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heyiwrotesomethings · 3 years ago

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Calling Out For Her

Cassandra Dimitrescu x She/Her Reader

A/N: Cassandra is my favorite I just love that girl. I thought it was real neat that Lady D could just call out for her and she’d appear so that inspired this. Some typical resident evil violence and language in here and Cassandra isn’t exactly nice at first, but she figures out how to be personable...kinda. Thanks for reading! Word Count: 6,158

(Y/n) was exceptionally careful. If tasked to understand what had allowed her to survive in the castle for so long, she would say it was because she was so careful, meticulous, with her work. All she had to do was follow a certain set of rules.

A polite tone brimming with reverence, ‘Yes Lady Dimitrescu’ or, ‘yes ladies Bela, Cassandra and Daniela’. Never a no, even if warranted, unless you want your eyes level with your toes and cool air meeting your stump of a neck. Always serve with a curtsy, never meet their eyes, never ask questions, keep your head down and clean, clean, clean like your life depends on it because like with everything else, it does.

The bottom line was that (Y/n) knew how to survive in the castle of Dimitrescu. It took tact, forward thinking, and a bit of luck. But today, after a very respectable nine months of service, (Y/n)’s luck had apparently run out. She had royally fucked up.

“Oh, fuck me—!“ (Y/n) hissed, followed by a sharp gasp as her grip slipped because of the dip of the chandelier.

She had no one to blame but herself. She had been assigned to clean the banisters and chandeliers of the foyer and had leaned out just a little too far with her duster. Thus, her scramble for purchase on the confounding light fixture to save her from cracking her skull on the marble floor below.

“H...help!” (Y/n) called, barely above her usual speaking tone. She dared not speak louder for fear of alerting any of the bloodthirsty daughters of her predicament. She could only hope one of her fellow maids was working nearby.

“No, nonono—“ the words left (Y/n)’s mouth faster than her lips could move. One of the metal weldings that held up the chandelier was creaking and becoming dangerously loose as time ticked by.

“Help!” (Y/n) called a little louder, the desperation bleeding into her tone as her fingers dug painfully into the decorative, jewel encrusted rim of the chandelier.

Yet still not a sound besides the creak of old metal giving way. Nine months of service to the Lady of the Castle and this was never how (Y/n) imagined she’d go. It wasn’t uncommon for some maids to take their life by their own hand, but (Y/n) wanted to keep fighting—!

“Ah!” (Y/n) cried sharply. The chandelier’s tether frayed a bit further, causing it to drop a few inches. She was fully panicking now, arms aching and chest heaving as she dangled. She made the mistake of looking at the cold, hard floor below and that only made her heart beat faster. She didn’t want to go out like this!

The chandelier fell another inch, stinging (Y/n)’s fingers. She was gripping so hard she was sure her fingers must have been bleeding. She needed someone, anyone to come and somehow in her panicked state, she thought of her Lady. If her Lady needed something done and done fast, all she had to do was call out her name and she would be there in an instant. Somehow in (Y/n)’s desperate mind, she thought that calling upon the most ruthless of the Dimitrescu Family was her best course of action.

“Cassandra!” (Y/n) yelled, closing her eyes tightly and fighting to maintain her precarious grip.

For a few seconds, there was just the creaking the chandelier and (Y/n) didn’t know whether to be relieved or devastated by the silence. Before she could resign herself to her fate, a faint buzzing could be heard below, growing in intensity until (Y/n) could see the swarm of blowflies collecting below her until they completely formed the middle Dimitrescu daughter. She looked up at (Y/n) with a sneer on her blood stained lips.

“Well, well, well. I must say that this is a first for me.” Cassandra hummed, a fist over her hip as she craned her head up, twisting this way and that to really get a good look. Yes, a maid hanging from a chandelier must have been a novelty to the monstrous woman indeed.

“Just how did you get into this predicament little mouse? Perhaps you are more of a monkey, hmm?” Cassandra giggled sadistically before idly licking the blood from her lips, smearing it around more than anything.

“I leaned too far over the banister while I was dusting.” (Y/n) explained through clenched teeth, trying to maintain her aching grip.

“Mmm, how clumsy of you.” Cassandra laughed again, moving her arms to rest across her chest, she propped her chin up in her gloved hand as she regarded (Y/n) with glee. “You know, I was going to skin you alive. You had called me away from cellar time after all, new arrivals are always the most fun to break. Not to mention that you, some lowly maid, think that I, a noblewoman of the House, am at your beck and call. Yes, I was going to kill you myself but now I’m curious,” Cassandra’s smirk widened to a full blown maniacal grin, “what will give out first? Your arms, or the chandelier?”

“Lady Cassandra, please!” (Y/n) wasn’t sure where she thought pleading would get her, but people will do all kinds of things they wouldn’t normally do under duress. Including begging a known sadistic killer to save them from certain death.

“Oh, she remembers her manners!” Cassandra mocked, “Do me a favor and just fall already. I fear I might be developing a crick in my neck.”

(Y/n) could feel the heat of incoming tears sting her eyes as she dangled several feet above her one woman audience. Well, no one could say she didn’t try. She started mumbling a little prayer for herself that turned into a yelp as the chandelier fell another half a foot, a much larger drop than the occasional two to three inches. The sudden gravity shift yanked (Y/n)’s hands clean off the chandelier, slicing her skin terribly as she tried to grab back on. She missed, she was falling.

(Y/n) couldn’t even scream, she just closed her eyes as tightly as she could and waited to meet the ground... speaking of which, shouldn’t she have hit it already?

(Y/n) peeled open an eye and slowly allowed herself to finally take in the buzzing that was surrounding her. Blowflies. She peered down past the swarm to see Cassandra, half formed with her arms outstretched, ready to receive her. (Y/n) could only stare, mouth slightly agape, as she was settled in Cassandra’s arms, watching the blowflies that had carried her mesh back into Cassandra’s legs.

“Why so surprised?” Cassandra asked with a mock sweetness that made (Y/n) shiver, “I simply couldn’t let you die just yet. No, I think I’d like to play with you just a little while longer.”

Cassandra happened to glance at the bloody hands clutched tightly to the maid’s chest and hummed. Adjusting her strong hold on the paralyzed maiden, she clutched the outermost wrist tightly and pulled it to her bloodied lips for a sample.

“Mm,” Cassandra appraised, passing her tongue over the cuts again, “yes, I think I’ll enjoy taking my time with you.” She cackled before unceremoniously dropping (Y/n) to the floor at a much safer, but still painful height.

“Go patch yourself up, my prey. You’re dismissed.” She said and then, she dispersed into a swarm of blowflies and was gone, her laughter bouncing off of the high ceilings.

(Y/n) sat on the floor dumbstruck, before finally getting up on shaky legs. She made her way to the maid’s quarters and upon seeing that it was empty, she allowed herself to cry as she cleaned and dressed her fingers. Lady Cassandra had saved her, saved her for a worse fate by her own hand no doubt. All she could do was wait.

***

Cassandra was a menace.

After the chandelier incident, (Y/n) found herself assigned to areas of the castle that Cassandra was known to frequent. There was never a minute’s rest when the middle child was free from her mother and sisters and even if Cassandra was occupied, (Y/n) often found herself nipped by the occasional stray blowfly as she did her work. There was no question in her mind where they had come from.

Yes, having caught Lady Cassandra’s eye had created a lot of extra work for the poor girl with extra antagonism. She’d poke and prod and pull, jostling (Y/n) around while she tried to stay on task. She would drag bloodied bodies through the carpeted halls (Y/n) had just cleaned and laugh as the poor maid went to restock her cleaning supplies. Cassandra would even demand (Y/n) drop everything to run her baths when she had grow tired of running around with blood smeared all over her like a toddler left alone with finger paints. She’d smugly present her bloodied face to (Y/n), silently demanding she wipe it clean for her and when she was satisfied, she would lean back in her tub and order (Y/n) to clean the bloodied weapons she’d drop dangerously close to her feet.

Cassandra was insufferable, yet, (Y/n) couldn’t help but think positively because it could have easily been much worse. For as taxing as dealing with Cassandra could be, she had never hurt her, not really anyway. Not like the poor maid who went to clean the armory and left with one less arm than she went in with. The occasional bite of a blowfly stung and the shoves and pinches could be bruising, but at least she still had all her limbs, no broken bones or sickle scars puckering her skin.

(Y/n) sighed to herself as she polished the same battle axe for the third time that week. She was the only maid allowed to clean the armory anymore after Bianca lost her arm. Lady Cassandra had said that only (Y/n) knew how to clean her toys with proper care and could make them twice as shiny and sharp. A few of the other maids would darkly joke with (Y/n) in the serving quarters about the middle Dimitrescu having a crush on her, but (Y/n) would simply dismiss their gossip and continue her work without complaint. Such rumors could be dangerous after all.

As (Y/n) heaved the axe back into its place on the wall, she heard the thrum of quick light feet running across the carpeted hall just outside. She frowned to herself, but kept working. Assuming it was just just another poor girl who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. However the door the the armory clicked open, and the slightly out of breath maid (Y/n) recognized as Moiara peaked in, flushed from all her running no doubt.

“Lady Dimitrescu is ordering all of the maids back to their quarters immediately.” The girl urgently informed.

“Whatever for?” (Y/n) asked, brows furrowed in concern. It was a most unusual order.

“Apparently a pack of Moroaica have escaped the cellar and are currently roaming the castle. The Lady’s daughters are hunting them down, but it could take some time to clear everything up. Lady Dimitrescu doesn’t wish to lose more workers than she can replace.” Moiara explained, albeit the last line came out a touch bitterly.

“I understand, I’ll make my way now. Be safe.”

“Thank you.” Moiara nodded before darting off again.

(Y/n) cautiously made her way to the door and peered down both ends of the hallway. Noting that it was clear, she left the doorway and shut the armory door before quickly walking in the direction of the maid’s quarters. It was quite a walk and (Y/n)’s heart went out to Moiara and the rest of the girls who were still scattered further within the castle’s walls.

The halls were eerily quiet and empty, not unusual, but with the added threat lurking, well, it made it a tad more unsettling. It was laughable really, for (Y/n) to be afraid now. The threat of death loomed over her head constantly and only now she was concerned?

(Y/n) chuckled despite herself as she rounded another bend, hardly checking her surroundings as she crossed the third hallway and then the fourth.

“Oh!” (Y/n) tripped on a raised wrinkle in the rug, her hand automatically grasped the curtain beside her to steady herself. She was lucky it didn’t rip or surely the Lady of the House would have her head, never mind the Moroaica.

As she made to steady herself on her own two feet again, the curtain she had grasped twisted harshly and was ripped from her surprised and slackened grip. (Y/n) felt her blood run cold and her feet turn to lead as the ‘curtain’ reached out for her, revealing rotten, gnarled fingers that snapped (Y/n)’s bicep in a firm squeeze. As it completed its turn, (Y/n) saw scraggly, yellowed teeth lunge for her neck.

She attempted to keep the stray Moroaica at bay. The whole interaction, frightening and life threatening as it was, was a near silent struggle. It was as if (Y/n) had lost her voice completely. All that came from her were stuttering gasps as the creature snarled and snapped at her.

It wrestled her to the floor and clawed at her clothes and skin, drawing the blood that it seemed to desperately crave. (Y/n) struggled and kicked at the creature but it was unrelenting and finally something happened that helped (Y/n) find her voice, she screamed.

The Moroaica clawed at her ribs, tearing fabric, skin and muscle alike. (Y/n)’s fighting grew weaker the more the monster dug at her and her mouth was still parted from her pained screams but they were now near silent croaks as the pain and blood loss threatened her consciousness. Seemingly noticing her weakened state, the Moroaica neared its yellowing teeth to her exposed flesh and—

“Oo, look Bela! I found another one~!”

(Y/n) reflexively closed her eyes and felt something hot and wet splatter across her face. She heard a squelching noise and felt dead weight fall against her body as Daniela’s giggles filled the hall.

“You shouldn’t be having so much fun.” Bela grumbled at her sister. “I knew mother should have sent you to your room. It would have been a more fitting punishment.”

“Okay, so maybe I forgot to lock the cellar, but you can’t say you aren’t having a good time as well.” Daniela said, grinning when Bela rolled her eyes, a small shadow of a smile forming on the eldest sister’s lips.

“Aw, look,” Daniela grunted, kicking at the dead Moroaica until its corpse rolled off of (Y/n), “well, let’s not let her go to waste. Her blood still smells good.”

“Wait, Daniela,” Bela said, holding her younger sister’s shoulder as she peered down at the bloodied maid her breaths coming raggedly as she fought to open her eyes. Bela sniffed and winced, shooting her sister a look.

“Daniela, take a closer look.”

“Ugh, fine,” the youngest groaned and leaned forward, “I don’t see why...” Daniela paused, her back went rigid. She just stared at (Y/n) for a few moments before finally turning to her sister, lips pursed.

“Cass is literally going to kill me.”

“You think?” Bela said, almost with complete disinterest.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Help me! If she dies, I die!” Daniela hissed, couching beside (Y/n) to assess the damage.

“I don’t know, I think I would kind of like to see Cassandra hunt you for sport.” Bela smirked.

“Bela!”

“Alright, alright.” Bela sighed, couching at (Y/n)’s other side.

The last thing the maid could make out before succumbing to unconsciousness was a dull, muffled buzzing and a feeling of weightlessness.

***

When (Y/n) awoke, she immediately noted that her throat was drier than a desert wind; her stomach and ribs also burned and itched like nothing she had ever experienced. She gingerly touched her stomach and found it covered in bandages. Her head ached so she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes for a few moments.

With great effort she hoisted herself into a sitting position and had to do a double take of her surroundings. This was not the maid’s quarters and given the amount of time she had been spending in here lately, she was quick to realize she was in Lady Cassandra’s room, in her bed. Before (Y/n) could really let it all sink in, the door was yanked open.

Cassandra stalked in, shutting the door tightly behind her before standing over (Y/n) with a fire blazing in her golden eyes. A blowfly (Y/n) had initially failed to notice crawled down the bedpost before meshing back into Cassandra’s body. Apparently she had been being watched.

“Why didn’t you call for me?” Cassandra gritted out, gripping the bedpost so hard (Y/n) was afraid it would splinter.

“Lady Cassandra?” (Y/n) questioned, still feeling numb and achy and not at all ready for such aggressive energy.

“Glad to know you still remember.”Cassandra said mockingly before her voice became low and serious again, “You were in trouble, why didn’t you call for me?”

“I don’t...” (Y/n) winced and held her head, it felt like she was on a boat in rocky waters.

Cassandra took notice and with surprising gentleness, lowered (Y/n) to rest fully against the bed once more. She even offered (Y/n) water and helped her drink. Then she checked her temperature, the cool touch of her skin felt wonderful against (Y/n)’s aching head.

“What happened?” (Y/n) murmured, whining when Cassandra went to remove her hand. A bit hesitantly, she put it back. A small, prideful smile curved at her lips when (Y/n) relaxed against her touch.

“Don’t you remember?” Cassandra scoffed, “I swear, you humans are so unbelievably fragile. You were attacked by a Moroaica that strayed from its pack. Bela and the idiot who caused the whole mess found you. I did some sucking up to mother and we fixed you up with a little herbal remedy,” Cassandra frowned her voice becoming a tad accusatory, “Yet you still slept for a long time.”

“I’m sorry to have been an inconvenience Lady Cassandra.” (Y/n) spoke up after trying to absorb all that Cassandra had told her. Surely it would have taken more than a, ‘little herbal remedy’ to fix what had happened to her.

(Y/n) scrunched her eyes shut when Cassandra suddenly growled and pinched the maid’s nose.

“I’m glad you realize it. Do you know how infuriating it is to watch another maid handle my weaponry all wrong? To not make my room the way that I like it? Ugh, I’d have killed them all if mother let me.” She let go of (Y/n)’s nose, swiping the side of her index finger playfully over the bridge a couple times before re-settling her hand over (Y/n)’s cheek.

“That’s why, when you’re all better, you are going to have to train one of those imbeciles how to do it right.”

“I can do it myself, Lady Cassandra. I can get back to work tomorrow I’m sure of it.” (Y/n) nearly pleaded. She was sure any girl she trained would end up killed anyway. There were too many little things that could set Cassandra off to count.

“There is no more cleaning for you. You’re retired.”

“Retired?” (Y/n) couldn’t help but gawk up at Cassandra. The notion was wholly unbelievable. No one retired from serving the Dimitrescus’ unless you counted dying as a form of retirement.

“Yes.” Cassandra said with near vicious finality.

“Lady Cassandra, my parents count on the lei I send them from my job here, please reconsider. There is no work for me back at the village and I’d just be another mouth my family cannot afford to feed.” (Y/n) beseeched, her body quaked with fever.

“Calm yourself.” Cassandra spoke as if attempting to be soft, but was still very on edge. “Your family will still receive money. You aren’t going back to the village.”

“I’m not?” (Y/n)’s brows drew together with further confusion, “but, then what will be my purpose if I’m not to work?”

“Does it really matter?” Cassandra flustered, a buzzing sound filled the space between them, “Your family is getting money and you don’t have to do anything for it, be grateful!” Cassandra pinched (Y/n)’s cheek a bit harshly before standing and stalking away. The buzzing following her as she tore the door open once more.

“I’ll be back with lunch.” The Dimitrescu grumbled before closing the door behind her once more.

“What is going on?” (Y/n) whispered to herself in disbelief before resting her head fully back against the pillow. She caught movement in the corner of her eye and turned her head just in time to watch a blowfly crawl back into the dark canopy of the bed.

***

(Y/n) wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Suddenly, she had all this free time on her hands and would for a long time apparently. It was nice when she was still recovering, but now that she had healed, she felt antsy.

Cassandra had handpicked a trembling maid for (Y/n) to train, but even those sessions did not last long as the poor girl, Anca was her name, was still expected to complete other chores. Something that did help to pass the time however was Cassandra herself, strangely enough. She was always the one to bring (Y/n) meals unless she was busy with some task her mother had given her, also giving (Y/n) little gifts and talking to her throughout each day. Sometimes the ‘gifts’ were gruesome and the talks seemed more like interrogations, but the effort in which Cassandra put into every interaction left (Y/n) intrigued with, and appreciative of the middle child.

Now wasn’t one of those times unfortunately, and (Y/n) found herself pacing the floor of her room, yes, one of her very own. Given to her by Cassandra right across the hall from her own. Now that she was well enough to do more on her own, she had been moved there about three weeks ago to have her own space. Another thing that was unheard of coming from the middle Dimitrescu. (Y/n) paused by the window to look out upon the snowy ground below.

“Miss (Y/n)?” A knock on the door, “May I speak with you?”

“Anca,” (Y/n) paused her paces, that was strange. There had been no plans for a lesson tonight. Nevertheless, (Y/n) was happy for the company. Ever since Cassandra had removed her from service, the other maids had avoided (Y/n) like a plague “please come in.”

The nervous little maid came in, closing the door tightly behind her, shoulders stiff as she slowly approached and took a seat in the chair (Y/n) offered to her.

“Are you alright? You’re shaking.” (Y/n) frowned, reaching out to comfort her only to watch Anca shrink away from her hand.

“Lady Cassandra,” she spoke, looking wildly around the room, “she will kill me I’m sure of it. What game are you playing?”

“Game? I’m playing no game.” (Y/n) tried to assure. “Has she said anything to you? I promise I’m covering every base I can—”

“You aren’t doing enough!” She screeched, startling the other. “I’ve seen the way she treats you. The privileges you’ve gained. This is all a set up! You were in my shoes not long ago, have you really lost your humanity so quickly?”

“Anca, please, calm yourself. I’m not working against you, I swear.” (Y/n) tried to explain. “Tell me what’s wrong, let me help you. How can I help you?”

“How?” Anca mumbled, rubbing at her dark rimmed eyes. “It’s all because of you that I’m in this mess to begin with!”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Anca.”

“No, I really don’t think you are.” Anca sniffed, rising from her chair. “But maybe there is something you can do to help me. I’m already dead, but I want to hurt Lady Cassandra before I go and I think I can do just that,” she pulled a knife from her apron, “if I take you down with me!”

“Anca!” (Y/n) screamed, stumbling away just before the knife could strike her.

“Just hold still! I’ll do it fast, please!” Anca cried as she swiped at her again. “Let me just have this one thing! This one last fuck you to this hell hole!”

“Stop! You’re making a mistake!” (Y/n) tried again, wrestling with Anca for the knife.

The scuffle went on for minutes before (Y/n) was thrown to the back wall, the knife missed her head just barely and sunk into the wood behind her. As Anca struggled to hold her in place and wedge the knife free, (Y/n) called out for her without even realizing it until the blood drained from Anca’s face.

“Cassandra!”

“No, shut up! Shut up you bitch!” Anca squealed, rocking the knife more vigorously.

“Cass—“ (Y/n) tried to call out again, this time fully aware of what she was doing, only to be head-butted by Anca in a desperate attempt to quiet her while she continued to work at the knife.

It was too late for that however, as proven by angry buzzing sounds roaring through the hallway and sliding under the door before forming right at Anca’s back, a cold hand joined Anca’s over the knife and grasped her so hard, (Y/n) could hear the maid’s fingers crack.

“You want this knife, do you?” Cassandra sneered, “Please, allow me.”

Cassandra tugged the knife from the wall like it had been warm butter, Anca’s hand still clenched in her own. She used her other arm to pull Anca off of (Y/n) with a rough tug and hardly took more than a few steps away before plunging the knife deep into the girl’s chest.

“There you go. You’re welcome you miserable little wretch.” Cassandra raked the knife downward, slicing Anca’s flesh all the way down to the hip as the poor girl screamed. “That will teach you to touch what doesn’t belong to you!”

(Y/n) could only watch, wide-eyed and trembling as Cassandra dissolved into her swarm, allowing Anca to fall to the floor before hundreds of little mouths began working at her flesh until the screaming ceased and all that was discernible was a frozen expression of agony on Anca’s face.

The blowflies came back together after a few more moments of feeding and Cassandra reformed, crouched beside (Y/n). (Y/n) didn’t even realize she had sunk to the floor during the gruesome attack.

Cassandra raised a blood covered hand to (Y/n)’s cheek, turning the face in her grasp, she assessed the damage, buzzing all the while. Somehow the sound felt, calming, reassuring. (Y/n) didn’t even flinch away from her touches and instead found herself leaning into them.

“Just look at what that thing did to you,” Cassandra hissed as she watched the blood leak from (Y/n)’s nose, “I should have killed her even slower.”

(Y/n) sniffled, leaning her head on Cassandra’s shoulder, “Thank you for coming.”

“I’ll always come to you if you call for me,” Cassandra sighed and pulled (Y/n) into her lap. She smelled almost overwhelmingly of blood, but (Y/n) couldn’t bring herself to care. “No one has ever called for me like you have before. No one that wasn’t my mother or sisters anyway,” Cassandra bit her lip, “I... at first, I was enraged that you called for me that first time, but the more I thought about it... Ugh! You made me feel all gross and buzzy inside. I’m just so used to humans fearing me, associating me with death. Never have I been called by one expecting to be saved from it.”

“Is that why you helped me after that Moroaica had attacked me?” (Y/n) asked, her voice still muffled by Cassandra’s shoulder. She didn’t really want to catch sight of Anca’s remains again while in the arms of her killer.

“Yes. I’m still mad at you for that.” Cassandra growled, “Why didn’t you call for me that time? I thought we had an understanding.”

“I’m sorry,” (Y/n) chuckled despite everything, “But I think understandings are usually met through open communication. I’m sorry I didn’t interpret your bug bites and general antagonisms as anything but blatant harassment.”

“Excuse me?” Cassandra snarled, reminding (Y/n) just how frightening she could be.

“I, I’m sorry Lady Cassandra. I forget myself.” (Y/n) stammered before gasping as Cassandra effortlessly rose to her feet with (Y/n) still in her arms.

“You must be awfully tired to be so mouthy. I can’t imagine you’ll want to sleep with a corpse on your rug so you’ll just have to sleep in my room until the maids clean this mess up. I suppose I’ll need to fix your nose too. So fragile, my prey is.” Cassandra sighed, clearly feeling inconvenienced by the whole situation. Though she carefully maneuvered out of the doorway so (Y/n) wouldn’t bump against it as they made the short trip across the hall to her room.

“You treat me quite well for being prey.” (Y/n) tested with caution. “You protect me, but why? Is it all so you can end me yourself at your own leisure?”

“Oh wow Cass, you really know how to make a maiden feel special.”

“I knew she was full of it, Bela! I bet they haven’t so much as kissed yet!”

(Y/n) felt Cassandra’s grip on her tighten as the mocking voices of her sisters closed in on them before Cassandra could slink into her room.

“Shut the hell up and mind your own business!” Cassandra fumed, crossing the threshold into her room before kicking the door shut, making a thunderous slam reverberate off of the castle walls.

Bela and Daniela merely giggled, seeping through the cracks of the doors before reforming over their sister’s bed, nearly falling on top of each other as Cassandra sped past them to take (Y/n) into her en-suite bathroom.

She placed (Y/n) on top on the counter and tweaked her nose without warning, making (Y/n) yelp in pain.

“Quiet prey, I needed to set your nose back into place is all,” Cassandra wrinkled her nose as more blood oozed from the abused cartilage, “damn, why must you smell so enticing.”

(Y/n) couldn’t find any words, both because her nose stung like hell and she was still stuck on what Daniela and Bela were taunting Cassandra about, so she just managed a small shrug.

Cassandra hardly seemed to mind her lack of verbal response. She was too busy grinding her teeth as her sisters continued to whisper and laugh in the bedroom. Cassandra quickly wiped and stuffed (Y/n)’s nose, nearly hissing at her to remain still before going back to deal with her unruly siblings, licking the stray blood from her fingers as she went.

(Y/n) tried to give her some privacy, she really did, but it was hard not to listen in when they were speaking so loudly, and about herself no less.

“You two get out of my room, now!” Cassandra commanded.

“Why? It’s not like anything unseemly is going to be happening in here. Right, Daniela?” Bela giggled while Daniela downright cackled with glee.

“Get. Out. Now!” Cassandra bellowed.

“Oh no Cassie,” Daniela waggled a finger, snatching it back before Cassandra could bite it, “you spend weeks pretending to have gone all the way with dear (Y/n) over there like some casanova and now we find out she doesn’t even know you like her?”

“What’s the matter Cassandra? It isn’t like you to be so chaste.” Bela said with a smirk.

“She must really like this one to be taking her time like this.” Daniela hypothesized with a bloodstained grin.

“Leave you idiots!” Cassandra nearly screamed, “She can probably hear everything you’re spewing! I’ll throw you out in the cold, don’t think I won’t!”

“Geez Cass, no need to be so hostile,” Bela shivered at the thought.

“Yeah, you take your well deserved teasings or we’ll tell mother you are not playing fair.” Daniela added with a pout.

Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose shutting her eyes tightly before releasing her nose with a growl and snapping her gaze back to her sisters.

“What do you want?” She grumbled.

“Oo! I want the best bits of your next hunt!” Daniela immediately proclaimed.

“I want to watch you flounder about whilst you try to explain your affections to the maiden.” Bela had said after a moment of consideration.

“Oh! That sounds fun. I retract my previous statement. I want what Bela’s having.” Daniela wiggled.

“I hate you both.” Cassandra huffed before stalking back to the bathroom, her giggling sister’s on her heels. (Y/n) quickly shot her gaze down at her swinging feet, suddenly more interested in the patterns of the floor below.

It didn’t take long for Cassandra to grab (Y/n)’s jaw and pull her face upward to meet her golden eyes.

“Listen prey,” Cassandra swallowed and blinked, her eyes darting all around (Y/n)’s face, “I...”

“Come on, Cassandra. It’s not that difficult.” Bela cooed, egging her sister on.

“I could tell her for you. That would be fun.” Daniela suggested, shrinking back just a bit at the look Cassandra shot her over her shoulder.

“Prey, (Y/n), I... Why is this so hard!” She stomped her foot and her nails bit into (Y/n)’s skin a bit too harshly, “I like you a lot and that’s why I’ve been helping you. I want you to like me too. Do you? Be honest.” She asked with a bit of hostility.

Did (Y/n) like Cassandra? Either way, it seemed like a death sentence to say no. Cassandra seemed to notice (Y/n)’s trepidation and quickly added,

“You don’t have to be scared. I won’t hurt you, just tell me the truth. If the answer is not to my liking then I guess I’ll simply have to try harder.” She said as if the words physically hurt her to say.

(Y/n) thought back on all of her interactions with Cassandra in a new light. Actually being caught as she fell, the schoolyard boy with a crush behavior (which honestly didn’t give the her any points but did make sense for how the murderous woman might try to show affection), most promising was how she brought (Y/n) back to health and continued to send money to her struggling family despite not working. Then of course she had saved her from Anca’s knife, wasting no time in cutting her down and checking (Y/n) over with care.

(Y/n) gave Cassandra a small smile that steadily grew a bit wider as golden eyes traced the movement and a hopeful sounding buzz began warbling in the back of her throat. Even the sisters standing behind her buzzed in unison, seemingly feeling their sister’s hope and growing excitement.

“Lady Cassandra, I like you too—Eep!”

Cassandra’s face dove into (Y/n)’s neck as her strong arms wrapped around (Y/n) to hold her still as she nuzzled and buzzed to her heart’s content. Bela and Daniela dissolved into their swarms and were haphazardly flying around them in celebration.

Cassandra gave (Y/n)’s neck a playful nip, much softer than a blowfly, before standing back to her full height and throwing (Y/n) over her shoulder.

“Lady Cassandra?” (Y/n) tried, wiggling a bit in the sudden new hold.

“Shhh, I’ve been waiting for this moment for weeks.” Cassandra said, craning her neck to look up at her sisters still buzzing above them, “Buzz off.” She told them. The clouds of flies let out a bout of disembodied laughter before slipping back under the door, feeling that they had given their sister enough grief for one night.

Once Cassandra was sure they were gone, she tossed (Y/n) on to the bed and climbed in as well, hovering over the stuttering maiden.

“Wuh- wait, Cassandra, I know we established we like each other but—“ the former maid flustered as Cassandra rested her full weight over (Y/n)’s body and moaned pleasantly in her ear.

“Mm, you’re so warm. I could just lay here forever.” She sighed, snaking her hands underneath (Y/n)’s back.

“Thank... you?” (Y/n) awkwardly replied. For as tall and strong as Cassandra was, she was surprisingly light. (Y/n) figured the fact that she was made up of flies had something to do with that.

Cassandra hummed some more, nuzzling her nose in the crook of (Y/n)’s neck and breathing so deeply that (Y/n) couldn’t help but giggle. There was a bit of concern bleeding in the back of her mind, but the smiling lips on her collarbone were quick to distract her.

“I quite like it when you make that sound, it’s sweet. But right now I’m quite tired, and I would like for you to be quiet now. I’m listening to your blood move.”

Well, that was a slightly terrifying admission. (Y/n) must’ve been going mad because she reacted no differently than if she had said she was listening to her heartbeat.

“Goodnight then.” (Y/n) murmured, slowly patting Cassandra’s hair, earning a low continuous buzzing that persisted until they had fallen asleep together.

#re8 oneshots #resident evil oneshots #resident evil village oneshots #cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x reader

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the-insomniac-emporium · 4 years ago

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Wounded Love (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: M for mature. Blood, more blood, heavy language, seriously lots of blood. Literally the bloodiest/most detailed thing I've written. Genre: Super angst with some fluff to ease the pain. We're talking putting honey in your cup of poison to make it taste better. The ending is split, with both a happy and a sad ending. Warnings: Minor surgery (technically?) while the patient is fully awake (that's the reader, btws), blood loss, graphic depiction of a wound and how said wound is taken care of. Possible trigger for self-harm, as the reader is performing part of the surgery themselves. Also brief mention of cannibalism in the bad ending. This may very well be a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat sort of thing. Notes: While I have more medical knowledge than the average person, due to my Girl Scouts training + having a mother as a nurse, I am in no way shape or form a medical professional, and do not suggest that the methods of treatment used in this fic be taken seriously. If you find yourself seriously injured, do not attempt to replicate anything you read here. Only a portion of this is based on a real-ass incident I went through, the rest is based on a dream, and what I experienced was not what you want to do in an emergency.

{Wounded Love}

This was a mistake. Blood stains your leg, your fingers, and bruises start to form all over your exhausted body. And for what? Why had you, a tiny, fragile human, dared to pass through this damned, lycan-infested forest? Because a woman who didn’t even love you asked you to. Now you were going to die, body certain to get left out in the cold or reduced to a pile of gnawed bones. If you had more strength remaining, you might have slammed your hand into the ground in frustration, or screamed until your lungs burned from something other than frost.

But that wouldn’t get you anywhere. Wouldn’t help you get back to the castle, wouldn’t ease the racing of your heart. So you settle for the only thing that might do any good: One quick motion pulls the scarf from your neck, sending a chill down your spine that you promptly ignore. Even with shaky hands and numb fingers, your experience is enough to let you wrap the cloth around your leg, tying the ends in a knot to secure it. The pressure hurts, just not enough for you to prefer bleeding out. A test step reveals that walking is mildly more difficult now.

“I’m going to haunt her,” you muse, under your breath, tears starting to freeze at the corner of your eyes. Still, you are as quietly determined as ever, and so once more you limp down the path. Every time you put weight on your injured leg it protests harder. If not for the snow and ice covering the ground, you might have quickly searched for a walking stick. “What could be so important about this damn package? Couldn’t Doug or whatever-his-fucking-name-is deliver it? Man can practically teleport, and here I am, watching as blood loss and hypothermia race to see who can kill me first.”

Gods were you angry. Why had this happened so soon after you had settled in? Finally you had been comfortable in Castle Dimitrescu, no longer as frightened of the residents, even finding them… charming, in a way. Then the Lady of house called to you for what she claimed to be a simple errand. You had believed her, even when she explained that you would have to leave the relative safety of her home. What a fool you had been.

