#so anyway I’m giving it 1-3 months an carefully watching myself and so far so good

[goldkirk]

.

[lubdubsworld]

物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.)

Characters : Alpha! Jungkook x Omega ! OC.

Genre : Arranged Marriage / Temporary contractual Marriage.

Warnings : Non- Con/ Extremely Dubious Consent . High functioning alcoholism. Genre related consent issues. Implied suicidal thoughts.

Summary : A recently widowed Jungkook agrees to a contract marriage to keep his company afloat. His grief overwhelms him and it is hard to look at his new wife as anything other than an intruder .

[  Author’s Note :  物の哀れ ~ Mono no aware can be translated as ‘the sadness of things’. It comes from the words 物 (mono – thing) and 哀れ (aware – poignancy or pathos). The ‘sadness’ in question comes from an awareness of the transience of things, as taught by Zen Buddhism. When we view something exceptionally beautiful, we might feel sad because we know it won’t stay so beautiful forever – but appreciation only heightens the pleasure we take in the beautiful thing in that moment. ]

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3

“Yoongi left a bunch of painkillers for you. He said you can take up to three per day.” Jin said calmly , carefully slipping the sleeves of my t shirt over my wrist as i held my arms out for him. He slipped the shirt over my head gently but his arms hit my shoulders, jostling me.   I swallowed the whimper of pain that shot through me at the movement. Mina was now awake, happily wiggling around on her rocker. 

It was a little past seven in the evening and Jungkook wasn’t due to arrive for another hour . 

“I could sleep on a bed of rusty nails right now. I’m so tired and i don’t know why. “ I whispered, staying still as he carefully drew the fabric down over my ribs, before stepping back. 

“I’ll sleep in the nursery with her. You should take the bed. You’re in no shape to be up and taking care of her when she wakes up. Jungkook’s asked me to stay here during the day because I’m not going to be performing for a couple months anyway and I’ve been losing my mind, rattling around that huge ass mansion all by myself. ” 

The phone rang, startling both of us. 

I groaned before moving to get up but Jin oppa held a hand up.

“Stay in bed. I’ll go see who it is.” 

I watched him disappear out of the room, settling back against the pillows and reaching for the ice pack in the small cooler by the bed. I had to ice my ribs every hour or so and while it didn’t seem to be helping much, I definitely appreciated the temporary numbness it offered. 

Jungkook’s guilt had driven a new wedge between us and he hadn’t so much as looked at me in three days. 

I wasn’t sure entirely if this was a good or bad thing. The fact that he seemed to be considering that he had to get his emotions under control to stop hurting the people around him was a welcome change. But the idea of going back to being ignored and treated like furniture , wasn’t really all that appealing. 

“Jungkook’s parents are on the way.” Jin’s voice broke through my reverie and i jumped. 

I resisted the urge to sob out loud . 

Mr and Mrs. Jeon were on the opposite side of the grief spectrum and just as annoying. 

Where Sooah’s parents were intent on making Jungkook remember their daughter as often as possible, Jungkook’s parents were intent on making him forget her. 

The only thing the two of them had in common was a burning hatred for me. 

Jungkook’s parents had wanted him to quit the company and sell it when it went into loss but Jungkook had categorically refused because that would result in all of his employees getting laid off, and back then Jungkook had been nothing if not ridiculously compassionate. Jungkook’s parents firmly believed that if it hadn’t been for me, their son would be back in Busan, letting them raise their granddaughter. 

“Great, that’s great. Did you tell them their son is not around?” I grimaced. I’d only met them three times in total and the last time was in the hospital two months ago when Jungkook had crashed in the middle of a board meeting, weeks of starving and dehydration catching up to him. It hadn’t been a pleasant experience, getting cursed out in front of the doctors and nurses and it probably won’t be any fun in the privacy of my home either. 

Jin gave me a sympathetic smile. 

“He’s already told them he’s on the way. I’m going to take Mina out on a walk. Give you guys some privacy. Shoot me a text when they leave.” he said gently. 

“Can’t I come with?” I begged and he laughed. 

“That would be a bad idea, even if it weren’t for the cracked rib. Just relax. Smile and nod and let them spew whatever nonsense they want and then they’ll leave. ” 

I opened my mouth to tell him how many flaws there were in his plan when the doorbell rang. 

“And that’s my cue. Text me, yeah?” Jin moved to pick Mina up from the rocker before reaching for the baby carrier on the table. 

I debated the pros and cons of staying in bed and finally decided against it, gently throwing my legs off the edge and raising myself up to a sitting position. I heard vague voices by the front door, Jin’s sweet tones mingling with Jungkook’s slightly gruffer ones. 

I heard the door close and the stillness of the apartment was as oppressing as ever. I could hear him quite clearly though. The clink of the keys as they hit the bowl, the small click of the door as he locked it. 

i could imagine him, exhausted from the day’s work, briefcase held in one hand while the other tugged on the knot of his tie. 

I imagined for a second, what it must have been like for him with Sooah. She was a bright , incredibly cheerful person. Everyone kind of faded into the background when she was around. Sooah had always been the first to smile at a stranger, the first to laugh even if the joke wasn’t funny. The first one to stand up to help someone in need. 

I swallowed, clutching the sheets to ground myself. 

I guessed that she must’ve always rushed to greet him at the door. I could imagine him wrapping both arms around her waist, drawing her into a hug or even a kiss. 

 How was your day, Kookie?  (I’d heard her call him that, once when they had been at my father’s house for a charity dinner. )

I wondered if perhaps the very sight of her would have taken away all of the day’s exhaustion from him. Perhaps, he would forget all the ways his company had been failing back then at the sight of her beautiful laughing face. Perhaps losing his company hadn’t been as terrifying as losing his job.  

And perhaps once he lost her, he just couldn’t bear the thought of losing his life’s work too. And so he’d agreed to meet my father’s demands. 

My fingers began trembling a bit .

I could imagine her moving around the house, pregnant and glowing, laughing as he nuzzled into the curve of her belly. Had he perhaps pressed his lips to her skin, whispered sweet endearments to his daughter through the fabric of his wife’s clothes? Had he perhaps loved Mina, deeply? WAs it just his grief that made it hard to be near his wife. Or was it perhaps me? Me holding the baby that should have been in his beautiful wife’s arms. 

The wife he had been so madly, deeply in love with. 

Love, I thought vacantly.

It wasn’t something I had ever felt, for anyone until I’d began caring for Mina.

But what Jungkook had with his wife was something different wasn’t it? 

The love a man had for a woman. Laced with desire, longing and passion. A love that made you put their happiness over your own.  

Love like that had never been in the cards for me. 

Ever

I was an Omega. Rare and hated and known for being selfish and greedy. People didn’t love my kind. They avoided me. They always assumed I would take advantage of them. My peers growing up had treated me with so much contempt. 

 The girls would whisper how I was trying to seduce their boyfriends. The boys would call me a tease, even when I stayed far away and did nothing to attract their attention. I’d gotten used to it. It didn’t bother me. it was the way of the world for me. Ad it wasn’t like I could honestly deny some of it. 

I looked at handsome alphas and wanted them. I wanted to be held and cherished. To be bought pretty things and cared for. It had taken decades for me to beat that part of mine into submission. To remind myself that if I ever let that part of me out, it would destroy me. 

But love? Being in love with someone? 

I didn’t know what that could have been like for Jungkook. 

Or maybe I had but I couldn’t recognize it because I’d never received it myself. Whatever the cause, it was for me, a fairytale. It was hard to imagine people loving each other so much, to the extent that they would die for each other. ( Jungkook’s words still hung in the back of my mind : that he had wanted to follow her even in death ) 

Jungkook was right.

I could never know what his loss was like. 

Because I would never know what he had lost. 

It felt a little like being dipped in an ice cold lake in the middle of winter. My skin broke out in shivers, hair standing on end and I felt my throat go dry so swiftly. I’d never wanted to run away so much. I wrapped a hand sound myself, scooting back on the bed again. I reached for the blanket, wanting to pull it over my head and curl into a ball. 

Shut out the world and all the things that didn’t make sense. 

“Are you alright?” Jungkook’s voice broke through the haze in my head and I swallowed. He had an alpha’s voice and my body responded even if my mind resisted. It didn’t happen all the time. Jungkook couldn’t control me. But sometimes when I was feeling vulnerable, instincts took over . I was already dropping the blanket and smiling softly.

“Mina’s out for a walk.” I croaked out, surprised at how awful my voice sounded. 

I felt the press of something against my fingers and I blinked, staring at the glass of water Jungkook was pressing into my hand.

“Don’t worry, I called them and told them not to come over.” He said quietly , watching me drink with still trembling fingers. 

I swallowed and stared at him. 

“I... Thank you. “ I said fervently, feeling a few knots come undone in my gut. I couldn’t really stand up to Jungkook’s parents the way I did with Sooah’s parents. Because Jungkook loved them deeply and hurting them would be the same as hurting him. 

“There’s a party in a couple of days. It’s my birthday. I’m turning 34.  Yugyeom’s organizing the whole thing, so I’m going to hire a babysitter for Mina, because Jin hyung will be there too and you need help caring for her anyway. You can stay home and rest. ” he said . 

I scoffed. 

“I’m going to come with you.” I said firmly. 

Jungkook frowned. 

“What?” 

I glared at him. 

“I’m not letting you go to a party organized by your shit for brains friend, Jungkook. You’ll probably end up getting drunk out of your mind and killing someone and I’m not going to hang around to clean that up. I’m coming to that party and I’m making sure you don’t have more than one drink.  “

Jungkook’s frown deepened into a scowl. 

Did you ever look at your wife , like this? With so much loathing? I thought stupidly. Or did she only ever get to see the sweet and wonderful side of you? Did she ever annoy you the way i seem to every second of the damn day ? Did you hate certain things about her too? Or was she so perfect that you could only feel love ? 

“ I can take care of myself. Its my birthday , I can do whatever the fuck I want.“ He snapped. 

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. 

“Not unless you’re a five year old kid in the sandpit, which you’re not. You’re an adult and when you make stupid decisions as an adult, very real people end up paying for it. You’re old enough to know this Jungkook and for once, just listen to me. You can drink, fine. But I’m going to be there and if I see that you’re getting drunk, I’m going to bring you home. You either agree or I’m going to call Yoongi oppa .” 

That made him pause. 

“Fine. Fuck you.” He snapped, turning on his heel and stalking out of the room. A few seconds later I heard the door to the shower slam shut.  

 I wanted to follow him and shake some sense into him but before I could decide if it was worth jostling my body, when another sharp pain lanced through my ribs.

Oh great. 

I took deep breaths the way Yoongi had taught me. Apparently, pneumonia was a thing that could happen, so i had to breath carefully to reduce the risk of that happening. 

The birthday party organized by Yugyeom was going to be a whole entire migraine inducing disaster. I could already feel the headache come on. It still amazed me that Jungkook was friends with him and his cronies. 

Yugyeom and his friends were the typical; brain dead alphas who thought themselves superior to all other ranks. Even worse, they viewed omegas as objects: fucktoys to be more precise and I bristled when i remembered the way he had always stared at me. 

Well, if he stepped anywhere near me, I would kick him in the teeth. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Jungkook’s mother turned up at home the next day, I wasn’t entirely surprised. I wasn’t surprised but it didn’t make things any more pleasant. 

“We’re willing to take Mina for a couple of days if you would both need time to prepare for the party. This is the first big event Jungkook’s holding after Sooah’s passing and we want it to be perfect. As his wife, i hope you’ll do your part.” 

Mrs Jeon’s pinched face did nothing for my already frayed temper. 

“There’s not much i can do with a cracked rib, mother.” I said politely. It stung, having to call this bitter, cruel woman mother but then, such was life. It was late afternoon and Jungkook was probably sitting in the comfort of his air conditioned office, being flattered and doted on by his smitten secretary while I sat here entertaining his vicious mother. 

“Nonsense, you’ve probably just scratched it. I know how you omegas like to exaggerate. “ she waved off my injury easily. “ There are so many details that need to be decided on and its unfair to drop all of those responsibilities on poor yugyeom’s head. Why don’t you go with him and help out a bit?” 

The idea of going anywhere with Kim Yugeom was easily the most repugnant thing to me. 

“I’m sure he knows Jungkook much better than I do. If i interfered, I’d only be getting in his way.” I said politely. 

Mrs. Jeon hummed.

“Well, its good that he’s agreed to the party at least. That woman never let him meet with Yugyeom or his friends when she was around.”

That woman being Jungkook’s late wife. 

I felt a sudden fondness for her. Clearly she had also recognized Yugyeom for the absolute pig that he was and kept her husband away from his rotten influence . But unlike with her, Jungkook didn’t actually care about me. So I had no way of stopping him from meeting the idiots. Yugyeom’s family was rich and reputed and it was clear that the Jeons wanted the friendship and the connection. Why else would they keep pushing for it so much?

“Is there any particular reason you’re here, mother?” I said finally, after hearing her babble on and on about caterers and invitations and what not. 

“I was hoping to meet Mina...why isn’t she here?” 

“I’m not able to care for her well, what with the rib. The doctor has advised me to rest so Jin oppa takes care of her during the day. Jungkook picks her back up on his way back from office. I can send her over to your place with him this weekend.” 

“That would be fine i suppose. Have you spoken to the decorators about changing the portraits put up in the house?”

I blinked.

“Sorry?”

“The penthouse, we’ve got it back now right? why don’t you move there. We have a cook and a housekeeper .”]

“this is closer to Jungkook’s office.” I had no idea where the penthouse was and could only hope it was farther way. 

Mrs. Jeon frowned. 

“This apartment is too small. Not to mention, you still have Sooah’s photos everywhere in this place. Surely that’s not healthy. Get rid of them and put up pictures of you and Jungkook.” 

Jungkook’s parents didn’t know that our marriage had an expiry date. i wasn’t sure if this was a good or bad thing. But they saw me as nothing more than a way to get rid of Sooah from the deepest recesses of Jungkook’s mind. 

“I’m sure, with time...Jungkook can make that decision by himself. When he’s ready for it.” I said gently, beginning the fresh throb of pain near my temple. 

“Nonsense, Heejin. Men won’t ever move on until you force them. Have you considered getting  pregnant?” 

I jumped about a foot into the air.

“I...what.” I croaked out. 

“You need a child too. He mated you. He owes you that. I’m going to tell him that he better do his duty by you.” She said firmly. 

“Please don’t.” I shouted, stunned out of my mind. Was this woman even sane?

“Why not?” She frowned looking at me like i was the one being unreasonable. 

 Why not? Because its barely been four months since he lost his wife of seven years to childbirth. Surely, you don’t think the remedy to that is to have him go through it all over again. 

 “ Mina is still small, mother. I’m sure we can wait a while. Maybe after she’s one or two.” 

 Jungkook would probably move on by then. Of course he would. Grief was overwhelming but it was also finite. It did get smaller over time. Easier to cope with. Jungkook would eventually be able to navigate his life around his grief. He would learn to make new connections and who was to say one of those wouldn’t be a compatible match? 

So two years from now, there was no reason Jungkook shouldn’t meet another lovely woman, a beta maybe and eventually expand his family. Of course i would be nowhere in the picture at the time. But that was fine. 

I remembered something I’d read somewhere, a while back. 

 If two people are like ships that pass in the night, they meet by chance for a short time , then do not see each other ever again. 

Like ships passing by each other in the night,  I reminded myself. That's what Jungkook and I were. 

“Well, if you think that’s wise.... fine. But now that Jungkook’s doing well, why don’t you entertain people more often? You haven’t had a dinner party here yet, have you?”

And so it went on, over an over for a whole two hours until I was wrung out from sheer exhaustion, my head throbbing and nails having dug half moon indents into my palms from fisting my hands too hard. 

By the time i finally closed the door on her face, I couldn’t help but sag against the door, sinking to the floor in a heap, cracked rib be damned. 

I glanced up at the solo portrait on the wall. The one my mother in law had wanted gone. 

“She must’ve really hated you, huh?” I said casually pulling myself up to my feet and moving to the dining space to stare at her face more closely. 

She was dressed in her wedding gown, a fitted mermaid dress with lace and satin detailing. She had a bouquet of white lilies in one hand, elbows bent and the blooms resting on her shoulder while her other hand curved around her slender waist. 

Beautiful was an understatement, I thought vacantly. 

“ You look like you didn’t put up with people’s bullshit. That’s cool I guess.” I smiled a little. “ You know in another world, we may have been friends.” 

I bit my lips.

“Yugyeom was shitty to you too huh? He seems the type. i’m glad you kept Jungkook away from him. I wish you’d somehow help get him away again. He doesn’t listen to me. Thinks I’m trying to control him or something. ”

It was ridiculous. What was i doing.. Why was i talking to a framed picture on the wall. God.

But now that I’d started, I couldn’t quite stop.

“About what happened with Jungkook... I don’t want you to think i was seducing him or anything. And when i said that I hated him calling your name when we... well you know why i said it right? It wasn’t anything personal...i was just pissed. I don’t enjoy the sex by the way... I don’t think he does either but he’s an alpha and you know how it is…they need that release or they kind of lose their mind .. So trust me we both hate the principle of it.... but at least he cums and well I don’t. He’s never made me cum. That should say something about how we feel about each other.......”

“Uh.. Should I come back later?” The voice near the doorway was so unexpected my heart jumped right to my throat and I screamed, stumbling a bit to the side.

Min Yoongi stood framed by the door, one hand wrapped around a bouquet of flowers and the other clutching his bag and stethoscope. He still had his white coat on over his shirt and slacks, hair mussed like he’d run his finger through it.

It took me a second to remember that Yoongi had a key to the house.

Another second to remember exactly what I’d been doing when he came inside.

Good God.

Had he heard the part where I’d talked about Jungkook not making me cum? Surely not? Oh Please no. 

“Jungkook told me to check on you. That you couldn’t sleep last night? Are you in a lot of pain?” 

Jungkook and I had shared the bed in his room last night and I had apparently, tossed and turned and whimpered through the night in pain. Or so Jungkook claimed. 

“Uh... I’m not sure. He said so... so..” 

“you guys sleep together right?” Yoongi asked casually, taking his coat off. I stared at the way the material of the shirt strained over his shoulders, my throat just a little dry. 

Yoongi smelled so ridiculously good. He was a doctor and he was so handsome and kind to me. The attraction would have been there even if i had been a beta but as an omega, the urge to just fling myself at him and beg him to make me his, it was kind of horrifying. 

Tamping down that part of me, I gave him a casual shrug, heart still pounding. 

“Yeah. There’s just two bedrooms here and one is Mina’s nursery. So ...” I finished awkwardly, watching him move around and place his bag on the table before unwinding the stethoscope, placing it around his collar. 

He gave me a small smile. 

“I’ll just take a quick look and check how your breathing sounds. that okay?” He asked gently. 

“Oh... sure. You need me to take my shirt off?” I asked curiously. 

He gave me a quick little smirk. 

“Not for medical reasons no.” He winked. 

I felt blood rush to my face along with guilt. What was I doing? This was Jungkook’s best friend!! His hyung. Someone he trusted and I was his....

His what? 

Nothing. I was Jungkook’s nothing. When was the last time someone had flirted with me . Someone who wasn’t a grade A creep. 

Yoongi moved closer, sitting down on the kitchen stool and beckoned me to come stand between his thighs. i moved, achingly aware of how much more potent his scent was up close. He looked up at me through sooty black lashes, a small smirk on his lips, feline eyes warm and open . 

“Put your hands on my shoulders, yeah?” He prompted. 

I hesitated, fingers shaking just a little before reaching out to rest on this shirt. I kept the touch feather light , the softness of his shirt the only thing I could feel.

He hummed and bending  down to lightly tug the hem of my shirt out of the waistline of my jeans. I bit my lips to stop myself from squirming. 

He glanced up , eyes meeting mine and holding my gaze. 

“You good?” 

“Uhuhbuh.” I stuttered and he grinned wider, pulling the fabric up to the curve of my breasts. He lightly ran his finger tips over the bruised skin , humming thoughtfully .

“You’ll be fine in a few weeks. Hang on.” He pulled back, plugging the steth in his hear before holding the other end up to my chest. He pressed it against my skin, just before the underwire of my bra and it was unexpectedly cold .

I jumped, fingers curling on his shoulder and squeezing down. 

“Hey.. what’s wrong?” Yoongi whispered, hands reaching for my waist, gently holding me steady and I flushed. He looked genuinely worried , lips turned down and brows furrowed and i felt absolutely stupid. 

“Sorry. Sorry.... It’s nothing.. i just.. it’s a little cold.” I laughed nervously and his gaze softened. 

One hand still curved around my waist, he brought the diaphragm up to his mouth, holding my gaze as he gently breathed warm air all over it. 

My throat went instantly dry and i had to swallow. He pressed it against my chest again and this time it was so much warmer. .

“Better?” He prompted and i nodded, guilt and discomfort churning in my stomach. What was i doing? I had no business indulging him. i had no business indulging any man. Ever.

 I looked away, pulling my hands up off his shoulder, pushing his hand off my hip as well . He didn’t say anything his shoulders stiffened at the subtle rejection. 

A mantle of awkward tension settled over us, a small thundercloud of regret and that threatened to rain misery all over us. I wanted to kick myself.  He was older than Jungkook by four years. Thirty eight years old. 

Did he have a girlfriend? Oh god, what if he was martried?

Nausea threatened. 

“Your breathing sounds fine. Are you practicing those breathing exercises , I taught you?” He asked casually and I nodded . I couldn’t trust myself to speak. 

“Hey...” He said gently and I flinched. 

“I’m sorry.” I blurted out. “ I didn’t mean to lead you on or tease you in any way and I’m sorry if i came on to you ...”

“What?! Heejin, stop. That’s bullshit. You never did any such thing. This was all me.” He said firmly. 

I stared at him.

“I know you’re married but... your marriage, its going to end right? Eventually.” 

I made to step back but he grabbed my waist again, this time a few inches over my jean and his fingers on the bare skin of my midriff made me want to melt. He had long slender fingers, a surgeons hands, and the press of it on my skin felt so foreign and gentle and different and good. 

“We don’t have to do anything. I just... I thought we could get to know each other. Over coffee or dinner.”

I wanted to sob at the unfairness of it all.

Because Yoongi was beautiful and handsome and so good and so much more than I could ever even dream of,  but he was and would always be so intricately woven with Jungkook and with Jungkook’s life. And I couldn’t imagine anything more messy than sticking around and watching Jungkook and his daughter forget me and move on.

“It’s.... probably a terrible idea. “ I said roughly, shaking my head. “ Its the kind of idea that would never end well.” 

“Are you sure? Because unlike Jungkook, i could probably make you cum.” He winked and I felt my face flame red. 

“Oh God...” I hissed, stumbling back. This time he let me move away, merely chuckling and reaching for his coat and bag . 

“I won’t bother you again. But the offer’s always open, yeah?” He smiled again. “ You need me to send over more pain meds?”

I shook my head mutely, begging him to just leave already. 

He nodded and held his hand up in a casual wave before walking out of the door. I collapsed on the stool and dropped my head into my arms , groaning. 

What had i gotten myself into. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I didn’t actually see Jungkook for a couple of days. The meds knocked me out and he worked overtime, only arriving after I’d slept off and leaving before i woke up. Jin brought Mina around everyday and there was something absolutely exhilarating about watching her clutch at her little teething toys and rattles, gummy smile peeking out every few minutes. 

On a whim, i told Jin what had happened with Yoongi and much to my surprise he actually laughed. 

“About time . He’s been pining for what three years now?” 

I gaped at him, completely thrown.

“I..he.. what.” I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around what I had heard. 

“He saw you at that art exhibition you put up in the Hyatt . By the way, don’t you paint anymore?”

I flushed. 

I had no proper response to that. What could i say? That my painting had just been yet another way to control me, only appreciated by father when he could use it to make more money. And that part of my marriage contract included that I wouldn’t paint or make any money off my art for the duration that I stayed with Jungkook. 

It was just yet another way my father reminded me that he controlled him. I didn’t fight him because he would win anyway. And the only thing he loved more than controlling people was winning battles that were always rigged in his favor. i wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. I would soldier through this awful marriage and at the end of it , i would disappear without a trace. 

I shook my head vaguely and Jin hummed. 

“Yoongi doesn’t understand art but he hung around the entire nine hours , morning to night . Three whole days of him just pretending to look at the artwork while secretly making moon eyes at you.”

I could only stare in sheer disbelief. 

“i... i never knew.” 

