don't have anxiety attacks," You're not sure if you're telling Changbin or reassuring yourself. You can't remember a single moment in your life where you've had an anxiety attack. So why would you start now?

"Okay," Changbin nods before standing up straight again, your view of him is once again obstructed by the hat. He gently takes your hand off of your chest and places it on his own. "At the very least, match my breathing. You sound like you just ran a marathon and I can't help you if you pass out. I don't know cpr."

The two of you stand there for a moment. Changbin's hand is firmly on yours as he keeps it on his chest. You have no choice but to match his breathing by following the steady rising and falling of his chest. You can feel the subtle, yet rapid thuds of his heart beating in his chest despite how calm he is.

Slowly, but surely, your own breathing falls into its own steady rhythm and the strange feeling in your body dissipates. You're not exactly sure how long the two of you stand like that, but eventually you drop your hand from his chest and Changbin let's you.

"Better?"

You slowly nod your head. Most of your discomfort is gone, but you still feel jittery. Almost as if you injected straight caffeine into your bloodstream. "Yeah, I just need to sit down."

Changbin doesn't ask further questions and instead leads you to the small grassy area near the tree and urges you to sit. He joins you on the grass, falling back into silence. Now that you're relatively back to normal, you can't help but avoid looking at Changbin. You're more thankful for the hat now that it can help you avoid his gaze.

The two of you sit there in silence for a few more minutes before Wonseok and Hyunjin find you. Hyunjin is about to question why you're wearing his hat before Changbin stands up and pulls Hyunjin to the side for a moment to talk to him.

Wonseok takes one of the empty spots beside you and rummages through the plastic bag he brought back with you. He pulls out a water bottle and a small metal tin and hands them to you. "I watched a TikTok ages ago and a doctor on there said that mint is supposed to be good for an upset stomach."

"Thank you," You smile tiredly at Wonseok.

Hyunjin and Changbin make their way back to you. Hyunjin takes the other open spot next to you while Changbin sits on the other side of him. They're quiet for a moment while you continue to drink your water and eat the mints that Wonseok bought. Wonseok passes out the other water bottles from his bag to Hyunjin and Changbin.

Surprisingly, Changbin breaks the silence first, asking if the store that Wonseok and Hyunjin went to was crowded. Then the conversation shifted to what everyone planned to do later. Wonseok tells them about your now tentative dinner plans, which leads to an argument. You change the subject to see what the newlywed couple of the group had planned. The conversation shifts again, this time to souvenirs that all of you want to get. Which of course leads to another teasing argument that ends with Wonseok trying to make you spill water on yourself.

"You two are such a cute couple. How long hav--"

You choke on your water as Hyunjin's words catch you off guard and trickle down the wrong pipe. Wonseok has his own visceral reaction, one that you don't see but you can hear the sound of him gagging at the question. Still, Wonseok slaps your back to help you get the water out.

"We--are not--dating." You choke out as you try to regain your composure.

"Y/n is like my little sister," Wonseok adds as he drops his hand back to his side.

Both Hyunjin and Changbin have confused expressions as they watch the two of you. Hyunjin opens and closes his mouth like a fish as he lets out confused babbles. "Sorry, I just thought...you two are...when..."

"Wonseok hyung is older than you but you two talk casually. Plus you're so close." Changbin says finally. Hyunjin shuts his mouth and nods quickly, agreeing with Changbin's reasoning.

"That's because Wonnie is a pathological liar--ouch!" You rub the spot on your leg where Wonseok hit you and glare at him. Although, you're not sure he saw your face through the hat.

"Stop telling people that I'm a pathological liar." You don't have to see to know that he's rolling his eyes. Wonseok shifts a bit and faces Hyunjin and Changbin. "I enlisted right after I graduated high school to get my military service over with. I ended up liking it so much that I stayed for two more years. When I finally enrolled in university, I was so much older than everyone in my classes that I just never mentioned how old I was. I met Y/n our senior year during our internship so I never said anything. She didn't know that I was older until we got our official IDs with our birth year on them."

"And he's so much older," You crack a smile.

"Stop that, I'm only 3 years older than you."

"Whatever," You wave him off as you turn back to the two younger men. "Besides, we're really like family. His parents treat us like siblings."

"Plus I have a girlfriend."

"And he has a girlfri..." Your voice falters in the middle of your sentence as you think about it for a moment. You turn to Wonseok and blink for a moment as you try to process what's happening. "You got a girlfriend? You actually got a woman to talk to you? Romantically? Who is it? Do I know her?"

His lips form a line so tight that the skin around them turns white while he tries to think. You flip part of the bucket hat up so you can see his have better. He's looking down at a blade of grass, contemplating something before he meets your eyes. "Frankie,"

"My Frankie?"

"Well, technically our Frankie but yeah." He sheepishly scratches the back of his neck.

"Oh," Your heart rapidly sinks to the bottom of your stomach.

You physically bite your tongue to prevent yourself from asking a million questions. Knowing that your best friends are dating behind your back hurts. Especially when there's an unspoken agreement against keeping secrets. So why did…

"I'm going to throw this all away and then we can explore a bit more." You get up quickly and take everyone's now empty water bottle.

If you stay where you are and continue to let your mind wander any further, you're going to either say something rude to Wonseok or burst into tears. You're happy that your friends found happy relationships. But they kept it from you and the idea of that doesn't feel good in your head or your heart.

"Noona--"

Wonseok puts his arm out, preventing Changbin from going after you. You're out of ear range as you walk quickly to the trashcan. Wonseok turns to both younger men and shares a small smile. "I get it but if you try to comfort Y/n when she's upset, it's going to become a bigger issue. Trust me, she hate when people see her upset or cry. Just let her have a moment and then she'll be okay."

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

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[redrose10]

Just something fluffy I’ve been thinking about…

“Oh wow, those are absolutely beautiful!”, you exclaimed setting the grocery bags down on the counter. Walking over to get a better look at the large bouquet of tulips you couldn’t help but smile.

“You made a great choice. Tulips are my favorite flower too.”

Your best friend Yoongi walked over, “Yeah the florist did a great job.”

“So I got all the ingredients for the dinner. Luckily it’s pretty simple to make so we should be done in plenty of time for your date tonight.”, you said as you began pulling out the items.

When your best friend told you that he was planning on asking out this girl he really liked and he really wanted you to help him put together the perfect date you just couldn’t say no. Even if hearing that he was going to ask someone out that wasn’t you did cause your heart to hurt a little.

Yoongi had told you that this mystery girl loved tulips and since your favorite flower also happened to be tulips he had asked you to pick out a bouquet. Which you were happy to do.

Then he asked you to help him cook her favorite dinner for the occasion. You thought it was a little odd that his date also happened to love chicken alfredo and double fudge brownies just like you because what are the odds? You were just glad that it was a dish you were well versed in making so you knew she was going to love it.

The brownies were in the oven and the sauce was coming together so while you had a few minutes you encouraged Yoongi to go get dressed.

As he stood in front of you holding up two shirt options so you can help him pick which one looks best with his black dress pants,

“No I think the black shirt looks better. I’ve always told you that you look great in all black.”, you’d replied not noticing the blush creep up his cheeks.

“Put on some of that cologne you have. You know that really expensive Versace one. It smells so good.”, you shouted as he ran back to his room to finish getting ready.

You were finishing up the table setting when Yoongi finally returned. After setting the last wine glass down you looked up loosing your breath for a moment. Your crush on Yoongi has grown exponentially the last year. You never meant for it to be that way, but some things just happen. Seeing him look this handsome, putting this much effort into a date for another woman pained you, but also made you fall a little more in love with him. But you were determined to pushed that all aside just so he could be happy.

“How do I look?”, he asked spinning to give you a 360 view.

He had been working out more recently and it definitely showed by the way the fabric clung to his torso and biceps. The dress pants were tailored perfectly showing off his slim legs. He’d gotten away from wearing earrings lately but you noticed the two hoops you’d given him for Christmas two years ago. And he did put on a little of that cologne you loved. He looked like the man of your dreams.

“Like a chiseled statue of a Greek God carved by Michelangelo himself.”, you quipped.

“Wow Y/N you’re so weird.”, he snorted.

“But seriously, do you think it’s too much? I want her to like it.”

You put on your best fake smile, “You look great Yoongi. She’s going to think you look very handsome.”

The pasta finished boiling so you added it to the sauce and topped it with a little more cheese. The brownies were cooling on the rack and you reminded Yoongi about the vanilla ice cream in the freezer that you thought would be a nice touch.

“What time is she supposed to get here?”, you asked.

“Umm 7:00.”

You glanced at the clock and noticed it was flashing 6:58.

“Yoongi why didn’t you say something?! She’s gonna be here any minute and I don’t think she’s going to be happy to see me here.”, you said frantically running around trying to grab your things.

As you ran towards the door Yoongi followed close behind.

“Remember not to let the brownies cool in the pan too much or they might sink. And remember the ice cream.”

“Y/N”, he whispered.

“Oh and slice the chicken before adding it to the pasta. It looks nicer and will be easier to eat.”

“Y/N…”

“And show her the flowers when she first gets here. It’ll be a nice surprise. Remember to tell her she looks pretty too.”

“Y/N…”

“And most of all text me afterwards and let me know how it goes.”, you’d said finally getting your shoe on that you had been struggling with.

“Y/N wait!”, Yoongi finally shouted.

Turning around you looked surprised, “What? Yoongi I have to go before she gets here.”

He chuckled to himself, “Y/N, you can’t seriously be this oblivious?”

“What do you mean?”, you asked confused.

He walked over standing just a few inches away from you, “Y/N I had you get tulips that YOU picked out. They’re YOUR favorite flower. I had you help me cook YOUR favorite meal. I bought YOUR favorite bottle of wine. I had you help me pick out an outfit that YOU would like. I wore the cologne YOU like. I mean I thought I was being obvious but I guess not.”

Looking around the room it did kind of make sense. They were all things that were your favorites, but you were so hung up on the fact that you never thought Yoongi would ever like you that way so you really thought he had a date with someone else.”

You chuckled, “I mean I did notice some similarities, but I didn’t think you’d ever actually like me like that so I thought it was all one big coincidence.”

Yoongi took your hands into his. His thumb lightly running over a small burn you got from the brownie pan, “Y/N, I like you a lot. I have for a really long time. I just didn’t know how to tell you. I guess I was just hoping you’d get the hint. I’d really like to ask you to be an official couple.”

“You’re so adorable.”, you chuckled as you watched him nervously stare at the floor.

“Yes, of course. I’d love that.”, you smiled reaching over and placing a kiss on his lips.

As Yoongi served you the dinner you suddenly had a realization, “So you had me plan our first date and also go to the grocery store and help cook and I had to pick out my own flowers?”

Yoongi nervously scratched the back of his neck, “Yeah um both my smartest and dumbest decision. But at least I know you’ll like everything.”

“Wow you’re definitely doing all of the dishes.”, you laughed.

He leaned over giving you another kiss, “Already planned on it babe.”

[all54321]

Wildlife Session 7 Superpowers!

This one sounds like a manageable one to collect, unless they change- like with the Secret Life tasks these will go in the Minecraft tab list order. If I’m missing any intricacies of someone’s power, please reply/ask about it! I like keeping this lists as thorough as possible.

Bdubs: Can sleep at night and set the time to day and can slow time down.

Etho: Gets a mace and wind charges launch him much higher into the air then normal, he also takes no fall damage.

Gem: Can astral project, which sends her into spectator mode and leaves a clone of her body behind. If that body is hit she’ll return early.

Scar: Can launch people back 30 blocks and can ride on other players/mob. While activated he also has thorns.

Grian: Can copy other people’s super powers, it lasts for 5 minutes in which he loses it.

Martyn: Can hear from any point that he can see, the audio has a radio-like filter over it.

Lizzie: Can inflict blindness on everyone nearby, she also turns invisible for a few seconds.

Pearl: Can launch herself into the air and has an invisible elytra to glide down with

Ren: Can disguise himself as any player

Scott: Can turn into any mob that he looks at. If he’s not looking at any mob he will change into either a cow, pig, sheep, or chicken.

Joel: Can triple jump and takes no fall damage.

Jimmy: Can turn fully invisible (including items) however long he wants

Tango: Gets super speed and frost walker, however it also gives him hunger.

Cleo: Can raise the dead (Mumbo and Skizz) and order them what to do, but they only have 4 hearts.

BigB: Can spawn three creakings that are friendly to him. The creakings won’t disappear and can still move even if he’s looking at them.

Impulse: Can teleport and takes no damage from using ender pearls. If staring at someone and activates the power he can swap places with them, however it gives the player swapped resistance for a few seconds.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

First time together - Christmas With You

A/N: Here we are with their first time together! Thank you @ccbsrmsf1 for your constant support 💛

Pairing: Tony Stark x Single Mom! Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, tons of fluff.

Christmas With You Masterlist

.

“How about chicken and potatoes?”

“Too basic.”

Pepper resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her boss who was pacing about while discussing ideas for cooking a romantic dinner for you.

“Okay, how about grilled fish? The oven would do most of your work.”

“Hmm. What if she doesn’t like fish?” He murmured, wanting this to be just perfect.

“Tony, you’d have better luck just ordering in.” Pepper sighed, now out of options for him to cook something that was fancy and yet manageable per his standards and cooking skills.

Tony threw her an annoyed look before grabbing his phone and texting you about your allergies and food preferences trying his best to make it sound like it was for his general knowledge.

You smiled looking at his text, it had been a difficult day at work and you were looking forward to a relaxing bath with some candles, some comfort food and a quiet night in.

Are we playing twenty questions? When’s my turn? :P

You typed with a giggle, watching the three dots appear almost instantly.

Your relationship had been nothing short of perfect these past few months. You’d begun to crave his touch and presence more and more, your mind often drifting to naughtier things each time you were together. Tony hadn’t been too pushy when it came to sex. Which came as yet another surprise considering the colourful history of the man. He continued to surprise you in the best ways possible.

But now you were ready. Definitely ready.

Your parents had insisted on taking Noah to their house for the weekend since your cousin and her family were visiting with their kids. Noah loved them dearly and it didn’t take much convincing on his part.

After a quick call to check up on Noah, you slipped into the bath with an audible sigh, closing your eyes and letting the day’s worries dissolve in the soothing hot water. It was short-lived though since the sound of your doorbell irritated the peace. Before you could grumble about it, your phone vibrated, revealing a text from your boyfriend.