“What a fool she must be,” you murmur, “to think me safe here. To think I could outlast wolfmen prowling the village outskirts.” Would she even care if she saw you now? Would she be surprised, disappointed? Would she do something to change your fate? There was no reason for her to do so. It didn’t matter how much you had helped her, how much she claimed to appreciate what you did (heavy lifting, repair of clothing, massages). You were as replaceable as any other Maiden there was. And that, that was what made you have a double-take. It came to you in that moment, a thought so painful that you could not deny it was the truth. “She never thought I would survive.”

Bitterness coats your tongue, like blood in your throat, and your brain demands that you destroy your cargo, the very thing that got you sent here in the first place. You almost do it. Feet stopping, arms shrugging the carrying straps off, bloody hands taking hold of it. Tears fall, just two, and hit the package. At that moment your plan changed. This new idea would be far, far more satisfying… as long as you succeeded.

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

Spite was one hell of a drug. Enough of it and you could march your warm corpse right back to the castle, fist banging on the front door with everything you had. The path had been shorter than you thought, thankfully, but it had still taken so much out of you. Now you were leaning against the door, sliding down it, unable to support your own weight. Nothing inside the castle stirred. Were they ignoring you? Was Alcina really going to let you die inches from your “home”? Fuck that, you thought.

“Alcina!” You scream, loud as you can, startling the birds in the distant trees. The word echoes around you and rattles inside your ribs. It’s not enough. “Damn it, I am seconds away from dying, get out here now so I can look you in your fucking eyes!” Something tears a little in your throat, turning the last of your words into a hellish screech, leaving you to gasp and croak in the snow. You go to wipe your tear-filled eyes with your hands, only to remember just how much blood they’re covered in.

Sobs overtake you in just a few moments. You’re blinded by tears, deafened by sorrows, and numb from all the cold. In the aching seconds before you black out, you can only barely make out the silhouette of someone rushing to your side…

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

The first thing you feel when you wake up is mind searing pain. You try to jolt upwards, only to find a pair of strong, gloved hands holding you down. Someone shouts something, but you can’t make it out, and you feel another hand gently squeeze one of your own. Pained gasps escape your throat one after the other, but whatever is hurting you doesn’t stop. It takes a full minute for you to adjust enough to make sense of where you are. At last, you understand what’s being said.

“-it’s okay, shhh, please, we’re trying to help,” says none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. She’s the one holding your hand, doing her best not to hurt you with her grip, trying desperately to calm you down. One the other side of you, Cassandra is positioned to hold you down. There’s a tight-lipped scowl on her face, and her brow is furrowed, but she’s not looking at your face, but rather eying somewhere in the opposite direction. Following her gaze, you find her older sister is sitting near your injured leg, and is undeniably the source of some of your pain. In one hand she holds a bottle of alcohol (notably not the wine her family produces), the other holding a wet cloth to your wound. No wonder it stings so much.

“Shit, shit, stop,” you growl, barely getting the words out. But all anyone does is look at you. Alcina’s mouth opens to speak, only for you to cut her off. “I’ve got medical training, for the love of Mother Miranda let me help! How long have I been unconscious?” This time Bela stops, glancing at her mother for direction. The grip on your torso grows looser, with Cassandra evidently heeding your words, and you take the chance to sit up, careful not to move your leg. At this point you realize that there’s a needle of sorts in your arm, attached to a tube, which trails up into a blood bag. It’s clearly been improvised with equipment from the “wine-making” part of the castle.

“Fifteen minutes at most,” a new voice chimes, from somewhere behind you. “I got that cloth you wanted, mother, but something tells me I’m not done fetching things.” Ah, Daniela Dimitrescu. Was the whole family helping you?... Why? As much as you wanted answers, there wasn’t (currently) time for questions. Not when one glance at your leg tells you that some of your flesh is rapidly decomposing. The wound was made only an hour ago, and already it was getting deadlier than you could even process.

“I need a sharp, clean knife, a needle with thread, a glass of water, and someone needs to put a metal tool, sterilized, on the stove, right now,” you said, finding it easier to talk now that no one was cleansing your wound. Without hesitation Daniela dispersed into a cloud of insects, heading towards the kitchen, while Cassandra stood up and moved towards the stairs.

“Guess I’ll get the needle,” she said, sounding rather unenthusiastic.

“What are you planning?” Alcina asks, more concerned than you had ever heard her before. Attempting to reassure her, you manage a small smile before explaining.

“Got scratched and slobbered on by a lycan. Whatever they have, it’s infectious. If I want to save my leg, or at least have a chance at surviving, I have to take measures to reduce the likelihood of an infection,” you say. Now Alcina is slowly stroking her thumb across your hand, eyes narrowed with concern. There’s a look on her face that you can’t quite parse, something she’s not saying. For now you ignore it and continue going over your plan. “The best thing would be to amputate. The tourniquet might have helped prevent the saliva from getting further into my body- and I do mean might- but I can’t keep it on forever. Problem is… I don’t want to lose it. God, I’m terrified of that, and with what we have in the castle I… I’d be more likely to die of shock than not. So, well, forget that idea.

“I’m just going to remove the wound. By making a bigger wound. It’s crazy, I know, but this will kill me if we do nothing. It will probably kill me if we do. The technical term is some shit like ‘de-bride-ing’?... No, debridement, I think. Except normally the poor fucker getting cut open is asleep for the procedure.” By the time you’re done, Lady Dimitrescu is looking at you with horror. Yeah, you had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate the idea. “Look, if this is too much… if it’s not worth saving me, if you’d rather give me a quick death, I understand. If I were-”

“Don’t be foolish, dear. You will not die, not as long as something can be done about it,” Alcina replies, quickly, eager to stop hearing you talk about dying. It’s… strange to hear her sound so confident about saving you, even stranger to realize what she called you. As if reading your thoughts, she shifts in her seat, avoiding your gaze for a moment. Shyness didn’t suit her, and you imagined it was more about her finding the right words. When she speaks, she’s looking right at you again. “I have hesitated to tell you the truth, and now I find the world playing a cruel trick on me, trying to take that which I adore. But I don’t want to aggravate your stress right now. Please, think nothing of what I have said.”

Before you could reply, footsteps reached your ears, and soon enough Daniela returns. In one hand she holds a large pitcher of water. In the other? Several knives, of various sizes, one of which you’re pretty sure you’ve seen Cassandra playing with before. As soon as you see her your face lights up, glad to be able to start the procedure.

“Oh thank fuck- or, I mean, thank you, Lady Daniela,” you stutter, reaching out as she offers you the items. Thankfully Bela had already made room on the table at your side, where she had set the bottle of alcohol down. For a moment you had forgotten that she was there. Had she already known about her mother’s feelings? Based on her lack of reaction, you could only assume that she was well aware. “I’m gonna scream, B-T-dubs. Just, uh, cover your ears?” You offer, already holding your chosen knife (big enough to be effective, small enough to offer precision).

“So… you’re going to do this yourself? Didn’t think you had it in you, red. Try not to cut anything important. Wouldn’t want to have to clean that mess up,” Daniela teases. As soon as she’s finished she has to shift into a swarm, as Bela flat out throws a knife at her. For a moment you freeze, watching as Alcina rises to her full height, staring her eldest daughter down. Behind her, Daniela reforms, clearly using her mother as a shield. “I was just trying to relieve the tension, jeez. It’s like you think she’s already dead.”

“Don’t speak another word!” Alcina snaps, sending a frightening stare towards Daniela. You cough, awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Meanwhile Bela is pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers, clearly tired of dealing with her sister’s sense of humor. “No one will speak a word until this is finished, unless my dear needs something, understood?” Both the girls nod at that, neither feeling a need to risk any further ire.

“I’m just going to start working now,” you awkwardly chime, taking a deep breath before leaning in towards your injured leg. On closer inspection you can see a strange, dark residue in the wound. They’re specks, scattered along the length of it, and they seem more common the closer you look to the gash’s center. Gross, you think. Half curious, half checking for legitimate reasons, you bring your other hand to the cut and gently spread both sides apart. It hurts like hell, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming. But sure enough, the residue is practically solid at the deepest point of the wound. “Those lycans really should be on leashes.”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Daniela exchange looks with Bela, but neither of them disobey their mother (yet). Shaking the thought away, you finally get to the brunt of the task at hand. Your hand moves slowly, reluctant to inflict such damage against its own body. As soon as the tip of the knife touches your skin, you start to doubt your ability to do this. It takes looking at Alcina, seeing the way she watches you with equal parts concern and tenderness, to remind you why you’re doing this. Death just wasn’t something you could accept right now; not after what she had said, what she had implied.

The knife is fantastically sharp. Hardly any pressure is needed before your flesh gives away, cells letting go of their neighbors like it was a casual affair. You start at the left side of your injury, digging down a little, trying to only go as deep as you needed to. Tears formed in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away. As the first of many screams leaves your mouth, you turn and twist the knife, cutting to the right, then up. Like scooping the seeds out of a pumpkin. Fresh blood springs from the wound, starting to fill up the crevice. Quickly you discard the skin you removed by tossing it into the same bowl that Bela had put a bloody towel in earlier.

“Yes,” you shudder through gritted teeth, “this hurts so fucking bad. No, I don’t need someone to take over yet.” At this point neither of the present sisters are looking at you, seeming oddly uncomfortable at the sight of you cut up like this. Hadn’t they done worse to your fellow Maidens?... Whatever, the thought couldn’t last long when you still had work to do.

Next you take a fresh, damp cloth and dab at your injury, ignoring how it throbbed beneath your touch. Then you resumed cutting, forced to press the knife deeper in order to remove the spreading residue. If you had been a scientist, this would have been utterly fascinating to observe. Whatever had been in the lycan’s saliva was slowly eating at your flesh, but not outright dissolving it. No, it simply left the skin where it was, but killed and rapidly broke it down. Yes, it would have been fascinating, if not for the fact that there was a chance you wouldn’t be able to outpace the bacteria.

With this in mind you force yourself to hold in your next scream, hoping to make it easier for you to focus. The knife continued to cut, going lower, setting nerves alight as it did. Your vision starts to blur, and for a few seconds you think you’re going to black out. Someone says something you don’t hear, and then suddenly there’s a hand on top of your own. When your vision clears you see Bela is responsible, her grip keeping you from dropping the knife. She doesn’t let go until you give her a clear nod. Even then, she seems reluctant to let you continue.

Around this time is when Cassandra returns. Her footsteps catch your attention (it’s your understanding that carrying objects is much harder in swarm mode), and you spare her a quick glance before getting back to work. A few moments later she’s placing a set of needles and a long spool of thread next to you. Ironically, they’re the same tools that you’ve used to repair and adjust Alcina’s dresses over the past year. Hopefully they work just as well on flesh, you think. Your next thoughts are canceled out by unbelievable pain. More cries leave your lips, and your hand starts shaking. Panic is settling in fast, your movements getting sharper, leading you to make a brash decision: Time to care less about precision and more about speed.

“Distract me, please,” you gasp between grunts. No one responds at first, and you know they need clarification. Speaking is getting harder by the second, but you do your best. “Brain can’t process many stimulants, same time. Just- fuck- trace skin around wound, touch hair, anything.” Somewhere between your semi-broken sentences and screams, Alcina gets the message. She’s moving closer, now, behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other rubbing gentle circles on your undamaged leg. Across from you Daniela is too busy pacing to help, though you can hardly blame her.

“Should I get the metal thing from the stove?” Cassandra asks, silently hoping that Dani hadn’t assumed someone else was going to handle that part. You’re still in too much pain to talk, so you half nod half grunt in response. Not bothering to say anything, the middle child takes off, swarm moving at what might be a new speed record.

As much as your hands are shaking, you still manage to cut away another strip of flesh, tossing it aside with even less care than before. This time Bela wipes the wound for you, practically reading your mind. The moment her hands are completely out of the way you start cutting again, crying out, throat shredded to pieces from all your screaming. Alcina sounds like she might be close to sobbing, but she doesn’t stop her movements, doing her best to distract you just like you had asked. Even Bela helps, now, tracing spots around your injury whenever she knows she won’t be in your way. The effect is minor, in the end, hardly making a dent in how much pain you’re processing.

If you survive this, though, you’re hugging every daughter as tight as you can and showering them with affection… but only after you finish doing the same for their mother.

“You are so brave,” Alcina murmurs next to your ear. It’s even clearer now how close she is to crying, her voice seconds away from cracking. Hearing her like this almost hurts as bad as the initial lycan attack did. “You are so strong. No other mortal could ever be your match. Do you understand, my dear? You are blessed, divine, and I love you so much.”

In any other setting, her words would leave you melting in her arms, radiating affection so strongly that you might as well have been radioactive. Instead, you are unable to respond, or even look her way. All you can do is press the knife to your skin again, showing your own feelings by destroying yourself for her.

The blade is starting to find more resistance, and you’re having to pause more often, spots appearing in your vision. Going faster only makes things worse, your hand threatening to slip. You’re determined to finish this, no matter what, but your need to control the situation is gradually making things worse. Alcina notices this before you do, and acts before you have a chance to protest.

“Bela, the knife,” she says, then tightens her grip on your waist. Your confusion shifts to panic as your arm is carefully, but forcefully, pulled away from your wound. “Can you finish the job?” It takes you a few moments to realize that Alcina isn’t talking to you. No, she’s speaking to her eldest daughter, who doesn’t hesitate to take the knife away from you. It’s so easy for her, between her strength and your weakness. “Don’t struggle. Let us finish this.”

Protests rise from your throat and die in your mouth. Pain flares harder now that Bela isn’t distracting you. Once more your vision goes dark, but this time there’s no pause, no hesitation. You are suffering, horribly, and the Dimitrescu family refuses to make you hurt longer than necessary. It’ll be over soon, you think, not knowing whether you refer to your pain or your life itself.

Something wet drops onto the back of your neck, then darkness overtakes you…

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

“Damn those lycans, I should string Heisenberg up myself! They’re his responsibility, after all,” Lady Dimitrescu snarls, trying to ignore the tears in her eyes. Now that you’re unconscious, unable to hear what ails her, she feels free to voice her thoughts. “The damn things should never have come close to the path to the village.”

“What if she strayed from the path? Wouldn’t that explain it?” Bela suggests, even as her hands work to remove what seems to be the last piece of dead/infected flesh from your leg. She hates how the words feel in her mouth, hates suggesting that you of all people might have betrayed her mother’s trust. But it makes sense. After all, this whole mess, with you leaving the castle to retrieve a mysterious package, was all a test to see if you would try to run. It hadn’t been her idea, and Bela admitted to herself that she thought it was unnecessary.

“On the way back? Why would she bother getting the package if she intended to run?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, right as Cassandra returns. The middle child is practically juggling the metal spatula she’s carrying, irritated (not harmed) by the heat it produced. One of her brows perks up when she hears the conversation, but she keeps any thoughts she has to herself.

“Just a thought, mother, I didn’t quite believe it myself,” Bela chimes, after a pause. With that said she holds up her hand with pride, clutching between her fingers the last of the decaying flesh. The way the others react, one might have thought that a miracle had been performed. Daniela clapped her hands together, giggling a little, and finally stopped her pacing. “Don’t celebrate too much, now,” Bela reminded her, taking the spatula from Cassandra as she did. “There’s still plenty to do. It’s a good thing she’s not awake for this part.”

A good thing, indeed. She uses her fingers to spread the remaining skin a little, giving a quick examination, then deciding that she had successfully removed all remaining residue. Keeping her fingers where they were, she pressed the side of the spatula to your skin, putting the most pressure at the center of the wound. Three seconds passed, then she lifted her hand. A pause. She pressed it back into place, keeping a close eye on the affected area. This repeated several times, the gaps being necessary to prevent unintentional damage. Once the wound seemed properly closed she set the spatula aside.

“Is that it?... Did we save her?” Daniela asks, opting to finally sit down in a nearby chair. Something about her word choice makes both of her sisters scoff.

“I could sew it closed, as a precaution, but there’s no way I’d do it the way she had intended. It might be best to just give her time to rest, and see what she thinks when she gets back up,” Bela answers. For a moment her words hang in the air, but eventually Alcina gives a little nod and a hum.

“Very well. I shall carry her to my quarters, where she won’t be disturbed. Please, let one of the Maidens know to bring some food up this evening,” Alcina says, gently taking you into her arms as she does…

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

BAD ENDING: It’s been six hours, with no sign of you waking up. Your other wounds had been examined, cleaned, and bandaged. Food had been carefully prepared and brought up to you, though it now remained on the bedside table, untouched. Alcina has gone to call Mother Miranda, intending to speak to her about the growing unrest of the lycans, as Heisenberg hadn’t answered his phone. For the first time since you returned you are alone. It is now, of all times, that you awaken. A gasp sends you into a coughing spree, forcing you into a sitting position. The space around you feels like it's moving, and your vision blurs. Blood spills from your mouth as you finally regain the ability to breathe.

Seconds later your vision clears, but what you see is enough to make you wish you couldn’t. The blood that spilled onto the sheets is a dark red… with even darker spots scattered throughout it. All at once you know what happened: Residue had hidden from you, or gone deeper than your wound, infecting you before you ever stood a chance. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but something deeper starts calling to you. Something older. Darker. It drags you to your feet, ignores the pain of your wounds, and sends you out the bedroom door.

Your mind is racing, thoughts never quite clear enough for you to understand. It doesn’t feel like you’re in control of your own movements. Was something else in charge, or were you operating on an infection powered autopilot? Answers weren’t coming, just bloodshed.

“You’re not supposed to be out of bed yet!” A voice calls out to you, making you turn to investigate. On the other end of the hallway is a maiden, one you instantly recognize. You’ve worked with her before, plenty of times, tag-teaming more tasks than you could count. She was like a sister to you. When she sees the blood staining your clothes, she gasps, then moves to support you. “Please, Lady Dimitrescu will be so upset if you-” her words melt into a blood curdling scream. For a moment you don’t understand.

And then you swallow, a chunk of hot meat slipping down your throat, and the scream dies down.

“What?...” You whisper, finally tasting the blood in your mouth, watching as your friend’s body falls to the floor. There’s a chunk of flesh missing from her neck, and the dots connect themselves in your head. You did that. Every part of you wants to scream, wants to cry out and beg someone to come kill you. Instead you fall to your knees, hard, uncaring. Your hands move themselves, grasping at the still warm corpse. Something has made you stronger, or at the very least removed the mental limits that kept you from destroying yourself. Flesh gives under your touch, tearing like paper, and you start crying as it reaches your mouth.

Footsteps approach, thundering fast, and you want to warn whoever it is. When you turn to look, you feel your hands let go of your meal. Your gaze meets that of a stunned Cassandra Dimitrescu, then drifts to the sickle in her hand.

“Kill me,” you growl, voice distorted, practically echoing. “Kill me now!” Not needing to be told a third time, Cassandra moves lightning quick, swarm-jumping forward before manifesting behind you, sickle dragging across your throat in one smooth motion. But it’s not enough. She realizes this, though, and slams her foot into your back, sending you tumbling forward. It’s enough to prevent you from countering, which gives her time to advance again, this time pulling a knife from her boot and driving it into the center of your back. When you scream, it’s not with your own voice, but that of a monster.

“Fucking fuck, what the fuck, red?” Daniella asks as she rounds the corner, eyes immediately landing on your bloodsoaked mouth. She’s quick to take in the scene, drawing a conclusion easily, even if it breaks her heart a little. Your vision fades as she approaches, and you know that it’s finally over. If only you had expired a few seconds earlier… because the last thing you hear is the startled cry of your would-be lover.

“No! No, darling, what happened-” Alcina finishes her sentence, but you do not hear it. You do not hear anything, anymore. You do not know it… but there will be hell to pay for your death.

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

GOOD ENDING: When you awake, you find yourself in the softest sheets you’ve ever touched, a warm and familiar presence next to you. The first thing you see is Alcina’s sleeping face next to your own. She’s on her side, one arm around your waist, the covers pulled up to her hip. Warmth fills your chest as you take in the sight. For a few moments you just… appreciate this. Never before had you imagined that you would get to wake up next to the woman you loved so much. A sigh, one of bliss, leaves your lips. Slowly you move forward, gently placing a kiss to Alcina’s cheek. Seconds later her eyelids flutter open, and she tiredly takes you in.

“You’re… awake,” she murmurs, hardly awake herself. But her fatigue doesn’t last long. As soon as she’s fully processed the situation her eyes go wide. Then she’s pulling you closer, careful not to hurt you, and peppering little kisses over your face. “I’ve been so worried, dear. You scared us so much.” The hurt in her voice leaves you restless, making you curl up against her, desperate to soothe her worries. Moving hurts a little, but not enough to dissuade you from your goal.

“I’m sorry, love,” you say, tears pricking your eyes. “I’m okay, I’m alive, the plan worked out. You don’t have to fret for me anymore. I won’t leave you, I promise.” Slowly but surely, Alcina calms, exchanging kisses for softly running her fingers through your hair. There’s such love in her eyes that you can hardly believe you aren’t dreaming. “You’re amazing, Alcina. I could stay like this all day.”

“Maybe we should,” she offers, chuckling a little. Once again you give her a quick kiss, unable to resist the urge. “I should have never asked you to leave. I should have just trusted you.” The words give you pause, and you tilt your head in confusion. Realizing that you still didn’t know the full story, Alcina frowns. “The package is worthless, just a bundle of straw and a few rocks for weight. It was never what I cared about.”

Tension builds in your chest, and for a few seconds you have no idea how to react. It takes a minute for you to think, to connect the dots, but once you do it’s a tad bit easier to breathe. A scowl twists your lips as you think of what to say.

“If I had known that Heisenberg was forgoing his duties, I never would have sent you outside,” Alcina adds, the silence taking its toll on her.

“You shouldn’t have sent me either way,” you respond, bitterly, thinking of all that you had seen and heard on your journey. “I would have done anything to prove to you how I feel. There are other ways to show devotion- far less dangerous ways, at that.”

“I know, dear. You have every right to be angry… and watching you suffer has taught me all that I need to know,” Alcina says, still playing with your hair, trying to ease the tension. As upset as you about this recent revelation… it’s not enough to change how you feel about her, and you want her to understand that, fully and completely.

So you lean into her touch, let your eyes drift close for a moment, then softly place one of your arms around her as best as you can.

“We’ll need to talk about this more… just not right now. Right now, I need you, Alcina. I need to hold you, and be held by you, and just know that you’re here. That I’m here. That neither of us are going anywhere,” you say, resting your forehead against hers. “I need to feel safe, and your arms are the safest place I can imagine. Stay here with me?”

“It will be the easiest thing I have ever done.”

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #tw blood #tw self harm #tw cannibalism #blood blood blood oops #I wrote this instead of sleeping because my hands cannot be stopped #typeity type type type #sorry if the formatting is off #i'm trying the new editor or whatever #if it's fucked I'll fix it whenever I wake up

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 years ago

Note

My friend is a big fan of you as well and asked me to request this:

A Janus fic based on the song Monster by Dev https://youtu.be/5iA_oFDNt9E

I think the song could fit him quite well, maybe with the others being like “out of all of us, h i m???”

-🦑

Songfic?? With Janus angst?? My time has come *ascends*

CW: Unsympathetic Light Sides (they're not assholes but they're basically unsupportive, concerned for Reader, and hateful/distrustful of Janus)

...........

Call the doctor, call the doctor Must be something wrong with me He's a monster, why do I want ya Please tell me, please tell me

"What?!! [Y/n] this..this cannot possibly be true!"

"Roman-"

"You could've had any one of the fine gentlemen here...but more importantly me.."

"Roman, just calm-"

"And yet you chose him?! That wretched slimy snake?!" The princely Side pointed rudely at Janus, who was just sitting on the couch beside you. He frowned as he fiddled with the chain of his capelet, finding more interest in that than the uncomfortable conversation currently taking place.

This wasn't even the direction you nor him expected it to take. It was already going south..straight towards hell.

All because Remus couldn't keep his mouth shut and blurted out the revelation that you and Janus were dating.

Ironically, he was the one who confessed to you first--something that you're certain no Side would ever believe.

"There's got to be something wrong with your head." Roman shook his head in dismay, before approaching you. "Come now. We'll find you a true Prince Charming! One that's not a vile fibber like-"

Suddenly you sprang up, moving away from him. "You don't get to choose who I fall in love with. Remus.." You glared at the dark half of creativity. "I'm gonna kick your ass if you don't leave right now."

"Do ya promise~?" He giggled, refusing to acknowledge the seriousness of the situation. "You know I'm into that."

"Let it go, [y/n]." Janus tried to assure you. "They're both bumbling fools."

"A fool?!" Roman gasped. "The only fool here is YOU!! Trying to tempt them with your false promises of love and affection! What do you know about romance?!"

"Apparently more than you." You interrupted, standing by your lover in a defensive manner. "I know this isn't exactly how I planned to tell you but god just calm down for a minute."

You definitely didn't anticipate this kind of freakout from him. You thought he'd be asking about the how's and when's of falling in love, as one would expect from the "romantic expert" of the Sides.

You had a plan to tell all of them individually, but..starting with the guy who was deceived most and openly mocked his name probably wasn't a good idea.

Eventually the two halves of creativity left you both alone. And only then did you sit back down next to the now-dejected Janus, holding his hand. "Sorry you had to hear all that."

"Oh don't worry, it'sss new to me." He muttered, squeezing your hand in turn. "I'm sure Roman will have a tough time realizing he's definitely the most handsome one around here." The smirk he gave made you chuckle.

"Yeah, well..he'll get over it. We got off on the wrong foot with him, but I'm sure the others will be more accepting."

He's a monster He's a monster That boy, he's a motherfucking monster But I love him, yeah I love him Ooh ah, ooh ah ah

"Seriously? That guy?"

"Just hear me out, Virgil-"

"Oh I've heard plenty. I'm just warning you that it's a bad idea." Virgil huffed as he put his phone down. "He's a monster who's gonna use you for some selfish gain. You've seen it. He only cares about himself and hurts people to keep it that way."

"I know you've known him longest but...I'm pretty sure at this point he's moved past all of that." You pointed out. "Honestly, the only one being hurt here is him. First Roman, and now you?"

Despite your arguments, he just didn't seem convinced. "I'm not doing this to give you anxiety...I can only do that to Thomas. And I'm not gonna say "breakup with him right now". I'm just telling you that he's not what he seems."

"I appreciate your worries, but I love him and that's that." You insisted, crossing your arms over your chest as you stood defiant. Obviously it was in his nature to tell you to stay cautious, and he'd probably say the same if you were dating anyone else.

But calling Janus a monster seemed awfully harsh. You haven't even heard him call Remus that, which was odd.

'Seriously why is he being such a prick?'

"..whatever you say." Virgil shrugged before sinking out, leaving you alone by the staircase.

"I wouldn't worry. His opinion of me has never changed."

You realized Janus was eavesdropping and turned to face him, sighing. "Jan, are you doing something that's making them be so... brutally honest? This just seems unusual for them."

"Not that I'm aware of." He had briefly removed his glove, indicating he was tell you the truth.

"Hm..then again, Roman and Virgil are sorta the least-rational ones. One's jealous that he doesn't have a date and the other overthinks a lot."

"Wonderful observations, my dear."

"Patton and Logan are more down-to-earth and clear-headed so they might have more understanding."

"I'm sure they will." Janus' tone didn't match the optimistic words he uttered as he slipped the glove back on. "Oh and..I'll try not eavesdrop anymore."

Little did you know, that would be two lies.

Most people are scared When they look him in the eyes, all they see is fear (but) Let me make this clear I want him near

"How can you look into his eyes and..and.."

"Go on."

"And not be scared?! I know I would be, kiddo."

"...Patton, is that seriously your only argument? That he looks creepy?"

"No, no! I just..." For a moment the fatherly Side paused, before he sighed and patted your shoulder. "Listen, I do think you're being a good influence on that wriggly snake but...I only worry he's being a bad influence on you. Every time he's near you I-"

"It sounds like your only argument is "he's a creepy crawly snake so I shouldn't trust or love him". Is that all?"

"It's...a bit more complicated than-"

"It's a yes or no, Pat."

"...I'm trying to look at the bigger picture and, sure there's some good in him but..I worry he's gonna hurt you in the end, that's all. Like he hurt us several times by impersonating us." He tried to reason, but you just brushed his hand off your shoulder in disbelief.

"Wow, I didn't think you'd be one to judge books by their covers." You frowned slightly. "Well let me make this clear: I want him near me. I feel safe around him. I love him, outward appearances and all. So if you can't accept the way I see him then...we're done here."

With no more defenses, Patton sank out as you left the room. But in the hallway you spotted a familiar capelet vanish around the corner, and you found Janus, who manifested a brown eye contact over his snake eye. His scales almost vanished under his skin, but you called out to him before they could disappear entirely.

"Janus? I thought you weren't going to-"

"I..n-never expected Patton of all people to say that.." He held the side of his face shakily, keeping his head lowered so you didn't see the gradually forming tears. Only now he was starting to feel the impact of everyone's words. "If..it's my looks then...I can surely make adjusssstments.."

"No, sweetheart. You don't have to change your looks or be anyone else for me." You cupped a hand over the one that still covered the scales. "C'mon. You can't seriously believe Patton's dumb reasoning, right?"

"........."

All you got was a silent nod.

Most people can't sleep Feeling he's out, on the streets (but) He is my creep He is my creep

"While I see your relationship to Janus is beneficial-"

"Actually, nevermind. You're just gonna tell me the same shit everyone else did."

"...now [y/n], remember what we've discussed on cognitive distortions-"

"Jumping to conclusions? Overgeneralizing? I know. But I have valid reasons for those. You all think Janus is gonna hurt me because he's some "freaky selfish snake". But he's not, alright? He's been more truthful with me lately and I'm sick of the others not believing anything we say. So please, Logan..can you take my side for once?"

Logan was surprised by your outburst. He didn't even know you've talked to the others about Janus and assumed he'd respond in a similar fashion.

But he adjusted his glasses and looked at his notebook, all traces of emotion vanishing. "Logic can't take sides. If you would just listen..I've observed that your interactions with him have been generally positive, and that's helped Thomas-"

"There you go again..why does everything always gotta lead back to Thomas? Can't you just recognize Janus as his own person without assuming I'm only dating him to help-?"

"Because he can't be distracted from his core function!!"

You jumped a bit as he slammed down the notebook, scowling at you with a slight orange tinge behind his glasses. Though it was quick to disappear as he sighed. "He can never be his own person. You two will never have a truly normal relationship. I only advise that you keep that in the back of your mind."

And just like that, he left.

Every discussion you've had with a "Light" Side only left the bitter taste of frustration in your mouth...

Now what should you-?

You were startled again as you heard a nearby door slam shut, before realizing who overheard this conversation.

"Shit."

Is he human, does it matter I know he's what I'm after I can reel him, from disaster I know

"So..th-that's how they all see me, huh? A monster..n-not even a person."

"Jan.." Joining your boyfriend on the king-sized mattress, decorated in black and gold much like himself, you could finally see those walls he built up now crumbling to pieces.

One way or another, he heard what every Side had to say about him. And it was more than enough for him to realize they not only shun him for simply existing..

But they refuse to accept the idea that he's worthy of love, too. He can take the name-calling and insults in the videos, but this is what truly broke him.

He just scratched at his scales, his human eye already red and raw from crying as he wondered why you went through all of this just for him.

Any sane person would listen to the others and just breakup with him. He wasn't worth the effort.

You clearly deserved better.

You deserved someone who's more handsome, chill, kindhearted, or sensible-

"I know you can't truly be human but..does it matter?"

"...does it?" He sniffled, leaning into your touch more as you ran a hand through his hair. "Because apparently not. I know I'm not a perfect, flawless individual..I-I don't expect any of us to be. But if only I-I never-"

"Jan..you can't focus on what you can't change. I know you feel guilty, and if the others can't see that...it's their own fault. I won't stop fighting for us and for your happiness. I love you, okay?" Turning to him fully, you cupped both sides of his face and looked into his eyes.

"And in case you think I'm lying, I'll say it again: I. Love. You. None of their words will change that."

Hearing you become so determined to love him despite all odds made him sob again, this time from relief, as you put your arms around him.

Nobody's ever taken his side on anything...and certainly never defended him the way you did.

You felt several extra arms manifest to hug you back, and you smiled, closing your eyes.

Maybe in time the others will understand. But while it's true he looked like a monster and had his deceitful ways..

You knew what you were after.

And so did he.

Call the doctor, call the doctor Must be something wrong with me He's a monster, why do I want ya Please tell me, please tell me

#clanask #squid anon #sanders sides x reader #sanders sides imagine #janus sanders x reader #janus sanders #angst #hurt/comfort #songfic

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haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles · 4 years ago

Text

Shower Friends (Miya Atsumu x F!reader)

The dorm you live in has co-ed bathrooms. Why that’s remotely a good idea is beyond you; and recently, your precious shower time is being interrupted by a certain blonde haired setter for the volleyball team. When he lies to his teammates that he has a girlfriend, somehow you get roped into his scheme.

genre(s): college!au, fake dating, angst, fluff, mutual pining, enemies to lovers (kinda), eventual smut (maybe) words: 3.5k

a/n: ah the sweet sweet smell of mutual pining. also 3 more chapters are planned, not written yet though bc i just decided i’d be writing them lmao. hopefully can get started on that this weekend and post them next week 🤗

taglist: @apollochjld @kurosarium @vicassa @carbs-need-more-love @underratedmage @idek-at-thispoint @wtfeverbrandi @food8me @yikes-buddy @ntimacy @nyxiie @oikawasbooty @chocolate3010 @sugawarabby @greenyiplier @kritiiiii @tokyosdawn @youstydiaa @h3llok1ttygirl

one | two

Chapter Three

“You want me to help you with what?” You ask, a bit stunned when he showed up at the door, a terribly annoying but also cute pleading expression on his face.

