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queensunshinee · 5 months ago

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Time Of Our Lives || Part 16

Part 16:

Patrick heard Liana vomiting faintly and it made him jump out of bed. "Li, is everything okay?" he asked from outside the bathroom. "Everything's great, go back to sleep," she stammered, and he sighed. He went to the kitchen and filled a glass of water, entered the bathroom, and saw her sitting on the floor, holding her hair with one hand and gripping the edge of the toilet with the other, trying to steady herself.

"Hey, baby, it's okay. I got you," he mumbled, placing the glass on the sink and sitting down next to Liana, holding her hair in place and tracing gentle shapes on her shoulder. She was shaking from the effort as her free hand also moved to hold onto the toilet.

"Sorry I woke you," she mumbled after a few minutes, not moving her head out of fear of vomiting again. "Don't be silly, is it something you ate?" he asked. His eyebrows furrowed as he handed her the water. "There was only regular milk at work, I probably drank one cup of coffee too many yesterday," she mumbled, and as soon as she finished speaking, she vomited again, and they found themselves in the same position.

"Come on," after a few minutes of this, he helped her get up from the floor. Patrick spread toothpaste on her toothbrush and put it in her mouth, starting to move it side to side. Liana could cry. She felt the tears gathering at the back of her eyes, in moments like these she remembers how gentle and sensitive Patrick can be. If he only wants to, if he cares enough.

He stood in the bathroom while she showered and didn't take his eyes off her, not in a sexual way but out of genuine concern. Because at the end of the day, Patrick loves her, even if sometimes he doesn't know how to show it.

"Shall we go back to sleep?" he asked hopefully. "There's no point, I feel better and in half an hour, I would've had to get up anyway," she shrugged as he handed her a towel. "Li, maybe you should stay home today?" he asked, even though he knew the answer. "I'm on a schedule and in a few days, the construction starts, I need to get there to fix some drawings. If I'm lucky, I might be able to leave earlier," she smiled at him. "I don't know..." he tried to protest. Just ten minutes ago, she was shaking in his hands, and now he has to let her get dressed and leave the house. "I'm fine Pat, really. I'll drink tea today, and I'll be okay," she gave him a small kiss on the lips and left the bathroom, concluding the conversation.

"Then there must be a pillar here, otherwise the whole thing will collapse, and we didn't draw it in the sketch." Art heard Liana's voice from afar, like an echo. He automatically found himself walking towards her, because that's why Art came. He didn't really care about the construction schedule; as far as he was concerned, the longer this thing took, the more time he had to come and see her work. An excuse to be close without being creepy.

"Hey," he gave a small wave, keeping his distance from her conversation but letting her know he was there. "Mr. Donaldson," she mumbled, and so did the guy working with her. Art could say that nothing happens in his body when she calls him 'Mr. Donaldson'. That formality in front of people doesn't affect him at all. It doesn't send a little shiver through him. No memories surface, and he certainly doesn't imagine that one day she might be 'Mrs. Donaldson'. He could say all that, but he tries not to lie too much.

"Miss Levy," he returned a toothy smile, and she walked towards him. "Why are you here?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Where? On the land I bought?" he was amused. Now that she was closer, he could examine her. He wondered if he would ever get used to the fact that she needed glasses now when she worked. Or the small wrinkle that formed on the side of her mouth from the number of times she smiled and laughed. He wished it was because of him. Too many times he thinks about the number of things he could tell her that would make her laugh enough to deepen that wrinkle.

"You look... green." he mumbled after a few seconds. She was pale, even for her. "It's January, I turn green in January." she retorted. "Liana." he tried a more official tone, a bit more concerned. "I'm fine, Arthur, let it go. Can I ask a favor?" she asked, looking at him with big eyes. Making him raise an eyebrow. There are very few things Liana could ask of him that he wouldn't agree to do. She must know that by now. "Always." he said quicker than his ego was happy to hear. "Can you give me Tashi's number?" she asked and saw his surprised look. "Why? Are you trying to steal my coach for your lazy boyfriend?" he asked, feigning amusement. He didn't understand the endgame of this move. Overall, he didn't understand what Liana had to talk about with Tashi; Liana hates tennis, and from what Art knows, Tashi enjoys talking mostly about tennis. "don't call Patrick lazy, can you give it to me or not?" she didn't answer him. "Will it hurt my interests?" he asked, pulling out his phone. "I would never do that, Art." she sighed, and he sent her the number. There are very few things Art Donaldson wouldn't give to Liana Levy.

Liana waved for a second when she saw Tashi entering the café where they had agreed to meet. She couldn't help but feel tense and wondered how to calm her jittery leg. Why couldn't she just act like a normal person and be more…cool.

"Hey, Liana, what's up? Sorry if I'm late." Tashi was a bit confused. A bit was an understatement. Tashi was very confused. 'Hey, it's Liana, if you have free time, I'd really appreciate it if we could meet' was the message she received yesterday, and that's how she found herself in a café, sitting in front of the girl Art has been trying to fuck without success for God knows how long. Tashi couldn't help but wonder what Art's tennis would look like if he succeeded.

"All good. I'm early." Liana smiled. "Do you want to order something to eat?" she asked, and Tashi waved at the waiter, asking for coffee. Her energy was businesslike. Always in a hurry. Always busy. It didn't matter that she came from the rain. It didn't matter if she was cold or hot. She had no time to waste. "What's up, Liana?" Tashi asked after a few more minutes of awkward silence. "Is this about Art?" she added. "No... Art's not involved." she answered too quickly. Why did she answer so quickly? "So how can I help you?" she asked, taking a sip of the coffee that had just arrived.

"I don't have many friends here." Liana took a deep breath. She knew how it sounded. Desperate and pathetic. But she had no choice. She really didn't know who to talk to. "So... you want me to?" Tashi looked horrified for a moment. Not understanding what situation she had gotten into. "God, no." Liana's eyes widened. "Can you stop with the leg? It's driving me crazy." Tashi said. All the chaotic energy Liana was emitting didn't suit her. It almost threw her off balance.

"I'm pregnant." Liana said quietly right after she took a sip of her tea. She examined Tashi, who looked back at her. "Patrick?" Tashi asked, and Liana looked at her horrified. "Of course it's Patrick's. Whose else?!" she defended herself. "So, congratulations, I guess?" Tashi still didn't understand why she was there. Why her time was being wasted with news about her ex from years ago. If it's not Art's child, if it doesn't become Tashi's problem, why bother filling her brain with this unnecessary information.

"No. I don't want this." Liana said, and Tashi couldn't hide her surprise. "I'm Sorry, what?" she couldn't stop herself. "It was a mistake. I'm on the pill, and I really don't know how it happened. I need to stop this..." Liana mumbled. It wasn't coherent, but Tashi understood every word. "You've been together for years, Liana, I don't understand..." Tashi tried to be more sensitive. "It's just not the right time. We need more stability, and bringing a child into something like this is just not fair." she said, looking at her for a change.

"I would go alone, but I need someone to be listed as an escort," she averted her gaze as she said it. Ashamed of what she was asking from the girl in front of her, a complete stranger in her life, yet the only one she could think of. "Patrick?" Tashi asked quietly. "He doesn't know." Liana's eyes filled with tears. "Please-" she had been thinking about this monologue from the moment she found out, three days ago. "Okay" there was no need. Tashi answered immediately. "Okay, I'll go with you." she smiled the most genuine smile she had to offer. "Thank you." they both took a sip of their drinks. The rain outside intensified.

When Liana entered the house, Patrick was in the kitchen, and she quietly leaned on the doorframe, watching him while he wasn't looking. Thinking about what she was going to do tomorrow. Knowing it's for their own good. He wouldn't understand if she told him. He wouldn't understand, and he would want to keep it, and neither of them could raise a child right now. She knows that. She knows he will hate her no matter what she decides tomorrow. If he finds out, he will feel trapped. He will feel like she has ruined his life. Again. Little by little. Each time draining him of the last drop of joy left in him. The last drop of youth.

"Are you just staring now? Not saying hello?" he asked, amused. He had felt her gaze on him for a few minutes. "Hey," she approached him and hugged him from behind. Leaning on his shoulder and closing her eyes. "Hey, Lilo," he was confused. Not understanding the sudden closeness. The last few days had been strange, to say the least. Liana and Patrick hadn't fought even once. She hadn't been feeling well, and he mostly tried not to bother her with his presence. He was afraid of making her feel even worse than she already did, and the more he distanced himself, the closer she got. The more space he gave her, the more she sought touch.

"What are you making?" she asked quietly, not moving an inch, still with her eyes closed. "I'm pretty useless, but I called your mom, and she gave me a recipe for the soup you like," he said quietly. "You called my mom?" she asked in a half-broken voice. "You haven't been well for a few days, Lilo. I wanted to make something that would make you feel good," their gazes met.

Liana started crying, and Patrick panicked. These weren't just tears welling up in her eyes but real crying with her hands on her face. "Hey, hey, Liana. What's going on?" he gently took her hands off her face, revealing how red she had become in those seconds, how sad she was. His hug was comforting. More comforting than anything she had felt recently. "I'm such a bitch. Really," she mumbled. "Lilo, you're the kindest person I know," he chuckled above her head, tracing small shapes on her shoulder while gently rocking her, trying to soothe her in any way he could.

"I really love you. You know that, right?" she pulled away from him for a second and studied him. "Of course, I know," he replied, "I don't understand what's going on, Lil. I need you to talk to me." He was half-lost, not understanding what he did or what she did that led to this situation. "I don't say it enough, but I really love you, Patrick. More than I love most people in the world," she said again, unable to stop the tears. "I know. I really know," he replied, hugging her once more, not letting her slip away from him. "You're okay. Whatever it is, we're okay," he said, and she nodded into him.

Liana also thinks that most of the time, they are okay.

The months that passed were more of the same. Liana worked on Art's house, meeting with him once or twice a week to show him the project's progress. Every time he tried to have a conversation beyond professional matters, Liana cut him off. She owed that to Patrick. She owed it to herself and Patrick to be okay. She couldn't let herself betray him emotionally with someone who, the moment he had a hold on her emotions, her entire system would recalibrate around him again.

The calm dynamic between Liana and Patrick lasted exactly two weeks. Liana was quite sure they didn’t know how to manage without fighting to the point where she wanted to smash a plate against the wall. Sometimes they went to bed without exchanging a single word, and those were the days it was hardest for her to be near him. Those were the days she also canceled meetings with Art because Patrick made her so angry she became indifferent. And indifference leads to mistakes. She knew that. She had seen it up close.

Now, with both Art and Patrick participating in the tournament in Atlanta, Liana found herself ordering coffee and soda at the hotel bar while opening her laptop, hoping to tie up some loose ends before sitting down with Art for a few minutes tomorrow. "Hey, Liana," she heard Tashi’s voice from behind. They hadn’t been in touch since that time, when Tashi went with her. But Liana had a soft spot for the woman in front of her. She used to be so afraid of her once, trembling when exchanging more than a word with her. Today she thought she and Tashi saw each other with flaws and strengths. Sometimes Liana didn’t know what her strengths were, but she always knew Tashi’s.

"Hey," she smiled at her. "Mind if I sit for a bit while I wait for my order for Art and me?" she asked. "Is he sending you to fetch orders now?" Liana raised an eyebrow. It was uncharacteristic. "Actually, no, I saw you from afar and didn’t want his mind to be distracted." Tashi said, and Liana rolled her eyes, wanting to say something. "There’s no way I could distract him right now. Not before I finish working, nothing to talk to him about" she said, and Tashi rolled her eyes and chuckled. Liana wasn’t entirely sure if something was happening between Tashi and Art. It wasn’t her place to ask him, she wasn’t in contact with Tashi, and her parents hadn’t told her anything special as gossip as they usually did about his life. Maybe it was just friendly, and she was purely his coach, but Liana didn’t want to be in the middle of it. She wasn’t going to disrupt Art’s happiness. She was with Patrick. Most of the time, she was happy with Patrick.

"Has he ever shown you his necklace?" Tashi asked. "Excuse me?" Liana was confused. "Art, has he ever shown you his necklace?" she asked again, slower, like speaking to a child. "No, I never asked, and it’s always under his shirt," Liana shrugged as Tashi took her order. "He’s such a pussy," she shook her head from side to side, chuckling. "So dominant on the court and yet, such a coward. Unbelievable. Good to see you, send my regards to Patrick," she smiled and walked toward the exit, not giving Liana a chance to respond.

Art was terrified. He was bored, so he went down to the lobby half an hour before the time he had arranged with Liana. He was so happy he could see her in person and knowing she was also in Atlanta, that he didn’t care the only reason they were meeting was to talk about the house. But now he felt the air leave his lungs. He saw Tashi and Patrick. Holding hands. Like that. In the fucking lobby. And while Tashi didn’t owe anyone anything, Patrick owed Liana. And Art was supposed to be happy because he understood what was happening. It was Patrick. No matter how much time passed, he knew Patrick.

When he returned his gaze to where they had been sitting, after giving someone an autograph, they were gone. His heart was beating faster than usual. He felt like crying. He was supposed to be happy, but all he could think about was Liana’s face and that he was about to be someone who told her something that would make her cry. Again. He swore to himself he'd never make her cry again, but he was about to. And he hated it.

"Donaldson," she smiled at him, causing him to jump in his chair. "How did you get so startled, you were practically looking at me," she rolled her eyes, and he smiled at her. "What’s wrong?" she asked. His smile was fake. Liana hated that she could still tell if his smile was fake. "Nothing, just thoughts about the tournament." he said. "You crushed your competitor today, you’ll be fine." she rolled her eyes. "Mind if I order some wine? It’ll help me sleep." she added. He didn’t know she liked to drink wine. "Of course. I would order some too, but, you know." he replied, somewhat pleased she was allowing herself to relax a bit around him. It took her only a year.

"So, I’ll show you a few things and then let you go." she said, sipping her wine, and he nodded. "Hit me." "Question, while the computer loads." she said, and he looked at her. Liana hated how his green hoodie made the bright blue of his eyes stand out. She had never seen so many shades of blue as when she looked closely at Art Donaldson’s eyes.

"Talk to me." he leaned on his elbow, not taking his eyes off her. A little reveling in the moment. A little afraid to ruin it. A little wanting to ruin it. Because the voice in his head told him he had to tell her. Liana had to know. She deserved to know. Art deserved a chance. He would never do this to her.

"What’s the story with your necklace?" she asked, and he raised an eyebrow, quickly running a hand over the back of his neck. "There’s no story." he answered too quickly. He wanted to punch himself for it. "Arthur. Come on, what’s the deal, you didn’t wear a necklace when we were kids. Is it a gift from someone?" she asked. "Are you keeping track of my jewelry, Liana? Be careful, I might think you care about me more than you let on." he knew it would make her change the subject. He wouldn’t tell, but the blush on her cheeks and the big sip she took from her wine only made the conversation better.

"This is the final plan. They started the interior construction two days ago." she showed him a diagram on the computer, moving a bit closer to him. Close enough for her scent to hit him like a slap in the face. He wanted to dive into that closeness. To reach out. To tell her and immediately promise everything would be okay. That he would be there to pick up the pieces. He knew he could.

"I saw Patrick and Tashi earlier." he said quietly, almost in a whisper. Not taking his eyes off her. "Oh, I didn’t know they were in touch..." Liana said, not moving her eyes from the computer. "Liana," he sighed. He hoped she would understand from the previous sentence. That he wouldn’t have to say it. "What?" she looked at him and chuckled, but her smile quickly faded when she saw his expression, "Just say what you have to say, Donaldson." she said with an uncharacteristic coldness.

She knew Art too well. Every time she tried to deny it, she could precisely recognize a look he gave or a joke that no one around understood. She knew how to tell by his walking pace to a construction site if he had a good practice or if he was tired. She knew who he was at his core. And more than anything, she knew how he looked when he was about to break her heart.

"They were holding hands and then disappeared from my sight," he sighed, breathing heavily. He said it in a whisper, almost not wanting to say what had been weighing on him. "Oh." she drank all that was left of her wine in one gulp and signaled the waiter she wanted another glass, returning her gaze to the computer. "I need to finish a few things, and I believe we can wrap everything up in two months. After that, you’ll need to work with an interior designer-" "Liana." Art interrupted her and placed his hand on hers, giving it a slight squeeze. This made her move her hand to her leg.

Without realizing it, tears welled up in her eyes, and the waiter who brought her wine hurried away from the table as fast as he arrived. "Talk to me, please." he was desperate to know what was going through her mind. "It’s okay, it’s whatever," she shrugged and looked at him indifferently, letting one of her tears fall.

"Liana." he sighed. "How is it okay? He’s cheating on you." Art wanted to raise his voice. He wasn’t mad at her. He was mad at Patrick. He was mad at the circumstances. He was mad at himself. "I know what holding hands and disappearing with Tashi Duncan means for someone like Patrick, Art. Contrary to what you think, I’m not stupid." her words were almost venomous, but he knew she wasn’t lashing out at him. He knew he was the closest person right now. He was ready to take it.