“How could you? Yoongi’s idea of courting is pretending he doesn’t exist and fading into the background. “ Jin rolled his eyes. “ He tried approaching your father to officially court you but your old man shut that down rather brutally.” 

I swallowed . 

“I... I’m sorry.” i said feeling foolish. Three years...what? I couldn’t think beyond the shock of the information. 

“Does Jungkook know?” I asked , scared. 

Jin shook his head.

“Like I said Yoongi never made it known . He was afraid it would make life difficult for you. He didn’t want any rumors around because everyone knew your father was looking to offer you to someone rich and young. Yoongi was what , fifteen years older? That’s quite a difference.”

“Thirty eight isn’t old.” I said sharply and Jin’s brow went up. 

“Oh?” He questioned teasingly and I flushed. 

“Jungkook is eleven years older. What’s another four more years?” I shrugged.

“You’re interested then.” Jin said thoughtfully. I recoiled, shaking my head quickly.

“I...what? No. No I’m not. “ 

“Why not? If it isn’t the age, then there’s no reason  to say no. Yoongi is handsome , settled and a great guy all around and besides,  your time with Jungkook is finite right?” 

“I... I won’t cheat on him.” I said firmly. “ i can’t... I... besides, Jungkook and I... we’re... we have sex.” My ears turned red, “ I can’t do that with two guys... I’m not like that. “ 

Jin nodded.

“Its alright.. Heejinah ...I’m sorry if i pressured you or anything. You don’t have to do anything. I know you have a lot on your plate right now. Yoongi probably got carried away . More than likely he’s going to panic and avoid you for a year just to recover.” He laughed and I smiled reluctantly. 

“He’s nice I don’t want to hurt him. “ I said softly. 

“ Sometimes that’s just inevitable . People get hurt no matter what we choose.” Jin gave me a sad little smile. “ Jungkook is just as nice a gy as Yoongi. If not better. He’s just...not in the right headspace to show that side of himself to you. I wish you’d known him before Sooah. He used to be this...playful and funny kid. We all went out of our way to keep him safe. Sooah was just as amazing. Usually , we try to find flaws in people our friends  date right? Well trust me Sooah was hard to dislike .” He laughed, eyes misting over as his gaze landed on her  portrait over the mantle. 

I followed his gaze and swallowed. 

“Do you think Jungkook will ever get over her?” I asked simply. 

Jin hesitated. 

“Someday? Probably yes. But it won’t be easy. He’s ... He feels things deeply. He always has. He loved her deeply, he cared for her deeply and so its only obvious that he’s going to feel the loss of her presence very deeply too.” 

I nodded. 

“Its his birthday tomorrow.” I said softly. “ I have a gift for him. Well its not a gift from me, but a gift nonetheless.  But I’m not sure if I should give it to him.” 

Jin gave me a surprised look. 

“What do you mean?” 

I smiled bitterly.

“Just that sometimes fate can be very cruel when it chooses its players. I’m forever wondering if he would be better off or worse without me in the picture and I just can’t decide.” 

“Different. He would just be different.” Jin said calmly. 

There was nothing else i could say to that. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yugyeom had rented out the rooftop restaurant in one of the poshest Hotels in Seoul and although the party was a pool party, I hadn’t bothered dressing for it. I wore a plain sequined top and burgundy skirt that fanned out around me knees. 

The place was teeming with people his age , friends acquaintances and business partners. The women had changed into bright , skimpy bikinis and lounged about in the brightly lit pool tossing a ball around .

The older people were being hosted by the Jeons on the lower level of the restaurant in a posh ballroom. Jungkook and i would have to visit them later but for now I was content sipping a mocktail, leaning against the bar while Hoseok and Lisa flanked me on either side, pointing out who was sleeping with who. 

Jungkook was in the pool with Yugyeom and Jimin and it was impossible to tear my eyes away from him. He looked happy almost, laughing and shaking water out of his hair as he moved around with the strength and agility of an Olympic athlete. Yoongi was in the pool as well and on the opposite team with Jin and Namjoon....and it was increasingly obvious that the half a dozen bikini clad women were there simply for an excuse to touch the handsome alphas as they worked up a sweat. 

“Jungkook is such a competitive bastard.” Hoseok laughed. “But I don’t know what’s gotten into Yoongi today. i can’t believe he’s in the pool. “

“Of his own volition. “ Lisa added. “ usually someone has to strip him and toss him in. 

Yoongi kept glancing at me every few minutes. It was impossible to miss. It was also impossible to miss that at least three of the six women in the pool were trying to get into his pants. 

I sighed and turned back to the bartender asking for a refill. when i turned back around, Jungkook and Yugyeom were climbing out of the pool and Jin was moving to the opposite side to take their place with Jimin. 

“Jungkook and i are going to go get a drink. Anything for you , beautiful?” Yugyeom reached out to touch me and I almost fell in my haste to get away from him. 

“Keep your hands off me.” I snapped . Jungkook frowned. 

“No need to be rude, Heejin , he was just being polite.” He said softly and i smelt the alcohol on his breath.

“Don’t drink too much Jungkook.”

“Oh come on, beautiful., Its his birthday let him live a little...” Yugyeom laughed and I glared at him.

��I’d rather have him live longer “ I snapped. “ And that can’t happen if you keep trying to give him alcohol poisoning.” 

Yugyeom rolled his eyes. 

“Is she always this dramatic, Jungkook-ah.” Yugyeom laughed. Jungkook didn’t laugh but he gave me a look that said, ‘ please don’t make a scene’ and I bit my lips. 

I didn’t want to ruin his night. He looked ....so close to a normal person tonight and whether I liked it or not Yugyeom had contributed to that. The music was apparently Jungkook’s favorites only, the pool because he loved volleyball in the water and the buffet had all his favorite foods. Yugyeom had gone out of his way to make the party perfect and i suddenly felt like the troll stomping on Jungkook’s happiness. 

Swallowing my own instinct to drag my husband away from the alpha who had his arms around him, I turned away and walked off to the pool. Yoongi’s face lit up when he saw me.

“Hey there, angel. Here to watch me kick some ass? “ He cupped his hands in the water, before tossing a handful of water at me. I blinked in surprise, laughing a little. 

“I’m just here to cheer Jin oppa. “ I said impishly, moving over to the lounge chair near his side of the pool. Yoongi’s pout was adorable and I couldn’t help but laugh. 

Maybe I could stop worrying about Jungkook for a while. Yugyeom wasn’t dangerous. Even if he got a little drunk, I was still here. So were all of our friends. 

It would be fine. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

it wasn’t fine. 

An hour later, I found Jungkook in a room filled with cigarette smoke and light music, yugeyom and his friends scattered around the place with a few beautiful women lounging about on their laps. 

“You said one drink Yugyeom...he’s completely out of his mind.” I said shrilly staring at where Jungkook sat on the couch , shirtless and laughing as some girl in a bikini ran her fingers up and down his arm. She had one leg draped over his thigh.  I felt sick at the very sight of it. 

its because he’s drunk ,  I told myself.  He’s drunk and can’t consent, that’s why you feel sick, nothing else.  

Yugyeom gave me an easy smile. 

“Guy just wants to have some fun. Reina’s a friend of mine. She’ll take good care of him don’t worry. She’s the birthday gift i got him. “ He leered. 

I resisted the urge to punch him in the face. 

Glaring at him, 

“Jungkook, we’re leaving. Come on.” I made to move towards him but a hand shot out, gripping my wrist like a vice. 

“Not so fast baby.... I already paid for her. You can’t just waltz in here and take away her livelihood.” He sneered. “ Unless you want to take her place. This is a special bar you know. All these lovelies, they have something in common with you.” 

I stared at him frowning.

“What does that mean?” 

“I hired them from an omega escort agency...you know because that’s all you omegas are useful for anyway.” 

I rolled my eyes, yanking on my wrist. 

“You and your medieval ideals can go to hell. I’m going home. Jungkook!!” I yelled again and this time Jungkook turned eyes landing on me. 

“Heejin?” He slurred. 

“We need to go home, Jungkook.” I said firmly. 

“Now?” He blinked. I nodded. 

“Yes now.” I made to move away but this time Yugyeom wrapped both arms around my waist, pinning me to his body. Pain , sharp and unbearable shot up my ribs and I whimpered. He was squeezing too hard and God what if the cracked rib just snapped? 

Panic began setting in and I yelped.

“Let me go you bastard.” I struggled to get away, staring in disbelief at my husband . 

Jungkook was standing but he swayed dangerously. There was no clarity there and his eyes were hooded. He was drunk. Really, really drunk. 

“Jungkook tell him to let me go!!” I yelled , trying to tamp down the panic that was rising up my throat. 

“Don’t worry Kook. Just gonna ask her to wait outside for a while. Why don’t you finish your conversation with Reina.. i’ll entertain your wife for a while.” He drawled and i felt my entire body go ice cold at that. 

Jungkook was blinking rapidly, the words clearly not registering and genuine terror began to bleed into my veins. Jungkook couldn’t even fathom that i was in genuine danger here, let alone help me. Oh God, why had i come alone? Where were the others??

Yugyeom held me tighter and i swallowed a groan . My ribs felt like they were on fire. 

“Let’s take this somewhere private, Heejin?” He whispered into my neck and i couldn’t believe it. Yugyeom was drunk yes, but was this idiot also insane? 

“Wait...no.. Yugeyom don’t be a fucking idiot. If you touch me, that’s fucking rape...You can go to prison for that .” I shouted, trying to drill some sense into his head. He wasn’t going to risk prison to make a point was he?? 

“Not if you seduce me angel...and you’re going to... Or I’ll just tell people you did...same difference , right?” he whispered. 

And then he began dragging me off to the corner and my eyes fell on a side door leading out of the room . 

 If you let him take you there this is going to become frighteningly real,  a voice screamed in my head and I inhale deeply, ready to scream loud enough to get the attention of everyone in the damned building. 

The door opened just as I opened my mouth and I froze, watching Mrs Jeon walk into the lounge, looking lost.

“What is this place?” She muttered out loud looking around and the arms around me fell away so fast, I crashed to the floor. 

“Heejin-ah!” Yoongi’s voice came from right behind her and I flinched, willing my shaking legs to stop trembling. 

“Mrs. Jeon...” I muttered, voice strained and ribs throbbing. 

“Heejin? What is going on here? Where’s my son?” 

“Fuck... Jungkook-ah...” Yoongi moved to get him and I took a deep steadying breath. 

Years ago , I’d taken a self defence class and one thing i’d definitely enjoyed learning was how to throw a punch. And It wasn’t something i’d forgotten. 

Planting my feet firmly , i lightly rotated my hips, a subtle shift, before engaging my core , drawing all the fury and helpless rage inside me into my fist. I pulled my shoulders in and took a deep breath. Punch past your target , i told myself. You’re not just going to break his jaw you’re going to put him in the hospital tonight. 

“Mrs. Jeon, Jungkook had a great time toni-” His voice was all i needed to hear  to know exactly where his mouth was behind me. 

i relaxed my muscles as i threw the punch, contracting them just as my fist landed on Kim Yugyeom’s face.  

The satisfying sound of flesh on bone felt like music to my ears and Yugyeom’s sharp cry of sheer agonizing pain even sweeter. 

He crashed to the floor in a heap and I could feel my fist throb like hell. I was going to bruise so badly. But it was worth it. 

“That was for telling me that you were going to rape me and tell everyone that i seduced you.” I said calmly. 

Yoongi let out a noise of disbelief. 

“What the actual fuck.....” He shouted. 

“Yugyeom what the fuck man? Are you out of your damned mind?” One of his friends yelled. Yugyeom merely groaned. 

He couldn’t answer, blood trickling down his chin and hands cradling his jaw, whimpers falling out of his  mouth. My own fist throbbed like hell so the damage had to be significant. 

Mrs Jeon looked horrified and when she opened her mouth i quickly held a hand up.

“I’m not doing this. Not tonight. “ I said calmly. Jungkook was quiet, the way he always got when he was drunk and I groaned. 

It was going to be a long night. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We need to talk.” I said calmly and Jungkook swallowed. 

“Heejin, I’m -”

“Hear me out first Jungkook.” I said sharply. “ I don’t need your apology, it means nothing to me because it means nothing to you. You’re not sorry that you didn’t help me last night. You’re just angry that you had to help at all. You don’t give a fuck about me. I know that and I’m okay with that. What I’m not okay with is you getting drunk to the point that you don’t even recognize that someone’s in need of help. “ 

I took a deep breath. 

“If you did it to me, you’ll do it to your daughter too. Yugyeom is going to get you drunk someday when you’re taking care of Mina by yourself and then when she needs you, what are you going to do?” 

“You’re right... I shouldn’t have gotten that drunk -”

“I’m only here , talking to you , because of your daughter. If it was just you, I wouldn’t give a damn because you’re an adult and if you make your bed , you can just lie on it. It wouldn’t bother me. But Mina...she’s not capable of making the right choices. She need a father who can make the right choices, because whatever shitty choice you make, your daughter is going to be there along for the ride whether she wants to or not. You drive your car off a cliff tomorrow , she’s going to be there in the car seat laughing because she doesn’t know the consequences of your choices. “ 

I clenched my fists to keep my voice even. To stop myself from yelling. 

“I have something for you. “ 

I grabbed the brown paper wrapped canvas from under the table. 

“It’s a painting . Your wife commissioned me to make this a year ago when she got pregnant.” 

He froze so eerily still that it made me nervous.

“At first , i wasn’t sure if i should be giving it to you because well... because i was marrying you ... I wasn’t sure that it would be right, coming from me ...because I was taking your wife’s place after all...”

i laughed. 

“Now I know that's just bullshit. I don’t have a place in your life. I’m a nobody. This isn’t about me. This is about you. She told me back then that you were nervous about being a father. That was all she said. And she wanted me to pain this. “ I held the canvas out to him. 

“You can see it. I’m going to go stay with Jin oppa for a few days. I want you to see it. It shows how your wife saw you. The kind of father she hoped you would be. I want you to see it and make a choice. You can either get the help you need. “ i took a deep breath, “ Or I’m going to tell Yoongi that you’re incompetent to be a father. He’ll file charges , “ I had to close my eyes to get the next words out, “ and you will lose custody of your daughter.” 

Jungkook inhaled sharply, hands curling into fists on his knees. 

“i hope you make the right choice.” 

I wrapped both my arms around myself and walked out. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s note. :

I’m so exhausted I’ll tag people tomorrow! 

.@girlinthemikrokosmos  @xius-exos  @sugainfireslex  @yunkichiee@kpopstudybee @ephyraaaa  @peachoney9795 @ggukkieland  @veronawrites  @blr1004   @tinyhoagiepartylover @btsis7okay@squishyjk  @itsdingdong @emmmui  @honeeybunneey  @yeonkiminnie

@just-me-and-myselfs  @delicate-snow-flake  @kpop-lore  @beautifulvirgobutterfly @sumzysworld  @btsmylife21  @teresaisla

.@melrosaeparker @taestannie @dchimminie  @ meraki--life   @somewhereinthestarss  @mawwnsterr  @kookiesbreaky  @chimchoom 

[twotapbuz]

This fic was inspired by this post by @swampythesweetsketch. I’ll post the fics for the rest of 1010 as soon as I finish them.

You were hired to be a personal bodyguard for Eloni

Along with the standard supplies(1010-themed uniform, flashlight, pepper spray, body camera), you were given a watch that would alert you to Eloni’s location whenever he was in trouble

This along with the job wouldn’t be out of the ordinary if it weren’t for the fact that neither of the other members of 1010 had personal bodyguards

You would soon learn why after your fourth concert

You had been approached by two lost fans that were looking for the meet & greet table when your watch suddenly began to beep rapidly. “Eloni must be in trouble,” you thought as you excused yourself from the duo and quickly hurried to the idol’s location. Eloni had somehow gotten to an alley near the venue. You weren’t really sure what to expect. Had a fan tried to kidnap him? You had heard stories from other security staff about crazy fangirls trying to take them or at least pieces of them. You reached the alley and found Eloni being hoisted by a group.

“Freeze!” you said while holding up your pepper spray. This diverted the group and they looked at you. “Drop the robot, now.”

“And if we don’t?” mockingly replied one of the “fans”.

“I’ll send this video to Neon J and have you banned from any future 1010 events.” you tapped your body camera. The threat of not seeing “the loves of their lives” caused the group to practically drop Eloni and they all scattered.

“Thank you.” Eloni got up. “You’re the first guard to catch them before they threw me into the trash”

“No problem, just stay away from alleyways.” you began to write an email, informing Neon J that Eloni had been safely retrieved. “ We wouldn’t want to-wait... the trash?” you stopped and looked up at him.

“Yeah, they usually throw me into the trash. One time I got thrown into a nearby pond.” Eloni admitted, embarrassed.

“And how often does this happen?”

“Around every other concert.” Eloni began to lean on the alley wall

“Yeesh, no wonder Eloni needs a personal guard,” you thought. “Wow. I knew the fans were a bit crazy, but I didn’t think they would go this far.” you tried to pick out your words carefully, trying and failing to not upset the robot.

“I just don’t understand why they hate me so much?” Tears began to fall down Eloni’s face. you froze, unsure what to do, before moving to comfort him.

“Hey, I’m um really sorry about what’s happening to you… if you want, I could maybe give you some advice?”

“Really?”

“Yeah” you looked at your watch. “We should head back to the venue, Neon J is worried about you.” Eloni wiped the tears off his face and began to walk beside you

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s not a problem.”

You unofficially become Eloni’s PR Manager:

After that moment, you would help Eloni with his image before every event(it was the only time you would see each other as you had no reason to be near Barraca Mansion, and giving Eloni your phone number would be unprofessional).

“You’re supposed to be the funny guy of the group, right?” Eloni nodded. “Well, give me a joke. Let’s see what you got.”

“Ok. What did the fish say when he swam into a wall? Dam.” Eloni shot finger guns at you. You stared at him. “Why do fish live in saltwater? Pepperwater makes them sneeze!” Eloni said, less confident.

“...I see. In the nicest way I can say this, you need new material, Eloni.”

“What? But I spent hours researching jokes on the internet!”

“That’s the problem. Everybody has heard of these jokes. If you want to be funny, you gotta be original. Here.” you handed Eloni a piece of paper. “There’s this restaurant in Dream Cast called The Mind Palace that hosts comedy hours every Saturday at 7 pm. I was going to go, but something came up, so you can have my ticket.”

“Really? Thanks!” Eloni smiled

-----------

“So, how was the show?” It was the Monday after the show and you were curious to hear Eloni’s new material.

“It was great! They’re definitely gonna love my new material!” Eloni pulled out his phone and began to show you a video. It was 1010 doing a tour around Vinyl City. Eloni paused the video and pointed at himself. He was dabbing. Between the Eloni in the video dabbing and real-life Eloni looking so proud, you couldn’t help but chuckle and this adorably dorky display. Eloni liked your laugh.

While the new material definitely got Eloni some fans, it still wasn’t enough. So you began to inquire about some of his hobbies

“Another way to get people to like you is to seem relatable. Do you have any hobbies?��� You asked

“I bake in my spare time”

“Perfect! We can make a YouTube account and post some of your recipes there. Cooking channels are very popular, I even follow some myself.”

Your advice ends up working and Eloni begins to have his own fan club

He’s given the same love that his brothers are.

You’d think this would be the end of your job, afterall, you were hired to keep Eloni safe from angry fans, but now they all love him.

Instead, the lack of necessity for your job is strangely never brought up by Neon J and you continue business as usual.

You’ve got a crush on Eloni:

You recognize that you’ve got a crush immediately

Ever since Eloni became popular, the two of you’ve had fewer opportunities to talk to each other as he was constantly approached by fans

Having to stand by and watch Eloni be constantly flirted with made it pretty easy to realize your feelings

You decide to ignore these feelings

After all, your relationship was purely professional

Ok maybe all those times you accompanied him all over Vinyl City were just excuses to hang out, but still, your relationship was professional 

And his number was saved in your personal phone and you two often texted each other 

Even if your relationship was more than professional, Eloni had a lot more choices than you and you didn’t want to ruin what you had

Eloni realizes he’s got a crush:

It first started when he saw a stage technician flirting with you. Eloni got annoyed by this, but he didn’t know why.

It took a while for Eloni to realize his feelings. He at first mistook his crush as just being glad that you were his friend

Eloni also began to think about you a lot. Not just about your advice, but he also began to be reminded of you wherever he went.

It wasn’t until the middle of a baking stream that he realized that he had a crush on you

Eloni tries to flirt with you:

Attempt #1, the 1010 style:

Eloni decided to make his move. 

“Hey, Y/N!” You turned around to face the green robot. “Have you thought of joining 1010? Cause you're definitely a ten out of ten.”

“That was a really good one! You should definitely use that during the concert.” You replied, unable to tell the difference between Eloni asking if his lines were good and him flirting with you. Eloni hid his disappointment, but I guess that’s what happens when you use someone as practice for your pickup lines.

Attempt #2, the sweet way:

Eloni decided to take a more “traditional” route by giving you a box of homemade chocolate. And by giving you a box of chocolate, he would place it on top of your locker and would tell you it was him when you opened it.

Eloni waited for you to show up, but you never did. He was about to search for you when he was suddenly stopped by Neon J.

“Troop, this is Emiro.” Neon J gestures to the robot next to him, “He’ll be your bodyguard for tonight.”

“What happened to Y/N?”

“Y/n had an allergic reaction to something they had been eating. Thankfully, they had an epipen on them, but they're taking the rest of the day off.” With that, Neon J left Eloni with the realization that you were probably allergic to the chocolate he made. He was definitely not telling you that he made it.

Attempt #3, third times the charm:

This time, the rest of 1010 decided to devise a plan to help their brother. 

They knew Eloni would probably never confess outrightly and while his feelings for you were obvious to Neon J and them, it would take a bit more effort for you to notice.

NSR was hosting a party on the anniversary of the company's creation. And with parties came a lot of security.

You and several other members were assigned to go undercover as party guests and report anything suspicious

This meant that instead of your usual attire, you wore a dress/suit 

You still had your watch(the Eloni signal) with you as it also doubled as a radio that you could use to notify staff of suspicious activity

You had been casually chatting with other NSR staff when your watch had started to beep rapidly

Eloni was in trouble

You immediately rushed off to find him, it had been months since he last needed to signal you so it must’ve been bad

You turned around the corner to where Eloni was, only to be met with Haym.

“Haym?”

“Oh hey Y/N! How's it going?”

“Hello, Haym. I’m sorry, but I can’t really talk right now. I’m looking for Eloni, but my watch says he’s right here.”

“Don’t worry, I know where he is!” Haym proceeded to push you into a nearby room. You try to open the door only to find that it was locked. You tried to call someone on your watch, but it was gone. Haym must’ve taken when he pushed you.

“Haym, what the hell is going on! Let me out!” You said while banging on the door. He was kinda your boss, but you had a much more casual relationship with the other members of 1010.

“Y/N?” A voice said behind you. You turned around only to find Eloni. You could tell because of the green eyes and cheeks, which dimly lit the darkroom.

“Eloni? Is that you?” You couldn’t really tell due to how dark it was.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good. Do you happen to know why Haym locked us into this room?”

“Well, my brothers thought it would be funny if….” Eloni hesitated.

“Please tell me this isn’t some messed up version of seven minutes in heaven.”

“What, nonono!” Eloni’s fans began to whir loudly

“Right, sorry. Not like I’d have a chance anyway,” you mumbled that last part 

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, Well it’s just you're a famous idol and you’ve got a lot of fans, you know?

“Who cares if I’m famous! That doesn’t make you any less incredible than you are. You’ve made me so happy and you helped me become popular! You were my first fan and I would love to go on a date with you! Eloni froze after realizing what he said.

“Wait, you like me?”

“Yeah”, Eloni blushed, I have for a while. I understand if you want to forget that this happened. I’m really sorry and I-“ 

You cut Eloni off with a kiss.

“Don’t worry. I feel the same way.”

----------------------------------------------------

“I’m going to the roof to stargaze. Would you like to join me?” Eloni asked. You had managed to unlock the door, and by unlock, you kicked the door open.

“Well I’m supposed to be out on the lookout for suspicious people,” Eloni’s face began to slightly falter. “But, my main objective is to keep you safe, so It’s best if I go with you. After all, you know how crazy fans can get.” With that, the two of you headed towards the roof. 

“Well, that was really cheesy,” Zimelu said, peering his head behind a corner, before getting smacked by Rin. 

[slippinmickeys]

Head Canon AU Mulder and Scully as Archeologist and Scientist at a dig in ruins in the Amazon.