He groans, his shoulders hunching forward in exasperation. “Ya really gunna make me repeat it?”

You peer closer at the top of his head and see that he’s being serious. The roots of his hair growing in are a dark brown and it had never even occurred to you that he dyes his hair the blonde color you’re so used to. “No, but why do you need my help?”

This is so embarrassing. Normally his roommate or a teammate can help him but none of them are available today and he’s already let the roots grow longer than he likes. But when one of them suggested you help him out instead, something inside him rebelled. For some reason, the thought of having you dye his hair for him made him uncomfortable, like he’s showing you an intimate part of him. This hair has been a part of him so long he can’t remember the last time he’d let it grow out.

“I can’t see if I got everything,” he admits. It took a lot of pacing around his room and staring at his roots for him to get up the courage to come over here to ask you. He can’t really explain why he was so against it, especially since you don’t seem to mind after you got over the initial shock of realizing this isn’t his natural hair.

A wave of relief washes over him when you sigh, conceding, “Alright. Just let me change into something I can get bleach on. I’ll meet you at your dorm.”

While he waits for you, he busies himself with mixing the dye together so it’s ready for you, and when you arrive in a t-shirt and shorts with paint splatters all over them, he mentally kicks himself for thinking about how even wearing something so simple you still look better than anyone he’s ever seen. Crossing your arms, you motion for him to take a seat at his desk. Before he does so, he reaches behind his neck to grab at the collar of his shirt and pull it over his head.

You stand there dumbfounded for a moment, it taking you a second to process that he’s now standing before you shirtless and you’re free to ogle his muscular chest and arms to your hearts content. He doesn’t pay any attention to you, knowing if he meets your gaze, he won’t be able to stop the heat threatening to crawl up his neck. Instead, he wraps a towel around his waist to protect his shorts and sits in the chair to wait for you.

Except now, you have free reign to stare at his back, which is just as defined as the front of him and you need a few more seconds to reel your thoughts back.

“Whaddya waitin’ for darling?” He drawls, throwing you a glance over his shoulder, not expecting you to be standing there frozen, eyes pinned to his now bare chest.

He opens his mouth to tease you further, but your eyes snap to his and you practically shout, “Do you have another towel?” He just cocks a brow and then points to his closet where another towel is hanging on a hook. Snatching it, you return to him and drape it over his shoulders, hiding most of his annoyingly toned body. “Don’t want to get any bleach on your skin,” you explain, no way in hell ever admitting to him that you’re finding it hard to focus with him on display like that.

Absentmindedly, he hands you one of the clips he bought a long time ago, one that’s almost completely bleached itself and you start running your fingers through his hair to section it. He closes his eyes, focusing intently on the soothing sensation of your fingers on his scalp, doing his best not to groan out loud at how good it feels. With anyone else, this isn’t anything special, normally he sits as patiently as he can whilst trying not to annoy whoever is doing his hair (lest they decide to ‘mess up’ as punishment). But with you, it’s a different feeling entirely.

It's jarringly intimate as you clip his hair back and reach over him to grab the plastic gloves that came with the dye. Lathering up the applicator brush, you start slathering it onto his hair, trying your hardest to make sure it’s evenly distributed and surrounding each strand. As you do so, you ask, “How long have you been doing this?”

He resists the urge to shrug, not wanting to jostle you, replying, “Osamu and I started in middle school.”

“Osamu dyes his hair too?”

“Yeah, he goes for gray. But I’d heard blondes have more fun so—here we are.”

He grits his teeth as your fingers skim over his scalp, glad for the towel you wrapped around him to hide the goosebumps skittering along his bare skin.

“Let me guess,” you muse. “You guys did it because people couldn’t tell you apart?”

“That,” he laughs, “And we thought it would look cool. The first time we did it, it looked like shit.”

Your answering laugh warms his heart as you unclip a section of hair and keep working. “I can’t imagine your mom being too happy about it.”

“Livid. We got bleach everywhere.”

You laugh, continuing to move through his hair methodically. It doesn’t take very long as you’re just dying his roots and they weren’t that bad to begin with, contrary to what Atsumu thinks. When you finish, he gives you a sheepish look and has to swallow his pride to ask you to help him wash it out. Every time he’s tried to do it himself, he always ends up leaving a huge chunk of bleach somewhere.

You oblige, following him to the bathroom, not bothering to care about the looks you get along the way. If they want to stare at a shirtless Atsumu and then glare at you for having that all to yourself, that’s their prerogative. It does wonders for your confidence, regardless that all of this is a ruse.

Luckily, the bathroom is empty and Atsumu dutifully bends over the sink to let you start washing the dye out of his hair. He’s immensely grateful his eyes are shut, and his face is shoved into the sink to hide his flushed cheeks as he thoroughly enjoys your fingers running through his hair. The sensation of your fingernails lightly scraping over his scalp makes him ball his fists as he has to bite his lip to keep from making any sounds.

You’re unbothered, until you notice the towel has slipped from his shoulders and with the way he’s bracing himself against the counter every muscle in his back and arms is on display for you to see. It’s an effort to continue your task as if nothing is wrong and force yourself to look off into the distance instead of eyeing him up.

It’s no easy feat. Especially when you finish and he rises, scrubbing at his face with the discarded towel before moving on to his hair. You press your lips into a firm line and let yourself indulge just a little bit looking at the way his muscles flex with the movement, droplets from his damp hair trailing down the planes of his chest towards the waistband of his shorts and—your attention is broken at the sound of him chuckling and you snap your gaze to his.

You find him staring at you with mischief sparkling in his eyes, so you speak before he can tease you. “Is that it?”

“We have to actually dye it now.”

“Oh.” You turn on your heels desperate to escape his gaze. “Let’s go then.” A smirk plays across his lips, but he refrains from teasing you, solely because he very much enjoyed the way you were looking at him and doesn’t want you to stop.

And yeah—sue him if he thinks about your hands in his hair for the rest of the day. In the end, he might be a little grateful no one else was available to help him.

When mid-semester break arrives, it comes as a surprise that you actually miss each other. What surprises you even further, is that he’s the one to bring it up. Within the first night, he video calls you, a sheepish expression on his face, explaining he needed someone to complain to.

“What do you mean?” You teased. “Sounds like you’re getting stuffed with good food from Osamu and you have plenty to brag about.” You winked, smiling devilishly at him and pointing to yourself. You’re only joking. Slightly. You aren’t sure what will come about if he tells his family about you, or if that’s even a good idea. It’d be much easier to break this off cleanly without the involvement of each other’s families.

He sighs, flopping down on his bed and scrubbing his face with one hand. “They’re just dyin’ to meet you now.”

Your brows lift, half-expecting him to have tried to keep this a secret. “You told them?”

“I wasn’t gunna,” he explains. “But apparently some college sports news channel caught um—,” he coughs awkwardly, remembering very vividly this day, yet the two of you haven’t acknowledged it since. “Our—uh—celebration.”

Eyes widening, you stare at him a moment before the both of you burst out laughing. Between your giggles you manage to say, “Oops.”

Laughing alongside you, he grins, despite the pang in his heart at the voice in his head desperately trying to remind him all of this isn’t real. You aren’t his girlfriend and the moment all of this ends, you probably won’t bat an eye at him ever again. He hates how much that hurts.

Forging onward towards his demise he discloses, “I am now a very proud owner of a very jealous brother now, so thank you.”

That only makes you keep grinning, setting a hand on your cheek and dramatically saying, “What? Of little ol’ me?”

He fights the urge to tell you that yes—jealous of little ol’ you. The girl who is slowly becoming the girl of his dreams. The beautiful, funny girl who deals with him and everything that comes with him. He swallows all that, keeping the mood and saying, “He refuses to let me try any of his onigiri. A crime, really.”

“Of the highest caliber,” you agree, stifling your laughter. “Though I’m sure you steal some when he isn’t looking.”

“Yeah, but he caught me and hit me on the head with his spoon.”

“How dare he. Lucky for me, my family is clueless.”

“What do they think yer doin’ right now then?”

Shrugging you say, “I told them I had a project to work on with a classmate. Which isn’t entirely a lie, I do have a project to work on. But someone interrupted.”

He smirks. “Wonder who that could be.”

“Beats me.” His responding grin does something to you that’s been happening a lot more frequently lately. Making you feel like all the air has been punched out of you and like your heart is going to beat out of your chest. Though, you’ve gotten quite good at hiding it.

In the distance, you hear someone calling his name. He panics, it’s bad enough his family knows about you now, but he isn’t sure if he’s ready for them to meet you. Especially Osamu, who he has the sinking feeling is already suspicious of this. It’ll be a miracle if he can slip this by him.

“Gotta go!” He says quickly, and before he ends the call, he hears you chuckle and say, “Beware the spoon.”

Every day his situation only gets worse.

The next night he can’t get Osamu off his back. Enough that when he tries to retreat to his bedroom to give you a call, pathetically missing you again, Osamu bursts in when he’s about two minutes into the video call with you. He tries to shove him out, embarrassed and afraid Osamu will see straight through him. But Osamu is stubborn, and he hears you laughing on the other end of the call before saying, “Aww, Atsumu won’t you at least let me try to charm the pants off him?”

He grits his teeth, the thought that he wants you to charm the pants off of him, not his brother flitting through his head before he can stop it. But he relents, letting Osamu sit backwards on his desk chair to join the conversation.

He isn’t sure how, but somehow you get Osamu to believe this is real in a matter of minutes. You have him laughing and talking about culinary school and he almost feels jealous that your attention is now on Osamu instead of him. It’s a ridiculous notion, he knows it, but it doesn’t stop him from keeping the camera on him as much as possible.

When the call ends, Osamu looks at him seriously, and for a moment Atsumu thinks he’s just been pretending to believe you this entire time. However, he breaks into a smile and smacks him on the back saying, “Got yerself a keeper, there.”

Atsumu tries to grin with as much sincerity as he can. Yeah—he knows he does. But that isn’t going to stop this from ending.

That night, both of you go to bed feeling like you’re getting in too deep.

And as per usual, when school starts back up again, neither of you bring it up. You’re happy to keep ignoring it, hating yourself for liking this arrangement and him more and more every day. It sad really, how much time in your day is spent thinking about him. Wondering if there’s any possibility that the two of you could just transition to a real relationship. Because to you, that’s already what this is. Nothing would change, but at least you’d stop feeling guilty every time you enjoy his hand in yours or the soft press of his lips to the top of your head.

A few days after returning to school, you find yourself alone with him in his dorm room studying. He’s sitting at his desk, hunched over a textbook while you lay on his bed, head propped up by an elbow. You can feel your eyes drooping, the words blurring together, it becoming harder and harder to stay awake. His bed is too comfortable and smells overwhelmingly like him, a scent you’ve come to enjoy every time you’re pressed up against him. A mixture of his body wash and the ever-present faint smell of the volleyball court. Eventually you’re powerless against the solace of sleep.

When Atsumu notices you, his heart jumps into his throat. You look so serene and peaceful, your chest rising and falling ever so slightly, part of him wants to crawl in beside you and press his face into your neck and fall asleep right along with you.

But he too has begun to feel like this game has gone too far. The moment he had to tell his family, lie to Osamu, he knew he’d crossed a line. It isn’t fair to you. No longer does he need to pretend for his teammates that he can have a serious relationship, there isn’t a reason to torture himself and keep you tied to him anymore.

Yet, thinking about not being without you, no longer eating lunch together, studying together, or having you in the stands at his games wrenches his heart in such a way he actually feels like it’s crumpling inside his chest. He hasn’t been able to admit it, but at some point along the way, he thinks he fell in love with you. And it just hurts too much to keep pretending. Especially when you’re only doing this for peace and quiet during your showers.

For you, he shouldn’t drag this on any longer.

So, a couple days later, you texted him telling him you were in the library and can join him anytime if he wants. A harmless text, one you’ve sent him many times since this whole thing started, but this one makes his heart sink. Knowing this is the opportunity he’s been waiting for to talk to you. He tries to not think about it, trying to let volleyball take over his thoughts, but it’s futile. All he can think about is saying those words to you, and how it’s quite possibly going to utterly destroy him.

But you take it well, as he expects, squashing the hope that you might feel something for him too.

That night in the library feels particularly lonely. There’s no quick-witted remark from the boy who carved himself a place in your life, no one there to make you laugh when you’re struggling with a problem. Instead, you’re met with nothing but the darkness and silence of the library. It’s almost too much to bear, and once the silence starts closing in on you—you force yourself to leave, refusing to let yourself wallow.

The next weeks are hard. He never imagined that he’d think that after all of this was over. He keeps showering in the mornings to avoid you and uphold the deal you two struck months ago. He ignores the empty hole in his chest when he eats lunch without you, or studies late alone. The most jarring thing is your absence at his games. He constantly finds himself searching the crowd for your face, before remembering you won’t be there. He misses that intense gaze he could always feel on his back, the one that kept him awake at night when he let his thoughts run wild.

He feels as though something has been ripped from his life, leaving nothing but a gaping hole behind that seems intent on devouring him whole.

The same can be said for you.

Who knew you’d ever miss his teasing remarks while you shower? Or miss how you could complain to him endlessly about classes and then have him comfort you in the warm solace of his arms? Even the little things like walking to class together, now that you do it alone, it feels like there’s something missing.

The two you go on like that, thinking of the other every night before sleeping, tossing and turning with the thought of what could have been.

And eventually, you reach the point where you’re over it. Over pining after him day after day, peering out your door to make sure he isn’t around, or taking detours just to avoid him in the hallways. You’re over it. Enough that you’re willing to swallow your pride and confess to him, even if he doesn’t feel the same way—maybe you can fucking move on then.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you stomp to his dorm room, his roommate opening the door; his eyes widening upon seeing you. Immediately, he grabs his keys saying into the room, “I forgot I need to go to the store Atsumu, see you later.”

He leaves no time for Atsumu to protest, out the door in a matter of moments, leaving you standing in the doorway. Atsumu is just sitting in his desk chair, looking dumfounded at you, having fully expected to never see you again.

The gears in his head grind to a halt as you say, “This is stupid.”

He gives you a bewildered look, unsure what exactly you mean by that.

You steel your courage and press on. “I like you. And you like me. I think. And all this pretending that we don’t is stupid.”

After a few moments, his lips curve into a smile, the mischievous one you used to hate but now feel relief seeing. He can’t help the joy building in his chest at your confession. How many sleepless nights thinking about this very moment did he endure?

“You said it,” he teases.

Despite giving him a look, you do nothing to stop the grin rising to your lips. “Well, it didn’t seem like you were going to.”

His smile only widens, and he motions you into the room. “Get yer butt over here already.”

You move on instinct, striding into the room and climbing into his lap, settling your legs on either side of his you wrap your arms around his neck. The overwhelming sense that yes—this is exactly where you want to be, washes over you. He smirks up at you, his large hands resting at your waist, waiting for your next move.

“I can’t believe I actually missed that stupid smirk,” you say, lowering your lips to his, fingers slipping into the short hair at the base of his neck.

His smile hasn’t faltered, muttering against your lips teasing, “Does this mean I can shower at night again?”

A laugh bubbles out of you, but he smothers it in another kiss and refuses to let go.

#miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu reader insert #miya atsumu #miya atsumu imagine #miya atsumu scenario #miya atsumu reader insert #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu

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theaspers · 4 years ago

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between heart and soul | lucifer x reader

a/n; warm up bc i haven’t written in a while. sort of an au? that isn’t really explored much in this fic but they’re still demons and the reader is still a mortal. part of a collection of fics that i had planned. anw mostly lucifer/reader with hints of lucifer/reader/diavolo.

also known as the conversation that takes place mostly on lucifer’s lap

“i like you though,” you tell him, a furrow between your brows and a frown twisting your lips. you’re curled up sideways on his lap, face tucked into the crook of his neck. quiet chatter fills the room, the occasional flickers and flashes of colour from the television drowning you in hues of yellows and reds. he feels the warmth of your breath against his collarbone as you continue to speak, “is that not a good enough reason?”

truthfully, he’d stopped giving the show attention about an hour ago. your insistence on watching it through and the fact that you were comfortable in his lap were the only reasons as to why he hadn’t left to do more productive things. lucifer breathes another sigh, “i did not think you to be so unreasonable.”

no, not completely so, lucifer thinks. headstrong, perhaps, a trait that had first pulled him to you but now only serve to perpetuate this matter as a point of contention.

unreasonable? he sees you mouth, incredulous, contemplative.

you shift minutely in his lap to look up at him, and he moves his fingers from your waist down to rest them lightly on your hips in support. the furrow between your brows deepen, as does your frown, “are you saying i shouldn’t like you? or dia?”

yes, he wants to say, but that would be a lie. whatever this was that was unfolding between you and him and the prince has grown disproportionately at such an alarming rate. he has to admit, however, he is growing incredibly fond of the idea by the second. he is not terribly resistant to it, only the lack of control he had over it which grated at him immensely.

still, this was a different matter altogether, he reminds himself. trust is fickle but his feelings would not be as volatile. two demons is two too many. perhaps he’s been too lenient with you. his fingers dig into your hips, but not enough to hurt, a little squeeze, a gentle reminder, “no. but perhaps, exercising caution would serve you well.”

“but i can’t not trust you. or dia. i like you. i like dia,” stated as a matter of fact. there’s a slight pause before, quietly and softly, you add, “you treat me well. make me feel safe.”

safe. a wicked shudder slithers down his spine. to think you would feel safe in the accompaniment of the demon prince and his right hand. but of course, he thinks. of course you’re safe. the safest you could possibly be. pride rumbles in his chest, driving him to press a kiss against your temple. at the back of his mind, the fact continues to prickle him uncomfortably.

you pull away slightly, straightening up in his lap, and the contentment that he had felt when you’d been pressed against him replaces itself with something like petulance. your fingers move up to curl around his cheek, as if to console him. your thumb is gentle as it traces the peak of his cheekbone. he knows you long enough to recognize that it is kind understanding that he sees on your face, and not the condescension that he would’ve taken it for if he didn’t know you better.

another day, he muses. he’ll save this conversation for another day. he pulls you into him, captures your lips with his, and makes sure you remember nothing about the awfully tragic mess of a show that you’d been watching.

“tell me,” you insist not long after, as you pull a stack of documents closer. another long day of work that’s stretched into the night, something lucifer’s certain shouldn’t be made a habit but has gone on for far too long to easily break out of. the tea that barbatos had served alongside an assorted platter of light snacks has long since gone tepid.

the night finds the two of you in a similar enough position - you on his lap, him allowing you. a haphazard mess of papers lie before the two of you and he’s far since lost track of which was his, and which was yours. not that there had been much progress since you’d slid onto his lap, he supposed. diavolo sits not too far away. in a bit of a mood after today’s reports of unrest, lucifer suspects, since he’s voluntarily poring over documents of his own on a desk across the room, focus unwavering. still, the occasional glances that the prince sneaks and the fond smile that swells warmly on his face do not go unnoticed by lucifer.

“hm?”

you lean back against him, attention rapt on the report before you, “tell me why you think i shouldn’t trust you.”

the shuffling of paper, the quiet scribbling that’s been filling the silence stops momentarily. when lucifer looks up, diavolo meets his eyes. a subtle exchange of quiet understanding. the prince chooses to remain silent. a fair enough decision. after all, it had been lucifer who insisted on the matter.

unknowing, or more likely, uncaring of what had transpired, you flip through the report that lucifer knows should have been completed by now. the comforting background noise resumes as diavolo returns his focus back onto his work. lucifer sighs, giving your side a little squeeze before he taps a gloved finger on the stack in front of you, “focus.”

he doesn’t miss the small snort that you make, the nonchalance in your next words, “you should help me with it then.”

the smile on your face grows at diavolo’s low chuckle. this wouldn’t be the first time that you’ve done this, and lucifer is certain that it would not be the last. the language of demons made your head hurt, you’d complained once. too confusing, you’d reasoned, but mischief gleams in the twinkle of your eyes, which is why you should help. the fact that you’re not past taking advantage of someone like lucifer doting on you amuses him more than it does anything else. he can’t say no to you, regardless.

“what do i need to do to crack you?” you ask, scribbling notes across the top of the page.

good progress. no major mistakes. he hums as he looks on, “oh, whatever could you mean, beloved.”

“you know. the whole you can’t trust us thing.” a line through several sentences, unreadable scrawls filling the space beside it. a frustrated sigh, quiet.

“wrong form,” he notes, picking up a stray pen and adding a few scribbles above your own. you thank him quietly, a final look through of the page before moving on to the next one.

“is my word not enough?” he asks, when he realises that you’re still waiting on an answer. much like him, you were not a stranger to the struggle and the pain of associating with his kind. the torture of betrayal, the blood spilled. a sharp burst of anger burns in him but it dissipates as soon as it comes.

“settle down,” you say as you turn to look at him, something like a sharp warning. a frown curls on your face, and he wishes for nothing more than the chance to smooth it away. you lean up to press a small kiss on his cheek instead, “that’s not what i meant. of course, they are.”

you turn back to the report, shifting slightly on his lap, “i’m just trying to understand, lucifer.”

he collects his thoughts in the slight gap of silence that comes afterwards, mindlessly tracking the movement of your fingers across the page. voice a low murmur, he points out, “change this part.”

“ah, right,” you hum, quickly jotting down a reminder for yourself. satisfied with the current state of the document, you move on to the next. “so i’m not supposed to trust demons.”

“correct.” he moves a hand to curl around your side. hardly ever a moment when he can keep his hands to himself nowadays.

your eyes flicker over to diavolo, who has a smile on his face but says nothing more, and then back to your report, “because demons always have ulterior motives.”

“yes.” lucifer’s glad that you’re aware of that much, at least.

an exhale through your lips, “i can’t trust demons. but surely i can trust my lovers?”

lucifer frowns, and ponders. he is a demon first and foremost, is he not? perhaps you needed another reminder. he was nothing so malevolent. nothing so righteous. but is he not a god in his own right? and though the line between lover and god may thin with each passing moment, his teeth remain sharp and his claws remain bloody. a weapon is still a weapon, no matter how much good it tries to do.

“lucifer,” you call out. a tenseness behind your voice, something like strength and power. you’ve long since placed your pen down, abandoned the stack of documents. you’ve turned to face him now, expression tight. reminds him of how absolutely delightful you’d been during the day’s training. oh, if only this had been a different moment, he laments.

you press on, eyes steely. commanding in the way that makes him want to bend to your will, “listen to me and listen well.”

“i trust your judgement. your truths. and i trust that you’ll take care of me.” your hand rests gently over his, before you bring it up to press a kiss over the top of his knuckle, “i have a lot of faith and trust in you. in both of you.”

in the mess of his own thoughts, he’d missed diavolo moving closer, now an arm’s length away. perched over the edge of lucifer’s desk, laughter rumbles his chest, warm and hearty. an i told you so if lucifer’s ever seen one. the prince leans closer and runs his fingers through your hair. presses a kiss on the side of your head. a reward that you gladfully bask in.

how odd, lucifer thinks, that this is where he’s found himself. that after centuries of violence and blood and grief, this is where he’s settled. a little world of his own, warm and content. with two that he can call his own.

he presses his eyes shut, leans into your warmth and concedes. there is no point in fighting it anymore. not when he sees the fiery determination that burns in your eyes, as if daring him to contest your truths further so you can prove him wrong. not with the backing of the prince who insists on pressing closer and closer. more than your occasional naïveté and unrelenting kindness, perhaps he should be more worried about how much of himself he’s given, of how much he’s surrendered to you and to his prince.

#anw be nice omg i havent written in forever asdja #obey me #obey me swd #obey me lucifer #obey me imagines #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #obey me shall we date

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thatfanficstuff · 4 years ago

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Impossible - 15

Pairing: Eric Northman x Reader

Warnings: canon typical, discussion of injury

***

Sookie sat at the bar with a glass of whiskey and coke in front of her. That was as close as you got to consoling her over what she just saw. You didn’t want to make it better. In fact, you preferred her wanting to stay the hell away from Bill.

Eric stood behind you sipping at his own drink while he ran a finger up and down the back of your arm. You leaned into his chest savoring the contact. Finally, Bill emerged from the basement. Sookie refused to look at him even when he stood right beside her.

“I want to thank you for securing my release,” he said.

“Uh huh.” Sookie stood but still didn’t look at him. “Let’s go. I have to pack.”

“Pack?” His gaze darted from this blonde to the two of you. “Where are you going?”

“None of your business, Compton,” you answered for her. You glanced at Eric and gestured toward Sookie with a nod of your head. “I think I better go with. Just to make sure everything stays on track. I’ll pack when I get back.”

He nodded once and kissed your temple. “Be safe.”

You walked backward away from him with a little smirk. “Just driving to Bon Temps, Eric. Think I’ll be just fine.”

***

You sat in the back while Sookie drove and Bill sat in the passenger seat. They’d been arguing almost since the drive started. Fortunately, you were nearing the little town.

“You killed him, probably both of them, and you don’t even care,” Sookie said for the fourth time.

Apparently, Bill was as tired of hearing it as you were. “I am a vampire, Sookie. I needed to feed. If you insist on associating with vampires, you need to grow up. And if you wish to blame someone for the deaths, blame Eric. If he had fed me during my incarceration, I wouldn’t have been so ravenous.”

“You’re seriously not going to take any responsibility? You know why you were in that basement. You would still be there if not for her, so watch your tone,” you snapped.

Bill snarled at you. “Just because you and Eric are fornicating, does not mean you have any authority over me. So, you would be wise to watch your tone.”

The car slid to a sudden stop causing you to rock forward. You glanced to Sookie with a frown.

“Get out,” she said.

“Pardon?” the vampire asked.

“You heard me, Bill Compton. Get the fuck out of my car. First, you insult me and then you threatened my friend.”

“I am not getting out of the car, Sookie. Just drive.”

“Fine,” she said before throwing off the seatbelt. She got out of the car, taking the keys with her and slamming the door.

Bill groaned and started to open the door until you stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve got this. I think you’ve done enough.” You followed after your friend without giving him a chance to respond. You were surprised to find she’d already put a good deal of distance between herself and the car. She apparently could get a move on when she was pissed. You jogged after her. “Sookie. Wait up.”

She slowed and turned to you with a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Something was in the brush keeping pace with you but you didn’t even react. No sense in freaking out the telepath unless necessary. “Hey,” you said as you reached her.

“Hey,” she said as she turned to start walking again. You put a hand on her arm to stop her.

“Stay still.”

She looked at you in confusion until another burst of sound came from the trees around you. She jumped a little. “What was that?”

You hummed to let her knew you heard, but you were too busy listening to give her more of an answer. You needed to pinpoint the origin of that noise so you could get Sookie the hell out of here. Suddenly, a figure stepped into the path and caught your attention. What the fuck was that? It was a thin figure with a bull’s head and large clawed hands. You pulled Sookie behind you so you were between her and the beast.

The only weapon you had was your knife and you certainly didn’t want to face this thing with just that. As the beast hunched forward in a charging pose, you pushed Sookie down the path. “Run, Sookie.”

“What?”

“Just run!” You yelled as the beast launched itself toward you. Shit it was fast. You might be able to outrun it, but Sookie couldn’t and you were keeping yourself between the two of them. Your only hope at the moment was that your vampire felt your terror and was on his way to perform a daring rescue. Or something like that.

You didn’t look back—looking back only slowed you down. You just kept running and pushing Sookie forward when necessary. Then white-hot pain raked across your back as claws tore through your clothes to rend the flesh. Fuck. You collapsed to the ground and curled in on yourself. Oh god, that hurt.

Sookie screamed at a rather impressive decibel then yelled for Bill before kneeling next to you. “Oh my god. Are you okay?”

“Peachy,” you said on a groan. “Fuck.” The wounds burned and you really wanted to what the hell had attacked you because this wasn’t an ordinary injury.

“Bill, do something,” Sookie ordered.

You chuckled though it was masked in another moan of pain. Compton wasn’t going to do shit for you.

“Eric will be here shortly. He would not appreciate my interference. We should go.”

“I’m not leaving her here.” Sookie sounded disgusted at the mere thought and you were certain you didn’t have to worry about her returning to Bill any time soon.

“I should hate think you were refusing to render aid to my mate, Bill,” Eric’s smooth voice flowed over you. Despite the implied threat, he barely spared the other vampire a glance as he crouched by your head. He brushed hair away from your face and ran his gaze over your face to see how you were handling the injury.

“Something’s wrong,” you forced out through clenched teeth.

He bit into his wrist and held it out for you to drink. You took a long swallow before jerking away with a cough. Then you heaved as you vomited up the blood. The motion made your back burn in fresh pain.

“Fuck,” Eric muttered. “What attacked her?”

“I don’t know what it was. A man with a bull’s head. It just stood in the dark then charged at us,” Sookie explained, still sounding terrified.

“Clawed hands. The wound burns. Like acid,” you added.

Eric gathered you up in his arms. “Bill escort Sookie to her car, then walk home. Miss Stackhouse can finish the drive without you I believe.”

He undoubtedly argued, or would have if Eric had given him the chance, but you two were already on your way back to Fangtasia.

You passed out on the trip and were awoken by someone poking at your wound. You were laying on your stomach on something soft in the middle of the club. You hissed and turned your head to see a very short woman in scrubs. Eric stood nearby with his arms crossed over his chest as he observed. Once he realized you were awake, he was by your side in an instant, kneeling by your head.

One hand brushed your hair away from your face and he grasped your hand with the other. “All will be fine, mitt allt.” He shifted his attention to the doctor. “What is it?”

“We don’t have a lot of choices. She’s been poisoned.” She paused to examine something on her glove. “You hear of Komodo dragons? Their mouths are teeming with bacteria. They bite you then follow you around until you succumb to the toxins and you are helpless. Then it will devour you alive.”

“This wasn’t a Komodo dragon,” Eric responded in annoyance.

“No. But the toxin is similar, only much more effective. I don’t think I’ve seen it before but it’s hard to tell without further testing and we don’t have that kind of time.” She pulled a blue bottle from her bag and looked at Eric. “You need to leave so I can remove her clothing.”

You squeezed his hand. You didn’t want him leaving you alone.

“She is my mate. I will stay.”

The woman’s gaze shifted to you and you gave a small nod.

She sighed. “Very well. You can help then.” They stripped your shirt, Eric doing his best to jostle you as little as possible. It still hurt like a bitch. “Hold her down.”

You didn’t like the sound of that. Your fears were validated when the doctor opened that blue bottle and poured it across the wounds on your back. Whatever was in that vial hurt far worse than the wound itself. You clenched your teeth against the pain before finally giving up and releasing a scream that left your throat raw. Just as the pain began to subside, the bitch of a doctor dug one of her fingers into the wound and dragged it the length. “Fucking fuck. Son of a bitch.”

You weren’t certain how long the torment went on. It could have been hours or minutes that simply felt like hours. Finally, she finished. You were exhausted and still hurt, but apparently you weren’t dying any longer. “You can give her your blood now. Her body should accept it. I’ll expect payment by the end of the week.”

Eric gave her a nod then bit into his wrist before offering it to you. You drank long and deep. When you finished, you remained still as you waited for the healing to kick in. Eric sat beside you, holding one of your hands in his own. Once the pain had mostly subsided, you opened an eye to peer at him. “A couple more decent injuries and I’ll have more of your blood in me than my own.”

He gave you a look that said you weren’t nearly as funny as you thought you were. “I sent Pam and Chow into the woods. They found nothing but a scent they couldn’t recognize.”

You huffed. “That’s helpful. Is it healed yet?”

“Nearly. Let me get you something to wear.” He released your hand and you closed your eyes as you waited for him to come back. You heard him sit but kept your eyes shut. “Do you recall the last time your father drank from you?”

You furrowed your brow. What an odd question. But it had been months at this point now that you thought about it. “Three months. Maybe four. Why?”

“Because he felt your panic almost as soon as I did. Not only have I drunk from you far more recently, but as you’ve said, you’ve had quite a bit of my blood. It should have diluted your connection with him.”

He was right but you had no answers for him so you simply shrugged.

He hummed then stood. “Come, mitt allt, let’s get you cleaned up.”

***

You called your father as Eric drove you home. You were dressed in an oversized t-shirt from the bar and your panties. Everything else had probably been burnt by now.

“Y/N,” he answered. Oh, he was pissed.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Don’t you daddy me. What the fuck is going on over there? You quit working for me because you were tired of all this shit but here you are nearly dying for free. Is it worth it?” His tone was one you rarely heard directed at you and you didn’t like it. It immediately had you on the defensive.

“So are you pissed I was hurt or pissed I don’t work for you anymore? I’m having trouble telling.” Eric’s hand found your thigh and gave it a little squeeze. You laced your fingers together with his and held his hand.

“Don’t start that shit with me, Y/N Y/M/N. This is twice you’ve nearly died in as many days. I have every right to be furious. At least if you were still working for me, I’d know exactly where you were and what you were up against. I could send the entirety of the resources at my disposal to assist you.” He paused and sighed. You could picture him pacing his office as he spoke to you. “I want you to come home.”

Eric’s hold on your hand tightened.

“Eric is my mate. I am home.”

You heard something break on his side of the line. “You haven’t completed the ceremony yet. It’s not too late to back out.”

“I accepted his claim. That is enough and you know it. What is this? I thought you liked him?” You took your hand back to rake it through your hair.

“That was before he proved himself utterly incapable of protecting you,” your father snapped.

You swore you could almost feel the irritation and paid radiating off Eric. You took a breath to calm yourself before responding to Roman. “Eric doesn’t have to protect me because he has faith in me to protect myself. And when things went bad, he was there to pick me up and take care of me. How many times exactly did I nearly die running errands for the Authority? I lost count but I’m sure you have a tally somewhere. I don’t want to talk to you for a few days. Please don’t call me.” With that you hung up.