I’m here to kiss away your troubles, my gorgeous Y/N. Open the door? x

Shaking your head with a fond smile, you grabbed a bathrobe and went downstairs to open the door. There he stood, Mr. Tony Full-of-surprises Stark dressed down in a light jumper and jeans, holding a basket with an assortment of food items and a bottle of your favourite wine.

To his amazement, he saw you practically jump in his arms before attacking his lips in a fierce kiss which he welcomed most eagerly. Walking you back inside, he kicked the door shut with his legs without breaking the kiss.

“And a very good evening to me.” He chuckled when you finally pulled back, still holding him close, foreheads touching.

“I had a rough day.” You murmured quietly, hiding your face in his chest, breathing in his distinct scent that warmed you up.

“Oh! Did I interrupt bath time? I’m sorry.”

Shaking your head, you looked at the basket and then back at Tony who scratched the back of his neck with an almost shy smile.

“I brought stuff to cook you dinner. Figured we could have a cosy date night in?

Why don’t you go upstairs and finish your bath? I need time to set everything up anyway. Just let me know where you keep your fire extinguisher, you know just in case.”

You giggled before standing on your tippy toes to give him a soft kiss once more, touched by his sweet gesture.

“You know you’re perfect?” You murmured against his lips.

“I have been told. Yes.” Tony laughed as you lightly smacked his arm, stealing a couple more kisses before letting you go.

You spent a good amount of time prepping yourself for what could possibly be your first time with Tony Stark. A good scrub down and wash with your best body wash, shaving of necessary bits and picking the best set of lingerie.

Yep. You were definitely prepared to get laid tonight.

Downstairs, Tony had placed the fish in your oven - that was after an emergency call to Pepper for making sure it wasn't under or over-seasoned. The asparagus was ready, and the salad tossed, the wine sat on the dining table he had decorated, complete with candles and flowers.

He was hoping you'd like everything.

Hearing your muffled footsteps, Tony rubbed his hands together and came around to greet you at the bottom of the stairs. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of you. Despite dressed simply, you looked stunning, your scent enveloped his senses, awakening something within him that made it impossible to keep his hands away.

He didn't waste any time in pulling you closer and slanting his lips onto yours, humming against them as he felt you reciprocate the intensity.

“You look like you missed me.” Tony grinned in that self-assured way you had grown to love so much.

“You’re just so sure, aren’t you?” You smirked, placing your hands against his chest as his lips descended along your jawline, down to your neck, nipping against your warm skin softly.

“Do I have a reason to believe otherwise?”

He wasn’t going to wait for an answer, he already knew it, because he had missed you just as much. Missed you to the point where he physically missed you, craved your touch and attention. And to realise he had never really been a tactile person before.

“You’re going to feed me or what?” You gave him a little push as you broke apart, not really wanting to part but you were famished.

Tony sprung into action then, taking your hand and leading you to the table where you nearly stopped in your tracks. No one had ever taken such efforts for you before, it made your heart flutter in the best of ways as he pulled out your chair and poured you some wine before heading to your kitchen.

Watching Tony in your kitchen was a different kind of turn-on in itself. The man moved with confidence and ease, and yet the whole thing seemed so domestic. He offered you a warm smile as brought out the first course, giving you a quick peck as he set it down.

“Wow. Really went all out, didn’t you? I feel so special.” You reached out to give his hand a little grateful squeeze.

“You are special, Y/N.”

He clinked his glass with yours, throwing a wink your way before joking about how he slaved in the kitchen so you’d better like the food. And the fact that it was indeed a delicious meal, made your whole evening. Tony asked you about your day, listened to you intently the whole time, sharing details of his own time back in the lab. Dinner polished off, the two of you found yourself cuddling on the sofa, the remainder of wine sitting on the table in front.

“Thank you, Tony. You continue to surprise me.”

“You’ve got to thank Pep for teaching me and not nearly blowing my head off.”

“I will make sure to thank her when we meet.”

You nodded with a laugh, letting out a squeal as Tony pulled you down in his lap after you’d placed you empty wine glass on the table next to you.

“I wouldn’t mind if you thanked me now, you know. I mean, I did share my previously non-existent talents with the woman I love so much—”

You silenced him with a kiss, pouring every bit of love and adoration in it. Teasing his bottom lip with your tongue, you didn’t need to wait long till he got the hint and welcomed the invasion, his tongue battling yours with sweet intensity that began gathering deep in your core.

Tony’s hands slid down your sides, resting firmly on your hips which he pulled closer to make sure you knew of the effect this had on him.

The heat of the moment only grew intense as he placed open mouthed kisses along your neck, finding the spot that made you weak in the knees easily. You were grateful to be held in his lap or you were sure you’d melt. Soft moans escaped your lips as your fingers carded through his hair, encouraging his ministrations.

Words weren’t necessary as you stood abruptly, only to grab his hand and take him to your bedroom. You resumed the moment you stepped inside, the growing heat now pooled between your legs as he walked you back until your legs hit the edge of your bed.

Ridding each other of clothes happened in a haze, and before you knew it, he was crawling between your legs, eyes skimming over your body with a look of awe mixed with lust.

“So beautiful.” Tony whispered, kissing just about every inch of your skin while you surrendered to the feeling of him.

You let out a gasp as his fingers trailed down between your legs to feel your arousal, glistening on his fingers before he dipped them between your moist folds, giving your walls a good stretch.

His erection poked against your inner thigh, his tip leaking pre-cum as he continued the sweet assault, garnering desperate, breathy moans from your lips.

“Tony…”

“Yeah, baby..I got you.” He reassured, curling his fingers upwards with expertise as he watched you quiver with anticipation.

He couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to be inside you, bury himself deep within your velvety warmth. The blush against your cheeks deepened as you watched him lick his fingers clean. He parted your legs further, kneading the soft flesh of your thighs.

“Tony, I’m not—I mean I don’t—”

You were trying to find the right words to tell him you weren’t exactly on any kind of pill and didn’t have condoms either.

“Give me a moment.” You watched with hooded eyes as Tony fished around his discarded jeans for a packet of condom.

"Someone came prepared huh?" You teased as he rolled the rubber onto his length.

"Weren't you wearing matching underwear?" Tony smirked, giving your inner thigh a little nip before crawling up your body once more.

His mouth found your pebbled nipple and closed around it, flicking it with his tongue while his hand knead the other one, sending your brain into overdrive as your head rolled back against the pillows.

You needed him. Bad. You couldn’t wait any longer, but he seemed to be wanting to take his time.

“Tony, please.” You hated how needy you sounded but somehow you didn’t care.

“Shh..so needy baby. Want me to make you feel good?” His voice was hot against your ear as he lined up against your entrance, chuckling darkly as you nodded fervently, your arms around his shoulders.

Without wasting another moment, you felt him push in, slow and steady, like he had all the time in the world. You hissed at the intrusion, relaxing your walls to accommodate him as he slipped in your tight heat.

“You feel so good, Y/N.” he breathed as he bottomed out, stilling his hips to let you both adjust.

Capturing your lips in a searing kiss, you felt Tony pull back and drive back in, setting a steady pace that felt overwhelming and yet not enough. The sounds that left your lips could make him cum right there and then but he resisted the urge, wanting to make you feel good, to watch you fall apart for him.

You cried out and dug your nails into his back when he pulled back almost all the way, only to slam back in, hitting your spot over and over until you felt yourself tipping over the edge.

“Tony, I’m gonna—” you breathed, unable to form coherent words as your orgasm took over.

“Come for me, sweetheart. Let me see you.”

Tony sighed as your walls spasmed around his cock, making him chase his own climax as you came with a shudder, holding onto him like he was your anchor that tethered you to reality. His own orgasm hit him soon as he felt his balls tighten, spilling his seed in the condom with a final grunt.

You held onto each other long after both your breaths normalised, the floaty feeling and post-orgasmic haze settling ever so slowly.

“I take it you really really liked the dinner I cooked for us.” Tony grinned, lightly tickling your sides after he’d settled beside you post a quick clean up.

“Oh yeah. Normally, I wouldn’t give five stars if my meal comes without dessert but, you know. I figured I’d go easy on you.” You had straddled his lap once more, leaning over to kiss along his stubbled jawline while his hands wandered along the expanse of your back.

“Dessert you say? I’ve got a few ideas for that..”

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Oh my loveliest nonny writer. I'm in great need of some protective Sam vibes, with a sick or hurt reader who hides it to not make a fuss, she's afraid the others think she's too weak to be in the team, cause she's new. But Sam noticing her being hurt or sick and goes all in full blown protective mode. And takes cares of her 🥹😪 and makes sure that she can trust him. 💔

"my loveliest nonny writer" 🥹🥹 i'm swear my heart is ready to explode. you guys are just all so sweet. i hope you enjoy and thank you so much 💛

Pairing - Sam Wilson x Reader Sam Wilson Masterlist | Anon's 1K Celebration

i'll take care of you.

Sam Wilson is the epitome of caretaker. He is Caretaker with a capital C. He notices something off with you the moment he walks into the conference room, far before anyone else does.

Your head is tipped into your hand, eyes slightly glassy, flushed pallor.

"You look like hell."

You barely move - another sign that you're not feeling good. Your eyes dart over to him as he stands over you, "Thanks."

"Go get some rest. I'll catch you up on anything you miss," Sam offers, concern painting his face.

You wave him off, or at least, you try to wave him off, "I'm fine. It's just allergies."

He presses a hand to your forehead, his lips pursing in distaste, "Allergies don't give you a fever. Go back to bed. I'll check on you when the meeting's over."

You softly grunt in objection, "No."

You know you're being stubborn, but the whole reason you dragged yourself out of bed this morning was to prove a point. You wanted to prove you could handle whatever this team threw at you - even if that was just a little virus.

The point was getting a little murky with the fever, but it was a point nonetheless. You shake your head, making yourself a little dizzy.

"Listen, you're not helping anyone by being here like this. Help us by helping yourself," Sam softly explains like he can see exactly what's going on without you even having to tell him. "And if anyone gives you shit for it, I'll kick their ass. Promise."

"Sam..." you grumble.

"Go or I'll carry you out of here."

Your glare is softened by how miserable you look. "You're really bossy, you know?"

It doesn't stop there. Not with Sam Wilson as your Caretaker.

He was right, even if you don't want to admit it. Because after he sent you away, the second your head hits the pillow, you're out like a light. You're not sure how long you've slept until you're suddenly awoken by Sam's presence.

"Knock, knock," Sam announces himself, entering your room armed with the sick survival kits of sick survival kits.

You sleepily groan, "Aren't you supposed to do that before you walk into a room? How did you even get in here?

"The door," Sam cheekily replies.

"It was locked."

"I may or may not have a key."

"We'll talk about this when I can see straight."

Sam crouches down to the edge of your bed. He presses a hand to your forehead again. "You're still burning up. You might have the flu."

You halfheartedly push him away. "The flu is contagious, Sam. Go away."

"Just let me take care of you."

"You don't have to."

"I want to." He tenderly strokes the hair out of your face. "This would be a lot more romantic if you weren't all sweaty."

"I hate you."

"And in spite of how mean you're being, I brought you a few things." He reaches for his bag, unpacking item by item. "Tissues. Cooling rags. Plenty of fluids, Gatorade, ginger ale, and some tea. But most importantly, my mom's world famous chicken soup. Perfect for when you're feeling sick."

"You take such good care of me," you hum, reaching out and gently stroking his cheek. "My favorite nurse."

"I think you're delirious," Sam chuckles. His heart fluttering at your sweet caress. He reaches over you, pulling your thick cover over you, tucking you in. He presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, "I'll always take care of you."

Anon's 1K Celebration Sam Wilson Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes@beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064

[theoutsiderscomfort]

Honestly guys prepare for angst because it’s time for

Johnny Cade Headcanons

Most people see Johnny as a scared little puppy but he is actually braver then people give him credit for

Sure he comes off as timid and anxious but when it comes to actually needing to do something scary, he doesn’t hesitate

He hands may be shaking afterwards but that doesn’t make him less brave

This guy has a massive appetite

If the Curtis brothers invite him over for dinner, they are making at least another chicken because Johnny can eat

He either has a big sweet tooth or doesn’t like sweets that much, I can’t decide which

He is friends with the cat that lives in the lot. He was there when it was a kitten and brought it food whenever he could

In exchange, the cat brought Johnny her kittens to show him

The cat still shows up in the lot looking for Johnny after the fire

I’m sorry I had to throw some angst into it

He is mixed. I can’t decide if he is half Mexican or something else along those lines

He can speak Spanish. He isn’t fully fluent but he knows enough to get through a basic conversation

The amount of times Two-Bit has asked him for swear words in Spanish, well Johnny lost count

He never tells Two-Bit any

Time for the neurodivergent headcanon before I throw y’all into the proper angst

I headcanon him as autistic

He hates crowds, not just because he has anxiety but because he finds them overwhelming

He however doesn’t mind when he goes to Buck’s with Dally because he knows Dally wouldn’t care if he wanted to leave 10 minutes after getting there

When Soda met him the first time, he went oh. He is like Ponyboy. Just immediately picked up on it.

His jean jacket is his comfort item. No matter the season, he is either wearing it or it’s nearby

Speaking of clothes, most of his clothes are hand me downs from the gang

Johnny doesn’t like taking the hand outs so the gang just leaves them at his house

They see him wearing the clothes a few days later

I also think he is dyslexic. It’s why he gets Ponyboy to read the book out loud at the church. Well that and also to beat boredom.

I don’t have anything to back this except my own thoughts

Angst time!

Johnny’s mom didn’t want a kid which is why she is the way she is to him and his dad

His dad blames him for making his mom an alcoholic, even though Johnny’s dad wanted a kid

Johnny’s parents didn’t care less if the hospital just put Johnny in the trash or something so Darry took over

Darry made sure that Johnny was near Dally

The gang all chipped in so Darry wouldn’t have to pay for all of it

I had so many more headcanons but I’m going to make myself cry if I finish the post.

Stay gold also kept playing while I was writing this so that didn’t help.

[ficmashup]

Captive Patient

Summary: You join TF141 after something happened on your last deployment. They take you in and while it takes some time, you find yourself warming up to them, and them to you. Perhaps especially to the Captain.

