#we’ve been picking through the red folder if you were curious

[forwhump]

You Know Not What It Is

a/n; this was supposed to be kind of a fun random chunk of silas backstory reveal which is why i picked it but then i realized it’s actually just more of point being a dickhead so if you’re in the market for that buckle in & let’s go & if you’re not, sorry ! the next one will be smth fresh & brand new I promise <3

tw/cw: graphic depictions of violence, guns, torture, psychological torture, mentions of noncon, misgendering, transphobia, vomiting, racism, grievous bodily harm, dehumanization, execution, major character death

living weapon whumpee

Silas is mostly dead the first time he hears anything about who he used to be.

It happens on the floor of the common room, and Silas hates dying in front of the unit. He’s sure they all know well enough that he’ll be back, but it still seems to traumatize them each time it happens. The horror of it, Silas supposes. He never goes gently.

“Pathetic,” Point scoffs at them. “You are soldiers. You should be above forming such attachments to the…machinery.” He looks down towards Silas, gurgling on the concrete, drowning from the inside.

Silas can’t die, but Silas isn’t made of stone. Silas can be wounded. Silas scars. How many traumatic brain injuries does he get to walk away from? How many more times can he get shot in the face?

He gets to find out.

“It bleeds,” Point says, and points his gun down, “but it is not like you. It doesn’t need you to save it.” He pulls the trigger. He shoots Silas in the puckered hollow of his empty eye socket.

Silas doesn’t really have any recollection of losing consciousness but he loses a weird chunk of time. He hears the gunshot, he feels the heat of the impact in his face, and then he’s staring up at the ceiling but he can’t really see anything that isn’t red mist and his ears are ringing at a pitch that’s giving him a migraine, that’s making the red mist wet and weird and kind of watery.

There’s a weight on his chest that makes it hard to breathe, that makes him wretch, and he only knows it’s Point because of the mocking pitch of his voice when he speaks, sitting with all his weight on Silas’ fractured ribcage. “What keeps bleeding but just doesn’t die?” He teases.

Silas vomits but he can’t move or turn his head at all and he chokes, trying to heave with a chest that’s been crushed. It hurts more than he thinks he’s ever hurt. It hurts in every nerve and fiber and the hollow of his bones. He vomits again. His lungs have been punctured. There’s a bullet in his brain.

“You were all here,” Point explains, conversational, cross legged on Silas’ chest as it caves in, “before its name was in the news, so it’s of no surprise to me that none of you knew who it was. Usually, there would be no reason to say, because it’s of no consequence. But,” and Silas doesn’t need to see or even hear him clearly to hear the smile in his voice, even through the ringing, “you all protect it so staunchly, and you know not what it is. Do you know where we found the body we used for the prototype? Where we found Silas Park?”

Silas gurgles. A sort of dark haze has started sifting through the red mist and he doesn’t think that means anything good for him.

“His name was all over the news before we got our hands on him,” Point continues, almost grandeur. “It was every headline. His face was everywhere. Would anybody like to guess why?”

Silas would swear he could hear Point’s face stretch as he grins.

“No?” He says. “There are a few reasons. The barbarity of the murderers was a big one. The number of them. The trial, of course, was a big controversy, because of his behaviour and because of his fan club. You know how girls are about serial killers when they’re young men.”

Silas can’t see and he can’t really hear and his brain is still trying to fire but he isn’t really capable of thinking about anything except how much everything hurts, how heavy he is, how tired. He can’t breathe and his chest hurts but everything else hurts, too.

Still, Point’s voice rises above the ringing and it sticks out in the part of Silas’ brain that hasn’t been liquified. Serial killer.

Silas doesn’t remember anything about himself or his life before this place, but he knows that can’t be true. It can’t be. Silas is violent as the result of genetic manipulation and bioengineering. Silas is violent because of this place. Silas isn’t bad.

“He was very arrogant,” Point says. “Very unapologetic. He butchered so many people. Sentenced to death,” he explains, “which is how we got our hands on him. State didn’t care what we did with him and it saved the taxpayers the cost of having to execute him. That’s why it’s here,” he tuts. “That’s why it was chosen to become what it is now. Your sympathy for it is bullshit because now it’s a weapon and before that it was rotten. Your sadness is wasted.”

It isn’t true because it can’t be true. Silas isn’t rotten. There’s parts of Silas that are almost still human, and they’re the parts that are supposed to be good.

“I’m still human,” Point says. “I’m capable of remorse. I feel no remorse for the machine because of what it was before and because now it isn’t much of anything. It’s a tool for me to use. Sometimes it backfires. In such a case, it needs to be corrected. Nothing more.”

It’s loud in his wake; something wet is churning in Silas’ ears and he can hear the awful hiss of his breath like he’s breathing through his ears but it’s still quiet, it’s too quiet; nobody in the unit says anything for such a long time.

Silas almost thinks he might’ve lost them and it’s a devastating blow as he twitches with blood loss. But —

“You’re not any more human than we are,” Hal’s voice says from somewhere far away, from somewhere in the next room over. Silas can barely hear him. “You’re a monster.”

Point laughs and the rumble of it against Silas’ chest makes him vomit. His head lolls to one side, not with any conscious thought but with the force of his convulsions, and his chest hitches as he vomits blood and foam onto the concrete next to his face. Point laughs again and the process repeats. To Hal, he says, “we took a huge gamble with you, y’know, Singh. Your local 7/11 fell apart without you.”

“Fuck you,” Hal spits.

“You’re not my type. But the girl’s easy,” Point offers, “if you don’t mind ‘em used.”

“Motherfucker,” Wren spits.

The rumble of Point’s laughter makes Silas see white spots of light. “Careful, baby,” he coos. “You know to watch how you speak to me.”

“Leave him alone,” June snaps, not any closer than Hal but with a sort of ferocity that Silas would laud if he weren’t foaming bile and blood onto the concrete.

Point makes an amused sort of sound, a kind of click. “Him. It’s cute,” he says, “that you all kinda entertain her little delusion. It’s like your little inside joke.” He laughs again, a loud, condescending sort of sound that pushes Silas’ ribcage back into his body and he loses another chunk of time.

When he comes back to himself he’s foaming from the mouth and the nose and he can’t breathe around it. Point had climbed off of him and Silas is kind of hunched over, his cheek sticky against concrete that’s hot with blood. The same heat still pours from the exit wound at the back of his head, unslowed. The same heat trickles down his face from the hole blown into his eye socket.

Silas doesn’t even see red mist anymore, just a hazy sort of darkness that ebbs and flows as he gags.

He only feels Point’s boot against his hair when he shifts, grinding Silas’ face further into the concrete.

“I’m starting to think you may not be shaping up to be the soldiers we need you to be,” he’s saying, and he sounds like tin. “The empathy in this unit is just fuckin’ astounding. It disgusts me.” He makes a sound like he spits on him, but Silas can’t tell. Every inch of naked flesh is already wet and tacky, sweat and blood and foam and bile. “We’ll rid you of it yet. I’m disgusted, but I am not concerned.” Somewhere too close, his gun clicks. “We’re going to start with some exposure therapy. How many times do you think you’ll need to watch the freak die before you’re desensitized?”

He probably fires more than once, but Silas is none the wiser. He’s dead after the first round to the side of the head.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(Clone Wars- The Bad Batch) That Time of the Month

(Author’s note:  So I’ve had this sitting in my incomplete folder for some time. 

I hate to play into the whole stereotype about females around this time of the month because I understand that every woman is different, but this is my experience.  Every month, with the exception of a few times, I find myself getting easily irritated and feeling extra sensitive, whether it be to people’s comments or jokes. And every month I get so confused and cry into my hands like, “what’s wrong with me?  I’m never like this!”  And then it finally occurs to me to take a look at the calendar, and then I’m like, “oh...well that explains it.”

Not saying that it justifies crappy behavior, but like...it sucks to feel this way.  And even though those feelings are very real, I always apologize to my friends and fam if I was an impatient wench to them in the moment.

Warning, mentions of periods).

   Feeling the irritation flare up into anger, you stood up abruptly and left the room in flash.  As the door slid shut behind you, the four males were left rather confused.  Hunter looked to Tech for an answer, but he only gave a shrug.  Wrecker frowned, and Crosshair sat in silence to analyze the interaction that just occurred.

   Wrecker took the liberty of finally breaking the silence.  “What?  Was it something we said?”

   “I’m not sure,” Tech replied.

   Hunter tipped his head to the side, eyeing the floor as he thought.  “Something’s been off about her this week.  Something in her scent, and even her eyes and voice.  It’s subtle, but the change is definitely there.”

   “Hm,” Tech hummed, typing rapidly on his holopad.  “Changes in mood, voice…”

   “What are you doing?” Crosshair’s gaze flickered to the device.

   “I have a theory.”  Then, Tech nodded at the search result displayed on his holopad, humming again.  “There’s a possibility that __________ is experiencing PMS.”

   “What’s that?” Wrecker asked, leaning in.

   Tech adjusted his goggles.  “Do you recall the reproduction unit in our Biology course on Kamino?  The part about females and the cycle they go through-?”

   “Yes, I think we all remember that,” Hunter interjected with a grimace.  “Is that what’s going on?”

   He continued swiping through articles on the holopad, the light reflecting off his goggles as words sped by.  “Possibly, but I don’t want to assume.  According to the holonet, females may take it the wrong way if you ask them directly.”

   “Well, we don’t want to make it worse,” Crosshair muttered.

   “But shouldn’t we make sure she’s okay?”  Wrecker looked at Hunter with wide eyes.  “I mean, that stuff is scary.”

   “It’s nature,” Tech corrected.  He put the holopad away.  “It’s quite fascinating too, how the female body has such an elaborate system.”

   Hunter stood up with resolve.  “I’m going to see how she is.”

   “Shouldn’t we just let her come talk to us when she’s ready?” Crosshair protested with the roll of his eyes.  In his mind, he figured you might rather not be bothered since you had walked out of the ship’s dining area.

   “But what if she thinks we don’t care?” Wrecker asked.

   “Alright, alright,” Hunter sighed.  “I’m going to just knock on the door and take it from there.  If she wants to be left alone, she’ll tell me.”  He was more inclined to check on you since his ears picked up a sound on the other side of the ship where your quarters were.  It sounded like crying- muffled crying.  He headed for the hallway, releasing another sigh when he heard his teammates following.  Even Crosshair seemed curious to know what would become of his attempt to speak to you.  Hunter reached your door, and the sounds were clearly what he thought.

   Inside, you were sitting on the bed, face buried in your hands, and letting the tears fall.  You didn’t let out a sob out of fear that Hunter would hear from wherever he was, and you knew your fears were confirmed when there was a knock at the door.

   “Come in,” you said, voice shaking.  The door slid open, and Hunter walked in, pausing a few feet away.  Before he could say a word, you looked at him with eyes red and tears glistening on your cheeks.  “I’m s-sorry.  I didn’t mean to snap like that.  It’s just, I don’t feel the greatest right now, and with you guys picking on me...”

   “It’s alright,” Hunter assured you, holding his hands up.

   “Is she crying?” you heard Wrecker’s voice fail to whisper outside the door.  “I thought she was mad, not sad.”

   You laughed, wiping the tears as Tech responded loudly.  “It’s hormone surges.  Sometimes it causes swift mood changes.”

   Hunter gave the door a swift bang with his fist, growling, “you know, we can hear you!”  He rolled his eyes when it grew silent on the other side and approached, taking a seat at the edge of your bunk.  “Look, I’m...sorry.  We didn’t mean to upset you.”

   “No, I know you guys tease me because I’m part of the team.  Usually, I don’t mind.”

   “I know,” he nodded.  “I heard that it might be a...sensitive time for you.”

   “Yeah, it is.”  You sniffled.  “Sorry if that freaks you out.”

   “Not at all.  We’ve seen some dire situations together,” he chuckled.  “I just want you to be alright.”

   “Thank you.”  You wiped more tears, and he gently rested a hand on your back.  Touch from the Sergeant was rare because of his abilities, but it was welcome.  It also magnified your guilt for getting upset earlier, though.  “I’m really sorry.”

   “For the last time, it’s okay,” he said with a light chuckle.  “Do you need anything?”

   “I kind of stormed out of the kitchen area before I could get any lunch,” you mumbled.  “And I’m still hungry.”

   “Lunch it is, then.”  He patted your back.  “Anything in particular?”

   “Oh, it’s okay, I’ll make it.”  You shifted, but Hunter firmly planted his palm on your shoulder to keep you from getting up.

    “Don’t you worry about it.  Just go ahead and rest for a few.”

   “O-okay.”

   He stood up and headed out the door.  You heard hushed voices as he informed the others of the situation, and then you saw Wrecker poke his head in.

   “Hey _________, I’m going to make you my famous double-decker sandwich for lunch!”

   You couldn’t help the smile.  “Thank you, that’s so nice.”

   “It’s no trouble at all.  I was going to make one for myself too,” he said.  “Then maybe we can watch a holomovie!  Crosshair and Tech are picking one out right now, actually.”

   “Oh, you guys,” you shook your head.  “You’re too nice.”

   “Anything for our _________!”

[stxrrywildflower]

disbanded (1)

pairing - spencer reid x reader

summary - after emily’s death, the still grieving bau team disbands in hopes of the time off doing some emotional healing. however, for you and spencer, strauss recruits you for your own individual team almost immediately. months later, after new case details are discovered, you and spencer are forced to call in your old team for assistance

warnings - case details, angst

series masterlist

seven months.

seven months had gone by and the team had barely heard anything from you or spencer.

there were occasional texts, letters, and phone calls. the messages were always brief, never lasting more than a few sentences or minutes.

j.j. returned to the bau around three months in. she was changed, everyone noticed that. the blonde agent put on a facade, masking any signs of trauma or difference.

the only crack in her foundation was when she saw the practically empty desk. it came as a suprise to see desks normal covered in pictures and other items now almost cleared. the only reminder of your presence was both of your name plates remaining.

everyone felt a toll with what was going on. they were missing three out of eight team members. sure, they weren’t working active cases, but just having everyone around made a difference.

hotch was the leader. the alpha-male. he kept everyone in line while providing the support and care any member of his team needed at all times. though his leadership in the middle east was more then successful, they missed having the role model to look up to.

spencer was the kid. the boy genius. his intelligence was more than impressive, though he often used it as a shields. his facts, while sometimes unneeded, provided the final piece of a profile to catch the unsub. the team never knew they could miss his rambling more.

you were the glue. the one that kept the team together. though your presence was still fairly new in comparison to others, your witty remarks and overal care for everyone acted as a backbone. your relationship with spencer was almost model worthy, something everyone wanted to look up. you changed spencer in the best way possible.

they knew where hotch had gone. but for you and spencer, no one had any clue. when j.j hunted down and questioned anderson, the man had very obviously lied about not knowing before leaving to go back to work.

eventually they stopped asking.

four months later, hotch returned. his return back was less then minimal, being greeted with smiles, hugs, and even the stray comment about the beard. the reunion was short lived as hotch had requested them all to meet in the conference room.

curious and concerned gazes were thrown back and forth. no one voiced their confusion, choosing to obey the orders of their leader and take seats for the first time in seven months around the round table.

“we’ve been called in,” the unit chief started.

✦✧✦✧

across the country, you threw your head back in annoyance with the case. spencer leaned against the table, one arm crossed across his body while the other ran over his lip.

the recent case was becoming increasingly difficult. a series of robbery homicides involving a team of seven different members was terrorizing the city of los angeles.

you had successfully identified four members though the other three were a mystery. there were many facts pointing to the possibility of involvement in organized crime. one wrong move in your investigation and a lot more could go wrong.

three days and no solid leads.

usually you and spencer were wrapping up other cases by now. instead, you were sitting in one of the rooms at the los angeles police department reviewing the profile over and over. spencer, on the other hand, was going though every report you had on the unsubs, desperate to find something that could like them all together to give you a clue.

what didn’t help was the heat. the summer heat was hitting the city hard, you and spencer shedding your suit jackets as a result.

“have you checked prison records?” you asked, looking at the board in front of you.

“yes, absolutely no connections there.”

you huffed. you weren’t getting anywhere despite having a near perfect profile and organized board showing a whole crime family tree.

“we need to call in some extra help,” you finally admitted.

“y/n,” spencer started. “i don’t think we really need them. i mean we work perfectly fine on our own. we’re pretty much the new rossi and gideon.”

“look, i don’t really want to see them either. but if we don’t figure out something soon, more people are going to die. a fresh set of eyes could do us good,” you replied.

spencer fiddled with collar of his shirt, a nervous habit he had picked up a few months ago. it was a telltale of his growing concern or anxiety over a situation.

you sat down beside the genius, resting your hand on top of his. “hey, it’s one case. after this we’re back solving cases on our own. does that sound okay?”

“i’ll go make the call.”

✦✧✦✧

“why do they need us? we don’t even have a full team,” morgan was already protesting after the very minimal briefing.

“because y/n and reid requested our help,” hotch answewd.

j.j. most notability flinched at the mention of your names. “what do you mean they need out help? i haven’t really heard from them in months,” j.j. pipped in.

hotch sighed. “back when we split up, strauss inquired y/n and reid to continue doing our job, traveling and all. i was only aware of it because technically i’m still their boss. it’s a lot more intense then when we were traveling, hence their absence. but their success is incredibly high. i don’t have the exact number but it’s around sixty-three cases solved in seven months. of that, five or less have ended in having to shoot the unsub.”

rossi let our a low whistle at that. “have either of them been hurt at all?”

“a few minor injuries but none involving hospitalization

the unit chief looked around at his team, all displaying very conflicted emotions.

“we’ll leave here at five tomorrow morning. be prepared for a long case.”

the team arrived the following morning, heading up to the second floor of the police department at promptly nine am. everyone was slightly jet lagged, time zones the direct cause of that.

just seconds after they had arrived, who they presumed was the police chief headed over on their direction, already extending a hand to shake.

“i’m detective henderson. the other two agents on the case apologize for the absence and should be back soon. one of the family members requested to see him,” the police chief introduced. “but you can all set up in here.”

the team followed the chief through the office and into the usual conference room they were offered. no one failed to take note of the other room occupied, a familiar messanger bag resting on the table.

“and here we are. there’s information posted on the board but i’m sure the agents will explain it when they arrive. please feel free to come to me with any questions.”

hotch was the one to thank the chief. “alright let’s sit down and go over the files. we didn’t have a lot to go off of back at quantico but there’s a ton here.”

it couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes that they waiting, using that time to run through theories about the identified unsubs and ways to find the missing three.

the room seemed to stop, all eyes going towards the elevator.

the team stood up all at once, already suspecting who was about to walk in. their suspicions were proven to be correct as you and spencer stepped out, eyes looking straight ahead.

to put it simply, you two looked and acted different.

seemingly small things for outsiders but things that meant everything for the team had changed.

handshakes replaced hugs. nods replaced smiles. iced coffee replaced hot. even spencer’s revolver he used since the ldsk case was replaced with a glock 19.

since when did spencer drink red bull?

even your style of clothing altered. spencer’s dress pants and sweaters were swapped out for one-piece suits, tie and all. your blouse and dress pants changed into suits, having matching patterned tight pants and blazers, heels to top it off. your outfits both looked ten times more formal.