You were nearly home before Eric spoke. “Are you all right?”

“Sure. You?”

He chuckled. “He is not my father.”

You thought about saying he wasn’t yours either, but that would be a lie and you knew it. Biology be damned, Roman Zimojic was your father in every way that mattered. You simply sighed and turned to look at the window.

#eric northman x reader #eric northman fanfiction #true blood fanfiction #impossible #series

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honey-dewey · 4 years ago

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All For The Hunt

Pairing: Din Djarin/Jedi Reader

Word Count: 3,282

When gathering bounties, the Reader wonders how long it would take Mando to catch them. A bet ensues. Will the Reader last all 24 hours, or will Mando hunt them down before the time is up?

You sighed in the comforting silence of the Crest, carefully taking apart your lightsaber to examine the purple kyber crystal. You’d never had problems with your lightsaber, but you liked to be sure everything would continue to be in working order for any future events. Grogu was asleep, and would likely be that way for at least the next 24, if not 48, hours. The final member of your small clan was sitting on a crate, silently sorting through available bounties. He dismissed most of them on the basis of time, considering the three of you could only be in one place for a week or two.

“How long does it take you to catch one?” You asked, breaking the silence as you clicked your saber pieces back together.

Mando looked up, the T of his visor sending a shiver down your spine. “What?”

You shrugged off the feeling of the shiver, putting your saber back on your belt. “How long does it take you to catch a bounty, on average?”

“On average,” Mando repeated slowly, clearly thinking it over. “Two days, depending on the skill set the bounty has.”

Nodding, you stretched. “What about me? How long would it take you to find me?”

Mando was quiet. He’d met you due to a bounty on your head, but had never once tried to turn you in or hunt you down. “Where?”

“Here,” you said, gesturing to an open hatch that overlooked the bustling city.

Again, Mando considered it. “A day.”

“A day?” You laughed, standing and moving to set up your sleeping area. “I bet I could last longer than that.”

“Do you now,” Mando drawled, his voice a tone you’d decided long ago was amused.

You smirked. “Yeah. I do. I think it would take you at least two to catch me and bring me back to the Crest.”

Mando stood, holding a hand out. “Wanna bet?”

Immediately, your chest tightened with excitement. You and Mando made bets a lot, considering it was often the only thing to do in hyperspace. “Fine,” you said, shaking his hand. “Some rules. No going easy on me. I want this to feel legit.”

Mando nodded. On bigger bets, you and him would alternate coming up with rules until you were both satisfied. “Second,” he said. “No intent to hurt or kill.”

An obvious one, but you kept going. “I get a head start of half an hour.”

“Okay. No using your weird power.”

“It’s called the Force, and sometimes I can’t control it.”

“Fine. No excessive intentional Force using.”

“Then you can’t use any weapons beyond your blasters.”

“My built in ones?”

“I’ll make an exception. But no Z-6. It stays here. And don’t use those fancy ass settings on your HUD. That absolutely counts as cheating.”

Eventually, you and Mando reached a nice point of agreement on all fronts, and you began to get ready as Mando took the Child into the cockpit to wait out your half hour head start.

Immediately, you dug up clothes Mando didn’t even know about, dressing quickly. They were your old Jedi robes, altered after you left to help you survive with a bounty on your head. You clipped your saber to your belt and tugged your old boots on, carefully tying away your hair and slipping on your hood.

Walking silently out of the Crest, you checked your wrist, where a small multipurpose watch sat nestled between strips of leather to make makeshift vambraces. You set the watch to alert you when Mando left and raced off into the city.

Even now, as the sun was setting, the city was busy. You slowed, checking your watch. Mando was still on the ship, and would continue to be for another ten minutes.

Taking a minute, you stopped to wander, making a plan. It had been almost 18 months since you’d hid from anyone this way, but as you imagined the Mandalorian hunting you down, it sharpened your instincts back to their razor-fine point.

You smiled to a merchant you bought food off of, heart beating faster when your watch chimed and set a 24 hour timer. Mando was on the hunt.

Scanning the skyline, you noticed a standout structure. A big wheel with baskets to hold people. It was in the more abandoned part of town, where only the desperate dwelled.

But you weren’t desperate yet. Drawing your hood closer around your face, you continued about your way, acting as if you belonged. With your bag and your entirely innocent demeanor, you hoped Mando’s helmet would just glide right over the back of your head.

You fought to keep yourself from tensing when you heard the telltale clinking of beskar behind you. But you managed to keep yourself composed as Mando passed right by you. The merchant you were talking to was relaxed, maybe a bit too relaxed, you realized as you used the Force to speed up the transaction.

Stuffing the spare clothes into your bag, you bowed slightly to the merchant and began to walk off, towards the residential district. To anyone, it would look as if you were merely done shopping for the evening and were headed home.

As you walked, you cursed your subconscious instincts. The Force had, upon remembering the feeling of being hunted down, heightened your hearing. You pulled your hood down, sliding a pair of pod racer goggles over your eyes. You couldn’t risk getting anything in your eyes now.

Leaving your hood down, you shivered as a breeze blew through, carrying the sound of beskar. Was he already on your trail?

Wondering if he’d remember if you used Force persuasion on him, or if it would even work at all, you continued to walk without a care in the world. Ducking down a narrower street, towards the abandoned district, you checked your watch once you were in a good enough alcove. An hour had passed since the hunt had begun.

You continued to make your way towards the wheel, climbing up on people’s rooftops and racing across with silent footsteps. You caught sight of Mando at one point, checking his vambrace. Probably checking the time, just as you had been periodically doing.

You walked away, ducking behind a chimney when he turned to look in your direction. But his focus was on the ground. Had he seriously forgotten about the skillset that kept you alive for all those years?

You continued towards the wheel structure, killing another hour with how you were twisting and turning to see if Mando was following you or if he was just looking.

You scaled the wheel with ease upon reaching it, settling down in the highest basket. You could see Mando’s helmet glinting in the low night lights occasionally, but he didn’t seem to be on any kind of trail, so you scooted down, heightened your senses, and closed your eyes to sleep.

You woke to the sun on your face, filtered through the protective lenses of your goggles. You were awake immediately, senses all hitting eleven as you felt someone scaling the wheel.

Looking down, you blood ran cold. With nine hours gone and fifteen left, Mando had found you.

You scooped your stuff up, tossing the cloak you’d purchased on to hide your Jedi clothes. In one smooth movement, you jumped, grabbing the old structural beams of the wheel and thanking the Force you’d picked up a pair of gloves as you swung from beam to beam with practiced ease.

By the time you’d hit the ground, Mando was only halfway down, cursing loudly. So he had forgotten you were a self-taught acrobat.

As soon as your boots made contact with the ground, you took off running, heading through the maze of scrap metal. You gave Mando a generous five minutes to get off the wheel, so you abandoned your cloak down one split at a fork in the road, backed up, and sprinted down the other one.

You were aiming to hide away in the shadows of one of the warehouses, hoping they were filled with junk you could hide behind. Once you had proper shadow cover, no one would be able to find you.

Of course, your entire plan was hinging on Mando not finding you before you reached the warehouse. The Force was active in your veins, reaching out and determining where he’d gone. He had followed the fork with your cloak, which would take him back to the market district.

Slowing to a walk, you caught your breath, noting a pair of eyes on you. “Hello?”

The person squeaked, hiding behind a crate.

You smiled, trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible. “Hi. Did I scare you? I’m so sorry, me and my friend are just playing a game.”

The person, who you could now see was a child, peered out. “You’re a Jedi.”

You glanced down at the lightsaber on your belt. “I was,” you murmured. “But now, I’m just a person.”

The child still seemed nervous. “Do you need help?”

Crouching down so we’re the child’s height, you thought. Mando hadn’t said anything about receiving help, but you were fairly certain it was against the rules anyway. “No,” you said. “Like I said, it’s just a game. My friend isn’t actually trying to hurt me.”

Of course, in that moment, a thick rope wrapped around your body, causing the child to cry out, scurrying away down a tunnel as you writhed. Truthfully, this would’ve been easy to escape, but you wanted to put on a show and make this interesting. You stood, hearing Mando’s footsteps clinking slowly as he wound the rope closer.

“I can bring you in warm,” a low voice said from behind you, causing your entire body to shiver with an exhilarating mix of terror and excitement. “Or I can bring you in cold.”

You waited, still and compliant, as Mando drew closer. Might as well use this time to test a previous theory.

You turned, leaving a single coil of rope around your elbows and waist. “Mando. They sent you after me, hm? They’re fools, all of them.”

Mando, to his credit, stayed silent.

Sighing, you lifted your hands, opening your palms in the universal ‘I’m unarmed’ gesture. “I’m not your bounty,” you said firmly, dominant hand making a small arc as you prayed this would work. Mando’s mind was a steel trap, and Force persuasion rarely worked on those who were strong willed. “You need to let me go and head back to the market district. That’s where your bounty went.”

Mando’s body shuddered, muscles tensing. “Shut up,” he growled, actually growled, at you.

Instead, you repeated your phrase, putting as much Force behind it as possible.

Mando didn’t falter, and when you saw that this wasn’t going anywhere, your dominant hand shot down, quick as a flash, and grabbed your lightsaber. Severing the rope in one smooth movement, you raced off while Mando caught his bearings, shaking his head and following after you.

You were fast and you knew it, having been trained as a Jedi meant you were always in peak physical condition. But no amount of exercise or training could help the fact that Mando’s legs were longer than yours.

“Shit!” You yelled, skidding around a corner and seeing a ten foot tall chain link fence between you and the warehouses. At the top of the fence sat coils of highly charged wire, meant to deter those who wanted to enter. But nothing could deter you now.

You began to scale the fence, making it almost all the way up before Mando caught up to you. He called your name out, voice desperate. “Come back here!”

“Like hell I will,” you replied, gripping the top chain and praying this would work.

He called your name again, the fear in his voice making you pause. “You’ll get hurt! Let’s just go.”

You screwed your eyes shut. In one calculated movement, you threw your body over the electric wire, arching your back and falling the ten feet down to the ground on the other side.

Turning, you smiled at Mando, who was in apparent shock that that had actually worked. “Good luck,” you said with a mock salute. “You only have fourteen hours left.”

Just like that, you ran off, heading down the row of warehouses. You picked one about five down, some old storage plant that made an excellent hiding place. Wedging yourself between two crates on the top floor, you settled in with an old book and a dim flashlight.

At the three hour mark, you put your book down, wanting to save the rest for later, just in case you found somewhere else to hide. Instead of reading, you shuffled around until you found a semi-comfortable position and slipped into sleep.

Your nap lasted longer than expected, clocking in at just over five hours. The exhaustion of being hunted wasn’t entirely foreign to you, but it had been a while since you’d experienced it, and you were fairly certain that you’d sleep for years upon reaching the Crest again.

You checked your watch, standing and stretching to work the kinks out of your neck and back. Six hours left. This was shaping up to be the longest twenty four hours of your life. You’d always been cautious when you’d been hunted, but those were average bounty hunters. Being hunted by Mando was a totally different experience.

Speaking of Mando, he wasn’t anywhere close to you, if your senses were accurate. You looked around, spotting a promising place to settle in the shadows.

You carefully scaled thick chains and swung a few times to reach the hanging canvas cloth, held in the air by a length of chain. It took a few tries, but you were eventually cocooned safely in your makeshift hammock. Leaning back and letting the canvas cradle your body, you pulled your book out, entirely determined to finish it.

You did manage to finish the book, killing another five hours. Only one left.

At this point, you were worried about Mando. He hadn’t showed up for thirteen hours, which was concerning. Had he given up? No, he wouldn’t. He had to have a plan.

You wiggled upright, wrapping a leg loosely in chain and sliding down to the ground. If Mando was waiting for you, then you’d give him what he wanted. There was only an hour left anyway.

You found him in the market district square, talking to a merchant. He was waiting for you to come to him.

“Smart bastard,” you grumbled, checking your watch. Half an hour.

Mando turned, spotting you with your saber out but unlit. “You found me.”

“You were baiting me,” you argued. “You’re still treating this like a game.”

Everyone in the square hurried off, as if bounty hunts were normal out here. There was a clear ring for you and Mando.

You lit your lightsaber, moving to a fighting stance. “Come get me, Mandalorian.”

Mando’s hand twitched on his blaster, but before he could get a shot out, you were gone.

You ducked and weaved down abandoned streets, lightsaber unlit in your hand. You were headed back to the Crest, Mando hot on your heels.

You jumped, easily stepping up a stack of crates to the rooftops. Mando remained on the ground, racing beside you. He fired his blaster off a few times, and while his aim was true, you blocked them with ease, saber lit and whirring as you ran.

Eventually, you reached the end of the roofs, jumping down and zig-zagging your way through the smaller houses on the outskirts of the city. The Crest was just up ahead, and you skidded behind it, where no one else could see you fight.

Mando came up behind you with a flurry of dust, his blaster raised. You blocked the shots, hearing the click of the blaster emptying. Mando swore, coming at you with his fists.

It wasn’t a horrible mistake, but his fighting style was entirely focused on physical force, whereas yours was more about the dance and balance of the fight. You matched Mando’s every move, whirling around him and occasionally striking his pauldron or backplate. Your lightsaber did nothing against the beskar, but it was more about the fact that you were slowly wearing him out.

Eventually, you managed a high kick, accidentally aiming wrong. You’d meant to catch his collarbones, but your foot hit the lower lip of his helmet instead, sending it flying off and spiraling into the air.

You stopped, squeezing your eyes shut. “Fuck. Sorry. Go get that, okay? No cheap shots, I promise.”

Mando shuffled, grabbing his helmet. When he softly signaled you, you opened your eyes. He was ready, fists raised. As you lit your saber and slid to a fighting stance, your watch beeped. You stared at it, confusion quickly melting to happiness. “I won!”

Mando stood straight, a low chuckle coming from under his helmet. “So you did.”

You two ended up back in the Crest, the same way you’d been the last time you’d been here. You had bathed, changing back into the soft sleep clothes you wore around the Crest. Mando, still in his armor, recharged his blaster, methodically taking apart his pulse rifle to examine the pieces. You did the same to your lightsaber, sitting opposite Mando in the cargo hold.

“You never told me what you wanted.”

“Hm?” You looked up, a bit confused.

Mando shrugged. “You won. What do you want?”

“I dunno,” you said softly, clicking your saber pieces back together. “Who are you?”

“What?”

“That’s what I want,” you decided. “Who are you Mando? I’ve known you for almost two years, and yet, I know nothing about you.”

Mando was silent, so silent you figured he wouldn’t answer. But then, he looked up.

“My name is Din Djarin.”

You smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Din Djarin.”

After that, it was silent again. You finished with your saber, putting it with your day clothes and heading to the cockpit to entertain Grogu, who had just woken up.

That night, after you’d laid down in your tiny sleeping area, you heard the door hiss open. Assuming it was just Din, you rolled over, rubbing your eyes against the harsh lights. “What?”

Din looked as ashamed as someone wearing a face-covering helmet could. “I can’t sleep.”

You were still confused. “Pardon?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“I heard you,” you grumbled. “But what does that mean?”

Din took a breath. “Every time I close my eyes, I just see you, leaping that fence like an idiot. You scared me. I thought you were going to die.”

“Huh.” You shuffled in your bed, balling the blanket up. “I guess, well. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Din promised. “But can I?”

He didn’t even need to finish. You scooted over, making as much room as you could. “C’mon. Yours probably has more room, but I know for a fact my mattress is softer than yours, and I’m sore as shit right now.”

Din chucked, climbing into the bunk and lifting Grogu up with him.

It took some finessing, but eventually, you and Din were comfortably snuggling together in your bed, Grogu in his tiny hammock above your feet.

“Do you really sleep with it on?” You asked the pitch blackness in front of you.

“Hm?” Din hummed, and his voice sounded clearer, more human.

You smiled, curving into his chest and wrapping him up closer to you. “I guess not. Good night Din.”

Din let out a soft breath, ruffling your hair and letting his chin rest on top of your head. “Good night.”

If you liked this, I do dialogue prompt requests as well! Go request something if you want!

#the mandalorian #mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x reader #my writing #pedro pascal

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anika-ann · 4 years ago

Text

A Cup of Truth (S.R)

Type: One-shot, a bit of coffee shop AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader Word Count: 3000

Summary: Your favourite pretty blond comes in every day to get a cup of good ol’ joe. You flirt on occasion; mostly you, because your suit of armour – which people boringly call an apron – and his smiles give you confidence.

When the band of dumb goons picks your damn workplace to attack, your confidence flies out of the window. Well. Good thing that the resident Avenger heroes save the day including the one in his all-American star-spangled glory.

Prompt: “You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere.” (Bold in the text)

Warnings: hostage situation, violence, non-consensual drug use/injected, hospitals, slightly crack-ish humour (?) and some fluff

A/N: For marvelcapsicle’s challenge. Thank you for letting me participate, darling, may you gain more and more sweet followers in the future ♥

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Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before or after injected with the serum, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would punch bullies in their face.

When it came to people close to his heart, that rule amplified tenfold. No one touched the people he cared for. And while he would not necessarily call all of them friends, he would go rabid should any harm come their way.

To be fair, the list of ‘his people’ who were still alive wasn’t long; he could almost count them on the fingers of one hand. Tony. Natasha. Clint. Thor. Bruce. Probably Fury. Really, his circle was a bit monotonous, people who could protect themselves just fine at most times, but simultaneously with high-risk job of being the first defence line for the world’s greatest threats.

And then there was you.

You, with your inviting smile whenever he appeared at your counter at the café he had discovered during his endless walks.

You, handing him a drink different to his usual ‘boring’ cup of joe once a week, because that was the deal you had offered and Steve, caught in his curiosity about today’s world and your adorable challenging expression, agreed.

You, with your pretty eyes, irises twinkling at his attempts at flirting, no matter how awkward and out-of-time they sounded, graciously returning the favour… if he was reading the situation right.

You, always grinning wide when discovering a doodle he had left on his napkin, taking it with you back to the counter.

You, blissfully unaware of his double life, genuine in your demeanour, dealing with plain old Steve Rogers, and perfectly safe; at least as safe as one could be on Manhattan.

You in a headlock, as five rogue SHIELD agents decided to crash into the café you worked at of all the damn places, choosing it with deadly precision and nearly driving the poor Captain America into a cardiac arrest.

Not that you had any idea your life mattered to the proclaimed Star-Spangled Man more than anyone else’s. You were the exception to the rule; you were the precious outsider Steve caught feelings for, the one that was not supposed to learn about his other persona for at least a while longer and sure as hell was not supposed to get herself in a mess like this one.

Steve stood frozen as Natasha had two men at gunpoint, Clint fighting another, the last one having been already knocked down by Steve himself. The only injured people were the few customers, scarce at the hour, and the employees; some bruises and insignificant bleeding wounds between all of them.

The worst problem still remained; Perez had his arm around your neck, visibly squeezing your windpipe at least partly if the colour of your face – one stained in tears and Steve could kill at the moment, kill with no remorse – was anything to go by.

He gripped his shield tighter, staring the man down with his jaw clenched and his heart beating its way out of his chest, the syringe at your carotid scaring him more than the reduced airflow to your lungs.

“It’s over, Perez! Let her- let the woman go,” Steve howled, knees slightly bend in posture allowing him to spring forward at any second, to throw his weapon, to punch the living daylight of the bastard that not only betrayed SHIELD, but put his hands on you.

Big, big mistake. He really shouldn’t have done that.

“I like her exactly where she is, Cap,” Perez snarled, a wicked smile on his bloody lips, only his eyes giving away a fraction of his fear. “Move and she gets a ticket straight to hell.”

Perez was outnumbered and he knew it; even if he managed to escape, they would find him easily with Tony Stark’s system of surveillance. Yet, he tightened his grip and with you involuntarily acting like a human shield for him, he started backing away, gaze flickering between the three present Avengers.

Natasha’s right arm twitched as if she wanted to shoot him on spot – but she didn’t want to risk leaving the other two without the threat of immediate death for even a second.

And then several things happened at once; Clint knocked his opponent down with the construction of his bow; Perez who saw it lost his nerve and swiftly slammed the needle into your neck, piercing your skin easily, as easily as Steve’s panicked shout ripped from his throat.

The next second, an arrow was sticking from Perez’ shoulder as he jerked back with a cry of pain and Clint put another arrow through his hand, adding one to his thigh for a good measure. Two gunshots sounded in the background, Natasha’s aim as unmistakable as ever.

Perez fell to the ground with a scream, not even reaching for the gun in his holster before Steve was there to knock him out with a brutal hit straight to his face with his vibranium shield. The crack sounding at the impact was like music to Steve’s ears, the blood spurting from Perez’ nose a pleasant visual.

Yet, it didn’t feel half as satisfactory as Steve hoped as you had stumbled and toppled over your own feet. He barely managed to slow down your fall, gloved palm shooting up under the spot between your shoulder blades, his other hand holding your shoulder. He supported your enfeebled weight as you practically lied over the unconscious man.

Steve didn’t bother paying attention to his surroundings, knowing that the noise around him was Romanoff and Barton apprehending the remaining thugs. Instead, his gaze scanned you head to toe, focusing on your face and neck when he couldn’t find any other injury.

You were pale, eyes misted, unfocused, skin worryingly cold to his touch.

“Hey-- hey! Can you hear me?” Steve demanded urgently, lightly patting your cheek.

At that, your pupils zeroed on him, wide with disbelief, and to his immense shock, a lazy smile spread on your lips.

“Steve?” you breathed out his name and blood crystalized in his veins, his heart, already panicking, speeding up. How did you know his name? Perhaps the drug, the whatever liquid in the syringe was taking effect and you were turning delirious? Shit, they needed a doctor-- “You’re the pretty blond. Steve. My flirty Steve… my hero. Everyone’s hero.”

Steve’s horror escalated with each word. Good news: you were still breathing and apparently quite lucid, even if your speech was more of a mumble. Bad news: his secret identity just blew up.

Luckily, he considered the good news much more important; and lucid he would like to keep you, so he shot Natasha and Clint a meaningful glare, wordlessly asking them to call help. He wasn’t sure whether it registered because both of the spies were staring at him wide-eyed as the woman in his arms just outed him like the café’s regular… one that flirted with her, no less.

Steve cleared his throat, focusing on his mission – to keep you talking. There was no much point in denying it, was it?

“Eh... yeah, it’s me. How-how did you know? I wear a mask-“

“Muscly… real muscly… and that ass,” you muttered and Steve nearly choked on his spit, certain that he just turned red all over, including the area you pointed out.

Wait, did that mean that you had been checking him out?

So not important right now.

“Oh, uhm- how are you feeling? We have to-“

“You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere,” you continued babbling as if you hadn’t heard him and Steve gulped, feeling his teammates, who still hadn’t called a doctor, what the actual hell- watching you with interest. ”…could bounce a penny off it… no, that ain’t right, a quarter off of it, that’s it… Dream of it sometimes… biting-“

Clint coughed loudly to cover his laughter, finally springing into action after that uncomfortable remark that gave Steve quite a visual he wasn’t sure how he felt about just yet.

“Alright, as amusing as this is, we should get her some medical attention…”

Steve only took his eyes off of you for a moment, shooting Barton a look that screamed ‘You think?!’

“I want to touch it… please lemme touch it—just once,” you pleaded quietly, swaying even in your practically horizontal position, straining your neck to catch a glimpse of the object of your interest. “The best I’ve even seen-“

“I think it’s ethanol she got injected with…” Natasha announced, sniffing the syringe with disgust in her voice. “High concentration.”

And Steve felt like he just got hit by Thor’s hammer… in his head. Seriously?

“…alcohol?” he asked, dumbstruck and utterly relieved, the heavy weight in his stomach lifting a bit. “You think she’s merely… drunk?”

“Well, alcohol straight to the bloodstream is seriously nasty on its own, S-“

“Alcohol nasty, yesss. And this really hurts,” your voice interrupted Natasha and Steve’s heart clenched uncomfortably when the surprised grimace appeared on your face, your eyes indeed clouding in pain, looking up at him, doe-eyed, so vulnerable and trusting.

“Hey, no sad Steeb! Your eyes pretty too. Little pictures you draw… so suuuper cute. I like your hair. You came in the day, wind blew, so messy-- like bed hair, wanna try top that-- I betcha I can do better-“

“Sounds drunk enough to you?” Natasha hummed casually and Steve didn’t even have to look at her to know she was smirking, while he was both fretting over your state and blushing to the roots of his hair because of your blunt compliments and unfiltered fantasies.

You turned your head slowly to Nat as she spoke, a crooked grin curling up your lips. “Hey, you’re pretty too-“

Much to Steve’s annoyance, the Russian spy had the audacity to chuckle and wink at you.

“Why thank you-“

“But prefer blonds,” you babbled again, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “He’s real nice. His biceps are like… huge. Bigger than my head-- ow, my head… spi-spinning- I think-? Whoa— oh… “

Steve called out your name in panic as you went limp in his arms, your body pliant, folding like a house of cards.

“I like her,” Clint noted as he jogged to Steve’s side, kneeling to take your pulse on the unharmed carotid with a furrow to his brows. “The medics are on their way, she’ll hold on until then.”

Steve sighed in relief when Clint nodded in affirmation again, feeling your heart still beating.

Steve’s grip on your tightened, hand sliding behind your head to cradle it gently rather than letting it dangle in such unnatural angle. He manoeuvred it so your cheek rested against his chest, his newly free hand sneaking under your knees so he could lift you with ease as he stood up.

“Nice, Rogers. Keep going like this, squads with weights, and you’ll keep that exceptional ass of yours in shape,” Natasha teased him, but when he turned to glare at her, she gave him a soft smile and beckoned towards your nearly motionless body. “She’ll be okay. Let’s go get her some help.”

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Your head was pounding. The right side of your neck was itchy as hell and felt extremely stiff. The beeping sounding in your ears was a thing from nightmares, echoing in your aching skull.

You felt like shit and honestly, you could cry when you tried to open your eyes and the sharp light hit them, making you swiftly close them again.

A realization slowly crept at you that there was a presence of an intrusive smell too, making you want to puke— or was that just the brutal hangover? Because you felt unbelievably hungover on top of everything. The world seemed to be spinning even behind your closed eyelids and you couldn’t but groan, deciding to only curse the universe mentally since your throat resembled a Sahara Desert.

“Oh, hey gorgeous,” a female voice greeted you from your left and you snapped your eyes open with a startle, staring with shock at the beautiful redhead sitting by your bedside.

For few long seconds, you wondered if you died and went to heaven, because there was a non-descript angelic-like creature watching over you. You quickly brushed that thought aside, because there was no way Heaven looked like a hospital room and provided you with such shitty sensations attacking your poor body.

So you asked the only logical question, ignoring the dryness of your mouth which soon cause you to cough.

“…who are you?”

A plastic cup with a heavenly cold liquid landed in front of you, the straw sticking from it directed to your lips as the stunning woman frowned discontentedly.

“Oh, you don’t remember?” she asked, seemingly hurt. “My heart is breaking! You told me I was pretty.”

You blinked slowly, finally adjusting to the light, finally able to talk without pain (that much pain, that was) and your head started pounding some more, embarrassment filling every fibre of your being.

What the- oh god, you had really got drunk, hadn’t you, and now you had a total blackout on what you had been up to in your questionable state.

“Eeeer… I did? I mean, you are… but-“

“But you prefer blonds, yeah, I know,” the mysterious woman finished your sentence to her liking and your eyes went wide. How did she- and who was she again, sitting in your hospital room like that? Had you really got so smashed that you didn’t remember her when you should have? When had you met? Shit, your mind was so foggy… “And you think Steve’s a bit prettier. And his ass is the best you’ve ever seen, so I get it…”

“The hell?!” you squealed in utter horror, sitting up straight as the words registered, a flash of blue, red and white flickering in the back of your mind, followed by a sharp stung in your temples. A nauseatingly strong pain resembling an intense cramp – only like ten times worse – shot up your neck as you moved so quickly, ripping a startled yelp from your throat.

A hazy image of the café you worked at blended into a picture Steve’s beautiful eyes – did this woman know your regular, your handsome flirty blond regular? –, sensation of gentle hands cradling your jaw, a sting in your neck—

“You need to be careful with how much you move. Your neck took quite a hit, they had to perform a surgery on you, you got a transfusion. They worried about your brain too. They’ve been monitoring you for four days now and this is the first time you’re awake,” your stranger explained patiently, voice full of compassion.

Your hand involuntarily rose to massage the incriminated place, still unsure of what the woman was talking about, the images in your brain confusing the hell out of you. You still had no idea who she was, but her face was starting to feel a bit familiar – you assumed that whatever had happened, she had been there too, possibly helping you.

And there was something in her green eyes, cautious yet somewhat calming, making it easy to trust her for some inexplicable reason.

“Steve’s gonna be pissed at me for missing it,” she added and grinned. “I made him leave to take care of himself before he could actually start taking roots in here. He’s been worried too. A lot.”

The amount of question marks in your head just doubled, but at the same time, your heart fluttered. Steve had visited you? Often, apparently? That was really, really sweet of him. The thought of him guarding you – and didn’t he have a physique of a bodyguard, once mentioning he was in private security when asked –, brought a dreamy smile to your face.

Perhaps it wasn’t only about flirting for him either…?

“Keep looking so lovestruck and I might forgive him that he hasn’t mention you before. Though I guess I can’t blame him, wanting to keep— anyway. I’m Natasha. Nice to meet you,” she extended her hand towards you at last and you automatically accepted it, telling her your name in return.

Even though that was probably beside the point seeing as she had been found at your bedside in a hospital.

“Hi, Natasha. Nice to meet you too… I think.”

The redhead burst out into a quiet laughter at your hesitance. “Fair enough. After Steve comes back and explains what exactly happened – because it’s not quite my place to tell you –, call me back for the good details. It’s fun to make him blush.”

Despite just only having met this woman, you decided that you kinda liked her and nodded in acceptance of her offer. Steve might be sweet – perhaps even sweet on you it seemed – but some harmless teasing could never hurt. Not when it apparently had something to do with his glorious ass.

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Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before injected with the serum or after, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would fight for what mattered.

His teammates and friends certainly fell into the category. The somewhat relationship he had been trying to build with you was right there with them, definitely worth fighting for.

So, after revealing his identity – an action which become inevitable at that point, really – he had a delicate confession to make and a bold question to ask in an almost shy voice. He still asked it, because he would be damned if he gave up on you.

You said yes, your confession about certain harboured feelings matching his.

You said yes, you would like to go out with him very much, because you liked him too.

And no, it wasn’t just because he owned the best backside you had ever seen. Steve Rogers was, according to you, quite memorable and worth fighting for in general too.

(Steve, over time, might have developed a bit of a love-hate relationship with the fact you were getting along with Natasha so well. It was good news and bad news at the same time, seeing as it often resulted in the two of you teaming up against him. Once again, the good news won him over… because he simply loved how easily you fit into his world and how surprisingly well he fit into yours.)

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S.R. masterlist

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Thank you for reading :-*

It’s once a again a bit different from my usual writing; it’s short (like wtf me? short?) and it’s with a quote that is hard to do justice to... so I hope you liked it at leats a bit. Feedback always appreciated :-*

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stubbychaos · 4 years ago

Text

Saviin’ika

Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: Paz Vizla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: You grew up hearing terrifying tales of Mandalorians and the atrocities they were capable of inflicting upon innocent people, but when a grouchy heavy-infantry warrior offers to walk you home after you treat his wounds, you think that perhaps they aren’t the scariest monsters that reside on Nevarro.

Rated: M for mature themes, though there’s no smut in this part.

Word Count: 6.1K

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, graphic injury involving intestines (not detailed at all, I literally just use the word ‘intestines’ to describe the injury), Paz gets stitches and hates needles just as much as I do, brief mention of an armed robbery.

Notes: This is so self-indulgent it’s not even funny lol. I just wanted more fluffy Paz fanfic since he only got like thirty seconds of screen time and I’m still thirsting over him. I plan on this being only a few chapters, but knowing me, I won’t know when to stop.

You’re not sure how you ended up in this position, currently taking care of a massive Mandalorian that had somehow been injured in some sort of intense scuffle, though you find it difficult to believe that anyone in the galaxy could get the upper hand on the intimidating warrior that absolutely towers over you by more than a foot.

You can’t even imagine anyone with the guts to try to take on someone so intimidating.

You’ve never seen a Mandalorian before, but you have heard old tales of vicious warriors made of metal that lived underground and took what they wanted without much regard for others, not caring if they had to hurt women or children to get what they wanted. Judging by the way he had stormed into the tiny infirmary, angrily demanding that you be the only one to tend to his wounds, you think the rumors must be true and you had accepted immediately, not wanting to be on the receiving end of the huge warrior’s wrath should you deny him. He hadn’t even asked where your office was, merely stalking past you after you had scrambled to get up from the front desk where you had been working on the reports you had been asked to work on and file.

Currently, you watch in awkward silence as he slowly detaches his massive weapon from his back, breathing a little harshly or grunting whenever he moves in a way that causes pain. You step forward and raise a hand to help him, but his helmet whips threateningly to where you’re standing and you immediately back up, fear turning into slight irritation because you’re a nurse and you should be helping someone who’s clearly uncomfortable. After a few painfully quiet moments, the Mandalorian finally props his massive weapon up against the stiff cot in the center of the room and moves onto removing his chest piece, though it seems to be a harder task for him.

“W-Would you like some help, sir?” Your question comes in the form of a meek murmur and he immediately freezes at the sound of your voice, his intimidating visor staring you dead on, “I-It just seems like you’re in quite a bit of pain. I don’t mind helping, really.”