"What do you think is happening here?" she asked, taking another big sip of wine. "That I’ll hear about Tashi and Patrick and go up to your room so you can fuck me until I forget all my problems?" she asked, and he almost choked on his own spit. He didn’t expect her to be so blunt. That sentence showed how long she’d been in a relationship with Patrick. He spoke through her.

"No, Liana." he sighed again. Running his hand over the back of his neck once more but this time leaving it there a little longer. "I’m content in my relationship. Shit happens." she finished the second glass in one go and closed the laptop, ready to leave. "Shit happens? How many times has it already happened, Liana?" he couldn’t believe the level of indifference. He wanted to shake her so hard that her brain would reset and go back to the beginning. To reboot her self-respect that had clearly been trampled on more than once.

"Bye Art, good luck tomorrow." she muttered and turned. This time his grip on her hand was firm above the table. She wouldn’t be able to move him. Not now. "You’re making a scene." she whispered. He couldn’t help but think about the power dynamics between them now that she was standing and he was sitting, but he was holding her. She couldn’t move as long as he was holding her. And if it were up to him, he would hold her forever.

"Look. Here." he did the only thing he could think of and pulled the pendant of the necklace over his shirt. Seeing her breath catch for a moment. "Is that...?" She couldn't find the words and automatically moved her free hand over the metal. "Yes." He whispered. His grip loosened, and he let his fingers intertwine with hers over the table without her pulling away. "Why?" She murmured, not stopping her hand from moving over the pendant, her dorm key. The key he refused to return to her time and again. Hanging around his neck. "You know why." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Why?" She asked again. Not letting go. She had to hold on to something, and he knew that if he wanted to give her a moment of peace, even if not for himself—because for himself, he would have chosen another way to tell her, to show her—that all these years, she had been his good luck charm, even from afar. Right now, she was the only one who mattered. Only succeeding in changing the way she looked at herself and what she thought she deserved. "Because I’m yours. I’ve always been only yours."

Oh my god!!! I hope it wasn't too long. I feel like so much has happened in this part, but we are finally in Atlanta. What are you thinking guys? We've got a bit more Tashi on this one. I love hearing from you, so talk to me. Thanks for still reading and commenting. It means the actual world.

taglist: @soberbabes @nina357 @lamoursansfin @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

#art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig #the time of our lives #tashi duncan #challengers fic

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handsofred · 6 months ago

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So....I saw a couple of posts about Stiles and his emergency contact and this popped up in to my mind...It's not finished, I'm planning on adding more to it and then posting it on AO3, but just wanted to see what you guys thought of it so far.

Stiles was...well... He was fucked! And it wasn't even his fault this time okay, it seriously wasn't. So the fact that he was currently laid up in an emergency side room, holding a bloody towel to his temple wasn't something anyone could tell him otherwise. Because it was not his fault. The fact that his other arm was cradled against his chest as well and possibly broken also wasn't his fault. None of this was and yet he was the one sitting there, injured and hurting while the other guy was currently fighting with the nurses down the hall, each yell and squeak of footwear against the floor driving another nail in to his head. Of course that guy was drunk, driving a stupid car which crashed in to Stiles' jeep and made him veer off to the side, hitting another car as he went while drunk guy continued to drive on, hitting others too. But it was also the fact that the side he was pushed towards just happened to slope downwards...just enough to send the jeep rolling once or twice and land upside down. He was fucked, but he was alive.

Sitting back against the bed, he let his eyes close against the bright lights of the room, just hoping that someone would turn up soon and pick him up or just keep him company. ''Uh...Mi...Mr. Stilinski?'' The nervous tone of the nurse had him opening his eyes and turning towards the young nurse who was stood in the doorway. ''That's me...Stiles actually.'' He told her, offering what he hoped was a kind smile, but it felt more of a grimace as another loud noise sent pain running through his head again. ''Stiles...of course.'' She smiled before slipping inside and closing the door behind her, helping to cut some of that noise down. ''The doctor will be with you soon to stitch up your wound, I'm sorry about the wait.''

''Not your fault, there's others who are more hurt than me out there.'' He replied with a light shrug, he knew how the emergency room can be on a Friday night, Melissa had told him and Scott enough horror stories growing up.

It seemed to make the nurse brighten a little as she nodded and came over to the end of the bed, flipping the chart she had in her hands a couple of times. ''We tried the number that you gave us for your emergency contact, but there was no answer. I promise you that we tried a couple of times but each time it just rings out.'' She told him with an apologetic look. ''I know that you said that your father was out of town currently, but do you have anyone else that we could call to come for you?''

Sighing, he shook his head a little, knowing that the chances of Scott actually picking up the phone was something he couldn't rely on half the time, it reminded him that he really needed to update his contacts as he thought through who he could call.

Dad was out of town in a conference, that was a hard no. Melissa was currently on her own floor and too busy to deal with him, another hard no. Scott...well, Scott was just not picking up.

Derek was in town, but was dealing with his own things, he knew that if he called the Alpha, that there was a slight chance he would come, but he didn't want to disturb him, not when Cora had recently come back to town again and they were finally making up for lost years.

''Mr.... Stiles?'' The nurse spoke softly. ''Is there anyone I can contact for you?''

''I think....for the moment...I just need to think about it.'' Stiles admitted quietly, feeling small on the bed as she offered him a smile and nodded.

''Okay, just let me know when you're ready.'' She told him warmly before glancing at the clock. ''The doctor should be in soon to stitch you up, but we should be able to get you down to X-Ray and back before then to check that arm out for you.''

''Thank you.''

The words were soft spoken and accepted as she headed back out the room to grab a wheelchair for him. Pulling his phone out in the meantime, Stiles opened up the group chat for the pack and just stared down at the chat box before he sighed.

Lil'Red: So...funny story, currently in the emergency room of our lovely town. NOT my FAULT at all this time, drunk driver hit me and some others...but I need someone to come and get me, jeep is a total wreck and Scott isn't picking up as my emergency contact. Possible concussion, possible broken arm and I'm needing stitches, so...yeah...any help would be good.

ZombieWolf is typing.....

SilverFox is typing.....

#teen wolf #ao3 #fic #writing #stiles stilinski #peter hale #chris argent #Peter x Stiles x Chris #Steter #petopher #stetopher #stargent #handsofred #I always thought Scott shouldn't be an emergency contact for anyone #can't trust him to not pick up

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starfilmz · 2 months ago

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i can’t write rn bc writer’s block, but i can’t help but imagine trust fund baby!reader who’s friends with sam when he was in stanford.

i don’t know if trust fund baby is the right label to use but just imagine very rich reader unintentionally (and intentionally) spoiling sam to no end especially when they’re hanging out.

sam would’ve probably preferred hanging out in parks, arcades, diners, etc just simple places where he doesn’t have to spend much money, and you’re not one to complain, but you would pay for almost half (80% if sam wasn’t paying attention) of everything yall buy.

he was used to eating just so he wouldn’t starve to death so he’d only spend money on one meal and a soda, but ever since befriending you, every meal ends with desserts— sometimes shared or not, but since sam can’t stop your sweet tooth and he continuously refuses to let you spend money on him, he’ll let you by one for yourself and you’d always share with him!

arcades are ya’lls favorite spot for sureee. whenever yall are too into a game, sam would fail to notice when you’d spend money on tokens. it would be his turn to play and he won’t realize you’re gone until he finished a round, then he’d just see you carrying a whole bag of tokens.

“if we don’t run out of coins then i’ll have more chances to win,” you proudly say. sam rolls his eyes and grabs a handful from your bag. “or just more times you’ll lose!”

for crane games, when you’d want a stuffed toy so badly, you’ll say:

“what if i just buy the teddy bear?” sam laughs at your words, but he’ll soon learn you weren’t kidding when you somehow managed to convince one of the attendants to let you buy with actual money.

sam walks beside you, staring down on the bear plushie in your arms. “how much did you pay the guy?” you only give him a grin as a response.

drinks are always on your tab unless offered otherwise. sam will always offer, after every night out with you, to buy the both of you greasy food to avoid hangovers though. friday night, usually past midnight, would be the time you’d see yourself eating whatever burger sam ordered for you, sitting on a curb in front of the diner with him.

a few weeks before his law school interview, you offered (forced) sam to let you buy him a suit. when sam first showed you the the suit he planned to wear (which were the ones he’d always use when he pretend to be fbi but you don’t know that) and despite his explanation that a quick wash in the laundry and some ironing it’ll look better, you simply refused and brought him to your usual spot to buy fancy clothes.

“since he’s a bit tall, you’ll need to do a lot of adjustments with the suits.” the saleswoman explained. sam immediately had a worried expression at the thought of you spending even more money, but before he could argue, you would’ve already handed your card to the lady.

“do what you need to do, just make sure we’ll get them back in a week,” you said. you turned to see sam and you could only gave him a reassuring smile at his face. “this is the least i can do for you, sam. don’t fight it.”

in group works, your “friends” would suggest doing the work at your house since you supposedly had the biggest. you don’t keep your upbringing a secret to anyone, but sam can see how uncomfortable you’d be when other people would boast your wealth on your behalf.

“i think doing it in the library is fine,” sam would intervene in the conversation you were already zoning out on. “it’s easier to plan meetings, too.”

“but y/n’s house—“

“—has other people living there. we don’t know if y/n’s parents would agree to every schedule we have so let’s just do the work in the library, or anywhere in the campus.” sam’s hand would be on the small on your back after, as if reassuring you and bringing you back into the conversation when everyone was expecting your response.

you could only nod, eyes on him. “yeah, sam’s right. sorry.” but you still gave him a small smile which was enough for him to know you’re thankful for what he did.

#sam winchester #supernatural #spn #sam winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #spn x reader #jared padalecki #headcanons #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fic #sam winchester x gn!reader #sam winchester fanfic #stanford!sam

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redrose10 · 3 months ago

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44 with either yoongi or jungkook!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Since I haven’t gotten any other Jungkook requests I wanted to use him but this prompt is just so Yoongi coded I had to do it.

#44 I still remember the way you taste

Warnings: Swearing, a little suggestive but nothing extreme, some self doubt, maybe a little power play but in a playful way

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When you graduated high school you had decided to take a year off before going to college. Something about finding yourself and deciding what you wanted to do with your life. Well one year turned into two turned into five and now here you were ten years after graduating high school sitting in a college freshman literature class.

After having what you’re calling a very small little breakdown (your friends would call it a full blown complete meltdown after one too many margaritas) about not having accomplished anything with your life you decided it was time to get back into it and go to college.

You weren’t 100% sure what you wanted your major to be so right now you were taking mostly just filler courses to fulfill your credit requirements.

Looking around the room made you feel so old. Everyone there was fresh out of high school, so wide eyed and full of hope as they sipped on their sugary coffees and panic attack inducing energy drinks. You stuck to a nice simple green tea with just enough caffeine to wake you up a little, but not make you feel like you were having a constant heart attack. One of the many joys of getting older.

Bored you scribbled away in your notebook when you heard the door close behind you.

“Alright class, Welcome to Literature 101. I’ll be your professor this semester. My name is Min Yoongi. You can call me Professor or Professor Min.”

The oh so familiar sight made you choke on your tea. You coughed and coughed and sputtered as the entire class including your professor stared at you. Once you composed yourself you apologized feeling like your entire body was on fire from embarrassment.

Yoongi looked in your direction for a moment before going back to emptying his briefcase.

Okay so maybe he doesn’t remember you. You felt both a sense of relief, but also a little hurt. He was all you had thought about for years. High school sweethearts who were madly in love until one day they weren’t. Or at least he wasn’t. Yoongi had broken up with you half way through his second year of college. Something about feeling like you weren’t taking life seriously enough and being worried you’d take him down too.

At the time you were incredibly hurt, but looking back now you couldn’t blame him. For years you worked hard to get over him. Dating other guys. Trying to build your social circle. Nothing really helped the hurt though.

It did help a little when you found out that he’d gotten engaged. The thought that he was completely off the market and therefore having no chance of reconciling helped you to move on too. You never did bother to follow up on how to wedding went though. You didn’t want to pry that much into his life. You just hoped he was happy.

Seeing him here was stirring up a lot of feelings and you were worried how you were going to get through this semester. You already weren’t excited about literature to begin with. Yoongi always had a way with words so you weren’t surprised he was teaching this. You on the other hand often struggled to put together coherent sentences. This was going to be rough.

Although the next several weeks of the semester went by easier than you’d thought. You put in a lot of effort to put out good work. Yoongi barely acknowledged you and the few times he did speak to you he treated you like any other student.

You stared down at the paper you had spent days writing. You worked really hard on it, but apparently Yoongi thought otherwise thanks to the big fat red note at the bottom, “Meet me in my office after class. We need to discuss this.” You thought your heart was going to explode out of your chest.

“Alright class, I can tell your brains are pretty mush today so how about we end class early. See you all next week.”, Yoongi chuckled receiving many cheers and thank gods from the class.

Great. Just great. You thought you had another whole hour to prepare. Slowly as if to stall you packed up your belongings and made your way over to his office.

Once there you knocked before poking your head in the room. He motioned for you to take a seat on the couch. He took his glasses off and sat them on his desk before closing the door and joining you on the couch as well. His cologne intoxicating and comforting all at the same time.

“How have you been Y/N? I’ve been wanting to catch up. It’s just been so busy.”, he spoke.

So he did remember you after all. “Good, how are you?”, you asked.

“Good as well.”, he smiled.

Wanting to get out of there before you did something you’d regret you decided to expedite the conversation, “Look about the paper, I tried really hard. I don’t know what happened…”

Yoongi put his hand up to stop you, “Your paper was fine. Sure there were a few changes to be made but nothing major.”

“Oh okay well what is this meeting about then?”, you questioned.

He chuckled to himself, “I guess I just wanted an excuse to have some alone time with you. Do you know how hard it is to see you sitting in my class over and over and not being able to do anything about it?”

You looked at him stunned, “I…I didn’t think you even remembered who I was.”

“Remember who you were? Fuck Y/N, I still remember the way you taste.”, he said before locking his lips onto yours.

It felt incredible to feel his touch again. His soft lips. His strong hands leaving goosebumps as they made their way along your waist. Your whole body tingled with want and desire until you remembered one little detail. Because you are many things some good, some bad, but homewrecker was not one of them.

His lips were still feverishly searching for yours as you pulled away, “What about your wife?”

His face turned to confusion, “Wife? What wife?”

I ran into Jimin several years ago, “He said you were engaged.”

He sighed and nodded in understanding, “I called it off. I couldn’t go through with the wedding.”

“Oh I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. I had realized I was still in love with someone else the whole time anyways.”, he whispered before leaving over you and crashing his lips back onto yours which you now happily received.

There was a knock at the door that stopped you both followed by a woman’s voice, “Mr.Min I have some papers for you to sign.”

“I’ll grab them later Mrs. Kim. I’m with a student right now.”, he replied. His voice faltering towards the end as you undid his belt while before running your hand up his thigh.

After he was sure she’d left he turned his attention back to you, “You’re gonna pay for that.”

“Mmhm we’ll see about that Yoongi.”, you teased.

He smirked, “Yeah we’ll see. And that’s professor to you.”

#bts #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #bts fanfic #bts x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi au #yoongi fluff #bts yoongi #yoongi

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n1ghtfurys · 4 months ago

Text

Cream II

Okay so this is the second part to when you met Keegan at a party? A whole one person asked so I'm going to make this a thing. Also don't hate me I'm gonna do another one...probably.

Part I: Cream

You haven't been able to look him in the eye since the party, most of the time when you see him you walk immediately in the opposite direction. One time, when you were with your friend, you audibly squeaked. She still hasn't let you live that one down. His behaviour hasn't changed at all, not that you've been around him enough to tell but still.

Guys normally go for your friend. She likes to pretend otherwise but you've always got people asking about her and yeah, the free drinks are great but they aren't usually directed at you. Not that you mind, peace and quiet is nice and there are so many guys that are so far up their own asses you're shocked they can still see.

Regardless you've been in hiding, you feel like he's everywhere. Obviously he's around because you live in the same building but you find yourself noticing him more, you think he's been trying to talk to you too. Most of the time he doesn't catch you but every so often it looks like he's gonna, luckily that has yet to happen.

Honestly you're shocked he's been here so long, usually he stays at the base and he's deployed a lot, like more often than not. You've been putting off laundry on the off chance that he happens to be down at the same time as you. Only because it would trap you down there with him and you still haven't gotten over the party. The picture of him on his knees in front of you, his mouth open, is one that lives with you. Comes to the front of your mind at night when you're tossing and turning and usually ends in something you aren't really proud of.

You can't put it off anymore though, you're running out of clothes. You spent all day today wandering around in weirdly tight grey sweats and a frankly, very ugly top with a red dragon on, that you had stolen from an ex. It's a truly interesting look, one that has left you comfortable and uncomfortable. The sweats cling to you in so many places and none of them are great, you don't really like how they sit on your hips or how they somehow flatten your ass but the top is on the bigger side so mostly hides that.