“agent hotchner,” you greeted, extending your hand.

it was obvious hotch, as well as the rest of the team, was taken back by your words and presence. the last time anyone close to hotch refer to him as ‘agent hotchner’ was when they first met him. he was always very clear about preferring the abbreviated version of his last name.

spencer was the exact same as you, his discomfort with shaking hands seemingly vanished. it pained morgan that he couldn’t reach out and hug the man he considered to be his little brother.

“i apologize for us not being here when you arrived, i know from experience that it’s a long flight. the board in your room has all the information we’ve collected. there’s a timeline, victim list, crime scene photos, and then a family tree. we also have transcripts which can be sent to your tablets. other than that, the case details are in the file folders and you’re good to go,” you explained.

“y/n,” hotch called, stopping both you and spencer from walking away.

“before you ask, i really think we need to focus on this case before discussing transfers. don’t you think so?”

☆ ☆ ☆

tags - @tinylumpiaa @rumplebutterbitch @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @the-quarantine-diaries @ah-blossom @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @aperrywilliams @kissessforharryyy @garcias-batcave @reidswords @etherealgubler @spenceneedsahug @jjandreidsgirl @zoseph @emilouu @mortallythoughtfulgurl @alexxcorona113 @swiftspaperings @gia-kerks @mggstyles

[mxndoscyarika]

Red Sunsets (Javier Peña x Chinese!Reader) | Chapter 10: Al Fín Se Hablan

Author’s note: I’m still here! I’m soooo sorry this took so long, I know we’re close to the end but school and applications took up all my energy 😭 Thankfully, I have a writing class this quarter that’s been helping to keep me inspired! Hope you guys like this one, it’s not much but it’s cute 😘

Summary: Family fights, grudges, and determination. Those three things defined your journey as you navigated through the workings of the DEA. Getting in was hard, and catching Escobar was even harder. You joined Javier Peña and Steve Murphy in the hunt for Escobar, forming bonds and life lessons along the way.

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

Red Sunsets masterlist

Warning(s): smoking, discussion of marriage 👀, one(1) vaguely sexual innuendo

You sighed and rubbed your face, trying to rid yourself of the haziness that came with staring at pages of small text. You lifted your face from your hands as a steaming mug of coffee was set onto your desk. It was made just how you liked it, and you knew exactly who was next to you. “Thanks, Javi.”

“Of course, hermosa,” he rasped. You smiled as he rubbed your back and kissed the top of your head. “How are things coming along?” “They’re not,” you lamented. “Nothing makes sense and I haven’t been able to make even the dumbest connections.”

“I can take a look at them in a few minutes,” he soothed, nodding at the typewriter on his desk. “Just let me finish something up for Messina.”

“Okay,” you sighed, pouting at him. You pulled him down so you could press your lips to his, smiling at the familiar pressure. “Thanks, baby.”

Javi hummed softly and sat down at his desk. “Anything for you, mi amor.”

You two didn’t notice Steve’s slack-jawed expression as you went back to work, the rustle of papers and clicking of the typewriter filling the office space. Whorls of steam tickled your nose as you took a sip of coffee, the fruity notes lingering on your tongue. It was certainly watered down, but you appreciated the caffeine nonetheless.

“So were either of you going to tell me you got together,” Steve asked, looking between the two of you, “or was I supposed to find out myself after you two sucked face? When did this happen?”

Neither of you looked up from your work as you replied simultaneously, “A while ago.”

The blonde scoffed, set down his cigarette, and crossed his arms. “So you’re telling me that you’ve been together this whole time, and I never knew?”

“Yup,” Javi grunted, pulling the finished report from the typewriter and examining it for errors.

You rolled your eyes at his gruff reply. “We would’ve told you, but we haven’t had the chance. But I guess you know now, so there’s no need for that.”

“Wait, so you two are together?” Steve asked in disbelief.

Javi cringed at the volume. “Thanks for announcing it to the whole world, Murph.” He held out his hand for the folders, which you silently passed them to him.

“Oh, as if the entire embassy didn’t know you two had a thing for each other,” he scoffed, taking a drag from the smoking cigarette. Wagging his finger, he stated, “But this- this is a cause for celebration. Connie’s going to freak out when I tell her the news. How about a double-date tonight? Just the four of us getting some drinks.”

“I don’t mind as long as Javi comes.” Taking another sip of coffee, you silently begged for the caffeine to stamp out your growing headache.

“With you? Always,” Javi said, squinting at the small print. A lock of hair fell from its place, making you want to run your hands through his silky hair. But he was too far from your reach, and you didn’t feel like getting up from your chair. He didn’t notice Steve choking on air across from him.

---

Despite being a weeknight, the bar was fairly full. Music played softly as you searched for an open table or booth. The warm weight of Javi’s hand rested on your back as you rose to your tiptoes for a better view. You spotted Steve and Connie sitting towards the back, tucked away in a booth for four.

“I knew it!” Connie exclaimed when you arrived at the booth, slapping her husband’s arm.

“You knew what?” you teased, scooting across the seat. After work, you and Javi went home to change into more comfortable clothes. While Javi was content with simply changing his shirt, you slipped into a mid-length dress and some stylish slip-on shoes.

“That you two were together,” she said, pointing between you and Javi. “If you were trying to hide your relationship, you weren’t doing a very good job. Though I guess there’s something to be said for Steve not picking up on it earlier.”

“When you work with them every day, everything starts to look the same,” Steve scoffed. “They’ve been acting like this for months by now. Hell, they’re probably married and didn’t tell us.”

“That’s some fantastic detective work,” you said, sharing a look with Javi. He smiled softly and looked down at his drink, swirling the amber liquid. “But we’ve only been together for a couple weeks.”

Although you and he were officially in a relationship, you had quickly realized that not much changed. For some reason, part of you had expected grand gestures and declarations of love, but you also knew that wasn’t Javi.

No, your Javi expressed his love through small favors, gentle touches, and attention to detail. In many ways, it was all you ever wanted; someone who cared about you and would make you feel cherished in a world that was so busy.

Instead of waking up alone in a cold bed, you now woke to Javi pressing warm kisses on your shoulder and nuzzling along your neck. His stubble would scratch your skin as his soft lips worshipped your body, sweet murmurs of  “good morning” and “I love you” rumbling in his throat.

The mornings were always your favorite for that reason.

“So, what made you two take the plunge?” Connie asked, bringing you back to reality. You must’ve looked like a deer caught in headlights, because she shrugged sheepishly. “I’m just curious.”

“Why don’t you tell them?” you asked, nudging Javi’s arm.

He sighed softly and downed the rest of his drink before telling them what happened.

---

The city glowed beneath the overlook, the silhouettes of comunas like mountains during a sunset. You and Javi stood together by the edge. Although it wasn’t particularly cold, Javi gave you his leather jacket, draping it around your shoulders before pulling you into his arms.

It smelled like him, the scent bringing you back to the night of your first undercover mission. The difference was, you and Javi and Steve and Connie had gone to a bar not as DEA agents, but as couples.

A couple. No matter how much you’d wanted to be Javi’s, and for him to be yours, you still couldn’t quite fathom that he’d chosen you. You wondered how your family would react if they found out. Would they be happy that you finally found love, or would they disown you because you broke tradition?

Javi kissed the side of your head and murmured, “Come back to me, baby. What are you thinking about, mi amor?”

“You. Us.” You held his face in your hands and kissed him deeply, your lips molding together. “Te amo, Javi.”

He stilled, your lips brushing against each other. The soft rumble of his voice warmed you from the inside out. “Hm, you know, ‘te amo’ is normally only reserved for the love of your life, as in someone who you’d marry.”

“I know,” you replied, kissing him again. A soft groan escaped him as you wove  your fingers through his hair. “I didn’t stutter, did I?”

“No, you said it perfectly,” he said. In the faint light, you could see his eyes sparkling. They were dark, like the comfort of a bedroom. Like the warmth of coffee in the morning. Like the star-filled sky. You leaned into his hand as he cupped your cheek. His voice was velvet as he murmured, “Eres el amor de mi vida. Nunca imaginé que podría tener un amor como el que tenemos. But then you arrived, got off that plane, and blew us all away. You blew me away.”

You smiled and bit your lip, eyes burning with unshed tears. “You fell in love with me that early on?”

“It wasn’t hard,” he answered, kissing the tip of your nose. When you scoffed lightly, he pouted. “It’s true!”

You rolled your eyes. “Well we can’t both fall in love at the same time. That just makes us look like a couple of fools.”

He laughed softly. “It would, wouldn’t it?” He paused, then said your name softly. When you hummed for him to continue, he asked, “Do you ever think about settling down? Giving up on all this and going home to live your life?”

“Honestly,” you began, “more often than I’d like.”

The warmth of his lips against your temple made you smile as he asked, “Why is that?”

You let out a sigh. “There’s just always been that pressure for me to settle down, get married, and have some kids. And when I was younger, I fought against it. But now that I’m here with you….”

“Let me guess,” Javi started, a half smirk on his face. “You realized that men are pendejos and you’re better off alone?”

He grunted as you smacked his chest lightly. “No,” you objected. “I realized that all I needed was the right person to share my future with.”

“And who might that be?”

“I think you know who it is.”

Translations:

“Eres el amor de mi vida. Nunca imaginé que podría tener un amor como el que tenemos.” You are the love of my life. I never imagined that I could have a love like ours.

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[writer-k-pop]

The Captain (c.s.c) - Waning Crescent Hotel

Please read this (W.C.Hotel) if you this is the first post of this series that you see. Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of death Genre: Angst, Hotel Del Luna AU, Choose your own adventure, SVT x Fem! Reader Staff: Yong (Spirit General Manager) / Jiwoo (Human General Manager) / Soon Bok (Room Manager) / Mun Hee (Front Desk Receptionist) / Shin (Grim Reaper assigned to Waning Crescent) Word Count: Ending A - 4.9k / Ending B - 4.8k

W.C.Hotel | Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

"What do you mean you didn't know it was him?" I rise up from the table and stalk towards Mun Hee who stands in the garden entrance, his terror evident.

"He, his hair was different. A-and he had like uh stuff all over his face and, and." Mun Hee stutters out. "I didn't realize it was him!" He tries to reason with me.

"And it took you 10 days to realize it?" I question him as I pass him on my way out of the garden and away from my champagne.

"I didn't see him for ten days." Mun Hee defends himself, "I'm pretty sure he was locked in his room that entire time."

"You're dead if he only has a couple days left." I threaten him.

Mun Hee is taken aback, "Okay, A: I'm already dead. B: He has 12 days left."

My feet stop on a dime. "How many?" I ask, turning towards him, not believing what I had heard.

"12 left." Mun Hee says, "I remembered him cause when I read his palm, it said he had 22. Did you know that's the most I've ever seen?"

Twenty-two. A whole twenty two lives. I knew his soul would live to be wise but I hadn't guessed it would be 22 lives wise.

"So when I tell you I looked for him everyday cause I was curious and amazed, I really mean it." Mun Hee says with a nod of childlike sincerity, "And since no one can hide from me, I just kind of assumed he had locked himself in his room." He nods with a serious pout, "So I didn't know it was your Seungcheol until he FINALLY stepped out to go to the library. And then it hit me."

Soon Bok walks up to us, a bit surprised to see us here in the hallway.

"I thought you were in the garden?" She asks, looking between the two of us.

"I was." I reply, "But then Mun Hee tells me that Seungcheol has been checked in for the past 10 days and I have been clueless about it."

Soon Bok's eyes widen and she looks at Mun Hee, "You never told her? I told you to tell her!" She slaps his shoulder.

Mun Hee flinches when her hand makes contact with him, "I got distracted by other guests." He gives an excuse.

"Where did you end up placing him?" I ask, moving away from the whole Mun Hee not telling me topic.

Soon Bok doesn't even have to check her folder, "Room 88 with the nice view of the water."

I smile at her thoughtfulness, "Perfect."

I don't have the desire to return to the garden or the champagne so we continue to walk towards the hotel while Soon Bok updates me on a few hotel happenings. By the time she's finished, we've reached the bottom of the main staircase in the lobby and Soon Bok takes her leave soon after.

As we climb the stairs, Mun Hee opens his mouth to ask a question but I cut him off, already knowing what he's going to ask.

"No, you can not go bother him about his lives." I say and Mun Hee's body droops.

"But it's twenty two lives." He whines, "Twenty two!"

"And that's a lot of lives to remember." I explain to him, trying my best not to let my annoyance creep out.

"(y/n)." Mun Hee drags out my name in a plead.

Closing my eyes, I take a steadying breath, "Fine," Mun Hee smiles brightly and his body straightens, "BUT! Only if he allows you to ask questions. You must ask him if it's okay first, you got it?" I point a finger at him.

Mun Hee quickly nods. His smile is so wide that his eyes begin to shut.

I can't help but laugh at his excitement. "Go back to your post now." I tell him and wave him away. Mun Hee quickly retreats back down the stairs and happily skips to the front desk.

I make my way up the rest of the stairs and once I reach the top, I lean against the railing of the balcony. I watch as Mun Hee smiles and waves to all the guests in the lobby. For a moment, a loving smile appears on my face but it's quickly wiped away as Mun Hee nearly runs into one of the very large and very breakable flower vases.

"Clutz." I mutter to myself and turn away.

~The 22nd Day~

My wrists burn against the ropes that tightly bind them together behind my back. My knees press heavily against the wooden floor boards, trying to keep my balance as the waves rock our boat to and fro. The sharp tip of a blade rests between my shoulder blades.

Glancing to my right, Seungcheol sits in a similar position but his forehead is bleeding from where he was hit. The red blood drips down the side of his face and stains the shirt that I had bought him before we set sail.

"This ship is ours now." Our captor says, cockily as he stands a few feet in front of us.

"Take it." Seungcheol says, narrowing his eyes. "It's yours, just leave us alone."

'He's bargaining.' I think to myself, 'Why would he bargain his beloved boat?'

"Bargaining, I see." Our captor smiles, "I thought you'd put up more of fight for the boat you've had for almost your entire life."

"You've done your research." Seungcheol says, pretending to be impressed.

"Every good pirate needs to do his research, no?" Our capture banters back.

"I don't need to put up a fight." Seungcheol says through gritted teeth. "I don't need the boat."

Our captor tips his head up and taps his chin, "Now, what would a reputable boat captain need more than his boat? Any ideas, boys?" He looks to his men, who all laugh mischievously.

"A girl." One shouts from behind us.

"A girl!" Our captor claps his hands and my heart stops. "That's exactly right."

In a panic, I look over at Seungcheol who has the same panic written on his face. Seungcheol begins to fight against his restraints.

"Take the boat! Take anything but her." Seungcheol cries.

Our captor is unimpressed by Seungcheol's efforts and simply nods to the men behind me.

With ease, they grab my arms and lift me to my feet. Now, I begin to fight against their hold, though I go nowhere. Seungcheol fights harder but he's held back by the shoulders.

With a pounding heart, I continue to struggle but I'm carried towards the side of the boat.

"Please," Seungcheol begs with tears falling, "I can give you whatever you want. I, I have money. You can have my boat. Anything but her."

I feel my own cheeks become wet with tears but in the back of my mind, I know exactly why this is happening. And I hate myself for it.

"I want nothing." Our captor simply shrugs, Seungcheol's cries not affecting him at all, "Except for your pain." He finishes and pointedly looks at me. When his steely eyes meet mine, he smiles crookedly and the coldest shiver runs down my spine.

I divert my eyes to Seungcheol who is screaming and fighting against the men who hold him back. I try to catch my breath but before I have a chance to say anything, the two men lift me over the railing and drop me into the rushing water.

The cold water tightly wraps its fist around me and I fight to swim upwards but the current overpowers my efforts and drags me further below the surface. The necklace around my neck floats upwards and I'm reminded of who is above the water's surface. Not wanting to leave Seungcheol alone, I continue to fight against the current. Just when I think I've pulled myself out of the current's grasp, a strong force quite literally punches me in the stomach, sending me backwards into blackness.

My eyes snap open and I sit up in a panic. The only sounds are my heavy breathing and the echo of my pounding heart in my ears. Feeling the soft fabric that surrounds me, I realize I'm just in my bed and run a hand through my hair. My cheeks are wet with tears and I quickly wipe them away. Looking around, I squint as my blinds do a terrible job of keeping the sunlight out. The clock on my bedside table reads 1:24pm.

I groan and throw myself back onto the mattress. Subconsciously, I rub my wrist as the burning still lingers while I try to settle my racing heart. With sleep abandoning me in the middle of my nighttime, I give up the efforts and clamber out of bed. I walk out of my bedroom while slipping a light robe on.

My office is alight with the bright sunlight and I can see the dust particles floating around in the air as I descend the stairs from my connected bedroom. Immediately, a bottle of champagne on my desks greets me with its green melancholy. I quickly pick it up and raise it to my lips but frown when not even a drop falls from the bottle's mouth.

Slamming the bottle down, the collision echos into the still air.

'Don't drink so much out here.' Seungcheol's voice rings in my mind. 'We don't know if the next port will have any alcohol.' He says, followed by his chuckle.

I cover my ears and shake my head to get rid of the memory.

'Next year, I'll buy you the most expensive and best champagne that you will never be able to drink another kind.' Another memory surfaces and this time the shadow of his arms wraps around my waist.

With a scream of frustration, I grab the champagne bottle and chuck it. It hits an empty space on the wall and shatters into hundreds of pieces. As the pieces fall and tinkle against the floors, the fragments of Seungcheol's voice fade as well.

With a heavy heart, I let my feet wander wherever they please, too tired to fight my body's desire. The hallways are quiet and the sunlight warms up my skin, ridding it of the cold water memory.

When my feet stop, I'm standing at the base of the main staircase in the lobby. The place I landed and woke up at after I passed out in the water. I wrap my arms around myself as the feeling of cold water returns.

My senses return to the memory and I'm submerged in the past.

The coughing that raked through my chest. Yong and Jiwoo rushing towards me with Mun Hee and Soon Bok not far behind with multiple towels in their hands.

All of them wrapping me in the towels and drying me off. My struggle against them to get back to the living world. To get back to Seungcheol. My employees holding me in place. Yong bringing out a notecard.

The words of the note card burying my heart under 100 tons of concrete.

"Do it again, and we will not be so kind."

I had disobeyed the Gods' conditions and I had paid for it. As I move my heel over the spot, another memory surfaces.