His black gloves fall to his thighs and you watch with disdain as a few droplets of blood drip onto the white tile, though you take the defeated gesture as a sign that he’s willing to let you help him. You remain as professional as possible as you approach the huge warrior and bashfully reach up to undo one of the latches that rests above his collarbone before repeating the action with the other one, though you find it’s broken and slightly trickier to unlatch. Deciding it’s not a good idea to mention his shoddy armor, you remain silent as you stand on your tippy toes to remove the heavy piece of steel, a hand reaching around him to catch the back piece.

His helmet cocks to the side at the small huff you let out, not prepared for how heavy the piece of armor was.

After you help him remove the rest of his heavy cuirass and the extra padding covering his ribs, he surprisingly obliges your meek request for him to lay down on the stiff cot before you cautiously untuck his tunics from his utility belt that he refused to take off. Even with two dangerously deep knife wounds and several intense bruises, you think it makes him no less scary and you’re certain he can easily deal out some serious damage if he so desires, even in such a compromised position. The Mandalorian has over a foot on you and even before removing all of the padding and layers of clothing, you had been able to tell that he’s still a big guy, more muscular in certain spots than others and you force yourself to stop thinking about the softly defined abs that are currently exposed to you, both his gray and black tunics pulled up to his sternum. His skin is a beautiful, rich shade of brown, you notice as you briefly inspect the severity of his wounds and you can feel the intense heat that radiates from him, as if he’s a human furnace.

‘He is your patient,’ You remind yourself as you quickly stand up to gather a few things, including your thoughts, ‘A massive, terrifying patient that could easily crush you in the blink of an eye.’

You have your back to him, thoroughly washing your hands when you clear your throat and speak up quietly, “Can you tell me what you were stabbed with?”

“Does it make a difference? I’m injured, that’s all you need to know.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as you gather all the supplies you need before sitting in your chair and pointing your bright lamp at the severe injuries; you gain a little courage as you pull your surgical mask over the lower half of your face and slip on your glasses so you can see better, grateful that you can now focus on the injuries rather than the stubborn Mandalorian. The gashes are both several inches long and though they don’t seem critically deep, you can tell that he’s lost quite a bit of blood and will suffer severe consequences if you don’t help him soon.

“It just helps to know what weapon was used to cause the injury. If it was rusted metal, it can be more prone to infection--if it was glass, there could still be shards in the wound. I’m not asking about the circumstances involving how you got these injuries, just the weapons involved.”

He grunts and you pretend not to notice the way his fingers curl against the cot when you begin to flush out the wound. Something tells you that he’s not used to being the one getting injured during a battle and you can’t imagine a warrior bigger than him catching him off guard; you force yourself not to ask about the circumstances revolving around his injuries. You had learned long ago not to pry into the lives of criminals and bounty hunters, understanding that it always put them on edge and made them wary of you.

“It was a dagger--few inches long and definitely not rusty.”

“Does your left shoulder hurt at all?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

You huff a little, cheeks burning and you can’t tell if it’s from frustration or embarrassment, “The less critical wound is located in a spot where your spleen could have been affected if contact was made with the dagger, though it doesn’t seem to be deep enough to cause any trauma to the organ. A sharp pain in your left shoulder is oftentimes a sign of a ruptured spleen.”

You reach up to lightly dig your fingers into his firm shoulder, only pulling away when he shakes his helmet a few seconds later, “No, there’s no pain there.”

“Thank you. The wounds didn’t seem deep enough to cause any injury to any organs, but we don’t really have the proper technology to know for sure,” His visor tilts towards your face, though you don’t notice it as you remain concentrated on cleaning the nasty wounds before pulling out your suture kit, “The infirmary is low on supplies at the moment--a couple of raiders broke in a few weeks ago and took a lot of machines and medicine from us. I’m afraid I don’t have any bacta patches, but stitches should stop the bleeding just fine. You’re lucky the dagger wasn’t very long.”

“I got stabbed and you’re calling me lucky?” He doesn’t sound angry and something about his lighter tone makes you think it’s disbelief that his modulator hides.

You raise your brows and you’re grateful for the surgical mask hiding your amused smirk as you get to work on stitching up the deeper wound first, “Considering I had a Twi’lek come in earlier with his intestines practically falling out of his stomach, I would certainly say you’re one of the luckier patients I’ve ever gotten. Stab wounds and blaster shots I can handle, guts and brains are another story.”

“You’re a doctor, that stuff shouldn’t bother you.”

“I’m a nurse, actually. The infirmary only has one doctor and he barely works here since he’s always traveling,” You correct him, eyes trained on the way the curved hook of the needle pierces his skin, nylon thread bringing the torn flesh back together, “Sorry if you expected to be treated by an actual doctor when you stormed into the the infirmary asking for my help. There’s not really a huge need for medical professionals in the village--most people are dead before they even make it here.”

He makes a small noise from the back of his throat, “Makes sense. Surprised this place even has an infirmary in the first place.”

“Yeah, it’s not exactly the flashiest hospital in the Outer Rim,” You say sarcastically, tilting your head to the side as you lean over his torso to get a better look at what you’re doing, “Why did you ask for me?”

“You were the only one that actually looked competent,” He huffs, stretching his arm behind his head when you gently nudge his bicep a little, “Everyone else was standing around doing nothing. You were the only one actually working.”

You’re not sure if it’s a compliment or some sort of backhanded one, but you take it for what it is and continue your work, being as swift and precise as you possibly can. The Mandalorian, however, makes it difficult when he keeps shuffling around and you would have thought for such a big warrior, he’d be used to pain by now. If you were in any other situation, you might have found amusement at the thought of a huge Mandalorian hating needles, though you suspect it goes deeper than that and judging by the scarce amount of scars scattered on his torso, he must not get hurt often.

Men in this village tend to have quite a big ego and usually hate having their pride bruised; you think that maybe Mandalorians are no exception to that notion, especially when they are rumored to be the galaxy’s fiercest warriors.

You let out an exasperated sigh when he shifts for the umpteenth time and his helmet immediately jolts to stare at you through that unforgiving visor, “What? Something wrong?”

His tone is condescending and you wince a little.

Of course he’s just like the rest of your patients--rude and probably cruel.

“You just…” You cringe at how shaky your voice is and steel your nerves, “Could you stop moving so much, please? It’s slowing down the process and causing more unnecessary pain.”

You try to ignore the fact that there’s a vibroblade just inches from your face.

He grunts a little and turns his helmet to stare back up at the ceiling, growing deathly still underneath your skilled hands.

“Fine. Just hurry up.”

You bite your tongue and continue without so much as a nod. You’ve learned long ago that when it comes to patching up criminals or bounty hunters, they have no qualms about harming people smaller or weaker than them and this Mandalorian is quite possibly the strongest patient you’ve ever tended to and you’d rather not anger him. So, instead of rolling your eyes at the childish man, you continue to stitch the second wound that comes to a blunt end on the right side of his hip, just above his utility belt. After tenderly wiping the dried and fresh blood away from his torso, remaining mindful as you clean around the sutures, you begin to unroll a thick wad of gauze as well as some medical tape.

“The bruising on your ribs looks pretty intense,” You murmur after finishing with the stitches and lightly wrapping it with a bandage; you tilt your head a little at the way he jolts when you tenderly press a cool hand against his warm, bruised skin, “Did you hear a pop or crack when you were hit?”

“I don’t know,” He admits brusquely and you are all too aware of how bothersome bruised or broken ribs can be. Despite your better judgment, you think that perhaps that’s why he’s so cranky, “Couldn’t hear shit over the gunfire.”

You swallow the lump in your throat when you think of the massive weapon propped up against the cot, just inches away from your thigh, and you shake your head a little, “I think I might have a jar of bacta salve that could help with the soreness. If you apply it twice a day, it should speed up the healing process a considerable amount.”

“I don’t have enough credits for anything with bacta in it, so don’t even bother,” He grunts as he stubbornly sits up and lowers his helmet to inspect your work before turning to you, watching as you stand up.

You ignore his words as you approach the cabinet where you keep several clear jars filled with all sorts of vibrant, colorful liquids and gels and you think you feel his eyes on you as you stand on your tippy toes to reach the small jar on the top shelf. You were grateful that your little supply of homemade remedies and salves had remained untouched, for the most part, after the infirmary had been raided. You try to forget about the scary situation, though you still found yourself having nightmares of a Trandoshan pressing a blaster between your eyes, all while threatening to blow your brains out if you move an inch.

“Please, take it,” You insist, unscrewing the lid as you approach him and gathering the cold salve onto your fingers, “Something tells me you get injured a lot.”

His leather-clad fingers wrap gently around your wrist and stop you from rubbing the healing ointment into his skin; if you weren’t so terrified, you would have marveled at how massive his hand was compared to your much tinier one, “I don’t want your pity.”

Much to your dismay, your voice shakes a little when you speak in a whisper, and you feel the way he loosens his grip on you, though it hadn’t been painful or caused discomfort in the slightest; you’re somewhat surprised that he’s capable of gently handling someone so much smaller than him.

“It is not pity, Mandalorian.”

“Then what is it?”

“Kindness,” You murmur, feeling ridiculous when he scoffs at your answer and you just know that your cheeks are an angry shade of pink, “I do not wish to be as cruel as everyone else on this planet. I would like to think I would be shown the same kindness if I was as injured as you are, though I doubt one would help me. Besides, I don’t like seeing people in pain and I know broken ribs can be bothersome and painful.”

He silently stares at you for a few tense moments, his helmet giving you no indication as to what he’s feeling.

“Fine,” He lets go of your wrist and you let out a sigh of relief, hand shaking terribly as you begin to rub the salve against the worst of the bruising; you ignore the way he tenses under your hand and how he cocks his helmet to the side as he observes you closely, “That kind of attitude will get you hurt in a place like this.”

“I know,” Your cheeks flush and your eyes burn as you refuse to meet his gaze, your voice growing thicker and quieter when you speak again, “I know, but sometimes it doesn’t.”

He’s still staring at you as you finish up and he grunts a little when you offer him the deep, dull blue cuirass you had helped him remove earlier, carefully helping him put it back into place. After sheathing his huge canon against his back, he accepts the little jar of salve from you and tucks it into a little brown pouch attached to his utility belt with a disgruntled ‘thanks’. You’re not sure why you do it, but you instinctively trail behind him as he leaves the room and makes his way into the lobby; it’s not like he needs your assistance, but he doesn’t say anything to make you think he’s annoyed with you or doesn’t want you there.

It’s not until a deep voice calls out your name that you freeze in your footsteps and turn around with dread, the Mandalorian tilting his helmet to stare at you and an older man over his broad shoulder. Your own shoulders tense and are nearly touching your earlobes as your boss approaches you, looking angry and irritated with you even though you haven’t said a single word to him in hours.

His face is a deep shade of crimson and you can smell his putrid breath as he yells at you, “I thought I told you to have those reports done today by sundown and it’s almost kriffing midnight. I’m tired of telling you how to do your job! Am I not punishing you hard enough? Is that why you’re too stupid to understand how to do something as fucking basic as filing reports?”

“N-No sir,” You panic and instinctively flinch when he harshly grabs your bicep and violently rattles you, “Something came up, sir. I had a patient that had two stab wounds and I just uh, I figured that took priority over a few reports that aren’t crucial. He was in pretty bad condition and I just thought--”

“I don’t give a shit what you think takes priority over my demands,” He hisses, lowering his head to get in your face and intimidate you and you absolutely loathe that he succeeds in frightening you, “When I ask you to do something, you fucking do it without hesitation. I need a nurse that will do her job, not a useless pathetic excuse for a human being that can’t file a few reports by the deadline I give her. Is that understood?”

You blink away the tears and nod fervently, ignoring the bruising grip he has on your arm, “Good. Now get the fuck out of here. I can’t handle having you around fucking everything up right now. Go home.”

"But I--" You're cut off with a harsh squeeze and you try to keep the pain out of your voice when you speak in a quiet, shaky whisper, "Y-Yes, sir. I’m sorry."

When you turn around, lightly rubbing what you know is going to be a painful bruise in the morning, you're surprised to find the blue Mandalorian still standing near the entrance of the infirmary looking extremely tense--more so now than he had been earlier when you’d been stitching his wounds. His visor is trained on you and he's firmly holding the handle of his vibroblade; your eyes widen a little when you realize he had been seconds away from causing a scene and you wonder if the warrior would have actually killed your boss.

You remain frozen in place until his hand eventually falls from the handle and you skittishly brush past him, his visor following your quick pace as you leave the infirmary and hastily make your way down the empty street, your face flushed and tears burning your eyes.

You just want to go home and lay down and forget about everything that--

"Nurse," The Mandalorian’s deep voice immediately makes you freeze again and your shoulders hunch up when you hear his heavy footsteps slowly approaching you, slow and precise, like predator stalking its prey. Your eyes squeeze shut as you fear the worst case scenarios, knowing all too well of the kind of pain men of his size and strength could inflict on someone like you.

Oh Maker, were you all too aware of what cruel men were capable of.

When you apprehensively open your eyes, you find it impossible to look at his helmet and stare straight ahead at the center of his chest that’s protected by dull blue metal. You’re paralyzed with fear as you wait for him to strike--to shoot you or perhaps drag you behind the infirmary to have his way with you.

You prayed that he would kill you, rather than robbing you of that innocence that you still weakly held onto.

You’re frozen to the sidewalk when he finally comes to a stop about half a foot away from you, fingers clenching against his thighs and you feel ridiculous when a tear escapes the corner of your eye and slowly travels down your cheek. You’re not sure if the tears in your eyes are from your previous encounter with the older man who constantly made your life a living hell or the fact that there’s a possibility that you’re about to be brutalized by a terrifying Mandalorian.

His helmet cocks to the side when you take a tentative step backwards, your hands wringing together as vicious waves of nerves threaten to suffocate you.

“P-Please don’t--”

"It’s late and dangerous to be walking alone. I'm going to walk you home."

You flinch when he gently grabs your elbow and he's quick to drop it instantly, much to your surprise, "Y-You really… that's not necessary, really. I do this every night and usually don’t have a problem."

He grunts a little and holds out his own elbow for you to take, "It wasn't a question. You helped me and gave me medicine even though I had no credits to spare. Let me return the favor by walking you home,” You stare at his thick arm with distrust carved into your soft features and he must notice it because he eventually speaks up again, “If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it long ago, nurse. I have no desire to harm someone who doesn’t deserve it, especially you, of all people. Besides, even if you’re capable of protecting yourself, you’re clearly shaken up right now and not thinking straight.”

“I don’t know you,” The Mandalorian is still holding out his elbow for you to take as you argue with him in a weak murmur, “How am I supposed to believe you’re not just like the rest of them?”

He scoffs a little at your words, shaking his helmet as if he can’t believe you just compared him to a bunch of amateur criminals and bounty hunters, “I don’t like these people anymore than you do. I hate criminals that hurt others who don’t deserve it or can’t defend themselves. Let me walk you home this once and you’ll never have to see me again. You have my word.”

Something about the sincerity in his deep baritone leaves you a little breathless and you no longer feel as threatened by the Mandalorian and you think he’s being utterly genuine with you. There had been disgust in his voice as he spoke of ruthless criminals and perhaps you had misunderstood him and his intentions all along.

“Still don’t believe me?” He sighs when he mistakes your thoughtful silence for hesitance towards his insistent offer to walk you home, “Here, take my vibroblade and if you feel uncomfortable, I’ll let you stab me.”

‘I’ll let you stab me.’

It’s quite possibly the most ridiculous words that a man has ever said to you and your eyebrows shoot up at the nonchalance in his modulated voice, like this is something he says every day. You quickly stop him as he reaches for the handle of his weapon, though you’re not afraid of him hurting you with it, but more incredulous that this huge warrior would give you the chance to do such a thing.

“Haven’t you uh, been stabbed enough for one day?”

His chest heaves and you’re surprised by the deep laugh he lets out at your innocent question, adamant about placing the heavy weapon in your palm, “Yes, I think I have. Now let’s get going.”

“O-Okay,” Your heart is still frantically beating from the initial fear of him taking advantage of you, along with the strange feeling of such a sharp weapon in your hand, “It’s just--it’s kind of a long walk and I’m sure you have better things to--”

“I don’t,” He firmly interjects, almost sounding exasperated with you, “C’mon, tighten your grip on that vibroblade. The later it gets, more rats come out of hiding and target people like you.”

Hesitantly, you curl your fingers into the crook of his elbow just above his vambrace, testing the thickness of the fabric there and squeezing until your fingers stop shaking. You can feel the heat radiating from his skin underneath his tunic and relish in it a little, the atmosphere of Nevarro quite brisk this late at night.

“Thank you for doing this,” You whisper, cheeks burning brightly at how close you are to someone so powerful while holding one of his weapons,“I-It means a lot to me.”

“You said you do this every night.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip as you think of all the bad run-ins you had whenever you had to walk home this late without the protection of a Mandalorian, “It doesn’t make it any less scary when these bounty hunters and criminals find out I’m nothing more than the village nurse.”

You pretend not to notice the way he tenses next to you.

As you lead him to your little hut on the outskirts of the quiet village, you remember all the stories of how Mandalorians were vicious savages and you wonder just how accurate they are. You can't imagine someone with an inherently violent disposition offering you his arm and blade while he walks you home and perhaps your initial impression of the Mandalorian was made in too much of a haste. A few late night stragglers sneer at you and the unfazed Mandalorian and even though you should feel frightened to be walking home alone with a fierce warrior, you find that his presence has quite the opposite effect as people move out of his way to avoid any confrontation.

You can’t remember the last time you actually felt safe walking home so late and you’re barely aware of the way you push yourself closer against his side.

"That man," The Mandalorian's deep voice startles you and you notice him drop his tone in the slightest, "Does he always treat you that way? That roughly?"

You're surprised that he's actually starting a conversation with you, as he seems to be a man of very few words, but you think over his blunt question and carefully choose your words, "It is for my own good. How am I supposed to learn and become a better nurse if I can't follow simple orders?"

"He shouldn't put his hands on you like that. It’s not right when he’s larger than you and you can’t defend yourself properly."

You smile sadly and gaze up at the twinkling stars dotted in the night sky, "He is my boss and my father. He can do whatever he wants as long as I'm working for him and living under his roof.”

“Father?” He cocks his helmet to the side, as if he’s confused by your words, though all you hear is disgust in his modulated voice when he speaks, “A father should never lay a hand on their child the way he did with you earlier. Parents are supposed to protect their family, not hurt and bruise them. He should feel ashamed of the way he treats you and how he talks to you--it’s dishonorable.”

“I am an adult, not a child,” You lazily give him a single-shouldered shrug and sheepishly turn your attention to your worn out boots and your bruised knees that peek out just from the hem of your dress, “It doesn’t bother me. Like I said, it’s better for me to learn this way and he only does it because I’m always messing up.”

“It should bother you,” The Mandalorian shakes his helmet and you think he must be pitying you or judging you, “You should stand up for yourself and leave. Make a better life for yourself.”

You huff out a small laugh, though there’s nothing funny about his words or yours, “Tell me, Mandalorian, where would I go? There is only one infirmary in the village and it’s owned by my father and I have no other useful skills that would help me thrive in a village overrun by bounty hunters and criminals. The nearest city is hundreds of miles away from here and I do not make nearly enough to afford transportation nor to start my life over; my father made sure of that.”

You’re smiling, but it’s bitter and wistful, wondering why this Mandalorian wanted you to fight for a better life when there was no such thing that existed for you on this planet, “It is easy for you to tell me to fight for myself when you are covered from head to toe in impenetrable steel. My father could ruin my life if he so desired and I would not give him reason to punish me more than he has already.”

“That is no way to live, orikih baar’ur. The way you are treated is no better than the way an owner treats their slave.”

You don’t understand the language and wonder if he’s judging you in his native tongue, and even though you try to shrug it off, you still feel the pain on your shoulders and arms from your last punishment.

“It’s not living,” You agree, lightly squeezing his arm to reassure him that you’re fine, though you think you’re trying to reassure yourself more, “But I’m still surviving and doing what I love the most, helping others. It would be selfish of me to ask for more.”

The Mandalorian grows silent and you wonder what’s going through his head as you lead him through the village, where clustered buildings eventually give way to smaller houses and huts that could do with some renovation and patching up. You think of your own hut that could do with some fixing up, what with all the holes that have been punched through the walls in your father’s fits of rage, or the way rain trickles through cracks in the ceiling and oftentimes leaves you feeling sick with a fever after a night of tossing and turning on a wet mattress. Thinking of how you grew up so poorly and in a hostile environment, it makes you think far more of the Mandalorian’s blunt words and something awful churns in the pit of your stomach.

‘That is no way to live…’

You lift your head up to the stars again and wonder what lingers beyond this forsaken planet, what beauty exists in the galaxy. You had once heard tales of planets covered entirely in oceans or jungles and as you peer at the rocky and volcanic terrain that surrounds the two of you for as far as the eye can see, you wonder what beautiful sights the Mandalorian must have experienced during his years of travel. You remember a patient of yours describing the beauty of Naboo and all of the sights she had witnessed during her weeks of residing on the planet. Even in your wildest dreams, you couldn’t envision massive rolling plains of emerald grass, or glimmering sapphire oceans with waves just as violent as the most fearsome warrior you’ve ever met, the man walking next to you.

You wonder what it must feel like to have a cool, fresh breeze kiss your flushed skin.

You try to imagine tasting ripe, fresh fruit, rather than bland ration bars, or the scent of sweet flowers tickling your nostrils, rather than the putrid scent of some poor creature being roasted alive.

“My place is just up ahead.”

He must hear how forlorn you’ve become, voice slightly high-pitched and crackly, as if you’re trying your damned hardest not to break down in front of him, because he tilts his helmet to gaze down at you.

Your cheek is nearly grazing his bicep and you don’t even realize how close you are to him until you smell blaster fire and something spicy on the fabric of the long-sleeved gray tunic he wears underneath a short-sleeved black one. He’s warm, you realize, despite being covered in cold blue metal, and you wonder how such a huge, cold man could make you feel the safest you’ve felt in years, before your mother had passed away and your father was a little less cruel, though not by much.

You swallow the lump in your throat when the hut you share with your father grows closer and dread threatens to send you fleeing in the opposite direction, though you’re willing to stay next to his side just to enjoy a few rare moments of serenity. Your father won’t be home for another few hours and you hope by then, his anger will have dulled into harmless embers, though you won’t get your hopes up.

“Thank you again for walking me home,” You clear your throat when you two come to a stop in front of the sad excuse for a home and you reluctantly pull away from him, fingertips grazing the crook of his elbow before falling to your side, “They don’t speak too kindly of Mandalorians around here, you know?”

He cocks his helmet downwards and to the side, seeming all too comfortable to speak with you before parting ways, “What do they say?”

“My father used to tell me tales of your people being savages,” You sound shameful as you confess this, tilting your head upwards the tiniest bit to gaze at the geometric emblem embedded into his cuirass, “That Mandalorians would kill innocent people and steal from them with no remorse, that they wouldn’t hesitate to kill women and children, or even torturing them. My father told me your people were worse than the monsters that plagued my dreams.”

You don’t back off when he steps a little closer and reaches out to lightly touch the little violet you always keep tucked behind your ear or in the soft weaves of your braids when it’s too hot to wear your hair down. It was something you wore in your hair every single day since your mother’s death, as she would always stick violets in your thick braids whenever she would style your hair in the morning when you were younger. You remember how she would explain the several medical uses for violets--how it was versatile and could be used for compresses, salves, soothing teas, poultices and much more.

You hadn’t even realized it had become a habit to constantly wear the pretty wildflowers in your hair until the Mandalorian unknowingly pointed it out.

“And what do you think about my people?”

“I used to believe the stories,” You hesitantly crane your neck backwards to peer into his t-shaped visor, wondering if he has warm, soft eyes that betray his cold, modulated voice and you watch as his hand promptly drops to his thigh before he can touch your ear, “Now I think the monsters in my nightmares are far more terrifying than the Mandalorian who walked me home tonight. If your people are anything like you, then I think the rumors are just that--silly rumors that should be ignored.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” His voice drops into a cool rasp that sends shivers up your spine and for what reason, you’re not so sure, “You don’t know what I can do.”

“I don’t need to,” You murmur just as quietly, eyes desperately searching everywhere on his dull blue helmet and you count the number of scuffs created from blaster shots or perhaps sharp daggers like the one he had been attacked with earlier, “You told me yourself that you have no desire to harm innocent people. I think you are the first man on this planet to show me any form of kindness.”

“I don’t doubt it,” He reaches for your arm, just as he had done earlier when he’d first insisted on walking you home, however, this time you don’t flinch and he cocks his helmet a little as he lightly strokes the inside of your clothed elbow with a leather thumb, “Good night, saviin’ika.”

“W-Wait!”

He tilts his helmet to the side when you quickly hold out his vibroblade that you had loosely been holding onto the entire walk home, almost forgetting that he had let you borrow it in case you felt the need to protect yourself against him.

You hadn’t--not once.

“Keep it, at least for now,” He reaches out to gently curl your thin fingers back around the handle, speaking up quickly when you part your lips to protest, “You shouldn’t be walking around without anything to protect yourself, especially this late at night.”

“But wh-what about you?”

Immediately, your eyes land on the heavy cannon attached to his back, along with the blaster on his hip and you cringe, knowing that this warrior would undoubtedly be able to take care of himself without his small blade. Still, you think the Mandalorian is amused as he straightens up and places his hands on his hips, just above his utility belt, and tilts his head backwards and to the side.

“I think I will somehow manage,” He sounds just as amused as you figured he would, “Anything else?”

You hesitate, cheeks still burning like hot coals, “Will I see you again?”

“What? Want to see me get injured again?”

You can’t stop yourself from smiling when you detect a twinge of amusement in his deep voice, “You don’t need to go and hurt yourself to come visit me, Mandalorian. I would prefer to see you in one piece and those ribs all healed. Don’t forget to use that salve--”

“Twice a day,” He finishes and shakes his helm a little at the bright smile you give him, “Take care of yourself, saviin’ika. Don’t hesitate to use that vibroblade if anyone threatens you.”

“Thank you, Mandalorian. See you soon.”

orikih baar’ur= tiny medic

saviin’ika=little violet

#so like #I thought I was done thirsting over our big blue boi #but I just watched Us and all I can think of is thick Winston Duke playing Paz Vizla and YALL #I'm thirsty all over again #Sorry Jon Favreau #anyways #I'm a sucker for those ships where person A is soft AF and person B is a big old grouch #paz vizla x you #paz vizla x reader #Mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #my writing

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readyplayerhobi · 4 years ago

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Flower | 28

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff

; Word Count: 4.3k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: After a month of no Flower...here’s a chapter. Please reblog and let me know what you thought in comments or an as! I’ve been struggling a lot with writing lately and feedback really does help to motivate me!

; Flower Masterpost

Taking in the sight of the tattoo gun and all the necessary accessories that are being prepped in front of you, you can’t help but purse your lips in slight worry. As excited as you were for this, you were also afraid that it was going to hurt. Because getting a tattoo wasn’t a quick process.

Nervously, you glance over at Hoseok. He’s sat on a stool that Jay, the tattoo artist, had brought over for him while you sit on the padded, leather chair. Taking in your uncertain expression, he gives you a bright smile before squeezing your hand to give you a little reassurance. Which you need, because you were a big baby when it came to pain.

“You’ll be okay, I swear. You’ve watched me get tattooed before.” Hoseok says sweetly, white teeth flashing for a moment as he grins once more in another effort to soothe your worries. It doesn’t work though, as you almost immediately begin to frown upon remembering the one time you’d gone with him to watch him get tattooed.

“Yeah...and you ended up crying in pain.” Twisting his lips in a grimace, Hoseok’s expression is suddenly unsure before he sighs deeply in acknowledgement. Lifting your hand, he kissed the back of it gently before running his thumb along the thin, soft skin.

“Hey...I was getting tattooed on my ribs. That’s one of the worst places to get done because you’re tattooing on bone and muscle. Jay can attest that yours isn’t going to be that bad, I swear.” His tone is gentle and you can tell he’s trying to keep you calm. Glancing over at Jay, you watch as the tattoo artist finishes up his preparations before giving you a wry smile.

“He’s right. I won’t lie, it might hurt but if it does, it should get better hopefully. If it gets really bad though, tell me. We can stop if you can’t handle it. You will end up with only a partial tattoo but...” His shoulders shrug casually beneath his Amon Amarth shirt and you want to complain. But then you realise he’s right, and he’s only telling you the truth.

Grinding your teeth together, you sigh deeply before nodding at him in acceptance.

“Okay. I’m a big girl, I can cope with this.” That line is directed at Hoseok, your tone slightly sarcastic and he snorts in response. Leaning forward, he gives you a quick peck on the lips before settling back and starting up a conversation between the three of you once you approve the positioning.

There’s a brief pause before you feel Jay’s cool, glove covered fingers pressing against your shoulder to make sure he gets the right angle. Your first dip into the tattoo world as going to be a small one; just a watercolour style tattoo after extensive research. Jay had frequently tattooed Hoseok over the years and so had been Hoseok’s number one recommendation, leading to him creating a pretty little cherry blossom flower design.

The first press of the tiny needles makes you flinch slightly as they begin to prick and you wince at the slight sting before breathing out slowly. It’s not as bad as you’d thought it was going to be in reality though you certainly wouldn’t want to have to sit for hours upon hours and have large, intense pieces done as Hoseok does. Still, you felt like this was a little bonding moment between you the two of you.

Even if there was a third person here, but whatever.

You weren’t getting the tattoo because of him exactly, but you wouldn’t deny that he’d been a big part of why you’d finally made the decision. Tattoos have always been something that you thought were pretty but they were also something you’d never considered getting as they were permanent. But Hoseok’s love and pride for his own had led to you gaining a new appreciation for them too.

When you’d told him that you wanted to get one, and what kind of style you wanted as well, Hoseok hadn’t asked if you had a special meaning behind it. One of his philosophies, when it came to tattoos, was that you didn’t always need to have a special reason to get a tattoo. It was more than acceptable to get something just because you thought it looked cool or pretty.

You’d discovered early on in your relationship that Hoseok had a real axe to grind against anyone who wanted to gatekeep tattoos and make it so that you always had to have some sentimental reasoning for it. He’d said something along the lines of ‘this isn’t fucking American Idol or X-Factor and you don’t need to have some dying relative to get it. Just get something cos it looks badass if you want.’.

But you did personally have a reason for getting it. Firstly, you’d made sure that Jay made it look pretty enough that you wanted to go through with the pain and have it on you. The second reason, which was incredibly cheesy and you’d rather die than tell anyone the meaning because you can’t handle emotions well, is because it’s a flower.

Part of it was that you’d met Hoseok on an app called Flower, which had led to the most important relationship you’d ever had. It wasn’t his name or anything, but more symbolic of how you’d met. The other major reason for it was that it was a symbol of how much you’d grown over the past year, becoming more confident in yourself and accepting that while you may have weaknesses, they didn’t make you weak overall.

Your research had shown that the cherry blossom, aside from just looking pretty, was also seen as the symbol of renewal and life. They’re only around for a few days, maybe a few weeks, every year but they’re bright symbols of beauty and happiness. Your own life had been renewed in the last year with all the changes that you’d experienced and you just wanted a little reminder that your while you’d struggled, your life was just as bright.

And that kind of cheesy talk was exactly why you wouldn’t explain the meaning to anyone. Not that Hoseok had pried too hard, though you were certain he’d probably at least figured out the whole Flower app connection. He hadn’t mentioned anything though.

As a result, you’d decided to get the tattoo on your first anniversary together. Which obviously, was today. It truly boggled your mind to realise that you’d been in a relationship for a whole year now. A year of being romantic with someone and them not getting bored or tired of you. Hoseok was still here and he loved you more than ever.

Technically, you didn’t have an actual anniversary. Neither of you had formally asked the other to be in a relationship. It had ended up being one of those weird adult relationships where you just start dating and just never stop. As a result, you’d both agreed that you’d the anniversary of your first date to symbolise the beginning of your relationship.

It was the first time you’d been together after all, and neither of you had even looked at anyone else since then. A whole year later, including many moments of bickering, confusion, anxiety, panic attacks, depression and moving your whole life around, here you both were. Still together, very much in love and tentatively looking forward to the future.

As a result of moving in the last month, the two of you had initially agreed not to get presents for each other today as a lot of money had been spent buying the things you needed to fill and decorate the house. Yet it had become quickly apparent that you both seemed to have secretly agreed to spoil the other with the excuse of ‘it’s our first anniversary, I can’t just get you nothing!’ being thrown around a lot.

You’d been bought the cutest fluffy Pikachu that you’d spotted in a store earlier today and he’d promised to pay for this tattoo given it was your first. And you weren’t any better as you’d bought him the BluRay boxset of the Godfather along with a gift box of flavoured teas that he’d been surprisingly excited over.

After your meltdown in the house the other week, it felt nice to be back to being happy. You still weren’t completely content or settled, but you’d managed to get yourself to relax enough to not snap or get grumpy with Hoseok anymore. The house was mostly finished with only the yard needing to be done, but you’d both agreed to wait until springtime for that.

It didn’t feel like home yet, but you knew it was just a matter of time.

But yeah, your anniversary was going pretty great so far. Even if you were having to put up with being pricked hundreds of times with the tattoo gun. You tried your hardest to ignore it and instead focused on Hoseok. He was busy talking to Jay while occasionally stroking his thumb over your hand, absentmindedly comforting you.

Looking him over carefully, you took the time to simply admire him. How you’d managed to end up with such a stunningly handsome man as your boyfriend, you’d never know. Or understand, not that you were ever going to complain. What was even more baffling to you was the fact that along with being one of the most beautiful people you’d ever seen, he had a heart that was perhaps even more beautiful.

You were sure that if you’d ended up dating anyone else, you would have probably had multiple arguments that resulted in someone storming out by now. Or the relationship would have been ended long ago. Yet the most you’d done with Hoseok was bicker over small things with the incident the other week being the most friction you’ve had so far.