Anon! Thank you so much. I saw this this morning and got that rare inspiration wherein I launched myself at this, and kind of love what I came up with. I hope you enjoy it! (It is unbeta-ed)

1. The University was being cheap. That was the first thing. Piggybacking off the hard work he’d put in: years worth of toil to arrange this meticulously set-up dig. If they wanted to send a team to study advanced medical uses of the vast biome of the Amazon rainforest, they’d do far better sending this approaching medical team into the interior. His team -- his dig -- was practically on the outskirts. The forest around them had already been explored and researched, catalogued and referenced. The real biological finds -- the cures for Alzheimer’s, cancer -- would be found in the unknown, in those places even the aboriginal people hadn’t stepped. The University was being cheap, plunking in a science team on a completely separate mission with his own, just to save some cash. That was the bottom line.

If it hadn’t been so oppressively hot so early in the morning, he might not have been quite so irritated. As it was, he stood on the bank of the river and ran an already sweat-soaked handkerchief over the back of his neck, willing the putting little outboard Evinrude to chug a little more quickly upstream. It was hot and stiflingly humid, and he’d wanted to be at the dig two hours ago, before the heat of the day set in. Too late, that.

The incoming medical team -- if you could call it a team -- seemed to consist of only one person. A short-statured wisp of a woman (if the high, top-knotted messy red bun was any indication of sex) who sat low in the backseat of the approaching riverboat, surrounded by expensive-looking boxes filled with technology that probably wouldn’t operate well in the humidity. He blew an irritated raspberry and shuffled his feet in the muddy squelch of the riverbank.

The stout block of the driver hefted a rope at Mulder as they approached, which Mulder caught easily and wrapped around a nearby tree.

“Tudo vai bem?” Mulder inquired as the man cut the engine and grunted an affirmative.

The passenger stood, keeping a hand on the side of the little tin vessel, its stern fishtailing out into the current. Mulder stepped up and held out a hand, which she grasped gratefully. He pulled and she took a confident leap, landing lightly on the ground next to him.

“Dr. Mulder, I presume?” she said on a light breath, looking up at him with a small smile, having to crane her neck to do so. She had astonishingly blue eyes, a color he’d only seen once, in an ice-cave in the far north. He shook his head after a moment and realized that he was still holding her hand. He dropped it, nodding.

“I thank God, doctor, I have been permitted to see you,” she finished, quoting the journals of Henry Morton Stanley.

Mulder outright laughed. He was smitten immediately.

2. “Be careful with that!” she’d barked, as Langly handed out her equipment to a couple of waiting locals that had been working on the project for three years.

Mulder held up a calming hand.

“You’re working with archeologists, Dr. Scully,” he said softly, “my team has the gentlest hands in the Southern Hemisphere.”

She quirked one side of a grin at him even as she threw a worried look over her shoulder at her equipment.

“Come on,” he said, giving her sleeve a gentle tug, “let me show you around.”

He showed her the latrine first, watching her face carefully for a reaction, but she just nodded nonchalantly and kept walking. Then the mess, and the tent where she’d be working when she wasn’t in the field.

“And this,” he said, taking her to an empty patch of jungle, “is where your bunk will be. My apologies that it’s not set up. There’s no female barracks and we were told you wouldn’t be here until next week. The radio communique we got this morning informing us of your arrival came as something of a surprise.”

“I’m eager to get started,” was all she said in response.

Mulder walked on and she followed him.

“I’m afraid the only empty cot is in my tent,” he said sheepishly. “Dr. Byers headed home for a funeral last month and we’re not expecting him back until March. I’ll be sure yours is set up right away, but takes some time as we have to build a platform first. Have you done jungle field work before?”

“I flew here from Borneo,” she said. “It’s not a problem.” With that, she flipped back the tent’s outer curtain and ducked inside like she owned the place.

She never did move out.

3. Scully’s father had been diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer and hadn’t lived long enough to see her graduate from medical school. She would not let it happen to anyone else if she could help it, she’d said. She worked like a woman possessed.

Against all advice, she would march into the jungle alone and be gone for days at a time. When her grad students finally arrived, they couldn’t keep up with her, and she’d frequently leave them at base camp to work on the equipment (which, Mulder was not really that pleased to report, did have a tendency to malfunction in the miasmic humidity and heat of the Amazon basin. It wasn’t, he admitted, that easy always being right). Occasionally she could be talked into taking one of the local hires with her, but she felt bad taking workers that Mulder’s project funding paid for, and anyway, they weren’t trained in her science, she would tell him.

“I wish you wouldn’t go out on your own,” he murmured into the cup of her ear one night, a trickle of sweat running from her hairline and onto the tip of his nose.

She turned on the cot, a feat, considering its fairly narrow dimensions, and pressed her forehead against his, the flimsy pillow damp beneath them both.

“I’m careful,” she whispered, and threw a leg over him, her dewy mons pressing into the naked flesh of his thigh.

“It’s not safe-” he began to protest, but she’d captured his lips with her own and he fell headlong into the lush heat of her -- whatever concern that had been on the tip of his tongue lost to her rapacious mouth as it trailed a slick path down his torso and latched, vitae and greedy, around the rigid length of him. It was bliss. She was bliss. If he had ever thought he knew love, he was wrong.

4. The whole camp knew they were together. Her tent had become a kind of catchall storage area, and it’s not like nylon canvas could contain the breathy moans of their pleasure. That and she’d just plunk down and sit on his lap whenever the only camp chair available around the mess tent was the one with the tricky leg.

Anyway, what happened in the field stayed in the field, unless it was up for peer review.

“Are you guys going to get married or something?” Mulder’s newest grad student asked one night when the air had actually cooled enough to take the edge off of everybody’s temper. Beer had arrived with their latest resupply and Frohike had syphoned off some LN2 to cool it and it was frosty and rich and maybe the best thing Mulder had ever tasted aside from Scully’s skin.

Scully, from atop his lap, merely shrugged and took a leisurely sip of brew. Mulder pictured it sliding down her throat, the cold blooming into her belly and he dry swallowed, then leaned forward and kissed her shoulder.

“God, don’t be such a newb,” drawled Langly, pressing his glasses into his face compulsively.

Mulder knew what Langly meant. They’d all seen their share of field romances that fizzled the second your boots stepped back onto University soil, though something about Scully felt different; the way their minds worked together, the way she felt in his arms.

“I’m married to the job, bro,” Scully said, but reached back and squeezed the skin just above Mulder’s hip. He kissed her shoulder again.

“D’you tell her about the helo data?” Frohike asked, looking at Mulder from his own camp chair. The little man sat low and back in it with his shoulders hunched up, and Mulder thought he looked a bit like a toad, or an ogre guarding a burial mound.

They’d gotten the funding from a billionaire alumni to fly a helicopter over the whole of the basin in this sector of the Amazon, using light detection radar. Basically, it shot out billions of lasers as it flew overhead that were able to penetrate the rainforest’s canopy and map the landscape below.

“You had a chance to analyze it?” Scully asked, craning her head to look at him squarely.

He nodded, smiling. He’d been saving this to tell her especially.

“And you were able to combine it with the satellite data?” she asked, excited.

He nodded again. “Sóis,” he said, smiling. The settlements they’d found took their name from the Portuguese word for ‘suns.’ They were round villages, all with remarkably similar layouts, with elongated mounds circling a central plaza. When seen from above, they looked like the rays of the sun. “Pre-Columbian.”

She jumped off his lap, spilling half her beer in the process. It dripped down the bare skin of her knee, unnoticed.

“Are you kidding?!” her excitement made him giddy.

“It gets better,” he said, and she cocked her head, waiting for him to elaborate. “They’re laid out like the cosmos,” he said, giving her a full-watt smile as he rose out of the chair to stand in front of her. “We’re already plotted three different villages, all laid out in the exact design of southern constellations.” Her mouth dropped open. “Canis Major, Hydra, and Crux Australis.”

She launched herself into his arms, practically squealing -- something he’d never heard her do -- and he held her, looking around at the smiling faces of the other scientists in the mess. The find would make his career, and her excitement for him touched him profoundly.

5. Martim, one of their local hires, came careening into camp, breathing so hard he had to put his hands on his knees to catch his breath. His face was a mask of anxiety and fear. Mulder felt dread bloom in his gut, and he dropped what he was doing -- actually dropped the computer tablet he was holding to the wet forest floor -- and ran over to the man, grasping him firmly by the shoulder.

“Martim?” he said, “O que aconteceu?”

“Dr. Scully,” the man heaved, his accent thick. He could still scarcely breathe.

“Where is she?” Mulder didn’t have the emotional wherewithal to translate from English. “What happened?”

“Hurt,” the man wheezed, “she’s hurt.”

It took nearly thirty minutes to assemble a rescue party, and they had to let Martim rest for a bit and give him food and water before he could take them back out into the jungle where he’d left Scully. Mulder was beside himself by the time they finally started off, impatient as a recalcitrant child, sick to his stomach with worry.

It took three hours to hack into the area where she’d been doing her search, and a further twenty minutes of calling her name before they heard her weak call back.

Mulder raced ahead without thought to obstacle or danger, and skidded to a halt when he was practically on top of her. She was leaning back against the base of a large tree, holding onto her right ankle, which she had elevated on her left knee. There was a length of rope beside her and a climbing harness around her butt and waist.

“Scully,” he panted, falling to his knees beside her.

She smiled at him weakly, her face pale and sweaty.

“I think it’s broken,” she hissed, pointing at her ankle.

“What happened?” Mulder asked, as the rest of the rescue party trundled in behind him, pulling off backpacks and other equipment. Someone handed Scully a bottle of water.

“I saw a fungus I’d never seen before growing on the bark midway up this tree,” she said after guzzling half a bottle of Arrowhead. “The carabiner failed on my descent.”

“Oh, Scully,” Mulder said, reaching out to tuck a damp lock of titian hair behind her ear.

“I got the sample, though,” she said with a tired, but victorious glint in her eye.

They weren’t back into camp until well after nightfall.

Mulder picked her up from the field stretcher and carried her into their tent, depositing her gently onto her cot. Langly came in behind him and handed him two fresh cold packs before ducking back out without a word. Mulder popped them to activate the chemicals and pressed them gingerly on either side of Scully’s ankle.

“I’m going to call for a medical evac,” he said quietly.

“Don’t you dare,” she said, grabbing at his hand and squeezing it. “Mulder, don’t you fucking dare.”

“Scully, we’ve got to follow protocol here,” he said, trying not to sound put out.

“Do not take me out of the field, Mulder. Promise me.”

“Scully-”

“Promise me!”

“How will you even work?” he said a little desperately.

“It doesn’t need setting or surgery,” she said, gesturing to her injured limb.

“How do you know that without an X-ray?”

“I’m a medical doctor,” she said, by way of explanation, “I can secure it with supplies we have on hand. I can work from my cot for a few days and make crutches out of tree limbs. Please, Mulder,” she said, and he could feel himself relenting, even if it would get him in trouble. “Please.”

He sighed, and she smiled up at him weakly, though he didn’t say a thing.

“Thank you,” and closed her eyes, relaxing into her pillow, “thank you.”

Six weeks later the canvas of their tent ripped back and the greenish glow of leaf-filtered sunlight shone into the murky, damp depths. Mulder rose from where he was resting on his cot and looked to the entrance. Scully stood there, armpit resting on her improvised crutch, her hair a rich autumn frizz around her head. Her eyes were wide and shining, and there was something incandescent about her in that moment -- an energy pulsing from her that lit his soul from within.

“Scully-” he started, but she held up a hand to silence him. Her hands were shaking.

“I found it,” she said, her voice breathy with the triumph of discovery, “Mulder, I found it.”

[lumini-317]

Hello!

This will be my official “introductory” post!

My real name is Erica, but I go by many names. My nickname repertoire includes but is not limited to: Lumi, Lumini, Cricket (I have a habit of rubbing my feet together, lmao), Jinx, Eri, Er, EriJoy, Sunbaeby, and Aceir (my real name but in alphabetical order).

This is my first ever Tumblr blog. I’ve had it for a while but have rarely posted anything, that along with the fact that I’m on mobile is kind of a mess so I apologize for mistakes and all that.

I have 3 older brothers, an older sister, and a younger brother.

I’m an ambivert. Sometimes I love hanging out with bigger groups of people, other times I dread it.

I’ve taken the “16personalities” test 4 times and all 4 put me in the “Diplomat” category, however I got “Advocate” (INFJ) 2 times, and “Protagonist” (ENFJ) and “Mediator” (INFP) 1 time each.

I am LGBTQ+. I’m asexual, aro+panromantic flux, and while I feel like I’m genderfluid, the changes are very subtle and so I sometimes just go with agender, gendervoid, or neutrois. It’s a lot less complicated that way. I’m ambiamorous, and also pronoun apathetic!

I love whump. I’ve loved it for as long as I can remember but only found the whump community maybe 3(?) years ago.

I also love K-Pop, C-Pop, J-Pop, and Asian dramas, mainly K-Pop and K-Dramas, though.

I’m a HUGE multistan. ATEEZ, SKZ, TBZ, EXO, BTS, Red Velvet, SHINee, iKON, MONSTA X, TWICE, TO1, WANNA ONE, SuperM, X1, MIRAE, Ciipher, Golden Child, Purple Kiss, BAE173, SF9, IU, ONEUS, ONEWE, The Rose, PIXY, LUCY, STAYC, WEi (which I pronounced as “way” for an embarrassingly long time), Dreamcatcher, Brave Girls, TXT, ENHYPEN, SNSD, KARD, AKMU, SHAUN, Gaho, NCT, GHOST9, 1team, SE7EN, Cross Gene, D1ce, AB6IX, CRAVITY, BLACKPINK, CIX, VIXX, f(x), 4Minute, CLC, YEZI, B.I, Wonho, (G)I-DLE, EVERGLOW, SEVENTEEN, BROOKLYN, Ha Hyunsang, DAY6, GOT7, Teen Top, BAP, TREASURE, UNIQ, etc! It goes on, far longer than I can list. I am also very much against fanwars, they disgust me.

I’m also a HUGE animal lover, and a big softie. I can’t even squish insects. I don’t care that they can’t feel pain and don’t experience emotions, I just can’t bring myself to. I make it my mission to save any type of animal I come across. I find toads in our koi pond and immediately pick them out and take them to a safe place. I help turtles across the road. I got a mouse out of a puddle and revived it, releasing it when it was healthy enough. I saw a snail on a piece of wood that was going to be thrown on a fire and carefully pulled it off and put it somewhere else. So far I’ve found 5 stray cats (Piper, Toothless, Felix, Kai, and Kit Kat—all were found as skinny, sickly kittens) and took them in, raising them as my own. I rescued a chipmunk from certain death-by-cat. I’ve even saved a few baby raccoons, ducklings, lizards, spiders, and snakes in my time. And I’ll keep doing so for as long as I live.

I love writing, drawing/sketching, and painting, however I’m not confident that I’m good at any of those things, lmao. I mean, I don’t think I’m the worst, but my finished “works” often leave me unsatisfied with my “skills”. But of course, that won’t stop me from trying to improve!

I’m a maladaptive daydreamer. This can cause issues in some places while helping me out in others. On one hand, it makes doing chores and such kind of difficult. Like one time I had to take care of my dad’s pigeons while he was fixing our shed and one time he pointed out how slow I was with the chores. His words were something along the lines of, “I’m already almost done with what I have to do and you’re still working with the pigeons.” Also, it (and maybe ADHD if I do have it?) made school a nightmare for me. But it’s also helpful because then during church it’s really easy to keep myself occupied while the pastors go on about their Magical Sky Daddy™’s son throwing a tantrum and killing a figtree because it didn’t have any figs and how that story should “challenge” us or something.

The characters in my daydreams are weird, though. They merge and separate with each other to make different characters depending on the situation. Most of them don’t have definite genders. Only a handful of them have names because they’re always merging and separating like some kind of Shadow Clone Masters or something. Stuff like that.

One of my characters is for sure a demi-boy, though, and his name is Kyler.

I brought this up because I was watching The Andy Griffith Show and Andy was giving Opie a lecture on how many poor kids there are in the world and used the ratio “one and a half boys per square mile”. Opie then says that he’s “never seen a half a boy before”. Kyler just sort of pops into (fake) existence, jumps off the couch, and throws his arms in the air while saying, “Half a boy, right here!” I burst out laughing. Thankfully it didn’t seem weird, since my parents started laughing at Opie and thought that I was just laughing at it, too.

Any-who.

If I daydream while I’m standing, I’ll often pace and gesture with my arms while moving my lips. Sometimes I’ll even whisper. If I’m sitting down, I usually fidget a lot (such as pick at my shirt and rub my feet together), stare into space, and move my lips or whisper. My family sometimes ask me, “Why are you whispering?” Or, “What are you grinning about?” And I just shrug because I don’t know how to explain it to them without risking them calling someone to pray over me, lmao. I mean, I wasn’t even allowed to have imaginary friends because that was “evil”. When I was about 7, I told my parents about my imaginary unicorn friend and they gave me a lecture and “prayed over me”. It was embarrassing and awkward for me.

I’m suspicious that I might have ADHD, but don’t have the money to actually get a professional diagnosis. I’m also too scared to ask my parents about it.

Speaking of which, my family and I don’t see eye-to-eye. I mean, they don’t know it because I’m good at hiding it, and they think I agree with mostly everything they do but boy, is it a mess.

You see, they’re evangelical conservative Christians. “LGBTQ+ people are going to hell”, “ThE LeFt ARe eViL AnD ARe TrYiNg To BrAiNwAsh OuR ChiLdrEn”, “Trump was sent by God”, “Intersex is fake”, “Women must submit to men”, “You should get married no later than in a year or ‘the temptation’ to have sex might become too much”, the whole bit.

Meanwhile I’m over here with my (imaginary) pride flags, just existing as an agnostic leftist who wants everyone to have equal rights, regardless of gender identity or sexual orientation, and would rather redo my horrifically atrocious kindergarten closing program role than pray to a god who (if they/he/she/it/whatever exists) gives cancer to kids and killed millions of innocent animals and people in the Bible.

But they have no idea that this is how I feel and now expect me to be baptized within the next month to show that I have “accepted Jesus Christ as my savior”. Yeah...that’s gonna be an awkward discussion...

Anyway, that’s just some things about me. Sorry that I got sidetracked a few times, lmao!

I look forward to posting more and maybe even making friends!

Thank you for reading (:

[duskholland]

I'll Take Care of You | Peter Parker

summary ↠ you’re a med student who falls into the habit of patching up Spider-Man

wc ↠ 4k

warnings ↠ some descriptions of injury (but nothing very graphic because I am a wimp), light swearing, fluff

a/n ↠ based off a request I had for a doctor/patient fic with Peter. I didn’t want to do that exact dynamic, so I put a spin on it and had some fun with it! I hope you enjoy, anon! any feedback would be gratefully received :’))

It’s 11pm on a chilly October night, and you’re hunched over one of the high wooden benches in your university’s lab. The only light in the room comes from the lamp you’re settled beside, and you’re completely lost in thought as you practice your running stitches on a rather beaten and bruised banana. You can’t quite seem to get it right, and with each failed attempt at securing an even stitch, you find yourself growing more and more frustrated. You’re about to pack it in and call it a night when there’s a loud crash behind you, and you spin around to see the shady figure of someone attempting to break into the lab.

“Fucking hell,” you mutter. Your heart rate spikes and your mouth runs dry, fear replacing your irritation as you watch a dark stranger jimmy open the window at the other side of the lab. You freeze, eyes wide in fear, and cower back as the person topples through the window, cursing lowly. They scramble to their feet, brushing themselves down, and when they take a step towards the centre of the room, your eyes light up with terrified recognition. “Spider-Man?!” You exclaim.

It might be dark in the lab, but that doesn’t prevent you from making out the red and blue lines of the familiar spidersuit. You didn’t think it was possible to be even more shocked than you were, but then the figure stumbles towards you and crashes to the ground, and you realise the darker spots on the suit are patches of blood.

“Help me…” Comes a high, quivering voice.

Shaking like a leaf, you tentatively approach the figure. He’s curled up in a ball on the floor, and you grab a handy first-aid kit as you crouch beside him. The darkest patches seem to be around his torso, but you’re not sure how to access that without harming the suit. As if sensing your predicament, the man reaches up and presses a button on his neck. You gasp lightly as the entire torso section of his suit separates itself and dissolves into nothing, leaving you facing the exposed, clammy skin of New York’s favourite hero. Your eyes quickly identify his source of pain, and you find yourself wincing as you see the issue: there are several shards of glass impaled in his side, and they’re preventing his body from regenerating and healing. You know you’ll need to remove them.

“Okay, okay,” you mutter, steeling yourself. You quickly unzip the kit and pull out a pair of tweezers, some disinfectant, and a roll of bandages. You try to keep your voice as level as possible as you speak to the man. “You’ve got some glass stuck in your side,” you say calmly. “I’m going to pull them out and disinfect the wound. It, uh, it’s probably going to hurt, and I’m really sorry, but it could get infected if I leave them in.”

Spider-Man manages a breathless, “okay,” which you take to mean you can start working.

Trying to still your shaking hands, you press one palm to his chest as the fingers of your other hand wrap around the tweezers. You manage to get a grip on the larger shard of glass and slowly pull it from the wound. The hero tenses and curses, but he stays still, allowing you to quickly and safely remove the piece. Once the first one is out, you grow more confident and manage to clear the others within the minute. After inspecting the wound and deciding there’s nothing left in there, you drag a ball of cotton wool soaked in disinfectant over the gash. 

“That’s you,” you remark. Your forehead has a line of cool perspiration over it, and you feel a wave of intense relief pass through you as you finish bandaging his side. You sit back and lean against a wooden bench, a deep sigh passing through your lips. 

Spider-Man looks down at his side, the erratic movements of his chest slowly calming. It’s for the first time that you’re able to properly look at him, and you find your heart beating a little faster in your chest as your eyes make out the shadowed lines of his abs. 

“Thank you, uh…”

“Y/N,” you supply.

You can sense the smile beneath the mask. “Thanks, Y/N,” Spider-Man finishes. He scoots himself back so he’s also leaning against a wooden bench, his body facing you. “I usually have to do that myself.” 

A warmth tickles at your cheeks as you push your hair back and away from your face. “You don’t have, like, a team of people to do that for you?” 

Spider-Man laughs, his voice light and airy. “Not exactly,” he replies. “I mean, I probably could if I wanted to, but I work better alone.” 

Your lips curl into a frown. “Alone?” You echo. “Isn’t that kinda dangerous?” 

Spider-Man shrugs. “I guess,” he says, voice drawling. “I’ve made it this far, though, so I must be doing something right.” 

You laugh gently. “Yeah, right,” you tease. “If it wasn’t for me, you would’ve passed out and woken up with a nasty infection.” 

“Maybe, maybe not,” he says, raising his hands innocently. He tilts his head to the side. “What are you doing here, anyway? No classes run this late.” 

It’s your turn to feel a little embarrassed. “Oh, uh, I’m a first-year med student. Sometimes I stay back late to practice some of my sutures.” You point up to the desk and where a pile of your abused, half-stitched bananas sit. “It’s the only time I can get some peace and quiet.” 

He surprises you by nimbly climbing to his feet and walking over to your workstation. As he moves, he presses a button on his neck again, and his suit closes over his chest. You find yourself frowning as the suit hides the rippling muscles of his back, and you quickly clear your throat to suppress that particular thought. You get up and join him, lingering a little behind.

“Not bad,” he compliments. He turns to look at you, and you know from the way the suit’s mask twitches that he’s smiling. “Med student, you say?” 

You nod. “Yeah. So far I only know the basics, but it feels good to be able to give back to people.” 

Spider-Man nods. “I know what you mean.” 

A silence falls between you both, and you lean down to grab a scrap piece of paper. You quickly scribble down your number before passing it to him, the hero accepting it cautiously. 

“Take it,” you plead. “Just in case you ever need anything. I live just off campus, and I’m usually awake at night. If you ever decide you need a medical squad, I’m your guy, alright?” Your lips pull into a smile as he pockets the paper.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he says, voice softer. He takes a few tentative steps back, looking at the window he entered through. “I should go. City to save, and all that. But… I really do appreciate what you’ve done for me tonight. Thank you.” 

You manage a brave smile as you urge him towards the window, pretending it doesn’t shatter your dreams to bid farewell to the hero you know you’ll likely never see again. “See you around, Spider-Man. Stay safe!” 