A/N: Heavy Price-involved chapter! Took me a bit longer to write because it's a bit longer and because I wanted to get it right. Sorry for the wait! But, hope you enjoy. :)

Warnings: Vague SA mentions, illness, some crass language, so much fluff.

Word Count: 4.6k

Feral Masterlist

Shopping with Price is different than shopping with Simon.

With Simon, it’s all quick jabs and taking the piss with each other down every aisle. We were even scolded by the manager once when I sent a pack of jerky shooting towards his head with deadly accuracy. A single look from Simon had them scurrying away and I couldn’t stop giggling for two straight minutes.

It’s just…easy with Price.

“Grab the gnocchi for me?” I ask, pointing up at the item while I crouch and reach back to gather chicken stock on the bottom shelf.

“The what?” Price looks directly at the package with furrowed brows.

A smile pulls on my lips as I place my things in the cart before walking over to him. “Gnocchi? Just there.” I tap the bottom of the shelf and he reaches up to get it for me as he looks it over.

“The hell is it?” He asks and I chuckle, gently taking it from his hands and putting it in the cart as he looks at me.

“Like…dumplings? Little, pillowy potato bites. Never had them before, I take it?” I ask with amusement in my voice as he shakes his head, following me as we walk down the aisle again.

“Can’t say that I have. What do you do with them?”

“Other than eat them?” I tease, smirking as he gives me a look.

“I mean, how do you cook them?” He corrects and keeps pushing the cart as I grab a few things, add them to the cart, then slide back into place with him beside me. He coughs again, covering his mouth with his elbow while I listen closely. It’s a wet cough. Maybe he has some congestion dripping down the back of his throat?

I focus back on the conversation. “Hm, well, this time I’m making a sort of twist on chicken pot pie. Same ingredients go in one big pot and it simmers for a few hours, then you’re done.” I explain, unconsciously making hand gestures for the pot, stirring, and so on. There’s still a slight furrow to Price’s brow when I look back at him.

“Why not just make chicken pot pie?”

“It’s supposed to be easier.”

“But aren’t you missing the crust?”

“The gnocchi take the place of the crust.”

“The crust is the best part.”

I shake my head amusedly at his insistence, and slide in front of the cart as I gather a few things. “Look, I’m making it today. Why don’t you come try it yourself?” My hands freeze as I hold a package of chicken, my eyes not even seeing the price as I replay what I just said. This is the problem with things being so easy. I’m usually a bit more careful, a bit more on my guard, but like this…I say things without considering them first. But Price responds before I can take the words back.

“Alright.” He agrees and my eyes snap to his. Those pretty eyes crinkle as he nods, leaning against the cart. “And I’ll make you a real chicken pot pie this week. We’ll compare.” His smirk grows as I realize that I’m staring and I quickly shove the chicken into the cart before pushing it forward a bit.

“You cook?” I ask, struggling to keep my mind from spinning and my body catching on fire.

“Occasionally. I don’t set toast on fire like Johnny.” He chuckles and I relax at the sound, the tension fading from my shoulders as he moves back to my side. “I’ve taught myself a few things over the years. Pot pie was my mother’s favorite, so I taught myself how to make it.” That catches my attention and I can’t think about anything at all when he speaks in that soft, gruff tone.

“You made it for her?” I draw the obvious conclusion and he shrugs a shoulder, half-grinning.

“Tried to. She nearly spat it out the first time I tried. She, ah, she wasn’t the type of woman to hold back her opinions.” He recalls fondly and his eyes look off for a moment as if reliving the moment. My lips press together as I try to hide my smile as he looks back at me with a slightly sheepish grin. “But I got better.”

“Mm, I’d hope so.” I tease and take in the warmth in his eyes like a reptile in the sun before we move on.

*     *     *

It’s easy enough to sneak a few things into my cart that he doesn’t notice. I don’t have to ask him to help me take my groceries up to my flat, and its child’s play to get him to sit on my couch for a few moments under the guise of waiting for a cup of tea. He sits and I note how tired he seems when he thinks I’m not looking. He leans against the back of the couch with a heavy sigh. His eyes shut while his hands slide over his thighs and I try not to get too distracted by him as he spreads his legs to get comfortable.

Quickly, I grab the secret things I got from the store and set each in front of him on my coffee table. His eyes open, looking at me while his brows furrow. “Drink one of these.” I point to the bottled water and a glass filled with a golden liquid. (Electrolytes, lemon-flavored.) “Then we’ll wait a few minutes until I can take your temperature. If it’s higher than I like, then I’m keeping you here until it goes down.” It’s very clear that nothing I’m saying is a suggestion.

Price blinks at me. “What?”

I set my hands on my hips, fingers drumming over my hipbones. “You’re sick. You’re coughing, you’re feverish, you’re taking more deep breaths than usual as if you’re having trouble getting enough air. It’s also obvious that you’re exhausted and I’d guess you’re not sleeping either because of congestion or hot and cold flashes at night.” I look pointedly to the drinks I set in front of him and he slowly leans forward to take the water bottle, but doesn’t drink it just yet.

His eyes narrow at me. “So you decided to back me into a corner with the promise of a home cooked meal?” Surprise pulls his brows up, but there’s amusement and something almost like pride in his eyes.

I cross my arms over my chest and stare him down. “Yes. Blame yourself. You told me that you’re insufferable when you’re sick, so I took things into my own hands by making a tactical move.”

He can’t keep himself from smiling now and my stance softens just a touch at the sound of his soft laugh. “Damn. I’ll remember that when considering undercover missions for the team.” He leans toward me with his elbows on his knees, head tilted up at me. My fingers flex against my arms as I see him in this position and I beg my mind to pull itself together. “But I’m fine. No need to go to any trouble.” A particularly bad cough chooses this moment to rattle his chest and I give him a pointed look once he’s finished hacking his lungs up. He returns the look with all the innocence in the world.

“Right. Let’s test that theory.” I pick up the thermometer and hold it out to him, raising a brow when he doesn’t take it. “There are many ways to take your temperature, Captain. Either let me take it willingly or I will shove this up your ass.” There isn’t a hint of hesitation in my voice and Price’s eyes widen a touch. His jaw flexes as he thinks it over before sighing and accepting the thermometer.

“Starting to feel bad for the boys if this is the treatment they got when they needed fixin’ up.” He grumbles as he slides the thermometer under his tongue with the end sticking out between his lips. It’s almost like a poor imitation of his cigars.

“I only treat my stubborn patients this way. If you’re good, then I’ll be sweet as sugar.” I glance at the clock, noting the time so I can be sure he keeps it in long enough for the reading to be accurate.

“Bet you would be.” The words are barely spoken under his breath, but my eyes snap to his immediately. Tension stretches taught as a rubber band between us and my body goes hot as he shifts slightly in place on the couch.

“What was that?” I whisper, frozen in place as I wait for his answer.

“Said I’ll try to be good then.” He responds gruffly and our eyes are locked on one another’s before the thermometer beeps, startling us both. A deep breath vanishes down my throat as I steady myself. I lean forward and slip the thermometer from between his lips, not meeting his eyes now as my hand skims his cheek. My thoughts narrow as I see the digital numbers flashing up at me.

“101. Low-grade fever. Still insisting you’re not sick?” I shoot Price a scolding look while he huffs. I pull away and clean the thermometer and put it away while gathering a few other things. It helps to get a little distance from Price anyway. “Alright.” I walk back to him and press pills into his hand. “Take these and drink as much as you can. Rest. I’ll work on the dinner I promised.”

Price looks utterly dissatisfied. “You want me to sit here while you cook? That’d make me a poor guest.”

I smile and hum in amusement. “But a good patient. You can come sit at the counter, but I’m not having you do much until that fever is down.”

He stands up, shaking his head. “I feel fine—"

“John.” I use my firm voice, holding his gaze without flinching as I place a hand on his chest. We hold that position for a moment, neither of us backing down while I think about the best way to handle him. My stance softens and I sigh softly, leaning into him a bit so my hand pushes against his chest just enough to drive my point home. “You trust me to take care of our team, you trust my advice on missions, now I’m asking you to trust me enough to let me take care of you. Let me.” My fingers tap lightly over his heart and mine beats faster at the vulnerability of asking him for something. Especially since I’m asking for his trust.

His jaw flexes a moment before he sighs, a smile pulling on his lips as his hand slides over mine on his chest. “Fine, sugar. You got me.” He agrees at last and I swallow at the sound of his soft, deep voice as he surrenders.

“Thank you. Now, where do you want to sit?” I raise a brow, seeing if he actually meant what he said.

He shakes his head slightly as if he can’t believe himself. “The counter. I’ll lend moral support.”

I grin, tapping his chest twice before reluctantly sliding my hand off him. “Good. That’s the most important kind.” He chuckles and grabs the drinks I bought him before settling on a stool at the counter while I walk around it to start cooking.

“Think I’d take air support over moral support.” He comments and I chuckle as I get everything out.

“You think so? You’d take a chopper over having the team at your back?” I challenge with a smirk as I get out two cutting boards and knives before organizing what needs to be done. He gives me a look, but can’t keep the smile off his face.

“Touche.” He allows and amusement flits through me. Conversation continues to be easy and John actually behaves well enough after I give him a job. (Cutting vegetables for the soup.) We eat together and it takes me a few minutes to settle as we both sit together and eat. It’s been a long time since I’ve done something so mundane and while I’ve eaten here with Simon, everything with John feels different.

His gaze follows me around the room and the weight is comfortable, soothing, and the very fact that I like it makes me nervous. The only thing that keeps me steady is the fact that he still needs care because he’s sick. It starts getting later and later, but the only thing that I’ve managed to help is his congestion. At least he can breathe a little easier.

I’m curled up in a ball on the opposite end of the couch as I debate making him stay, hating the idea of sending him home to his empty flat. Especially since I know he won’t call me if things get worse. My mouth opens to at least start the conversation, but before I can get a word out, a soft snore fills the room. I glance over at Price with wide eyes to find his head tilted back on the couch cushions, fast asleep. My lips press together to keep in a giggle as I relax back into place.

His position isn’t putting too much strain on any part of his body and if he’s fallen asleep so easily, he really must’ve been having trouble recently with the dripping down the back of his throat. I’ll let him sleep like this a while, then move him to the guest room a little later. I find myself watching him. He looks utterly relaxed slumped on my couch, hands still resting on his spread thighs as soft, rumbling snores leave his lips and each one makes me smile. What’s truly surprising is how comfortable I am having him here. The last time I had a man in here was…a very long time ago. A one-night stand to scratch an itch. Then, more recently, I’ve started having Simon here.

Simon was a bit easier because we have an understanding. Scars that neither of us have voiced, but that we both can see. Scars that are shared. It’s been a give and take of trust with us, always keeping things even, keeping each other steady until we relaxed into friendship. I’d let him into my apartment for barely five minutes the first time since he was the one who invited me to tea. A fair exchange. Then he let me into his place for longer, then I did the same, until we spent hours with each other and found we no longer needed to keep score.

With John…he’s already given me more than I could ever repay. He let me on the team, provided a place for me to fit in, a job to focus on, and provided me with friends within that job, people I could trust and depend on. That’s why it’s so easy for me to find myself off-balance with him. He’s given me so much so freely and only expects me to carry my own weight. Maybe that’s how normal people are supposed to interact and I’m just fucked up, but whatever.

Gently, I ease myself onto my feet and turn the tv off. “John.” My voice is soft as I move close, but don’t touch him just yet. “Hey, John. Come on, I’ve got to move you or else you’ll regret it in the morning.” My foot nudges his boot and he sighs heavily, shifting in place.

“Hmph.” He makes a disgruntled noise and I can’t help giggling. That’s what entices him to crack one eye open. “Am I dreamin’?” His voice is low and gruff and sends warmth seeping through my body.

“Are your dreams the only place you make women laugh?” I tease, leaning forward and taking his hand in mine along with wrapping my other around his bicep. “Come on, I’m getting you to bed.” Slowly, I heave him onto his feet and grunt as I duck under his arm, the heat of his body searing my side as we shuffle towards my guest room.

“Don’t often get to hear your laugh.” He mutters, his eyes only half open as I struggle to guide him around my furniture. “Such a damn pretty sound.” My body is boiling from heat and I’m not sure whether it’s because of embarrassment or pleasure.

“You should tell me more jokes if you want to hear me laugh.” It’s the only thing I can think to say and the warmth gathering in my stomach isn’t helped by the soft chuckle he gives me.

“Not much good at jokes, but I’ll keep that in mind, sugar.” He nods once and a tingle slides down my spine at the little nickname. I wonder if it’ll stick. “Wait.” We reach the doorway to my guestroom and Price reaches out, catching the doorframe with his hand while the arm I have a hold of tightens around me. He blinks a few times and I see him trying to wake up. I can’t imagine how deeply he must’ve been sleeping to have this much trouble. On missions, he’s up and ready to go in seconds, has to be.

“Don’t start thinking now.” I tease lightly and keep gently tugging him forward. Tired eyes meet mine as he lets me. “You’re in my flat, I’m putting you in my guest room because it’s late and I don’t trust you to take care of yourself.” I explain as much as is needed and finally sit him down on the bed. He allows it with a heavy sigh and rubs a hand over his face.

“Sorry for falling asleep on you.” He shakes his head at himself and I smile softly, wondering if his despondency is due to thinking of how his mother that he’d cooked for would think him a bad guest.

“I wanted you to sleep.” I step closer and press the back of my hand to his forehead. The only light in this room comes from the lamp still on in the living room, the warm light spilling across the bed like a shard of amber. It catches Price’s eyes just right and leaves them half a clear blue, and the other half shadowed like a stormy sea. I nearly forget what I’m doing as I stare into them. “You…you still have a fever. I’ll check in the morning, but for now, some more rest will do you good.” My other hand rests lightly on his shoulder and I don’t realize until after I move away that it wasn’t for any reason. I just wanted to touch him.

The thought makes me flustered as I swallow. “I think I have something you can wear, if you’d like.”

Price raises a brow at me. “Don’t think anything you have would fit me.” He presses the toe of his boots against the heel as he slips them off.

I give him a look, though I’m glad he’s not putting up a fight about staying here. “Wasn’t planning on giving you my clothes. I think there are some men’s clothes still shoved in the back of one of my drawers from an old boyfriend.” Mentally, I look through my drawers and try to pinpoint where I left them.