That was probably solely down to the fact Hoseok seemed to the unnatural patience of a saint. Something you didn’t take for granted, that was for sure. Just the thought of it has an overwhelming surge of love swelling in your chest.

You wished that you were the kind of person who could easily vocalise your feelings. It frustrated you eternally that you weren’t because there were so many times you wanted to tell him you love him. Instead, you gently poke at his hand with your free hand. Happiness fills you as he smiles at your way of telling him that you love him, poking your calf gently in response while carrying on his conversation.

He’d probably never realise how important he was to you. How much he’d helped you to grow as a person and with your personality. You owed him a lot and you would happily spend as long as he let you repay it. Not that he’d like that idea if you told him of course, but you didn’t care. You loved him, more than he’d ever know.

Tuning back into the conversation, you realise that they’ve been talking about the next tattoo that Hoseok wants. He was planning on getting a watercolour style tattoo similar to yours only he was contemplating having it be space-themed to match his sleeve. Jay is nodding as he discusses options with Hoseok, occasionally checking on you with a gentle touch before carrying on once he realises you’re okay.

And then the conversation moves back round to you and your tattoo. Jay had designed it after Hoseok had made the appointment for you and you’d emailed over what you were thinking. He’d sent over the design and tweaked it to your desire and finally, you were here today, getting it done.

But apart from that, he didn’t have much knowledge of why you wanted it. Given Hoseok was a long time client of his, he had trusted that your boyfriend had given you enough information to make sure you were knowledgeable at what you were getting into. He’d sent over stuff as well but you’d discussed it in depth with Hoseok to make sure you were comfortable.

“So how come you decided today to get your first tattoo? And I’m honoured to be the artist you chose by the way.” Jay says, his tone sweet and you look to him giving Hoseok a slightly sarcastic smile. He’s given one back by your boyfriend and you snort, rolling your eyes at their interaction. As if Hoseok would let you go to anyone else other than his trusted artist.

“Err well...I’ve been considering it a while but wasn’t sure whether to get it or not. And Hoseok said I should try and go to you if I did want it as you’ve always done good work for him, so...yeah. I just decided I want it.” You mumble out, shy at explaining why you’d finally gotten a tattoo. There’s nothing more to say on that and Hoseok squeezes your hand in reassurance before taking over the conversation for you.

“And it’s today because it’s our anniversary so...why not get your first tattoo on your first anniversary, right?” Hoseok grins broadly, letting his fingers lace with your own and you feel yourself go warm at his pride and the affection laced into his voice. Jay pauses what he’s doing for a moment to look at you both with surprise.

“It’s your anniversary today? Oh man, congrats. Happy anniversary,” You grin at his good wishes for you both before he carries on, the needles pressing into your skin once more. “A whole year, that’s great. How did you both meet then?”

Hoseok glances at you with a small smile, wrinkling his nose slightly until you give him a smile in response. He seems happy with that and kisses your hand once more, playing with your fingers as his gaze turns back to Jay.

“Online dating, believe it or not.” There’s a snort of what sounds like amusement from behind and you frown, wondering what’s so amusing about that. Lots of people get together through online dating. That’s the whole point of it. Or is it that someone like Hoseok was on an online dating service? It still confused you, in fairness.

“Oh yeah? Take one look at the pretty lady and decide she was going to be your girl?” He teases and you see Hoseok’s smile turn devilish.

“More like she saw this handsome specimen and decided she wanted a piece of that.” Now you’re the one pulling a face at him, rolling your eyes at his bravado while being secretly amused the whole time. He wasn’t wrong in reality, only you hadn’t been quite as bold as he made you out to be.

“Would you and your ego like some space? I’m sure I can arrange that for you. Also, we love a woman who knows what she wants and goes for it.” Jay applauds you, smirking at Hoseok’s outraged face in pure glee and you can’t help but laugh softly at them both. It was obvious they’ve known each other awhile with how they interacted and you liked how Jay made you feel at ease.

“It wasn’t as...bold as that.” You murmur shyly, looking down at your hands as you recall the panic and anxiety you’d felt after messaging Hoseok the first time. It was hard to believe you’d come so far since then. Even harder to believe that outrageously attractive man was now not only your boyfriend but living with you.

“Ignore her. She’s weirdly bold in ways you wouldn’t expect. But anyway, yeah. Officially one year together today. Can you believe it?! Me? In a relationship with the prettiest and funniest girl for a whole year?” Hoseok snorts as he makes an incredulous face while Jay laughs as well.

You’re not sure what to make of that at first before you recall that they’ve known each other years and Hoseok had been pretty notorious before you. Though his compliment does make you squirm in embarrassment, a desperate need to deny his words bubbling inside you.

“I’d say it’s shocking but honestly, you’ve been looking at her with the biggest heart eyes this whole time. So not really. I’m happy for you both though.” He says and you can practically hear the smile in his voice even though you can’t see him. It’s not too long before he’s finished with you, cleaning up and showing what your tattoo looked like to you to make sure you’re happy and then covering it.

You were beyond pleased with the tattoo, excitement flooding through you as you’d looked over it and realised it was even better than you’d hoped for. Grinning at Hoseok as you stood up, you gripped his hands tightly before wiggling with a bright smile.

“It’s so pretty!” He’s smiling at you in agreement as Jay cleans up his workstation before you all move over to the front desk to pay. The sweet receptionist from earlier is there, covered in even more tattoos and piercings than both men with you. At her request, you show off your new tattoo with a happy smile and accept her compliments with joy.

“How much again?” Hoseok asks, pulling out his wallet. You frown at him immediately, lips pursing into a pout as you remember he’d said that he was going to pay for it but he just tuts at you, shaking his head. “Shh, anniversary present, remember?”

Pushing at his stomach lightly, you sigh as you realise you’re not going to win this argument. Not that you were even arguing really, but you knew that Hoseok would refuse point blank to let you pay for this. Plus, you would admit to enjoying being spoiled by him sometimes. It wasn’t something you were used to but you couldn’t help enjoying it when he did it.

“Actually, it’s on the house today,” Jay says with a smirk, looking you both over with what looks suspiciously like fondness in his eyes. “Consider it my present to you both for your anniversary. Maybe you can make this a little tradition and I’ll see you both for many more years.”

Hoseok is silent and you look up to see his jaw dropped. It’s not often you get to see him so surprised and you can’t stop the giggle that leaves you at the sight of it. Smiling at Jay, you thank him profusely and squeeze Hoseok until he’s muttering out thanks as well.

“It’s nothing. Use that money to spoil your girl today. And I hope you’re okay with being spoiled.” Jay grins, tilting his head at you as he practically gives you both an order. It might not be overly feminist of you right now but you certainly weren’t going to say no to it. You’d never had an anniversary before and damn it, you wanted the full experience!

“I will, I promise. Thanks, man.” Hoseok reaches forward and does that whole man hug thing with Jay, causing you to roll your eyes with the receptionist in amusement. Jay doesn’t try anything with you and you suspect Hoseok had probably told him you weren’t fond of physical contact from others. Instead, he gives you a nod of goodbye as you both leave.

“That was nice of him.” You murmur, brow rising as you take Hoseok’s hand and link your fingers together. He hums in acknowledgement, lips twisting slightly as a light frown touches his forehead.

“It was. So you like your tattoo?”

“I do, it’s so pretty. I didn’t think it’d look this good but...I like it.” Smiling up at him sweetly, you don’t miss the way Hoseok’s eyes soften as he looks down at you. Jay was right, he did go all heart eyes around you. Not that you were going to complain though.

“Good, I’m glad. I’ll make sure we look after it properly. For now, though, I’m hungry so how about we go get something to eat?” He throws his arm around your shoulder, hands still linked together so that you end up with your arm crossing over your chest. Laughing at the movement, you happily push into his side as he pulls you even tighter to him before agreeing.

“Okay, but you pick. We’ve been sat there for over an hour now just for me. Your choice.” Hoseok’s about to complain before sighing and giving in, letting go of your hand to purse his lips as he hums in contemplation. Your lower lip juts out at the loss of contact with him and you momentarily pause in bemusement at how much you’ve come to love physical affection from him when you dislike it from others.

“Let’s recreate our first date and go to the Indian restaurant. Only this time, let’s not talk about girls throwing up on my dick and end the date with us going home and having some hot anniversary sex instead.” Raising a brow at him, your lip quirks in amusement momentarily.

“You never cease to amaze me when horny, you know that? You just literally talked about someone vomiting on your dick and then went straight into having sex. Ew.” Wrinkling your nose, Hoseok snorts in amusement before grinning broadly.

“Look, we’ve established many times by now that when I’m horny, my IQ drops to almost single digits. Anyway, we’re not doing it now. We’re gonna eat and then go do it.” Laughing, you stop to wrap your arms around his waist and hug him tightly, resting your chin on your chest to look up at him as a confusing array of positive emotions bubbles and swirls around your body.

“Okay...that sounds good…” You trail off, brows creasing as you feel so many words and emotions stalling in your throat. Like a lump, you can’t get past. Instead, you squeeze him harder before pushing up onto your tiptoes to kiss him. He lets you, amusement causing him to chuckle slightly as he carefully hugs you back.

“I love you too. Now let’s go eat, I’m so damn hungry you can probably feel my belly rumbling.”

Wincing slightly, Hoseok manages to shift until his arm is sliding out from underneath you. Massaging feeling back into it, he clenches and unclenches his hand before settling onto his back more comfortably. As much as he loved to cuddle you at night, he did often end up with a dead arm.

Sighing quietly, he stares up into the darkness of the bedroom. Your breathing is slow and steady, a calming and soothing sound to his ears as you sleep comfortably. Without even realising it, he's smiling gently before glancing over at you.

A whole year. He'd been with you for a whole year. If someone had told him this two years ago, he'd have laughed. Even though he was in a much better place than when he was a teenager, he knew that some part of him had avoided relationships. Like he still hadn't felt worthy of one.

He did now. He had to. You didn't deserve anything less. And if that sounded cheesy then dammit, it was his first anniversary. He was allowed.

Thinking over everything that has happened in the last year, he feels immense pride at how much you've grown. How comfortable you've become in yourself around him. How happy you are. There were bumps along the road of course, but the two of you had gotten through it.

Expanding his cheeks almost childishly, he lets out a slow and deep breath as he contemplates just how mushy he's being. If the guys could hear his thoughts…

And it's then that he realises he hasn't even posted anything today. Nothing to declare to the world that you'd both made it a year. Even when people hadn't expected you both to last a month.

Grabbing his phone from the nightstand, he unlocks it and opens Instagram. Choosing the right pictures takes him a solid 10 minutes. He has so many and he wants to make sure that you'll approve of each picture that he chooses.

Finally, though, he settles on them. A selfie of you both grinning broadly from today, the photo of him kissing your cheek from his birthday, a picture of you sat reading a book in your old apartment, a selfie of the two of you kissing and finally, a picture of you holding Kasumi and smiling so big.

Each one gets edited carefully until he's happy with them, moving forward to the part where he has to write. Glancing at the time on his phone, he sees that he has fifteen minutes left of his anniversary.

So he starts to write.

Jungsevenfold: Today we celebrated our first anniversary!

One whole year of being with the funniest, kindest and on occasion, strangest, girl I've ever met. I've learnt many things being with you, from discovering I like board games to the fact it's a bad idea to destroy the moon.

I'm never quite sure what you're going to say and I love that. I love the way your mind works, what you find funny and so much more. We're often told we're mismatched but I think it's working out. Better than anyone thought.

I think this is long enough and mushy enough, so I'll finish up. Y/N, my princess, my little meeple; I love you ❤🥰. So may we have many more years!

/cheesiness

Posting it, Hoseok watches it upload and feels a momentary pang of embarrassment at what he'd written. But glancing back over to you, he pushes it away. You deserve for him to yell his feelings.

Rolling over, he places his phone back before smiling to himself and wriggling into the covers. You're hard enough on yourself, so if a little embarrassment on his behalf can make you smile.. then it's worth it.

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oh-so-scenarios · 4 years ago

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ᴛʜᴇ sᴇʀᴇɴᴅɪᴘɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪɴɢs...♠| 12

⤖ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴀs ᴛɪᴍᴇ ғᴏʀ sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇs? Jᴜɴɢ Hᴏsᴇᴏᴋ ɪs ᴛᴏᴏ ʙᴜsʏ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏғ ʜɪs ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ɴᴇᴛᴡᴏʀᴋ. Hᴇ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇʀᴇɴᴅɪᴘɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ʜɪs sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ…ʀɪɢʜᴛ?

⤖ Mᴀғɪᴀ Lᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ Hᴏsᴇᴏᴋ x ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇ!ᴀᴜ

Warnings: Violence, mentions of death, blood, Smut.

This is a Hoseok POV recap chapter. Everything moves in order, it starts back at their first meeting all the way to chapter 11. A lot of time jumps.

****Please ignore any errors! (Word Count: 15.6K)

Previous | Next ◀ ▶ Series Index | Masterlist

Hoseok’s POV:

What the fuck? What the fuck? I’m certain that the disdain wasn’t visible on my face, but my injuries were the least of my problem. My eyes stayed focused on the medical degree that hung up on her wall, avoiding her curious gaze.

This week has been a shit fest and it’s gotten worse.

I let Yoongi convince me that Jungkook was able to handle a heavy mission on his own. I don’t know why I allowed myself to be swayed. I knew he couldn’t handle it. Jungkook has the muscle, but lacks the ability to hide what he's thinking. His face gives a way his emotions, and I should have known better.

We lose contact with him, only to hear some woman say she’s taking him to the hospital? Oh great. I was already trying to gather a plan to explain why this 22 year old man was shot in the side. Along with questions as to why the CEO of Jung Inc was the guardian of this man. It would all unravel as the noisy police dig into Jungkook’s past.

They’d try to find his parents, and ultimately trace it back to my father. I could see it all unfolding in my head.

We were left in the dark all night, calling different hospitals to see if that idiotic female had checked him into the ER. We called every hospital within a 60 mile radius and came up empty. I couldn’t sleep that night, worried that our youngest Jungkook had gotten himself into trouble.

I don’t underestimate women. They are capable of just as much damage as any man, they’re just sneaky about it. I've learned from experience.

At 3 in the morning, Jimin gets a call from Jungkook’s phone and it’s the same woman. She’s a surgeon. Jungkook is one lucky man. I didn’t want much contact with whoever she was. But she did save Jungkook. I decided to give her some money, since she was smart enough to ask no questions.

But the mission we entered today went left, having things get ugly. We were outnumbered and unprepared, leaving us with injuries. We’re usually prepared enough to tackle issues without violences, but since Seok’s mafia presence has been more low-key, other smaller illegal organizations are acting up.

I spoke to her for less than 30 seconds, but vaguely remember the tugging of the red string wrapped around my pinky. I groaned my eye at the thing, remembering the few times it’s done that in the past.

I don’t have time for such foolish things. Soulmate? Who could be cursed enough to be matched with them? The appearance of soulmates almost 200 years ago is explained as something wonderful. A guide from whatever power is above us. I used to believe that bullshit. When I was younger, the thought of a soulmate made my heart race.

I’d gaze at my parents with twinkling eyes, knowing that I was a product of...love. True love. I hold some resentment and disgust for my younger self. The signs were clearly there. That my mother wasn’t happy, and that my dad was sick.

I was too focused on my childish things. That was thanks to my mother. I could vomit mentioning any sort of thanks to that woman, but she was the one holding off my father’s training to take his place.

My older sister, who I haven’t spoken to in years, was sent off to leave with a distant family member. Who knows what she’s up to.

I see now that the appearance of soulmates was simply the universe’s sick attempt at regaining control over humans. I watch people hopelessly drop everything for this stranger, simply because a red string is linking them together. That won’t be me.

Why do I have to put up with a person because some unseen force decided that we are good together? The stories of meeting your soulmate, falling in love, getting married and starting a family are just that, stories. Such a thing isn’t possible for me. I can barely keep the company of real friends, who am I to keep a lover?

I glanced at her from the corner of my eyes, seeing her rushing back into the living room with a black bag. She starts laying out her tools, and despite the slight shaking of her hands, she seemed to know what she was doing.

She was afraid. As she should be. But we were desperate. We never had the need for a doctor, since we avoided getting hurt. But here we are. Our youngest Jungkook was worried, staring at his injured hyungs with wide eyes.

So when he said he knew where we could go, I should have known I would end up at the apartment of the crazy surgeon that was eager to save the injured boy she found in an alleyway.

The tugging of the red string when I spoke to her on the phone now makes sense.

I averted my gaze to the white ceiling, trying to figure out what I was going to do. She’s seen our faces, and she knows we’re criminals. I don’t want to deal with another dead body. Plus she lives in an apartment building. I don’t know how close she is with her neighbors, but with an important job such as a surgeon, her absence would be noticed quickly.

“So who is going first?” She calls out after finishing her set up. When I look at her, she’s staring at the different faces in the room. Her eyes don’t match the tremble in her voice. She looks...uninterested? And annoyed.

“You’re not going to ask any questions?” I ask. She sighs, being the one to avoid eye contact this time. She fidgets to slip gloves on, and dipping her tool in alcohol.

“I don’t have time to ask questions.” She says harshly, only meeting my gaze for a second.

Though she’s asking for little information, the guys begin to open their big mouths, giving out more information than needed. They’re digging me into a bigger hole. When it’s out that we’re criminals, the look of dread is hard to miss. I see the wheels turning in her head, and I wonder if she’s thinking of contacting the police.

She can’t be that stupid right?

Without another word, she calls Yoongi forward first and starts to tend to his wounds. I hiss quietly as the fabric of my shirt rubs against the cut on my chest. The blood had dried, but a slight movement caused a tearing pain.

I keep my eyes on her while she works. Soulmate huh? I look down at the side of my pinky and notice her initials suddenly printed there.

The universe did a trash job. A doctor of all people? It’s like a healed wound is being reopened and left to bleed. The longer I stared at her, the angrier I got. At least she’s not ugly, but a doctor? Surgeon?

I didn’t realize I was glaring at her till Jin hit my leg, making me look his way. He didn’t speak, but the question in his eyes were clear. I could only scoff, before closing my eyes to try to relax.

I heard shuffling of feet as she patched up the next person. She’d run into the kitchen with her tools, do some type of clearing process and come back with clean gloves and tools. When she leaves again, Taehyung leans towards me.

“Boss, what are you going to do about her?” He keeps his voice low.

“I say that we hire her.” Jungkook adds, making my eyes snap open. I glare at him but he only grins back.

“Hire her?” I repeat.

“That’s really smart. She could be our personal doctor? Didn’t you say that you wanted to get into black market surgeries? Now you can. That way we could keep any eye on her.” Jin added, giving Jungkook a friendly pat on the head.

Keep an eye on her? I think for a moment.

“I mean…” Jungkook trails off, “you weren’t thinking of killing her were you? She did save my life.” He stares at me with big doe eyes. I close my eyes again, leaning back to relax.

“She’s going to help you next boss, you’re the only one left.” Jimin whispers as her footsteps approach us.

~!~

I march into the headquarters with the others trailing behind me. I set my gun down on the round table and look towards the white board. The plan of our failed mission written in blue marker.

“So that went to shit.” I mutter to myself, searching for the white board eraser. I am not one to dwell on a failure like that for long. We need to move onto the next mission. As I wiped off the board, the hushed words of the guys behind me were hard to ignore.

“What? Do you have something to say?” I snap, turning around to face them. The whispers stopped as everyone stared in silence

“So...your soulmate is a doctor.” Jimin starts, the smile he was trying to hide breaking through. Another silence followed Jimin’s words before Namjoon chimed in.

“That’s ironic, but she’s cute. Good for you boss.”

My bitter chuckle doesn’t stop the onslaught of congratulations. I couldn’t tell if they were joking or not but I wasn’t in the mood.

“Were you guys not in her apartment just 30 minutes ago? You know...when I told her I didn’t want any sort of relationship with her? I made it clear that all I can offer her is work.”

For guys who looked battered up an hour ago, their humor was still intact. They knew better than expect happiness from me for something as stupid as soulmates.

“I think it’s cute,” Jimin voices, smiling widely at me.

“I don’t really care.” Yoongi said calmly, “As long as she doesn’t get in the way of work, it doesn’t matter.”

“Exactly.” I agreed with Yoongi, “I’ll just have her work for us. She’s already seen our faces and I can’t have her telling anyone about what happened tonight.”

“But boss,” Namjoon said seriously, pulling out a chair to sit at the circular table. His eyes were serious, and I crossed my arms over my chest, knowing that Namjoon was going to drill me with some serious concerns.

His brows furrowed and he looked down at the table for a moment as the others also took seats at the circular table.

“Did you hear bells?” He asked, looking at me with raised eyebrows.

I blink at the unexpected question, my mind moving too slow to process what he said.

“What?”

“Did you hear bells when you saw Y/n? They say that if you hear bells when you meet your soulmate, it’s a true love match! That the universe did it’s best work when putting you and your soulmate together.”

I don’t answer him, searching for the dry erase marker to start the plans for the next mission.

“I guess he didn’t.” Namjoon says under his breath. But as I write out the information on the board, a heavy feeling sets on my shoulders.

So I wasn’t going crazy when those bells were ringing in my ears?

True love? Gross and impossible.

~!~

“Y/n works at Seoul Sky hospital?” I exclaim, staring at the papers Namjoon set on my desk. I had Namjoon dig up some information on Y/n. She was hesitant about taking the offer I laid down, so I need some type of leverage. Maybe she has a criminal record or something she is hiding.

Of course a woman like her is squeaky clean. She comes from a pretty good family. Her mother was a doctor and her father was a successful businessman. Not crazy money but better than most people. She graduated high school early and went right into pre-med. Grades are good, the record is clean and not deep dark secrets.

But she works at Seoul Sky hospital. That poor excuse of a hospital where my father passed. It’s perfect. I could keep an eye on her from work.

“When is the next chairman’s meeting?” I ask with a smirk on my lips. Namjoon’s ears perk up and he stares back at me with wide eyes. He ran his fingers through his hair, stifling a laugh.

“You’re actually going to attend one? You said you wanted to be an anonymous investor?”

I didn’t answer Namjoon right away, plotting just what I was going to do when I got to the hospital.

“Call whoever you need to call and tell them I’m coming to visit the hospital tomorrow. They should have all preparations ready and I’d like to meet with the other directors to discuss the additional funding.” I state, trying to hide the smirk playing on my lips.

Oh this is gonna be fun!

And just like I thought, it was fun. I strolled through the hospital, ignoring the long speeches each department head was giving me. I didn’t care. I don't care about this hospital or any of the damn doctors. If I could burn this place to the ground, I would. The land could be used for something more useful.

Not a hospital that seems to hire incompetent doctors who allow emotions to cloud the work they are doing. I became a director for this hospital in hopes that my mother and that stupid man she ran off with, would return. I don’t know what I will do when they return, but it wouldn’t be a warm welcome.

We walked through the hallways, patients and nurses all staring as we walked. My instructions of a casual hospital tour were ignored, seeing as I had all the department heads following behind me. Yes, I was tuned out to whatever this man was saying.

I think his name is Dr. Lee, I could hear the soft whispers of those behind me.

“He’s handsome isn’t he?” One female doctor says.

“I know right? He seems so intense and studious. Being loved by a man like that is the best.” The other one says.

Namjoon chuckles form beside me, also hearing the nonsense that those two were saying. I throw a glare at him before bringing my attention back to Dr. Lee.

“Do you think I should try to make conversation with him?” The same doctors whisper. I roll my eyes.

God, I hope they don’t. I am not one for aimless conversation. The last thing I want to do is date a doctor. Actually I don’t want to date at all. My work has become my everything and I can’t see myself making room for anything else. But I can only speak for myself.

I wonder how the guys feel about this. If they want to get married, have a family. I haven’t heard them say anything about such things. Hell, I don’t think they’ve even had girlfriends. I don’t expect them to share such information. Years ago I told them to keep personal life things away from work. I didn’t want to hear anything about their personal lives.

I don’t want to try to rebuild the friendships we had. It’s too late. They were forced to stay by my side, so I’m sure all that’s left is animosity. They do pretty well hiding it, but I can’t say I’m integrated into their friend group.

You’d think we’d be closer with how often we are together.

My thoughts stopped short as an already familiar figure came into view. She was standing there with a co-worker of hers. Jennie. I did some digging on those close to her here in Korea. It seems that Jennie is her only friend.

Dr. Lee looked over at the two women, and back at me. The other doctors did the same, my gaze on them catching attention. I noticed Namjoon clear his throat, but my lips turned up into a smirk. I walked ahead of Dr. Lee, closer to Y/n and Jennie.

“Gossiping is more fun in person!” Jennie exclaims.

“Oh is it?” I break into their chit chat. Both women grow stiff at my voice, and turn around to bow at a 90 degree angle. I keep my eyes on Y/n who hasn’t recognized me yet.

“Gossiping is what the doctors of Seoul Sky do?” I question.

I ignore Dr. Lee’s protest to me words and watch Y/n stand straight, only to gawk at me with wide eyes. Oh, her reactions are always so fun.

She takes a small step back, bumping into Jennie who looks lost. I watch her eyes dart over my face, the concern flashing in her eyes is clear. Even at a time like this, you’re being caring? It was easy to tell that she was checking for the cuts that were on my face 5 days ago.

But with how she cared to the wounds, there shouldn’t be much scarring. A little powder covered them right up. I wasn’t going to appear in front of people looking cut up.

She looks more official in her white doctor’s coat. I could tell she was official when I saw the work she did on Jungkook, but seeing her in that white coat felt different. A bubbling in my chest made me feel angry at her. That white coat makes me even angrier.

But I kept the smile on my face, aware of the eyes watching our tense exchange.

Dr. Lee introduced the two doctors to me, and had some pointless banter with Jennie while Y/n tried her hardest to keep the glare off her face.

I stared back at her, hoping that my message was loud and clear.

You can’t run from me.

~!~

“She’s not going to call.” Namjoon said as we walked into the headquarter’s lobby.

I give him a pointed look, slipping off my green suit coat and draping it onto one of the chairs at the circle table.

Jungkook, Yoongi and Taehyung also sat at the circular table. Each person was occupied by something else. Taehyung was reading a book, Yoongi typed away on his laptop while Jungkook stared at his dimly lit phone screen.

Jungkook only looks up from his phone for a second, telling me that he’s distracted by some game. His mouth was gaping open as he concentrated.

“She’ll call. I’m sure she’s a smart girl.” I said to Namjoon, unbuttoning my cuffs and rolling up the sleeves.

“Who are you talking about?” Yoongi questioned, his tone showing little to no interest.

“Who else would he be talking about?” Taehyung jeers before snickering, “When was the last time Boss talked about a woman that wasn’t just a one night stand?” Taehyung grins at me and goes back to reading.

“He snatched her up, pulled her into an empty room and pushed her up against a wall.”

“O,” Jungkook coos, “kinky.”

I roll my eyes at the youngest’s cheeky smile.

“She’s dragging this out. I already have the operation place set up, and I’m already searching for her assistant. I gave her 2 days. If she’s smart, she’ll call. It would be a pain to get rid of her.”

Jungkook sets his phone on the table, a pout of defeat playing on his lips.

“Why don’t you just leave her be? I don’t think she’ll tell anyone. Plus you can just keep an eye on her at the hospital? There is no need to drag her into black market work.”

Everyone looks at Jungkook as he shrugged after expressing his opinion, ‘You would just be exposing her to more stuff if you bring her into work with you.”

I stared at Jungkook in silence, not sure what to say. He has a point. I could just keep an eye on her from the hospital. I know where she leaves, I know where she works and I know all her friends. She can't escape.

So...why do I need her here again?

“It��s okay if you just want her close, we won’t judge you.” Yoongi says in the same uninterested tone.

“It’s not that.” I defended myself.

Yoongi shrugs in a sluggish manner, “It’s okay if you want to keep her around. She’s your soulmate after all.”

I glare at Yoongi for a moment, “I’ve had black market surgeries on my to-do list. So I’m killing two birds with one stone.”

“There’s no urge to be near Y/n? You know that soulmate connection?” Taehyung asks, folding the page he was reading and closing the book.

I feigned some deep thought before shaking my head. Connection? I didn’t feel anything towards her. I was surprised to see that red string connect to someone else, and after that was a sense of dread and anger.

“I think I’ve had better connections with brick walls.”

The fake hisses of pain are followed by comments.

“Heartless!”

“Ouch!”

I walked around to one of the smaller desks that were across the room. I grabbed a familiar grey folder and placed it on the circle table, opening it to see what was in there.

The folder was thick, and had things I had to take care of. No matter how much work we did, I don’t think there’d ever be a day this folder would be empty.

I remember thinking why was my father always so busy? He always said he had no time, and at a certain point, I thought he was lying. I often misunderstood it being an excuse to avoid doing something with me.

My father was present in my life, and he was a kind man. Too kind. He taught me to give people chances, pertaining to things outside of work. Although my father wasn’t obvious about his work, I’d say he was more violent.

He was harsher. The slightest glimpse of weakness would be eliminated. When it came to work, he didn’t allow room for mistakes or failure. Yet, he was caring and understanding with the family, and all things outside of work. He stupidly trusted my mother 100%. Would tell me they were the world’s best example of true love.

Guess he and my other were on different pages.

I scanned over all the items that needed to be completed. The Charity Gala robbery, recapture of money from a bad trade off, some drug trades in Japan and a cop that has been snooping around asking about Seok. Those are the main focus as of now. At least those are the things that will require either my attention or the whole team.

Each one of the guys have things they do separately. Those usually go smoothly.

I groan and run my fingers through my hair, “Where is Jimin?” I ask.

“He finished that one debt collection and headed home. He said he was done for the week.” Namjoon said.

“Call him and Seokjin up. Tomorrow is gonna be a busy day. We’re gonna go take care of the Ryu deal, and if Y/n is as predictable as I think she is, she’ll call me tomorrow.”

“Or she’ll run off to a different country.” Namjoon says under his breath.

I almost chuckle at the comment, knowing Y/n couldn’t be that idiotic.

~!~

“Mr. Ryu, I really don’t want to do this!” I yelled as I tucked my gun into the waistband of my pants. I stepped over the dead and injured bodies of his men, while Jimin and Yoongi flanked me, with their guns pointed at the older man.

He stood with his back pressed against the wall of his own hideout. They’re a small organization with strong connections to Russia. I took a risk working with them, and it blew up in my face. The trade off is what landed Jungkook with a bullet grazing his side. It was supposed to be a one man hand off, but Mr. Ryu brought all his men and ran off with the money.

He had to know we’d come for him sooner or later.

We were able to take out all his men in a silent manner. He let his guard down, not truly knowing who he was messing with. He didn’t know he was dealing with Seok’s organization. It was a test of loyalty and he failed. Blood was starting to pool on the concrete floor. Harsh and shallow breaths from a few men who hadn’t died yet was all that could be heard.

“I have the money! I’ll get you the money!” His pleas echo through the warehouse, and I could hear the way it’s straining his vocal chords. His thin grey hair was unruly. Evidence of his fingers racking through it repeatedly. His suit is disheveled and stained.

I stopped my slow walk towards the man, leaving me about 5 yards from him. Yoongi and Jimin didn’t stop their slow parade with their guns up.

I sighed, “This could have been easier if you did that the first time!”

“Boss!” Someone calls from behind us. I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Namjoon.

“We found the money! It’s all there.” Mr. Ryu doesn’t leave my line of sight, but I nod in response.

“See!” Mr. Ryu rushes out desperately, “The money is there! Take it! It was never taken out of the suitcase!”

I click my teeth and fake disappointment, “I don’t leave loose ends Mr. Ryu. You’ve already seen my face.”

His body trembles in fear, his face growing red with every second, “Who are you?!”

“Why tell a dead man such important information?” I mutter taking a step forward when my phone dings. I pause for a moment, kicking myself for not silencing it.

I don’t miss the eye roll from Yoongi, “Gosh boss, you can’t silence your phone?”

“He’s been waiting for a call from his lovely Y/n,” Jimin jokes, re-gripping his gun.

I dug into my pocket to see a number I didn’t recognize texting me.

[8:34 PM] Unknown: Hello ...?

“Of course he answers it at a time like this!” Seokjin shouts. It seems he’s standing further behind us with Namjoon.

“Now is not the time!”

It has to be Y/n. This is my personal phone number, and she’s the only one who’d have it.

[?:?? PM] Hoseok: Be at this address in 20 minutes.

Due to the bad service, the text message takes it’s time sending. I shove it back into my pocket and stride towards the man.

“Let’s be quick about this old man.” I slip my fingerless leather gloves tighter on my hand.

“Please don’t!” He slides down the wall and lands on his butt so he’s sitting. I kick him in the gut, and he hunches over. I take the chance to place one hand on his forehead, and another on his chin. I swiftly made a turning motion, snapping his neck.

His body goes limp and falls over.

“Let’s go.” I call out just as my phone dings again. We start leaving the warehouse, and I dig into my pocket.

[8:43 PM] Unknown: Could we do this tomorrow?

Does she think this is a hair appointment? Does she not understand what she is getting into?

~!~

I watch Y/n move around the operation room and I think I’m seeing excitement? She giggles and let her fingers graze the tables. Her eyes are lighting up with joy. What a weird one. But this is the first time I’ve seen just an expression on her face.

“This is the type of stuff you get excited about?” I tease.

To my surprise, she smiles at me. A genuine smile. It’s like the fear from earlier was non existent. Is she not worried being alone with me? She doesn’t know anything about me! I could be an awful guy, well I am a bad guy, but I’ll never force myself on someone.

She doesn’t know that, but here she is. Leaving herself open and vulnerable to me.

“We all can’t be making big money like you, Hoseok. How can you live life if you can’t appreciate the small things?”

She wasn’t expecting a reply from me, seeing as she turned her attention back to the operation room. She starts rummaging through the cabinets.

“Fresh and new tools, all with the potential of helping and saving someone. It’s thrilling.” She mumbles.