And he raises a hand in a quick wave goodbye before hopping from the window and disappearing into the night sky, leaving you, a messy lab, and a thousand thoughts behind. 

You don’t hear from him for three months. 

Over those long, twelve weeks, you start your first placement at the local hospital and soon become too busy to feel sad at his lack of contact. But still, occasionally, you’ll catch yourself with a dullness rounding out your heart as you think of the way he’d taken your number and since ignored you. A part of you is grateful he hasn’t needed you, but another is sad you only spent one night with him. Spider-Man has always been a bit of an idol to you, and the realisation that you’ll never see him again is a tough one to come to terms with.

It’s mid-January and 1.32am when your phone vibrates on your nightstand. You groan as you turn over, your body shifting beneath your rustling sheets as you blindly bat at the table before your fingers close around the device. You pull it in close, silently begging you’re not being called in to work a spontaneous night shift, and lazily force your eyes open as you read the texts. 

[Unknown] hey where do you live ???

[Unknown] it’s spider-man

[Unknown] I need you

[Unknown] help

Suddenly you’re wide awake, and with trembling fingers, you quickly attach your location and send it off. You jump from your bed and turn on your bedroom light as you pull a hoodie around your torso. Luckily you live alone and have your own comprehensive first aid kit, otherwise, you know you’d be fucked. 

You wait for about three minutes before there’s a sudden, loud knock on your bedroom window. Your heart catches in the back of your throat as you squeak loudly, spinning around to see a blurry figure behind the pane. You hurry over and quickly unlock the window, and jump out of the way just in time to avoid the very heavy, and very wet figure of Spider-Man as he rolls into your room, collapsing in a heap in the middle of your carpet. He’s groaning - loudly - and this time, he appears to have dislocated his shoulder. 

“Pop it back in,” he whines, voice pulled tight with stress. He manages to sit up, hunched over as his good hand clutches at his shoulder. “Oh my god, I’m gonna pass out.” 

“Calm down,” you manage, gulping. Luckily for him, you’ve just finished a rotation in orthopaedics, so you aren’t completely in the dark about how to help him. “Take a deep breath, Spidey.” You push his hand away from his shoulder and replace it with your own. “I’ll count you down. 3, 2, 1-” 

He curses, expletives rolling down his tongue as you carefully, but decisively, pop his shoulder back into the socket. A sickening crunch fills the air, but a moment later, his entire body seems to relax. He sighs and slumps back. 

“Thank you so much,” he manages, voice sounding a little weak. “I tried to do it myself but apparently that just made it worse.”

Your eyes widen. “Uh, yeah, that’s a terrible idea.” You pull yourself to your feet and quickly help him up, depositing the hero on your bed. “I’ll go get you some water, or something. You look terrible.” You don’t have to see his face to know that beneath the suit, the man is bruised and exhausted. His posture alone speaks volumes as he sits curled over on the edge of your bed, his head falling forward to rest in his hands.

When you return with a glass of water and a bar of chocolate, he lets you sit beside him as he gratefully devours them. To your surprise, the suit parts at his mouth and exposes the thin lines of his pink lips, letting you see his cheesy grin as he smiles at you.

“Always coming to my rescue, Y/N,” he says, voice a little stronger just after a square of chocolate. “Thanks.” 

“It’s alright,” you reply. Suddenly you become very aware of the large, sagging bags beneath your eyes and the way you’re sure your hair is sticking up all over the place. “Anything for New York’s best.”

He chuckles slightly. Once he’s done with the water and the chocolate, he places both the glass and the wrapper on your bedside table and collapses back on your bed with a soft thump. He stares up at the ceiling, his breathing gradually growing slower. “How’s college?” 

You shrug. “Busy,” you explain. “I’m in the hospital most days, learning how to do stuff. Never thought it would be so demanding, but it feels good to be able to make someone feel better.” 

“You should get extra credit for helping Spider-Man,” he ponders, voice quiet but sweet. 

You laugh. “It’s not exactly been difficult to help you, so far. I can handle a dislocated shoulder and a few bits of glass.”

“Oh, so you want me to be more injured next time I visit you?” You can practically feel the smirk in his voice as your face heats up.

“No! Absolutely not. I don’t mean that at all.” 

Spider-Man’s laugh warms your heart. “I know what you meant.” He sits up with a sigh. “Your bed is so comfy, Y/N.” 

“Help yourself,” you tease.

He laughs again as he carefully rises to his feet, rolling around his shoulder as if testing its capabilities. “Feels as good as new,” he says. “Thanks, Doc.” 

“Any time,” you reply. You stifle a yawn, and Spider-Man crosses his arms over his chest.

“Get some sleep,” he orders sternly. He hops over to your window and wrenches it open easily. “Thanks for the water, and the chocolate, and the life-saving,” he adds, already with a leg swung out of your window.

“Bye, Spiderman,” you say. The smile fades from your lips as he disappears once more, closing the window behind him with a quiet thud. But the grin quickly springs back as you realise he might contact you again, now he knows where you live, and you can’t help but find a little comfort in that thought. 

Over the next few months, Spider-Man visits you semi-regularly. He has you text him your rotation schedule so to ensure he never bothers you when you’re busy at the hospital, and that alone causes your heart to warm to him even more. It’s always small things he visits for: bullet wounds, dislocated joints, grotty injuries. Things that would seriously harm any normal human, but since it’s Spider-Man, they only graze him. You fix him up and then send him on his way, and that’s it, simply. A fleeting encounter and then he’s off. 

And it goes on like this for a while, until a warm evening in May. You’re sat cross-legged on your bed as darkness falls across the city, curled up with a nice book as you enjoy your day off from college. You feel calm and collected, and you’re about to light a candle and crawl into bed when there’s a loud banging on your window and you startle. 

You stare outside, but there’s no one there. It’s dark, so you put your book down and tentatively creep over to the window, confused as to the source of the noise. Curiously, you pull up the window, and that’s when you hear Spider-Man’s familiar groans, and you look down to find him crumpled in a heap on your fire escape. Instantly you’re filled with dread. 

It’s very difficult to actually get the hero into your apartment, but you manage to haul through your window eventually. You set him on the floor where he lies motionless, his breaths shallow and pained, and your blood runs cold as you take in the state of him. You crouch down beside him, first aid kit in hand, and find yourself at a loss of where to start. His suit is covered in lacerations and dark, bloody marks, but you don’t have access to him at all.

Just as you’re beginning to despair, you remember the buttons on his neck and carefully reach up. You don’t know which ones to press, and you certainly don’t want to betray him by accidentally removing his face mask, but when he releases another pained groan, you just push at a few random buttons. The suit deflates and retracts from his chest and lower half, leaving him in his gloves, face mask and underwear, but luckily exposing all the areas you need access to.

You survey the damage and feel despondent. He’s been very badly injured, and you’re terrified you won’t be able to help him. But that fear is quickly replaced by a determination as your brain shifts into doctor mode, and your hands start working before your mind can even process what you’re doing. You start by applying pressure to some of the larger gashes on his chest, stemming the steady flow of deep crimson blood until it’s a weaker trickle, and you feel confident bandaging them in a tight white wrap. Then you clean out some of the smaller wounds and stick a few smaller plasters there. Once you’ve cleaned him up a bit, the damage doesn’t look so bad, and though his pale skin has the beginnings of some deep, yellowy-blue bruises forming, you don’t think he’s got any internal injuries.

“How are you doing, Spidey?” You manage, voice croaking hoarsely. 

Spider-Man groans softly. “I don’t feel like I’m dying anymore,” he quips, “But I still feel horrendous.” He pauses for a moment before grabbing at your hand. He’s still got gloves on, but you feel the tenderness in his touch as he squeezes your fingers gently. “Call me Peter,” he requests.

You nod as surprise settles across you. “You’ve lost a lot of blood but I think you’ll be okay, Peter. I don’t really understand how your body heals so quickly, but you’re looking stronger already. I think you just need to rest.” You glance out at the dark night sky. “You should stay here overnight.” 

To your surprise, he doesn’t disagree. “Okay,” he says instead. His grip on your hand tightens as he slowly tries to get up. You help him out as much as you can and quickly settle him on your bed. 

“I’ve got some clothes you can wear, wait.” You turn around and go to rummage through your dresser, pulling out a spare t-shirt. You toss it to the bed, and when you’re back by his side, he’s slid it over his chest. He looks very odd, sitting on your bed, your t-shirt on his upper half, his boxers on his lower, and a mask on his face, but at this point, you just accept it. “I’ll go crash on the couch. Yell if you need-”

“No, no. That’s not right,” Peter interrupts. You can tell he’s frowning. “You can, um, stay here, if you want. With me. In here.” 

Your face shifts into a surprised o. “Oh, no, really, I… You should have space to spread out,” you say. You can’t ignore the way your heart beats deeply against your ribcage at the idea of cosying up against the hero. 

“Please?” He asks, voice sweet. “What if I suddenly crash in the night? Or start bleeding out? How will I live if my doctor isn’t here to help me?”

You roll your eyes. “Dramatic, aren’t you?” But you walk over to him anyway and help him settle into your bed. You flick off your light and shut your window, and then you tentatively climb into the other side of your bed, slipping down until you’re beneath the covers, the warm figure of Spider-Man beside you. You’re tense, and for a moment you just lay there, breathing unevenly, staring at the ceiling and wondering how the fuck you ended up in this position.

“I’m, um… I’m gonna take off my mask,” comes Peter voice, quiet, but still loud enough for you to hear.

“What?!” You exclaim. You turn over on your side so you face him, your eyebrows pulling towards your forehead. “Why would you want to do that?” 

He shrugs, his slim fingers knocking up against his neck. “It’s dark,” he reasons. “I trust you. And honestly, I’m feeling kinda delirious and this thing can be a bit hard to breathe through.” 

You swallow deeply and watch carefully as Peter slowly pulls the mask up, up, up. It rolls up over his chin, his mouth, his nose, and his eyes, and with each feature it reveals, you find yourself holding your breath even more. Because it’s dark, in your room, but it’s not dark enough to hide his face, and you realise in a terrifying moment that he trusts you - Spider-Man trusts you - with his most hidden secret: his identity. And that makes you feel incredibly special.

“Peter…” You whisper, voice escaping into the air. Your eyes trace all over his face as he flings the mask aside. He’s got lovely dark, wispy hair, that stands up madly in all directions, and deep, caring brown eyes that watch your face intently. Your gaze shifts to his nose, and you smile as you notice it sits a little wonkily to the side, and then you find the air being pulled from your lungs as your eyes settle on his perfect, parted lips. 

He’s beautiful. Utterly, completely, beautiful, and you really wish he’d kept the mask on, because he’s made it very hard for you to lie there as your lips quirk into a smile and your heart races in your chest, and just do nothing.

But then he does something.

With a shaky hand, Peter reaches up to cup your cheek. He shuffles closer, his musky cedar-wood scent filling your nostrils as he places his head on your pillow. His long, roughened fingertips move over your cheekbones, scattering trails of warmth over your skin as he gently caresses your face, his eyes gentle and loving. “Thank you for always looking after me, Y/N.” His breath fans out across your features, drawing a warmth to your face. 

You swallow deeply, subconsciously nuzzling your cheek into his hand. You stretch out your legs and they tangle with his, and excitement rushes through your veins as his other hand finds your waist and he pulls you closer. Your foreheads are practically pressed together now, the warmth of his body heat surging through you as you gaze into his eyes. “I’ll always look after you, Peter,” you promise, voice soft and sweet. “I care about you.” 

The tip of his nose brushes against yours softly. “I care about you too, Y/N. So much.” His eyes flicker shut, his long, feathery eyelashes falling to a soft rest at the top of his cheeks. You follow suit, and with your eyes closed, it’s as if everything else is amplified: his tender touch on your cheek, his warm hand wrapped around your waist, his legs tangled with yours. You find yourself straining closer, desperate for more. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, finally.

“Of course.”

And then his lips are on yours, moving softly against your mouth. It’s tender at first, barely even a touch, but as you push back against him, it grows stronger, like a small fire gradually building heat. You reach for his figure and gently wrap your hands around his waist as you kiss him deeply, clinging to him, longing for him, enjoying the feeling of coming home as your lips move together. It’s soft, and warm, and perfect, and it seems to span an infinity as you kiss him in the dark, bundled up beneath the blankets together. 

He pulls back after a few perfect minutes, his forehead pressed flush against yours as he pants for breath. “I love kissing you,” he murmurs. “I love being with you, Y/N.” 

You drag a hand up through his soft brown curls, a permanent smile hanging from your lips. “Feel free to kiss me as much as you’d like,” you mumble. 

He presses another sweet kiss to your lips and holds you close. “Oh, I fully intend to,” he promises. Then he drags his mouth to your forehead and leaves a scattering of light kisses to your hairline, and you relax back into his arms, a sense of fulfilment blossoming through your chest. He’s warm, and soft, and you know there’s nowhere you’d rather be than right here, bundled up in Spider-Man’s arms, drifting off into a gentle slumber. And as he presses a final kiss to the back of your head, you know he feels the same way, too. 

any feedback? I would love to hear any thoughts you have on this!

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[mmvalentine]

Home is Where You Are pt 3 | Feysand

Girl next door AU. CW: abusive relationships. Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

The next time Rhys saw Feyre was at the wake.

Back in his apartment, Rhys tried to settle into his normal routine. But the idea of having Feyre back in his life was intoxicating, after having imagined it for so long. He tried to concentrate hard on his work in order to prevent him from texting her everyday. Especially because it turned out that in the city, the did not live far from each other at all.

A few days later, Rhys put on a black suit and went to Feyre and Tamlin's apartment. She looked so tired, with black circles under her lovely eyes and a slight tremor in her hands. The fluttery feeling he had had in anticipation of seeing her again was replaced by a solemn concern.

Feyre met him at the door. She smiled at him, and clasped his arms. Rhys searched her eyes, questioningly. "I'm okay," she said quietly. "Don't spend too long with just one person," Tamlin said to her. "Make sure to greet all the guests." Rhys rolled his eyes. "Do whatever the hell you want," he whispered, once Tamlin had walked away.

After the service, through which Nesta and Elain did very little and everything seemed to fall to Feyre, the people fanned out through the small apartment. Rhys found Feyre sitting in the walk-in pantry.

He had gone looking for a glass for get some water, and now shut the door behind him before sitting down next to her.

"Okay?" he asked. "Yeah. Just tired." Feyre leaned her head back against a shelf. "Have you eaten today?" "Not much appetite." "Do you want me to tell you stories about your dad?" Feyre smiled. "Yes." "Okay. I haven't told anyone this before, and it's a sort of heavy story. But did you know my dad used to keep a baseball bat by the door. Self-defence, he said, in case of home invaders.

"Well, this one time he was going off at me, you know, really laying into me. And your dad, every so often, when my old man was just shouting the whole house down, would knock on the front door at an opportune moment. Sometimes it would just break his rhythm, and that was enough to stop the screaming. And usually your dad would make up some excuse and then leave again.

"Anyway this particular time, my dad had the bat in his hands when your dad knocked. He opens the door, and spits what in your dad's face. I remember so clearly, your dad's going from my dad's face, to the bat, to me behind him. And then he says, 'You know I think there were some teenagers scrabbling around my porch last night. And I've been thinking I should get myself some protection.' And my dad says, 'that's the problem with you lot, you're soft and they know it.' 'well,' says your dad, 'I've got four women in the house and they suddenly feel unprotected. Do you think you could give me a hand?' and next thing I know, my dad's handing over the baseball bat. 'Hold onto this for now,' he says, 'then get yourself a decent rifle.' Then your dad left and he had to whack me with a newspaper roll instead.

"The point is, I'm pretty sure on more than one occasion your dad saved my ass. And I'll always be grateful."

Feyre stared at him. "I didn't know he used to go over there," she said. "Not sure I'd be here if he didn't," Rhys responded. "At least, I wouldn't be nearly this pretty." He grinned at her, and Feyre laughed. The sound of it released some of the tension in Rhys' stomach, and he leaned over and kissed Feyre on the cheek.

A few weeks later, Feyre came around to Rhys' neighbourhood. She had agreed to design something for a campaign Rhys was working on, and they decided to meet at his place to discuss the brief. Over the past fortnight, it had been the perfect excuse to be able to talk to her.

What are you making at the moment? he had texted her. Ugh, nothing, she replied. I've had no inspiration since my last show ended. Maybe you just need some better source material, Rhys wrote. You could always paint me, if you like. Har har, Feyre wrote back. Don't flirt with an almost married woman. Sorry, Rhys texted back. I do it with no hope or agenda. But seriously, if you like working toward things, my company is looking for an artist for an upcoming project, I could throw your name in if you'd like. I'm not in charge of who they pick but I think they'd love you. That would be amazing! Feyre said.

And then they had loved her, not surprising Rhys at all after years of following her on social media. So he picked up the brief and invited her over.

Rhys had torn around his place all evening, trying to get it to look the right balance of homely and inviting, and immaculate. Ridculous, he told himself, trying to impress an engaged woman. Still, even if she wasn't interested in him romantically, he still cared about her opinion.

Finally there was a knock at his door, and Rhys tried not to throw it open too enthusiastically. But when he saw her, the smile fell from his face.

"Feyre," he said. "I... come in." He stood aside, and Feyre smiled. She looked awful. The bags under her eyes that Rhys had attributed to her father's funeral were somehow worse, and she had definitely lost weight.

"Thanks," Feyre said. "How are you?" "I'm... good, how are you? Are you okay?" "Yeah, I'm fine." "Okay, you look..." he trailed off. "Are you sure you're okay?" Feyre brushed him off with a laugh. "Yes mother hen, I'm good. So tell me about this project."

Rhys led her to the couch, and looked sidelong at her. If she didn't want to talk about it, he didn't want to push her. "I was going to order some food first, what do you feel like for dinner?" he said. But Feyre shook her head. "Nothing for me. Tamlin has me on this cleanse, says it's good for stress." She pulled out a bottle of green-brown liquid and took a long drink. Rhys watched her, and held his tongue.

"Okay," he said. "Well I'm going to get some pizza and if you decide you're hungry you can have some." "Sure, whatever," Feyre said. "Now tell me about this project! I'm so excited, when they reached out to me they only gave me this really vague outline."

So they sat and talked about work, and even though her face was gaunt and her skin a little sallow, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about her ideas made Rhys' heart squeeze. If he could just make her a tiny bit happy, that'd be enough.

Over the next couple of months they exchanged texts and emails, mostly about work, but sometimes about life, too.

Nesta's a pain in my ass, she wrote once. Nesta's a pain in everyone's ass, Rhys replied. Hadn't seen the woman in a decade and when I asked her how she was at the funeral she said 'oh you're back' and then walked away.

Rhys I'm giving up on this project, I quit, she sent another time. Tamlin says what I've made won't resonate with the modern audience, but I don't have any other ideas and I can't bear to start again. We didn't pick Tamlin out of twenty applying artists, we picked you, Rhys wrote back. And personally, I fucking love it as it is. If you change it you're fired.

And then one day, The house sold. I can't believe it's really happening. Congratulations, Rhys said. That's great news. It went for more than I expected, Feyre said. Then, I guess I'll have to go back down and get all that stuff out before the new owners move in. Want company? Very much.

This time, Rhys drove. He picked Feyre up at her place, and his knuckles went white on the steering wheel with effort not to comment on how she had lost even more weight, and her beautiful honey hair looked dull and lank around her face.

"Hello, Feyre darling," he said as she climbed into the car. "How have you been?" "Just fine Rhys dear, and you?" "Good," Rhys said carefully. "That Tamlin treating you okay?" Feyre made a face. "He's pretty stressed out lately. He finds it difficult to work with new people, so I've been modelling for some of his advertising stuff. You know how it is, running your own business." "Sure..." Rhys said. "And... is there a certain... aesthetic they stick to?" Feyre frowned. "Of course, he's a personal trainer." "Okay..." "So are we going to drive or are you going to ask weird questions all day?" "Sorry ma'am, right away ma'am," Rhys said, flicking his sunglasses onto his face and pulling out of his driveway. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Feyre. She was slumped in her seat, and had started to chew on the nails of her left hand.

"Welcome to Archeron Airlines," Rhys said, in his best pilot voice. "My name is Rhys and I'l be your captain for the day, on behalf of us all here thank your for flying Archeron."

Feyre stared at him. "What are you doing?"

"It's a fine day for flying, the weather looks good and minimal turbulence is expected. We are cruising at an altitude of 0.75 feet, your expected fight time is four hours."

"It's six actually," Feyre corrected, the corner of her mouth pulling up. "I know," Rhys said, leaning toward her conspiratorially. "But I drive like a maniac."

Feyre laughed out loud then, and Rhys' heart glowed in his chest. He could do this. He could make her laugh all the way to Velaris St, and make those frown lines disappear. If only he could see her everyday, he thought. If only he could make sure she was okay.

Because she wasn't saying anything, but he was so sure this had something to do with Tamlin.

****

I was going to try keep this very separate from COD but also I want to get the heavy angst out of the way. Because you guys, I promise this one gets so sweet and fluffy if you can just stick with me a little longer.

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira

[shawnssongs]

Better [2]

JJ can’t help but fall for his best friend, but what about the rule? Pogues don’t mack on other pogues. He thinks she deserves better than him anyway...

word count: 3,141 warnings: language, plus it’s unedited... think that’s it.

catch up with PART 1 or check out my masterlist here!

“Why’d you take a shower?” John B asked you as you made your way down to Heywards to pick up Pope. John B said Pope needed to finish up a few chores before his dad would let him come.

“Uh, I mean you were gone and I just felt like it. I’m sorry if I wa-”

John B just laughed at your nerves. “It’s okay, Y/n. You can take one whenever. I was just wondering.”

“Oh, okay.”

John B steered the boat carefully, and you made the mistake of looking at JJ. He was staring right back at you with an amused smirk on his face.

You just roll your eyes and give him a light kick to the calf.

When you made it to the dock, Pope wasn’t outside.

“Pope!” JJ yelled. “C’mon man!”

When he didn’t come out, John B stood up. “I got him. Be right back.”

When John B was out of sight, you turned to JJ.

“So...”

“So what?” He asked just to annoy you. He knew what you wanted to talk about.

“What was that?”

JJ could tell you were being serious, so he stopped joking around. “I think it was two people doing something really fucking stupid.”

Ouch.

“But...” he continued. “I think, no matter how stupid, those two should probably keep doing it.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. JJ hated feeling vulnerable, so he always spoke in code like that to mask his true feelings, but that wasn’t good enough for you right now. He needed to be just a bit vulnerable right now.

“What do you mean, JJ?”

“I mean...” He trailed off, trying to come up with his next words. “I kind of want to redeem myself.”

You just scoff and shake your head.

“Y/n, wait! No. Tha-That’s not what I meant. You know it’s not.”

“Then tell me! What exactly do you want this to be? We’ve been dancing around each other for months, and I’m tired of guessing.”

His blue eyes stare into yours, and he speaks slowly and clearly. “I want you. I want you, and only you.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that started to form on your face. “You do?”

“I do.”

“That wasn’t just a one time thing?”

“I told you. I need to redeem myself.” JJ joked, earning a punch in the arm which had you both laughing. “I’m serious, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Kiss me.”

JJ obliges, and he kisses you as you feel his hand come up to cup your jaw.

You pull away after a bit, another question on your mind.

“Just between us?”

JJ nodded. “No pogue on pogue macking, right?” You nod. “If the other pogues don’t know, it doesn’t count.”

“Got him!” You hear John B yell, him and Pope walking towards the dock.

“What took so long?” JJ asked, scooting away from you a bit.

“My dad made John B helps us put some stuff away first.”

The four of you just bantered until you made it to your next stop to pick up Kiara. While you’d probably say JJ was your true best friend, Kiara was a close second. You could talk to her about stuff you couldn’t talk to the guys about. Not to mention, the two of you just liked having the company of another girl sometimes. The boys could be a little much...

“Hi guys!” She greeted, cooler in hand as usual.

“You’re a lifesaver, Kie.” You complimented as JJ helped her onto the boat.

“You guys really only like me for my beer, huh?” She asked and you all agreed, joking, of course.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” She asked.

Pope answered for you all. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Water’s too calm to surf,” JJ explained.

“And the fishing’s been shit recently,” John B finished for him.

“Let’s just get out there and swim,” you suggested. “It’s too fucking hot to do anything else.”

The summer sun was beating down on you, and you wanted nothing more than to stick your head in Kie’s cooler. Of course, you could take your shirt off, but none of the guys had even done that yet, and you were not going to be the first.