You decide to bite the bullet, another mismatched outfit of ill fitting clothes and pieces stolen from various ex’s is not really how you want your week to look. And you can be quick, in and out. No chances of an awkward encounter that just ends with you retreating to the safety of your room, probably never to leave again.

You have never liked the laundry room. The landlord hasn't bothered painting the walls so there is only water stained concrete and cobwebs for decoration, if you're honest it's dingy and always smells dusty despite the detergent people use on their clothes. It's also always warm down here, you hate that, It's like being wrapped in a warm, damp blanket. The dryers sometimes eat your socks too and at least half of the machines are out of order.

It's not like your building is particularly bad, sure some of the halls have cracked paint and one of the doors into the building is held together with duct tape but it's really not a bad building.

It's empty when you get down though, much to your delight because you don't have to deal with any polite small talk about weather or neighbourhood changes. As much as you like the older citizens in your building they can be quite boring to talk to. Plus it gives you some time to read, the book is truly subpar but it's entertaining and music makes it slightly more bearable. So once you've put the clothes on you perch on one of the machines that don't work and hope nobody else comes in.

Of course your luck is never that good and the door opens pretty much as soon as you settle on the cool metal of the dryer. You don't look up, mostly because if you pretend you haven't noticed them, they can't start a conversation but also if you look up and he's standing there you're going to curl up into a ball and die of embarrassment.

Your plan works perfectly until the mystery person pipes up.

“What you reading?” You know the voice without having to look up, of all the people. It had to be him, you know your luck isn't amazing but you didn't think it was that bad.

This would be your que to curl up and die, only you can't ignore him. It's rude and you don't hate him so you make the decision to look up from your book. You, however, immediately regret your decision to do that because why does he look like that? Part of you wishes he could be on his knees in front of you again but that part of you is clearly unstable and is to be ignored at all costs.

You paint a polite smile over your face, in hopes he can't figure out how many times you've come with his name on your lips. You lift up the book to show him, he doesn't really strike you as the reading type so you have no problem showing him and if you show him the cover he might not ask questions. He nods, you think for a moment he's going to ask what it's about but he doesn't. He actually doesn't say anything else, he just goes about his laundry.

You're not entirely sure how you feel about the fact that he didn't continue the conversation, technically you have no reason for it to bother you. Especially since you didn't want to talk anyway but something about the fact he says nothing annoys you.

You can't help but watch him, hunched over the machine. The black t-shirt he's wearing has no right being that tight, you can see the muscles in his back whenever he moves and you know all he's doing is loading clothes into a washing machine but god his arms.

He must feel your eyes on him because he looks up, you meet his eyes before you avert them quickly back to your book because that was mortifying. Seriously it's just a guy in a black t-shirt and you're basically drooling over him, god you're better than this. You swear you hear him chuckle which serves to both annoy and embarrass you.

The chime of your cycle being over literally cannot come fast enough. You have never unloaded one of those machines faster, you grab what you think is all of your shit and basically run up the stairs because anything is better than being in a room with him in his stupid sexy t-shirt with his dumb muscles and deep voice.

You retreat to the familiar safety of your room for the rest of the day, stress reading your book to get past the awfulness of that encounter.

That is until you hear the front door open, obviously since you have a roommate you think nothing of it until you hear said roommate call you to the door, because today couldn't get any worse. You go to the door, expecting a delivery or a salesman she needs you to get rid of but obviously you're not that lucky because the universe must hate you.

Standing at the door is, of course, Keegan because who else would be at your door? What could he possibly want? He doesn't seem like the type of guy to make fun of people, let alone seek someone out to do so.

You make your way to the door, which is arguably the last place you want to be right now. As you pass your friend she punches you like this is a good thing because you may or may not have told her what happened at the party and she's very, very set on getting you laid. That's not what's going to happen though.

You stand in the doorway and watch as his eyes drift slowly down your body, when he meets your eyes again you can tell that he's smirking, not that you can see his mouth but you know.

“You left everything but your glass slippers, princess.” He holds out the detergents you had taken down there with you.

“Oh” really, you know that you should use more words than that, because you do know more words than that or you think you do. Right now it doesn't matter because you're trying to will your brain to pick between saying thanks and sorry.

“Sonks” clearly you are not stronger willed than your brain. You take the bottles from his, still, outstretched hands while hoping that a you-sized sinkhole would appear beneath you.

“Thanks, and sorry for making you come all the way up here. Bye.” he barely has a chance to answer before you're shutting the door.

You put the detergent on the kitchen counter and then proceed to put your head there too because what the fuck was that? A one way ticket to forever being the one girl that can't even talk. You then start to realise how rude it was to slam the door essentially on his face when he was being nice and then you feel even worse about everything.

Not much you can do about it now anyway so you put the detergents away because this day couldn't get any worse. If you weren't hiding in your room before, you are now. Forever. Unless you're called out by your friend or need to cook so that she doesn't burn down the apartment. You like your room anyway, so big deal, and you can probably get enough sunlight from the windows not to get a vitamin D deficiency and if not there's always supplements.

“Honey!” your best friend and roommate has taken to calling you that, usually when she gets home from work but it's kinda just stuck. “Whose number is on the fabric softener?”

Before you really have time to move, she's bursting into your room, as she does.

“Bet it's his.” she has also already taken your phone which you now regret giving her the password to. Luckily your brain catches up before she sends a message that starts with ‘hey sexy’

You forget for a moment that the world hates you and everything sucks because you in fact don't delete the message, instead you manage to press send, like an idiot but it's fine. Maybe he doesn't use his phone at all, or maybe it fell out of his pocket down a flight of stairs or maybe he broke his neck.

Clearly not because he reads it before you have the good sense to delete it. Clearly, all that can be learnt from today is that luck doesn't exist and everything sucks and you're never gonna end up in bed with this man, ever.

#cod men #cod fluff #cod keegan #keegan p russ #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ #keegan cod #i don't actually know if its fluff

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mostlymarvelsstuff · 2 years ago

Text

Requested by: @romanoffsbish #6 “Are you really so oblivious?” ; WandaNat•Tony says it to R who’s currently “googly” eyeing the couple from across the room with a sad smile, and Tony’s had enough of the dancing around each other nonsense.

Authors note: requests are still closed. I’m trying to clear my inbox before opening them again. Thank you for your patience 💖

Word count: 2898 WandaNat Masterlist Marvel Masterlist

Wanda giggles as Natasha playfully spins her around the kitchen, the ingredients for their pancakes quickly forgotten as the spy initiates an impromptu dance session to the music that plays from the Sokovians phone.

They don’t even notice the attention paid to them by the few of their teammates over at the table. Sam smiles at the scene before returning to his oatmeal and Tony pretends to gag at the display of affection before he sits down with his omelet.

“Let them be Stark” Thor chastises with a mouth full of poptart, “Love is special, and it deserves to be celebrated”

“I know that goldilocks” he retorts with an eyeroll, “Besides, I doubt they even heard my teasing."

Clints brow quirks as he drops his banana peel on the table and his eyes meet yours as you glance up from your plate. You both share a knowing look before smirks spread on both your faces.

“Oh yeah” the archer agrees, “No way the super spy with super senses heard you. Ridiculous notion”

You chuckle at the nervous expression that crosses the billionaires face only to earn a glare from him in turn, “At least I let my feelings be known”

Mistaking his jab at your not so hidden feelings for more teasing you simply toll your eyes and grumble, “Whatever Tony”

“Is he bothering you malysh(baby)?” Wanda voice suddenly rings out through the dining room and Sam has to suppress his laughter at the way Tony's complexion pales slightly

“Oh. Uh, no. No, he's just being his normal, annoying self” you tell her, smiling over where she stands with her girlfriend at the kitchen island.

“Good” Natasha says, her tone sending a chill through both you and Tony but for different reasons, “Otherwise I’d have to punch him”

“I’m right here you know” the man says, waving his fork in the air

“Oh I know. I just don’t care.” she replies, sending a wink your way

You try your best to ignore the warmth that spreads across your cheeks at the action, instead focusing back on the man next to you again. He purses his lips, letting out a small huff in annoyance and you laugh at the Russians ability to get under his skin so easily. You completely miss the way Natasha beams at Wanda for being able to make you produce the sound they both adore so much.

“Y/n?”

You turn to look at the brunette again, “Yeah Wans?”

“Tasha and I were going to go into the city today. Do some shopping, go to lunch, sit in the park for a little bit and maybe get some ice cream. Then we were gonna watch a movie when we got home. Would you like to join us?”

“I’m sorry guys, I have a briefing to attend in like half an hour. I think I’m being sent on an impromptu mission.” you tell them as you stand and walk back to the kitchen with your dirty plate to clean, “I hope the two of you guys have fun though”

“Oh, ok” the witch responds, her shoulders deflating at both the missed opportunity and the distance you’ve created. Truthfully both she and Nat have noticed you being a bit more distant with them lately and it was worrying them, "Maybe next time then"

Though you feel nervous about spending that much alone time with the women you nod, "Yeah next free day I have we can definitely do something"

Natasha doesn't like the knot of discomfort she feels in her gut. She doesn't know what other team members are going with you on this sudden mission but she desperately wishes that she or Wanda was on the chosen team. She feels better when one of them is there to watch over you. What if something happens to you today?

The look her girlfriend gives her indicates she feels the same way about this situation and Nat wishes there was something she could do to change things, but there isn’t. So she settles for doing something that both shows she cares and helps slightly settle her nerves.

“Just be careful out there, ok kotenok(kitten)?”

You smile at her, “Always Nat. I’ll see you guys later.”

The two continue to stand there a few minutes after you leave. The worry for your fate on this mission and the disappointment for your lack of presence in their lives of late might as well shine over their heads like neon signs in Vegas. So Tony decides to do his best to reassure them.

“Try not to worry too much” he says, placing a hand on each woman's shoulder, “T’Challa and I are going with her. Hill will be there too so she's in good hands. I can’t promise no harm will come to her because you know how hectic these things can get, but I can promise that I’ll bring her back in one piece.”

“Thanks Tony. I just wish we could go with her.” Wanda tells him, a sad smile on her face, “We like being able to see that she's safe”

“I know. Which is why I will do my best to stick to her like glue, and have her home in time for your movie”

Nat turns to him with a smirk, “You know, don’t you?”

He chuckles, “You may be a spy, Romanoff but there's no hiding that look. Plus witchy here doesn’t know what it means to have a poker face”

“Hey! I can keep a straight face” she huffs, crossing her arms.

Natasha quirks a brow at her girlfriend, earning a glare that makes her chuckle, “I didn’t even say anything”

“You didn't have to, I heard your thoughts” she replies, making the redhead smirk

“Good luck Romanoff” Tony cuts in, “I’m off to the briefing”

Several hours later the quinjet lands back down at the compound and you and your team tiredly shuffle around, gathering your things as you prepare to disembark and head inside.

“It’s been a long day. Head inside and get some rest everyone. Turn your paperwork into me tomorrow morning and I’ll get it to Fury” Hill states before heading off

T’Challa is the next to move, he has a jet to Wakanda to catch tomorrow afternoon and needs extra rest to get that paperwork done beforehand, “Goodnight Tony, Y/n. Good work today, and if I don’t see you before my flight, it was good to see you”

“Goodnight” you and Tony say in unison before heading inside yourselves.

As the two of you walk through the hall you're stuck by the fact that the tv and light are still on in the living room, something which is unusual for this time of night. You both wordlessly decide to take a peek at what's going on and stop in the doorway.

Over on the sofa, curled up with each other under a blanket sit Natasha and Wanda. A Bond movie plays on the tv and even at your distance you can tell by the way the Russians lips move that she's softly quoting every line. Wanda looks up at her with a fondness before linking one of her hands with Nats and her attention returns to the screen. You smile at their cute interaction, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

A deep ache fills your chest as you watch them, and you sigh. You’d give anything to be able to join them, but you can’t. Not in the way you want to at least. And you’re tired of pretending that you don’t want more with them. You've had to withdraw because only being their friend while they held your heart, it hurt. You know it's nothing personal, nor is it their fault, but you couldn’t continue to do that to yourself. You hope one day, when your heart has righted itself, that they’ll understand. But until then, solitude is best.

“Well” you whisper, “Glad to see Nat still likes Bond. Goodnight Tony”

You go to turn away but his firm hand stops you, “Are you really so oblivious?”

Your brows furrow, “What are you talking about?”

“Kid, it's past midnight and they're in the living room. They have a tv in their room, and you and I both know that's where they always watch their movies.”

You shrug, “Maybe they just wanted a change of scenery”

He exasperatedly runs a hand through his hair, “Christ sake kid, they waited there for you.”

“Huh? Why would they do that?”

He sighs, “Because they miss you, and they didn’t get to spend the day with you, so they at least wanted to be here to greet you once you got home. They wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt.”

“Oh.” you pause, feeling guilty for hurting them with your absence while also feeling grateful for their care, “I better not keep them waiting then. Goodnight Tony”

“Night Y/n” he says, with the hope that finally everyone's confessions would come to light tonight

You slowly approach the couple, feeling guilty you were about to disrupt their movie despite knowing they waited up for you. In the end you don’t need to interrupt them as your movements end up catching the Sokovians attention and her eyes light up.

“Malysh(baby), you're back!”

Nats head quickly turns in your direction, but her smile fades slightly as she notices the dirt and small scrapes that adorn your forearms and face, “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, “No. Just some normal bumps and bruises is all.”

They both frown at your statement and Wanda quickly untangles herself from her girlfriend in order to approach you. Her hand gently trails across a bruise on your cheek before grabbing onto your hand and she looks back to Nat to receive a nod.

“Let's get you cleaned up, ok?” You're too tired to say no so you dumbly nod and follow her to the couples bedroom, with Natasha right behind you.

“Sit down kotenok(kitten)” she instructs, her tone softer than what you're used to

You do as you're told, relaxing into the small sofa in their room as Wanda heads into the bathroom and Natasha rifles through their closet. You unintentionally doze off as you wait and the two women briefly contemplate allowing you a small nap before they decide that you’d be better off and more comfortable once cleaned up and out of your uniform.

“Y/n…Wake up sweet girl” Wanda coos, as she gently shakes you

Your eyes strain to open, “Sorry guys”

“It’s alright. You've had a long day.” Wanda says, sitting down beside you, “Let's get you clean.”

She brings the washcloth up to your face first and Nat smiles as she watches you practically melt at the feeling. The brunette softly scrubs your face, careful to not agitate any of the small scrapes as she rubs the sweat and dirt from your face.

“There we go. I knew your beautiful face was under all that grime”

You blush slightly, and you know with as close as both women are that they've seen it, yet neither tease you for it, “Thanks Wans”

She smiles and nods, “Give me your arm”

You do so, watching with sleepy eyes as she cleans your left forearm before moving onto your right one. Youd been so focused on her movements that you hadn’t realized Nat had momentarily left in order to prepare the bed for them.

“She all clean, detka(baby)?”

Wanda nods, “Yup. Clean and ready for bed.”

You assume that's your queue to leave and shuffle as you prepare to stand but the redhead is quick to stop you, “Woah, easy there. We haven't gotten our Y/n time for what feels like ages, so we’re claiming now while you're too tired to protest. Here, go change”

You look down to see that she's handing you an extra pair of her pajamas and your stomach erupts with butterflies, “Thanks Nat.”

The two share a smile as you head off to their bathroom to change and Nat helps the younger girl off the sofa, “Go ahead and get into bed detka(baby)”

When you emerge from the bathroom you find Wanda suggled into her side of the bed while Nat sits on the edge of her side. The Russian can’t help the smile that spreads across her face, seeing you in her clothes has her heart speeding up in her chest.

“Well, goodnight guys” you tell them, taking a step forward only to be stopped by Nats hands grabbing yours

“Where do you think you're going, pretty girl?”

“I- I uh, the couch?” you stutter out, mentally slapping yourself for becoming so flustered by her words

Wandda frowns as she sits up, you never used to mind sleeping in their bed with them on movie nights, when had that changed? Why are you so distant now?

“Y/n?” she hesitates, “Have Tasha and I upset you?”

“What? No. No, of course not. Everything is fine” you stress, but Nat defeatedly drops your hands as her expression turns sad

“Everythings not fine, Y/n. This is the first time we’ve been able to spend any time alone with you in nearly a month. You've been avoiding us, and it hurts”

“Just please tell us what we did so we can fix it.” Wanda practically begs, “We miss having you around. We miss you.”

“You guys haven’t done anything. I promise.”

“It doesn’t feel that way” the Russian mumbles, and your guilt returns ten fold

“Ok. I probably should have said something sooner, but i didn't know how” you sigh, “I still don’t, but you guys don’t deserve to be left wondering”

You stand there for a moment, nervously picking at your fingers as you try to figure out what words are best to use to explain everything. But your anxiety is getting the better of you, and you can’t blame it. I mean how are you supposed to tell your two best friends, who are a couple, that you love them.