“Hm. No, thank you, sugar.” He shakes his head and I focus on him again. “Don’t usually sleep in much anyway.” I blink a few times before quickly nodding.

“Right. Make yourself comfortable and I’ll be right back.” My feet carry me to the bathroom and I flick on the light, grabbing a washcloth and dampening it with cold water. I wring it out in the sink and purposefully don’t look at myself in the mirror as I walk out. I don’t need to think about what I’m doing and I’m afraid if I meet my gaze, I’ll start reading into all the thoughts spinning around in my head.

Next, I grab two bottles of water and head back into the room, nearly tripping when I see Price’s shirt and pants slung neatly over the end of the bed. His socks are also tucked into his boots just under the cuff of his folded pants. My steps slow and I curse myself for being an idiot as I set the bottled waters on the bedside table. It’s not like I haven’t seen him shirtless before. I’ve seen every member of our team stripped down to their underwear when we had to cross a freezing river in the mountains. Not to mention I’ve treated their cuts and scrapes, Price least of all, but enough to see most of him.

But this is different. This isn’t in the field with the team or on base with half a dozen nurses around. We’re alone in my home with no one to watch or check in. It’s just us.

Price coughing brings my head swinging back towards him and I frown, sitting on the edge of the bed as the coughs ease. “Your throat raw from coughing?” I ask as he sighs, nodding as he leans his head back against the headboard. “I have something for that, hold on.” My hands gingerly lay the folded, cool cloth over his forehead before I get up and come back again with cough syrup.

“That looks like it’s going to taste great.” He grumbles as he peeks at it and I sit back on the bed beside him with my hip pressed against his thigh. He’s pulled the blankets up a little past his hips so we’re…relatively decent.

I smirk and pour the thick, molasses-type liquid into the cap before holding it out to him. “Better than whiskey.”

“Hmph, bite your tongue.” But he takes it anyway, grimacing as it slides down his throat and he hands me back the cap. I screw it back on and set the container next to his waters which he instantly chugs half of to try to get the sickly-sweet medicine taste out of his mouth.

“Alright, I’ll leave you alone for the night.” I say softly, meeting his gaze as I think of anything else I can do. “Come get me if things get worse. I mean it.” I shoot daggers at him with my eyes and he only smiles warmly, nodding in acceptance.

“Yes, ma’am.” He agrees and I’m about to get up when I feel the pads of his fingers brush mine on the bed. “Thank you for this.” His gaze holds mine and I freeze as his fingertips ever so lightly slide up and down each of my fingers. “Been a long time since I let someone take care of me. Longer still since someone wanted to.”

“It’s…my job.” I reply and the words taste like a lie.

His fingers pause for a moment, then he continues with a slow nod. “If you’d like to think that, then that’s fine. I won’t push and your standing with the team and with me won’t change. I’ve never lied to you and I hope you can trust me that much.” My brows furrow and I nod. I’ve trusted him with my life and with knowing more about me than nearly anyone else. I trust him not to lie to me. His eyes still haven’t wavered from mine and I’m comfortably caught in them, his words only half-sinking in for now. “But I’m not here because you’re my medic. And I don’t think you’re lettin’ me touch you like this because I’m your Captain.” The words are gentle, wrapped in the warmth of his rumbling voice, but the actual sentiment is blunt.

I blink a few times, keeping my body absolutely still. John is patient and his fingers don’t stop moving against mine. Thoughts whirl through my head, most tinged with panic, but Price is still here, still steady, still keeping his eyes on me as if ready to talk me down or let me run out of here. He’s not saying this like it’s a problem. He’s saying this like he’s trying to break the news to me, as if I don’t already know, as if I haven’t been fiendishly ignoring every little flutter of warmth his every word or gesture gives me.

I finally move, reaching up and pressing my fingers to my temple as I try to think. “It sounds like you have something you want to do about that.” I say softly, feeling like we’re encased in a little bubble here and speaking too loudly will break it.

He quirks a brow at me, surprise in his eyes. “We could start with a date.”

Now it’s my turn to be surprised. “A date.” I repeat, my fingers curling just a touch towards his as he keeps petting mine.

“Mmhmm.” He hums a confirmation with his head tilting just slightly as he watches my reaction. It’s clearly not what he thought it would be.

“You want to take me on a date?”

“Yes, sugar.”

“You realize what a bad fucking idea that is?” My voice is still hushed, my brows furrowed with confusion while Price keeps watching me with that steady gaze. “Forget the headache it would be on base, the gossip, the paperwork, possibly screwing with team dynamics, but you’ve read my file.” My voice shakes, but I don’t break away from John’s gaze. I’ve never hidden myself from him before and I’m not about to start now. “You realize what a nightmare it would be to try and date me? Do anything like that with me?” My words are a warning, bright red and flashing.

“I understand.” He says levelly and glances down to our hands for just a moment. “But I’m used to nightmares, sugar. I’d be glad if you’d let me tackle yours by your side.” His eyes lift to mine and if there was any doubt that he was earnest, the sincerity in his gaze immediately puts them at ease. I bite down hard on my bottom lip as I try to use the dull pain to keep the tears stinging the back of my eyes at bay. “But you don’t have to answer now. Sleep on it.”

“I have limits and boundaries that I don’t even know about yet. Things…wouldn’t be easy. Do you really want to navigate landmines in your personal life and your professional life?” I push anyway, needing his answer if I’m even going to consider this. I need him to know what he’s asking for.

“I understand.” He repeats, his fingers still moving soft and sweet against mine. “Yes, I do.” My next breath is a little shaky as I take in his words and the certainty in which he says them.

“You should sleep.” I say quietly, shifting closer as I flip the cool towel on his forehead and don’t resist the temptation to let my fingers linger. My hand rests against the side of his face, my thumb brushing over his cheek while his hot skin brands me. “Ask me again tomorrow.” His eyes scan my face as he nods, agreeing. Neither of us says anything else as he gets comfortable in bed and I slip out into my own room, curling up underneath my blankets.

For a while, I lay there while my mind swirls. The tears come next and my sobs are quick and quiet as I try to wrap my mind around what John is saying. He wants me. He wants to try. He’s willing to face my nightmares and stay. When I eventually fall asleep with tears smeared over my cheeks, there’s a small, hopeful smile on my face.

Taglist(hello lovelies, lmk if anyone else wants to be tagged!):

@under-the-dirt @jj-ara33 @sorchateas @cherry-blosom-tree

@thriving-n-jiving @jinxxangel13 @emsstuff1 @missmidnight-writes

[ceo-of-sloppy-women]

No grave can hold my body down; I'll crawl home to her

Chapter 14

CW: alcoholism, referenced childhood trauma/abuse, weed

Chapter 15

To call the atmosphere in the house the next morning strained would be an understatement. You wake to Sevika bent over the toilet, her guts throwing a violent revolt from the amount of alcohol she drank. Yet, that broiling frustration from being completely, wholeheartedly ignored, bubbles to the top, and you throw on clothes, slipping out of the house before she has a chance to know you’re awake. You just… need to walk. Somewhere. Anywhere. She’d rather put her body through Hell than have an adult conversation with you that would have taken two minutes and consisted of “I’m sorry I tried to sacrifice myself, I won’t do it again.” The other two minutes would be you hugging her and reassuring her that it was okay, just to not do it again. But no, now you’re storming to the gates of Zaun and out into the fields, huffy and glaring at everyone.

You barely register someone calling your name, glancing up to see Vi attempting to wrangle a field full of absent-minded calves and disgruntled cows by herself. No matter how many times she circles them, urging them forward, the cows are not having it.

“What do you need?” you call out, coming up to the side of the fence.

“You mind giving me a hand? I gotta get these cows out into the pasture, but ain’t no one around – most everyone’s out on patrol or still asleep right now!” Vi begs, giving it another fruitless attempt.

“Fine, alright – need me to get King?”

“Yeah -!” a calf starts moseying from her urging only to stop a few paces away from its mother, Vi sighs in defeat – “Yes, please!”

It takes you all of fifteen minutes to get King saddled up and out through the gates. In that time, Vi has managed to coax some of the cattle to the gate, but not nearly enough. You want to question why she’s doing this so early, but she leaps into instructing you, desperate to get the cows out to pasture. So, you clam up and follow her lead, engrossing yourself in the ride out and ensuring the calves wander away from the herd. It’s strangely calming and somewhat fulfilling to guide the cows along – so much so that it has you trailing after Vi, helping with various farm chores afterwards. Thankfully, she doesn’t make you scoop manure, claiming the stable hands need the practice. Instead, you help her milk the cows still in the barn, feed the pigs, check on the sheep and even gather eggs from the chickens.

By the time you’re done, the sun is high in the sky, and you are starving. Vi lets you go, and lacking a better alternative (you can’t eat diner food forever), you head back to Sevika’s place to find it empty. The retching from the bathroom has ceased, the house standing silently amongst the rows of various decaying buildings. Part of you had foolishly hoped she would be waiting for you, shoulders hunched forward and head hung low in shame, waiting to apologize.

Instead, you make yourself scrambled eggs and fried sausage. Your only company the wind as you eat on the porch.

That small, aching part of you resigns itself to its fate, nestling in your chest around your fragile heart. By the time Vander swings by the house, you’ve already packed the few meagre items you own into your backpack, slung over your shoulder as you wait on the porch. You’ve even returned all but the plaid shirt Sevika gave you, leaving it sitting on the bed formerly yours.

“Kid…” Vander says softly, shoulders fallen and an aching look spread across his face as plainly as butter.

“Just... show me the printing shop,” you request, standing up and repositioning the backpack. The last thing you need right now is for Vander to give you false hope again.

He wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his side as he leads you away from the house in silence. You swallow thickly, willing yourself not to cry – not to turn around and watch it disappear behind you. That home, formerly your home, which Sevika had welcomed you into with begrudgingly open arms, now but a faint inkling of fantasy in your sullen mind. Vander holds you steady, a strong grip on your shoulder, letting you lean on him as you clench your jaw in a desperate attempt not to cry.

With Vander guiding you down back alleys and side streets, the two of you avoid the larger population of Zaun. A few still see you pass by, but far less than if you had taken the front streets. Leading you to take the back door into the shop. It has a large, open space for a work area which has been populated with a few tool racks and various benches. There’s even a swivel chair in the corner with wheels. In the centre of the room stands Silco, leaning on his cane with a slender, knowing smile that aches of empathy.

“My dear, I had hoped this would have been a more… joyful occasion. My deepest apologies that our leading lady is an utter fool,” Silco sighs wearily, sweeping his arm to usher you into the shop.

“I was going to flush this place out with some tools and materials before you saw it, but Silco thought it would be better if you did that yourself,” Vander adds, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly.

“Thank you – both of you. This… this means a lot. Especially after nine years of probably the most chaotic, ill-prepared nomadic lifestyle,” you attempt to joke, but it comes out flat, dying on the floor between the three of you. “… so, uh, how about a tour? Please?”

Vander sighs softly, shaking his head with a poorly disguised smile. “I’ve got a patrol route to manage, so I’ll leave you in Silco’s capable hands –“ he leans in close to whisper: “He loves jokes about ducks.”

Before you can respond, Vander turns on his heel and is out the door. Leaving you alone with Silco, who’s watching you with an auspiciously raised eyebrow. You chuckle nervously and summon your best duck-joke.

“What time do ducks get up? The quack of dawn!”

Silco groans like you were just part of a long-winded and very much overdone joke between him and Vander.

“Honestly, you would think after nearly fifty years he would come up with better icebreakers,” Silco mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry,” you say, shuffling awkwardly.

“It’s fine; it’s not your fault, anyhow. He tells that to everyone – claims it’s because I’m ‘intimidating’ – I don’t mind, but there are only so many duck-related jokes in the world,” Silco explains, straightening out to gesture with his cane to the door leading out of the workshop. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way,” you agree, following patiently behind him.

The shop consists of two floors and a handful of rooms. The majority of the first floor is taken up by the workshop, with only a small storefront for your potential customer base. A staircase sits off to the side, leading up to the second floor into a common area with an open-concept kitchen and living room combo. There’s a bathroom off to the side, shower included (thank God) and a bedroom with enough space to sleep without feeling cramped. Yet, that sinking, bitter feeling of regret and loneliness curdled in your gut as you stood in the living room listening to Silco talk about how Violet donated an old bed from her place for you. You wish you still had Sevika’s to go home to, with a working stove and a fluffy cover on the toilet seat – a place that felt like home instead of a tiny apartment above the printing press, sterile and distant. Your ratty bag of the few scavenged items to your name droops next to the couch like your aching heart.

Silco lingers until the tea is cold – his housewarming gift – until he is wringing his hands in the middle of the room, doing his best to keep you company while his face betrays him. You put the cups in the sink and smile sadly as you wipe your hands on the kitchen towel.

“Silco, you can go; I’ll be alright,” you say, putting on a brave face. Pity taste so bitter in the wake of your harsh words that landed you here.

“I assure you, it is fine, I can stay a little while longer,” he insists, moving to take a seat on the couch.

“She’s not coming. We both know that. Whatever Vander is trying to say to her is falling on deaf ears.” You sit on the kitchen counter, hands folded in your lap.

“How did you –“

“Vander isn’t in charge of patrols; that’s Grayson’s job. You’ve got a whole city to run; it’s unlikely you took time out of your day just to give me the extended tour of a tiny shop unless the two of you were trying to fix it. You can’t fix it. For all her virtues, Sevika is stubborn – if she doesn’t want to talk to me, she won’t. Ever again. It burns like Hell, but I’ve made peace with it. I had to find out why she was alone all this time one way or another. I just wish I hadn’t fucked it all up so soon…”

“This is in no way your fault,” Silco argues, abandoning the couch to stand in front of you. He takes your hands, staring you in the eyes with a hardened gaze. So self-assured, so insistent. “You are not to blame for Sevika’s problems. Especially not this one. Caring for someone is never an act of guilt, regardless of the outcome. Caring for someone takes compassion, bravery and stubbornness – all traits you have exemplified brilliantly, my dear. Unfortunately, Sevika has been this way for a long, long time.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know this isn’t my story to tell you, but God knows she won’t, and I can’t leave you fumbling around in the dark any longer. We knew Sevika long before Zaun – before all of this. Yes, she was a bouncer at our bar, but before then, she was our sister. Though not biologically, the three of us grew up together in a group home; four kids the system failed – Violet and Jinx’s mother was still alive back then. She rarely spoke of her childhood; her father was a bastard who couldn’t keep his hands to himself – her mother took the brunt of it until she… couldn’t anymore. When he turned to her, the state stepped in, but the damage was already done. She never got the therapy she needed; barely got the medication before the world ended. She has tried for years to dig herself out of that hole. Unfortunately, some part of her is still in that house, repeating what her father said to her… remembering what he did. Despite the best efforts of everyone around her, she still doesn’t believe she’s worthy of any of it – she’s fought tooth and nail to crawl out of that hole so hard she keeps burying herself back down within its depths. Don’t give up on her; just give her time.”