After a while, you all found a place to anchor the boat. Since you’d already finished your beer, you were the first one to rip off your clothes and jump into the water.

“Oh my god,” you practically moaned. “This feels so nice.”

Soon, everyone had jumped in, and your nice calm swim turned into a wrestling match. Pope was splashing everyone, and JJ kept grabbing you and trying to flip you over him.

After a while, you noticed the five of you had gotten pretty far from the boat, pushed back by the waves.

“Wanna go back?” You asked the group, and they all agreed.

“Let’s race.” Kie suggested.

You were always up for a race. You used to be on the swim team until it had gotten too expensive to be a part of, so you pretty much always won.

“3...” John B started. “2...”

JJ started swimming before he hit one and the rest of you took off. You grabbed JJ’s calf, pulling him backwards and stopping his forward motion.

“Hey!” He complained.

“Cheater!” You yelled back and swam forward. You knew he couldn’t catch you.

As usual, you reached the boat first. John B was next, then Kie, then Pope, and finally JJ. He seemed to have given up and slowed down towards the end.

“That wasn’t fair. Y/n pulled me back.” He pouted.

“You went before one!” Pope argued back.

“Yeah, JJ. You get what you get.”

“It’s okay.” You spoke up. “JJ just felt the need to cheat since we all know he has endurance issues.”

The four of you laughed as JJ’s face blushed red. He sent you a glare, mouthing ‘you’ll pay for that’ while the others were too distracted by their own laughter.

For another couple of hours, thd five of you just hung out on the boat, laying flat on your backs to dry off and soak up the sun, which had gotten a little more tolerable as the day went on.

“So what do you guys want to do with your lives?” Kie asked, a little buzzed from the mix of beer and weed.

“I want to go to school for forens-” Pope started to speak but you all cut him off.

“We know!”

“But I’m serious,” Kie continued. “Y/n, what are you going to do when we’re out of high school?”

“Um,” you thought about it for a second, handing the half smoked joint of to JJ who was right next to you. “I mean I want to go to college. Maybe animal sciences, environmental science. I don’t know.”

“Besides school.” Kie prodded.

“I mean I want to get married. Have kids...”

You didn’t know it, but JJ’s heart was racing next to you.

“John B?” Kie finally moved on, but JJ tuned out.

You wanted to go to college. You wanted a family. He could never give you what you wanted. He couldn’t be what you deserved. You needed someone *better*. But it was okay. You guys were still in high school, right? JJ could be a little selfish if he wanted to, and that’s exactly what he was going to do.

“JJ?” He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard his name.

“Huh?”

“What about you?” Kie asked, and JJ swore he could feel your eyes turn to watch him.

“Uh, I don’t know, man. Just living day by day, I guess.” It wasn’t a lie, and it was better than saying it didn’t matter what he wanted because there was no way he was ever getting out of the outer banks. He was stuck here, just like his dad.

“Holt shit!” John B laughed, sitting up from his spot on the boat. “Y/n, did you forget sunscreen?”

The rest of you sit up as well, all eyes on your reddened body.

“Oh my god! No!”

JJ placed a finger on your stomach and you slapped his hand away.

“Shit!” He laughed at the white mark left where his finger had been.

“I put on sunscreen this morning!”

“And then you took a shower...” John B reminded you.

“Ughhh.” You groan, falling back against the boat.

“Guess that means it’s probably time to head home, huh?” Kie suggested, and the rest of you agreed. You were going to have a hell of a time dealing with this sunburn. At least it wasn’t your back.

You dropped Kie off first, as usual, but she promised she’d come to your place tomorrow morning with some aloe for you. You had the cheap gel, but she had access to the real stuff, and you weren’t going to turn that down.

Pope was next, and he made sure to give you a hug before getting off the boat. It was a normal occurrence so you didn’t think anything of it, but just as you felt his skin come into contact with yours and heard the laughing of the three boys, you shrieked and pulled away from him.

“Damn it, Pope! Get out of here!”

“JJ told me to do it.” Pope explained.

“Fuck you!” You yell at your blonde best friend.

“Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You just ignore him, not giving him the satisfaction of a response and turn back to Pope who was now on the dock.

“For such a smart guy, I’m surprised you haven’t learned not to listen to JJ.”

You heard John B and JJ laughing behind you as you watched Pope struggle to come up with a response. He ended up giving up, walking away without another word.

Just as John B pulled away from the dock, you felt a stinging sensation on your stomach, and of course, it was JJ, wrapping just arms around you from behind.

“Fuck off, JJ! This isn’t funny!”

“It’s a little funny.” John B cuts in.

“It actually hurts though.”

While you were talking, JJ decided to light another joint. He knew weed wasn’t a painkiller, obviously, but he was sure it would keep your mind off the burn. Plus, he took every chance he could to smoke, especially with you.

“John B?” You start, taking a hit from the joint before continuing. “Can I borrow some sweats and a long sleeve or something when we get back to your place? I don’t really want to walk back home in the sun.”

“No.”

“What?”

John B chuckled. “I mean yes and no. You can borrow clothes if you want but you don’t have to. I’ll drive you back.”

“What?” You ask. “No, John B. Don’t waste your gas. I can walk home. I do it all the time.”

“I’m driving you back home, Y/n. That’s final.”

You rolled your eyes because the boys always seem to treat you like their little sister, but you were secretly kind of glad they took such good care of you.

When the pogue was successfully docked outside of the Chateau, John B made his way inside, but you and JJ stayed out on the boat to finish the joint. No reason to waste it, right?

“C’mere.” JJ spoke softly before lifting the blunt to his mouth.

You leaned in, sure of what he was about to do.

And just as expected, he held the smoke in, releasing it into your mouth as you pressed your lips together. JJ watched in awe as you let the second hand smoke out in rings, so expertly.

“I love when you do that,” he admitted.

“Yeah?” You smirk at him.

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in for another kiss. You felt his tongue on your lower lip, and you allowed him entrance to your mouth, tangling your tongues together. The kiss grew more and more heated by the second, all until JJ’s hand found your waist and gripped harshly.

“Ow!” You screeched. “JJ!” You push him off of you, looking down at the white mark left on your skin from where his palm covered your burn.

“Oh shit. Fuck, Y/n I-”

“You okay, Y/n?” You hear John B call from the Chateau.

“Yeah!” You yell back to him, deciding to get out of the boat. The longer you stayed out there with JJ, first of all, you were probably getting even more burnt than you already were, but second of all, the more likely you were to get caught. It seemed like John B already had a suspicion, and you weren’t going to make it easy for him to confirm it.

You head into the chateau, your discarded clothes in hand because you really didn’t feel like putting clothes back on over your burn.

“Shit, Y/n. You’re as red as a lobster.”

“Thanks for pointing that out, John B,” you tease, “I had no idea.” To be honest, the color did look even worse now that you were inside. And of course, it was only the front of your body. This burn was going to screw up your tan lines all summer.

“You can grab some clothes from my room if you want ‘em. You know where they are.”

“Thanks, JB. And I’m sorry to ask this, but-”

John B nodded before you even got the chance to ask. “Yes, you can take another shower.”

“Thank you, you’re the best!” You kiss him on the cheek, just as JJ comes through the front door.

When they finally hear the shower start, John B decides to have a little fun with JJ. He could tell something was going on between the two of you, but he knew neither of you would admit it. You just happened to be great at keeping secrets, and sometimes you were an almost scarily good actor. And JJ, he was pretty see through, but like he always said, ‘deny deny deny.’ Even when people could tell something was up with him, he never broke. Though, John B was pretty sure he knew how to get him to admit it this time.

“JJ, can I ask you something?”

“Uh, yeah?” JJ sat down on the couch, trying not to think about what happened there just this morning.

“What do you think about Y/n?” John B sat down next to JJ, looking inquisitive.

“W-what do you mean?” JJ asked, uncomfortable.

“Like, what do you think about her? Would you date her?” John B was trying to hard not to laugh at JJ’s expression.

JJ knew John B would think something was up if he acted awkward about this, so he answered like he figured he probably would have a couple months before.

“I think she’s fuckin’ hot as hell. Confident, funny, smart. Did you know she gets straight A’s?”

“I did.” John B nodded.

“I mean yeah, I’d hookup with her. But pogues don’t mack on pogues, right?” JJ smiled, thinking he’d been pretty convincing.

John B nodded, still acting contemplative. “But you wouldn’t date her?”

JJ struggled to come up with an answer for that one. “I mean, you know I don’t really date... not my thing.”

“But do you think she’s date worthy? Girlfriend material?”

“What are you getting at?” JJ finally asked, annoyed with all of John B’s prodding.

“I want to ask her out.”

Well that wasn’t where JJ was expecting that conversation to go. He choked, but tried to mask it by clearing his throat.

“What?” He turned to face his tanned friend.

“I know the rule but, I mean, she’s kind of perfect.”

“Since when have you been interested in her?” JJ got defensive.

“I don’t know. A while?” John B hadn’t thought that far into the lie. “But what do you think? Should I ask her out?”

No, you shouldn’t, asshole. “I don’t think so, JB. The ru-”

“Fuck the rule!”

“Still no.” JJ answered, and John B knew he was finally getting somewhere. “I don’t think she’d be interested in you.”

“Well, I think she would be. Sends me signals all the time.” John B was lying. You and him were great friends, but you both knew that was it. Nothing more would ever come of it. He saw you like a sister and you saw him like a brother. JJ didn’t need to know that though. “I mean she takes my clothes all the time. She’s always kissing me on the cheek. She always sits next to me when we’re watching movies... leaning into me.”

“Alright, stop, okay?” JJ was fed up. “Y/n wouldn’t date you because she’s seeing someone.”

“What?” John B acted surprised.

JJ just kept going with the lie. “Yeah, she’s keeping it a secret.”

“But she told you?” John B raised his eyebrows.

“Of course she told me. She tells me everything.”

“If she was in a relationship, why would she tell you and not Kie?”

JJ didn’t have an answer for that one. He was right. If you were in a relationship, Kie would be the first person you’d go to. “I don’t know. She just did.”

“Who is it, JJ?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“JJ, just tell me who it is.”

“No!”

“Fine, I’ll go ask her.” John B stormed off to the bathroom door and JJ ran after him.

“Fine!” JJ cracked, gripping John B’s arm which was about to knock. “Get away from the door.”

John B backed up, and JJ released his hand.

“You can’t tell her you know.”

“Know what?” John B wasn’t going to stop until JJ admitted it. He mostly just wanted to see JJ day he was dating someone.

“It’s me. Y/n and I... we’re together.”

John B just smiled and laughed.

“Wh-”

“That took way longer than I expected,” John B admitted.

“You knew?” JJ looked at his friend in disbelief.

“Of course I knew. Been expecting it for months. Then this morning, the sex smell, the shower, Y/n acting so weird. I knew. I just needed you to confirm it.” John B was smiling, extremely proud of himself.

“First of all, you’re an asshole, John B. And second of all, don’t tell anyone.” JJ raised his finger to John B as if he was threatening him.

“I won’t.”

“Not Kie, not Pope, not Y/n. This stays between us, alright?”

John B hit JJ’s hand away from him. “I get it, JJ. You know they’re going to figure it out though, right?”

The water in the bathroom stopped, and they knew you’d be out any second.

“Not a word,” JJ warned, going to sit back down on the couch.

John B put his hands up in surrender and stalked back to his room.

sorry, this was kind of a filler chapter. hopefully you enjoyed! I promise it’ll get better.

Part 3? Please send feedback!

Also if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know :) @tangledinsparkles @treestarrrrrrrr @parkersdarling @eternalharry @sarahsmaybank @mileven-reddie

[imaginingmyloki]

Shift in Reality (pt 2)

Word count: 2,120

A/N: ok so obviously this took way longer than I expected/promised it would. Life has been getting in the way of fun lately. As some of you know, A year ago I left home and moved across country to Arizona to discover myself/make a new life/have an adventure. Well now I am moving back home to Virginia and it has just been a wild few weeks. (more on that later) anyways, enjoy part 2! There will definitely be a part 3! I said in a few answers to anons yesterday that this would likely be the last part but it kinda took off from me and started writing itself haha. I am not going to give a promised date for part 3 but I do have a good chunk of it already written from cutting it out of this lol. I won’t be linking any youtube vids about her powers this time, if you check out part 1′s note there is a compilation video of Daisy Johnson using her powers and she is based off of Daisy. ok byyyeeee

“No this can’t be right... I was just with them. What is going on?” I was frantically looking around the room trying to figure out where the hell I was. “Ma’am you need to calm her down or we will have to sedate her.” One of the white coats told the woman with the familiar voice. The heart monitor next to me was beeping rapidly, adding to my anxiety. She moved slightly closer to me and grabbed my hand and started talking. I couldn’t focus on what she was saying but the familiar cadence of her voice was calming me down significantly. “I don’t understand why I’m here. Who are you?” she looked hurt when I asked her that question. One of the many people buzzing about the room checking on the machines quietly said “Some amnesia is really common in these situations. She will likely regain her memories as time passes.” the woman nodded sadly and kept talking to me even though I was not paying any attention to her and was trying to focus on all the details I could about the room I was in and the different faces coming and going. 

                                                 -At the Compound-

Loki was sitting next to my unconscious form reading when Bruce came in with a machine that looked like a very small version of an MRI. “This is S.H.I.E.L.D.s latest, top of the line medical equipment. It is essentially a mobile MRI but way more advanced in what it can pick up. I didn’t do one before but she’s been out for almost 24 hours and hasn’t even moved so I need to see what’s going on in there.” He positioned the machine near my head and Loki watched Bruce’s face go from curious to concerned in a matter of seconds. “What is it?” He asked. At this point Nat and Wanda had come over to check on me and joined the group to see what was happening. Bruce shook his head, “I have no idea. There is something foreign in her temporal lobe. It looks like it is sending electro magnetic pulses to her brain causing her hippocampus-” He looked around and had to remind himself to use more understandable wording for them,”-uh her memory and dream centers to light up like crazy. I wish we could get in there and see what was happening.” Everyone slowly turned to Wanda who nodded and said, “Ok move the machine out of the way.” as she approached me. 

“Well? What did you see? Is she ok?” Loki demanded when Wanda had finished. She sat on the end of the couch by my feet, “We have to get that thing out of her, guys. She didn’t even see me when I was right in front of her trying to get her attention. It has her in this fake reality where she was in a coma and just woke up in the hospital with someone I assume is meant to be her mother. And the worst part is that we don’t exist in that reality. We are just movie characters. She seems really confused but the doctors are saying she has amnesia and its common for coma patients to wake up thinking they were a part of their favorite fictional world. It looks like she is starting to believe them. She looks so lost and heart broken. I couldn’t pull her out of it.” Everyone sat in silence for a few minutes, no one having words for the situation. Wanda looked to Bruce “How is this possible?” He was quiet for a few more minutes before answering “The only thing I can think of is the Winter Soldier.” He put a hand up to stop the incoming questions from the group as he continued, “With Bucky, their first and most formidable success, they wiped his memory, emotionally and physically tortured him until he broke and they had total, absolute control of him. Until Steve. The programming used on Bucky, while it was effective, didn’t hold up against the memories surfacing. So other than the obvious technological upgrades of this new programming- if that is what’s happening- they realized their fatal flaw. They tried to completely wipe out memories and when they resurfaced it undid everything. Making (Y/N) think that she made us up, that we are fictional characters, and now that she has forgotten her own life will not only break her but it will solve the issue of us breaking the programming in the future. She thinks we only exist in her mind and on the screen. I wouldn’t be surprised if this reality they have her in starts to change into doctors discovering she has a mental disorder that comes with hallucinations. Now, after they wipe her memory, if we start showing up again, she will question her own sanity and not her handler’s orders because her most recent memories of us are going to be that she can’t trust her own mind.” Everyone stared at him in stunned silence. “We need to get Tony and the others in here and brief them now. and we need to find Nelson.” Nat said and quickly left the room.  Loki looked at Wanda and said, “Please keep watching her. I know you haven’t been able to connect to her but at least we will know what she is dealing with.”

                                                   -Y/N’s Mind-

This doesn’t feel right. Something is just off about this hospital, these people. After initially waking up and everyone fluttering around my room to check vitals and ask me 800 questions that I couldn’t answer, they finally left me alone to rest with the promise of checking on me throughout the night to wake me up and see if I remembered anything. The woman- my mom I had been told- was sleeping on a cot in the corner of the room lightly snoring. I had asked her what had happened and the story was that I had been at the beach with my family when a wave had caused me to hit my head on a rock under the surface. I had nearly drowned but my best friend, Paul, had been right there and dragged me back to shore. That was 4 months ago and I had been unconscious ever since. She had spent a couple hours telling me all about our life as I grew up. I was an only child and we had traveled all over the world throughout the years. Because of moving around and experiencing so many different places, I knew 15 different languages by the time I was 18. We had recently moved here to California and bought a house close to my grandparents. She was going to call them and tell them I could have visitors in a few days when my memories started catching up with me but was going to call Paul and have him come tomorrow and see if it would hopefully jog my memory. A nurse came in very early and quietly woke my mother, “Ma’am, we called the friend you asked us to have come in. Mr Nelson? He’s here.” My mother got up and went with the nurse. I hadn’t slept at all and was very tired but that name sent a jolt straight through me. I knew he had to be behind this somehow. I looked around for some kind of weapon I could use when he came into the room. There was nothing but the dull butter knife from my dinner that was still untouched from the night before by my bed. I grabbed it a slid it between the bed and my thigh then, I waited. The door opened and I heard my mother’s cheerful voice, “Oh, Paul, she is going to be thrilled to see you. Well, she may actually not remember you yet. We have been waiting on her memories to come back but so far nothing has.” A chuckle and a chilling voice that sent shivers down my spine and raised the hairs on my neck replied, “No worries at all. I have talked this girl through so many breakups, I’m sure I can talk her out of amnesia.”

As they came through the door, my entire body tensed as I locked eyes with Nelson. It was definitely him but he looked different. Casual and relaxed with almost friendly eyes. “(Y/n)! I am so happy to see you conscious! You gave me quiet the scare.” he made his way towards me and my mother backed out of the room with “I’ll give you two some time to talk.” and a hopeful smile. As soon as she shut the door, I had him pinned against the wall with the knife to his throat. “What is this, Nelson?!” The look of fear in his eyes made me hesitate and he pushed me off of him. “(Y/n), what are you doing? We have been friends for years. Wait, you remember me? But, since when do you call me Nelson?” I slowly backed up until my legs hit the bed and I sat down. A nurse came in to check on the commotion I had caused and Nelson - Paul? - told her we were fine. Satisfied, she nodded and closed the door behind her as she left. “Stop playing games. I know what this is, Nelson. Let me go.” I watched his face carefully but showed no signs of knowing what I was talking about. He gave me a concerned look and slowly made his way to the chair by my bed with his hands raised to show he wasn’t a threat. “(Y/n), I don’t understand what you’re trying to say. Do you want me to get the nurse for you?” I rolled my eyes at his concern. Being trapped and the constant lack of answers were starting to fill me with a frustration that would typically have the room trembling around me but nothing was shaking except for my hands. As I clenched and unclenched my fists and took a few deep breaths to try and steady myself, I caught a glimpse of Nelsons face. It still had the mock concern plastered on like a mask but his eyes had a glint of amusement. He found my frustration and suffering amusing. The frustration bubbled over and I lunged for him, bringing both him and the chair to the ground. 

                                                 -The Compound-

  The compound shook violently as Loki used his body to shield my still unconscious form from the ceiling tiles and dust that was falling. “Why is this happening? Wanda, what is going on in there?” Tony asked as he came through the door followed by Nat, Steve and Bucky. Wanda explained the scene to them, “Nelson is in there with her under the pretense that he is her best friend. She’s on to him and just took him down but now they are fighting. She doesn’t have her powers in there so she’s struggling. Nurses and doctors are starting to come in to restrain her but she’s fighting them too.” The shaking stopped suddenly and Wanda gasped. When she didn’t say anything to explain the sudden calm, Loki inquired anxiously, “What happened? Is she ok?” Wanda nodded but was still watching the scene unfold in my mind. “They started it over. She’s waking up in a strange hospital again but it looks slightly different than the first one. It is exactly the same situation. They are telling her she has been in a coma for months and that she is finally waking up for the first time. Now she’s seen the tv showing you guys in New York again and she looks even more confused.” Everyone rushed around to clean up the area and Tony said “Loki, I set up space for her downstairs to keep anything like this contained and to keep her safe should Hydra try and take her. You and Wanda take her down there and watch over her while the rest of us clean this up.” Loki gently lifted me and he and Wanda headed towards what had once been my holding cell before the team decided they could trust me. 

“We need to bring Wanda back up here.” Nat said to Steve. They had just brought in Nelson. Bruce had figured out that Nelson had a device in his temporal lobe as well that was linked to the device in mine and had been able to track him using that connection. He had been unconscious when they had found him, likely because he was inside the fake reality with me and she knew that Wanda was the only one who may be able to get the information we needed about how to save me.

[solarwindswriting]

Oh, The Places You’ll Go

Chapter 3

First Chapter / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Loosely inspired by the song Greek Tragedy by the Wombats

Pairing: Scotty x FemalePresenting!Reader

Word Count: 1411

Summary: On to the Enterprise we go!

Warnings: none that I can think of

A/N: I posted this to the wrong account at first ahhhh. Sooo, this is going to be a bit of a slow burn. But I’ve already written up to part 6 and will be posting one part a day!

Tags: @mournthewicked​ @damalseer​​

Y/n wakes up to the most obnoxious beeping sounds. With a groan, she turns off the alarm, rubbing her eyes awake. Sitting up, Y/n looks around the room. Still dark outside. ‘Why am I up? Oh, right!’ Y/n thought to herself. Jumping out of bed, she clutches her dresser, bracing herself from falling. Dizzy, very very dizzy. She drank too much last night. Walking into the bathroom, and regretting turning on the light, Y/n got ready for the day. Washing off the grim from the last two days, Y/n relishes the warm water on her back. This will probably be the last time she gets to take a long shower.

Y/n is smoothing out her type b uniform shirt when she hears a knock at the door. The door was open by the time she got there and in the doorway stood Sara in her bright golden uniform shirt, a just as bright smile and a duffle across her back.

“You ready for the rest of your life, Y/n?” Sara rocks on her heels.

Still a bit groggy, Y/n hums to her friend while reaching for her own duffle, “How are you so awake? It’s 6:30 in the morning.”

“Because I’m already two cups of coffee in. Have you had breakfast?” Sara questions as the two make their way down the steps of their apartment.

“No, you’re not supposed to eat before a shuttle transport. You know that.” Y/n chuckles.

The two walk in comfortable silence. The train station was unsurprisingly quiet as they take their seats on the way to the shuttle bay.

“The new Enterprise is less than a year old. It’s outfitted with all the new shiny toys. I’m very excited to see the bridge. I heard they used a new transparent aluminum alloy for the main viewport that’s clearer than ever before.” Sara muses while watching the buildings pass.

A voice overhead announces we are arriving at the Federation shuttle bay. Y/n and Sara stand to leave. The train comes to a stop and the sliding doors open. Climbing up the stairs reveals a bustling hanger full of recruits.

“Sara, Y/n!” Calls the Russian accent of one Pavel Chekov. “This way!” He signals to follow him.

The two sprint to catch up to Pavel and separate into one of the Enterprise transport shuttles of their respective departments. Strapping her bag above them, Y/n takes a seat next to Commander Spock. People continue to file in. After about 30 minutes, 7 shuttles transport the entirety of the 450 person crew aboard the Enterprise.

“New Science Officers, please follow me,” Spock speaks clearly as he stands from his seat. Returning crew follows him out of the shuttle while the new members scurry to retrieve their bags. 5 new science officers in total exit the shuttle last, following Spock through the hallways.

“First, I will show you the 14 science labs and who will be heading them. Each one will have a specific topic of research, but all will help another when needed,” Spock drones while tapping a datapad. “Secondly, I will show you to your quarters.”

The halls of the Enterprise were bright white and smelled of mild cleaning supplies. They file into a turbo lift to deck 5. Y/n peaks at the other 4 new members of the science crew and notices she is the only one who has a rank higher than Ensign. Stepping off the turbo lift, The group makes their way down a hallway when Commander Spock stops.

“This is Lab 1; which will focus on stellar cartography as we travel deeper into space. It will be lead be Leuitenant Viann.” Spock motions towards the lab.

Inside stands a slender Vulcan setting up his lab. Spock continues to introduce the different labs and leaders, which Y/n quickly loses track of and begins to zone out. That is until Commander Spock says her name.