'Heels are no good on a boat, (y/n).' Seungcheol had said, kneeling in front of me and placing my heel back on my foot, 'We need to buy you a pair of flatter shoes.'

'As long as I still look good and they don't look like trash.' I had said.

'I'll find the best ones for you.' Seungcheol promised with a wide smile.

Anger begins to bubble inside of me. I had it so good with Seungcheol. I was happy with him. So why did I disobey the Gods' order and ruin everything?

Why did I toss the note card that said 'Time to leave.' into the trash?

Why did I think I could run away from the Gods?

Why wasn't I thinking?

"Stupid." I exclaim, kicking the bottom stair. It causes a low throbbing in my foot but I ignore it, too frustrated to linger on it.

The doors to the front check in room creak open and a pair of dress shoes clicks against the tiles.

"Oh, (y/n)." Jiwoo's pace quickens slightly to reach me faster, "What are you doing awake?"

I cross my arms, erasing all traces of my painful memories from my face, "I could ask the same of you. You should still be in your home, getting sleep for tonight."

Jiwoo shrugs, unbothered by the fact that I answered his question with another question. "Well, I've been coming in early to make sure everything is in order for the next person who will take over for me once I leave." He gives me a small nudge with his shoulder, "Not just any spirit can slide right into the human manager's position."

I look down at my feet and smile. Out of his family line, Jiwoo's one of my favorites. Always thinking ahead and planning. Always willing to stand up to me when I'm moody. Plus he's always willing to drive around the living world and take me to eat yummy foods. He's a foodie.

"What will you do once I leave?" I wonder.

"Me?" Jiwoo scratches his neck, "You know, I haven't thought about it much. I've been pretty busy with the hotel."

"What do you want to do?" I reword my question, genuinely curious.

Jiwoo shrugs, "Travel maybe. I've heard so many stories from guests here about the beauties of the world and the history so it might be fun to experience them first hand."

I nod, "That sounds like a solid plan." I gather up my skirt and turn towards the elevators. "Call me when he's ready." I tell him before walking away without another word.

I spend the next many hours laying on the couch. Then sitting at my desk. Then cleaning the broken glass. Then sort of listening to Yong when she brings me the daily debrief. Then sitting on the stairs. Then staring out the window. Then dusting off my picture frames. Then back to the window.

The moon sits high in the sky and I have an unobstructed view of it as the cloudless sky passes by.

A small, timid knock barely makes it to my ears.

"Come in." I call out to whoever's on the other side.

The door opens and Soon Bok shuffles into my office. I smile at her, finding her change in demeanor amusing. Out in the hotel, she's strict and not to be messed with. But in here, she's nervous and unsure. "It's been quite a while since you've visited me up here, Soon Bok."

Soon Bok nervously nods, "I think the last time I was in here was the first time too."

"What do you need?" I ask, hoping to end her nerve wracking visit.

"Jiwoo asked me to tell you that he's taking Seungcheol to the garden." She points her thumb behind her.

I nod, "Alright I'll be there in a second. You can go."

She bows and takes her leave quickly.

I walk over to my desk and press a hidden lever that opens a hidden compartment. From the compartment I pull out a jewelry box that I haven't touched in ages. Opening it, I'm greeted with shine of the emerald necklace Seungcheol bought me. The one I was wearing when I was thrown overboard.

The one I had to beg the Gods to let me keep.

I close the lid and with the box in hand, I walk out of my office. The hotel buzzes with the midnight hustle and bustle but I ignore all of it and press on towards my destination.

When I enter the final hallway, I speed up a bit, the tears already filling my eyes. I enter the garden and my feet skid to a stop.

He's not here.

But then he walks out from behind the tree, a hand running along its truck, his eyes inspecting the branches that spread out.

My heart lodges in my throat as he turns towards me. His eyes are still soft and full of emotion. His cheeks are still high and full. His lips are still set in the perfect shape. The only thing that causes me some pain are the shadows of scars that scatter his face and neck. The places where he'd been seriously injured in past lives.

I eye his forehead and there sits the shadow of the scar I caused.

"(y/n)." Seungcheol whispers my name but I hear it like he whispered it into my ear.

I set the jewelry box on the bench and cover my mouth with my hand, choking back a sob. In two seconds flat, he has me wrapped up in a tight embrace and my tears fall.

"You're here." He says, stroking my hair, "I'm here. I'm here."

Seungcheol holds me as I sob, hundreds of years of guilt finally ripping out of my body. Even as my sobs subside, he still holds tightly onto me.

"So this is where we finally get to meet again." Seungcheol mutters as I sniffle. "When my soul is at its end in the living world."

I sniffle and focus on steadying my breath.

"I lived a lot of lives, did you know that?" He continues to talk.

I nod, still sniffling but not as frequently.

"A whole twenty two." I can hear the smile on his lips, "I'd say that's pretty good for a measly ship captain."

I smile, his attempt to make me laugh a success.

"You weren't measly." I counter.

Seungcheol pulls away, "I couldn't even buy you a home."

I shake my head, "I didn't need a home."

He smiles and dries my cheeks. "I know but still."

I release myself from him and sit on the bench, staring at the tree. Seungcheol follows suit without taking his eyes off of me.

"What happened that da-?" He wonders, scooting closer and his hand runs into the jewelry box. "What's this?"

"Open it." I instruct him and he does so.

Seungcheol's eyes widen as the necklace comes into view, "I thought the sea took this."

I shake my head, "Those pirates weren't from this world." I answer his original question of what happened that day on the sea, "I'm sure someone's explained my punishment to you?" I check with him.

"Yong did this morning over breakfast." Seungcheol nods. "It seemed fitting until I realized they controlled essentially when it ended."

"We're talking about thirteen souls. In my world, killing a single soul is like murdering at least 10 people in the living world." I smile that he sort of took my side. "Anyway, a week before it all happened, the Gods had delivered a note saying it was time to leave you." I continue on with the story, "But I had decided that I was going to stay with you because you made me that happy. So I threw the note away and thought I could run away so the Gods wouldn't catch us." I tuck my hands underneath my legs and lower my gaze to the floor. "I was reckless thinking that they wouldn't find us. But they did. And they forced me to leave. When they dropped me in the sea, I tried to return to the surface, I swear I tried, but they used the currents to pull me back to the hotel."

Seungcheol leans against the back of the bench in awe.

"Because I had disobeyed their conditions for my punishment, I was forced out and caused you all the more pain." I say in a roundabout apology. "I never did it again."

"How do you still have the necklace?" Seungcheol asks, glancing down at the open jewelry box in his lap.

"I begged." I tell him, "I pleaded with the Gods to let me keep it even though I'd disobeyed them."

Seungcheol lifts the necklace out of the box and my eyes follow it. "Thank goodness they did because I spent way too long searching for this for it to be tossed to the side because a girl was in love." Without asking me to move, he places the necklace back on my neck and clasps it closed. "There. Back where it belongs."

My hand instinctively goes to my neck to feel the metals and gems again.

"After you were," Seungcheol clears his throat, unable to say the exact words, "I was immediately knocked unconscious. And when I woke up, I was laying on deck, my hands free of their binds. My men scattered around deck. The boat was docked in a port and had no evidence that any pirates had boarded. Now that you're saying they weren't from my world, it makes sense how they disappeared so quickly."

He runs a hand through his hair, still fluffy and full. "We grieved after that. I grieved. Of course thinking you'd died. And you know, did the whole sha-bang and everything."

I smile as love for this man swells in my chest. I had never once 'died' in front of a love so Seungcheol's the only one who held a funeral for me.

"What did you do after?" I asked, wanting to keep the conversations going, mainly so I could listen to him talk. Like how we used to spend days in the sun, him telling me stories of his previous travels while his small crew manned the ship.  

"I continued shipping goods from port to port with the crew." Seungcheol recalls, "Nothing exciting."

I rolled my eyes, his consistent I'm-not-really-that-interesting jab still present. "You never once met someone interesting?"

Seungcheol scrunches his nose in thought, "I mean, once met a young man named Samuel. Real spunky kid. He had run away from home and was looking for a job."

Hoshi's Samuel? I wonder. Did he keep the same name in a different life?

"We gave him one and he was the hardest working kid. Always helping out around the boat, always wanting to learn about every aspect of running a boat." Seungcheol smiles at the memory, "He was also really athletic and flexible. Sometimes made me wonder if he was a dancer."

My ears perk up immediately, "Maybe in one of his lives?" I suggest.

"That would make sense." Seungcheol agreed, "Samuel was with us for about five years or so before some girl swept him off his feet. Literally." He whispers into my ear with a giggle. "But he won't tell you it that way."

I laugh. "What about Yeon Woo?" I ask remembering some of his crews' names.

"Yeon Woo?" Seungcheol says with some surprise that I remember his name. "Yeon Woo stayed with me for a while. He finally married the girl he had been with for ages. The one with glasses.” He adds for my benefit, “It sounds so silly now, but on the morning of his wedding, he went down to the water, poured two cups of alcohol, set one at the water's edge, and just sat there."

"For me?" I ask, eyes large, touched at Yeon Woo's affection.

Seungcheol nods, "For you." He confirms.

Yeon Woo had been Seungcheol's right hand man and quickly became one of my closest friends. I'm sure he took my 'leave' as hard as Seungcheol.

"He was always such a softie." I lean on his shoulder and loop my arms around his.

"Who else?" Seungcheol wondered, "Oh, Ren!" He lists off the next member of his crew and proceeded to tell me stories he thought were memorable.

We went through all the members of his 5 man crew. Then we diverged into his life and what he went off to do.

He never married though he had a long list of attempts. He says it was cause all the potentials had wanted to move inland but he wanted to stay on the water. We chat about the different places he thought were remotely interesting and about the time he tried to eat a live octopus but chickened out when it stuck to the inside of his cheek. He had to pull it out with both hands.

I laugh when I hear the story. The image of Seungcheol struggling with a tiny octopus tentacle from his mouth being just too funny.

Seungcheol keeps me laughing, constantly telling me how much he loves the sound of my laughter. Even as the sun dips low in the western sky, we can't seem to stop giggling.

As our laughter dies down, Seungcheol stares into the sun and sighs.

"So, now it's my turn, huh." He mutters thoughtfully.

I look at him confused for a second before the setting sun closes the lid on my bliss. "We could-"

"We are not disobeying the Gods again." Seungcheol cuts me off before I could even finish, "You did it once and look how that turned out. I'm not letting you do it again."

I pout and he nuzzles his nose into my hair.

"We're going to do it right this time." He mumbles.

"This way is sucky." I pout and Seungcheol chuckles.

"Come on." He whispers and places a kiss on my head before helping me up to my feet along with himself.

"Are you not sad that you're leaving me?" I wonder as I search his eyes for even a hint of sadness.

Seungcheol smiles softly, "I am but then I see those." He nods towards the chrysanthemums sitting at the base of the tree, "And they remind me that you have others to wait for. And they love you as much as I do." He grabs my hand tightly, "So in reality, I'm quite happy that you were loved so much."

I smile as his words slowly seep in. 13 loves is a lot. Not every soul spends all their lives loving a person so one could say I am pretty fortunate in that aspect. Though the way I encountered this love fortune was not fortunate.

Seungcheol turns and I let him lead me out of the garden. On our way we run into Mun Hee who just happened to be sweeping around the doorway for transfers.

"Just one more question." Mun Hee quickly says before I can even open my clenched jaw.

Seungcheol chuckles, loving my employee. "Alright, one more."

Mun Hee smiles brightly, "What was (y/n) like?" He asks, glancing at me.

I relax my shoulders and roll my eyes. Of course he would want to know what I was like. Was I the same? Was I somehow vastly different?

"Weren't you around?" Seungcheol questions.

Mun Hee readjusts his posture, "She's different when she's not inside the hotel. In here, she's... her." He says as if he's obscenely offended that I would change personalities.

I scrunch my face at him in annoyance as Seungcheol answers.

"She was... herself." He finishes, looking over at me and squeezing my hand.

I smile and we walk around Mun Hee, continuing towards the awaiting car.

"I like him." Seungcheol comments with a glance back, "You should keep him for a while."

"I have to keep him. He's assigned to work here." I inform him and I step from the firm concrete to the soft dirt path.

"You'll be okay here?" Seungcheol asks as we step closer to the car.

I nod, tears already lining my eyes. "I think so."

"You won't mourn for me for too long?" He asks and meets my gaze. His eyes sad but tearless, wanting to be strong for me who still has time left.

I shake my head, not trusting my voice to be stable.

"And you'll tell the next fella that I say thank you?" He continues.

"For what?" I stutter out.

"For loving you just as much as I did." Seungcheol says and a tear slips down my cheek. But before it ever reaches my chin, he wipes it away with his thumb.

I nod and wordlessly, Seungcheol lowers his lips down to meet mine. The warmth of the kiss wipes away all traces of the cold memories and my senses are filled with just him. When he pulls away, I have to fight the urge to pull him back. Partly because Shin is watching but also because Seungcheol's holding my arms to my sides, as if he is already guessing I would try.

He presses a final kiss to my forehead and I close my eyes, trying to memorize every detail of the moment. How his lips are pressed firmly to my skin. How his hands tighten ever so slightly around my arms. How he's close enough that I can hear the echo of his heart beat, beating strong and proud.

I keep my eyes close as he pulls away and releases my arms. I only open them when he steps away and towards the car.

Shin gives Seungcheol a curt nod, holding the door open for him. Seungcheol returns the nod and slides into the car without another glance back. But I'm grateful for it, because if he did turn around, I wouldn't have stayed still.

With a hand gripping my necklace, I watch with fresh tears as the car drives forward and disappears into the fog.

I don't bother to wipe away the tears the same way I don't bother to acknowledge the fact that I'm one love closer to ending my punishment. Or the fact that back in my garden, one chrysanthemum sinks to the ground as its life leaves and follows Seungcheol.

I know I'll mourn his leaving for days. But it's something I need to do alone. So I turn back towards the hotel and walk inside to allow myself to grieve. Then wait for the others to arrive.

Return to the Navigation Page (Waning Crescent Hotel) to choose the next guest.

"So this time, I'm leaving with you?" Seungcheol asks the air while staring into the overly bright sunset.

I nod, "This time we do it together. And not against our will."

Seungcheol chuckles, "Sometimes I think that we laugh too much."

I stand up, hands on my hips, "I can erase all laughter if you want?" I raise an eyebrow as he also rises to his feet, shaking his head.

"Nope, laughing is good." Seungcheol says and grabs my hand. "Are you ready to say goodbye to your staff?"

My heart suddenly feels heavier as I remember that I'm leaving for good. "No. But I have to." I say and hold my head up.

"We'll do it together." He reminds me as we walk out of the garden.

We walk hand in hand to the lobby where Yong, Mun Hee, Soon Bok, and Jiwoo stand solemnly.

"So this is it?" Mun Hee asks with tears in his eyes. "This is the day you leave us?"

I wrap him up in a hug, only a tiny bit annoyed that he's being so sappy. "Maybe I'll get punished again and be back here by the end of the year." I try to joke but Mun Hee abruptly pushes back from me.

"Don't you dare say that. You better not return here." He says angrily through his tears.

I chuckle, "I won't come back. I promise."

Turning to Soon Bok, I thank her for her service and her amazing work. Something I never did and should've done more.

Next onto Jiwoo. I also thank him for his and his entire family's service then I unclip the bracelet that has held him to this place.

"When you leave today, you won't be able to find this place again." I inform him, "I hope that you'll be able to go and live your life happily."

Jiwoo nods, "Thank you for letting me work with you. I won't ever forget you."

I smile sadly, "You will. But thank you."

Finally I reach Yong who is sniffling and trying so very hard not cry.

"You'd think after all these years of waiting that I'd be prepared for this day." She says through sniffles.

"Thank you, Yong." I rests my hands on her shoulders, "For everything. Thank you."

With lips pursed together, she leans forward and wraps me in an unexpected hug. But I soon wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tightly.

We pull apart after a couple seconds and I wipe the few tears that have escaped from her eyes.

"Keep this hotel running beautifully." I tell her before Seungcheol grabs my hand again.

With final waves of goodbye, Seungcheol and I walk out to the foggy forest that will take us to our resting place.

At the edge of the forest, Shin stands next to an idling car, a somber look on his face.

"(y/n)." He says when we reach him, "It has been an honor working with you. I wish you both a peaceful rest." Shin bows his head and I pat his arm.

"The honor was mine." I tell him with a smile. Now the tears start to line my eyes as the realization fully sets in.

I'm free. I served my years of punishment and now I'm free to let my soul rest.

I turn back towards the hotel and look up to the top where the rooftop patio is outlined with bright string lights. Then to the mid floors where random room lights are turned on, some guests staying in while others opting to experience the hotel's many services. Then to grand base where guests would be milling around, waiting their turns to leave this world.

"(y/n)?" Seungcheol softly asks pulling my attention to where he sits just inside the car, "Are you ready?"

I take one last quick look at the hotel before turning away from it. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's go."

I lower myself into the car and Shin securely closes the door after I am completely inside. As the car begins to drive forward, Seungcheol securely grabs my hand and I let his warmth guide me towards our final destination.

In the garden, the final chrysanthemum withers and dies so that no more stand at the base of the bare tree.

[charlettebffxiv]

Prompt #8 Adroit

Charlette had not been down in the tunnels beneath the library in a long time. She had almost forgotten how cold the long, stone-tiled hallways of the Archives could be. Despite it being late into the summer season, she already felt the desire to pull her shawl tighter around her shoulders. It was strange to be down here and out of uniform, like she was sneaking into a place forbidden to her. But by now she knew these hallways almost as well as she did the roads and alleys of Willow’s Heart itself. Besides she had permission, how else was she going to deliver the reports Harriette had ordered her to cover? The stack of papers sat neatly in a leather folder held under one arm, the smooth surface feeling a little at odds with the rough-hewn walls and floors of stone that surrounded her. The thick heels of her sandals clacked against them with each step, announcing someone’s approach to anyone sitting yalms away, likely studying or researching the things they had found on their missions. Door after door passed her by, each one containing untold aetherical wonders. There is where the lines were drawn for her. She could enter Harriette, Emille and Aemerics offices when given an appointment, and nowhere else. It was a little ridiculous, since she had already been inside most of the rooms, hells she had helped fill some of them too. But, then again, she was supposed to be marked as ‘potentially untrustworthy��. So it stood to reason.

Harriette’s office stood at the furthest end of the first hallway you stepped into when entering the underground level. A large, dark oak door that had a bouquet of flowers carved into it, and the words ‘Head Librarian’ cut just above them. She always wondered if Harriette had that door designed herself, or if it was always like this. It was oddly fitting, considering how much she loved the Botanical aberrations they brought back or reported on. But that was a question for another sun, Charlette rapped her knuckles against the thick wood, and a muffled voice answered.