Wandas eyes widened as unbeknownst to you, your thoughts had become incredibly loud. But she doesn’t want you to panic, and your anxiety is already quite high, so she decides to not let it be known that she’d heard you. Instead she gets out of bed and slowly approaches you, grasping your hands with hers once she's close enough.

“Whatever it is Y/n, you can tell us. I promise it’ll be ok” she assures, squeezing your hands for added emphasis.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you think about the prospect of saying the words out loud, but the way Wanda reassures you gives you some courage, “I um, I- I love you both. In a more than friends kind of way.”

“Oh kotenok(kitten)” Natasha coos as you glue your eyes to the floor, and she quickly gets to her feet to join the two of you. She grabs your chin and tilts it up so you're looking at her, “That's something you never had to hide from us. Because we feel the same, don’t we detka(baby)?”

Your eyes widen in disbelief and you look to the other woman for confirmation, “You guys love me?”

“We do, we love you Y/n” Wanda admits, smiling wide

“So very much” Natasha adds, wearing a matching smile of her own and she can wait no longer, “Can we kiss you?”

You eagerly nod and she brings her lips to yours. It's everything you thought it would be, fierce and full of passion and it quickly takes your breath away. As soon as she pulls away from you Wanda replaces her on your lips. Her kiss too is just as you expected, tender and full of love. Once it ends the brunette pulls you into a hug, which Nat joins.

You let out a happy relieved laugh as their arms wrap around your body and you easily sink into them. They can feel just how exhausted you are, so despite the wonderful discovery the three of you have made, they know that their first priority is letting you get your needed rest.

“Come on malysh(baby)” Wanda says, breaking up the group hug, “It’s very late and you need sleep”

“She's right. We can talk more about this tomorrow” Nat adds, ushering you over to the bed

This time you don’t argue, you climb right in and get settled in your spot in the middle of the bed so you can be between the two of them. Wanda happily joins you, snuggling closely as she pulls you against her. Nat smiles as she joins you but instead of snuggling close she leans on her elbow, her other hand cupping your face.

She gives you another kiss, “Love you”

“Love you too Natty” you sleepily mumble, making her heart swell. You then turn to Wanda to let her have a kiss, “Love you Wans”

“Love you too, sweetheart” she whispers, brushing a hand through your hair, “Sleep well”

You end up falling asleep before they even finish pulling the covers up over you. They both scoot closer, each wrapping an arm across your midsection to ensure you remain close.

“Our pretty girl” Nat mumbles as she nuzzles her face against your neck

Wanda does the same on your other side, “All ours”

Taglist: @wandaromamoff69 @when-wolves-howl @danveration @sheneonromanoff @sayah13 @likefirenrain @nighttime-dreaming @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02 @wackymcstupid @lovelyy-moonlight @blackwidow-3 @mistressofinsomnia @that-one-gay-mosquito @yomamagf @yourfavdummy @justarandomreaderxoxo @scoutlp23-blog @whoischanelle15 @lissaaaa145 @eline03 @wizardofstories@imthenatynat @marvelonmymind @fluffyblanketgecko @bitch-616 @dakotastormm @zoomdeathknight

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arduouslove · 2 years ago

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Loving You isn't Hard to Learn 06

genres: hybrid, romance, found family, slow burn(ish) series rating: mature (mentions of/references to death and abuse. eventual smut) chapter warnings (may contain spoilers): mentions of death. accusations of drugging/roofie-ing. descriptions of injury to the face. the reader character cooks meat; if you don't eat meat, please think of it as them just cooking it for other people. relationship(s): ot7 x female reader

In the middle of what many would call nowhere, a sign glows bright yellow. Old, unmaintained, and on its last legs, the letter e flickers for a few seconds before going dark. H aven’s Door Motel, it now reads.

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The floor is cold when you wake up on it, though not as cold as it could be, so you must've been sleeping on the floor for at least a couple hours. As you sit up, you try to get on your knees, but find your legs tangled up in half of a throw blanket. You grumble, touching one hand to the side of your head, where you had to have laid directly on the floor rather than the throw pillow you can see pushed under the coffee table. Okay, you're definitely not telling Hoseok your head kind of hurts. He's already enough of a worrywart. Speaking of...

Looking up at the couch, you see Hoseok's sleeping face smushed against the cushion, his hair ruffled all over and his mouth slightly open. Upon closer inspection, a small wet spot of drool has grown on the couch cushion directly under his mouth. You grimace at that but quickly shake the split second of disgust away. It's just saliva; it'll wash out just fine.

You untangle yourself from the blanket, and when you stand up, you drape it over Hoseok's sleeping form as quietly as you can. Yawning, you head to the kitchen, first filling your kettle and turning it on, then moving to the other side of the counter and unplugging your phone from the wall. As the screen flicks on, you see a missed call from Lee Minhyuk from only a few minutes ago, and a text from him that followed soon after.

It seems I forgot to leave one last thing to you. I found it in our storage this morning. I'll be in my office all day if you'd like to come and pick it up. Otherwise, please let me know by phone call.

As professional as always, this guy. Glancing over at the microwave, you take note that it's only 8:56AM, which isn't that early for someone like him, but still. Lee Minhyuk is punctual, you'll give him that. Well, you suppose if you head out soon, you could get back before ten, depending on what it is Minhyuk forgot to give you. Some paperwork, maybe. He did say before that Mr. Jung had liquidated everything he owned other than the motel... You wonder what it could be.

Not wanting to wake your two house guests up, you stop the kettle before it can beep to signal that it's boiled and pour the hot water over a tea bag in a to-go mug to let it steep while you get changed. You sneak on tip-toes back to your room, and you move your hand as deftly as possible on your bedroom doorknob, focusing on your feet as you step in and close the door behind you. Bee-lining to your dresser, you tug off your pyjamas and pull on some fresh clothes as quietly as you can.

But when you turn around, Jimin is sitting up in your bed and looking at you with a frown.

"Oh my gosh!" You jump and pat a hand over your heart, taking a sharp breath in at the sudden sight of him. He barely reacts, just raising one of his eyebrows at you, his bottom half still snug under the comforter. "How long were you just sitting there?"

Eyes still half closed, Jimin says, "Long enough."

"Oh. Well..." Embarrassment trickles along your veins knowing he watched you trying to quietly sneak in. He looks too tired and uninterested to care about the fact that you changed right in front of him, though. There goes your confidence in your own sex appeal. "...Did you sleep okay?"

"It was fine." His words come out short and curt, and you can't quite pinpoint why, but you get a weird feeling as you try not to narrow your eyes. He flips the covers off himself and swings his legs over the edge of the bed, using his hands at his sides to push himself off and stand. His eyes dart around your room. "Where are my clothes?"

You blink. "Oh. They're in a hamper in the bathroom. I was planning on putting them through the wash and then making something to eat." Of course, stopping by Lee Minhyuk's office threw a tiny wrench in those plans, but still, you weren't expecting this from Jimin as soon as he woke up. Whatever this is.

Just as he tries to exit your bedroom, you move to stand between him and the door, your hand held up. Jimin stops himself before either of you touch, and he frowns slightly when you go, "Whoa, hold on. What's the hurry?"

"I have to go back."

"Go back?" you echo, confusion tinged in your voice, but Jimin doesn't bother. He gently puts a hand on your wrist and moves you out of the way, which you let him do all too easily in your stupor. Go back? To the streets? Blinking and shaking yourself out of it, you turn to follow him into the bathroom, where you watch him find his dirty clothes at the top of the pile in the hamper. "What do you mean?"

Jimin doesn't look at you as he focuses on unbuttoning his pyjama top. "She's looking for me."

Sputtering, you completely miss the fact that Jimin is taking off his clothes right in front of you. "Rayoung?"

Even though he doesn't answer you, the determined look in his eyes tells you you're right. He slips on his old clothes and pushes past you again.

"She is?" You struggle to follow both him and his words, stepping into the main living space after him. "How do you know--"

Jimin whips around, and you almost bump into him, but your feet screech to a halt directly in front of him. He glares at you with those piercing brown eyes. "She loves me," he says.

Your mouth opens and closes like those dogs in kids movies they'd feed peanut butter to so it'd look like they were talking. You can't say what you think, no, that would be too harsh. You can't just say outright that someone who loves him wouldn't leave him to live miserably like he did. But, what can you say? You don't want him to go back to where he was, even if what he thinks of Rayoung is true... not when you have something within likeness of a solution so close to falling in your grasp. You were planning on going to the motel this evening with Hoseok -- and, ideally, Jimin -- to scope out the building better and finally figure out what the hell you're doing.

"Jimin..." You hold yourself back from reaching out to him, knowing that your touch might be the last thing he wants. "At least eat something..."

"I'm not hungry," he tells you, and with the conviction he puts behind the words, you almost believe him.

"C'mon, at least a bite--"

"No!"

Jimin's sudden volume startles you, and your eyes go wide as he pushes both hands against you, causing you both to stumble back a step. You stare at your feet for half a second before looking back up at him, a breath of a laugh tainted with disbelief puffing past your lips. "What--"

"Don't come any closer!" He wraps his arms around his chest and scrunches his eyes shut. "I don't know what was in that fucking tea, but you can't keep me here." His back turns to you. "Rayoung was right. I can't trust anyone."

Completely thrown off, you straighten up slowly, his words settling in your brain. "...Excuse me?"

Jimin says no more, simply standing there in the foyer with his back turned, shielding himself from... you.

Roused from his deep slumber, Hoseok appears next to you. His hair is tousled and pressed flat against the side of his head that he slept on, but the sight isn't as endearing as it would be if you weren't so baffled by what Jimin just said. Taking one step in front of you, Hoseok puts a hand on your arm before you've even realized you went to get closer to Jimin, one hand up and pointed at him.

"You--" Hoseok's firm grip on your arm stops you from getting far, and as he pulls you partway behind him and your shoulder bumps into his back, you lower your voice to a whisper. "You think I drugged you?"

With his head down low, Jimin still refuses to respond. His entire body trembles, fear coursing through him like rapids under his skin. Even you can see it.

But something fogs over your rationality.

"Are you serious right now? I didn't-- I would never--" You try to take a deep breath, but it gets stuck in your throat and only serves to fuel this ugly feeling inside your chest. "You're delusional."

Hoseok hushes out your name, a warning of sorts, or maybe something closer to a plea. You don't hear it past the ringing in your ears.

"And it's not because of anything in my fucking tea," you continue. "No, you know why you're delusional?"

Hesitantly, Jimin turns around half-way, his frowning profile causing that awful roiling in you to flare up.

"Because even though you've been living on the streets for months, starved enough to root through restaurant trash bins, abandoned by the very person who supposedly loves you--" Something flashes across Jimin's eyes, but you have no grasp of what it is. "--you still think she's coming back for you."

No one says anything for a second -- too long, and Hoseok's hand slides down your arm and gently wraps around your wrist. You tug it out of his grasp with a sharp inhale. "So let's just go," you say, walking to where you keep your car keys. The jingle-jangle as you pick up your keys is the only sound in the apartment aside from your footsteps. "I'll take you right now. Near Antonio's, right? She left you around there and that's where you think she'll go looking for you?"

Hoseok softly calls your name again, but you don't hear him. Jimin only follows you with angry eyes.

"I was on my way out anyway," you continue. With your hand already on the doorknob, you slip on your shoes. "So yeah, I have no problem with dropping you off on your own with nowhere to go." You pull the door towards you and step out, eyes still on your feet. "Where you have no sure way of getting food."

Jimin doesn't look at you as he puts on his shoes.

"Where Hybrid Services already know your face--"

Your words choke to a stop when you look down the hall towards the elevators. That damned fluorescent yellow armband you had no business caring about a couple days ago -- two of them -- appear in your sight just a few metres away, directly in front of the apartment-next-door's open entrance, where your neighbour to the right, Anne-Marie, is talking to the two officers.

Without uttering another sound, you push Jimin back inside your apartment as quickly and overtly as you can. Unfortunately, this means you achieve that by shoving your hand in Jimin's face, but your head isn't exactly in the right place to think about hiding-someone-away etiquette.

"Wha--?! Stop--!"

"Shh!" You make frantic eye contact with Hoseok while Jimin glares daggers at you. At this point, you know you can't just go back inside yourself; both the officers and your neighbour have probably seen you already. You keep your voice as quiet as you can, hoping the boys can still hear you with their weird hybrid powers. "Both of you, not a peep. Got it?"

You don't wait for either of them to answer before you grab the doorknob and swing the door shut in their faces. As soon as you look back down the hall, both officers, a man and a woman, and Anne-Marie are looking at you.

"Good morning," you greet with a slight bow, completely unsure of what to do or say next.

Would asking some sort of question be suspicious? Or would trying to walk by and ignoring them be even worse?

Either way, you have to get to the elevator...

Before you have to decide, (or maybe after you already should've, considering the awkward silence,) Anne-Marie waves you over with a slight frown. "Leaving so early today?"

"Ah..." You nod at her with a strained smile as you walk up to her and the officers, making sure to smile and nod at them too in that weird, you're not really part of this conversation but you're standing here so I'll try to include you sort of way. "Yes, I have some errands to run this morning."

Anne-Marie doesn't question you, thank goodness, and just gestures towards the officers. "Well you should hear them out before you go," she says. "Apparently there's a feral hybrid on the loose."

"Feral hybrid?"

You don't have to fake the initial look of concern that appears on your face, but the way you deepen your frown at the flyer one of the officers hands you is definitely for show.

"Yes," he confirms, face stiff and almost bored from repeating the words so many times to all the residents in the building already. "He ran away from a hybrid clinic in the city and was last spotted in this neighbourhood."

Anne-Marie nods along as he speaks and shakes her head when he points out the area the hybrid was spotted last night on a small map included in the flyer. "So close to home..." she mutters, which he ignores.

Continuing after him, the female officer speaks up. "We're doing rounds to make sure everyone living in the area is aware of the risks of a feral hybrid, as well as inform everyone of the proper procedure."

"Which is...?"

"Do not approach," the man tells you as your eyes finally focus in on the two pictures of the feral hybrid, one from the front and another of his profile. In both photos, he's smiling, eyes bright. "It's dangerous for regular citizens to attempt to capture feral hybrids. Leave it to the professionals and call Hybrid Services upon encounter."

He doesn't look so dangerous.

His smile is wide and almost boyish, like someone told him he was posing for a photo op rather than the strange hybrid-version of a mug shot it actually is. He holds up his name placard like it's an award he's proud of. "V," it reads, then a bunch of numbers underneath. His animal ears are perked straight up, and you can't tell what kind of ears they are in the grainy black-and-white pictures, not to mention how small they look compared to Hoseok's. Still, the deepness of his smile, the happiness in his eyes and the scrunch of his nose -- you're not scared at all.

You don't say any of that, though.

"I'll keep an eye out, thank you," you say with a polite smile. "What kind of hybrid is he?"

The two share a look, the female officer grimacing before she turns back to you. "That's unfortunately classified information."

"What? Why? Wouldn't it help us be safer and more prepared if we know what he looks like?" You turn to make eye contact with Anne-Marie, who drinks in your words and nods with a slight frown towards the officers, a finger propped concernedly on her chin.

The man sighs. "As much as I agree with you, these pictures are the only images any of us have to go off of. Even Hybrid Services hasn't been informed of his sub-species. It's private information belonging to the clinic, and legally, we don't need to have it to apprehend the hybrid."

"I see..."

After thanking them again and giving your due goodbyes, you do your best not to turn around and watch the officers as you wait for the elevator. You step into the elevator, and as your finger finds the button for the ground floor, you peak down the hall and let out a breath of relief. The officers seem to have skipped your door because you already spoke to them.

It would probably be suspicious to re-enter your apartment so soon while they're still patrolling your floor, you think. The last thing you need right now is Hybrid Services finding a reason to look into you.

And, maybe, you need a minute to yourself. Just to breathe.

You hadn't meant to snap at Jimin like that, it just... So much doesn't make sense to you. You've barely had Hoseok around for a few days, but you feel as though your friendship is something already. Maybe not something to be proud of, exactly, but it's something.

Jimin... you've known him for even less time, if you could even call that "knowing" him at all. And yet, you felt this strange surge of protectiveness over him.

You really hope that isn't part of the saviour thing Hoseok spoke of before...

Sighing into the empty elevator, you try not to think about the fact that it probably is, and instead focus on what is right in front of you. Your car keys are still in your hand, the shape imprinted into your palm from how hard your nerves had made you grip them between your fingers while you talked to the officers.

You take the coward's route and run away.

Lee Minhyuk's office building isn't that far in terms of distance, but the traffic around it is pure hell. It gives you much too much time alone with only your thoughts. You try to drown them out with whatever is on the radio, but even that can't seem to calm the disquiet within you. The more you think about the things you said, the more regret builds in your gut. What right did you have to say those things to Jimin? Sure, you think it's a fool's dream to believe this Rayoung girl is out there searching for him, but to purposefully shut him down like that? To crush that dream just because you got offended by emotions he was completely valid in feeling? Just because he's been scarred by humans before and you happen to be one? It's not his fault that he thought you might've drugged him, it's a product of--

"Ah, you're here."