“To repeat myself, since Lieutenant Junior Grade Y/l/n has decided to check back in. Lab 13, focused on Bio-mimetic Gel and other potential medical substances, lead by one Lieutenant Junior Grade Y/l/n.”

“Yes, sorry Commander.” Y/n apologizes, now fully attentive.

“And lastly,” Spock continues to walk. “Lab 14, focused on gravimetric field displacement manifold, lead by Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott.”

Y/n looks into the lab and makes eye contact with Scotty, who gives her a small wave and a smile. She does the same. Spock goes back down the same hallway they just came from to lead the new crew towards their quarters. Y/n follows from the back, stopping for a second to look into the lab she will be working in. Far more state of the art than what she has been working in. Her studies will progress much fast on here.

Spock shows them to Deck 8, where they will be living for the next 5 years. The new ship supports enough room for every crew member to have their own room. Y/n throws her duffle onto her bed and unzips it to put her few civilian clothes into the closet that had 5 changes of uniform already hanging. A knock on the door echoed as Y/n hung her royal blue dress up.

“Come in,” Y/n calls over her shoulder.

The door slides open revealing a younger crewmate no older than 20 who quickly salutes. “Ma’am, Lieutenant Commander Scott requests your presence in Lab 14.”

“Thank you, but I am not high enough rank for you to be saluting, and I’m not old enough to be called ma’am,” Y/n chuckles, reaching out her arm. “What’s your name? I’m Y/l/n.”

“Very sorry, ma-, Y/l/n. I am Jason Reed.” He shakily takes her hand.

“First ship? Me too.” Y/n laments while she follows the ensign out of her room after grabbing her datapad. “Did Lieutenant Command Scott mention why he was requesting my assistance?”

“He mentioned something about some gel being delivered to the wrong lab?” Reed’s face contorted as he tried hard to remember his exact words.

“Huh, okay. Thank you for showing me the way. Lord knows I’ll be lost for the first month on here.” This causes Ensign Reed to chuckle.

The turbo lift doors open to Deck 5 and a slightly sweaty Scotty.

“Oh, good. You’re here,” Scotty huffs, “can you tell me why 5 crates of highly volatile goo were delivered to my lab?”

“Thank you for the escort, Reed. I believe I can find the way from here,” Y/n smiles at the ensign as the doors to the lift close after stepping out. “As for why the bio-mimetic gel was delivered to lab 14 instead of 13, I have no idea. But I’m happy to help you move it to my lab.”

“Well, let’s get going then, Lass,” Scotty says, turning and walking towards the labs.

“How does an engineer get access to a whole lab anyways?” Y/n questions.

“I came up with a fancy equation. How’d a Lieutenant Junior Grade get access to a whole lab?” Scotty’s accent was thick, but not as thick as it was when he was drinking.

“I came up with a fancy equation too,” Y/n laughs at herself repeating what the engineer had said.

After about half an hour of carefully moving crates of bio-mimetic gel, the two were finished.

“Sorry about the mix-up, Commander. It won’t happen again.” Y/n said, wiping her hands on the sides of her pants.

“I thought I told you to call me Scotty, lass.” Scotty remarks as he enters Lab 13 with two teacups, handing one to Y/n, “Earl Grey.”

“Thank you,” Y/n whispers, setting it down to hop up and sit on the lab table before picking it back up and taking a sip. “Please sit.”

Scotty sits in one of the chairs surrounding the lab table in front of Y/n. They both sip their tea in silence until Y/n speaks.

“So, I heard you were marooned on Delta Vega for half an Earth year.”

“Marooned!?” Scotty gawks as he sits up straight. “I was left for dead! You beam one beagle off-planet and you’re left for the drakoulias’.”

“Did you ever find it?” Y/n laughs at the engineer’s outburst.

“No,” Scotty whispers.

“Hm?”

“No! I never found that damn beagle.” Scotty laughs.

[chemicalpink]

대취타 | EMPEROR!YOONGI X READER | PART THREE

Pairing: Emperor!Yoongi x Assassin!Reader

Words: 2.3k

Genre: Emperor AU, Historical AU (kinda), smut but its kinda soft.

Warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, you know the drill) 

A/N: I hope you like this as much as I did! this part is the sole reason as to why I started this lil au tbh.  Let me know what you think! As always, thank you for reading! 

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 

“Great. I was hoping you were still awake” Yoongi said, making you jump from the seat you had claimed in the large library, watching carefully the emperor’s figure as he made his way towards you. He seemed exhausted, his hair the most disheveled you had ever seen it.

You opened your mouth to say something but closed it right after, denying the thought with a movement of your head.

“What are you doing here? It’s almost midnight and you’ve got an event tomorrow” 

As time went by and the bickering took a pleasant back and forth, you had also become more involved in the political aspects of the palace; truth be told, you had been avoiding him ever since that time in his office as rumours started going around, making more than just a few of consorts jealous enough to mess with you, in attempt to make your life as barely tolerable as possible, you had to remind yourself a thousand times that you were most definitely no missing Min Yoongi, although you had to admit that his presence offered some relief in a sense from the hectic life you led inside the palace.

“You’ve come from classic literature to history?” Yoongi stole a glance at the books that were lying on top of the small table, arching an eyebrow

“I read what pleases me” 

The silence that followed wasn’t quite comfortable as he dropped into a chair just next to yours; his leg brushing yours.

You cleared your throat, mind hazy as you didn’t give it a second thought before the words were leaving your lips “I don’t think it is wise of you to be here with me”

A frown crossed his attractive face.

“And why is that?” he replied. 

At that time you were extremely conscious about how close his leg was to you, but you made no attempt to move away.

“Aren’t you worried about what people may talk around the palace? It tends to get quite toxic around here”

Yoongi leaned towards you and looked you in the eye. You found yourself clearing your throat for the second time that night 

“I’m not worried about myself if that’s what you’re thinking,” you said abruptly, pulling away from him a little. It wasn't entirely true, so far you’d had a taste as to how far a jealous consort could go, very much into physical damage. “I’m just saying that it might damage your public image. For you to be meeting with a servant like me, late at night behind closed doors”

“And may I know ever since when have you been concerned about my public image?”

“Ever since apparently I became the one in charge not only to handle your dirty business but your public appearances too. Perhaps you should focus more on keeping track of the political matters rather than playing around with your toys in the harem”

“Any other requirements?” asked Yoongi, who was still close enough for his lips to brush yours if he dared to do such a thing. 

“I’ll let you know if any comes to mind”

Your eyes met and you gave him a slight smile.

What type of man was the one right in front you supposed to be? It wasn’t exactly that you had gone soft for him, but you had to admit that from time to time it felt nice to have someone around in such a grand space, even if the only to be close enough was none other than the Emperor himself.

You removed from your thoughts the feeling of longing in your chest. There was no way after what you both had done with each other to suddenly grow soft. 

“Why is your hair so dishevelled? Has Yanli been playing with you so hard?”

“Yanli? Not in the past few months, fortunately. But I had the most depressing day ever! The puppies are ordinary and-” he brought his hands to his head

“Puppies?”

“One of my dogs has given birth to a litter of crossbreeds. They were too young to tell before, but now- Anyway, I expected pedigree animals”

“Are we talking about dogs or–?”

“What would you prefer?” Yoongi smirked

“Oh shut up” you muttered, making him laugh.

“Care to explain why is it that you look so dishevelled” the emperor's laugh was cut off, “Hoseok told me you two attended some official event, I hope it wasn’t one of the stuck up ones”

“Not at all. I haven’t been able to sleep well, that’s all”

“Neither have I” he recognised and stretched in his place “Would you mind playing the kayagum for me?”

You dropped your foot to the ground and wondered how the subject could have changed so easily. A completely different air taking over the room. One that was the reason for your insomnia ever since the sexual encounters between the two of you had shifted to longing glances across the room, subtle brushes of hands and minds running on images that were no doubt anything but a product of very creative imagination.

“Of course not”

“But you played wonderfully last night”

“If I had known someone was spying on me, I would not have played” 

“Why is playing something so personal for you?” Yoongi asked leaning back in the chair and you felt yourself slipping into dangerous and uncharted territory.

“I can't listen to or play music without– whatever.”

“No, say what you were about to say”

“It’s nothing interesting” you replied while stacking the books that were on the table.

“Does it bring back memories?”

You looked at him for some sign of ridicule, finding in his eyes a feeling of sweetness and compassion instead.

“Sometimes”

“Memories of your parents?” Yoongi reached out to help you stack the remaining books.

You stood abruptly.

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Yoongi”

“I'm sorry I meddled”

You did not answer. The question, mixed with the environment in which you were with Yoongi, had opened a crack in the mental door that you always had closed, and now you were trying to close it at all costs. Seeing Yoongi's face and seeing him so close to you ... The door had to be most definitely locked.

“It’s just– It’s just that I know nothing about you.”

“I’m an assassin” you replied, trying to ground yourself “There’s no need for you to know more about me”

“I know” Yoongi said with a sigh “But why is it so bad for me to want to know more? Like, how did you become one? Or how was your life before that?”

“Trust me, it’s not interesting”

“Well I wouldn’t find it boring”

Once again, you didn’t answer.

“Please. Just one question and I promise it won’t be anything delicate” Yoongi had suddenly made a go for your hand to intertwine with his, his thumb making small circles on the back of it ever so lightly.

You twisted your mouth, your eyes fixed on the surface where both your hands seemed to melt together in something you weren’t able to pinpoint.

“No”

Yoongi smiled “You have beautiful eyes, you know?”

“If you’re trying to court me with sweet talk, I’m afraid it won’t work”

Looking right back into his brown eyes, something came alive only for it to die down just as fast as Yoongi stopped caressing your hand and tugged at your wrist to have you sit down on his lap.

Yoongi’s fingers are cold against your skin, the tips tracing delicately along the exposed skin of your thigh as his hand had made its way under the sleeping hanbok you wore. Your teeth hurt your bottom lip, a gasp escaping from them as his slow teasing movements make their way to your clothed core in the gentlest way possible. 

He grazes your clit with his thumb and you find yourself uncomfortably arching your back against him “Now you can't resist responding to everything I say, right, kitten?” his teeth gently grazing the soft spot where your ear meets your neck and you writhe beneath him, unable to fulfil the growing need that pools between your legs.

“Now tell me, love, why is it that you love music?”

You let out a strangled moan as he kept the slowest pace possible on your clit

“You–you said it wouldn’t be anything delicate” you whispered and attempted to turn to scowl at him

Yoongi’s fingers manoeuvred their way to pull your panties apart, skilled fingers now caressing your wet folds “Just answer the question”

A large sigh left your lips at his touch “I love music” you said slowly, trying to keep a steady mind “because when I hear it I- I get lost in it a-and I feel like I pour myself out and fill myself with it at the same time. When I play I’m not- agh I’m not destroying, but creating” you bit your lip once again as his index finger teased your entrance “I used to dream of being a doctor, you know? I’ve never told anyone about that” you felt yourself clench at the way Yoongi was entering his fingers inside you stuffing you full, he laughed lowly and stopped his movements, removing his hand completely, making you able to see him smile “Don’t laugh at me”

The emperor denied your claim with his head and the smile left his lips

“I’m not laughing at you.  I’m just not used to-”

“People pouring their heart out to you?”

“Well, yeah, especially not while I have my hand down their pants”

You smiled a somewhat wicked smile at him.

“Well then, I think It is my turn now” you were quickly to find his already hard member inside your hand, pumping it to life,leaving wet kissed along his exposed neck as he reclined himself “Is there any limitation?”

“Not at all” Yoongi placed his hands on the back of his head “I’m not even half as reserved as you are”

A grin appeared on your face as you thought about the question, opting to play him a little bit further before asking.

Your tongue finds his already leaking length and  you bask yourself in the sweetest noise he makes, his hand coming forward to stop you from taking him in your mouth.

You both pause, eyes meeting, reading each other. He smirks at you, a smugness in it when he makes his way to you on the floor, the chair screeching the floor, forcefully taking you down with him as he slams his lips on yours, hands fidgeting with each others’ clothes in an overwhelming rush to take them completely off.

Once the body heat envelops you both, contrasting the cold floor, partially covered by a carpet you currently found yourselves in, he rushes to cover your body in chaste kisses at the same time as a new heatwave hits you from him entering you. 

“Yoongi” you whine, making him look straight into your eyes “I’ve got my question”

“Go ahead, kitten,” he said, diving in to place a kiss on your lips, his right hand keeping him up while he thrusted deliciously into you, skin slapping and lewd noises filling the otherwise silent room, his left hand finding yours as a way to ground himself to the moment.

“Why aren’t you married yet?” you felt him stop dead in his tracks for a second too long, his dick almost losing contact with your pussy only for him to thrust it back in with a little more force than necessary

“Ask me another question”

His slow pace but forceful thrust were hitting a certain spot of yours  that he had become way too familiar with over your time in the palace, knowing perfectly that he was purposedly doing it for you to drop the topic, you pressed once again “I wanna hear your answer– If you resist so vehemently it must be interesting”

You heard him groan as he found his face nuzzled into your neck “I’m not married” he said in a low voice, untangling his left hand from yours to caress your face “because I can’t stand the idea of marrying a woman that is inferior to me in mind and spirit” he trailed kisses along your throat up to your jaw, making sure to mark it “ That would mean the death of my soul” 

“Marriage is a legal contract, it is not something sacred. Being the emperor, you should have given up those crazy ideas. What if you have to get married for an alliance? Would you really declare war because of your romantic ideals?” 

“Things–” he grunts and pulls back slowly “are not–”and pushes his way back in, groaning “that way”

You could tell something had snapped inside him, and you were sure to have your fun with it  “Huh? Then you wouldn’t marry a princess to strengthen your empire?”

“I’ve already got an army to take care of that”

A mewl makes its way out of your mouth as his shaft slides in and out of your body “You can always love another woman aside. Marriage for you doesn’t mean you can’t love other people”

Yoongi’s eyes burned holes into yours.

“One must marry the person they love and none other” he said as he struggled once more to keep his pace and you laughed “You’re making fun of me! You’re laughing in my face!” 

“You deserve to be laughed at for having such stupid ideas! I spoke to you from the heart; you only speak from selfishness”

“You are incredibly judgmental, Y/N” you were still smiling up at him as he dived down to capture your lips, moans constantly escaping both of you as you quietly and gracefully approached your own highs together, him spilling his seed inside you.

Forehead resting against your own as you found yourselves panting, him sliding out as your spasming cunt dripped with both of your releases onto the floor, placing one more soft kiss on your lips with his eyes closed “Marry me”

[todisturbtheuniverse]

FIC: Set All Trappings Aside [9/9] - COMPLETE

Rating: T Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Pairing: f!Adaar/Josephine Montilyet Tags: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Class Differences Word Count: 3500 (this chapter) Summary: After months of flirtation, a contract on Josephine’s life brings Adaar’s feelings for her closer to the surface than ever. It highlights, too, all of their differences, all of the reasons a relationship between them would not last. But Adaar is a hopeful woman at heart; if Josephine can set all trappings aside, then so can she. Also on AO3. Notes: While the context for this story is the Of Somewhat Fallen Fortune questline, some of the conversations within it didn’t quite fit for this Inquisitor. The resulting fic is a twist on the canon romance. This Adaar and Josephine have featured in other fics, so you may miss a little context if you haven’t read Promising or Truth-Telling, which both come before this one.

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

It was a good party, but Adaar's mood just wasn't right for it.

She'd drunk enough to set her stomach churning, enough to dull the pain of her superficial wounds, but not enough to muddle her head. No, that seemed dangerous. Everyone in the village, even Hammond, swore up and down that all of Koster's Carvers had been caught up in the tavern and outside of it—but maybe they were mistaken. A cruel voice in the back of her head whispered, Or maybe they're lying. 

She wanted to believe that becoming Inquisitor had made her paranoid, but really, ever since that night in the cellar, ever since someone had taken a saw to one of her horns, it had been there, underlying. Her current circumstances just...exacerbated it.

She didn't like to feel that she needed to watch her back when she came home. Made it feel like it wasn't home anymore.

Maybe it wasn't, little though she wanted to admit it. Before the hole in the sky, she'd returned once a year, maybe twice if the Valo-kas happened to be passing nearby. Was it really home if she spent only a handful of nights there every year? Or was it just a place she went to visit ghosts, ghosts who'd taken home with them when they went?

She made her way down the narrow path in the dark, putting the party at her back: Hammond, merrily passing out the local brew, espousing its virtues to Cassandra; Harriet, playing a jig on the accordion, Dorian and Bull in the midst of the dancing crowd, red with laughter; Marguerite and Wilfred and Lonnie, gathered around a card table, groaning as Josephine took another round with a look of polite glee. Josephine, drinking Hammond's beer like she didn't mind the taste. Josephine, catching Adaar's eye above the heads of the dancers...

There would be time for that. Soon.

She kept the lantern she carried shuttered, unwilling to ruin her night vision, and besides, she'd always liked the fields of Duskfield under the stars. It was a far cry from Skyhold, that was for sure. You could see Skyhold burning miles off, up there in the mountain ahead of you; if she turned back now, the fires of the celebration would already be nearly out of sight. Only the Dancing Star would remain.

She came to the turnstile. Her father's handwriting had faded with the sun, and she hadn't re-inked it in a long while—hadn't had the chance or the time. She trailed her fingers over the word they'd brought with them from Par Vollen, the word that had failed so bitterly in its duty of care to define them, the word she carried. She walked on. 

The house, merely a dark, empty shape among a missing piece of the field, came into view. Every time she returned, she found herself surprised by its size, by the idea that she and two others had fit there. It seemed desperately small now, compared to the world she'd walked, putting holes in her boots.

She veered away, off into the field on the left. The house would be there, when she was ready. But the ghosts could not wait another minute.

Through the waving grains, toward the tree that stood stark and twisted against the starry sky, oddly bleached in the moonlight. The field parted to the little clearing, its careful rock formations intact. She released a breath. Jana had kept care of this place. Even the bench beneath the tree only had a few dead leaves; Adaar carefully brushed them aside.

But she didn't sit on the bench. She stood before the gravemarkers instead, letting a little more light from the lantern out, the better to see.

Hammond had helped her carve them. He'd taken the chisel from her whenever she'd wept too bitterly to continue. Silently offered her a handkerchief when she was ready to press on. She'd seen a few tears sneak down his old face in those hours of labor, too. She'd felt, fiercely, that her parents had been loved—that she had been loved.

"This doesn't change that," she said aloud, though no one was there to hear her. "I know it doesn't. I know that's what you would say. I just wish you were here to say it, dammit." She drew a shaky breath. "Where are my manners? Hi, Ma. Hi, Dad. You would never believe what's happened to me, and I don't think I could explain it if I tried. I just want to sit with you for a while, if you don't mind."

She put the lantern on the ground beside her when she sat. The low breeze rustled in the tree's leaves, in the grain. Here, so far from everything, she could almost believe the world was the same as it had always been, that these past few months had not happened at all. It was unchanged, here, where she'd written Beloved Husband, Beloved Father; Beloved Wife, Beloved Mother on the stones. She was unchanged.

"I'll skip all the nonsense," she said, when she'd been quiet long enough to regain her composure. "But help me get this piece right in my head. I've met someone. She's...hmm. She's not what you'd expect, I think. As different from me as it is possible to be. But she's also brave, and clever, and kind. I think you'd like her." She paused, tipping her head back to let the breeze catch her hair, ruffling up her hair like her father's hand, like her mother's kiss. "I like her. But I'm afraid of her." 

With the words out in the open like that, they seemed very silly. She snorted. "I know it's stupid. But...hell, you both must have been afraid, right? You loved each other so much that you left everything else you knew. Sacrificed everything else you'd ever known. Each of your societies, and your collective society, combined. And you were happy. I saw it. I felt it." She drew a deep, shuddering breath. "I don't know if it's going to work out the same way for me, but you were right. What's life without a little risk, once in a while? And besides, I think...I think it might be time for me to move my roots somewhere else. For there to be a somewhere else for my roots to go. If there's a somewhere else left, after all my nonsense is through, anyway."

She brushed her fingers over the grave markers, over the words. They weren't here. Of course they weren't. They weren't sleeping forever in the dirt beneath her. Their ashes had been flung wide across these fields, over the place they'd chosen. It was the only place that had made sense to her. Give them back to the earth that had known such love, such care, from their hands.

They weren't here. But she felt them, anyway. The sharp edges of memory had faded, and she knew they would continue to crumble, but even when everything was out of focus, someday, she would still know them. Would know, always, what they wanted for her.

"You dreamed of bigger things," she said, her throat tight. "Guess I got it from somewhere, huh?"

Heartsore but decided, she stayed there, beside the markers, watching the stars, thinking. She wondered if they'd gone through this part, too. If, even when they'd decided, they'd been terrified out of their minds.

Probably. Probably they'd stayed scared for a long time. But it had been worth it.

She'd been there an hour, sore and tired and a little chilled, before she heard a voice call softly in the distance, "Adaar?"

Her heart spasmed painfully. She sat up a little from where she'd been slouched against the bench. The voice came again, closer this time, but the word had changed: "Herah? Are you out here?"

She steadied herself and called back, "Over here." She raised a hand, high enough to be seen above the grain in the slight glow of the lantern light, and waved.

Josephine emerged into the clearing, blinking a little; she carried her own lantern, but almost entirely shuttered, like Adaar's had been. She'd taken her hair out of all of its elaborate braids so that it fell, loose with waves, around her shoulders. There was a worried twist to her mouth, and Adaar felt a surge of guilt; she really ought to have told someone, anyone, that she was slipping away.

"Hammond told me you were probably out this way," Josephine said. Her eyes found the markers. "If I'm intruding—"

"Nah." Adaar waved this off. "I've been moping out here long enough. They'd want me to pull myself together."

Josephine offered a tentative smile, and sat on the ground, tucking her skirts beneath her, not terribly near Adaar but not terribly far, either. "I've never known you to mope."

"I wisely do it out of sight of other people, for the benefit of all." 

Josephine tilted her head a bit to one side. "Except you."

Adaar released a startled laugh. "How do you figure?"

Josephine looked to the markers, her eyes passing slowly over the letters. "If you mope alone, you have no one to comfort you."

"I suppose I'll have to carry on, then," Adaar said, "since you're here to comfort me."

Josephine gave her own breathless laugh, and offered her hand out, across the small distance between them. Adaar took it, intertwining their fingers.

Josephine looked up to the tree's canopy. "This is the oak?"

"Yes," Adaar said, unable to conceal how pleased she was that Josephine had remembered. "They added the bench, not long after they arrived. It felt like the right place for them, after they died. Sometimes, when I was a child, I'd wake up in the middle of the night, and I'd see this glow in the distance, beneath the tree."

"It sounds as if they truly loved one another." Adaar did not think she was imagining the wistfulness in Josephine's voice.

"It was embarrassing to me, back then. Now, I—I see how precious it was, what they had."

Josephine nodded, but didn't say anything more. They sat in a comfortable quiet for a little while; Josephine turned her face into the breeze now and then. The cozy, combined glow of their lanterns created a little pocket in this clearing, as if the rest of the world was held at bay by the shine, just for a little while. A secret, away from everything.

Adaar touched her father's gravemarker one more time, silently asking to borrow his courage. "Want to see the house?" she asked Josephine.

Josephine's face brightened. Surely she'd seen the shape of it as she'd walked past, searching for Adaar. Surely she knew it was nothing special. But she said, "Of course," as though delighted at the prospect.

Adaar got to her feet first, then helped Josephine up. They picked up their lanterns and moved away, back toward the path. As they walked, the backs of their hands brushed; Adaar took Josephine's hand this time, and she didn't pull away.

"Jana built her own place, a little further down the road," Adaar said, and pointed with her lantern past the closer house. Barely visible in the dark was another huddled shape among the fields. "She stayed in my parents' house, at first, but I think it felt too strange to her. Like I would have felt to keep living there, almost."

"Among memories," Josephine said.

"Right. But she comes through every month or so, dusts, airs the place out. I was never able to give much notice before I passed through."

"She wanted you to have a place to come back to."

"Yes," Adaar said, and left it at that.

They'd reached the clearing, the yard; together, they stood before the darkened house. She hesitated, but only for an instant.

"Come see," she said, leading the way toward the door.

The inside was much as it had always been: there, the humble kitchen off to the right with its hearth, shutters closed tight over the windows; there, the old armchair her mother had once sat in to darn socks, where she'd nursed her newborn child; there, the door to a passageway that could barely be called a hall, and two more doors at the end of it, leading to the two bedrooms. One—Adaar's—had been an addition to the original house, built by her parents. Jana and some of the other villagers had helped.