“Come in! It’s open! Ah, Charlette!” Harriette stood up from the piece of writing she had been scribbling through to walk around her wide, messy desk and right up to Charlette. Of the three current leaders of the Archive and its Order, Harriette was the one least concerned with decorum and proprietary as dictated by hierarchy. The portly woman placed her hands on Charlette’s upper arms, gave them a welcoming squeeze, then pulled her into a hug. “Ah! It’s so good to have you down here again! Goodness me, I could tell it was you minutes before you arrived. No one has quite such a wide gait that lands with such consistent volume. No thumps and thuds with you, just tips and taps. Come along, sit down, I’ve just made some lemon tea, help yourself to a biscuit if you like as well.” Harriette hurried Charlette over to a chair, all but pushing her down into it. A steaming cup of citrus-smelling tea was sat in front of her before she could refuse, and a tin of biscuits was opened and held out. Charlette was not going to say no to one of Mrs. Nilsen’s shortbread. “Thank you Head Librarian. It’s nice to be back, in a way. I quite enjoy the coolness of the Archives, compared to how sweltering it can be up there.” Harriette was already back behind her desk, only a short distance between the two of them. Whatever she had been working on was hastily stacked and set aside on a precarious looking pile of paperwork. But she paid Charlette full attention as she went, ever the multi-tasker despite how scattered she always looked. Red cheeked with salt-and-pepper flecked hair that was curled, big, and messy. The shock of green though in her eyes let anyone know the infinitely curious woman was focused on them. “I know! I feel like a burrowing badger sometimes, all I want to do is stay down here and remain cool and quiet within my den. But then I do miss the rain when it comes, and I love that smell.” Charlette nodded along, the two seeing eye-to-eye on a fair few things really. Though Charlette would never have been caught dead with an office as chaotic as Harriette’s. If she had ever had one herself. “But it can’t all be bad up there, hmm? You’ve been under Bobocufu’s care, you must be learning a wonderful amount of new and interesting things! And you get far more time inside her Greenhouse too. I wish I had more time for it, she’s planted such interesting and beautiful specimens there. I’ve had the blooming of the corpse flowers on my calendar for almost three twelvemoons now! Excited to find out if they really do smell like carrion? I’ve no reason to doubt Bobocufu, but smelling it yourself is the best and only way to confirm something so fantastically strange.” Harriette took a quick sip of her tea, fingers tip-tapping on her cup. “Yes, the corpse flowers are due to bloom this twelvemoon aren’t they? Should be just as summer is ending, so any sun now. Not sure if I’m excited for the stench, but I am curious to experience it. They are some of the largest blooms we have in the Greenhouse. But, if I’m honest, I think I prefer the saplings most. They feel like an investment, especially when we go out and plant those that are ready for the orchid.” Harriette was watching Charlette, like she was the student having a meeting with her inspiring teacher. The woman really did need to make more time for herself. “We’re going to do another planting next moon. You should come along, I think you would enjoy it.” A chubby hand pressed thick, short fingers against Harriette’s cheek. “Oh, you are sweet Charlette. Tell you what, I’ll mark it on the calendar and do my best. It sounds like a good way to spend a sun, and maybe we can name a few of them too? Perhaps a nice, straight, grumpy looking one we can call Emille the Second?” She tittered into her hand, pulled out a long quill made from a gauche, colourful feather, and scribbled down a note that she stuck to the calendar hanging on the wall behind her. “Something to look forward to! But, onto why you’re actually here. Can’t always just be tea and fun ideas, hmm? How did the reports go?” Charlette pulled the folder out from under her arm, opening it out on the table and spreading the separate papers she had completed for Harriette. Each section was stacked in neat piles, titles and stamps making it clear which was which. Pride welled in Charlette, how can anyone accuse her of something bad, when being a stickler for the rules created such perfect little pieces of parchment? Harriette pulled her glasses up by the string that hung them around her neck, sliding them down her small, pointed nose. It magnified her eyes by triple, her pupils going from black-beetles to button sized. “Mhm! I missed your sense of order and neatness Charlette dear. Not even Aemeric is this careful with his formats, and as you can see I’ve no time to care at all! Hah!” she waved a hand at her office, almost knocking over one of the stacks of papers. It made a little well of anxiety start to stir in Charlette’s belly. “Thank you. But there’s no need to feel bad about your office. I’ve heard it said chaos is sometimes the kiss of the adroit, wherever they decide to be intelligent.” Another titter, the sound of it reminded Charlette of gossiping girls, it made her feel like one for just a moment. “That’s very nice of you to say. But I don’t feel bad at all! Why should I? It’s my office, and I know what is where. I have a system, you see. It’s called ‘remembering where I last put it’.” That titter became a cackle! Charlette braved a smile of her own “Keep laughing like that, Head Librarian, and we might suspect we’ve a Shroud witch in our midst.” Harriette shook her head, and waved a hand with a limp wrist at Charlette. “Please, don’t let Emille hear you say that. He would never let me hear the end of it. ‘I told you! You’re creating a less than professional image for the blah, blah, blah.’ I would have to convince him the town was under attack to get him to focus on something else.” And with a shake of her head, she picked up the first of Charlette’s reports, gave it a flick so they stood straight in her grip, and started to read. Assignment #4762: The Retrieval Section 1: The Ul’dah Situation As Reported by Order Guardian(Currently Suspended) Charlette Bellamy This was going to be a long, long evening. So Charlette poured herself another cup, took another piece of shortbread, and settled in. She was ready to make her case as soon as Harriet spoke “So, tell me about this Q’talhdi woman.”

[oh-so-scenarios]

ᴛʜᴇ sᴇʀᴇɴᴅɪᴘɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪɴɢs...♠| 10

⤖ 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, Aɴɢsᴛ, sᴍᴜᴛ, sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇ!ᴀᴜ,

A/N: WARNING: Weapons, Injuries, someone getting seriously injured. Blood. ....I played out this chapter in my head for weeks. This chapter and the next chapter that is coming....I’ve planned this out sooooo much. Outlined it differently a bunch off times. And here we are. 

**Unedited, please ignore any errors!

(Word Count: 7.34K)

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Y/N:

I strolled into the headquarters with Jennie trailing behind me. She had her phone pressed to her ear, her jaw clenched as she struggled to keep her tone light. She was having an argument with Jaehyun. Since I saw her last in the hospital where Hoseok hugged me unexpectedly, there was an argument. 

I didn’t feel that it was business to listen in or ask the specifics. Jennie is talkative if she wanted to tell me, she would. We were supposed to meet with Hoseok to review the previous surgeries and plan for the next ones. Looking at the tears bubbling in Jennie’s eyes, I don’t think she’ll be joining us. 

I walked over to our office, thinking of where I placed all the files that were recorded for the surgeries. My heels clicked as I rushed through the room, my eyes narrowing in on the thick black folder that sat on the counter. I was quick to grab it, flipping through the pages and only looking up as I heard the door being pushed open slowly.

Jennie walks in, showing me a strained smile while stepping to the other side of the room. The phone was still pressed to her ear and she turned her back to me. While my eyes lingered on her back, I noticed something out of the corner of my eyes. I didn’t notice it before, but there were two white jackets. 

I left the folder opened on the counter and moved towards the items I saw. I reached out and grabbed the first jacket, realizing they were a doctor's coat. They were new, and it was notable because the fabric was still a bit stiff. I ran my fingers over the jacket, a smile pulling at the corner. 

I had to bite my lip to suppress the giggle that wanted to leave my lips. Etched onto the jacket in green were the Doc followed by my initials. This had to be the work of Hoseok. The green words were a dead giveaway. 

How cute of him. I walked back over to the folder, closing it and holding it against my chest as I glanced at Jennie who now faced me, the angst slowly melting from her facial expression. I left the room without a word, walking back out to the once empty lobby area. Now I was seeing Seokjin at the large circular table with his laptop open in front of him. He wore a casual outfit, his grey tee matching with the loose grey sweater pants he wore. 

I haven’t really spoken to the guys in the past few days. Since my emotional breakdown in front of everyone, the place was always empty when Jennie and I came in. We only saw Jungkook when he would bring in patients and see them out. I also haven’t asked about the previous conversation or how things unfolded after Jennie and I left. 

“Hey, Y/n,” Jin said, not looking up from his computer screen. His hair was swept over his forehead and the bags under his eyes showed the results of a busy day. I stood there idly for a moment, wanting to ask where Hoseok was. Jungkook dropped us off, and I realized I left my phone in the car. I can’t even text Hoseok.

“Oh!” Jin suddenly exclaims, “Hoseok-ah said to go to his office and wait for him. He’s running late.” 

I was a bit confused, realizing that I’ve never been to Hoseok’s office at the headquarters. I’d have you go down that hallway. My mind didn’t gloss over the casual way he called Hoseok’s name.

“H-his office?” I muttered. Jin looks up at me from under his eyelashes and looks back to his computer before nodding.

“Yup, you can’t miss it. It has double doors.” He continues typing away at the keyboard, giving me a clear sign that the conversation was over. I slowly approached the further left hallway, a place I’ve never ventured. Not that I wasn’t curious but...that hallway is where the guys handle most of their business. I didn’t have any reason to go there. 

I walked slowly, my heels clicking softly, further showing my hesitation. I walked through the narrow hallway, the grey walls making the space more suffocating. I walked past a few doors, all different in color. A red door, a blue door, a green door, a purple door, and a black door. Each of them with a door handle accompanied by a keypad for a code and another circular lock about the keypad. There was a small rectangle on some of the doors. They seemed like glass peep squares, but the lights of each room were switched off.

I walked further down the hallway until I came to a pair of double doors. They were fine wood with a number pad on above the classical doorknob. The doors were slightly open, giving me a peek into the dimly lit room. I pushed the door opened further and stepped in, taking in a deep breath as I realized the room smelt like Hoseok. The room was dimly light and matched the overall feel of the hallway. 

The walls were a combination of a rich rosewood and lighter wood. It made the room feel cozy. The desk and the chairs were dark brown and they wonderfully complemented each other. The whole room just fit together well. I walked further in, setting the folder on the wide desk. 

I could lay on the desk and curl my body slightly. It was pretty large. I walked around the side of it, finally noticing the open MacBook that sat in front of the bigger spinning chair. Hoseok’s chair I’m guessing. I walked around the chair, my eyes drifting to the big bookcase displayed behind Hoseok’s seat. 

There were some interesting novels, making me wonder how often Hoseok reads them. I stopped at the notice of a black Bluetooth speaker sitting among the books. Is Hoseok a big fan of music? He hasn’t mentioned it much. I walked around to the other side of the chair, noticing the laptop again as it pinged and the keyboard began to light up. I looked away from it, reading the titles on the book spines. 

“Where’s Jennie?” Hoseok’s voice said as one of the double doors opened. I jumped at the sound of his voice, becoming used to the quiet that was surrounding me. I turned around to see a white plastic bag in his hand as he walked forward. His eyes were on everything but me, as he set the bags down from across the table.

“How was work?” He questioned softly, glancing down at the folder I set down. I nodded, keeping my eyes on him. 

“Work was good. Same old, same old.” I paused, “I think I’ve really befriended this one patient. She’s so funny that I visit her during my free time. What about you?” 

He shrugs, finally bringing his eyes up to look at me. I notice his eyes fall down my body, taking in the knee-length A-line skirt I wore and the dark green blouse. 

“Work was fine.” He answered simply, his eyes meeting mine again. Goosebumps rose over my skin, a small shiver running up and down my body. Only a heartless person wouldn’t be able to feel the tension and dare I say...chemistry that has been zipping between the two of us. It’s almost...overbearing. 

We’ve only gotten as far as kisses on the cheek and hugs but everything in me wants to be totally wrapped up in him. Emotionally, mentally and physically. I want to hug him, kiss him, and have him spill his heart out to me. 

It feels like my heart is calling out but I can’t be sure if he hears it. We were standing there staring at each other in silence, not sure what to do next. I watched him stretch the back of his neck while looking down at the floor. I took a step forward, walking around the wide table to the side he stood.

He stood next to the guests' chairs, awkwardly looking down at the food he brought. 

“I wasn’t sure if you had dinner.” He said slowly. It took a few short seconds to understand what he was saying. I looked down at the takeout on the table before staring at Hoseok again. 

“No, I haven’t!” I beamed, peering into the plastic bag and taking out the plastic to-go bowls. He brought food for me?

I started setting the food out quietly while he picked up the folder. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he flipped through, nodding in an approving manner. 

“Face the laptop this way.” He ordered, his attention still on the documents. I stretched my arms out, basically bending myself over the table to grab the laptop. I turned it to face us, seeing as we would be sitting beside each other rather than across from each other. 

I pushed it closer to Hoseok before grabbing one of the two guest seats and scooting it closer. I sat down and began eating, humming in joy as I used the plastic spoon to scoop the fried rice. 

Hoseok wordless took the other guest seat beside me and drew it in closer to the desk. 

“Ok, so I’ve decided it’s best to approve and schedule the operations for a month in advance. It saves time and helps things run smoother.” He explained. I nodded, agreeing as I took another spoon of rice. 

I was too focused on eating as Hoseok typed something into the laptop, clicking loudly on the mousepad before turning his attention to me.With my mouth full of rice, I glanced at him and the laptop. It was PDFs of different surgery requests. I quickly chewed my food, leaning forward to read the words on the dimly lit screen, 

We sat there doing this for a while, I would either accept or deny certain requests. Hoseok would sometimes ask why, and I’d give a simple answer. The patient's health isn’t stable enough, or I am not comfortable performing such an operation.

I was reviewing another request only to have my view obscured by Hoseok’s arm, his fair cologne washing over me. My brows furrowed as I watched him scoop a bit of the fried rice with an extra plastic fork he pulled from somewhere. 

I gawked at him as he stared back, putting the spoon of rice into his mouth. A slight chuckle left my lips as he smiled in return. 

“I paid for it,” He jeered, “So I believe I am entitled to a spoon or two.” 

I snickered at him and pushed the bowl of fried rice closer to him, so it was almost in-between us both. 

“Oh!” I perked up, “I saw the doctor’s coats. Thank you Hoseok, they’re cute.” 

He only nodded in acknowledgment, showing me that he was a bit embarrassed by my gratitude.

We worked in comfortable silence for a while, Hoseok trying to keep from laughing every time I grew picky with the operations I would accept. When we finally came to the last request, which I denied, I was reaching for the dumplings that were sitting there forgotten. I pushed the laptop further back, taking the lid off the food.

“They’re cold by now, but I’m sure they’re still good.” After passing the wooden pair of chopsticks to Hoseok and grabbing my own, we started eating as he pulled the laptop closer to him, and began doing some different types of work.

“I’m curious about your investment company,” I said moving to pick another dumpling. 

Hoseok raised an eyebrow but didn’t break his focus from the laptop screen. 

“So you fund different businesses?” 

“Basically. I give funding for a percentage of the company or project.” He answered before grabbing another dumpling. 

“I see, that’s very cool. I’m sure you make a lot of money that way.” 

“It started as a cover for this black market work, not wanting to draw too much attention to the money I have. However, it grew to be very successful and brought in billions of dollars every year, so it became my part-time job.”

“That is very cool.” I narrowed my eyes at him, “For someone who has so much money, I don’t see you showing it off much.” 

Hoseok shakes his head, “I don’t like to draw attention to myself. I spend my money on watches, sometimes suits, while the rest goes back into the business or into my work here.” 

I place an elbow on the desk, and hold my cheek in my hand, making sure to turn my body to face Hoseok.

“When was the last time you went on a vacation?”

He pauses, looking up at the ceiling while he thinks for a moment. 

“My family went on a trip when I was 13 years old.” He answered casually. My eyes widened, staring at the unphased Hoseok. 

“You’ve never taken a break from work?” I sounded so surprised that Hoseok stopped what he was doing to look at me.  I take my elbow off the table and sit upright in my chair.

“My whole life is my work.” He said simply. I shook my head before he could finish the sentence. That’s not good. That’s not good at all. 

“A man who wants for nothing yet doesn’t have anything.” He muttered to himself, a sad smile playing on his lips. 

“Hey!” I snapped at him in a disapproving tone, “You have the guys and you have me! How dare you say you don’t have anything.”  

I reached forward and placed a hand on his knee, surprised to not see his body tense up like it usually does. He just looks back to the laptop with a strained smile while I keep my hand on his knee in a sign of comfort. I try to change the conversation, not really minding that his attention as elsewhere. The closer I get with Hoseok, the easier it gets to read his mannerisms. 

He wears a poker face perfectly but his body language can be read like an open book. He looks ahead and focuses on something when he gets nervous, and I find it cute.

I leaned back in the seat, closing my eyes. I was ready to fall asleep and since Hoseok wasn’t dismissing my presence, I wasn’t going to leave. Being in the room with him was relaxing and comforting. My hand stayed placed on his knee, my thumb aimless rubbing circles.

“The talk with the guys went well?” My voice came out hoarse and drained of energy. Both of our chairs lacked armchairs, making it easy for my body to naturally lean towards Hoseok.

“It was awkward, tense and uncomfortable but things have felt easier since.” He answered simply and I knew he wasn’t going to push it anymore. I hummed in agreement, happy that things were working out for him. 

My head began to fall to the right, near Hoseok. I’d jerk awake, straighten my back and clearing my throat awkwardly. It was when I went through that motion for the 3rd time that I let my head fall onto Hoseok’s shoulder. My body relaxed and I melted into him, ignoring the slight huff of air he released in reaction. 

My eyes closed and my left arm moved to wrap around the front of Hoseok’s waist so I was practically clinging onto him. My face hid in his neck and his scent filled my nose in the same comforting way it always does. 

“How the hell am I supposed to get any work done?” His words held no hostility, and it followed a slight snicker as he continued to type away at his laptop. 

“Hey Hoseok,” I muttered after some long minutes of silence.

He hums in reply, not missing a beat and the sound vibrating through his chest. 

“Your mother…” My voice trailed off and the typing on the laptop stopped as well. The way Hoseok stiffen told me I was poking a sleeping bear.

“Did she pass away?” My voice is soft, not wanting to make any implications. He was silent for so long that I was ready to move away from him, worried that I’d offended him. His chest rose and fell slowly, and while my chest was basically pressed to his side, I could hear the hammering of his heart. 

Was it how close I was to him? My chin only needs to be tilted forward to brush the sensitive skin of his neck. With every word I spoke, my breath brushed his neck.

“She…” He pauses, “I don’t know where she is.” 

“Oh.” My response hung there in the hair, showing that his answer caused only more questions to sit in my brain. 

“My father and my mother were not soulmates. My mother found her soulmate at the peak of my father’s illness.” The atmosphere grows darker and Hoseok’s voice grows colder. He feels very far away at this moment, and though I can’t see his face, I know his expression lacks any emotion. 

“Your mother left you and your father for her soulmate?” I assumed, just to make sure I was understanding everything. I can feel Hoseok nod and a wave of understanding hit me. His mother left her whole family for her soulmate. Ugh, what a bad taste that is leaving in my mouth. So Hoseok lost his mother than lost his father. He was completely alone.