Blinking, you realize that your body went on autopilot and walked you up to Lee Minhyuk's office without you knowing, and you watch his back as he goes to sit at his desk.

"Yeah I... got your text," you say dazedly, unsure of anything else you could possibly say in the moment.

"Well, it's good that you came. I wouldn't want you to go without this." Minhyuk holds his hand out, and you step closer to his desk to let him drop whatever the thing he forgot is in your awaiting palm.

A single key stares up at you, attached by a small ring to a simple metal tag.

Silver Meadows Columbarium, it reads.

"Oh."

Moving the key to your fingers, you flip over the tag and read lot C 258 on the back. You'd never heard of Silver Meadows Columbarium before. Never needed to...

"I believe Mr Jung set up his..." Minhyuk pauses as he mulls over his word choice. "...accommodations before he passed."

You can't help but ask, "Just him? No family, or...?"

Your words trail off, both of you knowing that Mr Jung left you as his sole beneficiary. If he had family, he didn't leave them anything. Not even the location of his remains.

Minhyuk shakes his head, and you frown.

"He prepared for his own death all by himself?"

Your concern is met with a small, understanding smile on Minhyuk's face. "Well, he may have done the paperwork himself, but he wasn't alone. He had you."

"But I--" You hardly knew Mr Jung.

"He brought you up more than once," Minhyuk says, making you close your mouth and blink stupidly at him. At your silence, he continues. "He came to my office a few times to sign the papers and whatnot, and he mentioned you every time. Always said you're the only one who laughs at his jokes."

"They're funny!"

Your own response jars you a bit. The last time you said that, you thought Mr Jung was alive.

Minhyuk only smiles again, softly. "He was happy you thought so."

"Did he say that?"

"Not in so many words, but I it wasn't hard to tell. Don't get too caught up in the fact that Jung didn't have blood relatives he wanted to include in his will. Evidently--" He gestures to you. "--he had a family of sorts."

Except that you weren't it. You couldn't be, right?

A seedling plants itself in the forefront of your mind.

A seedling named Hoseok.

That's must be it -- Mr Jung wanted to leave his estate to Hoseok, but couldn't figure out how to, legally. Hybrids probably can't even have bank accounts, much less accept inheritance, which is why Mr Jung defaulted to you. He trusted you to help Hoseok start up Heaven's Door as the legal owner of the land it's built on.

In his letter, he'd said it's that it's you, whatever that means.

You look down at the key in your hand, taking a deep breath in. It might not be the key to Heaven's Door Motel, but you clutch it in your fingers, and as you step out of Lee Minhyuk's office, you make a silent promise to Mr Jung.

You'll get Heaven's Door up and running.

And you'll do a damn good job of it too.

When you return to your apartment, you have a brown paper bag of fresh pastries in your hand and a heavy something in your chest. You tried to figure out what you want to say to the two hybrids in your place on your way home, but it's hard. You feel like all you keep doing is messing up. Now, you even ran off without a word after seeing the Hybrid Services officers, which had to have freaked Hoseok out.

You grimace as you twist the doorknob. Less than an hour ago, you'd resolved yourself to running Heaven's Door with everything you've got, but are you really the right person for the job?

When you enter, you go to call out for Hoseok, but you freeze with your mouth partially open. The guys stand ramrod straight in front of you, Hoseok with a slight smile and Jimin with a hesitant clench of his jaw, arms crossed. You gape at them for a couple seconds until Hoseok frowns at Jimin and jabs his elbow into his side.

"Ow! What the--"

"Don't you have something to say?" Hoseok prompts through his teeth, a harsh grit to the question.

Jimin huffs, his arms shifting in front of his chest, hands holding his own arms a little tighter. He meets your eyes. "I'm--"

"Wait." You hold up a hand to stop him, not missing the confusion that flashes across Hoseok's face. Something like panic reflects in Jimin's eyes when he sneaks a glance at Hoseok, but you don't acknowledge it. "Let's talk." With the hand still holding the paper bag, you gesture towards the couch. "Have a seat. Both of you."

Jimin doesn't move until Hoseok does, following silently while Hoseok watches you out of the corner of his eye as he sits down.

You set the pastries on the kitchen table before making your way to them, stopping in front of the couch and chewing over your thoughts. Jimin regards you with a half-frown, brows knitted in apparent distrust. You can't really blame him.

If your ears were better, you might've heard the slight gasp Hoseok let out when you dropped to your knees, bent down, and pressed your forehead to your hands, which are now flat on the floor. You bow in front of them, let out a breath, and raise your head once you gather your thoughts, putting your hands respectfully on your lap. "I'm sorry," you say. "I fucked up."

Hoseok's ears twitch, dipping, and he scoots forward on the cushion, about to say something, but you don't let him.

"Jimin, I want to apologize for this morning. I had no right to react the way I did." You look at Jimin, but you can't read his face. "It's not your fault if humans have hurt you enough to make you think we're all the same. People can be... horrible. I wish things were different, but... I want you to know that I will never intentionally hurt you--" Your eyes meet Hoseok's. "--either of you. I'm not going to punish you. I'm not going to force or coerce you into anything you don't want to do. I don't want to be the kind of human you're afraid of."

Hoseok shakes his head. "I'm not afraid--"

"I can't promise I won't fuck up again," you say, wincing as you realize you've spoken over him, but when he doesn't speak up again, you continue. "I honestly feel like a walking disaster with how many times I've fucked up, and it's only been a couple days. Sometimes I speak before I think, and I really need to work on that. I'm sorry."

You don't know when you started staring into your lap, but you let out a long breath, and only after that do you slowly look up at the two hybrids. They both wear blank expressions, and it makes you want to shrink back in on yourself. "I just--"

"I lied," Jimin blurts out, and you face him, eyes slightly widening.

"...Lied? About what?"

Sighing, Jimin casts a glance at Hoseok, who nods determinedly. He fidgets with his hands, looking at them rather than meeting your eyes. "I guess, technically, Rayoung isn't looking for me right now," he mumbles. "But she will. As soon as she breaks up with her stupid tool boyfriend."

"Oh." You blink at Jimin. "Well, um... You're welcome to stay with us. Until then, I mean."

Jimin's lips form into a contemplative pout, but he says nothing.

You scratch the back of your neck. Is there a good way to approach this? "We could, um... let her know somehow? That you're with us."

You eye Hoseok, who's hopefully in the same boat for you to be saying we. He wasn't exactly Jimin's biggest fan last night, weird possessiveness over pyjama sets aside. Now, though, you see that even he can tell this Rayoung girl is bad news. Still, Jimin's ties to her seem to run deep, and you know it's nowhere near simple to tell someone a person they love isn't as great as they thought.

Jimin takes a deep breath in, his shoulders scrunching up as his body tenses and relaxes. "Can I... think about it?"

"Of course!" You perk up at the idea of him even considering your offer after the way you snapped this morning, and you point at the brown paper bag on the table. "Do you want to have breakfast while you think?"

While Jimin marks a straight line to the kitchen, Hoseok holds his hand out for you before you even move to get up. You take it, and he uses his other hand to gently grasp your elbow and lift you onto your feet. He doesn't let go right away, instead holding both your hands and whispering, "You shouldn't have gone out alone." He rubs his thumbs over your knuckles. "You're still concussed."

The proximity combined with his concern for you causes heat to stir in your chest. It's uncomfortable and foreign, so you try to force it down, smiling and letting out a chuckle that screams casual. You hope. "I can hold my own. Besides, I think I'm all better; right as rain up here." You pull one of your hands out of his tender hold and curl it into a fist, knocking on your cranium like a door. Except, the impact makes your brain swish around in your skull like gargled fluoride. "Whoa-- shit."

You sway, tipping the direction you knocked your own head into. Hoseok keeps you standing, but he doesn't like it. "You just proved my point."

"Listen--"

"From now on, no going off on your own," he says, and from his tone, there's no point in a rebuttal.

You roll your eyes, and, whoa, does the room always spin when you do that? Still, even wooziness can't stopper your sarcasm. "Protective much?"

"Kind of my job description."

"I thought I was your bodyguard," you tease, and he chuckles, his seriousness evaporating with the sound.

"As if--"

"You're dumb."

You and Hoseok both turn towards the kitchen, where Jimin stands next to the table with a half eaten pastry in his mouth. Ignoring the glare he's under from Hoseok, which you don't notice, he speaks around the pastry. "Only a dumb person would go out on their own in your condition."

Even though you're pretty sure he should be on the same side as Jimin on this, Hoseok sneers at him, the slightest of growls rumbling in his throat.

Jimin holds up a hand, mockingly. "Easy, pup."

"I'm older than you, punk!"

You can't help it; you laugh. Jimin is all over the place, accusing you of atrocities one second and talking to you and Hoseok like you're long-time friends the next. The two hybrids cease their bickering at the sound of your laughter.

"Okay, okay." You take a breath to stop the giggles threatening to break past your lips. "New temporary house rule: no one should go off on their own unless they have to."

Jimin raises a brow. "No one?"

"Ideally." You nod. "Which brings me to the next thing I wanted to talk about. When the Hybrid Services officers were here before, they were telling everyone there's a feral hybrid in the area. The entire neighbourhood is going to be on alert-- I don't know how kindly they'll take to finding any unregistered or, uh, stray hybrids if they run into either of you alone."

Nodding along, Hoseok rubs his chin with his thumb. "Makes sense."

"They know what the hybrid looks like, but we don't know how much they actually care about the picture. Who knows if they'd just nab any male hybrid off the street," you say. "It's probably best to play it safe; at least while we're still in the neighbourhood."

"What do you mean, 'still in the neighbourhood'?" Jimin asks, curious.

You smack your own forehead and ignore the way Hoseok immediately brings his hands up like you're going to knock yourself over any second now. "Right, uh... We're kind of..." Bringing up a hand, you gesture between yourself and Hoseok. "...prospective business owners? Is that--? No, we're, uh...starting up a motel? But, like, for hybrids?"

Hoseok is decidedly unhelpful with explaining what Heaven's Door is meant to be, staying silent and just making a face as you botch it.

"Anyway, it might be safer if we head out there sooner rather than later if the neighbourhood is getting paranoid over stray hybrids. It's outside of the city, and Hybrid Services doesn't do patrols out there. I was thinking to move once I'd figured more shit out, but I didn't think the whole 'feral hybrid' thing would happen today, and I definitely didn't foresee meeting you." Not that anything that's happened to you in the last few days could've been foreseen, either. You smile at Jimin. "But hey, at least you were a pleasant surprise."

"Didn't I threaten to kill you?."

You shrug. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

"And your guard dog attacked me."

"After you attacked her!" Hoseok argues.

Clicking his tongue, Jimin gives his head a nod. "Point taken."

"Anyhow," you continue on. "While you think about what you wanna do, I'd like you to come with us. Of course, you're free to refuse. I still have two-ish weeks of rent paid for this place, so you could stay here, but..." You share a look with Hoseok, then return your eyes to Jimin.

"...I'd be alone?" he finishes for you.

"I guess I'd just feel better if you're with us."

Jimin seems to absorb your words, but he stays silent for a few seconds. He tosses the last bite of the pastry into his mouth, chewing quietly and brushing his hands together to get rid of the leftover crumbs. He takes a breath. "I guess I sort of owe you for the food and the bed I slept in last night... The least I can do is make you feel better."

Your cheeks make way for a beaming smile.

"Just while I think about it."

You school yourself. "Right! Right," you say, clearing your throat of any enthusiasm that might've gotten clogged in there. "Just while you're thinking about it. Nothing's set in stone."

Either Hoseok calls shotgun outside of your hearing range, or Jimin silently sits in the backseat of your car out of some unfounded sense of regularity. He doesn't speak a word as you drive, just watches the world pass by through the side window. You can't really see him in the rear view mirror, and most of your focus is on the road, but there are a few moments where you catch his fingers scratching at his arms before he flexes his hands and stops. You're reminded of the red, bumpy skin you saw on his arms. Now, it's covered by his shirt and jacket, both of which you convinced him to let you wash before you all left your apartment.

"I don't think this is the right way..." Hoseok says, squinting at the street signs as you drive out of the inner city.

"Yeah, uh." You'd looked up the address to Silver Meadows before you left, and it's practically on the other side of the city as Heaven's Door. "There's somewhere I wanted to go first. You know how I left this morning?"

Hoseok nods.

"Well, it wasn't just to throw a tantrum, if that's what you were thinking."

"I thought maybe you were trying to get those Hybrid Services officers to think you were going somewhere, so they'd think no one was in your apartment," Hoseok says, making your eyebrows rise on your forehead.

"Wow, you're pretty intuitive, aren't you?" Your eyes dart to the backseat, but you can't see Jimin's face since he's sitting right behind you. "Were you guys able to hear that whole conversation in the hallway?"

Jimin scoffs, something sarcastic in the simple sound, while Hoseok nods again. "It's weird how even they don't know the species of the feral hybrid," he says. "Without that information, they'd go after any stray hybrid they encounter -- not that they weren't doing that already."

"But they might treat any stray like they're feral and dangerous," you finish the thought process for him, and when you meet his eyes, he sports a grim expression. You roll your shoulders back, sighing. "It's a good enough reason to stay on our toes, but hopefully we won't run into any trouble outside of my neighbourhood..."

And, hopefully, the feral hybrid doesn't get found by anyone less than civil. The cheerful face of that hybrid flashes across your mind, and you wonder about his circumstances. What makes a hybrid go feral, anyway? What made him run away from the hybrid clinic? How much of the information the officers gave you is a stretching of the truth?

"So where did you go?" Hoseok asks when you make another unfamiliar turn.

"Lee Minhyuk texted me -- he was Mr Jung's estate lawyer." You add that in to give Jimin some context, but you're not sure if he's even listening. "He forgot to give me the key for Mr Jung's niche."

Hoseok's brows furrow as he echoes you. "Niche?"

"It's what they call the individual sections in a columbarium," you explain, not too informed yourself, but you know enough. You take Hoseok's silence as him not filling the gaps quite yet. "Mr Jung's urn is being kept in one. Lot C, niche 258, at Silver Meadows Columbarium."

"Oh." Hoseok doesn't exactly slump in his seat, but you see the way his shoulders sag just the slightest. "He was cremated?"

You nod, eyes still on the road. "Yeah... I hadn't thought about it much. I'd assumed his family was dealing with all the..." Breathing out a long exhale through your nose, you try to think of the right words. (And come up with nothing.) "...well, that kind of stuff. But apparently I'm the only one with the key."

"Mr Jung never talked about any family..." Hoseok mumbles.

A road sign ahead reads Silver Meadows, and you slow down to turn into the lot.

"You're not bringing flowers?"

You turn your head at Jimin's sudden question, surprised since he was quiet the whole drive. He meets your eyes.

"You're visiting a grave, and you didn't bring flowers?" he asks, arms crossed.

"Oh." You look downward. "I hadn't thought about that..."

Jimin doesn't say anything, and you've run out of words yourself. Does it make sense to go back to buy some? You think about Mr Jung, and far above wanting to go get flowers for him now, you wish you could've brought him one back then. When he could see it.

You find a parking spot and switch off the engine.

"It's okay," Hoseok says before any of you exit the car. He's not looking at you, though. "We can bring flowers next time."

You watch him step out of the car, and as he does, he pulls his collar out of his pocket and fastens it around his neck, clasping the metal ends together before he shuts the car door behind him. Before you'd left the apartment, you told him to bring it, but you forgot about it during the drive.

"Oh, right. Jimin." You twist in your seat and reach into your bag, finding the red velvet choker you'd stuffed in there earlier. You've never really worn it since someone gave it to you however long ago, and you just hastily grabbed it from your room before you all left the apartment. You hold it out for him. "Wear this for now. It's not technically a collar, but... no one will be looking too closely. I hope."

Jimin frowns, but he takes the choker. "Can't I just stay in the car?"

You don't want to pressure him, but you can't help the grimace that crosses your face. "I feel safer together..."

"Fine," he huffs, bringing his hands up to fasten the choker. "You're lucky this is cute."

By the time you both catch up to Hoseok, he's already found the directions to lot C. He walks silently, and when he finds niche 258, you and Jimin hang a bit back, giving him a moment.

This section of the columbarium is indoors, and the walls and niches seem to be white marble, or made to look like white marble. Whichever it is, it feels a bit... cold.

Mr Jung's niche is empty, save for the black urn inside. Jimin was probably right -- some flowers would at least bring some life to the space.

Hoseok stands in front of the niche, which is embedded in the wall at around the height of his chest. His arms hang limp at his sides. You step up beside him, and you take his hand, gently, bringing it up so you can push the key into his palm.

"I think he meant to give this to you." And everything else, you want to say, but you hold your tongue. That's a lot to put on someone all at once.

You would know.

Hoseok holds his hand in front of him, staring at the key. He looks up at you and meets your eyes with his watery ones. "You think so?"