“Thank you for telling me,” you whisper quietly, staring at the floor in an effort to process this information without crying. “I – it…”

“It doesn’t justify what she’s done; I know. I’ll leave you be, you know where to find me when you have questions. Make sure to eat dinner tonight.”

“I will,” you croak around the tears welling up in your eyes.

Silco takes his leave, letting you process your emotions in privacy. You desperately want to scrape all of your words back into your mouth – to go about it all again with a gentler approach. If you had known – but you hadn’t. And that isn’t your fault. You can only work with what you’re given and continue forward when you’re given more. You’ll get some things wrong and some things right, yet at the end of the day, you’re only human; you can only do so much. You cannot be expected to know everything. Only what you know in the moment.

Somehow, despite Silco’s intentions, the knowledge only makes it hurt more – like pouring disinfectant on a gaping wound. The sting reverberates through your chest as you puttering around the shop, putting away various tools and reorganizing everything until you know exactly where everything is (and it appears like chaos to an outside perspective). By the time you had finished, the sun was starting to set on the horizon – between Silco’s tour and your distraction, you’d rapidly burned through daylight. A small voice inside itches to make dinner, to emulate the comforting atmosphere of Sevika’s house – so you set out to get groceries. Maybe a part of you is also hoping you’ll run into Sevika on the way, even if it only earns you the barest acknowledgement.

You have no such luck. The grocery store is swimming with people getting a jump on weekly deals and bargains – a thick haze of bodies that you swim through to grab what little you need to make yourself dinner. You’ll do a proper trip tomorrow when you have more time, tonight you’re starving. Nothing too fancy; just fresh pasta, canned tomato sauce, ground beef and squash. You find a cheese grater down one of the aisles and several knives (thank you, Jayce), as well as a wooden cutting board and a pan. The pasta came pre-cooked, so all you had to do was toss it in last.

Returning to the printing shop, you heat up the pan, browning the beef, grating squash while it cooked, then adding the sauce, and finally stirring in the grated squash. The noodles were a last-minute addition, so they didn’t get too soft. In the end, you wind up with leftovers, which you wrap up and place in the fridge – thankfully, it has power. At least you’ll have something to eat tomorrow morning as you’d forgotten to grab breakfast items in the chaotic sea of people. The apartment actually smells good – not quite homey with the lingering dust, yet, there’s an odd comfort that comes with being inside a refurbished building. You can’t place your finger on it until you’re sitting on the sofa, fingering through an old book while you eat. It hits you suddenly; the apartment smells like Sevika’s home. The earthy, wooden scent of repainted wood and old pipes, mixed with lingering disinfectant to clear away any mold or mildew. Your heart sinks in your chest as you pull your feet up on the couch, curling around your plate with a heavy sigh.

If only you hadn’t opened your mouth – even if Silco had assured you it wasn’t your fault, even if Sevika was the one to blame for reacting this way… you and your big heart cost you the closest friend you’ve had in years.

You leave the plate in the sink – you’ll wash it tomorrow. Curling up on the couch, you lose yourself in the book you were reading, only realizing hours into it that this was one of the old romance novels you pulled out of the abandoned library. Desperately, you wish you were still there – surrounded by the smell of old, weathered books, with the leaking ceiling and the sunlight filtering in through green leaves. The couch springs digging into your hip insist that you’re exactly where you’ve always been: alone. Even as the leading lady finally confronts her suitor for abandoning her midway through the courting season, her Victorian dress pressed against a poorly tailored suit, you find no joy in the suitor’s confession that he had been a she this entire time and her sudden abandonment was so the leading lady wouldn’t figure out. The only thing that sparks in your chest as the two kiss passionately against the side of the house is sorrow and desperation. Your heart aches, cracking and crumpling in your chest, crying out into the universe for Sevika’s tender embrace. Still, you continue to flip the pages; this is all you get now. Surrounded on all sides by the comforting embrace of civilization, yet impossibly alone.

The ladies slip from the side of the house into a carriage, telling the driver to keep driving until told otherwise. The carriage rocks with their intertwined bodies, virtues dashed across the rocks, pulling pleasure out of the other in exchange for air. At least the book is good (how this was in a library, you have no idea). Slowly, the pages grow easier to flip as you fully access the story.

Maybe a little too fully. So engrossed by the book, you nearly miss the knocking sound from the door downstairs. It comes as a weak tapping ringing through the shop like a gunshot. You toss the book down on the table, scrambling to the stairs (you’ve read it countless times, you know how it ends). Whoever’s bothering you this late at night must have a good reason – neighbours don’t tend to ask for a cup of sugar when they’re supposed to be asleep.

Unfortunately, the shop door doesn’t have a peephole and all the curtains were drawn while Silco was giving you the tour earlier. You left them shut, deciding to open them once the shop itself was open. Thus, you have little time to process who’s standing at the door until you pull it open to reveal Sevika, fist raised mid-knock, swaying slightly on her feet, shirt untucked, face red and puffy as if she’d been crying. Sniffling as if she’d definitely been crying. Your barbed wire heart cracks in your chest, straining against the metal spikes. It screams at you to wrap her in your arms – to bring her inside and upstairs, like a wounded dog that’s limped home after losing a fight to a wolf. Desperate eats away at you in that empty, motionless void where neither of you moves to speak.

The smell of alcohol hits you like a truck, forcing you to acknowledge reality.

“You’re drunk,” you spit like you’ll develop intoxication by proxy merely stating it.

“I –“ she starts to say, swaying slightly.

“Go home. You’re drunk,” you repeat. This isn’t how you wanted this; the bitter taste of absolution was better than heart-clogged, alcohol-induced guilt.

“No, let me in, it’s fucking cold,” she argues, trying to body her way inside.

Easily, she knocks you aside, forcing entry until she’s standing in your shop, and you’re still standing at the door, dumbfounded. You’re no match for her, even when she’s drunk. That doesn’t mean she should use her strength against you like this. You wanted her to talk to you… just, not like this.

She leans against the counter to stop herself from swaying.

Not like this.

“Sevika, why are you here?” you fold your arms across your chest, holding your elbows.

“’Cause you are,” she grunts, gripping the countertop.

“What do you care, you haven’t talked to me for two days,” you spit back in her face, anger boiling up to the back of your throat (or maybe that’s stomach acid, hard to tell). “I can take a hint, Sevika. I’m not stupid.”

“Hint? What the fuck you talking about?” she slurs, squinting at you.

“Don’t be an ass.” You step back, pulling up your shoulders defensively. “You’re drunk; I don’t need this right now. Get out. Before one of us says something they don’t mean… or do. I don’t even know at this point.”

She steps toward you, raising her hand as if to cup your cheek. “Sweetheart, what are you –“

Your hand snaps up, grabbing her wrist as you stare her down with the nastiest glare you can muster. “How dare you! For two days, you didn’t talk to me – you didn’t even acknowledge my presence, and I took it on the chin. I waited. I gave you your goddamned space despite the fact that it was eating me alive, and this is what I get in return?! You, drunk out of your mind, stumbling about and pretending like you haven’t just been a complete and utter jackass to me. You want me out of your life, fine, I get it, you don’t have to tell me twice. But, I won’t let you torture me; you do not get the pleasure of sticking the knife in any deeper than it already is, let alone twisting it. I’m sorry I fucking cared about you. Is that what you want me to say? Is that what you’re after: an apology? I’m no longer the burden you dragged back who won’t stop following you around like an annoying little dog, begging for scraps when you clearly don’t –“

Your suddenly cut off as she pulls you against her chest, wrapping her arms around you before you can push her off you. She holds you with trembling tenderness, one hand on the back of your head and the other wrapped around your shoulders, fingers digging into your side. The waves of emotions continue to rock you until you stop struggling, melting away into gasping sobs as you pull her closer, hands burying under her plaid shirt to grip the t-shirt underneath. She holds you steady, shaking subtly in your hold, thumb stroking the back of your head.

“I never meant to – this wasn’t – fuck, why is this so damned hard? I ain’t good at this shit, why do you gotta make me do all of this? Nine damn years and I haven’t had to word vomit the shit people call emotions to anyone, then you come along and dig up everything I thought was long dead and buried… I didn’t want you out of the house, I just… I’m not used to people caring about me. Then you did; over and over again, you kept caring, and each time I got worse I thought ‘this is it, this is when she stops. This her breaking point.’ But it never was. No matter how badly I fucked up, you stayed right by my side, and when you didn’t, I didn’t even notice. When I realized you actually left me, I couldn’t take it; I can’t lose you. You’re the only good thing that has ever happened to me in this god-forsaken hellscape the world has been rendered into. Come home, please. I can’t lose you… not after everything.” Her voice wavers as a sob claws its way out of her throat. She grips you tighter as you fist her shirt, nails scraping against her back through the fabric.

“Only if you promise not to do this to me again. You can’t just shut down on me, Sev’… it really did make me think you didn’t want me around, and it’s lowkey a tactic abusers use. It’s not healthy – for either of us.” You don’t want to say it, but you have to. While you know she’s not doing it intentionally, that doesn’t make it any less worse.

“Okay, I won’t – I swear,” she agrees quickly, tightening her grip as if you’re about to pull away from her. Too desperate to not lose you again. “And if I do by accident, let me know. Cuff me upside the head or some shit.”

“I’m not going to hit you.”

There’s a pause, where you’re swallowed by the sound of her shaky inhale before she says: “You know what I meant; just knock me out of it.”

“I’ll tell you you’re being an ass,” you counter, not wanting to press her on this issue. Neither of you has the emotional strength for that conversation right now.

“Yeah, do that,” she grunts, squeezing you one final time before pulling back. She looks like absolute shit – face covered in tears and snot, eyes red and puffy, trying to wipe it all away on her sleeve. “You, uh, coming? Home – I mean.”

“Yes,” you manage to squeak out because it’s easier than spilling your guts with what you actually want to say – how long you’ve waited for her to ask you that, a further squabbling sobbing fest over her foolish Jackassery – it’s too complicated for this late at night. “Just let me get my bag.”

She nods, waiting for you in the shop as you grab your bag from upstairs. You’ll be back tomorrow to check on the shop, so you leave the leftovers in the fridge and head back downstairs, the book you were reading tucked under your arm. Together, the two of you walk quietly back home, sharing a joint Sevika dug out of her pocket. The smoke curls around you like an old friend as she inches closer to you, seeping into your personal space until you were walking side by side. You wrap your hand around her waist, heart hammering at her contented hum, as she blows a smoke ring into the air. You watch her lips form together, wishing they were pressed against yours. Instead, all you get is the joint and the faint taste of her saliva.

By the time you make it back to the house, the joint’s finished, and she steals the last few puffs of the roach before putting it out on the ashtray next to the front door. Leaving your shoes and bag at the door, you follow her upstairs, letting her take you by the hand and lead you up to her room. Your heart is hammering as she gives you an old shirt of hers, muttering something about your clothes still needing a wash. You try not to steal a sneak peek at her while you’re changing, yet your eyes catch on her back, and for the first time in a long time, you realize you never actually saw her back tattoo. With her back to you as she digs through her dresser for a night shirt of her own, you see the tattoo stretched out in its full glory across her muscled shoulder blades. A wolf lays at the bottom of her shoulder blades, pierced through with ten swords like the tarot card. Each sword seems to be deliberately placed, pierced through vital organs or limbs – one through the head, heart, each limb and so on. Beneath the wolf is the Roman numeral X, confirming its relation to tarot. From what you know of tarot, the Ten Of Swords represents a tattered life in ruin and strife, loneliness, destruction and emptiness.

You can’t help the soft exclamation of “oh” from escaping your lips. She spins around quickly, flushed in embarrassment, scrambling to get the first shirt she grabbed over her head. Even the hilarious slogan “Do MILFs Not Drugs” stretched across the front doesn’t diffuse the sinking atmosphere.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to snoop, but my eyes caught on it and I –“

“It’s fine,” she grunts, shuffling in place. “It’s just… personal.”

“And this isn’t?” you counter, gesturing with an aborted jerk to the room around you.

She silently stares at the bed for a long moment before moving toward it, trying to avoid the conversation. Pulling back the covers, she settles underneath them, sitting up slightly to look at you.

“I really am sorry,” you insist, not sure if you’re still allowed to follow after her.

“Just get over here,” she huffs with a sigh, patting the bed next to her. “Before I change my mind and make you sleep downstairs.”

Even though you know she doesn’t mean it, you scramble over to her. She chuckles softly, wrapping the covers around the both of you before pulling you close to her chest. Her hand wraps around your sternum, thumb resting between your breasts, fingers splayed against your ribs. The room falls silent around you, her gruff breaths evening out as you melt into the warmth of her body heat. You’re almost certain she’s fallen asleep, and this is the extent of any conversation you’ll ever have until her voice rumbles through the room.

“I got it a long time ago when I was in a dark place… before I worked for Silco and Vander. I never had a good go at life – this is the best it has ever been. Getting it felt like taking back control of my body after all the shit the world did to me. Back then, I thought it was cool; I’d wear backless shirts and let all the girls touch it like it made me deep and mysterious somehow. Just made me feel emptier in the morning when they’d leave. When Violet and Jinx’s mother died, I started covering it up; they didn’t need shit like that in their lives, especially not when the three of us were trying so damned hard to bring them up with happy childhoods. I was going to get it covered up – had the appointment booked and everything – but then the world ended… it’s the last surviving relic of the old world I’ve got left.”

“Why keep it hidden then?” you whisper into the dead of night.

“… didn’t want you to leave, too,” she admits quietly, curling closer to you. Her legs come up, the tops of her thighs pressing against the back of yours.