Is it? I think.

“...to me.” She adds as if she could hear my thoughts.

“You’ll have an assistant--”

“An assistant?”

I hate when people cut me off. Let me finish my sentence.

“Yes. She isn’t a surgeon like you, however she does know about lab work and pharmaceutical things…”

I go through the rest of the details. All the things I can remember from the file Jimin handed me earlier today. I pretended I didn’t see her eyes moving from up and down my body.

It can’t be helped, I’m an attractive man.

I take this time to get a good look at her face, feeling like I haven’t really looked at her time now.

She’s not ugly, that’s for sure.

“You are a part of this team now, I will hold you to the same standard as the others. I will treat you the same as the others. Do not--” She cuts me off again.

She’s going to make this a habit.

“--expect any special treatment because you are my soul mate. You don’t have to say that every day Hoseok. I’m not stupid.”

Those puppy dog eyes she was giving me that first night we met told me otherwise. She has to be one of those girls that has a skewed preselection of her soulmate. Fairytale ending with Prince Charming. That unrealistic expectation is why people act so stupidly.

“Isn’t that how that soulmate thing works?” I retorted, “Once someone finds their soulmate they lose the ability to think straight? They throw out common sense and only make decisions based on their selfish wimps and wants pertaining to their soulmates?”

A bitter aftertaste grows on my tongue after speaking those words. She’s quiet for a while. I watch her eyebrows scrunch up in confusion before she speaks again, “W-well that’s not me!”

“Do not worry about any sort of feelings getting in the way. I am not swayed so easily.”

Sure.

~!~

Bugging Y/n at working is starting to be something I look forward to. Her reactions are too funny. The grimace on her face as she slowly stand s to her feet and bows like the rest of her co-workers, making me want to laugh.

You can always tell what she’s thinking by her facial expression. I dropped by the hospital for some paperwork, and decided to see if I could find Y/n around.

Just to mess with her of course. She’s the one that wanted me to keep my distance at her workplace, so I have to do the opposite.

“Are you still mad at me?” I say, noticing the curious looks from her co-workers.

“Hello Mr. Jung.” She replies.

“Hello, doc.” I take in her standing there in that awful white jacket, quite different from how she was dressed at headquarters.

“You really clean up nice for work.” I grin at her and manage to get a few light jabs at her before letting the cat out the bag in front of her co-workers. I know the gossip will spread around the hospital, and it’s for the best. I don’t want any of our conversations being questioned.

If people see us talking at the hospital, they’ll just see it as flirting and a quick couple’s chat.

After I took a seat, her friend Jennie was carrying most of the conversation. Y/n would just look at me with distaste and sigh, leaning back in her seat. It’s not till Jennie brings her back into the conversation that Y/n says something.

The true displeasure Y/n was showing me came off as a cute couple bantering to Jennie.

“Don’t let Y/n’s awful behavior scare you away!” Jennie exclaims. I lean in closer to Y/n, forgetting just how close out chairs were to each other.

Oh, she smells amazing. Odd thing to notice but, when I got in close enough I caught a whiff of something pleasant. I placed a hand on her knee, causing her body to tense up and her eyes to widen.

“Thankfully, I don’t scare too easily.” I joke back to Jennie.

Has...has Y/n never felt a man’s touch? She froze up like an inexperienced teenager. Oh this is too good! I move my hand up an inch and hear her let out a shaky exhale. I look at her and start to caress her thigh with my thumb. She shivers.

I announce that I’m leaving and decide to really add the cherry on top. Since half of the lunchroom was already watching, might as well give them a show. My hand smoother slides from her thigh to the small of her back. I lean in closer, bringing my lips to her ear.

Her warmth is...welcoming.

“Doc,” I whisper. I inhale softly, taking in the alluring perfume she has on.

“I’ll need you tonight.” I say a little louder. The gasps from the women listening in was exactly what I wanted. She shivers again.

“Oh wow, was that a little tremble I saw?”

She rolls her eyes and I almost want to laugh at the animated action.

“Doc, these little reactions of yours are so amusing...I can’t help but mess with you like this.” I reason.

“I can’t stand you.” She hisses back.

Oh if only she knew how that white coat of hers makes my skin crawl. I can’t stand it or her. But at least she’s proving herself useful.

I am barely out of the lunchroom when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Why does it feel like I can still smell Y/n? Like she left a lingering print on me.

I answer my phone, “Hello?”

“We have a problem!” Taehyung shouts into my ear. I wince at the volume of his voice and quickly look at my surroundings. No one is really looking my way, so I lower my voice and continue down the hallway.

“What’s up?”

“The cop! The cop that has been trying to find info on Seok! We found her!”

I raised my eyebrows, “That’s great Taehyung! What’s wrong with that?”

“She’s the one we hired as Y/n’s assistant.”

My power stride stopped immediately. Just great! Sometimes I wonder if my father made this many mistakes! How could that have gotten past me?

“We did a background check and everything. She was clean.” I said through clenched teeth.

“She took on someone else’s identity! We did all we could! But at least we sniffed it out before she met you in person. What should we do?”

I started my stroll down the hallway again, checking for anyone who may be listening in.

“Do you have her? Like in your custody?”

Taehyung is quiet, “Should we?” He drags out.

“Well she’s already seen your faces! She’s seen Namjoon! Namjoon has been seen as the bodyguard for Jung Hoseok, the CEO of Jung Funding.” I groan, pinching my nose and whispering the next order.

“You gotta get her. I don’t know how, but you have to before they connect the dots. We don’t know how many team members she has helping her. But get her and bring her to the headquarters. We’ll have to get information out of her, then tie the loose end.”

“Got it!” Taehyung says and the line goes dead.

My dumbass forgot that I also told Y/n to come to headquarters, so we were standing there later that night discussing the black market surgeries she would be performing. Her shock to the tasks was confusing. Did she think she’d just stay around and patch us up? We don’t get hurt too often! If she’s gonna be around, I’m using her to her full potential.

“Oh the others are back!” She whips around to see Jungkook poking his head in. My eyes went wide just as Jungkook’s did. Fuck! They’re bringing the cop in! I hope they knocked her out. If she starts calling for help with Y/n here, it’ll make things more difficult.

“Jungkook, is everything ok--” I reach out and spin Y/n around to face me. I pull her close to my chest. I have both hands on her shoulders and feel her tense up again. Is it that she’s never felt a man’s touch, or is it just me that she stiffens up like that.

“W-what was that about?”

I told her to keep her eyes on me and she does. The look in her eyes catches me off guard. They're not fearful, but they don’t hold her regular annoyance.

I ignore most of the questions she asks me as the guys the officer down the other hallway. I tuned her out some time ago but when I finally looked at her she said, “Oh wow.”

“You seem to forget what my line of work is.” I jeer. I remove my hands from her shoulders and step back.

“I forget just how real your job is at times.”

~!~

I strolled into the blue room, wearing some medical gloves. My eyes laid on Jiae, the undercover cop who was tied to the blue metal chair.

“I forgot that I told Y/n to drop by.” I explained, seeing the questions in their eyes.

“It’s cool, we weren’t trying to interrupt your little date.” Jimin cooed, smiling widely.

Of course the teasing begins.

“It wasn’t a date. I was giving her the procedure files. “ I say, before turning to the woman who watched my every move in terror.

Her mouth was covered with duct tape, and her eyes were bloodshot. The few moments of eye contact shook fear into her. She couldn’t have been any older 35. Her straight black hair was a mess, and sweat dewed on her forehead. Her eyes welled up with tears but it didn’t move me.

My eyes moved back to Jimin who was slipping on his own gloves. It must be scary for Jiae. Watching these men she does know calmly put on gloves while chatting. She has no idea what to expect.

“Make sure Y/n finds an assistant.” I muttered. Namjoon who was leaning against the wall scratched the back of his head.

“Why don’t we ask that Jennie friend of hers?” He suggests. I simply hum and nod, walking up to Jiae who trembled.

“You almost slipped past us!” I yelled, grinning at her. I reach forward to peel the tape off her mouth. I do it slowly, and she exhales deeply before coughing.

“Why are you looking for Seok?” I stood staring at the panting women.

“I-I can give you money if that’s what you want? Tell me what you want! Whatever it takes, I have people who can get it for you! You don’t have to protect Seok! I’m just trying to get to him!” She begs, rocking her body a bit. The ropes around her arms and legs must really burn.

“Who sent you here?” I asked another question, stepping even closer, “There is nothing you can offer us! I just want to know why you’re here and who sent you.”

She gulps, “I-I can’t tell you.” She moves her focus to the ground and I try not to snicker. This night is dragging out too long. I’m already in a bad mood, and I have more work awaiting me. I don’t have the energy to interrogate kindly.

“Why are you here?” I growled again.

“We’re just trying to find Seok! Please I won’t tell anyone.”

“Who is ‘we’?” Namjoon speaks up this time, “the FBI? CIA?”

Jiae hangs her head in defeat, “We’re just a small detectives office! It was a stupid move and we weren’t aware of who we were up against. It took months to get this close to Seok, and I know you’re just following commands.”

“Ms. Jiae,” I call sarcastically, “I don’t know if you’re aware but outsiders don’t get to see Mr. Seok and live. Do you not know that?” I cock my head, wondering if I should just let Namjoon take control. I’m at my wits end.

“I don’t even want to find him anymore! So if you could please--”

“But I’m right here.” I pout, and watch the realization grow on her face.

~!~

I walked into the lobby of headquarters to hear Jaehyun and Jennie yelling at each other. I tried my best to keep from groaning in annoyance. I knew their relationship before bringing Jennie to work with Y/n, but I was hoping they could overcome it. Jaehyun won’t be working with us for long. He’ll help us with this mission and probably with forging documents in the near future.

My eyes settled on Y/n. I could only see the back of her head as she slumped back in her seat. She wasn’t talking,only watching the couple as they threw insults back and forth.

I haven’t seen her in a few days. It seems things have gotten busy at the hospital, which is the only reason I didn’t bother to grill her for missing the meeting I called her to a few days ago.

Unfortunately, I have become quite aware of her absence. Her glares and her teasing remarks have been a part of my everyday routine. It's obvious that she’s tired, so she'll fall asleep in no time. I

I took a seat beside Y/n, and she looked at me. She still smiles at me, though it doesn’t meet her tired eyes. She beams at me, and though she looked exhausted, it was clear that she was happy to see me.

She’s...happy to see me?

“You look tired.” I said quietly. I wasn’t trying to be rude, but rather made an observation. Y/n understood, seeing as she laughed.

“Just say you missed me so we can move forward.” Her shoulders shook as she giggled, and the corner of my lips twitched, a smile threatening my lips.

I guess...I missed her?

Wait! No! I just noticed how quiet it was without her. Y/n was always bubbly and talkative compared to me. The guys love having her around. She draws out conversation and makes the gloomy atmosphere bearable.

I take a look at the files spread out on the table, and tell Jennie and Jaehyun to settle down. The upcoming mission is important, and ends everyone’s part to work. Everyone including Y/n.

I sat at home, wondering if it was smart to bring Y/n into this. I said from the beginning that I wasn’t going to involve her in anything that wasn’t black market medical work, but could it be avoided?

The whole hospital believes we are a couple, and with the Charity Gala coming up, it wouldn’t make sense to not take Y/n as a date. However, I don’t want to parade around with her on my arm, as she has no idea what is going on behind the scenes. I at least respect her to not be so rude.

Y/n shifted in her seat, leaning closer to me. She was paying attention to everything I was saying, but the expression was unreadable. Most of the meeting went well while I laid down everything in detail. I let Jin take over as he broke down more details of the mission but my attention was divided as /n moved closer and closer to me.

Her head dropped on my shoulder and glanced at her to see her eyes closed. She fell asleep. I snicker looking back down at the document in my hand. My senses were overtaken by her shampoo and the light traces of perfume. She was warm, and my shoulder was growing hot.

I stared at the printed words on the paper for a few seconds when I recognized the silence that surrounded me. Why isn’t Jin still talking?

My attention moves to the quiet people at the table. They were staring at me like I had two heads. My face scrunched up in annoyance and I glared at each person. I’m going to pretend i don’t know what’s going on.

“What?” I asked, my gaze moving to each face around the table. I noticed Jungkook who gave me a knowing smile, his cheeks lifted high as he grinned that bunny-like smile of his. The meeting went on, and soon Jennie was also asleep, her work schedule being as crazy as Y/n’s.

My eyes couldn’t help but stare at her and Jaehyun for a moment. The way Jennie naturally leaned on him, looking so comfortable and trusting of him. Jaehyun received all her affections, throwing an arm around her as she hid her face in his neck.

That’s probably the type of relationship Y/n was looking for. A person she can trust in and feel completely comfortable around.

But...I don’t think I can think of a moment in which Y/n didn’t trust me. It’s weird. Maybe she doesn’t really understand how my job is?

“Vitals.” I heard Y/n mumble in her sleep before she shifted, her hand landing itself on my thigh. I tensed at the movement, my eyes staring at her hand as if it could move it away with my gaze.

It was now Yoongi that was voicing some concerns about the mission but I couldn’t focus. Her hand was palm resting carelessly on my lower thigh near my neck. I glance at her hand again and my own hand was itching,

I wonder if…

I look back up at the papers in my hands and set it on the table as Yoongi continues to speak. I slowly brought my hand up to rest on my knee, not too far from her hand. My eyes move from Yoongi speaking to my hand.

Maybe…..

I slowly inch my hand towards her, some of my fingers brushing her hand. As if Y/n could sense what I was doing, she sighs and readjusts herself, her hand moving to fall right on top of mine. I tune back into the conversation, the guys too focused on their points and opinions that they didn’t notice my attention was else. I shifted in my seat, sitting up a bit and Y/n squeezed my hand.

She moved with me, adjusting to me and sighing. This is...warm. She is warm and not so bad.

I look over at Jaehyun and Jennie. Jennie was still knocked out and leaning on Jaehyun. I wonder if...Y/n and I look as natural as they do.

The possibility of a real meaningful relationship has felt so unneeded and out of reach but….this is nice.

But I couldn’t meet the expectations that she’d have. Plus, doctors are crooked. Doctors like to say they became doctors to help people, but oftentimes they have the worst personalities. They have the biggest egos.

~!~

“Boss, have fun!” Jungkook cooed. I rolled my eyes at him, looking over the last of the plans. I was at the HQ lobby and we all stood around dressed according to our roles in the mission. The car waited outside, but Jungkook was bouncing around me with a smile.

“This is technically a date!” He chimed.

“I doubt Y/n sees it that way.” I replied. Jungkook clasps my shoulder and grins.

“I actually agree but, I think you should enjoy yourself tonight. We have the mission under control, just worry about showing Y/n a good time. I think you’ll realize that a future with Y/n isn’t so outrageous. You like her.”

My eyes widen, “I like Y/n?” I laugh and look up at the ceiling in disbelief.

“Never that.” I added.

“It’s okay to admit it! I think you deserve to have someone for yourself! You can’t go around frowning for your whole life. The universe--”

“Don’t talk to me about the fucking universe.” I hiss. My harsh tone doesn’t phase Jungkook, he continues to speak.

“The universe doesn’t make mistakes!”

“You’re still saying that?” Namjoon chimed in as he walked towards us.

I scoffed, “Jungkook is young, so he thinks it’s that simple.”

“It is that simple!” Jungkook fussed. It was quiet for a moment as everyone moved about.

“Boss.” Jungkook called. His tone was different, the beaming smile was gone and a smirk sat on his lips. I was surprised by the change of tone from him.

I raised an eyebrow at him and he ran his fingers from his hair.

“Since you don’t like Y/n...can I ask her out?” The challenging tone had me staring at the younger man seriously. He stared back, his smirk growing wider.

“You’re not going to wait for your soulmate?” My voice was low, and undermining.

“Boss, do you not listen to me when I talk? I told you I’ve found her already, and she has a boyfriend, but that’s a different situation. You don’t like Y/n...so I can pursue her?”

The tension was staggering, and the air grew heavy as we stared at each other in silence. Jungkook didn’t back down, cocking his head to the side. He’s serious?

“Come on Kook!” Jimin laughed, putting himself between us, “Boss, I’m sure he’s joking.”

Jimin’s intrusion wasn’t enough to make us break eye contact.

“You’re joking right?” Jimin says with a bright smile. Everyone had stopped what they were doing and watching Jungkook. Jungkook has never seriously challenged me on something.

At this point, Jungkook is probably closer to Y/n than I am, so this development of feelings shouldn’t surprise me.

Jungkook breaks the staring competition and smiles that normal gummy smile of his, “Of course I’m joking!” He exclaims. A unified sigh of relief is heard in the room, but not from me. The others let out nervous chuckles, but I narrow my eyes at Jungkook who’s smile doesn’t meet his eyes.

The bunny smile is there, but the challenging look in his eyes remains.

That conversation with Jungkook was on my mind on the drive to pick up Y/n. Jaehyun trailed behind me with a different car.

“Since you don’t like Y/n...can I ask her out?”

He looked me right in the eyes and said that. I do forget that there are other men that have eyes for Y/n. That stupid Dr. Lee at the hospital has made it apparent that my presence didn’t deter him. I keep saying soulmates are a foolish notion, so when Y/n decides to move on, I’ll be okay right?

A strange discomfort is building in my chest as I think about it. A vision of Y/n’s smiling face appears in my mind and I sigh, almost defeated. I press my hand to my chest, the hammering of my heart clouding my thoughts.

“What the fuck.” I mutter to myself.

“Sir,” The driver calls, “We’ve arrived.” I look around to see that we were in front of Y/n's apartment complex.

When she makes her way out I can’t help but stare. I just knew that dress would be perfect for her. You’d think it was made for her and her alone. Her hair was styled simply and the make up was done simply.

She is...beautiful.

Fuck.

My eyes move along her body, from head to toe and once again. The slit on the dress with the draping neckline that showed just a little cleavage had me feel some type of way.

I looked back to her face and wondered how my face looked at this moment because it felt like my throat was drying up and my hands were getting sweaty.

I should tell her how good she looks. I should say ‘you look pretty’ cause saying beautiful would be too much right?

You look pretty!

Ugh, what the hell Hoseok, are you a middle school boy? It’s Y/n! Doc! Just say something before this silence gets weird.

“We’re matching!” She announces, smiling widely.

The corner of my lips twitch up, fighting a smile. When we’re in the car I’m speaking with Namjoon on the phone as he explains that things are set in place. Y/n sits beside me, not saying anything. She stares out the window unaware of my lingering gaze.

When I’m off the phone she makes some comments about my favorite color being green. She’s not wrong and It looks good on her so why not?

Strolling past the flashing cameras and into the venue, we were met by different people all turning their heads our way. My hand rested on the small of her back. I watched her eyes dart around the place at the rich people and celebrities that were about. This wasn’t her type of crowd and it was clear.

I keep her pressed against me, noticing the goosebumps on her shoulders. Her chest is rising and following quickly. Of course she’s nervous. It’s already an intimidating event but also knowing about the crime that will take place? I’m sure she’s stressed.

I smiled at her actions, as it reminded me of a nervous puppy.

“Hey, look at me for a second.” I whispered. When she looked my way, her jaw dropped open for some reason. I smiled wider at the beautiful woman staring up at me.

“Look like you’re happy to be with me.”

She beamed at me, that same smile of hers. She doesn’t have to pretend does she? Am...am I pretending?

Maybe I’m just pretending that this isn’t going to go up in flames like it did with my parents. Maybe I’m pretending like she didn’t have heart eyes for me since the beginning. I mean I am the soulmate she has always been waiting for. So when that spark is gone, would she still smile at me like this?

I take my hand off her back and she takes hold on my arm.

We weren’t left alone for long, different company executives approaching me often. Y/n listened patiently and would make small talk with jokes and puns. What was she nervous about? She’s a natural at this. I can’t even call her a social butterfly, she’s just a people person.

As I introduced her to some executives, she smiled beautifully and my arm naturally wrapped around her waist and held her close to me. We stood and spoke with quite a few people. I found myself glancing over at her every once in a while. She’d be too focused on the conversation to notice my stare, but when she did, she’d simply smile at me then tune back into the conversation.

My eyes scanned the black, catching Jimin who was in disguise. I knew everything was going smoothly since I hadn’t gotten any text messages or phone calls since we arrived.

These two women were talking my ears off while Y/n tried to hide the glare on her face. She’s been throwing looks at women who eyed me. I chuckled as I watched the women shying away as Y/n put her intimidating gaze on them.

A sigh sounded from Y/n, making the two female executives stop talking to look at Y/n. I used this time to make the women stop their ogling at me in front of Y/n.

“Are you tired already, baby?” I whispered in her ear. The name made her look at me in surprise. The close proximity of our face had to be making the female executives uncomfortable. Her lips parted and her eyes flickered down to my lips so quickly that I don’t think she knows she’s done it.

Fuuuuucccck.

The night doesn’t end in the most peaceful. Even though the mission went well, I let my anger get to me.

“For once...it felt like you didn’t hate me.” She says honestly.

We’re standing on the balcony, looking up at the dim stars in the style. Y/n is a bit drunk, and her honest thoughts start to fall out her mouth.

I’m left staring at the side of her face while she stays keyed in on the stars. The small smile on her lips did lessen the effect of her words. She sounded genuinely hurt.

“I don’t hate anyone.” I argued. And well that was a lie. I hate my mother and that stupid man. But Y/n thinks I hate her?

“Doc, I don’t hate you.”

“But you hate soulmates and doctors.” She accused me.

“Who told you that?” I snapped.

Y/n rolls her eyes, “What does it matter? I got the message.”

What the hell? She speaks like she has me figured out. I’m not the most easy going and open but to hate her? She genuinely believes that? How can she tell me about my feelings? What cause I’m not the fucking prince charming she expected.

“What about you doc?” I start “Do you really like me?”

“Yes.” She says sternly.

“You really like me? Or do you like the image of a soulmate? The idea of a soulmate is what you like. I am not the picture perfect guy you dreamed of, stop trying to put me in that box.”

She looks at me, scrutinizing my face. I watched her eyes move all across my face, taking in every facial feature of mine. Her eyes were big, and honest. I know she isn’t lying to me. What does she have to gain from me? Y/n hasn’t hidden a single thing from me.

“I do admit, I liked the idea of a soulmate. I liked the idea of meeting someone and just connecting instantly and understanding each other.” She said sternly. It’s just as I expected but I’m disappointed to hear her say it.

“My point proven.” But Y/n didn’t back down, still staring up at me.

“You were not what I expected. Your lifestyle is frightening and dangerous. You are cold, calculating, hard to read and sometimes scary. You’ve probably killed people and I’m sure committed many crimes. Hell, I sat here and played ‘couple of the year’ while the others robbed artwork.”

“Oh--” A voice said from the entryway. We both turn our attention to Jungkook who stared on with wide eyes. He wasn’t sure what he had walked in on, but he was hesitant to speak. The atmosphere was heavy and uncomfortable. Ugh, of all the times for him to walk in.

The soft and caring look in Y/n’s eyes when she saw the boy was annoying to me.

“Noona, I’ll be taking you home.” He announced, “Just let me know when you’re ready to go.” Jungkook’s eyes flickered between us, wondering what conversation had happened before he walked in.

“Thank you Jungkook,” Y/n’s voice wavered, “I’ll be right there.” She dismissed him. Jungkook gave me a pointed look and left.

Y/n sighed, pushing her body off the ledge and standing straight. She smoothed her dress, and brushed off any possible dirt.

She looked back up at me and flashed a sad smile, “Despite all those things. Your lifestyle, your crimes and your cold attitude ...I still like you.” She stared right into my eyes, that same soft and caring look she had for Jungkook before was there but...there was something else.

‘Heart eyes’ the guys have been calling it. It’s as clear as day.

“Really?” I laughed a bit to hide my discomfort. The way she gazed at me had me feeling...vulnerable.

“Truly.” She confirmed, not daring to look away from me. Y/n stepped closer to me and I watched closely, looking down as one of her hands found mine. She held my hand, stretched her head up and put her lips to my cheek.

She just….kissed me? On my cheek?

“Tonight was fun. Thank you Hoseok.” With that, she spun around and made her way back inside. Probably going to find Jungkook so she could go home.

My heart is pounding in my ears. I can’t think straight. She kissed my cheek? She really really likes me?

A person with such a sick job? I’m a fucking criminal! Did she forget? I kill people! I lie and steal!

Who the hell would want to stay with a man like me? Like my father? My mother’s harsh words to me still sting like they were yelled at me yesterday.

● ● ●

I stood by my father’s hospital bed where he laid weak and fable. As a 16 year old there is only so much I can do while my mom yells at my father. My eyes darted to the doors behind my mother’s raging figure. Where is the hospital staff?

“Mom, what are you doing? What are you talking about? I don’t understand! Why would you be leaving?”

She stared at me with tearful bloodshot eyes. Her face was red and she breathed heavily.

“Son, your mother--” My father’s words were cut off.

“I’m leaving Hoseok. If you don’t want out of this horrible way of life, then fine! I won’t subject myself to this! I found my soulmate, a normal man with a normal job.” She was yelling while fighting back tears. I stagger back, looking between her and my father.

“Y-you guys aren’t soulmates?” My voice comes out quietly and my eyes sting with ears. The sadistic laughter that left my mother’s mouth was chilling.

“I pity the woman who’s soulmate is a mafia man! This life is draining! I’m tired! In the start I thought love was enough but it just isn’t! It’s become a burden!” She threw her hands up in exhaustion.

“Hoseok, if you choose this life just know that you don’t deserve a soulmate. Don’t put someone through the torture of not knowing if their husband will come home! Or dealing with random mysterious trips! You’re better off alone in this type of work? Do you hear me Hoseok? When you find your soulmate, run the other way! For her sake!”

~!~

I sit in the hotel bed, staring up at the ceiling with my phone pressed to my ear. I am in Japan for not only underground work but investments. It’s been a pretty busy trip, and all while I’ve been here Y/n was clouding my mind.

In the meeting with Jisoo about the Japanese part of our mafia network, Y/n was dancing in the back of my mind.

I know damn well it was wrong of me to travel without telling her. It’s been a week since I’ve seen her and I’m itching to see her again. I don’t know what I'm going to do or say when I see her, so I’ll figure it out when the time comes. It’ll be another 4 days before I’m back in Korea. So when I saw the missed call from Y/n I thought something bad happened, but the simple sound of her voice made my body tingle.

Fuck my life.

What am I gonna do about this? I think I’m getting a hard on just at the thought of her laying in her bed as she speaks to me.

“Ok, cool. Umm...how much longer are you staying in Japan?” She asks softly. I joke to lighten the mood. It was probably only me who was feeling so heavy. It’s been a dry spell, and I can’t get myself to call one of my usually booty calls.

“Why?” I grin, “Do you miss me?” I chuckle knowing a swift denial from her when she speaks in a breathy voice.

“I miss you a lot.” She’s doing this on purpose, she has to be. I shift in my bed, hissing under my breath as I felt my dick getting hard.

Oh she misses me huh? She’s probably laid up in her bed, sleep still on her eyes. Still smelling good like she always does. Warm like she always is, welcoming like she always-

The whole time we were speaking, my mind was wandering and my dick was bringing me discomfort. It’s hard and I have no one to ease the discomfort. Ugh.

“Y/n?” I called out my voice strained, “Whenever you start missing me, just call me.”

Because I am definitely missing you. I hung up the phone and tossed it beside me on the bed, sitting up and seeing the imprint of the boner in my boxers.

I pushed my boxers down and spit in my hand a few times before I began to stroke my length, thoughts of Y/n in the cute outfits she wears under that white coat driving me forward. As well as the way she looked the last time I saw her, at the Charity Gala.

I think I'm losing my mind over here. What the hell is happening to me?

A breathy groan escapes my lips and moans of her name drip off my tongue. It’s a little shameful who just the sound of her voice invokes such a fire in me.

When did I get myself wrapped around her finger like this?

~!~

I look at the door for the 5th time, ignoring the yelling between those who were present. I’m finally back in Seoul after 12 days of traveling and I can’t lie to myself about the excitement of seeing Y/n again.

After jacking off to the thought of her, I wonder how I'll be able to face her. I feel...weird about it. I wouldn’t ever tell her about it, since no sexual interaction has happened between us in the slightest. But my emotions have felt intensified by 10 these days.

I also mean to talk to Jungkook about his words before the Gala. I need to make it clear that Y/n is off limits. She’s not my girlfriend or anything but, Jungkook needs to back off. I have to start driving her myself, and since Y/n says she likes me….she won’t mind.

“You missed her!” Taehyung sings from his seat, “You missed Y/n!”

I only stare at the cheesing boy, before looking to Namjoon to start explaining the information he gathered.

“Of course he missed her!” Seokjin called out, “he’s looking at the door every few minutes!”

“Boss is not in the mood to be teased,” Yoongi exclaimed before showing me a goofy smile.

“Not by us at least.” Jimin jokes.

The boys laugh collectively and I can feel my ears burning red.

“Oh, his ears are read!” Yoongi observes fighting off his laughter.

“They are!” The others chime in.

“What happened Boss, did you have a naughty dream about Y/n?”

“Did you get off to her?”

“Have you finally realized your feelings?”

They were all speaking at once and I could only keep my head down as my ears grew hot.

I must say...it’s been a long time since the boys have openly made fun of me like this.

“I’ve just been…” Their laughter trails off as I start to speak.

“I’ve been feeling a lot of things lately.” I shrug to try to move past the awkwardness that came with the words.

“Well duh!” Taehyung says, “You’ve probably just realized your feelings, and your little soulmate connection things are just now starting! Don’t worry boss, I doubt Y/n is going to care if you showed her more affection-- I’m sure she wants it.”

“L-let’s just change the subject,” I mutter, “Order some food for everyone, I’m paying.”

A cheer sounds through the room and I’m just glad the subject has changed. While Namjoon is speaking, Jin ends up calling Jungkook about what to order but my attention in tuned into Namjoon.

It’s when I hear a door opening followed by whistles from the guys that I knew Y/n was here. I kept my eyes forward, while Namjoon kept explaining what he wrote on the blackboard. We were having a discussion on this when I heard her voice.

“Hey guys.” She greeted everyone. Namjoon even greeted her in return, looking at me while I pretended to be too focused on the blackboard.

Soon she stood at my side, “Hey.” She says softly.

“Hey.” I replied before looking at her head on. Beautiful as always. My eyes drop down her body and back to her eyes. She wore a fine yellow outfit, and I hope the jump in body didn’t translate onto my face.

I sat on the table and she stood, she was almost eye level with me. After asking about how my flight was, she kisses me on the cheek. I stare at her in surprise while she smiles in return.

“I’m glad you’re back.” She said. I narrowed my eyes at her, and my eyes dropped down to her outfit again.

Damn, she has to be doing this on purpose. Even after she diverted her attention to Namjoon, I couldn’t help myself. She gave me a perfect view of her ass, I had the urge to be...close to her. Fuck I liked to have her under me screaming my na--

“Boss is looking hungry!” Taehyung sang, potentially pulling me from my train of thoughts.

“But not for food.” Jennie adds.

I look back at some files I was supposed to be reading with a small smirk on my lips. My ears grew hot as they turned red.

“Cute.” She mumbles.

~!~

“Now why did you guys go and make her cry?” I said to the guys as they sat around the circular table. I sent Jennie and Y/n home after Y/n bursted into tears after hearing the contract the guys’ parents signed to be free of debt. I didn’t want to touch this subject again, but as I watched Y/n overwhelmed with sadness on my behalf, I knew I couldn’t ignore it.

“She asked us questions and we answered it.” Yoongi said softly, throwing a concerned look to Jungkook who was crying.

“W-we don’t hate you Hoseok!” Jungkook sobbed, wiping his face with the sleeves of his shirt.

I was surprised to hear my first name from him.

“A-and I’m not pursuing Y/n. It was just a small crush.”

I almost had to laugh at the way he gargled his words while tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Guys, let’s not do this okay? We can just-”

“We don’t hate you hyung,” Jimin chimed in, shyly looking down at the table instead of looking at me.

“Guys--” I’m cut off again.

“I am sorry hyung, I was angry with my parents. You didn’t do anything and it wasn’t right for us to shut you out like we did. We should have been your family and support at the funeral but we left you all alone. It wasn’t fair to you.” Taehyung stared at me with wet eyes.

“You took care of us so well, a-and we didn’t realize the damage it caused! There is no hate for you anywhere in my heart.”

They went on like that for a while. I simply listened, taking in their words. Long monologues about how they were sorry and so on. It was nice to hear and it did ease me just a small bit. When it was silent and my turn to speak.

“I am not angry at you guys. It was lonely all these years. You guys were here but it was lonely.” Was all I could say, scratching the back of my neck. It’s uncomfortable to talk like this with them.

“Well,” Namjoon began, “We won’t let you feel lonely anymore hyung!” With those words Jungkook rose on his feet and charged towards me. I was pulled into a tight hug.

“I only like hugs from Y/n.” I joked, hoping the awkward feeling would pass. But soon I was in the middle of a huge group hug.

“Let’s take some baby steps and work up to hugs.” I muttered, resulting in a laugh from everyone else.

~!~

The music was booming and the lights were a hot red, matching the hot atmosphere of the club. The bass of music was vibrating strongly and it was adding a small shake to the glasses of drinks on the table. Y/n and Jennie went to the dance floor some time ago, and the way she looked when she approached me was printed in my mind.

She looked hot. I felt my blood growing hot and I couldn’t stop the need to get my hands on her. The urge to have Y/n close has grown intensely. I can’t say I'm a skinship person but with her, it’s different. I need her close, I want her close.

The way she came in and took a seat next to me without any hesitation. I mean, where else would she have sat? Having someone by my side is...nice. Great even.