"Of course I do." You put a hand on Hoseok's shoulder, your thumb rubbing back and forth over his coat. "You said Mr Jung never talked about any family, right? That's because you were his family."

Sniffling, Hoseok bites his bottom lip to stop it from trembling as he breaks eye contact and returns to looking at Mr Jung's niche. "I... I wish he wasn't this far away. He made it so much harder to visit."

"Hey..." Gently, you use your hand on his shoulder to turn Hoseok toward you, then put both your hands on his arms and give him a reassuring squeeze. A tear threatens to roll down his cheek, but you reach up at thumb it away. "I know you probably knew Mr Jung better than I did, but... something in me thinks he'd want to say..." You turn your head to look at the niche, smile, and shake your head. "He's not in there." Bringing a hand up, you softly poke the pad of your pointer finger between Hoseok's eyebrows. "He's in here." You move to his chest and poke at where his heart should be. "And here." Finally, you take both his hands, a bit awkward with the one still holding the key, and hold them between you. "And that's what matters, right?"

Hoseok nods, but his face crumples up, and he tucks it into your neck. You wrap your arms around him just as his embrace you tight. Over his shoulder, you glance at Jimin, who quickly looks away, but you know he was watching. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, suddenly very interested in his worn out shoes.

"But we can still visit, right?" Hoseok mumbles into your skin, bringing your attention back to him.

"Of course. And next time, we'll bring flowers."

As you slide into one of the parking spots in front of Heaven's Door, it occurs to you that this is the first time you're seeing it in the daylight. All of its mediocre glory. The outer walls are a faded yellow, with supporting pillars and railings on the second floor landing which were once white. The doors to the individual rooms are a nice dark green that matches the roofing, but you have to admit they've seen better days. Still, you can feel the potential the old building blooms in your chest.

"Not too bad, hey?" you say to Jimin, who's leaning forward between the driver and passenger seats to peer out the windshield at the place.

He sniffs. "It's no Plaza Hotel."

"You've been?"

"No, I've seen Home Alone 2."

Chuckling, you pull your car key out of the ignition and exit the car. You put your hands on your hips, inhaling a big, exaggerated breath as you take in the motel. Hoseok walks over and stands next to you, arms crossed.

"Well," you say. "It might be a bit of a fixer-upper, but that's nothing a couple of fixer-uppers like us can't handle, right?" You bump your shoulder into Hoseok, who smiles at you and bumps back with his hip. You stumble a bit, but Jimin's hand on your back stops you from swaying too hard. When you take your eyes off your feet, he meets your eyes with a plain expression.

"You guys are disgustingly optimistic."

A hand on his shoulder, you grin. "You just named one of my best traits!"

The move into Heaven's Door is by no means smooth, but you can't say it's not something you expected.

The first thing you notice is the broken window in the convenience store under the motel lobby, which you'd missed that first night in the dark. Hoseok sheepishly admits that he'd had to break in to eat the snack food inside. You don't push it -- that void of time between losing Mr Jung and meeting you isn't a topic you think is worth diving into if it's going to bring Hoseok back to that time. The window won't be cheap, but if you don't put a custom decal on it like the shattered one on the ground, it might not be as expensive.

Secondly, Hoseok leads you and Jimin to the master room you remember Mr Jung mentioning in his letter, and you realize you'd only seen the motel from one side. Behind the lobby, which has a lot of that same forest green as the doors outside, Hoseok shows you the half of the building you had no idea about before. An entire branch extends behind the lobby, about the same length as the front, but instead of the entrances to each room facing outside like the ones you saw before, there are doors mirroring each other on both sides of a hallway. Immediately to the right is the master room, but at the end of the hallway seems to be a common area with couches and coffee tables, and two walls lined with a counter and cabinets. Hoseok tells you it's the same downstairs, except the end of the hall is a kitchen and dining area. It reminds you of a college dorm.

If anyone stayed in the rooms you saw out front, you don't think they'd even notice this half of the building.

The master room is smaller than your apartment, but it has its own half-kitchen and en suite bathroom with a pretty nice shower. Hoseok explains to you that most of Mr Jung's time and focus went into building and upgrading the interior of Heaven's Door, which is why it has its less than shiny exterior.

You can tell Hoseok was staying in the master room up until you... kidnapped(?) him.

"This is probably the nicest room in the motel, huh?" Jimin posits, walking inside with his hands in his pants pockets. He's wearing the clothes he met you in, now washed but no less worn down.

You nod. "Probably. We're a bit far from the city, so it would make sense for the owner to just live here."

"Dibs." Jimin flops down face first into the bed.

Hoseok crosses his arms. "Yah."

As you fail to hide your laughter behind your hand, Jimin squirms in the bed, twisting himself so he lies on his back. He stretches his arms and legs out like a sea star. "Smells too much like dog here, though."

While Hoseok sneers, you say, "Probably because this is Hoseok's room. You and I can take the rooms next door and across the hall."

"Why would I wanna be next door to you?" Jimin closes his eyes and interlocks is fingers behind his head, fully relaxing into the bed.

You let out an affronted scoff. Your hand goes up to your chest, right over your heart even though Jimin can't see it. "Um, my amazing company and charming personality?"

"Pass."

As you and Jimin go through this back-and-forth, you miss the way Hoseok's face fell when you said you'd be in a different room. His disheartened expression goes unnoticed, and when you stand up, proclaiming there's a lot of work to be done, he smiles at you with all the sunshine he can muster.

You're none the wiser.

Aside from the horrors (the mere idea of business management, the building maintenance, the absolute atrocity that is dealing with plumbing, the phone calls, etc, etc,) at least it's fun to print keys. Hoseok apparently never figured the system out because Mr Jung took care of getting it installed, but half an hour on the computer, and you manage to print a key for both yourself and Jimin. He chooses the room across from the master, while you're right next to it.

Hoseok insists on him and Jimin carrying all the food you'd brought inside, but to appease your need to take part, he lets you carry one item for each trip from your car to the common kitchen area. (You find this a little patronizing, but it is admittedly nice to be doted on by them both, even if Jimin's still pretending he doesn't care.)

((He takes a bag you were reaching for, despite already having both his hands full.))

Much of your things are still back at your apartment, but you have time to bring them over. The first day is mostly about getting Hoseok and Jimin out of dodge -- you can worry about your own problems later. You spend the afternoon sitting in the lobby, poring over the paperwork left there and googling motel business 4 dummies like your life depends on it. Hoseok, who'd been cleaning up his room and taking care of the broken glass outside (and inside, unfortunately) the convenience store, forces you to take a break in the form of helping him make dinner.

During dinner, unprompted, Jimin tells you he's still thinking.

It hasn't slipped by you, of course, that Jimin's stay with you is conditional and, lest you hope otherwise, temporary.

But when he says that, staring into his food rather than looking at you, a tiny smile makes it's way onto your face,

"Take all the time you need."

On the third night, you wake up to soft knocks on your door. You have no expectations because your brain is in the process of trying to dissect the dream you'd just been ripped out of, but seeing Hoseok on the other side of your door still isn't something you were prepared for. He's wearing the new, new pyjamas you'd bought for him in a sparse shopping trip you'd all gone on the second day, despite him saying he didn't care that much about Jimin wearing the other ones.

You go to say his name, but he just brings a finger up to his lips in a silent shush, and with his other hand, he gently takes your hand and leads you down the hall into the master room.

Nothing in your body wants to fight it, so you let him bring you right up to the bed. He practically pushes you onto it, but the way he pulls the warm comforter over you defies any ill intent. When he settles in on the other side of the bed, his breath puffs against your cheek. He hasn't really scented you since the day you met Jimin; you've been near each other almost constantly since, so there was really no reason to.

You remember him telling you it's about separation, but also not. He never did tell you more about it.

In your sleep-ridden haze, you shift to your side. Hoseok is on his side too, rather close, and his eyes are closed, but you know he can't have fallen asleep so fast. Gently, you bring a hand to the back of his head, careful, as always, not to touch his dingo ears. You pull him closer ever so slowly. If he resists at all, you'll let go.

Hoseok lets out a shaking breath. He wraps both arms around you and tugs you closer, his face pressing itself against your neck. Eyes still closed, he squeezes you close. It's warm.

That's right, you think.

He’s a strong little pup, but he hates being alone.

How did you manage to forget that?

If Jimin has anything to say about the fact that you've started to retire to the master room at the end of the day, he doesn't vocalize it. Hoseok never brings it up, either. He's hardly touchy during the daytime, keeping his hands to himself, especially in front of Jimin. Yet, when night comes, he pulls you to bed like he's done it his entire life and keeps his arms around you until you fall asleep and wake up to find him all tangled up in the sheets.

Jimin either hasn't noticed, or, as you suspect, he doesn't care.

He'll often say he's "still thinking about it". You're not quite sure how to respond to it every time, so now you just smile and nod, sometimes reminding him that the choice is still his.

One night, you find him in the common area, sitting on a couch and watching a muted cartoon on the tv you'd connected to your Netflix account the day before. The subtitles aren't even on, and when he turns at the sound of your footsteps, you see the red of his eyes, and the shining tracks on his cheeks.

There's still a lot you don't know about Jimin.

Rayoung. Her boyfriend. His red contacts and why he wore them.

"It's freezing in here," is all he says as he wipes his cheeks with his sleeve. "You should get the heating system checked."

You sit down next to him, neither of you looking at each other. "Feels normal to me."

The cartoon isn't one you recognize, but it looks like it could be fun if you knew what anyone was saying.

For a while, you and Jimin say nothing. He sits next to you, and you next to him. At some point, he shifts just the slightest bit closer so your shoulders brush against each other. That's as far as he goes for your body heat.

"Do you get cold easily?" you eventually whisper.

"Mhmm."

"Is that a snake thing?"

Jimin shakes his head, slowly, the late hour finally getting to him. "Some reptile hybrids are like that, some aren't. There aren't many of us, so people don't really know why. At least... that's what he told me."

He. You decide not to dig into that. Jimin will tell you if he wants to.

"Your scales... the skin around them seemed irritated."

"...Itchy..." Jimin's head falls to your shoulder. He doesn't snuggle in, but he rests there. "I had a cream for it..."

"We should buy some," you say.

"It's expensive... You shouldn't buy it if I'm going to leave soon..."

Though his words cause a muted ache in your heart, you don't stew on it. That was always the case.

"You can take it with you."

Jimin doesn't respond, asleep on your shoulder.

You're not sure how much time passes, but later, you hear light, shuffling footsteps behind you, and you turn your head towards the sound, careful not to jostle the slumbering Jimin on your shoulder. Hoseok stands there, eyes half closed but on you nonetheless.

"You left," he mumbles, swaying slightly like he's struggling to stay both awake and upright.

You give him a small smile, lit only by the tv that's still playing that cartoon you don't know the name of. "I didn't go very far."

"Come back to bed?"

Gently, you lift a hand and gesture at Jimin. "Can we bring him back to his, first?"

When you're sent the invoice for the window repair, you realize (not for the first time) this won't be easy.

You didn't think it'd be a walk in the park, of course not, but you've never really had to worry about the cost of running a business before. Now, you look at the numbers, and you just can't wrap your head around how it'll all work. Mr Jung left you a considerable amount, yes, but... will it be enough? You can't imagine the motel is in any high level of traffic area for travellers. There are quite a few campsites around in the surrounding forest, but that's about it. How many customers would it take monthly to support the motel? How much has to or even can be sacrificed before any income is made?

You've already spent so much on keeping you, Hoseok, and Jimin alive and warm for the past week. It's normal, you suppose, but you've never supported two dependants before, and the fact that you're currently unemployed doesn't settle the heavy feeling in your chest at all. You're draining your savings while not making any money in the meantime.

A safe haven for hybrids...

...who can't pay rent.

Maybe Mr Jung was older and more senile than you thought.

You shake your head and rub your hands over your face, resting your elbows on the desk in front of you. First, you gotta apologize to Mr Jung for disrespecting the dead. You might be cynical, but he had a dream. A really good and nice dream. Secondly, you scold yourself for thinking what you did about hybrids. Of course they can't pay rent. They were born into a system that actively discourages their financial (and pretty much every other kind of) autonomy. They can't pay for anything because of humans.

Still, you don't know how long you can keep running Heaven's Door on your inheritance alone. You haven't even opened yet -- how much will it cost to run for a month? Three? A year?

"Do the numbers change if you sigh hard enough?"

You turn in your swivel chair to glare at Jimin, who's sitting in the chair next to you with one leg folded up to his chest, foot propped up on the seat. He doesn't return your gaze, enraptured by the match-three game he's playing on your phone, which he's been going at rather consistently for the past two days. You don't really have a job for him right now, and aside from the tv, he doesn't have much to take up his time. You'd offered to grab the contents of your bookshelf back at home for him, but he'd casually refused, telling you he'd take a look next time you make the trip, but not to go out of your way.

"Maybe they will," you taunt back, which goes just as ignored as your glare. "I better sigh harder to test it out."

You tilt your head, looking at your phone in his hand. "Should I get you guys phones...?" you ask, mostly to yourself.

Jimin's eyes glance up, and he finally acknowledges you. He doesn't need to say it. He does anyway.

"I'm still thinking."

Curling your lips in, you nod, turning back to the computer and hovering your hands over the mouse and keyboard even though you have no plans on what to do with them. "Right. Right..."

Thankfully, Hoseok chooses that awkward moment to walk into the lobby. "You should take a break," he says. "How is your head feeling?"

"It's fine, doc." You roll your eyes, smiling. "Just as fine as I said it was yesterday."

"Have you been taking your meds?"

You shake your head. "The doctor said they're for headaches. They're just painkillers -- the few times my head has hurt, the pain went away by the time I remembered I could take them."

Jimin lowers your phone and gives you a look you can't quite decipher. It's not positive; you know that at least. "You're still getting headaches?"

"Only itty-bitty ones," you try to placate them.

"How long has it been since you fell?"

You almost forgot you lied to Jimin about how you got your concussion. By the looks of Hoseok's guilty expression, though, you're not sure if you regret it. You don't want him to feel responsible, but talking about it -- whether or not Jimin knows -- still seems to remind him of what he did. Where you put the blame doesn't matter to him. He still thinks it's his fault.

"Uhh... a little over a week?" you answer, keeping a careful eye on Hoseok. "Maybe eight or nine days."

Jimin frowns. "That can't be good, right?"

"The doctor said to go back to the hospital if the symptoms last over two weeks." Concern laced in his features, Hoseok crosses his arms.

You nod along. "I'll put the date on my calendar, okay? I'm sure I'll be fine by then."

"You better not play it down when the time comes," Hoseok warns.

"Yes sir," you joke.

Hoseok takes in a sharp breath, shoulders scrunching up for half a second before he forces them to relax. A small huff of a laugh escapes Jimin's nose, and you look at him in confusion, but his eyes are on Hoseok, something playful and teasing in them. Jimin mouths something to Hoseok, which you can't read.

Hoseok grumbles and tightens the arms crossed in front of him. "Shut up."

"No fair," you whine. "You guys already have inside jokes?"

Jimin just laughs harder while Hoseok gives him a death glare and says, "It doesn't count as an inside joke if I don't find it funny."

"Don't worry," Jimin teases through a smirk. "I find it funny enough for the both of us!"

You can't help but smile at the ever-growing amity between the two hybrids, which is admittedly playful in the biting way, but it still makes you happy that they're somewhat getting along.

"We should celebrate," you tell the boys one day.

"Celebrate what?" Jimin questions, hands stuffed in his coat pocket and shoulders scrunched up to his ears.

You'd gone around the back of the motel and found a paved, patio-like area, complete with five wooden picnic tables, propane patio heaters, and an old-looking but (probably) functional barbecue, but Jimin isn't exactly a fan of the cool breeze flowing through the air.

You lift the lid of the barbecue, examining the charred grates of the grill. "Well, I dunno, but it'd be a shame not to use this before it gets too cold out."

"Too late," Jimin mumbles. His lips are hidden behind the front of his coat, which he's ducked half his face into.

Hoseok ignores Jimin, nodding at your idea. "A barbecue night would be nice."

"How are you on the grill?" you ask him.

"I'm better at prepping."

You chuckle. "So basically, not good?"

"Not good," he echoes with a smile.

After sharing some giggles, you look at the barbecue again. "I'm sure I could figure this out."

"I'm going back inside," Jimin tells you both, already walking away.

"C'mon!" you call after him. "It'll be fun!"

Although you're in a different store now, near the edge of the city closer to the motel, the pet/hybrid aisle hosts a pretty similar collection to the store near your apartment. You pull another plain, black collar off the hook on the shelf, which matches the one currently sitting around Hoseok's neck.

He's not paying attention at all, as far as you know, instead hunched over the pushbar of the shopping cart he insisted on pushing for you, poring over the grocery list you'd written on a memo pad for tonight's "celebration".