I opened my mouth to speak when Hoseok started again, the next works hitting me like a brick.

“Her soulmate was my father’s doctor….who worked at Seoul Sky hospital.” He says it as monotone as possible.  It was my turn to stiffen, and it seemed Hoseok was holding his breath while waiting for my response. 

Hoseok’s mother left him and his sick father for the doctor that was supposed to be helping his father. Hoseok’s soulmate ends up being me...a doctor at the same hospital that possibly scarred him for life. Young 16-year-old Hoseok, who has probably been carrying this baggage for some time. 

“Wow, life is ironic.” Was all I could get out. My voice comes out choked and Hoseok hisses in a playful manner.

“Don’t start crying.” He whines in a way I’ve never heard before.

“I’m not crying, I just understand why you disliked me so much.” 

“I wouldn’t say I ever disliked you, it’s just the terms in which I met you.” He speaks honestly, “The first few weeks weren’t me being angry at you, I was angry at the universe for sending me a soulmate that reminded me of how people so easily throw everything away for a soulmate. It reminded me too much of what my mother did.”

“I see,” I answered.

“Every time I saw you, it felt like you were taunting me.” 

“Do you still feel that way?” 

“No.” 

“Does that doctor still work at the hospital?” 

“He ran off somewhere with my mom. He doesn’t work there anymore.” 

I tighten my arm around him, “Did you become a chairman at the hospital in case they return? Your mother and her soulmate I mean.” 

“At first...yes. But, I found another reason to stick around so it’s not the only thing keeping me around,.” 

I nodded.

“My mother, before she left my father, told me that staying with a man who has a career like my father was...draining. In the beginning it was all good, love was enough. But it became a burden as life went on.” Hoseok took in a shaky breath, adjusting his body to relax into his seat more. 

“She told me someone in my father’s line of work would be better off alone. If I find my soulmate, I should run the other way for my soulmate’s sake.” My other arm slid behind Hoseok’s back, and my left arm rested on his chest now. 

This feels so natural. Being wrapped up in each other like this, laying here talking and just enjoying each other's company. It all fit together like a puzzle and everything else was an afterthought.

“That’s horrible, I’m so sorry.” 

“She has said worse...but I didn’t blame her. I didn’t blame her for telling me that but I still hold a lot of anger about leaving. I could see my mom wear down over the years. My dad was always coming home late, traveling for days without calling and prepping me to take over.” He sighs.

“That’s probably what she hated the most, the fact that this lifestyle was already being put on me. However, that doesn’t excuse her for leaving. It never will.”

“Of course,” I agree, “It can’t be easy to forgive for something like that.” 

We sit in silence again when another question is uttered from my lips, “So are you just counting down till the day I get tired and leave?” My tone was light but the slight tremor in my voice gives away how sad I am feeling.

When Hoseok doesn’t reply, I have gotten my answer.

“I would say I don’t work the same as my father. I try to do my work as quietly as possible, with as few complications as possible.”

“I can tell.”

“But I’ve kind of figured that you’re not going anywhere any time soon.” 

I smile widely at his words, “You’re damn right I’m not! You can’t get rid of me Hoseok!”

Hoseok feigns disappointment, “Damn it, I was hoping you’d get fed up and leave.” 

I cackle, moving back from him a bit, only for his arm to wrap around me and keep me from moving too far. 

“Oh stop it!” I poke fun at him, “stop with the hard to get games and admit you like me.” I giggle while playfully hitting his chest. He narrows his eyes at me and beams the brightest smile I have ever seen from Hoseok. 

“I like you, Y/n.” 

He was completely serious and I was frozen in my spot. The sudden confession left me completely shocked. My heart zoomed and my brain stopped working for a moment. It was like a brain error. I couldn’t even muster a reply. The smile that shined so brightly leaving me blinded and desensitized.

His smile fades slightly as there is a knock at the door before it opens. 

“Hoseok-ah!” Someone yelps, causing both of us to groan. Ugh, they’re so loud sometimes. I notice the way Hoseok doesn’t move to let go of me as the other 6 guys and Jennie make their way in. 

“Hyung--” Jimin’s voice stops short as he lays his eyes on us. The knowing grin spreads across his lips and he looks towards the others who soon come into view. 

“Hyung! Noona! You guys had food and didn’t share.” Jungkook pouts, looking towards the empty containers.  

“Why are you all in here causing noise?” Hoseok hisses, before closing his eyes to try to find some peace.

“Well, we didn’t mean to interrupt your little cuddle sessions we decided that we should do something for your birthday,” Jennie said.

I perked up, “Birthday?” I gasped, reviewing the date in my head, “Hoseok your birthday is in like 2 weeks!” 

His eyes are still closed as I look around at the others.

“We have to do something!” I exclaim, only making Hoseok groan again. 

“It’ll be something small, I promise!” I pinched his cheek quickly.

~!~

 “Are you sure?” I questioned, thinking I heard Hoseok wrong. Jennie grabbed onto my arm, hopping up and down.

“Let’s go!” She whined, gripping my arm tighter. It’s been about 3 days since I was last at the headquarters, wrapped up in Hoseok’s arms and feeling more comfortable than I’ve ever been. Right now I was standing in front of the guys as they prepared for another small mission. 

They’re head it 8Heart, a club not too far from here, to find this Seok impersonator. It’s a mission, not a party, not a night out. Yet it seems Jennie doesn’t see it that way. We left work earlier than usual and walked in to find the guys in the middle of planning. A bunch of things written on the whiteboard. It seems there are four men going around in a group, using Hoseok’s name to get what they want. 

They rob people and clubs with weapons, so I’d think it would be a dangerous night. It seems that Jennie doesn’t feel that way. She mentioned wanting to go clubbing while all the guys stood at the round table. 

Hoseok shrugged and went on explaining the whiteboard. I wasn’t paying much attention, reading a text from my mother. I need to remember to call her and my father. I haven’t even told them I found my soulmate. Knowing my mother, the moment I tell her, she’ll want to meet Hoseok. I don’t want to scare him off just yet, so I think I’ll avoid bringing up Hoseok.

Jennie suggested that we meet up with the guys at 8Heart for a good time. She said we’ve been working hard and need a night off. I was ready to object when Hoseok causally nods and says, “Okay, see you there.” 

So when I asked him if he was sure, he glanced at me and gave a small smile. My heart hummed at the action. Hoseok has been in such a good mood lately. The way he opened up to me last time we were together was...electrifying. 

I went home and stared up at the ceiling, replaying his small confession in my head over and over again,

“I like you, Y/n.” 

He is full of surprises.

“How fun!” Jennie squeaked, jiggling her car keys in her hand. Jennie decided to buy a car in the last 2 days. It makes me realize the Jennie comes from a different walk of life than I do. She paid for half of the car, and her parents covered the other half.

The 2020 Kia was pure white and its bright headlights made it stand out on the road. When she pulled into the parking lot at work, her gleeful prance was enough to see that she loved the attention.

“We will meet you guys there!” She grabbed my arm and started dragging me towards the door. Hoseok was too focused on what he was saying to notice our exit. We stopped by my place to grab a few of my things and sped over to Jennie’s condo.

I’ve been there a few times and was always blown away by her organizing skills. However, today I didn’t have time to take in her wonder decorating. 

“Get into the shower! I’ll pick out an outfit for you!” She was eager to go out, seeing as that’s not something we could regularly do with our schedules. I  grab one of her extra towels and make my way into the shower, thankfully that we stopped by my place to grab underwear for me. 

 I didn’t want to go to a cameo. I showered while wondering what Hoseok was liking in the clubbing scene. I’ve heard from the guys that Hoseok would go to clubs sometimes, often to find a companion for...one night. 

They reassured me that he doesn’t do such things often. I believed them, Hoseok doesn’t seem like an approachable guy. If I saw him at the club, I’d need liquid courage to even say hello.

But...Hoseok likes me. That handsome unapproachable man is my soulmate. The universe is kind. The universe is also mean. Hoseok opening up to me about his mother and just what she did, makes his animosity towards me in the start a bit understandable. 

What kind of woman can leave her dying husband and her son like that? Finding your soulmate is sweet but throwing away the life you already have for your soulmate? I don’t want to say what she did was okay, but just how strong can a soulmate connection be? 

I shut off the water, grabbing the towel and wrapping it around my body. I rushed out just in time for Jennie to rush in.

“I picked the cutest outfit for you! It’s on my bed!” She hollered before closing the bathroom door. I took a short walk down the hallway to her room. I walked to the big queen size bed, staring at the clothing she laid out. It was something simple and cute. A black t-shirt dress that had some graphic design on it. It was a-round neck but there was a slight V line dip in the middle of the round neck. There were black biker shorts and black knee-high boots. Of course, she picks out something like this for me.

I get dressed swiftly, borrowing her spray-on deodorant and also her lotion for my legs. When Jennie walked in, I was pulling on the biker shorts, standing up to really wiggle into them. They fight tight, but not to the point of discomfort.

The dress tee stopped just above my knees, and with the biker short underneath, I didn’t feel too exposed. I had some cleavage showing but it was tasteful.

 Jennie dressed quickly, while I put on light make up, not wanting to be caked up for such a place. My hair is left down and I sat down on the bed as Jennie got herself together. I held my phone in my hand, scrolling through Instagram and liking random pictures on my feed.

“Did you work out things with Jaehyun?” I asked in a monotone, glancing up at her for a short moment and returning to the pictures on my phone.

“Yeah, we worked it out,” She said while putting her lipstick on. She wore a red lace top, with black torn jeans and low bumps. She had her hair in that iconic low ponytail of her. I watched her put on her cherry red lipstick, striking a pose in her full body mirror on the other side of the room.

“Damn, we’re sexy.” She says before looking at me and blowing a kiss my way. I giggled at her, slipping the knee-high black boots on. Thankfully the heels of the boots were thick and square. They also weren’t too high, making it easier for me to walk. I tied the thin laces at the top of the boots to keep them tight around my legs. 

I grabbed some stud earrings that sat on Jennie’s dresser. I slid on the leather jacket and watched as Jennie zipped around her room, making sure she had everything. 

“You got your wallet?” She questioned. 

“It’s in your glove compartment,” I answered, heading out her bedroom.

“Wow Y/n, you look fine as hell. Hoseok is gonna lose it when he sees you.” She followed behind me, her keys jiggling as she walked. I smiled and looked over at her from over my shoulder. 

“You think?” 

She nods, “You two have been very close lately, I’m happy to see that.” I beamed as we walked through her living room and towards her front door. 

“I never told you but, he confessed that he liked me.” Jennie stops walking for a bit, her mouth falling into an O shape. 

I stopped with my hand on the doorknob. I turned to look at her and smiled widely. All I could do is nod as she stared in surprise. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah!” I exclaimed.

“That’s amazing! Wow, no wonder you two were all cuddle up. What a cute little work date.” She gestures towards the door and I open it, stepping out into the condo complex hallway.

“It wasn’t a date.” 

“Of course it was. You guys did some work, ate food and ended up cuddled together. So a date.” She nearly sang as she locked her door and turned to face me. 

“You both are such good matches. The universe doesn’t make mistakes, so no matter how different you and Hoseok seem, you still go together so well.” 

We both stroll down the hallway to the elevator. 

“Just like you and Jaehyun?” I say softly. 

She sighs as I press the button for the elevator, “Fights are a natural thing for couples to go through. Even though he grew up so different from me and we have different views on this. But damn, everything seems to work perfectly.”

“The universe doesn’t make mistakes,” I repeat her words as the elevator doors slide open.

The club was a bit further away than we intended but we ended up parking across the street from the place. The music was booming and vibrating the whole street. There was a thick line outside, and I groaned at the thought of standing for that long. The building said 8Heart in pink letters with purple and green lights shining all about. 

After parking the car, we stepped out, ignoring the few whistles from other men who were walking about the parking lot. My eyes scanned over the line of people, already eying us as we approached. Their aces weren’t friendly. The wait must have been long because they look fed up. 

As we got to the sidewalk, ready to go to the end of the line, a hand was on my wrist. I whipped around, ready to fight when I noticed Taehyung smiling widely at me.

“Hey!” I yelled. The music was already so loud from outside, “We thought we’d get here before you guys.” 

Taehyung leaned in close, putting his mouth near my ear, “We got dressed and left soon after you did. Hyung is already inside.” Taehyung keeps a hold on my wrist and I hold Jennie’s hand with my free hand. The bouncer lets us right in, getting a wave of anger from those waiting in line. The music was booming, and the bass who see deep, it felt like my heart was vibrating.

There were bodies moving and dances to all different beats of the song that played. We walked through the big dance area to a lounge looking area. There were a few bit areas with circular sofas and tables in the middle. Taehyung let go of my wrist once we were past the dancing floor. My eyes followed him, rather than walking after him. 

Jennie let go of my hand and walked past me, following Taehyung. My eyes moved ahead of Taehyung to find the area the guys were sitting in. I noticed Hoseok right away. 

Wow...what a handsome man. He was clearly catching everyone’s attention. All the guys were. Women were lingering around their lounge area. They were whispering to each other and stealing glances. Hoseok sat there with his hair parted on the side, and it gelled in such a way that showed his forehead. Jimin was saying something to him while his eyes scanned the club. 

Oh right...they’re here on a mission. 

I started towards them, noticing the dirty looks from the women that were eying the men. Just before I reached them, I caught Hoseok’s eyes. 

I smiled at him and he showed a small smile, clearly distracted by whatever Jimin was saying to him. I got a few hellos from the guys as I approached. Jennie already had a drink in her hand, swaying to the music in her seat. I felt a bit awkward, shuffling around to find a seat. Yoongi, who sat on Hoseok’s other side, scooted over. I showed him a smile before taking the seat beside Hoseok.

 I took off my leather jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. Jennie comes out of nowhere and grabs me a drink. I take the glass, taking a small sip. The drink was bitter, and I felt it burn in the back of my throat for a while. 

I down the rest of the glass, my face scrunching up after. I stretched forward and set the cup down on the table. I glanced over to see Hoseok looking my way. 

He leaned in close to my ear, his arm going around my back and his hand sliding up the side of my ass to rest on my waist. 

“I didn’t know you were such a drinker.” His breath tickled my ear and I leaned my body closer to him.

“Yeah, cause you saw me tipsy at the gala. I usually handle alcohol better than that.” I jeered. Our faces were close enough that I’d only have to turn a bit to catch the corner of his lips. Ugh, I want to kiss him. I should just do it. What’s the worst that could happen? 

“Do you want to dance?” I asked bravely. 

“I’m here for work, so I can’t. You don’t have to stay here beside me, you can go have fun.” 

I look around the club, the pounding music and the lights giving me a few previews of people dancing. I spot a few women shooting me glares and I think Hoseok catches it. I can barely make out the small chuckle from him.

“What will glaring at me do for them?” I muttered to Hoseok.

“It makes them feel better. I don’t come to these places often because women flock to me. Most want money, or want to sleep with me.” 

I nod understanding, “Well I don’t want your money so don’t worry.” 

Hoseok grins while raising his eyebrows, “So you want to sleep with me?” 

My eyes widen in horror, “No! No, I didn’t mean it like that! Not that I wouldn’t want to sleep with you! You’re a very fine man, and it’s natural to be attracted to you not only emotionally but physically--”

I am cut off by a familiar voice calling me through the loud music.

“Let’s dance!” Jennie says when I finally meet her eyes. Hoseok removes his arm from around me.

“Go have fun.” He said and turned his attention back to Jimin. I rose up from my seat, my face still burning from the conversation I just had with Hoseok. 

Jennie and I make our way to the dance floor, a smooth RnB track playing. It was a good time. The music kept going and Jennie and I kept dancing, having a good time. I was honestly feeling myself, and though there were a few guys who tried to dance with me but left me along after I gave a stern head shake, it was a wonderful time. 

The song changed to “Before I let You Go”, the Beyonce one, and I found my energy all over again. I had eyes closed and moved to the beat, moving my hips to the addictive beats singing along to the words. 

I can’t find Jennie, and I’m not sure where she has gone. I panic for a second when I spot her talking with this girl. Based on the hand gestures, they were going on about each other's outfits. I decided to head towards the bathroom really quick. I wandered around the club for a few minutes before I noticed the neon-lit sign that pointed out the bathroom.

I went into the ladies' bathroom and did my business while hovering over the toilet seat. The thought of the possible germs made my skin crawl.

I washed my hands and dried them quickly before heading to the door. As I got to the door, I decided to fix and straighten up my dress when I heard something from the narrow hallway outside the bathroom. 

“I heard they work for Seok.” A rough voice hissed. It was hard to hear them, and though the music was muffled, it still overpowering some of what they said.

“I know for sure! The way they’re watching everything, and I saw one of them sniffing around our meet-up spot! They’re onto us!” Another voice said.

“Who do you think is leading them? I say the one in the silk shirt. Let’s send Seok a message! He can’t squish us so easily! After this, everyone on the streets will believe we’re Seok! That faceless coward will never come out in the open.” The first voice said. 

I felt my body freeze and for a second, I stopped thinking. I waited a second before pushing the bathroom door open. I didn’t see anyone in the hallway. I’m sure they left. My pulse was throbbing to the point my vision was pulsing. My breathing grew heavy and I took off into the club. There was no way to get to the lounge without going through the dance floor so I pushed past people, ignoring the insults I heard. 

I have to tell Hoseok, I have to tell the guys! I don’t know what those men are planning but they’re targeting Hoseok! They think he works for Seok and not that he is Seok. I am scared of whatever lesson they want to teach.  

I rush through the hot and sticky bodies till I get to one of the opening points of the dance floor. Hoseok is standing now, looking down at his phone. He was no longer in the pit but stood on the higher floor. I feel relief but it’s short-lived. On my further left, against the wall of the dance floor, body almost concealed by a group of dancing girls was a man who’s angry gaze was focused on Hoseok. I watched as the man reached into his jacket, pulling out a silver handgun. It glinted in the lights as he held it down near his thigh. 

No. No. Oh god no. My body moved before I could think. My eyes focused on Hoseok and flickering to the man. Before I reached Hoseok, he looked up from his phone and smiled. I can’t be sure what my face looked like at the moment. I didn’t want the man to know I was onto him. I don’t know how many guys he had with him or what they’d do. But I was almost jogging to Hoseok. 

“Where’d you go? I was looking for you--” My body slammed against Hoseok and I wrapped my arms around him as if I was giving him a hug. At the same moment, I felt a burning pain in my side. My face scrunched up and my eyes began to water. I noticed I could just barely see over Hoseok’s shoulder. All the guys are rising to their feet in concern. 

It was my running. It was my sudden hug. They hadn’t realized. Hoseok hadn’t realized. 