You rest your hand on top of hers, meshing your fingers together. “I’m not going to leave, not again. Silco, he, erm – he told me a little bit about your childhood –“ she stiffens against your back, hand tensing under yours – “And I’m still here. I came back, didn’t I? I don’t give a fuck about who you used to be; I only care about who you are now. I’m not going to treat you like a delicate vase or a fuckboy trying to use her tattoo to get laid. That’s not who you are; you’re more than the sum of your parts; you’re Sevika. You’re human, just like the rest of us. I’m not even sure I’m making any sense here…”

“You are – to me, at least,” she mumbles against the back of your neck, relaxing again. With a soft exhale, she whispers “thank you” into your shoulder so quietly you nearly miss it.

“Goodnight, Sev’,” you murmur, squeezing her hand as you snuggle closer to her.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” she replies, and your heart skips a beat.

If only she meant it.

///

Disclaimer: please do not emulate Silco in this fic. He has his own moral standing and justification for disclosing Sevika's trauma without her consent, and that's fine. However, you are not Silco; you are also not a narrative foil. People's life experiences are theirs to share when they are comfortable. Obviously I cannot stop you but I can insist that this is, in fact, bad form.

Good? Good.

[lillaydee]

The Greener Grass Across the Street

Joel Miller / Reader

The grass is always greener on the other side.

WARNINGS:

Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence (Not Joel), Domestic Life, Domestic Bliss, Husband Joel, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us)

Divider by @saradika

Enjoy my sudden Brain Worm

___

You waited until the truck pulled to a complete stop before getting out, Joel going out and getting the groceries in the back. You unlocked the front door, opening it wide enough for Joel to squeeze in with the six or so bags of groceries that he had always insisted he could manage without a second trip. You went back out to the yard, getting the garden hose and spraying the small herb garden you had, along with the three rose bushes Joel had helped you plant. One day, you thought, one day you will have a garden full of sweet, scented flowers, and maybe, just maybe you wouldn’t feel so inferior living so close to the couple across the street.

**********

The house had been an exact copy of yours at one point, but days after they purchased it slews of contractors and landscape architects camped over, and before long, the house looked like something out of a home and living magazine. The garden was to die for. The most beautiful and expensive flowers you could only dream of decorating every corner, artfully interspersed with imported trees and filler plants and cobbles and coloured pebbles and river stones.

The lady of the house, Lydia, you think her name was, drove up the street and into her driveway in her new imported car. They had been living across the street for maybe two years, and she had changed cars at least twice. You had spoken to her a few times. She was a sweet, quiet lady. A career woman, and the one time you went inside her house to send her a welcome to the neighbourhood pie you had baked she opened the door looking like a Stepford wife, her perfect hair and clothing making you feel like a bag lady. Her house was immaculately furnished, expensive everything, obviously imported. She served you a cup of imported tea in a fine bone China tea set so delicate you were seriously worried your clumsy fingers were going to break them. And then you might actually have to cut off your fingers to replace them.

Her husband, Collin, was an accountant, you believed. He treated his wife like a princess. Heck, you wondered if she ever had to lift a finger if she didn’t feel like it. Any time you spoke to her when she was gardening, her husband would come out and wrap his arms around her body, joining in the conversation, telling her over and over she didn’t need to do the gardening, he could hire someone to do it for her, he didn’t want her hands getting all dirty. She’s so stubborn, he would tell you. He wanted to get her a housekeeper and a gardener to help with the household duties, but she wouldn’t hear it, even insisting on working still even though he begged her to quit. He wanted to spoil her, but she wouldn’t let him, he had told you, giving her smooches all over her cheek.

Seriously she made you feel like a loser. A full time job, an immaculate house, a beautiful garden, and still she managed to look like a porcelain doll at all times, all primped and made up for her beloved husband, who, you had noticed, could never keep his hands off her. You went over to ask for a sprig of Rosemary once, and there was a rack of lamb on the perfectly set table, complete with shiny silver and crystal tableware. You went home to your sad roast chicken feeling as if you’d failed Joel as a wife.

**********

You loved your husband, you really did. He was a good husband, by any measure. He provided for you, leaving the house before the crack of dawn in his old truck to slave away doing heavy labour all day, and came home late in the evening with whatever items you asked him to get for you at the store on his way home. You met him when you were working as a receptionist for a contractor he had laboured for, fell head over heels in love, and married him within a year of meeting. You started trying for a baby straightaway, and when you expressed your wish to be a stay at home mom, he immediately agreed. You thought your dreams of a perfect life was starting to come true.

Two years passed, and you were still out of luck with a baby, and Joel being the sole breadwinner, money was tight. You wanted to go back to work, but he coaxed you into staying at home a little while longer. Sometimes it just takes a while for couples to conceive. So you stayed at home.

The problem then was you began to feel bad for him. He was working himself to the bones to provide for you and your future children. And you kept feeling as if you were not doing enough for him. You knew money was tight, so you kept quiet about wanting certain things around the house. A kitchen island, planters in the garden, an armoire for the bedroom. You would love to go dancing every now and again, go out for dinner every once in a while, maybe a vacation or two. But all that cost money, and the two of you simply couldn’t afford it. So you kept quiet.

All you wanted was for Joel to come home to a perfect wife for the perfect husband that he was, but you felt as if you were lacking.  The house was never clean enough, the garden never beautiful enough, the food never delicious enough. You had to plan your mediocre meals down to a tee to make sure your bills could be paid, money could be saved for rainy days, so no fancy China or silvers and crystals for your household. Not even a rack of lamb.

He gave you some money every week to get something for yourself if you so wished, but you never did. You saved it all up so you could get him something nice. You bought him a nice pair of boots for Christmas, and he chastised you for spending so much money on him. He didn’t have much, but he gave you everything he could. He didn’t want anything for himself. He just wanted you to be happy.

Still, you felt like you were not good enough for him.

**********

It had started as you feeling like you were not good enough for your husband. Collin and Lydia’s arrival made that feeling stronger. You wanted to be like Lydia. The perfect woman. One who was independent, a career woman who could still do it all, be the perfect wife for her husband.

But slowly, it turned into you wanting to have a Collin for a husband.

You couldn’t help but compare the man to Joel.

Collin was a husband who was open to showing affection in public, hands never off his beautiful wife, never shy about showing the world how much he was infatuated with her. Joel was a stoic man to the world, but was insatiable for you behind closed doors, and occasionally, the comfort of his truck. You could only imagine what Collin would be like in the privacy of their bedroom.

Collin was a husband who could shower his wife with lavish vacations and fine dining. Joel took you to the beach and tacos and burgers on the weekends.

Collin was a husband who would take his wife dancing every now and again. Joel slow-danced to Sinatra with you in the comfort of your living room.

Collin came home from work with beautiful flowers for his wife. Joel came home with an empty lunchbox and bread and eggs and milk from the store.

Collin came home on Valentine’s Day with expensive jewellery for his wife. Joel came home on Valentine’s Day with home made carvings and a card he made himself.

You hated that you were beginning to feel this way. You hated that you were seeing your husband in such a negative light. The man who had provided for you as best as he could. You envied Lydia for having it all. How you wished you had her life.

And then one day, you found out you were pregnant. Joel held you tight, kissed you all over, happy tears in his eyes. He made love to you again and again that night, promising you that he would work hard to give you and the baby a better life, he will give you everything you had ever wanted. Because you had given him everything he had ever wanted. A family.

Just like that, your envy for the life in the house across the street disappeared. You were happy. You had everything you needed right here, you thought. The next day, while he was at work, you went outside to the herb garden to get some rosemary from the planter box Joel had built for you, went into the kitchen to prepare your husband’s favourite roast chicken dinner on the kitchen island he had crafted for you. You got the laundry out of the machine, folding and putting them away in the armoire he spent months constructing for you, before going out to your now much fuller garden to cut some roses for the dining table from the bush he had planted for you. You waved at Lydia across the street, looking perfect as usual, and went back inside to wait for your husband to come home.

**********

Across the street that night, Lydia sat in her perfect bathroom, wiping the make up away from her face, all the mask she had on for the world taken off, the black and blue reality of her life reflecting in the mirror. She looked at the expensive bouquet Collin had gotten her, having put them on the marble bathroom counter for the lack of space from the many, many bouquets he had gotten her this week alone, extended her arm to brush the delicate petals before wincing and hissing in pain, her shoulder still hurting from the incident earlier.

She was drawing the curtains for the night when she saw you and Joel dancing in your living room across the street, looking so happy and in love she was frozen on the spot, her heart aching with yearning. Collin had yanked her away from the window so hard her shoulder creaked and snapped, accusing her of lusting after that low class labourer Miller. He immediately apologized when he saw the tears in her eyes, telling her he didn’t mean it, he just loved her so much he went crazy at the thought that she was looking at other men.

Lydia finished wiping her face but waited in the bathroom. She knew that she would be receiving another beautiful bouquet of flowers tomorrow, perhaps even jewellery. This one on the bathroom counter was from the time when she didn’t iron his shirt right two days ago. It was her fault, really, she was far too sleepy when she was ironing, having spent the night before scrubbing the bathroom clean with a toothbrush. Collin hated a dirty bathroom. He had, after all, spent so much money on it.

She waited in the bathroom still, even after she heard Collin’s snores. She needed to sleep soon, she had a long drive the next day. The money she had set aside was enough now. One more sleep and she would be a free woman. But until then, she needed to live this life she did not sign up for and keep up the act.

She couldn’t help but dream for a life like yours. A life filled with simplicity and love. Pure, honest, true love, one that needed no pretence, no hiding from the world. It was exhausting to live the perfect life, one that was only so to the public, but filled with tears behind closed doors.

Lydia finally got up, wincing a little from Collin’s over enthusiastic show of love after that incident earlier, switched the lights to the bathroom off and slipped into their expensive, plush marital bed as quietly as she could, and tried to get some sleep.

Tomorrow would be a fresh start.

As she drifted away, she couldn’t help but pray that her new life would be one like yours.

You, the nice lady with the perfect life across the street.

[galaxysupreme17]

Takeout and Truths

Y/n = your name

AgathaRIo x daughter!reader

The morning was a swirl of activity as Agatha bustled around, her hands fluttering from one packed item to another, checking and rechecking her bag. Y/n watched her from the doorway, trying to hold back a smile. Despite being one of the most powerful witches Y/n knew, Agatha looked downright flustered.

"Are you sure you packed enough?" Y/n teased, her eyes twinkling as she saw her mother fussing over a handful of spellbooks and a carefully wrapped potion bottle.

Agatha shot her a look, half-amused and half-apprehensive. "I know it seems like I'm going overboard, but Wanda said this retreat requires full focus. I just want to be prepared for anything." She paused, her face softening as she glanced at Y/n and then Rio, who was lounging in the corner with an amused grin.

Y/n approached, leaning in to hug Agatha. "We'll be fine, Mama. It's just the weekend."

"Yes," Rio said, sauntering over and touching Agatha's shoulders. We've got this covered. There's no need to worry yourself into a frenzy. Besides..."..." She tilted her head, giving Agatha a reassuring smile. "You deserve some time away."

Agatha's expression softened, but she still sighed, running her fingers along the edges of her bag. "I know, I know... but it's just the first time I'll be away from both of you like this in a long time." She gave Y/n a gentle look. "And I'll miss you, kiddo."

Y/n rolled her eyes but grinned. "Three days is nothing, and Mom and I have all sorts of plans. Right, Mom?"

Rio smirked, nodding. "Oh, absolutely. There's takeout, movie marathons, and maybe—if Y/n's up for it—a bit of light spell practice."

Agatha's eyes narrowed playfully at Rio, clearly catching the hidden mischief in her voice. "I better not come back to find half the kitchen charmed to life," she warned, only half-joking.

"Relax," Rio chuckled, wrapping her arms around Agatha's waist and gently kissing her cheek. "We'll behave. Probably."

This earned a laugh from Agatha, who leaned into Rio's embrace, momentarily abandoning her bag to savor the touch. With one final hug for Y/n and a lingering kiss from Rio, Agatha finally stepped back, taking a deep breath to steel herself.

"I love you both," she said, a smile spreading across her face as she looked at them.

"Love you too," Y/n said softly, giving her a little wave.

"Now go before you change your mind," Rio added, gently nudging Agatha toward the door. Agatha took a deep breath, then smiled, and with a final glance over her shoulder, she disappeared down the path, leaving Y/n and Rio alone in the house for the first time in what felt like forever.

Y/n then retreated to her room for a few hours to work on homework while Rio cleaned the house.

The house felt different without Agatha around. Though it was still filled with its usual warmth, an unmistakable stillness was in the air. It wasn't often that Y/n and Rio got time together, just the two of them, and while Y/n missed her mother's presence, she also welcomed this rare opportunity to connect with Rio on a deeper level.

As the sun set, painting the living room in a soft orange glow, Rio peeked around the corner from the kitchen, where she'd been rummaging through the fridge with a half-hearted look of uncertainty.

"Alright," Rio declared, leaning in the doorway. "First night of it being just us. How about we do something a little different for dinner? You call the shots tonight, kiddo."

Y/n looked up from the book she'd been reading, eyes twinkling with excitement. "Are you sure about that? No limits?"

"None at all," Rio replied, folding her arms with a smirk. "Whatever you want."

"Chinese takeout, then!" Y/n said after only a moment's thought. "I've been craving it all week."

Rio grinned, grabbing her phone and plopping down next to Y/n on the couch as she scrolled through the menu. "Alright, let's go all out: dumplings, sweet and sour chicken, fried rice... the works."

Y/n laughed, watching Rio's expression as she made each selection. Seeing her mother like this was nice, so relaxed and willing to indulge her. Within the hour, they were back on the couch, surrounded by a spread of takeout containers, chopsticks in hand, laughing and chatting as they dug into their meal.

Halfway through her spring roll, Y/n glanced at Rio, mischief sparking in her gaze. "Hey, how about a game?"

Rio raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh, we're playing games now? What did you have in mind?"

"20 Questions," Y/n replied, grinning. "But you go first."

"Oh, I'm going all in," Rio said, setting her chopsticks down and leaning forward, a playful gleam in her eye. "Let's start easy... What's something you never told Agatha?"

Y/n blushed, thinking. "Probably that I used a little magic once to...change my grade on a pop quiz. I know, I know," she said, throwing her hands up when Rio gave her a knowing look, "but it was just once! And I was really tired!"