In your mind, you've started calling it your "new friends party :D", emoticon included, but you haven't worded that out loud to either of the boys. Hoseok would surely laugh at the childishness of the name, even if he'd politely try to stifle it, and you know Jimin would only remind you that his relationship to you and Hoseok is temporary.

Mood killer, you think to Jimin, although it's the hypothetical version of him.

The real Jimin is looking at the array of collars on the shelf like you asked him to, and you step up next to him.

"What do you think?"

Jimin frowns, deep in thought. "They're all ugly."

Okay, maybe not that deep.

"Ouch," you chuckle, fingers toying with the black silk in your hand. "You don't have to wear one all the time -- just while we're in public spaces like this."

Grumbling, Jimin stuffs both his hands in his coat pockets. "In public... that's when I wanna look good."

"Okay, okay." You pat a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe we can find one you like online, or something."

"Doesn't this one work?" Jimin points at his neck, fingers ghosting over the soft velvet of your red choker.

You tilt your head. "I guess... Probably."

The tags for collars have to be bought and customized separately anyway. There's no reason why you wouldn't be able to put Jimin's on your choker, though attaching the tag might not be as simple as the store-bought collars. Manageable, though, you're sure.

"If you're done being picky, we should get going. The frozen meat will be rotten by the time we get to the car," Hoseok says, making Jimin roll his eyes and stick his tongue out at him.

You clap your hands together. "Ooh! We should get ice cream!"

When you bring all the groceries to the counter, you notice that Jimin keeps his head down, avoiding the eyes of the person ringing everything up. This isn't new -- Jimin seems to not like making eye contact with anyone but you or Hoseok.

He'd tossed the red contacts after one of them had an intimate meet and greet with your bedroom floor, but you can tell he doesn't like being without them. It's awful, you think, how long he wore those fake red eyes just because his owner... what, enjoyed the idea of owning a deadly hybrid?

The... exoticism?

You shiver.

On the cusp of winter time, with Jimin in a couple layers, you wouldn't even know he's a hybrid if you weren't paying attention. As far as you know, his only hybrid-defining trait is his scales, and the only ones you can see right now are on his neck. They'd easily go unnoticed to the everyday passerby.

"Your total is--"

The cashier's voice startles you, and all you can do is shake your head when they ask if you have their points reward card.

Before heading back to the motel, you make a quick stop at your apartment, telling the boys that you're just grabbing some more of your clothes and that they can wait in the car. You do grab some clothes, but you also pick up a few of your favourite books. Hopefully the boys will be able to find some entertainment in them. Recently, you discovered a recreation room in the motel, complete with a couple of exercise machines and a pool table. With how preoccupied you are with all this motel business stuff, though, you haven't had the time to play a round of pool or even think about exercising. Maybe the boys have been in there, but it seems like Hoseok is almost always somewhere around you, still weary of your condition.

It's sort of fair, you think. Dizzy spells still hit you sometimes.

Jimin, too, often sticks around somewhere nearby. Maybe it's because he likes scrolling through your phone and doesn't want to just take it and leave whatever room you're in.

Which brings you to the real reason you stopped by your apartment. You walk up to the mailboxes and pull out your key, smiling when you open your locker and find the packages you were expecting.

It's a bit of a pricey expense -- at least, for how you used to budget your life before it flipped on its head -- but you think it's worth the money. A simple phone for each of the boys, a new family plan to save on the phone bills, and a specialty reptilian hybrid eczema cream. You hope it's the right one for Jimin. You haven't seen his irritated skin since that shower due to the chilly weather, but you still catch him scratching his arms over his clothes from time to time.

You're sure if you told Jimin you wanted to buy the cream for him, he would've refused. The phone, too.

"Took you long enough," Jimin says when you dip back into the driver's seat of your car.

You chuckle. "I missed you too, Mochi."

He huffs at the nickname and crosses his arms, then turns his head to stare out the window. You don't see his faint smile.

"It's freezing," Jimin complains through chattering teeth, hands stuffed in his coat pockets and shoulders scrunched up practically to his ears.

You can't hold back a little laugh. "I told you, you could either help me out here with the grill, help Hoseok with prepping everything inside, or run the raw food from the kitchen to out here." Raising an eyebrow at him, you gesture towards your gloved hands and the food you're flipping on the grill with metal tongs. It is chilly out, especially since the sun set, but you're wrapped up in your own jacket, and the fire from the grill is keeping your cheeks warm. It probably feels colder to Jimin, though. "You wanna trade with me?"

He gives you a flat look. "You're kidding."

"Thought so. You wanna trade with Hoseok?"

Cringing, Jimin shakes his head. "I hate touching raw meat."

"Well, there's our answer then," you say. "Was that the last of it?"

He nods, another shiver rippling through him. It's almost endearing how red his cheeks are turning, but you know he really can't stand the cold.

"Okay, go inside and warm up. I should be done cooking everything in ten or fifteen minutes. Bring this plate in--" You point at a foil-wrapped plate of the food you've already cooked. "I can bring the rest inside once I'm finished."

Jimin's eyes widen slightly. "I thought you wanted to eat out here?" He looks at one of the picnic tables.

"Nah." You shrug. "It's way too cold for me, and the food will cool down too fast."

Elated by this news, Jimin smiles and bounces on his feet when he grabs the plate and runs it inside.

"And help Hoseok clean up the kitchen!" you yell out right before the door shuts behind him.

Truthfully, you did want to eat outside for the celebration, but it's more important to you that Jimin is comfortable and happy. After all, he's one of your new friends, and that's the whole point of tonight. You smile at the thought, excited to gift the boys their new cell phones after dinner.

Flipping some of the last pieces of meat on the grill, you hum to yourself. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a hand reach for the plate you have set to the side for the cooked food. It tentatively grabs one of the slices of meat and pulls it off the plate, which you let out a chuckle at.

"What, you couldn't wait a couple more minute--"

You choke to a stop, though, when you look up and see neither Hoseok nor Jimin.

Dark eyes meet yours for less than a moment before swiftly turning downward. The man stumbles back a step, but he freezes in almost the same way you do. Except, instead of his jaw dropping open like yours does, he pauses mid-chew, the frisked meat still in between his teeth.

That's not what makes your breath hitch, though.

Even under the blackened sky, you can see the bruises.

A dark, deep purple sits boldly under is left eye, the surrounding skin a sickening blend of yellow and green that winds up all the way to his brow. His chin sports another bruise in a similar state, like the blows had been a couple days ago and the skin has gone through only the first stages of healing. Although his face is grimy with sweat and dirt, you can see crusted blood just at his hairline before his black hair hides anything else. You can tell his lip was completely busted at some point, marred with dark, dried blood that's been split over and over again and given no chance to heal.

Even his stance looks like he's in pain. Like he's trying to make himself look smaller.

You swallow the shock down, the words not coming out. "I..."

He snaps out of it at the sound of your voice. Both of his hands shoot up, palms flat and facing you. "Sorry-- I'm sorry," he mumbles and winces, like it hurts to speak. His voice is scratchy and rasping.

He backs up further while you try to find something to say, something to do, but before you can do anything, he runs off the patio and disappears into the treeline, a clear limp in his movement.

"Wait!" you call out, but he's gone.

Maybe it was the injuries that made you want to go after him. Maybe it was the way he held himself, like he didn't want to be in his own body. Maybe it was the way his voice trembled, or the fact that he definitely wasn't wearing enough for the temperature outside.

Maybe it was all that combined, but most of all, it was the pointed black ears you saw on top of his head.

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mymoonagedaydream · 2 years ago

Text

Summary: It was amazing, really, how quickly one person managed to turn your dream job into a living nightmare.

Pairing: ParkRanger!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: Language

Author’s Note: I wrote this whole story before realising that it was some twisted RonSwanson!Bucky fantasy I'd cooked up, so if anyone can recommend a good therapist hmu

---

Monday, June 5th. Week 1.

“Oh, what a shame.”

Your eyes flicked up from the pile of paperwork in front of you, dread forming like a rock in your stomach when you saw the pitiful look she was giving you. Her head turned towards the older man sitting beside her and she pointed at something on your file.

“She's got the maintenance cabin in her coverage area.”

“Ah, oh dear.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, hoping they’d just explain to you why that was such an issue so you didn’t have to ask. There was a tense silence as they shuffled some papers around. Eventually, Angela, who was your new supervisor and the woman looking at you like it was her job to let you know that you’re terminally ill, gave a weary sigh and pulled her glasses down her nose.

“Our maintenance manager can be… difficult.” The man scoffed at her delicate wording and received a subtle elbow to the ribs in response. “You’ll be fine, honestly, just don't try to make small talk and don't try to pet his dog. That thing is vicious.”

“Right. So what should I do?”

“Get in there, get his report and get out.”

That sounded easy enough. Even if it wasn’t, this was your dream job, so you weren’t about to let some crusty old man with a nasty temper ruin it for you. Six months of solitude in a tower in the middle of a national park was your idea of bliss and, if all you had to do in return was keep an eye on the canopy for signs of fire, you figured that was a pretty sweet deal. You’d eagerly snap up any opportunity to disconnect from the real world.

The meeting wrapped up and you were handed a sheet which detailed your daily and weekly duties. All you had to do each day was fill out a weather report, check in with basecamp and take a walk through your coverage area to make sure nothing was amiss. Easy. Your weekly list was a little longer, containing things like deep cleaning your tower and checking up on the wildlife, but you skipped past all that to find the point of contention.

Every Friday, collect weekly reports from any staff cabins in your coverage area. Review for urgent issues, gather further information if necessary and send back to basecamp alongside your weekly report.

Oh, that didn't sound too bad at all.

—

Friday, June 9th. Week 1.

The day was finally here.

Unfortunately, despite your initial attempts at optimism, you really had been dreading this, the occasional twangs of anxiety managing to effectively ruin what would otherwise have been an incredibly serene first week on the job. You figured there was a slight chance that Angela had been exaggerating, but you weren’t sure what benefit she’d get from scaring you like that. She didn’t seem like much of a sadist.

With a clipboard gripped in your white-knuckled hand, you reluctantly trudged up to the cabin door and gave two knocks. A bark from inside made you jump backwards before it swung open. The dark entranceway was filled with an imposing body, shoulders almost touching the wood on either side, arms folded across a broad chest.

You couldn’t help but give it a slightly confused look. Was this the dreaded maintenance manager? You’d been expecting a curmudgeonly old grandpa, but this guy couldn’t have been too far into his thirties. You were half-tempted to ask if his dad was in.

Recollecting yourself from the shock, not to mention the skittishness you always felt in the presence of men you found even slightly attractive, you gulped harshly and forced a smile.

“Hi, the new fire lookout. I'm here to collect your weekly report.”

“I don't do those.”

“Oh, right.” You looked down at your clipboard with a frown. “Just, it says here-”

The door slammed shut.

You were stunned into silence for a second, amazed that your first encounter with the national park boogeyman had gone down even worse that you’d expected. With a defeated sigh, you eventually turned away, muttering under your breath.

“Well fuck you, then.”

The porch steps creaked under your feet. Once safely out of earshot, you unclipped the radio from your belt and spun the dial, finding the frequency for basecamp.

“Come in, anybody there?”

Copy.

“Hey, so I just tried to pick up the weekly maintenance report and got a door slammed in my face. Apparently he doesn’t have to do them, I’m guessing that's a lie?”

God damn it, he does this every time, obviously thinks he can intimidate the newbies. Don’t worry, I'll get the supervisor onto him.

“Thanks.”

—

Friday, June 16th. Week 2.

Two weeks. Two whole weeks of your dream job had now been ruined by this asshole over some stupid fucking paperwork. What a waste. You’d been replaying your first encounter over and over in your head, just wishing you’d pushed back a little more or stuck your foot in the door or something, anything to look a bit less fucking pathetic.

Approaching his doorstep, you spotted a piece of paper lying on the porch. A wave of relief hit you. Getting the report and not having to talk to him at all was pretty much the ideal outcome here, maybe you could make this a regular arrangement.

When you reached it, however, you saw that it was just a blank sheet of paper with the word ‘fine’ scribbled in the top corner. For fuck’s sake. You snatched it off the ground and banged hard against the door, holding it up with an incredibly unimpressed expression once he answered.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“I'm new but I'm not an idiot, you can't palm me off with this.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Stop bullshitting me. I know you've done these properly before, so just fucking do it, alright?” You shoved it into his chest before swivelling around and storming away, adding over your shoulder, “I'll be back for it after my rounds.”

You were pissed off for the rest of the day. It wasn’t that you cared about reports being filed in a timely fashion or even about him doing his job properly, in fact you couldn't have cared less about that, you were just concerned that his laziness would reflect badly on you and jeopardise your chances of ever landing one of these jobs again. They weren’t exactly easy to come by.

The sun was beginning to set by the time you got back to his cabin. Again, the paper was waiting for you on the porch and, again, he’d decided to behave like a child. He'd scribbled out his first draft and written underneath ‘mostly fine'. Jackass.

Naturally, you were straight back on the radio with basecamp, but their only advice was to file it anyway and just explain that he was being a pain in the ass once it got picked up on.

So that's exactly what you did.

—

Wednesday, June 21st. Week 3.

The sun was blazing in the clear sky and you were taking your time with your rounds, soaking up the warmth and making the most of your peaceful surroundings. The forest hummed with life and you pulled in the scent of wildflowers, branches cracking under your boots, wispy moss grazing against your knuckles.

About halfway along your trail, however, you noticed an unfamiliar sound in the distance. Something like rhythmic hammering was echoing through the tees. You rarely came across hikers or campers in this area, so you decided to check it out, just to make sure they weren’t causing trouble. Besides, it’d been weeks now since you’d had a pleasant conversation that didn’t crackle through a radio.

Pushing your way through the pines, you eventually reached the cause of the sound. That maintenance asshole was set up in a clearing, fixing up some dilapidated old wooden fencing while his dog sniffed around nearby. Both of them seemed too caught up in their activities to notice you peering through the shrubbery.

You observed him for a second, musing on what a shame it was that someone so visually pleasing was so fucking unbearable to hold a conversation with, and wondering how he’d ended up out here all alone. Maybe he’d just always been a huge dick to people.

The dog was inching closer. You had no idea what breed it was, your mom always had little terriers so you were hopeless when it came to the big types. Was it a husky? A big fluffy one? It looked harmless enough. Still, you figured it was best to skedaddle, slowly backing into the trees.

You thought you’d almost managed to slip away unnoticed when a booming voice made you freeze on the spot.

“You suck at hiding, y’know.”

Shit. How the hell were you going to play this off?

“Sorry,” you emerged from cover and took a few steps towards him, keeping the dog in the corner of your vision, “I wanted to make sure it wasn’t… bears.”

“Bears?”

“Mhmm.”

“With hammers?”

“...mhmm.”

He shook his head, dropped his tool on the ground and leant against the fence, shooting a resentful scowl in your direction. “Thanks for getting me chewed out last week.”

“Anytime.” He scowled harder. “Look, I really don't know what you expected. I’m not taking the fall for your lazy ass.”

“So you bad-mouth me instead?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Can’t you just leave me the hell alone?”

“Trust me, I wish I could.”

It almost looked as though he was about to admit defeat and go back to work, but his eyes were suddenly pulled down towards something beside you. Following his gaze, you flinched dramatically, finding Cujo poised by your hand.

“Don't like dogs?”

“No, I do, I'm just,” it gave your fingers a curious sniff before licking them excitedly, “not used to big ones.”

“They told you she was vicious, right?”

“They might’ve done.”

“She can be,” the corner of his mouth curled menacingly, “when I tell her to be.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So, you tell her to be vicious towards your supervisors?”

He shrugged.

You squatted down and gave her a scratch, laughing when she eagerly began to wag her tail before flopping onto her back, legs in the air and belly exposed. Your eyes moved back up to his. You might have been imagining it but, just for a second, his face seemed to soften slightly. Then you blinked and he was back to looking like he was sucking on a wasp.

“What breed is she?”

“Akita.”

“Sweet. What’s her name?”

“Akita.”

His expression was completely blank.

“You named your Akita, Akita?”

“Mhmm.”

“Right.” You stood back up and brushed the loose hairs off your hands. “Well, I’d better get back to work. I guess I’ll see you Friday.”

“Looking forward to it.”

You ignored that snide comment and ventured back into the trees, desperately wondering why the fuck you weren’t more upset about the prospect of seeing him twice in one week.

—

Saturday, June 24th. Week 3.

Yesterday had been a fucking nightmare. The lookout in charge of the coverage area that bordered yours had spotted smoke on the horizon so it was all hands on deck. You had to rush through miles of unfamiliar forest at six in the morning, only to find an elderly couple stoking a campfire next to their tent. They claimed not to have seen the dozens of bright red signs warning travellers that it was the height of forest fire season. Idiots.

The worst part of the whole ordeal, however, was that all the rushing around and subsequent paperwork didn’t leave you any time to do your weekly duties, meaning you had no choice but to visit the maintenance asshole today. You were sure he'd be thrilled to see you on his day off.