He chuckled, “Did you miss me already?” He kept his arms at his side, chuckling at my action. The pain was growing throughout my side and I was losing strength in my body. My breathing became labored in Hoseok’s ear.

“Hoseok.” My voice was feeble and weak. My arms went slack and my body leaned on him. 

“Y/n?” Hoseok asked, finally wrapping his arms around me.  He was all that was holding me up. The next moment, a scream was heard. Though it drowned in the sound of the music, the horrified scream managed to pierce through. Had to be Jennie. Had to be. I was bleeding. Could she see it? I could definitely feel it. Where was she?

“Y-y/n?” Hoseok called again, this time his voice was trembling. There was something I’d never heard before. 

Fear. Hoseok was scared. 

His arms tighten around me, and I felt his hand touch the area in which the pain was greatest.

“Y-you’re bleeding? Y/n? Y/n!” My hearing was coming and going as my heart hammered in my ear. 

Was it my heart beating so wildly? Was it Hoseok’s heart?

Hoseok barked some orders in which I saw some blurred figures moving around us. I...I hope those bad guys don’t escape. 

“I’m...tired.” The words are broken as they leave my lips. Before I know it I am swept off my feet. I’m being carried by Hoseok. He’s running. Someone is speaking? Jennie? Hoseok? 

The music is going quiet. Everything is going quiet. Everything is going black.

“Please Y/n.” A voice pleaded, “Y/n? Stay awake for me.” 

Black. Everything turned black and everything grew quiet. 

It’s warm and it smells like Hoseok.

♠----♠----♠-----♠

 The next chapter is coming soon. I’m already halfway with the next chapter! My question for you, for this chapter! Do you think this chapter could have used more details? I didn’t feel like this chapter needed details. But I also feel like it lacked. 

like, reblog and comment! Let me know what you think! 

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Chapter 2

Summary: After being removed from his own time, Agent Daniel Sousa finds himself in 2020 lost, alone and vulnerable. You, an Avenger, find yourself face to face with Director Coulson and Agent May begging you to help another man out of time. This time however, instead of a super soldier, you meet an average man haunted by war and a time he once knew.   Pairings: Daniel Sousa x Reader.

Your eyes stared at the files on the coffee table, the SHIELD logo staring at you, almost mockingly, daring you to open them up and read them. To peer into the personal lives of the people from a past time. To peer into the personal file of the man sleeping soundlessly down the hall. Hands covering the large mug you held between your palms kept your hands somewhat distracted from twitching over the wanting to open them.

You hadn't done it with Steve, but that was because Steve was easy to read. He wasn't a spy like Daniel was. He couldn't hide behind his mask, his eyes and his demeanor gave him away far too easily.

However with Daniel, he seemed to be taking this all in his stride. Eager to learn new things, eager to reintroduce himself back into society. It had been 3 weeks and his demeanor hadn't even faltered under your watchful gaze. At night time, when he was sure you couldn't hear or see him; That was a completely different story.

You reached down and picked up your phone, placing your cup next to it, fully preparing to call the one person on this planet who would know what Daniel was dealing with, what emotions he was feeling; whether Steve Rogers answered his phone to you, that would be decided. It was the unbalanced walk and the steady sound of a walking stick against your wooden hallway that made you pause what you were doing. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a the familiar dark haired man standing in the doorway, somewhat frozen to the spot as his eyes glanced around before finally landing on you. A reassuring smile graced your face as you turned in your seat to fully face the former SHIELD agent who was clad in a white singlet and loose pajama pants, "Good morning. Sleep well?" You asked politely, placing your phone down on the coffee table and standing up to meet Daniel halfway into the living room.

"Yeah it was fine," He smiled hesitantly for a moment before pointing to the plush couch, "Do you mind if I-?"

You turned to look at the couch, "Oh no. Please make yourself at home. Anything you need help yourself too. This is pretty much your place as well now,"

"Thanks,".

You hovered slightly behind him as he fell into the couch, his walking stick sitting neatly next to him. You watched as his eyes lingered on the manila folders sitting on the oak coffee table before making their way up to the television. "How do you turn the television on again?" He asked, somewhat hesitantly.

A proper smile graced your face as you made your way to the table and picked up the remote to your TV, "This, is a remote control," You pointed to the large television sitting in the corner, "You find the sensor on the TV, which is located just on the bottom, point the remote, and press the red button," You pressed the red button and the screen lit up to show the familiar news channel you were watching the day before

You watched as an array of emotions crossed Daniel's eyes, his face never once giving away an inch; "How?"

"Please don't ask me that. All I know is I press a button on this and it does things to that,". A small smile crossed Daniel's face as he shook his head slightly and moved his head to look around at your other appliances you had in your home, "Two thousand and twenty. A long way from home," He murmured, his eyes finally landing back on yours.

You placed a hand on his arm and gave a tight smile before reaching over and grabbing the files that were sitting on the table and sitting them on your lap, "Phil came over yesterday when you were asleep. He dropped these off for you," You held them out to him, "Inside is files on your friends, your family, people you worked with; and what became of them over the years,"

His hands hovered over the files for a moment before looking up at you, "Peggy Carter?"

"She's in here too,"

"Thank you" He said sincerely as his hands grasped the folder.

You gave a short nod as you stood up, grabbing the empty coffee mug, to make your way over to the kitchenette. Behind you, you could hear the rustling of papers that you assumed Daniel was reading over. Two cups, three sugars between the both of them and two teaspoons of coffee and you waited patiently for your kettle to finish boiling. Last night was an unusually sleepless night for you, waking up every few hours to check on your new roommate, if he had woke up and if so, how he was coping. You noticed the blank look on his face, the same look Steve once wore. The one that didn't want to show you that he wasn't okay, but you knew that deep down, he was struggling. He was going to continue to struggle until he allowed himself to grieve and accept what he had lost.

"Was she happy?" You heard from behind you. You lifted your kettle off the stove and quickly turned to Daniel who's brown eyes looked deeply saddened. You could see the heartbreak flash across his face and it took you barely a second to figure out who he was talking about.

"In the end? It says here that she had a husband, a few kids," He swallowed the lump in his throat, "Was she happy in the end?"

A small smile crossed your face as you nodded. There's no mention of her husband's name in any files, nor her children; but any time she would speak of them you could hear the pride in her voice; the pure joy she had. "She was happy, I promise" You watched as he returned to the files and closed them, swallowing once again and placing them down on the coffee table.

"I regret not being able to say goodbye. If I just had one more day, an hour. I'd tell her that I lo-" His words were cut off by your front door swinging open and the familiar, bouncy haired brunette walked into the room.

You placed a hand on your hip and shook your head "Audrey we've talked about this. You can't just walk in without knocking,"

The younger woman's eyes widened as she saw Daniel sitting on the couch in his pyjamas. The other man looked increasingly uncomfortable as the silence grew. "Oh my-" She quickly cut herself off and threw her hands over her mouth, "Oh I'm so sorry. I didn't realise that you had company," She stumbled out, a large smile growing over her face.

A small sigh escaped your lips, "Audrey, this is my new roommate Daniel. He's from New Jersey, just bunking in until he gets settled in,"

Daniel gave a small smile as he held out his hand for the younger woman to shake, which she did almost immediately; "It's so so good, great, so great; to meet you Daniel,"

The pair of you raised an eyebrow at Audrey's star struck demeanor; "It's wonderful to meet you too Audrey," He replied. You noticed that he was beginning to feel somewhat uncomfortable by how long Audrey was shaking his hand so you cleared your throat to draw her attention to you.

"So what's up anyway? I don't expect you to barge in like this until at least Eleven," You picked up yours and Daniel's coffees and made your way into the living room, setting them carefully down on the table, nodding at Daniel's smile of thanks.

"Oh I forgot what month it was," You heard her mumble under her breath before a smile crossed her face, "You know what, don't stress. I'll ask Mrs. Maisel down the hall if she would be able to help me out. You just uh, settle in and get comfortable.," She backed towards the door, "It's was fantastic meeting you Daniel,"

"You too,"

"Bye Audrey," You smiled as you gave her a small wave that she greatly returned before exiting the apartment

"She's a bit odd isn't she?" You turned from the the mug in your hand to look at Daniel who was now staring at the door Audrey left through, "She's harmless. Moved in a few months after me. She's sweet enough," You moved over to Daniel who was watching you with curious eyes, "If she was a bad guy she would have a attacked me ages ago. So far she comes over and vents to me. It's nice, makes things less lonely," "There's something about her..." "Come on, instead of scrutinizing my neighbors, how about we learn the wonder that is Google Chrome," "Google?"

"You're gonna love it," You grinned as you picked up your phone and pulled open a streaming app.

<>

The strong breeze fell over your face as you pulled your jacket around your body tighter, the sun beamed down on your face as the familiar smell of hot cart food and coffee drifted through the air and into your nostrils. You side eyed Daniel who was easily keeping your pace through Central Park, his eyes taking all the views around him. The people, the cars; more importantly you knew that the fresh air might do him a bit better.

"So in Two Thousand and Twelve we found Captain Steve Rogers in the Arctic Circle, still in the plane he crashed, frozen," You continued from your previous conversation about major events of the past years he had missed, "Took him back to SHIELD and surprise surprise, he's alive," You watched Daniel's eyebrows raise into his hairline, "Theory has it it was his super soldier serum that preserved him for all those years. A week or so later I get a phone call talking about something called the Avengers Initiative. Now, I'm not a superhero, in fact, people kinda suck," A small laugh came from Daniel's mouth, "But Agent Coulson called in a favor from me to help Steve assimilate to the 21st century,"

Daniel nodded, "How did he cope with it?"

"He's currently on the run from One hundred and Ten countries,"

A confused look crossed over his face as he paused and turned to face you, his mouth slightly open, fully prepared to ask questions; however before he could you held up your hand to silence him, "It's such a long story. Short version, we screwed up, now the UN wants to put regulations on people with abnormal abilities,"

"Like Daisy?"

You rose an eyebrow, "No idea who that is. But if she has special abilities then yeah, like Daisy. Like me," You both continued to walk, "The problem with that is it stops the Avengers from going where they needed to be. The government decides where we need to be,"

"And that's a bad thing?"

A dry smile crossed your face, "If you ever met General Ross then you would understand why it's bad," You shook your head, "Anyway, they called them the Sokovian Accords. Some of The Avenger's agreed with them, others didn't. Those who did were put under restrictions, those who didn't had a warrant for their arrest set out for them,"

"I assume you agreed with them?"

"Why would you say that?"

"Well you're here. You're not looking over your shoulder,"

You nodded and held up your left arm, a strong silver band wrapped around it, "I didn't agree with it. But my friend made a good point, by signing it at least we can then negotiate it. We wouldn't have a chance if we went on the run,"

"What does your bracelet do?"

"Stop me from being able to use my abilities," You smiled.

"What are they?"

You pointed to the familiar green and white coffee shop in the distance, "Starbucks, possibly the best and worse coffee place you'll ever set foot in. Founded in 1971, the frappacino's are to die for,"

You missed the concerned look on Daniel's face as you started to walk towards the crosswalk. There was a reason why you didn't like telling people about your powers, the exact same reason why you were ashamed of them when you first met Agent Coulson. They were dangerous, even if you were able to somewhat control them, there were times when you couldn't, and you never knew what was real and what wasn't. It was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

You'd like to be able to keep them to yourself for just a little bit longer.

Tags iamwarrenspeacejcc04220pancakefancakebuckywhitewolfbarnesjutima55thegirlwithoutaname87@cleoccnalabarnes1031ovemesomepietrojoyfullyswimmingfaceastudyoftimeywimeystuffnikey-no-likey maraudersandco stanningissohardtruly-dionysus @space-helen @mackycat11 @stuckysdaughter @incorrectqus​  stanningissohard themistsofmyavalon

[lalahbug]

Healing - Levi x Reader

Fandom: Attack on Titan Word Count: 1813

My Masterlist

Warnings/disclaim: general Modern/Office-like AU. Mentions of depression, in case anyone is triggered/sensitive to this topic

Author’s Note: Originally posted on DeviantArt, under the same username, on 12/03/2016. Revamped/edited in 2020.

___ is a blank for your name/oc/whatever you prefer Written in 3rd person

Line/header is to separate paragraphs to indicate time skips, as Tumblr hates my formatting.

Story under cut

          Petra was picking papers off of ___’s desk, getting ready to fax them to her.

          “Morning, Levi.”

          “Morning Petra, where is  ___?”

          “She called off, but will work from home starting tomorrow.” Levi knitted his eyebrows together. “I know, she’s never called off. I don’t know what happened, though. She said she’d likely be gone all week and would like the form to start working from home. So if you have anything you need her to do, you can give me the paperwork so I can fax it to her.”

          “We were supposed to have accounts meeting tomorrow,” Levi grumbled.

          “I can give her a call, to see when she can reschedule.” Levi nodded before leaving Petra to her work.

          Levi sighed as he signed papers, that ___ should be looking over. Petra, his assistant, had let him know about how  ___ would like to work from home from now on. He could barely process the thoughts of it and why she didn’t want to come in anymore. It was an option that the company had, but she had never shown interest in it. What was with this sudden change, she didn’t even talk to him about it. Petra knocked at his door, he told her to enter.

          “Sir, ___ sent back all of her numbers and let you know everything about the accounts through email. She also wanted me to tell you. ‘The best accountant in your office isn’t going to leave, but I need to be alone for a bit. I apologize for any inconvenience.’  That’s all she had said, but it seems like she got her work done faster than usual. So I think this may be a good thing.” Petra smiled at Levi.

          “Get me her contact information.” She gave him a confused look. “I’m going to visit her on my way home. I need to know why she wants to change everything and I have some papers I need her to sign.”

          “Yes, sir.” Petra came back in a few moments with the information he requested. “I also wrote where her spare key is, in case she can’t hear you at the door.”

          “Why do you know where it is?”

          “I’ve had to go pick up some things from her when she had scheduled days off. She’s in her backyard a lot, so she doesn’t hear the door.” Levi clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Is there anything else that you may need Mr. Ackerman?” His assistant smiled at him.

          “Do you have any idea why she’s doing this?”

          “No, sir. Last we talked about anything personal; her family was healthy and her fiance was looking into a house for them.”

          “I didn’t know she was engaged.”

          “Oh yeah. She’s been with him for about 5 years.”

          “Oh,” Levi said with a bit of pain in his voice.

          “Sir, don’t feel bad! I know you flirted with her a lot, but I thought you knew she was taken. And you were just teasing her. Like you did in high school with a couple of girls.”

          “It makes sense why she always declined me.” Levi sighed and looked down at the papers on his desk.

          “She always said that she loved your persistence and confidence. That if she wasn’t taken, she would take up your offers for dates. Sir, I still think you should go check on her.”

          “You do?” Petra smiled and nodded.

          Levi pulled up to ___’s house, with his briefcase in hand, he went to knock on her door. After a few moments of silence, he knocked again. He sighed and moved the potted plant on her porch, removing a brick from the house, which was hollowed out with the spare key inside. He quickly unlocked the door and put the key back. Walking inside, he was a bit impressed by how she had styled home and more importantly how clean everything was.

          “Ms. ___?” Levi called out, which was answered with a bark and a husky came bounding around the corner to growl at him. “Hey, you must be Tobi.” He kneeled slightly and held out his hand for the dog to sniff him. Tobi seemed to approve as he turned to walk away from Levi, Levi followed him. 

          Tobi led Levi to the backyard, once ___ was in sight, Tobi ran over to the edge of the pool and started whining at ___. She was floating on her back in her bikini, which made Levi blush a bit. He had never seen her outside of suits or jeans.

          “Tobi! Shush, baby.” The dog whined louder. “I’ll drag you into the pool, don’t make me do it.” She giggled, Tobi yelped at her. “That’s it!” She laughed while fixing her into a standing position but froze when she saw Levi. Her face went aflame as if some tossed red paint on her face.

          “Mr. Ackerman!” She swam up to the edge of the pool, quickly walked over to her patio, and wrapped her towel around herself. Levi eyed her body the whole time, enjoying the view as she did so.

          “Hello,  Ms. ___. I need you to sign some papers, mainly some new accounts, and the form for you to start doing work from home.” Levi made his normal blank stare.

          “Oh, of course! Let me guide you to my office and I’ll change.” Levi gave her a curt nod and she walked back into the house, Tobi walking beside her the whole time. Almost to her office, Levi noticed a room, empty and messy, catching his attention, because of the mess inside.

          “What happened there?” ___ paused for a moment before walking over and closing the door. 

          “Please ignore that room.” Levi decided to ask after he got the signatures. She opened her office door. “Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll be a few moments.” Tobi followed after her as she left. Levi placed his briefcase on her desk and looked over to an accent piece that had pictures on it, noticing one face down. Curious, he walked over picking up the picture, to see ___ in a cute sundress and a guy hugging her from behind. It was very endearing but it only hurt his heart. ___ took the photo out of his hand.

          “Please do not touch my photos.” She placed it back down, making sure it was face down.

          “Why is that one picture face down?” Levi raised an eyebrow at her as she walked over to her desk and sat down.

          “Sir, you wanted me to sign papers. I do not want to share my personal life with you.” ___ stated coldly, it wasn’t the first time she told him this. This time was different, though, her eyes were sad. “Please sit, so we may get the papers done.”

          Levi walked over and opened his briefcase, handing her a folder. “These are our new accounts, I need them put into the accounting system.” She nodded before placing the folder in a basket. “Then this is the paper form we need to fill out for your transfer technically.”

          She took the paper from him, started filling it out, signing it at the bottom. Levi was looking over her shoulder, correcting her on the date. 

          “Sir, we’ve talked about this about 23 times. Personal space and not looking over my shoulder. I don’t like it.”

          “Well, you put down the wrong date so it’s a good thing I am. Also, you didn’t fill out the reason for the transfer.” He noticed she tensed up before writing, ‘personal/family issues.’

          “You need to sign this too.” She handed him her pen, he touched her hand and leaned over her to sign it. “Is there anything else?”

          “How do you want to go about doing our meetings from now on?” He eyed her, she was clearly still wearing her bikini but had a t-shirt and jeans over it.

          “We can email for the weekly meetings and we can do Skype or something for the monthly meetings.” She shrugged. “Do you have a better solution?” She turned in her chair to face him.

          “Yeah, just show up to the fucking office for work.”

          “I could probably come in for meetings.”

          “What the fuck is going on with you?”

          “Sir, I don’t want to let you into my personal life. Work and personal need to be separate.”

          Levi placed his hands on her chair, trapping her there. “___.” He stared into her eyes as she blushed from him saying her first name. “You are an important asset to me. I want to know why my main accountant is staying at home.” 

          “Because I’m depressed, I have been all this time. Now, I can’t function and pretend anymore. I want to be in this, I want to learn how to climb out and I can’t make myself get out my bed let alone go into the office. But I can do my work from my bed.”