I wonder if she’d let me drive her home. I’m tired of always having Jungkook do it. He told me his declaration to pursue Y/n was a joke, but I’m not going to let my guard down just yet

“Hyung, there are three of them. They’ve already noticed our presence so I expect one of them to approach us.” Jimin stated, “They’ll try to intimidate us. It’s the same pattern they’ve been doing at the last spots they hit.”

“I’m gonna ring up Y/n and tell her and Jennie to clear out of here soon, before things pop off.” I said reaching into my pocket to grab my phone.

“Look at you being a worried boyfriend.” Jimin cooed.

I paused my movements before giving Jimin a curious look, “Jimin...how would you ask someone out on a date?”

Jimin’s toothy grin went into a full out mouth opening smile.

“Hyung!” He yelled in excitement. I instantly regretted my question.

“Never mind,” I dismissed, shaking my head,

“Wait hyung! I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you!” He shouted. I barely heard him over the music but I simply nodded.

“I’ll tell you later, but I think with Y/n, just ask her to a movie or to dinner!She’s pretty chill.” He added. I stood up from my seat, ignoring his last words. However, I will be asking him later.

With my phone in my hands, I scrolled through my contacts to find Y/n. I walked out from the seated pit area to find Y/n. My eyes searched the club, spotting a suspicious man stand near the edge of the dance floor.

I spotted him briefly, moving my gaze off him naturally. I want him to believe I didn’t spot him. He’s clearly a part of the men we were watching.

I looked back to my phone and instead of texting Y/n, I text Taehyung who was already on high alert.

To Taehyung: Keep eyes on dude on the right. Far end of the dance floor. He’s up to something.

Just as I looked up from my phone, I saw Y/n approaching me. I couldn’t read the expression on her face, but it’s clear she was eager to get to me.

“Where’d you go? I was looking for you--” I was cut off as she slammed into me, throwing her arms around me in a tight hug. It nearly knocked the wind out of me, but the display of affection left me smiling.

“Did you miss me already?” I chuckled. It was at the moment that I heard her labored breathing in my ear. Something is...off.

“H-hoseok.” She called out weakly. Her arms dropped from around me and she was putting all of her weight onto me.

“Y/n?” I asked, shoving my phone into my pocket and wrapping my arms around her. The next thing I knew, I heard a terrifying scream, and looked up to see Jennie standing about 12 feet from us with a horrified look on her face.

Something is wrong.

“Y-y/n?” I called again. She’s not responding. She’s not talking. Her shallow breaths were all I could hear. The music was being tuned out and my heart was beating in my ears. My hands moved from her back to her hips and her side when I felt it. I froze as I realized my hands were...wet?

I glanced down at my right hand and thought I could have collapsed when I saw the bright red on my hand. My hand pressed back to her side, putting pressure on where the blood was coming from. All this happened in seconds, but it felt like hours.

“Y-you’re bleeding? Y/n? Y/n!” My voice shook as I tried to get any response from her.

“Taehyung!” My voice pierced through the music, and I turned my head to see the guys rushing towards me with Jennie walking up with tears in her eyes. She was asking me questions with her eyes but I didn’t have any answers.

“Taehyung, bring the car around to the back!” I yelled.

“Yoongi, Joon go after those bastards! They couldn’t have gone far!” I’m yelling and everyone is moving. We’ve caught the attention of some people on the dance floor, as well as those sitting in other pits, but their curious stares didn’t mean a thing to me.

“I’m...tired.” Y/n said, as if she was sobbing.

I scooped up Y/n into my arms and made my way towards the back exit of the club. We had to push our way through the staff rooms and the small kitchen but we got through with no problem. Jennie was at my side, taking a clean rag she got while we pushed through the kitchen, and pressed it to the wound.

“Please Y/n.” I whispered, holding her closer to me.

Usually such bullet wounds won’t cause all this worry, but with the amount of blood that was coming...it was scary. Even by my standards. Did the bullet hit an artery? That’s...that’s the worst thing that could happen. If an artery was hit, Y/n will die for sure.

“Y/n? Stay awake for me.” I said again, as we made it out the back exit to the alleyway where Taehyung already had the big van parked. Jimin through the sliding door open and I stepped in with Y/n still in my arms. Jennie followed in after me.

Jimin closed the door and hopped into the passenger’s seat before Taehyung took off.

Jennie was scurrying to do different things. Despite the blood on her hands, she took the towel and pressed it to the wound. She took my free hand that wasn’t wrapped around Y/n’s back, since Y/n is sitting on my lap, and placed it on the towel.

“Keep pressure on it.” She instructed, before shuffling around the van, seeing as she was practically standing in the van. She was a bit bent over as she worked.

“Call Jin and Jungkook! Tell them to have the surgery room ready. I need all the tools cleaned and disinfected. I’ve shown them how to do it.” Jennie orders. Jimin gets right on and in that moment I was thankful that Jin and Jungkook wanted to stay back for this mission.

She was checking Y/n’s pulse and breathing, at some point pressing her ear to her chest.

“How is she?” I couldn’t recognize my own voice. My voice was quiet, unsure and weak. Ugh so weak. I noticed Jimin look at me with obvious pity.

Taehyung looks at me from the rearview mirror and I wonder what my face looks like at this moment. But I look at Y/n and frown deeply. The color is draining from her face, and all I can do is stare at her.

It’s like watching the life drain from my father all over again.

“Her pulse is….slow. Dangerously slow. I don’t think an artery was hit, but I don’t know Y/n’s medical history so it’ll be tough to figure out--”

“Jimin, find a way to get Y/n’s medical records.” I order.

Jennie seems shocked, “Hoseok it’s--”

“I have my ways.” I deadpanned, before looking over at Y/n’s face again. She’s not responding to anything and the only thing keeping my string of sanity from snapping was the rising and falling of her chest.

We arrived at the headquarters and rushed in.

“What happened?” I heard Jungkook cry as we rushed in. I went with Jennie, straight to the surgery room, thankfully to see everything set up.

I set her down on the table as Jennie rushed to wash her hands, threw on spare scrubs over her outfit, and washed her hands a second time, disinfecting then throwing gloves on.

“Out.” She ordered.

“What? I--”

“Out! I got this Hoseok! I promise! She will be fine!” She stared up at me. My eyes moved back to Y/n who was laying there looking….ghostly. I looked back at Jennie and nodded before making my way out the room.The door was still open. Jungkook, Jin and Taehyung watched, all with worried eyes.

I looked at Jennie once more as she started tearing the clothes off of Y/n. To respect her privacy, we all looked away. I stepped out the room and shut the door, leaving the guys and I in a heavy silence.

My eyes are trained on the ground and my thoughts are moving rapidly.

“Hyung--” Jungkook started, his face turning red as tears bubbled in his eyes. I glanced down at my legs, the fabric sticking to my body because of the blood that had begun to dry. My hands were covered in red and the sight disgusted me.

Blood hasn’t bothered me before, but it being Y/n’s blood left me sick. What if she dies?

I can’t keep anything good in this life can I? It was careless of me to think that I could bring her along while working. What the fuck was I thinkng?

It was a stupid move on my part so I--

“Hyung!” Jimin’s voice took me out of my thoughts. I was so zoned out that I didn’t notice I was now in the middle of a circle. Jimin, Taehyung, Jin and Jungkook all stood around me in concern. Jin reached out to place a hesitant hand on my shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Jin asked. He stared at me seriously, scrutinizing my response.

“I…” I trailed off and looked towards Jungkook who held eye contact with me for all of 3 seconds before he started crying again. I could only look away from him and back to Jin.

“I’m going to go take a shower.” I answered before stepping out from the circle. I walked out from the circle and past the circle table before walking down the hallway. I stopped at the silver door and stepped into it. It was our regular clean up from. You walk in to see what looks like a huge closet. Different shirts, uniforms and more. I walk over to a small sink in the corner and wash my hands swiftly.

I actually washed my hands three times, feeling like the red wouldn’t go away.

When looking for disguises, we come here. I walk through the room, unbuttoning my shirt and throwing into the trash bin. I don’t think I could wear these clothes again. I take off my shoes, my socks, pants and boxers before grabbing a towel not too far away. I throw it over my shoulder, feeling a little weird standing in the room completely naked.

I walked towards the second door in the room which led to a bathroom with a shower. Two separate and private showers. I hung my towel up in arms reach and stepped into one of the glass shower squares. The water was cold when it hit me, but I needed it. It felt like my whole body had been on fire for the past 30 minutes.

I took both my hands and placed them on the grey tile wall as the water grew warmer. I closed my eyes and stood there for a while. The water fell onto my hair and all down my face but I was trying to steady my breathing. My heart felt like it was going to pop out of my chest.

I grabbed my loofa and took a nice long shower, trying to keep my mind empty of any others. I stepped out of the shower, dried off and wrapped the towel around my waist. I looked through the closet area and found a simple black tee shirt and joggers. Got refreshed and put on the clothes and some nike slides before stepping out into the hallway.

When I stepped out to the lobby Yoongi and Namjoon had returned.

“Boss, we--”

“You weren’t able to catch them, I figured.” My tone was a bit harsh and I felt bad after saying it, but I’m sure they understand how stressed I am right now.

“I’ll catch them myself.” I muttered, looking towards the closed door of the surgery room.

The room is quiet again.

“It’ll be hours till she’s done so you guys can head home. I’ll keep you updated.” I announce and sit in a chair with my arms folded. The guys seemingly ignored my suggestion, cause I closed my eyes to think, and hear their shuffling.

About 30 minutes passed till I opened my eyes again and they were still there, also sitting with me.

I closed my eyes again, and didn’t open them till a tired Jennie stepped out from the room. I don’t know how much time had passed, but all the guys were sluggish in their movements cause they were half asleep.

I sprung up from my seat and looked directed at her. It was like the whole room was holding their breath.

“She’s stable. She’ll wake up in a day. I did everything right.” Jennie breaks out into a smile, tears welling in her eyes.

~!~

It’s day 5.

Y/n has not opened her eyes. I’ve sat there staring at her unmoving body for days. She’s not waking up, she’s responding or even giving us a hopefully foot twitch.

My angry eyes turn to Jennie who has unfortunately become the target for my anger. I feel bad, I really do but, Y/n should have been up days ago. None of the tests Jennie does shows anything wrong with her.

Yesterday I was yelling profanities at Jennie, asking her repeatedly if she’d done everything correct. I don’t know much about surgeries but I know a bullet to the hip or thigh area shouldn’t cause someone to be out this long!

I had already apologized to Jennie for the 3rd time and each time she was understanding. Everyone was worried. Jennie still had to go to work at the hospital so when she was gone, I just sat here in the hospital room, listening to the heart monitor beep.

When Jennie arrived, we exchanged a knowing look before I made my way out the room. And that’s how I ended up here.

I am at a familiar cemetery, staring at my father’s tombstone. It was on the father end of the cemetery, leaving a lot of space between it and the other tombstones.

“Jung Yunseok.” I read out my father's name. I sat down on the grass so I was facing his tombstone and like always I speak my mind.

“Dad, it’s been a while.” I say quietly. I look up at the sky for a moment. The sun is starting to set, leaving the sky a calming orange. Not too calming for me, but it’s pretty to look at.

“Work has been hectic. Y/n...has been distracting me. I don’t know if that’s how it was for you and mom-” I paused. The mention of her leaving a bittersweet taste in my mouth.

“How did you balance work and your personal life?” I chuckled to myself, “I didn’t think I’d like Y/n, so I brought her into my work world right from the start. What a stupid decision.”

“Because of my stupid decisions Y/n is laying there looking like a corpse.”

I stay quiet for a moment.

“She’s not like mom...at least I don’t think she is. If she was getting tired of me, she’d tell me. Every time she sees me, she looks at me with these bright eyes. She’s always happy to see me. No matter what. Could it style like that forever?”

“She did jump in front of a bullet for me.”

I run my fingers through my hair, “You and mom weren’t soulmates, so that plays a part into everything turning to shit but...Y/n and I are so if the universe doesn’t make mistakes like everyone says...she wouldn’t get tired of my lifestyle?”

“Would it be messed up if I took a step back? To clear my head?” I nervously rub my hands together before letting out a lengthy sigh.

“You always said when I’m confused, I should take a step back and see what my options are. But I know what they are. I can’t pretend I don’t like her, so it’s either I try this relationship thing 100% or I back off completely.”

The wind howls and the leaves rustle in the wind. I narrow my eyes as the wind causes tears to well up in them.

“I’m gonna keep my distance to gather my thoughts. No more decisions made off unsure thoughts.” I mutter.

My phone dings in my pocket and I pull it out to see a text from Jungkook.

Y/n woke up. She’s asking for you.

I read the text over and over again before locking my phone.

“Remember how I’d always say something was serendipity and you’d always say it was destiny.” I giggled at the memory.

“Well, serendipity is a good thing you’re not expecting or looking for. So meeting Y/n was serendipity for sure...I just can’t be sure if it’s really destiny.”

I stand up from my spot on the ground and brush off the dirt on my pants.

“I’ll let you know how things go dad.” I mutter, “Whether it’s good or bad.”

~!~

“We will discuss it another day Mr. Robins. For now, I will not raise the amount.” I said as I stood up from my seat at my desk. I stepped out of my office and down the hallway, wondering if I could get a few more kisses from Y/n.

Stupid work call interrupted us.

“Okay Mr. Jung. Sorry to call you past work hours and happy birthday” Mr. Robins said before the line went quiet. He hangs up just as I walk out to the lobby. Jennie, Jaehyun, Yoongi, Taehyung, Jungkook and Y/n laughing. Everyone’s attention turned to me as I walked in, Y/n’s gaze being the only one to linger a bit. She smiles at me before looking back at Jennie who was telling some story.

“So I’m standing at the check in desk, getting files from one of the nurses…” Jennie is sitting down at the table with Jaehyun sitting beside her. Everyone was seated except for Y/n and Jungkook who were standing next to each other near the table.

“He walks up and at first nothing looks wrong cause he’s his hand behind his back.” Jennie continues with her story as I walk up placing myself on Y/n’s other side. I could put my arm around her, or would that be too much?

Don’t want to look like I’m eager, but I am.

As if my internal conflict was heard, Y/n slides an arm around my waist and leans into me.

“I’ve heard this story a few times, but it’s still funny.” She whispers up at me with a smile and turns her attention to Jennie again.

“He says, ‘My hand just hurts a bit.’ So I tell him to write his name down and wait. So this guy brings up his hand that is wrapped up and is literally bleeding like crazy and I’m just staring at him like what the fuck?” Jennie going on.

“Does stuff like that happen a lot?” I whisper to Y/n.

“Oh yeah,” She whispers back, “All the time.”

“I ask him, sir, what happened to your hand? He says, in the calmest voice ever, ‘my circular saw split it in half while I was doing woodwork, and we all just stare at each other. Me, the nurse and the calmly bleeding man.”

I laugh as she explains further, “It was like a scene from ‘The Office’. I looked at the nurse, she looked at me, we both looked at the man and started shouting ‘GET A STRETCHER, I NEED NURSES ON HAND.’ It was horrifying.”

“So what happened to him?” Yoongi asked.

“We stitched up his hand and he was out of there a day later. But he was so calm, that we the doctors had to do the panicking for him,”

The conversation went on with weird topics and I just listened, laughing when someone said something funny.

“Awww,” Taehyung suddenly cooed. Oh no.

“Look how cute Hyung and Y/n look!” He put his hands to his cheeks and giggled.

“That’s my cue to leave!” I groaned, stepping out of Y/n’s hold.

“Wait Hoseok, don’t go! Let us gush over how cute you two look!” Yoongi joined in.

“I have more work to do anyways!” I yell back as I head back to the hallway.

“Y/n,” I say, realizing she isn’t following behind me, “let me know when you’re ready to go. I’ll drive you home.”

She looked surprised but nodded, “Okay.”

I waltz down the hallway and stop at the blue door, punching in the number code on the lock and opening the door enough to pop my head into the soundproof room.

I laid my eyes on the three men who sat tied to a chair, with duct tape on their mouths. Only two of them were awake, the dried blood on their face and cloths evidence of when we brought them in.

They panicked as they saw me, but I only shook my head.

“Oh don’t worry, I'm not finishing up today.” I say before looking into the hallway again to make sure Y/n isn’t coming.

“Honestly,” I start sarcastically, “I really hate the whole torture before killing thing but...you shot my girl, so I guess we all have to deal with the consequences.” I flash a smirk before stepping back and closing the door once again.

My girl.

Has a nice ring to it.

♠----♠----♠-----♠

Whew! 15k! My goodness what a long chapter! So let me know what you think! Do you think you understand Hoseok better?

Was it what you expected? And the things that were going on that Y/n, didn’t see...what did you think about that? Let me know what you think!

:))

466 notes · View notes

mldrgrl · 4 years ago

Note

Hello ! I love your fanfictions and i have a prompt for you: Scully discovers Mulder's secret talent. He gives the best back rubs. (ust to rst maybe ?).

Magic Fingers by: mldrgrl Rating: PG-13 to be safe

It was her shoulder, the first time. She’d been hunched uncomfortably over an autopsy table for too long in too cramped conditions - the best a small town without an official medical examiner could offer - and she had paid the price that night that a handful of Tylenol couldn’t cure.

And Mulder wouldn’t stop talking.

He went on and on, arguing not even with her, but with himself, changing his theory as rapidly as he thumbed through the latest photos. She tried to focus her attention on what he was saying, but the pain in her shoulder was too distracting and she was too weary.

As he droned, she reached up with her right hand and squeezed the top of her left shoulder. He didn’t notice her wince or her whimper, which was just as well. She closed her eyes, pressing as deeply into the aching muscle as she could with her fingers. It was somehow both more painful and less painful at the same time. Her brows drew towards one another in concentrated effort and after a few moments, she realized Mulder had finally, blessedly, stopped talking. She opened her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she answered, lowering her hand and unconsciously rolling her shoulder back. “My shoulder. It’s fine.”

He looked at her with his head tilted, plucking at his bottom lip with his thumb and index fingers. He scooted his chair over closer to hers and slid his pile of photos along with him. He picked up where he left off and he reached up, one-handedly massaging her shoulder as he pointed to different things in the photos he wanted her to see.

She probably should have told him to stop, but she was afraid if she were to open her mouth it would be to weep with relief. His thumb pushed into the back of her shoulder in the exact spot she needed him to and she had to bite her lip to stop from moaning.

With slightly trembling hands, she picked up one of the photos to examine the shape of some burn marks that he was insisting held a pattern that she couldn’t see. Without missing a beat, Mulder stood and shifted his right hand to her right shoulder and his left to her left. He leaned over her chair just a little, speaking down above her head as he continued on with a very firm and thorough massage of her shoulders.

“I, uh…” She blew out a breath and fought against dropping her head forward. “It looks...it looks…Mulder, even if I saw what you did, what does it prove?”

“You’re right.” He abruptly stopped his massage and his hands stilled on her shoulders. He gave her one last squeeze and then gathered the photos.

“Leave them,” she said. “I’ll look them over again in the morning, once I’ve gotten some sleep.”

He nodded and then looked at his watch and cringed. “Sorry, Scully, it’s…”

“It’s okay.” She got up to walk him to the door of her motel room. “Thank you for, um…” She gestured to her shoulder. “It feels a lot better.”

“Anytime.” He grinned and then wiggled his fingers at her. “They don’t call me Magic Fingers Mulder for nothing.”

“Who’s they?”

He shrugged. “People could.”

“Mmhm.”

“Night, Scully.”

“Good night, Mulder.”

****

The second time it was a headache that had been troubling her for the better part of an evening. They were very inconveniently on a stakeout, trapped within the confines of the front seats of their rental car. The headlights of passing cars would occasionally whiz by, the bright light making her flinch and try to surreptitiously sink below the dashboard. It was only when Mulder would press the binoculars to his face that she could discreetly rub her temples or pinch the bridge of her nose for some relief. She’d washed down a few aspirin with tepid coffee over an hour ago and the dull ache remained. She’d also made sure the glove compartment was well-stocked with napkins for any sudden nosebleeds.

“Give me your hand,” Mulder suddenly said.

“My hand?” Without thinking about it, she started to put her hand out to him, but then pulled it back. “Why?”

“I’m bored, thought I’d read your palm.” He put the binoculars down in his lap and turned his head to her and inclined his chin up at her. “I can help with that.”

“Help with what?”

“Your headache. Let me see your hand.”

“I don’t…” She stopped her denial short when she saw his brows go up. Reluctantly, she moved her arm up and held her hand out to him. He folded his arm over hers and held it steady tucked up against his side.

“This is the Hegu,” he said, pressing his thumb into the divot between the base of her thumb and index finger. In the same spot, but on her palm, he pressed with his index finger so that it was like he had her hand in a vice.

Almost immediately, she felt a lightness in her head. The pain hadn’t gone away entirely, but rather she was numb to it. She could still feel the thrum of the headache without actually feeling the ache.

“Tell me if I press too hard,” he said.

“It’s fine,” she murmured.

“Guessing they never covered acupressure in med school?”

“No, they didn’t.”

He moved his thumb in a slow circle, massaging her hand while keeping an eye on the suspect’s windows. Within minutes, she could no longer feel the pain in her head and finally she flexed her fingers and tugged on his grip every so slightly to indicate he could let go.

“Want me to do the other side?” he asked.

She wiped a hand across her brow. “No, I think...it’s gone, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He picked up the binoculars from his lap and put them to his face again. “Say something earlier next time. You don’t have to suffer.”

“Okay,” she replied, with no intention of keeping that promise.

*****

She’d been awake since 4:30 am EST and it was currently 8:42 am PST. That was over 31 hours by her estimation without sleep, on her feet, in the same boots she’d stepped into before heading to Dulles.

She hobbled into her motel room, barely able to muster the energy to remove her leather jacket. She tried to drape it over the chair by the window, but it slipped off the back and she left it on the floor. All she wanted to do was sleep.

Not bothering to turn the bed down, she crawled across the mattress and collapsed onto her back, sprawling diagonally and staring up at the popcorn ceiling. Mulder pushed through the connecting door only moments later, already in fresh jeans and bare-chested.

“I booked the next flight out,” he said. “We leave in twenty minutes.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered.

He chuckled and sat down by her feet. “Tomorrow morning,” he said, unzipping her right boot. She groaned as he pulled it off her foot. He took her left boot off as well and then pulled his legs up to sit cross-legged with her feet in his lap.

“Oh my god,” she said, when he slid his thumbs up her insteps. Her eyes slipped shut and she sighed.

“That good?”

“Don’t stop.”

“Careful, it’s talk like that that’ll lead to breaking the rules.”

“I don’t care. Don’t stop.”

He worked both feet at the same time for a few minutes and then concentrated on the left with both hands, massaging from heel to toe. She only let a few moans slip out. He moved on to the right foot and she winced when he squeezed the knuckle of her pinkie toe. She was fairly certain she’d developed a blister.

“Hurt?” he asked.

“Blister, I think,” she answered.

“Why do you wear them?”

“Why?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Scully, the heels, the boots, they’re sexy as hell-”

“Careful,” she interrupted. “It’s talk like that that’ll lead to breaking the rules.”

“But, your poor little feet.” He stopped massaging to gently caress the top of her foot.

“They’ll survive.” She wiggled her toes at him to hint that he wasn’t finished.

“I could’ve been doing this for you years ago.”

“It matters more that you’re doing it for me now.”

He stopped and her feet slipped from his lap as he uncrossed his legs. He hovered over her on his hands and knees and then bent down and kissed the corner of her mouth. She opened one eye and then reached up and pinched his chin before he could actually kiss her lips.

“It’s a stupid rule,” he mumbled, turning his head and pursing his lips to kiss her thumb instead.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“No, actually, I think I recall you telling me not to stop.” He crawled back, returned to his cross-legged position, and took her feet back into his lap.

She yawned. “Just let me get a few hours in,” she murmured. “You should get some sleep as well.”

“You sleep. I think I’ll take the rental and head to Lady Footlocker and get you some sneakers.”

*****

How things have changed, she thought, as she knocked on his door. When she’d started feeling faint, feeling nauseated, instead of hiding away she went straight to Mulder. This thing between them was new, still in development, playful and flirtatious and fun. She’d never had to seek comfort or reassurance from him before, but she needed it now.

He brought her in, helped her into his bed and out of her shoes, wrapped his arms around her and whispered lovely things into her ear. The chill she felt left her and she was able to stop trembling. The nausea abated, but she still felt strange and restless.

“What can I do?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “I feel achy and tired.”

“The flu?”

“It doesn’t feel like the flu. It doesn’t feel like anything I’ve experienced before.”

He slipped out of the bed and turned off all the lights except for the dim vanity light in the bathroom. He came back with one of the sample-sized bottles of motel lotion and collected all the photos that had scattered across the bed when he laid her down.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes,” he said.

“Agent Mulder,” she murmured. “Are you coming on to me?”

“Only for the last seven years. You just finally noticed a few months ago. Can you sit up?”

She pushed herself up and tiredly brushed the hair out of her face. He opened the buttons on her blouse and she twisted her shoulders this way and that to free her arms. She unhooked her bra on her own and he rolled the comforter back and shoved the pillows aside as she pushed her slacks off her hips.

She laid down on her stomach with her right cheek pressed to the bed. Mulder straddled the backs of her thighs and kept most of his weight on his knees. The lotion he squeezed onto his palms smelled like lemons. Not unpleasant, but not ideal either. The next time he was inspired to give her a massage, she’d try to have something nicer on hand.

He started at the middle of her back and smoothed his slick hands up to her shoulders. She pushed out a small puff of air as she tried to settle and relax. He was quiet as he worked her shoulders and neck. No jokes, no witty remarks. She savored the silence and for once, allowed herself to just enjoy being taken care of.

“You really are good at this,” she murmured.

“I told you once before, they don’t call me Magic Fingers Mulder for nothing.”

“Yet you never told me who ‘they’ were.”

“Anyone who’s been lucky enough to have the magic fingers upon them.”

She smiled with the right side of her mouth and snorted lightly. He braced his hands on the small of her back and then scooted down closer to the backs of her knees. For her, it was at that point when the massage took a turn from gentle and comforting to unbearably erotic. And it wasn’t anything that he purposefully did, it was simply that her brain suddenly seemed to register the fact that her skin and his hands had gotten intimately familiar as of late and she started to anticipate what should come next.

It was hard work to be still when every drag of his fingers down her back and the slow slide of his palms up to the backs of her shoulders made her feel like writhing. Her pelvis ached and her stomach dropped and flipped and heat flooded her veins and made her skin prickle. She could feel sweat forming at her temples and low back from the effort it took not to push her hips up into his hands. Tears gathered behind her closed eyes and clung to her lashes before rolling slowly across her cheek and nose, dripping silently to the bed.

“Scully?” Mulder paused and placed his hand lightly at the back of her neck, thumbing her hair out of the way.

“I love you,” she breathed. “I…”

It took exactly two seconds for Mulder to respond. “I love you too,” he said. He bent down, touched his lips to the back of her shoulder and then continued with the massage. His touch was a bit firmer though, more confident. Saying those words out loud was like its own kind of release. She felt satiated and calm.

At some point, she felt Mulder move off of her and felt the blankets being draped over her. Half-asleep, she let her hand flop blindly across the bed, looking for Mulder.

“I’m here,” he whispered, sliding his hand into hers as he lifted the covers and slid in beside her. He’d stripped to his boxers. Warm flesh against warm flesh. She put her arm over his chest and slid one leg between his. “My little rulebreaker,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head.

*****

She was due in less than two weeks and she felt every bit as pregnant as she looked. She hadn’t seen her feet in a month and she couldn’t last more than twenty minutes without needing a bathroom. She loved it though. She loved feeling the baby kick; finding a little hand or foot or elbow pressed against her abdomen; or the time the baby had the hiccups. It was what she had hoped and prayed for.

What she didn’t love, was the constant ache that had developed in her hips and lower back. She had yet to find a position she could be in, standing, sitting, or laying, that offered any relief. She had asked about it at her last Lamaze class and the answers had been simple: take a warm bath or apply warm compresses, elevate the hips, try massage. She’d tried the bath, tried the compresses, and elevated her hips. None of it worked.

She was having a particularly rough day when Mulder knocked on her door. Things had been so strange between them since his return. She tried to understand his trauma, tried not to push, but she didn’t expect him to shut her out so completely. He had only recently started to express a hint of interest in the baby, but had yet to ask her the questions she knew he must have. He’d attended her last Lamaze class with her a few evenings prior and she had waited through the silence of the car ride home, willing him to say something, but he hadn’t.

“Pizza?” he asked, holding out his offering to her when she answered the door.

“Come in.” She pushed the door open and walked away to let him see himself in. Waddled, is more like it. She dug her fists into the small of her back and headed slowly to the couch. He was lucky she’d already been up, on her way from the bathroom to the kitchen when he knocked, otherwise he’d still be waiting.

Mulder followed closely behind and set the pizza box down on the coffee table. He shed his jacket and then pushed the sleeves of his sweater up as he headed to the kitchen for plates and napkins. He seemed relaxed, almost jovial. He brought the plates and napkins and then disappeared again, returning this time with two glasses of water. She eyed him a little suspiciously as he doled out the pizza.

“What, um...brought this on?” she asked, watching him devour nearly half a slice of pizza in a single bite as she blew the heat off her own slice.

“Thought you might need some sustenance,” he replied around his mouthful.

She stretched her back and sighed. “What I could really use are those magic fingers of yours,” she answered.

Mulder wiped his mouth with a napkin and glanced at her belly and everywhere else but her face. When he finally looked her in the eye he cleared his throat and then looked away, setting his pizza plate onto the coffee table.

“I can do that,” he said. “I’ve actually been...reading about it. There was, uh...a pamphlet at the Lamaze place. I brought it home.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “It’s fine,” she said. “I was joking.” She was actually only half-kidding. She would kill her beloved pizza delivery man for a massage from Mulder.

“You don’t want me to.” The statement was very matter-of-fact and a little forlorn. He turned away and stared at the coffee table.

“I just don’t want you to feel...obligated.”

“When have I ever felt obligated?” He turned his head towards her and glanced down at her belly again. He tapped his fingers together nervously.

“I suppose...never.”

“But, if you don’t want me to, I’ll...it’s fine.”

“I do.” She put the pizza back onto the plate without taking a bite. “I want you to.”

“Okay.” He stood and then sat back down again and leaned forward off the edge of the cushion. “Uh, it says the best way to do it is for you to lay on your side. Should we…?”

“You’ll have to help me up.”

He took her hands and helped pull her from the couch. She puffed her cheeks and expelled a puff of air with the exertion and then twisted the knuckles of her index fingers into her hips after letting go of him. He put the pizza away in the kitchen while she went to the bedroom to lay down. She took her robe off but left her cotton t-shirt and flannel pants on.

Mulder stood in the doorway watching her arrange the pillows - one under her head, one between her knees, one clutched to her chest like a teddy bear. He hovered there until she was in place and then he stepped out of his shoes on his way over to the bed.

“The guides said not a lot of pressure,” he said, one hand hovering over her shoulder. “Long strokes and...if anything hurts or doesn’t feel right, you tell me.”

“I will,” she said.

He finally knelt behind her, but it was still a few more moments before he touched her. She sighed immediately, even the soft pressure of his thumbs above her tailbone was immensely gratifying. She groaned and his hands flew up.

“Too much?” he asked. “Hurts?”

“No, it’s good,” she assured him. “Feels really good.”

“Okay.”

For the first time she could remember, his touch was tentative. He’d never hesitated over her before and she hoped it was only because the health scare she’d had with the baby made him nervous, and not because she made him nervous. He gradually became less timid and her muscles were singing in appreciation.

“I want to confess something,” he said, suddenly, but didn’t stop massaging her.

“Okay.”

“I saw your chart when you were in the hospital. You’re...38 weeks now.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not the best at math, but...when you felt sick, in Oregon, does that mean…?”

She swallowed hard and shifted her eyes to glance back at him. “I found out the night you went missing.”

“Oh.”

There was an extended silence. She counted the slide of Mulder’s hands up and down her back. Fourteen passes and he said nothing more.

“Is there anything else you’d like to know?” she asked.

“I didn’t really know what was happening when I woke up. I thought...I thought years had passed, at first. I thought you had tried the IVF again or had moved on...with someone else.”

“You could’ve asked.”

“You could’ve just told me.”

“I didn’t want to push.”

“I was afraid of what the answer might be.”

She sighed and then he stopped and rested his hand on her hip. She took it, laced their fingers together and brought his arm up and across her waist to rest on top of her stomach. He shifted and laid down behind her.

“I saw something else,” he said.

“What?”

“You’re having a boy.”

“We’re having a boy,” she confirmed.

He pressed his face into the back of her head and breathed deeply. His chest swelled against her back and she pulled him closer until he fit snugly against her.

“When do you think we…?” he asked.

“After you went chasing crop circles in England,” she said. “I think.”

“I remember.” He pulls his fingers free from hers only to rest his whole hand fully on her swollen belly. “Scully, I’m not much of a catch right now - unemployed, recently raised from the dead, terrible cook, and I’ve been known to be a bit of a short-sighted, selfish SOB at times, but all I know is that one day we were in Oregon and we loved each other and suddenly it’s six months later and everything is different, but I still love you and...and I’m pretty good at keeping my fish happy and I tell great jokes and I can promise to give you really good massages every day for the rest of...for as long as you’ll have me. If you’ll have me.”

“Mulder,” she whispered, hugging his arm to her chest and pulling his hand up to kiss his knuckles.

“You don’t have to answer right now or anything.”

“Shut up, Mulder.”

“Okay, but-”

She cut him off by turning her head and pulling him into a kiss. It lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough to end any doubts for either of them. She snuggled back down into his arms and he tightened his hold on her.

“Magic Fingers Mulder strikes again,” he whispered.

She rolled her closed eyes, but smiled.

The End

#i wrote this #xf fanfic #humor #fluff #msr #scully deserves all the massages #Anonymous

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