As you walked up to the cabin, you saw him sitting on the porch swing with Akita, intensely focused on something he was doing in his lap. The dog jumped down to approach you as you neared, asshole’s eyes briefly flicking up to acknowledge your presence before returning to his project.

“Hey,” you folded your arms and leant against a beam of wood, “I'm sure you heard the panic over the radios yesterday.”

“Mhmm.”

“I didn’t have time to walk over here, can I just get your paperwork now?”

He huffed, dropped what he was holding onto the seat and stood up. “If you're gonna make me do these things you could at least come get them.”

There were a few seconds of silence. He was obviously trying to provoke you into an argument but you didn’t rise to it, instead just staring him down and waiting.

“So, you gonna go get it for me or…?”

He huffed again, like a toddler having a tantrum, before trudging inside.

Your attention shifted down to the little object lying on the porch swing. Letting your curiosity get the better of you, you tiptoed over and picked it up, turning it around in your hands. It was a small, intricate wooden deer figurine. Jesus, had he carved that by hand? It was beautiful.

The front door clicked back open and it was swiftly snatched out of your grasp.

“You mind?”

“Sorry, it's just really pretty. Did someone teach you?”

“No.”

“You taught yourself?”

“Lots of time to practise shit like that in this job, you'll see,” he sunk back into his seat, “you should find a hobby for the weekends so you can stop bothering me.”

“I think bothering you might be my new hobby.”

He chuckled. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. It was obviously a shock to him too because, as soon as he caught himself, he immediately went stone-faced again. You tried not to make it too obvious how incredibly fucking pleased with yourself you were.

After skimming your eyes down the report to make sure it was done properly, you nodded to him faintly, giving Akita a quick scratch before going on your way. Only when you had your back to him did you allow a wide grin to spread across your face.

—

Tuesday, July 4th. Week 5.

A ferocious knocking at the door of your tower jolted you awake. Half-delirious, you reached an arm out to your nightstand and grabbed your phone, the brightness of the screen almost blinding you. It was 4:27am. What the fuck was going on?

The knocking sounded again, this time even louder and faster. You bolted to your feet and yanked your coat over your pyjamas, convinced that you were going to step outside and see the whole forest engulfed in flame.

The only thing you saw when you opened the door, however, was the maintenance asshole. The dim light above the door was illuminating his face. He looked shaken up, which was strange, because you’d only even seen him look bored with a hint of pissed off.

You rubbed your eyes. “Everything alright?”

“I need your help.”

“With what?”

“Akita. She’s gone.”

“Gone?” If it weren’t for the offensively loud sound of rustling trees and the harsh wind throwing your hair around, you’d have been convinced that this was all some elaborate dream.

“Yeah, she was scratching at the door so I let her out for a piss but she must’a got spooked,” he was tripping over his words, “cause she bolted into the trees too fast for me to catch her.”

“Well, she’s trained, right? So she’ll probably come back on her own?”

“She is but she’s never done this before, what if it was a bear or somethin’?”

You were actually starting to get a little concerned, he seemed about as on edge as someone with no emotions was capable of being. “Okay, sure, I’ll help. Just let me get my boots on.”

He stared you down intently as you rushed to get your laces tied. The two of you descended the tower stairs and headed into the forest, both calling her name, torches desperately searching through the darkness for any signs of life. Half an hour passed with no luck.

You stopped walking and pointed the torch towards him. “Should we split up? Cover more ground?”

“Nah.”

“Well, what’s the point in two of us being here, then? You could’ve done this on your own.”

“Just in case there is a bear.” You gave him a confused look. “I reckon I could run faster than you.”

He kept walking. It took you a second to process, but, had he just made a joke? You wouldn’t put it past him to actually throw you to the bears, if anything you’d be expecting it, but his tone was definitely lighter than usual.

So he did have a sense of humour, then. How interesting.

“You comin’?”

You had to jog to catch up with him. “Seriously, why am I here?”

“Cause she likes you, I figured two familiar voices was better than one.”

“You’re really worried, huh?”

He didn’t answer, instead just marching ahead and continuing to call her name. This carried on for what felt like hours, the sun slowly rising, thankfully lighting up the landscape. Eventually, you came across a small stream trickling over some rocks. There, having a leisurely drink, was Akita.

He rushed over, looking absolutely overjoyed. You couldn’t help but smile at the reunion. It was nice, seeing him showing emotion, almost like he was actually human. He could obviously be pretty sweet when he wanted to be.

He clipped a lead from his pocket onto her collar and looked over to you. “Thanks.”

“No worries, I’ll leave you two alone.”

“You want us to walk you back?”

“It’s ok, I know the way,” you gave him a smile, “I’ll see you on Friday.”

“See you then.”

You wandered away from the happy couple.

By this point, you were wide awake and already halfway through your coverage area, so you figured you might as well just finish up your rounds before heading back. Besides, you could use a solitary walk to clear your head a little.

You made sure to keep a keen eye out for any big scary mammals but saw nothing, finishing up and walking back just before midday. You’d already planned out your entire quiet, cosy evening in your head.

Climbing up to your tower, you noticed something sitting at the top of the stairs. A small wicker basket. Cautiously, you peered inside, your stomach fluttering slightly when you saw that it was holding a small bottle of whiskey and a carved wooden bear figurine. It was even more beautiful than the deer he’d been working on last week.

You didn’t really drink whiskey, but you appreciated the gesture, figuring it was probably the only other giftable thing he had to hand. Picking it up and taking it inside, you noticed a small folded note underneath the bottle. It read:

Thanks again for the help. Bucky.

Was that his name? Jesus, you’d never even asked. Well, at least you could stop calling him asshole now.

—

Friday, July 7th. Week 5.

You decided to head over to the cabin a little later than usual. You were risking facing his wrath again but, bottle of whiskey in hand, you were actually feeling bold. The sun was setting behind the mountains by the time you reached his porch.

He answered the door with slightly less resentment on his face than usual. “Thought you weren’t gonna show up again.”

“Sorry, it’s been a busy day.”

That was a lie, you’d spent three hours this afternoon trying to get a hot sauce stain out of your sweatpants. He eyed the whiskey.

“Oh, yeah, I really appreciate it, but I thought maybe we could share.” You held it out to him. “I’m guessing you don’t get to replenish your stock too often, didn’t want to deprive you.”

He hesitated for an offensively long time before taking it from you, stepping aside and gesturing for you to enter. You figured there was probably a fifty-fifty chance of you ever leaving here alive.

The inside of the cabin was pretty much as you expected, with exclusively wooden furniture, a couple of guns propped up against the wall and the faint smell of cigars hanging in the air. It was also pretty messy but, from your experience, that was typical of single male accommodation. The only thing that did throw you off was the lack of taxidermied animal heads hanging above the mantelpiece. Maybe that would be his next hobby.

You heard the whiskey pop open and the clink of glasses as he reached them out of a tall cabinet.

“Nice place.”

“Thanks. I don’t have guests very often.”

You glanced over to a pile of screwed-up clothes on the couch. “You don’t say?”

He took the hint, clearing them before inviting you to sit down. The two of you drank and made small talk for a while. It was pretty nice. He definitely enjoyed his liquor, though, cause you were only on your second glass by the time he’d finished off the rest of the bottle.

It hadn’t been your intention to take advantage of his tipsiness this evening, but you couldn’t help probing a little now he was nice and loosened up.

“So, how’d you end up with Akita?”

He glanced down to the dog whose head was resting on your lap, eyes closed as you softly stroked her head. “She’s a service dog.”

“Really? I had no idea.”

“Yeah, I got her when I left the army. I’m not great in crowded places anymore but I didn’t feel like being all alone out here. She helps me out.”

“That’s nice,” you ran one of her ears between your fingers, “I see why the two of you are so close now.”

He waited a few seconds, watching you with a vague hint of warmth dawning on his face before speaking again. “How’d you end up out here?”

“Nothing interesting, I’m afraid. I just like the peace.” He scoffed. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, go on.”

“S’just…” he looked embarrassed, “it was a helluva lot more peaceful for me here before you showed up.”

“I’ll bet it was. Shame you can’t intimidate me into leaving you alone.”

He chuckled. “Well, as far as pains in my ass go, I guess you’re not so bad.”

“Is that the nicest thing you’ve ever said to another person?”

“I think so.”

He smiled, you were pretty sure for the first time ever. Not bad at all. You looked down at your empty glass then across to the other side of the room, quickly realising that the whiskey had hit you like a train, and that it was probably time for you to go to bed. You had a habit of embarrassing yourself after too many drinks.

“I should get back, it's pretty late.”

“I’ll walk you.” You shook your head firmly but he didn’t back down, adding while pulling on his coat, “I don’t want you gettin’ lost or mauled by a bear.”

“Damn, you’re so much nicer when you’re drunk.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Despite your protests, he did end up accompanying you on the moonlit stroll back to your tower, the fresh forest air swiftly sobering you up while Bucky’s knuckles occasionally grazed against yours. He even insisted on walking you to the top of the stairs, pausing as you rooted around in your pocket for the keys.

“Well, goodnight,” you pushed the door open, stepping inside and turning back around to face him, “I weirdly had a really nice evening.”

“Charming.”

You expected him to just walk away after that, cause he wasn’t exactly one for niceties, but he stayed where he was. The atmosphere between you suddenly changed, the look that settled on his face sending an electric chill down your neck and along both of your arms. He took a step towards you. What the fuck was happening?

Your answer came swiftly and suddenly as he dropped his head and firmly pressed his mouth against yours, hands perching themselves slightly awkwardly on your shoulders. He’d obviously not done this for a while. You just stayed still, frozen with shock. It was nice, it really was, but fucking hell were you confused.

He pulled away, his face immediately dropping when he saw yours all scrunched up.

“Shit, did you not want-”

“No, it’s not that, I just… well to be honest I thought you hated me.”

“Oh, yeah. I kinda did,” he shrugged slightly, “but I don’t anymore.”

“How romantic.”

Chuckling at his frankness, you took hold of his hands and manoeuvred them downwards, placing them in a less wooden position on your hips. He nodded, looking as though he was taking mental notes.

“It’s been a while.”

“I’d never have guessed.”

You got another smile from him before he moved in again, softer this time, while you reciprocated by cupping his rough face between your hands. The good news was that he was obviously a fast learner, but the bad news was that he was apparently too much of a gentleman to try and push things any further, so he pulled away after just a few seconds and took a step back. Considerate asshole.

He scratched the back of his head. “I’m gonna be away for a few days, there’s a big job on the other side of the park, but I’ll be back next Friday.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

“Sounds good.”

He flashed a warm grin before disappearing down the stairs. You pinched yourself.

—

Tuesday, July 11th. Week 6.

You’d only just finished frantically tidying up when a knock sounded on your door. You really appreciated your supervisor taking the time to check up on you but, Jesus, she could’ve given you more than half an hour's notice.

“Hey, Angela,” you tried to hide how out of breath you were as you invited her in, “nice to see you.”

“Yes, you too. How have you been getting on?”

“All good, thanks. No complaints.”

“Really?” She planted herself down on the chair you’d set out and opened up the comically oversized file from under her arm, “because I hear you’ve been having some trouble with our maintenance manager.”

That was an understatement.

“Oh, yeah, a bit. But it’s all sorted now.”

She sighed and looked gravely towards you over the top of her glasses. “Look, I won’t beat around the bush, I’m here to collect evidence to support my argument for his termination.”

“You’re- his- what?”

“I need to take a statement from you about his behaviour.”

“You want to get rid of him?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“Are you serious? You said yourself he’s impossible to work with.” She looked down and started reeling off the notes she’d already made in the file. “He doesn’t do his paperwork, he’s rude, he’s aggressive, he sets his dog on people.”

All good points.

“He’s good at his job though, right?”

“I’m afraid that just isn’t enough to cut it anymore.” She clicked her pen and poised it above the paper. “So, can you help me out?”

—

Friday, July 14th. Week 6.

You raced over to Bucky’s cabin at the crack of dawn, more eager to speak with him than you ever had been before. It was strange, if Angela had come to you asking for help just a couple of weeks ago, you probably would’ve obliged. Now, the prospect of working in the park for the next four and a half months without him actually felt pretty bleak.

You arrived at the cabin, he wasn’t there. Maybe you’d been a little overeager. Taking a seat on his porch step, you watched the birds fluttering in and out of the trees for what felt like hours before you heard his truck approaching. Your legs immediately sprung into action and launched you towards it. He pulled up, smiling at you through the windscreen. You yanked the door open.

“We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“Lots of stuff.”

“Can I unpack first?”

“No.”

“Are you alright?”

“Just, come on.”

You dragged him out of the car and into the cabin, noticing that the place looked much tidier than it did on your last visit. When did he have time to do that? He’d been away since Saturday, did he do a big clean after getting back from your tower last Friday night? Weird.

He dropped his bag by the door and Akita ran in behind the two of you, settling herself on the couch. He leaned against the wall as you paced around nervously.

“So what’s up?”

“Angela’s trying to get you fired.”

“Again?”

“I’m serious, Buck. She’s got this huge file full of evidence and statements against you, she wanted one from me too.”

“Did you give her one?”

“Yeah, obviously.”

“Really?”

“No, you dick.” You stopped in front of him, giving him a stern glare. “Look, you have to sort your shit out. She really wants you gone, you can’t give her any more ammunition.”

“What can I do?”

“File your paperwork, for a start. I can help with that.”

“Alright.” He pushed himself off the wall and gestured for you to follow, marching towards a closed door at the back of the cabin, but pausing and spinning back around just before reaching it. “Thanks, by the way.”

“It’s fine, I do so much paperwork now it’s basically second nature.”

“No, I meant thanks for warning me. I wouldn’t have blamed you for just letting me get fired.”

“Well, as far as pains in my ass go, I guess you’re not so bad.”

He smiled affectionately and you reciprocated, but all the joy immediately melted from your face when he opened the mysterious door to reveal piles and piles of unorganised papers stacked precariously on a rickety wooden desk. You shot him daggers, he just shrugged.

It took hours to get things in order, a total of twelve bulging envelopes of paperwork going back months eventually getting assembled. You also, somehow, managed to convince him to go and drop them off at basecamp in person, apologising to Angela in the process. You dreaded to think of the speech he’d come up with but you just hoped to god that it was better than nothing at all.

It was a nervous wait in the cabin with Akita. She could obviously tell you were stressed, because she kept pawing at your leg and forcing her head onto your lap, each time managing to pull you out of your anxiety spiral. She was good.

He reappeared through the door just over an hour later, the look on his face telling you it was good news. You shot to your feet.

“Well?”

“She’s agreed to give me a second chance.”

“Oh thank fuck for that,” you let out a relieved chuckle, “for a second there I thought you were gonna abandon me.”

“Not a chance.”

He rushed towards you, an excited yelp escaping from your lips as he grabbed hold of your waist and let the two of you fall onto the couch. Akita bolted and just about avoided a firm crushing. His mouth connected to yours, your bodies shuffling around until they found a comfortable position in such a compact area. His head moved downwards, stubble grazing across your jaw, lips starting to plant kisses against your neck and collarbone. Your eyes briefly fluttered closed but, when they opened again, you found yourself nose to nose with an incredibly confused looking hound.

“Uh, Buck?”

“What?” His voice was muffled against your skin.

“Does the dog usually watch or…?”

His head shot up, face contorting into a puzzled expression. “I don’t know, this is new territory for me.”

The two of you looked from her, to each other, and then back to her.

“Maybe let her outside.”

“Yeah.”

—

Friday, October 13th. Week 19.

You couldn’t believe how quickly the last few months had gone. Now you were getting close to the end of your time in the park, you were dreading it being over even more than you’d expected.

This job really hadn’t played out at all as you’d expected, but you could honestly say that you wouldn’t trade the time you’d spent with Bucky for anything. You were just nervous about what would come next. The park wouldn’t need fire lookouts until next summer and it was basically impossible to secure any other job there during the winter months. You couldn’t bear the thought of having to travel miles every time you wanted to see him, the walk from the tower was long enough.

What you didn’t know, however, was that he’d been thinking about it too.

When you went to collect his report, just like every Friday, and he invited you in, just like every Friday, there was something new in the living room. A set of beautiful, carved wooden shelves.

“Oh, wow,” you walked over and ran your fingertips across the smooth grain, “did you make these?”

“Yeah, took me weeks.”

“They’re beautiful. What are they for?”

He walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, lowering his mouth to your ear. “Well, I thought maybe you could help me with that.”

“How?”

“I spend ages makin’ them, but I don’t have enough stuff to fill ‘em. Was wondering if you’d want to put all your stuff here.”

“Why would I-” Your heart jumped and you spun round in his grasp, eyes widening as they met his. “Are you serious?”

“Mhmm. It’ll be nice having someone to talk to who can actually talk back.”

You glanced over to Akita, laughing as her ears pinned back as if she knew she’d just been slandered. “Just wait a few weeks and you’ll be begging to go back to barking.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I am right, but that’s too bad, cause you’re stuck with me now.”

“Sounds good to me.”

—

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