Rio chuckled, shaking her head. "Noted. But fair warning, if she ever finds out, I'll have to pretend I didn't hear this."

They laughed, enjoying the feeling of shared secrets, of bonding over small, silly things. As they finished their dumplings, Y/n leaned back into the couch cushions, feeling the comfortable weight of contentment settle over her.

"Okay, my turn," she said, looking at Rio thoughtfully. "Who was your first crush?"

Rio laughed, her face lighting up with a bit of mock embarrassment. "Alright, alright, I'll tell you. But it might surprise you."

"Try me," Y/n said, curious.

"Agatha," Rio replied simply, a soft smile gracing her lips. "From the moment I met her, I never looked at anyone else the same way. She had this spark, this confidence that was... magnetic. Even back then, she was one of a kind."

Y/n's eyes widened, surprised but warmed by the confession. "Really? All this time, and you never looked at anyone else?"

Rio chuckled, shaking her head. "Not a single soul. It was always her. She scared me a little at first, to be honest. But I think that's part of why I fell for her."

They shared a smile, and Y/n felt her heart swell with admiration. Seeing Rio in this vulnerable, open light made her appreciate the depth of love her parents shared, a love she knew was rare and extraordinary.

"Alright, my turn," Rio announced, snapping them back to the game. "What's one of the craziest things you've done that I don't know about?"

Y/n's eyes sparkled mischievously as she thought about when she'd snuck out after midnight to meet some friends for an impromptu beach bonfire. "Let's just say there may have been a night involving Sabrina and me, a beach, a full moon, and some very questionable marshmallow-roasting techniques," she admitted, laughing.

Rio let out a laugh, raising her eyebrows. "Oh, I would've loved to see that. Noted for future bonding activities."

"Your turn," Y/n said, nudging her with an expectant look. "What's the silliest thing you've ever done with magic?"

Rio groaned, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Alright, but don't laugh too hard. Back in Salem, when Agatha and I were still young witches, I tried to cast a simple glamour spell to make my eyes change color. You know, to impress her." She rolled her eyes at her younger self, shaking her head with a chuckle. "But instead of my eyes changing color, my entire face turned bright green. And I was stuck like that for hours until Agatha found the right counter-spell."

Y/n nearly choked on her drink, bursting into laughter. "Oh no! Did she make fun of you?"

Rio laughed, her cheeks tinged with embarrassment. "Oh, for weeks. She didn't let me forget it for a long time. She kept calling me 'Emerald' and asked if I needed any potion to 'match the rest of my look.'"

As their laughter faded, a comfortable silence filled the room. They nibbled on the last bites of their food, savoring the quiet peace that had settled between them. Eventually, Y/n broke the silence with another question, her tone more reflective.

"Mom, do you ever miss those old days? Like... back in Salem, before everything changed?"

Rio's smile softened as she gazed at Y/n. "Sometimes, I do. But those days, while special, were just the beginning of the journey that brought us here. All the magic, all the memories, it all led to this—to us, right here, right now. And I wouldn't trade this for anything in the world." She reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind Y/n's ear. "You're the best thing that ever happened to us."

Y/n's eyes misted, her heart warmed by her mother's words. She leaned her head against Rio's shoulder, feeling deeply grateful for the love she'd found in her family. "I love you, Mom."

Rio wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. "I love you too, kiddo. Now, let's top this night off with something sweet. What do you say to ice cream? Mint chocolate chip, of course."

"With sprinkles?" Y/n asked, grinning.

"Oh, definitely sprinkles," Rio replied, smiling as she led them to the kitchen to scoop out their treats. They sat on the countertop, bowls in hand, enjoying their ice cream as they continued their game, sharing more stories, laughs, and quiet moments of understanding.

The night ended with Y/n yawning and Rio ruffling her hair affectionately. She wrapped an arm around her daughter's shoulders, guiding her to her room, where she tucked Y/n in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Sweet dreams, mi amour," she whispered, her voice warm.

As Rio turned off the light and left, Y/n snuggled into her bed, feeling a deep, unbreakable bond with her family that would carry her through anything.

[agent-barnes40]

The Time Lords

The Master x Reader (Romantic) (Simm to Dhawan) (Platonic with Simm)

The Doctor & Reader (very platonic) (10-13)

Throughout the years, you get close to two very different Time Lords, what happens when they figure out the other?

~

You watched as The Master aggressively ate the rotisserie chicken you were saving for later. "That was for dinner, man."

"Shut up. I'm still hungry." The Master growled and looked up at you, his hands had started to tap in that four beat method, one you knew all to well.

You groaned and headed for your freezer. "You better pay me back for eating all my food! It's not like I hoard meat."

The Master tilted his head as he watched you walk around the kitchen, grabbing whatever meat items you could. He truly couldn't understand why you weren't scared of him, but again, you weren't scared of him on the Valiant either, even after everything he did to humanity. You stuck at his side, no matter what. You would stick at his side if he had anything to say about it.

~

The Doctor came to you a few days after The Master had taken off, his arms crossed as he tossed your house key back at you and you smiled, shoving it with the rest of your spare housekeys that you had made for the Time Lords. "Why are you giving me my key back? You planning on leaving?"

The Doctor shook his head, and that's when you noticed the gold shimmering up under his skin. You had been his last stop on his goodbye trip. "Wanted you to give the new me the next one."

You scoffed softly, the smile on your face dropping. "You'll find a spare one in that TARDIS of yours, Doctor. I'll see you in the next face okay?"

~

Of course, about a year or two later, The Doctor had come back, this time with a redhead and a man who looked like he did not want to be there. "Hold on Ponds. Let me just get the key in."

"Why are we breaking into someone's house anyway?" The redhead could be heard asking him before you opened the door and grinned at the bowtie wearing man.

"Let me guess, found my extra key?" You asked, looking up at The Doctor.

This time, however, you didn't expect to get lifted up in a hug and spun around, a kiss being pressed onto your head as a laugh bubbled out. "Okay! Okay!"

The Doctor let you rest back onto the floor and you held tightly onto him as the world spun, a grin you hadn't seen in years on his face. "Hey pinstripe. How long has it been for you?"

"The end of the world, literally." The Doctor said and you laughed again, knowing to take his words at their value.

"Of course, the world dying would get you to finally come back to me."

The Ponds stood still outside your door, and you turned to them. "Hi! Sorry for forgetting about you guys. He doesn't bring companions around much anymore."

The Doctor gave your arm a squeeze and you smiled at him. "Ah, okay. Should I give them keys too?"

"I mean you are the designated companion and time lord safe house." The Doctor said and you tilted your head softly.

"You might have a woman with big poufy hair show up. I gave her a key and your coordinates."

"Is it River again?"

The redhead sputtered a minute. "How do you know River?"

You got a mischievous look in your eyes that The Doctor definitely didn't like. "Spoilers, Pond."

~

The Master, well O, had started to show up after Bowtie had disappeared for a while. He needed help setting up an alias and wanted you as a good middle ground for him and the Doctor. "I am only setting you up with a Whatsapp, and then that's it, Master. I do not want to be in this scheme."

~

Of course time doesn't ever go linear for anyone who is friends with two time lords and a day later, The Master showed up on your doorstep, holding a key.

"Does he just keep giving those out? How is he getting more?" You asked running your hands over your face and The Master laughed softly.

"I have no clue poppet but.. I did snag it out of his pocket." The Master spoke and grabbed your hand. You recognized the outfit she was wearing.

"Why are you dressed like Mary Poppins had an evil daughter?" You asked and The Master stood there for a minute, a shocked look on her face.

"Now excuse me." The Time Lord said and you rose a brow.

"You are literally dressed like Mary Poppins but evil, Master."

The Master scrunched her face up and waved her hand in your face. "Its The Mistress, or for you, it can be Missy."

You grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "Of course, Missy."

~

Of course, Bowtie had started showing up more, and then he just didn't and a teary eyed Amy Pond stood at your door and all you did was open your arms and was crushed into a hug by the woman and you just held her. "H-He's dead!"

"Oh no, he's not. Our Doctor doesn't die. He cheats death. He's done it a million times, Pond." You don't know when you picked up his nickname for her but it backfired and she started to sob even louder.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'll keep you Pond's safe okay?"

~

O texted you one day, sending a photo of the cubes on the ground with a warning. 'Don't pick them up, love.'

You promptly ignored him and brought a singular one into your house, and sent a photo back. 'Make me, Master'

~

The texting between you and The Master picked up after that and suddenly you had a greying Doctor at your door, and he looked so upset. "What's wrong, Doctor?"

"How do you always know it's me?" He quietly asked and you opened your arms for him, just like you had done for so many of his past regenerations and his companions.

"Come here."

The Doctor hesitates and you close your arms. "Not a hugging face this time?"

He shook his head and you laughed softly. "Okay, grumpy. What do you want to do?

"An adventure?" He asked, it wasn't the first time he had asked you. It definitely wont be the last if you decline.

This time however, you reached a hand out. "Lets go run, Doctor."

~

Apparently running meant never going back home. Running meant seeing things you thought you were ready to see and running meant staying to comfort Clara and The Doctor when things got rough. Clara didn't show up at your door much but when she had, it was bad.

This time she showed up at your door in The TARDIS, eyes red and sniffling and all you had to do was open the door and she was collapsing in your arms. You knew what had happened, Missy had messaged you. Danny Pink was dead.

~

Missy had started to rile up The Doctor and you groaned. "He's married, robot!"

She twisted her head to look at you, starting to scan her eyes over you. "Are you in need of funeral services?"

You had recognized that look in her eyes and you rolled your eyes. "Yeah, for that grump you had pressed against the wall."

The Doctor watched as you and MISSI tossed flirts back and forth. "You know she's just a robot right?"

You rolled your eyes again. "And yet didn't you have an android boyfriend, Doctor? I could have a robot girlfriend."

"Not one that looks like Mary Poppins."

You couldn't stifle the snort that aggressively left your throat as you finally started to laugh at the absurdness of the situation. You had rubbed off on the Time Lord and Missy finally called for Chang.

Chang had started to crumble under the weight of acting so quickly when the bodies started to turn into Cybermen. You leaned against the wall, looking between everyone as The Doctor started to scramble. He looked at you and held his hand out and you rushed to follow him, Missy sending you a wink.

~

Cybermen had started to pour out of the building and you just watched. Missy had used the handle of her umbrella to pull your wrist away from the panicking Doctor. "Sorry, pet. Gotta keep up appearances."

You rolled your eyes as she held something phone shaped to your head. "Take me on a date first, Missy."

She hummed and pressed a kiss onto your cheek, leaving a print of her lipstick there. "Only if you ask nicely."

You recognized Osgood from a mile away and smiled at her scarf. Missy looked absolutely upset at being asked for a picture as The Doctor watched. You were roughly pulled from Missy's grip by him when the UNIT soldiers started to come up.

You had to ignore the mass amounts of messages you had started to get, your phone was blowing up with messages from O and you had to ignore them. You knew he was only acting worried, he knew what happens, if your assumptions were correct.

The Doctor looked at you and scanned you. "Are you okay?"

You smiled and squeezed his hand. "Of course, Doctor. Who else could have a weapon pressed to their head and be fine?"

He rose a brow and huffed softly. "Literally no one, are you sure your fine?"

"A make up wipe would be nice."

Missy waved a hand. "Front pocket, Love."

The UNIT soldiers watched as you reached into her front pocket through her skirts and pulled the wipes out. "Thanks, Mary Poppins."

She huffed as Clara came over to help you wipe off the lipstick and it just wouldn't come off. "You have to say the magic words, poppet."

You groaned, and all your acting fell apart. "Oh come on, Missy! Just let me wipe your lipstick off this time."

"Only for my favorite human!" The Time Lady snapped her fingers and you swiped the wipe over her lipstick mark and removed it.

The Doctor watched, his brows furring as you went to shove the wipes back into Missy's pocket. His hand reached out and stopped you from moving. "You know her."

You shrugged. "She's just pretty! Who else can say they flirted with an evil time Lord?"

"No, you asked her to let you wipe off her lipstick again." The Doctor pressed and you looked over to Missy.

You mouthed a sorry before looking back at The Doctor. "I am the Time Lord and Companion safe house, Doctor. You didn't specify which Time Lords."

The Doctor dropped his grip on you so quickly and you crossed your arms. "Well, this is the last I'll be seeing of this face, I can tell."

You turned to Kate, a smile on your face for the woman. "Can I get a ride home? I doubt Angry Brows over there will give me a ride home right now."

Missy huffed. "If he cared for you so little, then why does he still show up at your doors?"

You rolled your eyes and looked at her. "Because I'm the only one, aside from himself, you, and UNIT, that knows everything."

Kate looked between you and Missy and finally asked. "Who is she?"

You and Missy spoke in unison.

"She's the queen of evil."

"Queen of evil."

~

Of course you weren't allowed to go back home, or at least back to the TARDIS. You were sat in the presidential airplane and The Doctor looked at you. "How long have you had her in your house?"

You scoffed. "You think I had her living with me? She found her own place, or TARDIS to live. You're the one who let her steal your key!"

He groaned and shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling around for the key to your house and then held it up. "No I didn't."

You groaned and let your head drop to the table. "Time is never ever linear between the two of you, I swear!"

Your phone buzzed and you finally pulled it out of your pocket and you looked up at The Doctor after reading the text. You quickly clicked your phone off and stood up. "I need to talk to Missy."

"No. You are going to stay here." The Doctor ordered and you stilled for a moment.

"I'm not a companion, Doctor. I'm not under your duty of care." You snapped and headed for where they were holding Missy and The TARDIS. You knew Osgood was dead, at least one of the Osgood's at least.

~

You never expected Clara to show up your front door, and one look at her eyes told you everything. "Your dead, aren't you?"

"How'd you know?" She asked as she stepped in.

"Because he showed up. He kept asking about you. It broke my heart, Clars. I'm gonna miss you." You said, pulling out her regular drink choices and stopped when someone stepped in behind Clara.

"Sorry, Time Lords and Companion's only. I don't supply much for anyone else except for myself." You still had everyone's food choices in your fridge, time was never linear with anyone who traveled with The Doctor, so you kept buying food that you knew probably wouldn't get eaten.

~

You were in the middle of reading a book when you heard the TARDIS and you groaned, you turned to look at the box appearing in the corner. "Do you have to always park inside the house? I made you a designated parking spot outside!"