Despite the frequent airing, it still had the faint scent of misuse, of absence. It had always smelled of something delicious, a warm crackling fire, the spring breeze, when her parents had lived. Now it seemed a painful, empty shell.

There was a faint creak; she startled and looked around. Josephine moved systematically shutter to shutter, throwing them open. The night air drifted in, chasing away the stillness of neglect. Josephine leaned against one windowsill with a sigh, the breeze tugging at her hair.

"It's peaceful," she said over her shoulder. "A good place to grow up."

"It was," Adaar agreed, putting her lantern down on the kitchen table beside Josephine's. "Not…not magnificent, or anything, but still good."

Josephine turned to face her with a frown. "Not everything needs to be magnificent."

"Peace." Adaar shifted uneasily. "I know."

Josephine leaned back against the windowsill, her expression softening a little. "What's troubling you, Herah?"

A little of Adaar's anxiety melted away at that gentle voice, speaking her name. She took in a low breath. "You were right," she said. "I was afraid. I am afraid."

Josephine took a hesitant step closer. "Of what?"

"Oh, lots of stupid things." Adaar rubbed at her forehead. "That your family won't approve. That people will make snide remarks to you. That you'll have to work harder to extract what we need from our allies. That it will all add up, in the end, and we'll see that this was doomed from the start, and have only bitterness left for each other."

"Small worries," Josephine said, teasing but not dismissive. "Do not doom us before we've even had the chance to begin."

"You really don't worry about that? Any of it?"

"I can refute your points one by one, if you like."

Adaar gestured for her to go on. "Convince me, Ambassador."

She liked the coy little smile that came onto Josephine's face at those words. It was wonderfully distracting.

"My family, whenever we choose to make public declarations, will be all astonishment," she said thoughtfully. "Scandalized, but delighted. I've always been the pragmatic daughter, with no tendency toward feelings or frivolities. It will be such a relief to them that they'll hardly register who I have chosen, and when they do, they'll fall over themselves thanking you."

Adaar couldn't help but chuckle. Josephine smiled a little wider and continued.

"I have no fear of snide remarks. Frankly, the topics for condescension have been a little stale lately; perhaps this will liven them up. Besides, I have an arsenal of my own. I'm always looking for an excuse to use them. As for our allies...well, turnabout is fair play. They are hiding plenty of things that they think are salacious. I'm not above leaning on those secrets a little harder."

"You make interesting points," Adaar allowed. "And these?"

She unsheathed her daggers, dropping them one by one to the kitchen table. Josephine came forward, stopping just short of Adaar. Lightly, she touched one blade.

"You saved my life with these," she said softly. "You use them to great effect, never without thought, usually in the name of protecting others. But you have not fooled me into thinking they define you. They are only a part of you."

She looked up at Adaar; Adaar looked back, torn, wanting.

"That's the thing," she said. "It used to be simple, and now it's hideously complicated. If I went back to the Valo-kas, I wouldn't fit. Even coming back here, I don't fit. And I don't think I've quite made the leap to your world, either."

"And you don't need to. There is no my world. I do not have the authority to offer you something so abstract. There is just me. For now—to start—I would just ask you for a little time."

Josephine slipped a hand into the pocket of her dress, withdrawing a small, beautiful wooden box, polished to a high shine; even the golden hinges gleamed. She took Adaar's hand, turned it palm-up, and placed the box there. It fit neatly.

"What's this?" Adaar asked, momentarily thrown.

"A gift." Adaar got the feeling that Josephine had bitten her tongue on, Obviously.

"What for?"

She actually rolled her eyes, contrast to her fond smile. "As if you've ever made an excuse for the trinkets you give to me." At Adaar's raised brows, she huffed and said, "Very well, it is technically thanks for helping me with the House of Repose. In reality, though, I commissioned it as soon as you showed me the sketch."

"The sketch?" Adaar repeated, completely bemused now. "What sketch?"

"Open it and see."

Careful not to leave any marks in the varnish, Adaar opened the box. Nestled on a bed of dark green velvet was a delicate hourglass, gleaming in the faint light.

"I'm afraid I could only replicate one of the materials closely," Josephine said. Adaar lifted the dainty golden chain with numb fingers. "Wood, from a tree in Antiva. On the Montilyet estate, in fact. I'm certain it's not the same tree, but based on the sketch and the notes, I believe it's the same species."

Adaar could not have replied even if she'd known what to say; her tongue, usually so given to trip ahead of her thoughts, lay useless in her mouth. All the hair on her neck, her arms, stood on end. A ghost had walked right through her.

"And the gold your father used," Josephine continued, "that, of course, is irreplaceable, but the Valo-kas donated some for the purpose. The sand...Par Vollen is well out of even my reach, but I had some gathered on the shores of Haven. I remember…" Here, at last, she hesitated. "You seemed at home there. More so than in Skyhold. I thought you might like to carry it with you."

"You had the sketch in your hand for all of a moment," Adaar said, finding her voice at last. "How did you...it looks just like…"

"I have a good memory," Josephine said, with a modest smile. 

"I…" Adaar shook her head. "I don't know what to say."

"I have achieved the impossible. Herah Adaar, speechless." Some of Josephine's delight faded. "I hope I haven't overstepped. You do like it?"

Adaar held the hourglass out to Josephine. "Help me put it on?"

Josephine took it, plainly relieved. With deft fingers, she loosed the clasp, then fastened the chain around Adaar's neck; Adaar could feel her breath, just briefly, against her skin. She arranged the hourglass carefully, letting it fall into the V of Adaar's shirt, a little cool against her skin.

"I don't know how I'll ever repay you," Adaar said hoarsely.

"There is nothing to repay. This is a gift without strings. Though perhaps it lends a little weight to my request." Finally, Josephine's voice showed her nerves; it trembled a little. "I only ask for the next turn of the hourglass. That you set aside what you think might come, what might happen. Be with me, and when the sand runs out again, we will take stock of where we stand. Please?"

Adaar scraped a hand through her hair, driving the loose strands back from her face. "As we've established already, I can't say no to you."

Josephine's eyes gleamed. "That's not the same as saying yes."

There was not so much distance left between them now; Josephine had worked at it, chipping away right under Adaar's nose. The last of it fell away as she cupped Josephine's chin in her hand and bent her head to press her lips to Josephine's.

There had been a desperation, a stolen quality, to those other kisses—like a woman taking panicked gulps from the paltry spring she'd found in the desert, afraid that she would never drink again. But this was another thing entirely, a slow delight, something to be savored. She took her time, teased apart Josephine's lips with aching slowness, tangled her hand in Josephine's half-undone hair, lost herself in the sound of pleasure Josephine made in her throat.

When they parted, she drew just enough air to say, emphatically, "Yes."

Josephine did not wait for any further explanation; she, like Adaar, seemed to have decided that the time for conversation was past. She went up on tiptoe to kiss Adaar again, and Adaar picked her up to make it easier for her, arms tight around Josephine's waist. Josephine gave a breathless laugh of delight against her mouth. 

Adaar would still worry, she knew. But for now, she would set the trappings of fear aside. She would see where this turn of the hourglass took them.

[shrinkynatural]

(The Witcher) Ficlet: Minigiant!Geralt and the bard who is not sick, no, seriously, Geralt, he’s fine!

Previous parts in the series: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) I will make a proper tag for this soon, I swear.

And a note I made in an ask yesterday and figured I should clarify here, these are all set so far around the first few years that Jaskier and Geralt know each other. That makes Jaskier between 18 and 22 as he is in this piece. They kind of jump around and they aren’t in order.

Anyway, on with the fic!

--

It starts with an annoying case of the sniffles when Jaskier wakes up one morning, the air being particularly damp this time of year and camping out three nights in a row didn’t help. He shakes his hand through his hair to get rid of the dew that collected there, sniffling and coughing a bit to clear the heavy feeling in his nose and throat.

Geralt is across the camp, sitting cross-legged and eating the last of the fruit they’d foraged the day before. He’s paused with a bruised apple halfway to his mouth and he’s watching Jaskier with a surprised and suspicious look, which the bard just waves away.

“Bit of a morning frog, don’t give me that look,” he chides, voice a little hoarse yet. “I’ll be right as rain in an hour or two.”

And he is, being upright and moving will have cleared his head and by midday Jaskier is strumming his lute and singing away as they walk. Geralt puts it out of his mind and is soon distracted by the village they’ve finally arrived at.

He hates the settlements of men, tiny buildings cramped together containing tinier people. People give him a wide berth when he leads Roach between those buildings but children tend to get too close if they aren’t held tight by their parents. Geralt walks slowly, watching his feet and Roach’s hooves. It helps that Jaskier has taken to walking a few paces ahead of him, arms waving and taking up more space than he should.

For all that Jaskier’s talking about a nice hot meal and a nice and comfortable bed he leads the way straight to the noticeboard. He scans it and makes idle commentary even as Geralt walks up behind him and looks for something useful as well. Nothing here.

“Ah well,” Jaskier sighs, leaning back against Geralt without caution or care. “Looks like it’s my turn, doesn’t it? We have enough coin to stay the night and if they’ll let me play I should be able to earn it back and more. I can debut my new song about you and the ghouls! I worked on it all winter, you’re going to love it.”

He does not love it, it’s exaggerated and twisted to just barely teeter on the edge of truth. The crowd does love it, all their attention on the bard as he weaves the story around them. There are gasps and clapping to the chorus and not as much coin as they hoped but it was still a success. There are still wary looks Geralt’s way but at least no one decides to be ‘brave’ and confront him with their opinions.

They meet back in the tavern for breakfast that morning and Geralt can hear that frog in Jaskier’s throat again. He’s drinking a steaming, herbal beverage from a small cup and he obviously isn’t enjoying it from the face he makes every time, but he waves off Geralt’s concerned look.

“Just overworked myself a bit last night, it happens.” He smiles a bit and hides it quickly with another sip. “Looks like I’ll just have to practice more often.”

Geralt gives him a look but the arrival of his breakfast distracts him from anything he might want to say to that. Breakfast is rather quiet with Jaskier focused on his tea and for once Geralt decides to fill the silence.

“How much coin did you get last night?” he asks, because a practical question is the easiest to ask. “We should restock on supplies before we leave, the settlements are rather far apart in this area.”

Jaskier smiles and his voice cracks when he goes to speak. The bard makes an annoyed face and holds up one finger as he takes another drink, then clears his throat. It sounds wet and thick but Geralt supposes that’s just the tea. “I made back what we spent and then some, like I said I would. We can easily pick up supplies before we leave. And maybe some treats as well, we passed the baker’s on the way here and, Geralt, I’m telling you there are things sweeter than bread baking in there.”

“Maybe. It’s still early in the year, we should be saving for emergencies.” Geralt holds his free hand out for the coin purse, not even twitching at the disappointed whine Jaskier lets out. “Stop that, I promised your mother--”

“It’s spring! I’m not going to starve in spring! And I already gave you my allowance, you brute,” Jaskier protests. He still reaches to his side and grabs the decently heavy pouch, handing it over.

He knows how much they still have on them, all the way up to and including the breakfast they’re eating now. Coin is important to Witchers, something he doesn’t think Jaskier’s quite felt the reality of in their months of travel together the last three years. Or maybe he forgets, because to him security is only a letter home away.

They have enough for supplies and Jaskier buys a tin of that tea and Geralt allows him to buy one sweet from the baker’s. He splits it between them despite Geralt’s protests.

Over the next few days Geralt becomes very closely acquainted with the smell of that tea. Jaskier drinks it first thing in the morning, when they stop for lunch, and when they make camp for the night. It seems to help the thickness in his throat in the short-term, but after a couple of hours he’s having to clear his throat often and occasionally even cough.

Before Jaskier had insisted on singing as they walked, but soon he was only strumming his lute and eventually not even that. He would sing when they made camp, but now he was out of breath before he’d get through a couple of verses. Any time Geralt would comment on it the bard would dismiss his worries, saying it was only a little cold. An annoying thing, but not a threatening one.

But then Jaskier started sleeping restlessly. And took longer to wake up even though they had barely finished dinner before he was climbing into his bedroll.

He walked slower.

He didn’t sing or strum his lute.

He didn’t tease Geralt or try to sneak Roach treats.

He didn’t talk at all.

And still Geralt’s concerns were waved away with the less and less reassuring reassurance that it was only a cold and would pass.

He wasn’t stupid; he’d been human once, he’d had a cold…probably? It was difficult to remember. But Geralt has been around a long time and he’s seen people recover from these things and more often drop dead of them as their body drowns them in their sleep.

He doesn’t sleep when they camp for the night, choosing to meditate with the sound of Jaskier’s rattling breathing and weak snores taunting him. By morning he’s made the decision and before Jaskier wakes Geralt packs up most of their camp and makes him his tea. The bard doesn’t stir even when he deliberately makes noise, leaving him to go over and nudge him awake himself.

The cough Jaskier lets out when he goes to speak is awful and he scrambles for his handkerchief, one of many they’ve washed multiple times over the last week. Geralt doesn’t say anything, just passes him the cup and makes him drink. Even swallowing looks painful for Jaskier now and that only supports his decision. While the bard drinks his tea Geralt starts picking up their packs and supplies, only instead of placing them on Roach they go around his shoulders, over his back.

“You’ll ride Roach today,” he says it casually despite the wide-eyed look it gets him. Not once in the three years they’ve known each other has Geralt let Jaskier ride Roach when he wasn’t bleeding or otherwise injured. “There should be a village within a day’s walk and we’ll make it there faster if you ride. We’ll stay there until you’re better.”

He turns away before Jaskier can protest and puts his bedroll across Roach’s back, hoping it’ll help to cushion and steady Jaskier for the day’s ride ahead. He might have to walk alongside him to keep him steady. When Geralt’s done he goes back to put out the fire and collect the cup from Jaskier, tucking it away in one of his bags and rolling up his bedroll next. Jaskier tries to do the job himself but Geralt’s quicker and he’s tying it closed before the bard can make the croaked protest.

“Ger’lt, ‘m ‘ine,” he declares, voice barely more than breath on the wind. “I ‘nt ‘low ‘s dow…n.”

“You have been,” Geralt counters bluntly and doesn’t flinch at the hurt look Jaskier gives him. He does sigh. “Jaskier, you’re sick. You need rest. Warmth. Safety. You’ll get that in the village, not out here. We tried it your way and now it’s my turn.”

He holds out his hand and after a stubborn moment Jaskier takes it so he can help the bard to his feet. They go over to Roach and Geralt can see Jaskier hesitating over just how he’s going to get up onto the massive pack horse. There’s no way he has the strength or the breath for that so Geralt just gets behind Jaskier and settles his hands on the bard’s slender waist, then lifts him up easily so that he can get his leg over Roach and then carefully sets him down.

“Is that comfortable? I have no saddle, but the bedroll should be enough padding.” He steps forward, tugging at the front of the bedroll to straighten it and then looking up at Jaskier. The man’s cheeks are red and Geralt hopes that isn’t an indication of a fever.

“’S ‘ine,” Jaskier breathes, his hands fluttering around before grabbing onto the bedroll with one and Geralt’s shoulder with the other. It startles them both for a moment since they’re rarely so close in height like this. “Bit…un’teady.”

“I’ll walk alongside, just keep your hand on my shoulder,” he instructs him softly, and then he’s gathering up Roach’s lead and they’re off.

Travel does go faster once they figure out the right pace and Geralt rests his free hand on Jaskier’s back to keep the bard from listing away. It’s not comfortable and after a couple of hours when they take a break to get Jaskier some water he gives Geralt the most pathetic look.

“C’n’t…car’y me?” he asks, tiredly stretching his legs out and bending his knees.

It would be easier, but more dangerous along these roads. Geralt would be lying if he said he hadn’t considered it, as much as he’s always made a fuss about the bard climbing him like a child scaling a tree. “I need my hands free in case we run across trouble. I can drop the gear, I won’t drop you.”

Jaskier’s eyebrows go up and his lower lip wobbles just a bit. “’hat’s so ‘weet.”

“It’s practical,” Geralt corrects with a roll of his eyes. To keep the bard from waxing even more poetic and straining his throat worse he reaches down and lifts him up into his arms so he can take him back to Roach.

Even with the regular stops to give Jaskier rest and drink water or tea they make good time to the village. The bard is a half-asleep, miserable, moaning mess but he does try to temper his dramatics once they start walking past people. Geralt always draws looks wherever he goes so it isn’t difficult to get someone to point him in the direction of the inn. It has a stable attached, thankfully, and he goes there first.

The stable boy stares up at him with wide eyes but he takes Roach’s lead and the coin Geralt passes to him without a fuss. Children are always more fascinated than scared of him. The sight of a massive, terrifying Witcher gathering a grown man into his arms probably helps lessen the intimidating image.

“Is he going to die?” the boy asks, looking from Geralt to Jaskier and back with that typical fascination with the macabre that children have.

He scowls at him, only trying to lessen the severity of it when the boy steps back. “It’s only a cold, he just needs to sleep.”

The stable boy nods, then as Geralt turns away says, “The baker’s mum had a cold last year, only it made her lungs rattle and she drowned for three days.”

This time Geralt doesn’t even attempt to rein in the glare he sends the boys way, darkly satisfied with how he pales and hurries Roach into the stable. He holds a barely mumbling Jaskier closer and strides to the inn. He has to duck through the doorway and as always his presence brings the early dinner crowd to a screeching halt. The innkeep behind the bar looks like he wants to say something, likely turn him out, but his eyes land on the bard in his arms and the confusion causes him to hesitate long enough for Geralt to speak.

“He needs a room. On the ground floor.” He makes sure to leave no room for argument in his tone, and the man just nods and stammers out the price--one that’s pretty fair as well. Geralt shifts Jaskier to one arm and grabs his coin purse, fishing out the correct amount and pushing it across the bar.

He picks up the pouch again and follows the innkeeper through the still staring crowd and down the narrow hallway to the room. Geralt has to hunch over and curl his shoulders in and they still brush either wall. He keeps Jaskier close so he doesn’t knock his head or feet against the walls either and it’s a relief to be shown into the room. It’s narrow as well but a damn blessing compared to the hallway. There’s a pallet against one wall he can set Jaskier on and enough room for Geralt to sit and stretch out his legs on the floor next to him, so that’s what he does.

Jaskier lets out a whiny, pathetic noise as Geralt sets him down and he has to take the bard’s hands and pry them off of him. His eyes are closed and his cheeks are flushed and he really hopes Jaskier hasn’t gotten a fever. He removes his boots and covers him in the bedroll not soaked in horse sweat, and once he’s settled Geralt starts to remove all of their travel gear to find the tea. He’ll have to go ask the innkeeper to let him brew some, and maybe he’ll ask if there’s a healer or someone willing to sell him more in the village.

It’s a slightly unsettling feeling to get up and leave Jaskier in the room, but Geralt tells him where he’s going and promises to be right back. He sighs and pushes again through the too-small hallway into the dining area. Everyone hurriedly turns back to their meals like he wouldn’t notice they were watching his door. He hates villages, he hates being stuck here. He carries the tin of tea up to the bar where the innkeep is waiting, a startled look on his face like he hadn’t expected the witcher to reappear so soon, and sets the tin on the stained plank of wood.

“I need to make this. Do you have soup?” Geralt watches as the man looks at the little tin as though it might up and attack him, then turns that same look on him.

“Ah, yes, yes--well, it’s a stew,” the man corrects himself, then holds up his hands. “But we can thin it if you like! Two bowls?”

Geralt thinks on it and looks into his coin purse, mentally calculating the cost of being here until Jaskier is well enough to travel. It doesn’t help that he isn’t sure how long that will be so it’s best to err on the side of caution. He still has plenty of rations in his pack, better to leave the coin for Jaskier and Roach.

“One bowl. And the tea.” He places the coin down and puts the pouch away. “His throat is sore, taking his voice, and he has a cough that started in the mornings but lasts all day and night now. We’re just here until he’s better.”

It’s meant as a reassurance and it works, the innkeeper and the general feeling of the room relaxing now that they know what’s going on. The man takes the coin and the tin and disappears into the kitchen, leaving Geralt looming at the bar and waiting.

“Are you that White Wolf then?” one of the patrons asks, breaking the silence and making a few people around the room jump. “Geralt of Rivia?”

“Not the name I know him by,” another one murmurs, hurriedly looking down at his bowl when Geralt turns to look at them.

“That lad must be the bard then,” the first continues, clucking his tongue. He’s quite advanced in his years, a sun-wrinkled face and a barely there fluff of white hair around his ears. Too old to put effort into fearing anyone or anything. “Pity he’s sick, I’ve heard a couple of his songs when I go to the nearby town for market. I thought you’d be taller. Maybe when he’s better he’ll give us a performance, eh?”

The absurdity of…all of that makes Geralt huff in what would almost be laughter. “He likes to exaggerate. And he might give a show, if we can stay that long.”

He adds the last like an afterthought, thinking Jaskier would be proud of him for even attempting the lament like the bard so often does. It even works, with the man waving a hand like witchers--especially one specific witcher--don’t get run out of towns and villages on the regular.

“Plenty of work to be done this time of year,” he tells Geralt. “Might not be the big monster slaying you’re used to, but it was a harsh winter. And there are a lot of fences need fixing in the fields and the roof of Henry’s barn sunk in after a heavy snow. Can start as early as tomorrow morning, no sense wasting time.”

Geralt nods, easily not looking as smugly pleased as he feels. “I’m willing to help.”

There are a few murmurs and nods from others in the room and he’s saved from more conversation by the innkeeper coming back out from the kitchen. He’s carrying the tin and a bowl of thinned stew that he sets on the bar.

“Tea’s steeping, I’ll have my wife bring it back to your room when it’s done.” He nods, and it’s as kind a dismissal as Geralt ever gets so he nods back and picks it up before heading back to Jaskier without a word.

He finds the bard much as he left him, eyes closed and lightly snoring. Geralt would like to let him sleep but Jaskier hasn’t eaten much the last couple of days because of his throat, and Geralt’s poor excuse for a rabbit stew will hardly compare to the richness he can smell coming from this bowl. He sets both down on a small table and kneels beside the pallet, rest one hand over Jaskier’s shoulder and giving him a gentle shake.

“Jaskier, wake up.” He tries to keep his voice low and soothing but even he knows it’s quite loud even so. As the bard said once when he was trying to make the witcher sing with him one night, he has a big voice befitting a big body and it’s such a damn waste that he rarely speaks.

The shaking only produces a wheeze from the bard and he tries to roll over on his side away from Geralt, but he’ll be having none of that and easily pulls him back.

“’o ‘way, sleep’ now,” Jaskier mumbles, half-heartedly swatting at Geralt’s hand. He cracks his eyes open to give him a glare that wouldn’t scare a kitten. “Ger’lt.”

“I brought you something to eat, and the tea will be ready soon. You need to sit up,” Geralt explains, hoping the promise of food and tea will tempt the bard into rising. It does, with some help and grabbing the other bedroll to stuff behind his back so he can lean back against it.

He turns to grab the bowl and when he turns back Jaskier’s eyes are slightly more clear. He’s looking around the room in confusion and embarrassment starts to creep into the expression.

“We made it to the village. Yes, I carried you in. Eat the stew before it gets cold and unpleasant and we’ve wasted coin.” There’s a touch of embarrassment in Geralt’s tone as well, rising up when Jaskier turns surprised eyes on him as he speaks. He gets that damned dewy look on his face and Geralt pushes the bowl at him before he can try to speak and hurts his throat more. “Eat, bard.”

Jaskier reaches for the bowl with a wide smile and takes a sip, eyes closing and letting out a rough little sigh. After that he takes the spoon and takes more, sticking mainly to the broth and only occasionally tackling a piece of meat or a vegetable. Satisfied that he won’t drop the bowl Geralt sits back against the wall and pulls over one of their bags, taking out some dried meats and a few edible leaves from their rations.

Geralt eats contentedly, mindful not to get too relaxed in this place in case attitudes turn, and it takes him a moment to realize that Jaskier has stopped eating. He looks over and the bard is giving him that weepy look again, eyes flicking from his stew to Geralt’s rations.

“No,” he states firmly before Jaskier can travel any further down whatever mental rabbit hole he’s thinking himself into. “You will eat all of that and you will rest and get better. We are not so low on coin but I want to be careful so we can stay here as long as we need.”

Jaskier still opens his mouth to protest but Geralt just sits forward, plucks a soft bit of parsnip from the stew and shoves it into the bard’s mouth.