          “What made everything go south so badly?”

          ___ teared up. “My fiance found someone else and left me. I’m alone now. I’ve never been alone with my depression and now it’s swallowing me.” A few tears leaking down her face, her bottom lip trembled a bit as she tried to hold back.

          Levi sighed and gave her a small look, placing a hand on her cheek wiping away her tears.

          “It’s his loss, my gain.” Levi kissed her forehead. “Let me heal you.” Levi kissed her gently, she only looked at him, with dismal (e/c) eyes. He glanced at her lips, then to her eyes, he kissed her once more. “I’ve loved you for years. And he’s a fucking fool if he won’t appreciate you, I will.” More of her tears started to escape. “You’re beautiful, even when crying.”

          ___ gulped for a moment, before finally giving in, letting all of the tears go. She reached up, wrapping her arms around Levi’s neck, trying to muffle her cries into his neck. Levi bent down more to pick her up, carrying her to the couch in her office. As he sat down, he placed her on his lap, before wrapping his arms around her tightly.

          “I’ll heal you with the love that I have harbored for years.” ___ rests her head on his shoulder, clinging to him. He couldn’t help but smirk. “I never thought I would be able to hold you, it feels amazing to be here for you.” He kissed her forehead. “Take your time loving me. For now, I want to be your support. Even if you never say that you love me. I want you to be happy, your happiness means everything to me.”

          ___ closed her eyes. “I still want to stay home.”

          “I’ll bring your work every day that you stay at home.” She nodded. “At least you’re mine now.”

          “I never agreed to that.”

          “You will, one day.”

[thekidultlife]

Word prompt request pls? Minghao and hands?

(A/N: I uh...if you guys have been following my blog and Leanne's, we've been watching an anime called A Certain Scientific Accelerator and have been going crazy over it for a past few days. I always loved that series and took the time to read the novels, so this was directly inspired from it....i know you guys wanted some fluff but im in a mood for horror these days 😂 -Hyeri)

◇

"Just a little bit more."

In this deep dark underbelly of a certain city of science, lies a dim luminance amidst the abyss. Light reflected from the human-sized cylinder filled with an unknown liquid, illuminating the large room with a freakishly green glow.

"Just a bit more...with these hands..."

A young man whispered to himself little encouragements as he continued to dance his fingers on the keyboard. His monitor was showing various stats as cables big and small wrapped around him and the cylinder in a snake-like hold.

Despite the speed of his hands, the young man was holding back sobs, puncturing his voices of encouragement like a pierce through the heart.

"I'll...I'll grant your wish..."

In this deep dark underbelly of a certain city of science, a different kind of flower had bloomed.

Years before everything had happened, life was much easier and uncomplicated.

He was Xu Minghao back then, a talented neuroscientist who came to the city lured by generous research grants and advanced technology. There wasn't any downsides as he began his research on dementia and neurological diseases. It was the greatest time of his life surrounded by people who thought like him and appreciated what he was seeking. It was paradise.

Yet when Minghao thought it couldn't get any better, you came along.

"This is test subject 00 - 1a."

You were introduced to him the day, the first of his human volunteers.

"Call me Y/N though! Being called a test subject is pretty awful," you told him as soon as the other head scientist walked away.

Minghao smiled, he had feared you'd be as stoic as the name given to you, yet it seemed those fears were unfounded.

"Then nice to meet you too, Y/N. I'm Minghao," he replied and you grinned, flashing your bright full smile.

"I'll be in your care, doc!"

Y/N was someone who was easy to work with, as Minghao had noted in his logbook. You were nice, cooperative and friendly, and little did he realize how he was slowly growing attached to you.

"Looks like your vitals are fine, Y/N," he told you one day after a regular checkup after a round of tests. "I'm wondering though, why did you become a test subject for this kind of research?"

To his question, you had only grinned. The dull teal green gown on you flowing like the wind as you moved, making him look elsewhere.

"Now, now, doc~ Are you curious?" You asked with a teasing look, "Haven't you found out anything in your research?"

Minghao glanced at you with a frown. "You seem pretty normal, apart from your sudden bouts of unconsciousness."

Smiling, you replied with a twinkle in your eyes. "Looks like you aren't from around here, are you doc?"

It didn't take him long to warm up to you and your bubbly personality. It was the only warmth he could feel down in the desolate and freezing labs, the only one who could make him feel less like a bastard for experimenting with humans and more of a doctor trying to help someone.

"You like to paint, doc?" You asked, munching on a sandwich as you watched him type on a computer.

"From time to time. Why'd you ask?" He replied as he looked up to you.

"Your desktop wallpaper. I felt like you drew that."

"Oh?" Minghao raised his brows, piqued by your comment. "You're quite intuitive, aren't you?"

"I have level 1 telepathy. It's more than enough to sense a few things," you told him with a slight giggle.

"That's amazing. I didn't realize the extent of your abilities," Minghao remarked, to which you only waved your hand in dismissal.

"Not as amazing as others out there," you continued, as your tone went to a downcast turn. "I'm a level one and I can't see a day without suddenly collapsing. Here in this city, people like me are called liabilities."

That was the first time he had heard you open up to him. Minghao gazed at you with heaviness in his heart as you made a bitter and cynical smile.

"I wanted to be useful, just for once in my life. Even if that means I have to be a test subject, at least I can help other people with conditions like me, right doc?"

Despite the smile on your face, Minghao felt the pain and the hurt you had endured all your life. He hated it. He hated how much life had robbed you of the light; a light which you were now ironically seeking at a place where it never shines through.

"It's ok, Y/N," Minghao told you as he wrapped ypu in a tight hug. "I'll help you with your dream. I'll make sure that this research wouldn't be in vain."

With that promise, Minghao began to work extensively. He wanted to remove that painful look on your face as you smiled at him, waving as if it was normal to sit inside a large machine trying to manipulate your brain. It was a sacrifice you were willing to make, and he was determined to achieve your goal.

It was for you. All for you.

Minghao wasn't stupid. He knew you were dying. The bouts of fainting and collapsing was getting more and more frequent. Each passing day, you had grown weaker and he was becoming more and more desparate.

"Her condition is worsening, Dr. Xu. What do we do? She's the most successful of all test subjects."

There was no need for asking.

"Let's move to phase two."

He hadn't thought of it at first, but he had already sunk himself knee deep into the mud without even knowing. He had never realized how twisted this city was and how he had submerged himself in its dark, dark abyss voluntarily.

The first time he saw it was during a failed test.

A huge forced slammed around the thick concrete walls of the room, creating a slight tremor. The glass separating the scientists from the test site suddenly cracked, reflecting the horror on Minghao's face as he saw you pick up a stray iron bar and walked towards a weakened attendant with an uncomprehensible expression on our face that was akin to wicked delight.

"Die. Die. Die. Die! Die!!!"

You screamed, hammering the attendant with the iron bar hard enough to draw blood.

"N-no...stop it! Y/N stop!"

Minghao was the first one to scream as he raced down the testing room, bursting the door open and stopping you before you could commit murder.

He had never recovered from what he saw that day, yet he didn't have the strength to stay away from you.

"...what happened that time, Y/N?" Minghao asked, interviewing you.

You gazed at him, eyes tinged with panic.

"I...I don't know. I'm sorry..."

Minghao could feel the anxiety in your voice, the guilt of killing with your own hands. He didn't want this.

"Y/N, let's just stop this..."

"No!" You shouted, which then turned into soft sobs. "No...no....not now, please, doc. I don't want to be like this anymore...I don't want to be sick anymore."

"Y/N..."

"Please...would you grant me my wish?"

And he did.

And it came with a terrible price.

"No, h-help! Help me please!"

Screams were heard inside the testing room, blood was splattered on the wall. Yet Minghao had become tolerant of it. It was ok. It was for you.

"Who would've thought overlaying a Level 5 esper's thought patterns would make her more stable, though a bit violent. This is good data, Minghao. Congratulations."

He could hear the grant sponsor greet him yet his face remained stoic. He glanced at the folder beside him, not noticing that the research had changed names over the course of several years.

"This marks the first step to the project. Thank you for your work, Doctor."

He was congratulating Minghao as if it was the end. No, it isn't the end. Not yet.

In the deep dark underbelly of a certain city of science, Minghao walked towards the testing room. He could hear water dripping in irregular beats, his steps echoing across the lab.

It was once clean and bright, but now it was in disarray. Abandoned and empty after an incident years before. Minghao had moved on to other projects as well yet he still came back.

"Hi, doc," you greeted him with a bright smile, hands bloody and uniform stained red.

"Hi, Y/N," he replied, his eyes were now heavy and exhausted. Xu Minghao had changed over the years. "How's school?"

Grinning, you pushed the body of a female classmate out of the way so you can reach him.

"It was great! I made some friends, but they didn't really like me..." you pouted, seemingly innocent. "So I made them like me!"

Minghao made a small smile. This was fine. At least you were happy.

In the deep dark underbelly of a certain city of science, a murky darkness filled with despair existed.

-Hyeri

[flutteringphalanges]

                                 Caught in a Riptide

Summary: After the infamous Count Dracula is discovered and taken into custody by the Jonathan Harker Foundation, former nun and now guardian to her young niece, Zoe, Agatha Van Helsing is tasked with keeping tabs on the vampire after a mishap leads to his release into modern day society. Can Agatha remain levelheaded, or will fate turn her onto a new path?

Pairing: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rated: M

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Thanks for the love as usualy Finished this faster than I thought! I hope you guys enjoy! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! It fuels the update monster haha! -Jen

                                      Chapter Three

Well it certainly hadn't started as a good day to begin with. Agatha glared with frustration at her breakfast, two pieces of buttered toast, that had dropped to the ground the moment she stepped out of her car. It didn't help that she decided against packing a lunch, too rushed to get to the Harker Foundation as early as she could. Low blood sugar always put her in a mood-something that wasn't good considering the situation she was about to put herself in. Plucking her nerves would be ripe for the picking if she allowed Dracula the chance. If she could just focus, stay in her head space during all of this, all would be just fine. Or so she hoped.

Walking into the Foundation it was abundantly clear that after yesterday's episode, Bloxham had taken to upping security measures. There were more guards in the lobby alone than she had ever seen in the facility since she started. Many pairs of eyes watched her as she retrieved her key card and slid it through the slot. When it lit up red than its usual green, her brows knitted in confusion.

"We're doubling up now." One of the men explained as he strode forward to her side. "Boss's orders. Last three numbers in your National Insurance Number." He pointed over to a keypad that Agatha just now noticed. "First card, then numbers."

It was almost impressive how quickly the Harker Foundation had reacted to the "breach". Though she was opposed to her given password, Agatha was grateful that it would lead to less slip ups. Punching her numbers in, the light finally emitted the approved glow and the former nun stepped inside.

As she began to walk down the long corridor, it was almost eerie how the lights snapped on as she passed. Before she hadn't been alone, Jack by her side as they hurried along to learn the news of Dracula's capture. Now the only faces that greeted her were the near motionless guards whose expressions were nearly masked by their tinted helmets. New protocol, she had to remind herself. An action taken for all of their safety.

Entering her information once more into a nearby device, Agatha was startled to find Bloxham waiting on the other side staring at her with great intent. In her arms she held a file folder that she pushed in the former's nun's hands without saying a word. It was obvious that the scientist didn't want to apologize or even discuss what happened between Zoe and Dracula last night. Instead, she picked up her pace expecting the other woman to follow her.

"You won't be alone in the room." Bloxham explained, eyes not meeting Agatha's. "There are armed guards posted in any direction that if he was to break loose, he'd be stopped before he'd reach the door." She exhaled as they stopped in front of a door. "Everything you need is in there." The scientist stated, finally turning to face the other woman. "Questions, details...I only ask that you try to stay strict to the script unless there is something you think ought to be asked." Her dark eyes narrowed and even Agatha found herself a little intimidated. "Are we clear?"

She really didn't like Bloxham, especially after her niece was endangered by her carelessness. But Agatha knew that the only way she'd ever get exposure to Dracula first hand was to follow that woman's orders. "Crystal." She agreed. "I'll go by the book."

The scientist was silent for a moment before giving a curt nod. "Just keep in mind of what he is." Bloxham stated as she unlocked the sealed door. "Not that you don't know well enough." Of course she bloody did. She was a Van Helsing after all. "Good luck." And the woman's tone lacked sincerity as she said it.

The moment she stepped into the room, Agatha's eyes immediately locked onto the prison. In the center sat Dracula, his posture relaxed as he stared at something in his hands. She squinted and to her surprise it was a tablet. How he'd managed to acquire one and from who she wasn't sure. But she certainly didn't like the idea of it.

"Oh, Agatha!" The Count's voice was cheerful as he set down his device. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in." Lies. "Come, join me. I'm sure you have many questions to ask. I know I do."

The woman eyed the flimsy plastic chair left out for her less than a meter away from his cell. Inhaling deeply through her nose, she strode over and took a seat. She had to remain confident-and though that wasn't a major concern, she couldn't help but wonder if he could smell fear. Perhaps she could squeeze that question in.

"Count Dracula," she greeted in a level tone. "I hope our accommodations have suited you well?"

"Well, it's no palace. But it has its perks." The vampire smirked as he motioned towards his tablet. "How's your niece-Zoe, right? Gave you a bit of a scare, but she seemed alright with me."

Don't take the bait. Don't be lured in. "According to our records, you've lived over five centuries?"

"More or less," he exhaled. "Why, I believe your grandfather would've known better than me. It's surprising how some people know more about you than you know yourself." The way he stared at her made her insides squirm. "He was a very intelligent man, you know. Very brave, and yet asinine at the same time. He almost got me though."

"You speak as if it was a fond memory." Agatha frowned, closing her notes. Bloxham be damned. "So you're saying he almost killed you?"

"Oh of course not." Dracula snorted, leaning forward to get a good look at his interrogator. "Almost, but not close. Nevertheless a valiant effort on his part. I hope he was proud of himself. He should be." He shook his head and smiled. "There is a fine line, Agatha Van Helsing, between what can and can't kill a vampire. Myth versus fact. Take for an obvious example the Sun. Captivating in its beauty, but deadlier than the bite of a cobra." His expression turned dreamy almost as if he was experiencing a tender thought. "But do how I wish to gaze upon it."

"The cross," the former nun continued. "It's deadly to you."

"Moreso highly unpleasant," the vampire nodded to himself. "But I suppose it could if used a certain way…" As Agatha opened her mouth to ask more, the Count held up a finger. "It's my turn now," he informed her. "You didn't think I'd just let you do all of the asking, did you?"

Until that moment, she hadn't really considered that. She was so fixated on learning more, furthering her knowledge that was passed down from Abraham Van Helsing that she didn't think about the vampire's own inquiries. Agatha inhaled slowly, lips pressed into a firm line as her bright blue eyes met the dark of his.

"Go on then," she agreed. "Ask your questions."

"You aren't from here are you?" Somehow the way he said it was off-putting. "And no," he rolled his eyes. "I don't mean your native country. I can hear that clearly from your accent. No...No, you haven't been working here long have you?" His smile was curious and yet menacing. "What are you, Agatha Van Helsing?"

She didn't answer at first, but when his eyes remained locked onto hers, she relented. "A nun," she responded. "I was a nun before taking a job here."

"Why?" He leaned in even closer. "You don't seem like a woman dedicated to God." Agatha realized that his gaze now focused on her jugular. Even though she was safe from his bullet proof, glass prison, her uneasiness grew. "Why were you a nun?"

"Knowledge." And she honestly didn't know why she answered. "I did so for knowledge."

"A librarian or a historian didn't seem fitting enough?" Dracula mused, an eyebrow cocked in question. "My you are an interesting one, Agatha. I'm glad we've had the chance to become acquainted." He grinned as he grabbed his device. "With so many options on here, an in person conversation is much more revealing." Once again, his eyes fixated on her neck. "Perhaps we could have dinner some time?"

"I'd prefer to share a meal with a rabid dog." The vampire grinned so widely at this that Agatha was almost concerned his face would split in two. Almost. Rising to her feet, documents in hand, she averted her eyes from meeting his. "I'll be seeing you, Count Dracula."

"Yes you will," he promised. "Much sooner than you think." Dracula continued to smirk as he waved away Agatha. Something about his words didn't settle right. The former nun clutched the folder as she made her way to the door. "Au revoir, Agatha."

                                                        XXX

"What's he like? I mean, is he as ruthless as they say?"

Jack stared intently at Agatha as she stabbed her fork through another prawn in her salad. It was a good thing the young doctor had proposed they go out for lunch, she needed the fresh air after dealing with Dracula. The interview had certainly not gone the way she would've liked and Bloxham would be far from happy to see how much she had diverged from the given material.

"Snide." She mumbled through a mouthful of salad. "An uncultured swine."

"That bad huh?" Jack nodded thoughtfully. "So, how much did you get out of him?"

"Not enough," Agatha admitted with a sigh. "He...is very clever with changing topics. I realize that now." She began to jab at her lettuce a little harder. "I'll be more prepared next time." At least she promised herself that. How he had managed to turn everything on to her, she wasn't sure. But never again. "I'll make sure to get everything we need to know."

"We got a few blood samples," the doctor commented. "Actually, you should've been there to see it. Needle wouldn't go through his skin. He had to use his nails. Actual nails, Agatha. I've never seen anything like it."

Impenetrable skin. She'd add that to her growing list. "Have yet realized it yet?" Agatha watched as Jack took another mouthful of his sandwich and shook his head. Pity. It would've been nice to know more of what they were dealing with.

"...Actually, Agatha, he did ask for you."

The former nun froze in her seat, her fork resting in her salad bowl. Asked for her? About what? Bloxham hadn't said anything and Dracula of all people hadn't. What was he talking about?

"Why did he ask for me?" She asked, picking up her utensil. She was jamming at the bowl now, not even paying attention whatsoever. "What did he ask, Jack?"

"He wanted a sample of your blood…" The young doctor finished. "I don't know why, your guess is as good as yours. Bloxham actually promised it to him. Maybe to get him to talk to you? Did he mention anything?"

"No," Agatha frowned deeply. "No one mentioned Dracula receiving my blood."

"Maybe it didn't happen yet then," Jack shrugged. "Maybe Bloxham is holding it over him like some sort of bribe."

"He's smarter than that," the woman scoffed. "As much as it pains me to admit it. For whatever reason, he didn't bring it up. Maybe he knows something we don't." Christ, she hoped that wasn't the case. Out of everyone, why did he want her blood anyway? "I'll have a word with Bloxham tomorrow and don't worry, I won't bring your name up." The last thing she wanted to do was to get Jack in trouble.

"Thanks, Agatha." He gave her a warm, genuine smile. If she could rely on anyone about anything, it was Jack. "Anyway, I meant to ask. I heard about what happened yesterday with Zoe. Is she okay? Did he…"

"No." And the young man was slightly taken aback by the dark expression that crossed the woman's features. "They had a friendly conversation but it didn't go any further than that." She sighed, shaking her head. "I really need to work with her on not talking to strangers. She's too…"

"Outgoing?" Jack suggested with a small smile.