You watched as a greying man stepped out and your face scrunched. "Uhm, Hello! You do not give the vibe of The Doctor."

"Someone who gets it!" The man shouted back into the box.

"I knew they would!" A woman shouted back and you groaned.

"Doctor! Come on out!" You got up and placed your book to the side.

A blond haired woman stepped out, her hands in her pockets and she spun. "What do ya think?"

You smiled. "You got the upgrade Missy was talking about!"

"Yeah.. You aren't confused?" The Doctor asked and you laughed a small bit.

"Your always going to be The Doctor! It doesn't matter what your body presents, your always my favorite Doctor." You smiled even wider and held your arms out.

"First hug?" You asked.

The Doctor rushed toward you and you practically crushed each other in a hug. You missed The Doctor's hugs, sure you had one a couple of days ago but this was a completely new face hug. You loved a completely new face hug.

The rest of the people come flooding out of The TARDIS and you looked over at them. You pointed over to your bowl of keys. "Take one, all of you."

You pulled back, turning to look at The Doctor. Your face dropped at the look on her face. "I am not housing all of them, I housed the Ponds and Clara!"

The Doctor shook her head. "Not about The Fam-"

"I thought we agreed to not use that!" The group said in unison and you laughed.

"Can I get names real quick, of this group?" You asked, gesturing to them.

The Doctor quickly introduced you to Yaz, (cause the two of you were friends now) Ryan, and Graham. You looked back toward The Doctor who grabbed your hand. "Doctor, what's wrong?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Just uhm, Missy's dead." The Doctor said and you nodded.

"Okay, yeah. She'll show up eventually. New face, like you. She always has in the past."

"The ship exploded. She's gone, gone. I don't think she had a way off."

"Oh, okay. Well, uh.. Who wants drinks? Not alcohol but drinks none the less."

You avoided the look The Doctor was giving you and focused on Yaz, Ryan, and Graham. "If you just got stuff off The TARDIS, thats okay. I'm the designated Time Lord and Companion safe house, if any of you are in danger, have no housing, anything really.. I am your person. I have a list of foods you guys can add onto and I'll get it."

Graham gave you a sad look. "You were with this Missy, weren't you?"

You shrugged. "Situationship. She was mine but I don't think I'd ever fully be hers, we weren't exclusive but she was mine."

You nodded a little bit, reassuring yourself and you felt your phone buzz and you held your hand up, pulling your phone out and looking at the text O sent you. The Doctor always had a habit of peeking over shoulders and looked at the contact name. "You know O?"

You whipped to look at her so quickly. "Yeah, old friend."

~

Your TV lit up with the faces of Graham, Yaz, and Ryan labelling them as wanted criminals and you quickly dialed The Doctor. "I need you to pick up! Pick up!"

The call went to voicemail and you quickly dialed O. The Time Lord picked up instantly. "Hello Love, I see you saw my work with your friends."

"What did you do? O, I need to know." You demanded and you looked up when the front door was tossed open.

The Master grinned at you, tapping on the smartphone to end the call as he stalked over. He was in a suit and you instinctively stepped back. "Don't be so scared, Love. I'd never hurt you."

You shook your head. "I'm not scared of you. I'm scared of your plan. What are you doing to The Doctor?"

"She's currently with Ada Lovelace. Come on. I was coming to pick you up anyway." The Master had grabbed your wrist and started to direct you to the shack outside.

"You better not have landed on my car, Master. I'm gonna kill you if you did."

"I didn't. You human's and your vehicles." The Master grumbled and you scoffed.

"You Time Lord's and your vehicles! Do you know how many times I have had to replace chairs because you couldn't park right?" You snapped, letting him drag you into his TARDIS.

You rose a brow at the messiness of it all. "Missy would be throwing a fit right now. She kept the vault spotless, Master. How did this happen?"

The Master groaned and looked over at you. "Had to pretend to be human, love. I have to be messy."

You stared at him. "When you move in, you aren't trashing my house like this."

The Master started to pilot his TARDIS to 1834. He turned to look over at you, mid spin. "Move in?"

"Gotcha. I can't exactly move out of the safe house, I have to keep everyone safe, you know." You said, already moving toward the wardrobe, The Doctor had one and you knew The Master always had to one up them.

"You'll be moving in with me. We can change the exterior of my TARDIS to look like your house!" The Master shouted after you and you laughed.

"Do you think thats a good idea?" You called back.

"Anything for you!"

"Aww, you do have a soft side, Master."

~

That soft side did not last long and you were in the middle of two screaming Time Lords. You held your arms out, keeping the two separated. The Doctor had taken a deep breath in between her yells to look at how you were dressed and how you were trying to convince The Master to calm down.

"Did you know?" The Doctor asked and you turned to look at her.

"What do you mean, Doctor?"

"Did you know?" The Doctor asked again, this time emphasizing each word and The Master tightened his grip on the TCE at her tone.

Your face softened a soft bit. "Yes. I promised to be truthful with you after the 3W incident. I knew he was O. I set up his WhatsApp. I didn't know anything else. I didn't know the plan. I told him to keep me out of it."

"And you didn't think to tell me?" The Doctor practically yelled and you rose a brow.

"Oh yeah, let me just tell you that your old friend is actually the Time Lady you kept locked up in your basement. The Scotsman would've eyebrowed me to death!" You snapped.

The Master looked at you. This was new information. The Doctor had her mouth opening and closing as she chose her next words.

You shook your head. "I know when The Master or Missy is even involved, you get like this. Didn't expect you to get this mad though. I should've known. This is why I never told you about Missy and I, or the fact that he showed up after the year that never was, before you regenerated. You all entwined me into this keep away game. After this is all over. I'm leaving. Unit or you can have my house, keep it open for the companions but I'm done, Doctor. I can't have a life without it being one of the two of you."

The Master watched you and then he grabbed your wrist and pulled you behind him. The Doctor instinctively stepped back at the rage in his eyes. "Master! This has nothing to do with just her. Its the both of you and you both know it. Now! Shut up, play nice, and get me home. You two can kill each other to your hearts contents when I get a new place."

The two Time-Lords realized very quickly your anger was placed on the both of them and not just one. They both needed you. The one constant both have had throughout their regenerations and they both had lost you.

[narrans]

My Borrowed Son | 3 | Earning Trust

Amanda knew immediately the second she crossed the threshold of her home that she was in over her head. The minuscule boy in the palm of her hand needed intense care, and his size, being no bigger than her thumb, was going to be an immense challenge. 

Still, Amanda knew she made a promise to this boy, and she refused to let him down now - especially after they first met. She had earned a fragment of trust, and she intended to keep it. 

Finally making it past the mountains of boxes, she stepped into her kitchen and set her hand onto the counter. The slight jostle made the poor boy whimper pitifully. 

“You’re okay. I’m here,” she reassured just as she had done the whole way home. Seeing him in full light, Amanda wanted more than anything to give him a bath, but more importantly was the fact that he needed food. One handed, Amanda fished out a bowl and a standard can of chicken noodle soup and began heating it in the microwave. 

She wished she could give him something a little more nutritious and home-made, but that would have to wait. At the moment, her life was upside down. Everything happening was the last thing she wanted, but it was what she needed. 

While the little boy stayed huddled in her hand, Amanda continued to work. She realized after fumbling around for a minute for a spoon that she had nothing in her house that would be small enough for the child. Amanda, as her thoughts bounced around her skull like a bouncy ball, didn’t want to scare the child with a spoon that he could sit on; but he also needed something to eat the soup with. 

The boy watched with his insightful eyes, keeping eerily quiet, while Amanda searched. 

Feeling the pressure of his eyes, Amanda suddenly came up with an idea, but she’d need the boy to listen to instructions for this to work. She snagged a dish cloth from her sink and ran it under the water, moving delicately to not startle the little boy. When it was just barely damp, she turned off the water and held out just a little corner for him. 

“Could you rub your hands on the cloth? Okay? Rub your hands on the cloth,” coaxed Amanda as she mimicked the motion with her thumb and index finger. The infinitesimal child blinked uncertainly before inching himself across Amanda’s palm, making a tingling shiver shoot up her arm, and imitating the motion, rubbing his hands on the cloth. 

Her mind was absolutely numb. This boy was absolutely amazing. At every turn, she was discovering something new about him and what he understood. Did that mean he could speak as well?

The thought was fascinating, but it would have to wait because, just then, the microwave dinged. Amanda moved instinctually at her own pace simply to look over at the kitchen appliance, but it was enough to jostle her hand and make the boy whimper and take cover against Amanda’s curled fingers. 

“Oh… oh no… It’s okay, sweetie. I’m sorry,” muttered Amanda as she curled her fingers a little tighter. The boy whimpered again, hiding his soft brown eyes as he kept them shut tight. His breathing was rapid, and he was trembling ever so slightly. Amanda could feel him against her fingertips. It made her heart hurt, so she tried coaxing him a little more. “I’ll move slower. I promise. You’re okay.” 

Seemingly convinced, the sandy haired boy to open his eyes once again after a few minutes and looked back up at Amanda. To her, it looked like he was seeking reassurance in her eyes, and she freely gave it. 

“There you go. See? All better,” Amanda encouraged. Moving slower now, Amanda retrieved the soup, a soft drink cap, and the loaf of bread from the kitchen counter. With the items neatly organized, Amanda dipped the cap into the warmed soup and tested the temperature to make sure he wouldn’t get burned before daring to lower both the cap and the little boy to the kitchen counter. 

Goodness… he’s so small. He looks like one of those little salt and pepper shakers, Amanda thought as she kept her hand on the counter, the boy still sitting on the edges of her fingers. He was looking around at all of the cabinets and drew his legs in toward him, obviously intimidated. 

To make this a positive experience, Amanda acted quickly and pinched off a corner of bread and offered it to the boy. His little features furrowed in confusion as he carefully took the bread from in between her pinched fingers. He rotated around so he could face her but didn’t leave the safety of her hand. 

It wasn’t ideal, but it was the only option she had. She didn’t want to force the boy off. If her hand was where he felt safe, then that was where he should stay. 

Amanda moved the cap of soup onto her palm in front of the boy before pulling her own bowl toward her. 

“Here now, watch me, okay? Just dip the bread into the soup, like this,” instructed Amanda. Keeping her hand steady, she took her own piece of bread and dipped it into the liquid, swirled it around, and then brought it to her lips for a bite. The soft brown eyed boy watched Amanda do this several more times before looking down at his own piece of bread and, to her amazement, dipping it into the broth in the lid, imitating Amanda’s behavior. 

Thankfully, Amanda didn’t need to continue repeating the action because the moment the bread and salty soup touched his lips, the boy began to eat ravenously, broth dribbling down his front and into his already filthy clothes. 

Now really able to see him, Amanda saw that the little boy’s outfit consisted of a shirt with a faded yellow button on his front that took up most of his chest and a big green button on his back that was like the one on his chest. He was barefoot, mud caked in between his toes, and his pants were obviously soiled. 

It made Amanda’s heart twist in her chest. How long had this boy been out on his own? 

When the little pinch of bread was gone, the most pitiful look filled his eyes as he looked back up at Amanda eagerly, to which she happily gave him another piece. He inhaled three fair sized bread pinches before he showed signs of slowing down. It was on the fifth piece that he slowed and stopped, simply holding the bread close and nibbling on the edge absentmindedly. 

Amanda knew she would need to get some utensils for him, but now was not that time. Now, after the boy had some food in him, she managed to convince him to drink a little bit of water before she shuffled both of them to the bathroom. 

A bath was in order. 

She stepped up to her bathroom sink and began to run some warm water. She found some vapor bubble bath that would probably do the little boy some good and added that to the running water in the sink. 

At first sight, however, the boy whimpered and scuttled across her hand to grasp her thumb with all of his might. He was shivering violently and fell to his knees. Amanda kept her free hand cupped near her thumb in case the little boy accidentally lost his balance. Perhaps it was instinct, but the boy’s ability to balance on such a malleable substance like a hand was incredible. 

She couldn’t pause to marvel at him now, however. 

With a feeling like a punch in the gut, Amanda tried figuring out how to convince this child he was alright and that the water was alright. 

Did something happen related to water to make him so afraid? Amanda wondered. The horrid thought that he had been swept away in a rainstorm from his family made her heart clench. Just keep reassuring him. Show him it’s okay. He trusted you with the bread, right? 

It was a weak argument, but it was all she had. 

“It’s okay sweetie,” coaxed Amada, speaking once again in a low, sonoric tone. “It’s just water, see?” With that, Amanda carefully placed her other hand under the water and moved her fingers around, splashing the liquid around the sink. The little boy continued clutching Amanda’s thumb as he whimpered. 

She had to try something else. Then, she got an idea. 

Amanda cupped her one hand and caught some of the water in it before pulling it away from the faucet and holding it up to the little boy. 

“Here, see? It’s just water,” reassured Amanda as she tapped the puddle of water in her palm while holding it up to the boy. 

He turned his soft brown eyes to Amanda before looking back at the water. Tears still staining his face, he leaned forward and barely touched the water with the tip of his finger. 

The miniscule boy instantly retraced his finger and huddled against Amanda’s thumb, but a smile from her and another reassuring, “It’s okay,” had the boy tapping the liquid until the tears stopped. 

It would take Amanda another twenty minutes to coax the little boy under the stream of water where she gently massaged soap into his hair and over his clothes. While she worked, she watched the boy’s eyes drifting further and further down, drowsiness overtaking him. The sight was adorable beyond words. Though tentative, his trust mixed with exhaustion was making this little boy fall asleep in her hands. 

Amanda dried him off, careful not to jostle his head, and carefully constructed a toga-like outfit. Cutting away the little boy’s clothes was nerve wracking and made Amanda’s heart ache at seeing all of his injuries as well as his little ribs, which were clearly visible. There were also numerous bruises on his body as well as scratches, some of which ran from the base of his back to the top of his neck. 

Was he attacked by something? How long has he been out there? Where are his parents? Did he have parents? 

Amanda organized a shoebox with some snacks, water, and bedding and set the unconscious boy inside. Evidently, he had fallen asleep in her hand while she put together a space for him.

His little forehead furrowed as he twitched and turned into the bed Amanda made for him.

Now, more than ever, she needed to find out about this little boy, and, beyond that, she needed to find a way to protect him - no matter what.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

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