“No talking,” he scolds, ignoring the absolutely indignant look Jaskier is giving him right now. “The people here have heard your songs, they want a performance when you’re better. Would you disappoint them after they’ve helped us? I didn’t even have to struggle for a room or food for you here.”

That gets Jaskier’s attention, first excitement at being recognized and second surprise and delight at their reception of the witcher. He nods and performs the best motions of a bow to Geralt that he can while sitting before going back to his stew.

The bowl is nearly empty when Geralt hears footsteps coming down the hall. They stop in front of their room and there’s a moment’s hesitation before the innkeeper’s wife knocks.

“Come in,” Geralt calls as softly as he can manage, and the door opens to admit an older woman carrying a steaming mug.

“Oh, good! He’s up and eating!” she coos, momentarily distracted from her anxiousness. Jaskier has that effect on people, especially when he makes his eyes big and gives that crooked smile like he’s doing right now. He holds up the nearly empty bowl and nods, making her smile back. “Thank you, I’m glad you like it. Now I’ve got that tea the good witcher asked us to make for you; it’s a good mix, our herbalist has one much the same and others, too. She’s asleep already by this time of day but tomorrow I suggest you get something proper that’ll help clear up that cough of yours.”

She moves to walk into the room but hesitates at Geralt’s outstretched legs that take up nearly all the free space of the room. He hurries to pull them in, clearing a path to the pallet where she hands the tea to Jaskier and takes the bowl in its place. The endearing smile is still on the bard’s face but he can see his lips twitching even as he nods again and mouths a ‘thank you.’

“All right, don’t either of you hesitate to ask for anything while you’re here,” she says, nodding to both of them as she quickly steps back to the door. “We’re looking forward to hearing some good music around here when you’re better. And Master Witcher, Leo said he’ll see you outside the inn at dawn if you were serious about helping with the barn and the fences. Have a good evening!”

She closes the door behind her when she leaves and Jaskier cracks, letting out a laugh that’s nothing more than a harsh rush of air. Geralt stretches his legs back out and just taps the side of the pallet with his foot, not wanting to make him spill any tea. It’s good to see him having the energy to laugh, even if it isn’t the same.

“Drink your tea, Jaskier,” is all he says in response to that bard’s humor. “And get some more rest, I’m going to check on Roach and make sure she’s settled in.”

Instead of listening, Jaskier is quick to put down his tea and make fluttering hands toward his bag on the other side of Geralt. He obliges and passes it over, watching curiously as the bard digs through it and lets out a wheeze that is supposed to be one of triumph? As he pulls out a small pouch and holds it out to Geralt. He takes it and opens in, the sharp, sweet scent of sugar hitting his nose.

“How are Lettenhove’s horses not all fat and toothless with how you spoil them?” he huffs, but he pulls it shut and keeps it in his hand. Jaskier just grins at him and presses a hand to his heart. “Drink. Your. Tea.”

He gets to his feet while Jaskier takes a very deliberate, overacted drink of the tea. Geralt huffs back at him and resists the urge to reach out and give him a little shove like he normally would. He leaves the room, careful to make sure the door is firmly closed behind him, and walks past the now more crowded room to the exit.

As glad as he is to get Jaskier that room Geralt feels a rush of relief once he’s outside. He can stand to his full height and he rolls his shoulders as he walks to the stable. The mouthy stable boy is a good kid, Roach is brushed down and has fresh water and hay in her stall and she has that heavy-lidded look that only comes from a good meal after a long day.

“You did a good job today, girl,” he tells her, reaching out to brush his fingers over her nose. She pushes into the touch and he allows himself a small smile. “I’m proud of you, I know you don’t like carrying a rider but you did what you had to. I promise we won’t let it get into his head that he’ll get to do that all the time.”

He brings up the small pouch of sugar and rolls his eyes as her ears prick forward and she stretches her neck out to get at it. He nudges her head to the side with his free hand and steps back so he can pull it open, tipping a couple of the crumbled cubes into his palm.

“Easy,” he soothes, holding out his hand flat for her to eagerly lip up the treat. “There you go. We’ll be here a few days at least so you’ll get some rest, but we’ll go for a walk around the village tomorrow. You can stretch your legs and I can make sure broken fence posts are the worst thing this place has to offer.”

Geralt spends more time than he means to out there, but he’s only had a year with this Roach so not long at all. She’s proven to be a smart and faithful companion so far and for hopefully many years to come. He pats her again and tells her good night, pausing when she reaches for him and indulging her with more pets. She’s certainly one of the most affectionate Roaches he’s had over the years.

“I’m sleeping with Jaskier tonight, much as I’d rather be out here,” he tells her with a little sigh. The stall right next to her is empty and wide and so damn inviting. “But someone has to keep an eye on him, and I can take a cramped room for a few nights if it means he doesn’t drown in his sleep. He doesn’t deserve that, the little bard’s survived the Path with me for three years now. I can watch over him for a few nights.”

He brushes his fingers through her forelock and bids her good night, then goes back to the inn. The sun has finished setting and the tables are packed with people getting a drink after a hard day of work. They stare when he walks in, of course, but the innkeeper and a couple of men who were here when he arrived just nod to him and no one says anything. Geralt makes it back to their room in peace and feels relieved when he closes the door behind him without incident.

It’s dark in the room, not a problem for the witcher, and Jaskier is safe where he left him on the pallet. The bard is dozing again but he rouses as Geralt walks to his previous spot, this time settling into his familiar meditation pose.

“Ger--” Jaskier starts and has to clear his throat, the hoarse drag of phlegm unsettling in the silence.

“It’s me,” Geralt confirms, not wanting the bard to keep speaking. “Go to sleep.”

But of course he’s stubborn, pushing himself up onto his elbow and staring in his direction. “’eeping ‘here? Ro..ach?”

“Sharing a room costs less coin--don’t argue,” he says firmly the moment he sees Jaskier looking fussy. “It’s not a problem.”

He can see the bard’s face twist into a scowl, likely remembering all the times that it has been a problem. In their time together Geralt has been vocal about how he hates inns; they’re never quiet enough for him to sleep and the rooms are always too small and the people smell irritates his nose.

“Jaskier.” Geralt lets his voice turn soft and Jaskier recognizes what that means. He can see the fight go out of him as he lies back down--with a scratchy huff, because he must be contrary. “Thank you.”

Jaskier flutters a hand at him and settles on his back, shifting to get comfortable. Geralt can tell he’s still fatigued from how quickly he drops off. He knows that sleep is important for the body to heal and he’ll make sure Jaskier gets that while they’re here.

[mypoisonedvine]

Helping Hand - Chapter 3 (Jaskier x Reader)

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2)

Taglist:  @100percentamess @mytinybaguette @platinum-meadow33 @wackiekebab @littlest-mushroom plus presumptuously tagging a few people who were interested @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @lilredbird101 @inmaidjan

Even though it’s been months since I started this series... even though no one’s requested Jaskier in forever... even though this is probably the least impactful thing I’ve ever written... I finished it!  I hope it lives up to all the waiting you poor people had to tolerate!

“Are you awake?” you heard Geralt’s voice somewhere far away.  You mustered all your energy to nod your head, but couldn’t open your eyes all the way.  You felt like you were somewhere between sleep and waking, and it made you unsure if this was actually happening or some strange dream.  “You’ve been asleep for nearly two days,” he explained. “Seems like the past week is finally catching up with you.”

You tried to speak but you were too weak, only soft groans emerging.

“Get some more rest.  Maybe you won’t remember this conversation when you wake up.  Maybe you won’t remember any of what’s happened…” he trailed off.

You fell back asleep, though you fought with all your might to stay awake.

~

You woke up and this time you actually felt well-rested, like you could just get up and walk around.  You didn’t quite yet, just savoring the feeling of satisfaction, something you had forgotten about from your condition.  You knew the curse had been lifted, it was like night and day with how you felt now.  

Of course, though your body was well, your mind was not so well.  You’d told Jaskier than you loved him, and hadn’t been around to hear a response.  Your odds didn’t seem so good though, with the whole ordeal of him being entirely sure that you were delusional.  Some of the things he’d said gave you hope, though.  It was all sort of a blur now- you remembered thinking that maybe he loved you, too, but you couldn’t actually remember why you’d thought that.  

There was a mug of water by your bed and you chugged it all in one go, so desperately thirsty after sleeping through the past few days.  You were thankful that this thirst could be quenched so easily: you wouldn’t take that for granted again.

You heard the sound of pacing outside the door, and just from the way the footsteps sounded, you knew it was Jaskier.  Geralt didn’t seem the type to anxiously pace, anyhow.

“Jaskier?  Are you out there?” you called out.  The footsteps stopped, but no answer.  You frowned.  “Let me try that again: Jaskier, I know you’re out there.”

The door opened and he peered in with a sheepish smile.  “Are you alright?” he asked, but before you could answer, he added “You look better.  Not so exhausted.”

“I think the curse lifted.  Actually, I know it did,” you told him.

“Oh, well, that’s-- good,” he stuttered.  He started to turn to leave.

“Hey!  Come back,” you instructed.  He turned back and you patted a space beside you on the bed for him to sit.  He looked a little pained but he did it.

“You’re feeling well then,” he continued.

“Yes.  I could probably sleep for another day if I wanted, but yeah, I feel… good.  Normal,” you told him.  He looked at the floor. 

“Yeah, I guess it really wore you out.”

You wore me out, in the best possible way, you replied internally.

“Mm-hmm,” you answered instead.

“You’re sure it’s gone?  You don’t… long for me?”

“If I do,” you replied softly, “it’s not because of any curse.”

He smiled weakly, as if you were making a joke.

“Right, well, anyways--” he started to stand up.

“You think I didn’t mean what I said.  That it was part of the curse, too,” you posited.

He sat back down but didn’t look at you.

“When I said that I needed you, I meant that.  And when I said that you were the best sex I’d ever had,” you tried not to blush as you remembered, “I meant that.”

“Well, it was only the best because you were all hopped up on magic,” he mumbled.

“No, Julian, when I said that… I was talking about the other time.”

He turned back to you with a raised eyebrow.

“The pub in Cintra.  That was the best,” you clarified.

You expected him to make some sort of statement on that but he was silent.

“And when I said that I loved you,” you continued, “it wasn’t the curse.  Saying it was how I broke the curse.”

“How long?” he asked, his voice coming out somewhat hoarse.  You swallowed.

“A long time.  I didn’t realise it until it was almost too late.  But a long, long time,” you sighed.

"Good to know," he said wistfully, looking out the window.

"You're not going to… say anything about that?”

“I want to let you rest,” he defended.

“I can’t rest until you tell me if you feel the same way,” you said sternly.  “I’m ready for the truth.  Even if it’s that you want nothing to do with me.”

He looked at you with wide eyes.  “Nothing to do with you?  You’re my best friend!”

“Isn’t that exactly why you don’t love me?”

He looked away, and you looked to the floor as well.  You just wished he would get it over with.

“After all this, I can’t believe that’s what you think this is about.”

You rolled your eyes.  “Damn it Jask, I really don’t have the energy for this crypticism, alright?”

“I love you.  Of course I do,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief, “did you… did you really not know?”

You had never been so ecstatic and irritated simultaneously.  “Do I look like someone in the know?”

He laughed.  “No, I suppose not.”

“Lay next to me, won’t you?” 

He slipped in under the covers next to you and your heart fluttered.  How had you managed to jump this man’s bones when now he made you feel like a ditzy schoolgirl?  Clearly the curse had dulled your nerves.

His arms wrapped around you and you tucked your head under his chin.

“It was awful to have you so close and know that it was all just a spell,” he sighed.  “Or, think that it was all a spell.  I mean, the sex was great, but I’m glad we can just talk for a bit.”

"Me too.  And it was awful to have you so close and know that it was all just a favor."

“I can’t believe you thought for a moment that I had altruistic motivations,” he chuckled.

~

The weeks went by quickly, and you were sure you’d never been so happy.  Not that Jaskier had that much competition to be your best boyfriend, with the resume of garbage you had behind you.

It was nothing like how you’d been when you were cursed.  He was sweet, attentive, and you actually had learned a little patience.  That said, you were getting a little antsy with the lack of intimacy.  Since your little love-confession-meets-fainting-spell, he hadn’t taken you to bed once.  You’d told yourself to just let it happen naturally, but you were starting to fear there was something wrong with you-- or him, but most likely you.

You really didn’t want to have a conversation about this, but you wanted to make sure everything was alright.  You still put it off for quite some time anyways.

You stepped into his room carefully, watching him pick at his lute, which he quickly set aside when he saw you.  He must have been able to tell instantly by your eyes that you were concerned.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” he asked as you took a spot beside him on the mattress.

“Jaskier, you’ve been a bit… distant,” you began.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “and I haven’t had sex with you.” You choked a bit.  “Er, yeah, I was getting to that part.  If you’re waiting for me to drag you into a closet,” you smirked, “I don’t do that anymore.  Reclaiming a bit of my former classiness.” “No, I just…” he sighed, “I’m not sure I can compete with… myself?” You gave him a confused look.

“You see, before, you were under the effects of this ridiculous curse and it made everything so great and, I’m just not sure I can do that all again.  I’d hate to disappoint you.”

You laughed at that suggestion.  “I wouldn’t worry about that.”

If telling someone not to worry about something made them not worry about it, the world would be a different place than it currently is.  However, it did soothe him a little; enough, even, to make love to you that night.

The way he touched you, without the fever, without the delirium... it was something entirely unexpected.  Every time you'd had him before, even the non-magically-enhanced time in Cintra, was at least somewhat quick and needy and fierce.  You'd loved that, but it made it easier then to run from your true feelings.  Now he was unraveling you with such delicacy that you were forced to confront the love you'd hidden for so long.

“Gods, I love you,” you groaned as if you couldn’t stop the words from spilling forth.

"Hmm, say it again," he requested softly.

"I love you," you whispered back.

He smiled-- no, beamed-- as he leaned down to kiss the shell of your ear.

"One more time, just for good measure."

"Jaskier, I love you," you whimpered, "and if you deny me your touch a moment longer I may lose my mind."

"I've seen you lose your mind," he recalled, “it’s gorgeous.”

“Sweaty, desperate and begging?” you grimaced.

“Exactly,” he smiled.  “But that’s not what I want from you now.  No begging.  I’ll give you what you need.  Don’t ask me for anything, please.  Just let me love you.  I’ll make it worth your while.”

You smiled.  “You’d better.”

[jemelle]

these are ties that bind (8/8)

fandom: criminal minds

rating: t

(chapter) word count: 1,465

story masterlist / all writing

you can also find this story on ao3!

summary: emily and hotch must pretend to be in a long-term relationship in order to foster carrie. shenanigans and serious conversations alike ensue. this chapter: two years later, a perfect summer evening.

a/n: when I started this fic in march, I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into. eight months and 50(!) pages later, here we are, and it has been such a pleasure to get to tell this story. thank you so much to everyone who has given tattb a chance. i’m endlessly grateful for your likes, reblogs, and especially your kind words.

this final chapter is lovingly dedicated to my sibling for beta-ing, to @ssa-lesbian​ for being there since day 1, and to @robins-gf​ for endlessly hyping this fic <3

epilogue.

The string lights Emily had hung made the backyard look like something out of a fairytale. The guests mingled together, drinking homemade punch and eating food from the grill Aaron was carefully tending.

It was a warm evening in August, a few days before Carrie’s eighteenth birthday. The air was humid and the occasional mosquito buzzed around the edges of the party. From the kitchen window, Emily could see Penelope and Spencer swaying slightly to the music while JJ and Morgan fought over a football that had appeared seemingly out of thin air. Rossi sat in a deck chair, watching the proceedings with an amused look on his face, while Will sat beside him, cradling Henry in his arms. Even Jordan was here, making conversation with Aaron as he slid burgers into buns.

True to Emily’s prediction, Penelope had been the first to figure them out. She swore she’d never tell how she connected the dots, but Emily suspected that Penelope regularly checked in on all of them in less than legal ways. Once Penelope knew, their cover was all but blown, so Hotch had convened an all-team meeting to break the news.

He and Emily had told them the story straight, so to speak. The team understood that they weren’t really in love, but neither Emily nor Aaron felt that coming out was necessary for the story. Emily had come out the next year anyway, telling everyone as they sat around a crowded booth in the same bar where she had first told JJ. Aaron, for his part, he had reassured Emily that he was content with just being out to her.

Two years later, Emily thought that they were doing pretty well. Not every day was easy, of course. Sometimes Aaron snapped and Emily swore and Carrie sulked and Jack sobbed, but those days were few and far between. More often, there were sad days, because nothing would ever really heal what had happened to Carrie. On sad days Emily or Aaron begged off work, watching terrible movies with Carrie until she had cried herself out.

Every year, the three of them flew out to Denver to visit Carrie’s family. The old lady who ran the florist nearest to the cemetery knew when to expect them by now, and Emily’s perfunctory refusal to accept the flowers she insisted on providing free of charge had become something of a routine. Carrie liked to visit the cemetery alone, and she often sat there for hours, seemingly lost in thought. After she was finished, she and Emily and Aaron would go visit her old friends, the ones who had turned up for her when she had expected to be most alone.

There was always a little part of Emily that was scared Carrie would leave them. She would decide that Denver was still her real home, or that she wanted to live closer to her aunt and uncle in Phoenix. Emily had long since promised herself that she would support Carrie in whatever she wanted to do, but that wouldn’t lessen the sting. Nothing like that had ever come to pass, but in less than a month, Carrie would be heading off to college. 

Emily knew that Carrie’s parents had emphasized the importance of college, and that she had been fighting with them about it the night they had died. When she first came to live with them, Carrie had wanted to re-join all the activities her parents had encouraged. It had taken time and a lot of therapy, but eventually she had realized that straying from her parent’s wishes wasn’t a betrayal, not when what they had wanted most was for her and Danny to be happy. 

When the time came for Carrie to apply to college, Emily and Aaron made sure she understood that they would be proud of her no matter where she went. In the end, Carrie had chosen the University of Virginia, promising to make the two-hour journey home often. Still, it would be strange to not have her around every day. Emily had gotten used to her snark and sincerity, the way she cut right to the truth every time.

Tonight, Carrie was standing in a corner, Haley by her side, both of them watching over Jack. Emily and Haley would never be the best of friends, but they had long since formed a truce, recognizing that they both wanted the best for their strange little family. Haley loved Jack, that much was obvious, and she treated Carrie like the big sister Jack had never had. She was happy to take them both when cases ran long, though Emily secretly suspected that was because Carrie was able to calm down Jack better than anyone.

Leaving the house, Emily made her way over to the snack table, setting down the bowl of pretzels she had been carrying. When she looked up, Haley was motioning her over, gesturing at her empty cup and then Jack in turn. As Emily reached their corner of the yard, Haley headed off to refill her drink, leaving Emily and Carrie to monitor Jack.

Without warning, Emily was overcome by a wave of emotion. This life still felt like a dream sometimes. Past Emily would never have believed that this was where her life would end up. After Italy, she had been so angry, and after Declan, so resigned. In her lowest moments, she had told herself that she would never deserve a family. Emily knew now that she had been wrong, that she deserved to love and be loved. She also knew how exceptionally lucky she was to have found this family.

“I love you, you know that?” Emily said, keeping her gaze fixed firmly on the party. If she looked at Carrie, there was a good chance she would cry. If anything could ruin the joyful mood of this evening, that would be it, even if the tears came only from a place of happiness.

“I know,” Carrie said, no trace of sarcasm in her voice. She took a slow sip out of the cup in her hand. In her periphery, Emily saw a single tear fall down Carrie’s cheek. “I know.”

When Haley came back, new drink in hand, neither Emily nor Carrie had looked at each other. She gave them a strange look before striking up a conversation with Carrie about what she wanted to study in college.

Emily bid them adieu and headed towards Aaron, the adoption papers burning a hole in her back pocket. They had applied for them months ago, but the envelope had only arrived a few days ago. Emily had snatched the letter from the mail as soon as it arrived, hiding it among her paperwork. The plan was to give them to Carrie on her birthday and let her make a decision about what she wanted. 

Unlike the thought of Carrie leaving, this decision didn’t feel Emily with dread. No matter what she chose, Carrie would always have them to come home to. 

She reached Aaron as he was finishing up making dinner, flipping the last of the burgers and sliding them into perfectly toasted buns. At his call, the guests flocked to the table, Spencer and Penelope almost tripping over each other in their haste to get food. After grabbing a plate, they dispersed once more, leaving only Emily and Aaron by the grill. 

A few months ago, JJ had asked Emily if she and Aaron would stay married after Carrie turned eighteen. Until JJ had asked, Emily hadn’t considered the possibility they wouldn’t, which she supposed was answer enough. That thought process would have been unthinkable two years ago, when begrudging respect was the only thing keeping them together.

They stood next to each other as they ate, watching the future they had built together. The lines around Aaron’s eyes were softer now than they had been two years ago, and he smiled more, though he was still tough-as-nails Hotch when he needed to be. At the end of a long day, or a tough case, the thing Emily looked forward to most was his companionship. He would sit with her at the kitchen table, or rope Carrie and Jack into a game of pictionary, somehow always anticipating what she needed. When she woke up thrashing, he was there, and when he couldn’t sleep, she sat up with him until his breathing evened.

Emily finished eating, setting her plate on the table behind her and wiping her hands on a paper napkin. Aaron mimicked her, then refilled his cup from the nearby punchbowl.

As he turned to her, Emily raised her own cup, bumping it against Aaron’s before taking a drink, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “So,” she said. “How about that divorce?”

tags: @robins-gf, @catgrantknows, @lizziechase, @blakes-dictionxry

[seventhfracture]

Fix ask

1—7

1: Is writing cathartic or stressful for you? Answered elsewhere

2: Do you focus on attention to detail when you read fics? Are you more or less attention to detail focussed when you write fics? Answered elsewhere

3: Do you have any upcoming WIPs? How far along are you with them? Okay so-- this is a little embarrassing but I rarely delete anything. I have so many attempted stories I have a spreadsheet to track them. And this is because some of my best stories I started, abandoned for 6 months and then returned to with a new focus.

I don't currently have a primary WIP. I'm in really early development for what my next project will be. I haven't even decided on a fandom.

But I have Death Note stuff pre-written until 19th October 2021 and Beastars until 2nd December 2021. So I've got time...?? Lol.

4: Tell me about one of your abandoned WIPs. Why did you abandon it?

Let's do one for each fandom! FFXV- I wrote a big vampire fic for this fandom but I also wrote like 30k on a werewolf AU set in a SPN style America. I just got stuck. Beastars- I've got like 12 chapters written for a modern fantasy AU where Legosi realizes he's a demi-god in a Greek style Pantheon of gods. Lots of social drama and politics. I wrote a lot of this fast and needed a break.

Death Note- I have an A/B/O WIP here where Light is an Omega. He's been hiding this since he presented. L realizes during his surveillance of Light's room and at the coffee date L says; "If you can pull off such a complicated, ongoing, lie. You could lie about being Kira." And Light has to reply; "That's my big secret. I'm a liar. I lie about everything. But I'm not Kira." So L decides: "Well, if you're such a skilful liar you could help give me some insight into how Kira's mind works anyway"

5: Share a snippet that you’re proud of from an upcoming fic/chapter.

"Promising Young Man" (Beastars) “So it is true!” A leopard laughs. “The Shishigumi is run by livestock now. I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it myself. Guess you lions don’t have any teeth anymore?”

Dolph cracks his knuckles, looming, but—

Louis puffs his cigarette, safe between Ibuki and Sabu, and points to the leopard’s wrist. “Nice watch.”

The carnivore hesitates, glancing over his wrist suspiciously.

“Rolex, but 2008.” Louis grunts. “When you boys get serious about making real money? Come give us a call. Our doors are always open to people who want to make something of themselves.” "Gag Order" (Death Note) Two months into their cohabitation Light slides a completed task across L’s desk and remarks;

“You know it’s the accountant, right?”

L pauses his typing.

“What makes you say that?” He glances up.

It’s a theory he’s been nursing but he doesn’t have any hard proof.

Light takes a pen and carefully circles two points of data.

He slides the papers back to L without another word and goes to sit back down.

L tilts his head almost ninety degrees and murmurs; “huh…”

It definitely is the accountant.

And this is the evidence he’s been looking for.

It’s obtuse and well hidden but…

“Good catch, Light.” L nods.

Light doesn’t reply.

He still doesn’t talk much.

6: What are some topics you will never write about? Answered elsewhere