"For her own good," Agatha finished. "Honestly, I don't know where she gets it from. Her father was the most introverted person I ever knew and her own aunt-me, was a nun of all things." She chuckled, but there was a hint of sadness in her tone. "Perhaps our lack of extroverted-ness had to go somewhere."

"She's a special little girl." The man exclaimed, raising his glass towards Agatha before taking a sip. "You're lucky."

"Yes." She exhaled, smiling softly. "I suppose I am."

Just as Agatha set her drink down, she heard her phone vibrating in her purse. Curious, she reached inside and retrieved it. The Jonathan Harker Foundation. Without even knowing why, the former nun felt her blood run cold. Locking eyes with Jack, she reluctantly answered it.

"Agatha Van Helsing speaking."

"It's Bloxham." Came the voice from the other line. "I need you and Jack to return back here as soon as possible."

"Why?" Something in Bloxham's tone was unnerving. Wrong. "Has something happened?"

For a brief moment, the scientist was silent. "We've received word about Dracula's incarceration." The woman sighed, sounding truly defeated. "Count Dracula is to be released from The Jonathan Harker Foundation." Another pause. "Tonight."

[autumnwoodsdreamer]

For the prompt can you do Nat x Tony “when will you be home?” That is if you’re taking requests, if not don’t worry xxx ❤️

You’re in luck! I actually already had something along those lines sitting in my drafts folder!

.....

Red-eye flights are ideally inexpensive, one is guaranteed to get a seat, and waiting around in an almost empty airport is so much more manageable than an airport swarming with constant comings and goings.

It was currently quarter-past midnight. Natasha's flight was at 2 am.

These days, she no longer began new missions mere seconds after completing a previous mission, inventing covers and speed-reading through classified files while running out of taxis and catching last-minute flights. She wasn't sure how life had worked out this way, that she could go entire weeks without ever so much as glimpsing a restricted mission report. She was quite pleased with her current circumstance, even if extended periods of tranquility tended to make her nervous.

As much as she enjoyed the peace, she knew it wasn't to last, so she wasn’t all that surprised when Coulson contacted her and assigned her a new mission: a deep infiltration operation requiring an intricate and delicate cover, the likes of which she specialized in.

The call came through two hours ago, waking her from a deep, sound sleep (another benefit of her new routine). Without hesitation, she accepted the assignment. She had never declined a mission in all her espionage career, and even though she was now a member of a ragtag group of superheroes tasked with keeping the world safe, she was still an agent of SHIELD, first and foremost.

Immediately awake, she dressed and packed a rucksack of essentials in thirteen minutes flat. Sneaking out of the Tower without a farewell to her team, she caught a taxi and instructed the driver to drop her off at the airport.

Now she sat in a little airport cafe, strategically placing herself in a far corner at a small table, ignoring her cup of coffee as she read through the mission files on her smartphone and prepared herself for the mission.

Focussed on the heavily-detailed files, she tuned out the calm music, the quiet clinking and clanging of dishes and cutlery, and the infrequent but loud and emotional reunions or farewells of strangers.

Never absolutely ignorant of her surroundings, she registered the presence of a newcomer approaching her small table but easily dismissed them as a waiter. She didn't bother tearing her gaze or attention from her phone... until the person grabbed an empty chair and noisily dragged it over to join her.

She tensed for a confrontation but, when she looked up, all she saw was a very familiar face.

“Stark?” Despite her confusion, she calmed down as she realized the only danger she was in was danger of an awkward conversation with her teammate.

“Hi. Your coffee’s cold,” he said, simply, as he sat down in his obnoxiously acquired chair and placed a fresh cup of coffee on the table. He put it down in the middle, as if cautiously offering food to a ferrel animal, afraid of an attack.

“What are you doing here?” Natasha demanded, ignoring the coffee.

“Caught you heading out the Tower with a backpack,” Tony explained, his gaze fixed on his own coffee—a pitch black, triple shot espresso, Natasha noticed, but decided it was an insignificant detail in this picture. “You looked like you were heading out on a mission or something.”

“You know my missions are classified and dangerous,” she said with a blatant and serious tone. “Why did you follow me?”

He smirked, a trademark expression for him. “I know for a fact not all your missions are dangerous. Playing personal assistant to a mad scientist?” He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head.

“That was dangerous,” Natasha protested. “I worked for you for a week, and within that time, you managed to incite the rage of a rogue inventor and a shady technologist to the point that an army of drones tried to obliterate you and ended up destroying an entire expo city. And you nearly set the house on fire three times while I was there—don't think I forgot about that.”

“But did you die?” he asked and laughed a moment later. “My life's not like that all the time; it was just that week, I promise.”

“I don't believe you. Now: you didn't leave the safety of the Tower and follow me all the way to this airport to exchange banter. What do you want?”

Tony shrugged, casually, and slipped his gaze down to the coffee cups sitting idle on the table. “I don't want anything, Romanov,” he answered, plainly.

“Don't play dumb: you want to know where I'm going.”

“We've been on the same team for five months now; I'm used to you just randomly sneaking off on missions for Fury. And, okay, I'll admit: I am curious about something.”

“I don't guarantee an answer,” Natasha warned, slowly crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.

He read her guarded expression but it didn't deter him from launching his questions, rapid-fire. “Why do you even bother being an Avenger if your loyalty is to SHIELD? Why play on one team when you're already quarterback on another? I mean, you switch sides like a chameleon changes colour. Why?”

“It would only be switching sides if one assumes SHIELD and the Avengers are on opposing sides.”

“Cryptic. Cute, but I expected that.”

“I was never actually considered for the Initiative,” she confessed, lowering her voice. “I was meant to be a part of the Secret Avengers Initiative: basically, the super spy division. Somehow, I ended up on the big leagues team, but it's just a ‘wrong time, wrong place,’ situation. This team takes on rampaging robots, tricky terrorists, and deranged dictators. The really loud stuff; it’s... it’s not my forte. But SHIELD-sanctioned missions call for my unique skills. That's why I accept these assignments, because I don't have a lot to give in this world, but what I can, I do.”

“Okay. I think I get it.” Tony paused to take a long sip of coffee. He kept his gaze on his cup for a moment longer as he seemed to consider. “So... why do you stay then?"

She opened her mouth to answer but silence—between them and in her own mind—met the simple question.

Everything she did was calculated and measured. Every action, every word—everything had to have a reason and it had to work towards a desired outcome. She didn’t do superfluous things—on a mission, that could cost precious intel or even lives.

But staying in Avengers Tower, staying on with the team... Fury hadn’t ordered her to do so and she didn’t feel like she did it just to follow Clint either.

She shrugged. “It’s home.”

Tony breathed out a light laugh that read as understanding rather than teasing. “Alright. So when will you be home?" he asked. Awaiting her reply, he sipped again at his coffee in an attempt to appear nonchalant.

“Probably sometime in January,” she said. She reached across the table and finally accepted the fresh coffee. It was full of cream, sugar, and she detected a hint of spices. Vaguely, she wondered how he knew, but dismissed the thought.

“Do your missions always take so long?”

“I was supposed to be your personal assistant for longer. Much longer. That's not how it worked out. Usually, I can determine and control when my cover is blown...”

He smiled at the jab.

They lapsed into silence after that. It was... strange. Companionable but not all that familiar. Still, neither felt pressured to fill it.

Music played on in the background: the sedate, acoustic versions of pop songs radio stations only played in the late, late hours. People came and went; the inventor and the spy watched the touching reunions and farewells as detached observers. Time ticked away. A disembodied, impartial voice called out boarding flights at regular intervals.

Words passed, unspoken, between the two as they smoothly, mutually avoided eye contact.

The voice over the loudspeaker called out another call to board. Natasha stood up and swung the rucksack over her shoulder.

“That's my flight,” she said, simply.

“I’ll walk you to the gate,” Tony offered, pushing his chair back and standing up.

They walked in step through the airport to the departure gates, letting the silence settle for just a bit longer.

“So... January?”

“Huh?” Natasha paused in the doorway to the winding corridor that would lead her to the plane. Fellow passengers continued on their way, oblivious.

“You'll be back in January, right?” Tony asked, his nonchalance fracturing with an ever so slightly furrowed brow.

“Yeah,” Natasha nodded in confirmation, her own casual mask well in place. “Not sure when exactly, but January, definitely.”

“If you want... you could call when you get back,” he said, averting his gaze again. “I could come pick you up. Unless you like taking a taxi...”

She let her own nonchalance fall away so she could give him a genuine smile. “Thanks.”

She waited a beat longer. She'd spent the last two hours watching so many farewells play out, but she hadn't expected one her own.

The voice over the loudspeaker called for boarding once again; Natasha took it as her cue to leave.

“Goodbye!” Tony called as she disappeared out of sight, just too far away to respond or even let him know she heard.

She boarded the plane, found her seat, and set her gaze out the window to watch as the lights of the airport and the city slipped away.

For the first time ever, she actually felt like she was leaving something behind... something worth returning to...

Something that felt a lot like home.

.....

Tagging @littlemsstark3000 and @katiktwilight and thanking all who read my stuff; you’ve been a great help in getting me over a bad bout of writer’s block! ;D

[queenbirbs]

sooner or later | Ethan Ramsey x MC

WC: 6k+

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: N*FW

Summary: In which Ethan and Sloane go furniture shopping, have a conversation, and reach the end of their stalemate. 

+ + +

“Hold the elevator!”

Sloane reflexively throws her arm out, stopping the doors from closing as footsteps pound down the hallway. Leaning against the opposite wall, Doctor Mirani grumbles at the idea of having to wait five more seconds. Over her shoulder, Sloane throws him a sheepish smile, to which he rolls his eyes at. 

“Thanks,” the voice says again, closer this time. 

She releases the door and steps back, allowing Ethan into the car. The glance they share is quick and flustered (similar to the last time they were this close, which was at her apartment before the trial) before they scurry to opposite ends of the car as the doors clink shut. 

Bringing up her phone, she pretends to find her home screen interesting; across the space, Ethan taps at the smartwatch on his wrist. The reflection in his glasses reveals that he’s merely swiping through the two screens, though his focused gaze would make it seem like he was reviewing an extremely important case. She bites back a grin at his fumbling attempt to act busy.

“Are you all doing anything for the holiday?” she asks as the elevator clanks to life and starts down into the parking garage. 

“Avoiding useless chit-chat,” Mirani snaps, not bothering to look up from the file in his hands. 

Sloane shrugs, considering a response from him a success in and of itself, before she looks over to Ethan. He’s still swiping across his watch, but he does catch her gaze to lift an eyebrow at her. It definitely does not make her insides feel funny. 

“Considering I’m not five years-old, no.” 

“I didn’t know if you would take Jenner out and--” 

A loud screech cuts her off. Several bangs sound against the top of the car. The elevator continues its descent as the walls rattle around them; Sloane grabs for the handrail when the car drops a few more feet, before it jerks to a sudden stop.

The three of them hold their breath, waiting. 

Then the elevator starts again, clanking its way down. No one speaks until the car slows and the doors open to the dimly-lit parking garage.  

“Thank god,” Mirani mutters. “If I had to be stuck in a confined space with the two of you, I would’ve offed myself with the edge of this folder.” Tucking it under his arm, he throws a hand up at them in a half-assed goodbye before heading for the far row of cars. 

“Goodnight to you, too, Zaid,” she calls, her voice echoing across the cavernous space. His immediate departure leaves the two of them alone, hovering on the concrete as the elevator doors close shut behind them. Ethan shoots her a curious glance.

“Did you get off on the wrong floor?” he asks. The question takes her off-guard for a moment, before she remembers the reason for her change in routine. 

“No, I’m waiting on--” she barely gets the sentence out before a figure comes jogging up to them. “Bryce! Hey, sorry I’m a little late, I got caught…” she trails off, taking notice of his outfit as he slows his approach. “Wait, why are you wearing scrubs?” 

Bryce’s handsome face pulls into a wince. 

“Yeah, sorry, Slo. Doctor Zimmerman wanted me here since two of the other residents called out sick. But now I get to assist on a carotid endarterectomy!” His attempt to point out the brighter side of her plans completely falling through does nothing to make her feel better. He must be able to tell by the look on her face, because the wince is back as he reaches out and squeezes her shoulder. “Listen, we can go tomorrow, right?” 

Sloane nods, trying for a smile. She knows it isn’t his fault that he was called in, just as she knows it isn’t her fault that she has a friend that’s excited to come in on their day off to help pick out plaque out of someone’s neck. 

But that doesn’t help her get over the fact that her plan is in shambles now. 

“Yeah, we’ll go tomorrow.” She steps aside, letting Bryce slap the call button for the elevator. The doors spring openly immediately and she nods at the little wave he throws her before the elevator takes him up. Only then does she let out a ragged sigh, pushing the hair out of her face for good measure, and tries to think of a solution. 

“Cancelled date, I presume?” 

She nearly jumps at the question, spinning to see Ethan standing off to the side, where he must’ve lingered to overhear the short conversation.  

“No, actually,” she explains, “he was supposed to help me pick up Sienna’s birthday present. He’s the only person I know with a big enough vehicle.”  

It’s not her imagination that his jaw suddenly unclenches and that the tightness around his eyes fades. His jealous streak is one of his unfortunate qualities that she finds attractive, if only for the enjoyment of experiencing the creative ways he works it out of his system. 

Or, well, experienced. 

That’s all in the past now, of course. They both set their feelings out on the table and walked away, after she was assigned to the diagnostics team as a junior fellow. All attempts to make it work never got off the ground, and after a while, Sloane stopped bothering to try. She worked hard to get where she is, and she didn’t see the point of wasting precious time by knocking at a door that was never going to budge. 

“Oh.” He fidgets with the strap of his bag for a moment, hesitation written in the dance of his fingers across the buckle. “Well, I do. Have a car, that is.” 

Sloane stops herself from replying with something stupid, like of course I know you have a car, don’t you remember the time we nearly tore each other’s clothes off in that dark parking lot of that restaurant when we couldn’t wait to get home? 

Instead, because she’s an adult and she understands what he’s hinting at, she goes for: “Oh, no, thank you, but I couldn’t ask that of you.” 

“But you didn’t ask,” he clarifies, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “I’m offering.”  

“No, really, it’s fine -- the store is down in Stoughton and that’s nearly an hour’s drive with traffic and I’m sure you would much rather go home than--”

“Sloane.” 

“--and you probably need to take Jenner out and feed her dinner and this would take too--”

“Sloane.” 

His interruption draws her up short. That smirk of his softens into something fonder, something she recognizes as that smile that only seems to appear when she’s around. Stepping closer, he nods his head at the nearest row of cars and pulls his key fob from his pocket. “Really, come on. If it’s as far as you say it is, we need to get there before it closes.”

“But what about Jenner?” 

“My sister is in town with my nephew, who will use any excuse to play with that dog. She’ll be well-cared for,” he assures as he steps backward towards the cars. “Trust me.”

Desperate enough to want her surprise to be perfect (and helpless to resist such a generous offer), Sloane follows him to the sleek Jaguar F-Pace that hums to life at the press of his key. It’s a world away from the twenty year-old Toyota Camry with its infamous faulty transmission that she drove during college. Sliding into the passenger seat, she inputs the address into the car’s navigation and sits back as Ethan maneuvers them out of the garage and onto the street. The students from across the bridge are already on the move, witches and firefighters and jedis and superheroes making their slow trek down to the bars off Congress Street. 

With the musical lilt of the classical station filling the car, they don’t really talk until they make it out of the city. 

“Thank you for doing this,” Sloane tells him over the sounds of Beethoven’s third symphony as they break away from the traffic on 93-South. The sea of headlights behind them acts as a backlight, making his eyes seem that much bluer in the rapidly-approaching dusk when he glances over at her. 

“You’re welcome.” His eyes flicker over to her for a moment before darting back to the road ahead. “I have to admit, I was relieved when this turned out to be nothing more than a birthday present excursion.” 

She frowns at his words, looking over at him for clarification, but his gaze is focused straight ahead. 

“What do you mean? I told you that’s what--”

“Originally, when you were talking to that scalpel jockey--”

“You mean Bryce,” she corrects. 

“--right, sure,” he gives a little shrug, as if her amendment means nothing. “I’m glad to know that it wasn’t going to be anything more than this.” He motions to the highway, to the pockets of traffic that they speed past in the fast lane. 

She resists the urge to cross her arms over her chest, but she can’t clamp down on the question that spills out of her mouth. 

“And what if it was?” Sloane meets his eyes when they move off the road and connect with hers. There’s a world of heartache and envy and regret swirling in them, blue flashing hot and quick under the red glow of the running lights ahead. “Because if you’re going to make me sit here and try to make me feel bad for wanting to be with someone else, after we’ve been over and done with for three months, then you’re going to take the next exit and I’m going to catch my own ride back home.” 

His head jerks to the side.

“That’s not what I’m--” he reaches across the console as if to comfort her, before he pulls back at the last second, as if remembering his place. “--hey, no, I -- wait, we’re not over with--” 

She plays him at his own game, cutting him off before he can continue his fumbling explanation. 

“Then what would you call it? After that conversation we had at the hospital, everything regressed and we went back to how it was before. It was like being in that awful limbo after Miami, where we both knew what we wanted, but one of us was too afraid to act on it.”

Ethan watches her for a moment longer, before he feigns interest in the semi in front of them. The space inside the cabin becomes tense and quiet, punctuated only by the somber notes of the symphony’s second movement and the occasional car horn. Sloane faces the side window and watches the cars they speed past, at the kids sleeping in the backseats and the drivers texting and the couples laughing and the friends singing along to the radio. She hates the silence, hates that she let herself hope that this time would be different, that he’d fight for what he believes in, what she’s sure they both want, rather than this miserable state of uncertainty they’ve been living in since--              

“You’re right.”

Turning from the window, she takes in his profile, sure that she’s misheard. “I’m sorry?”

“You’re right,” he repeats, his gaze still set firmly ahead. His fingers turn a distinct shade of pale from where he clenches the steering wheel. “I was -- I am afraid.”

“Of what?” She hates how quickly her question comes, but she doesn’t want to give him a chance to breathe on it, to fumble for some half-hearted explanation after such an admission. 

Catching her eye, he gives her a slow, sad smile, as if he can read her thoughts. 

“In one-point-four miles, take exit nineteen-bee toward Central Street.” 

“We’ll be there shortly,” he says instead, avoiding her question as he gestures to the navigation screen between them. “Do you need to notify them that we’re close?” 

Sloane watches him for a long moment, deciding whether or not to push at him. In the end, she relents and lets him have his poor attempt at avoidance. 

“No, they’ll have everything ready at the front for me.”     

“Oh. Well, good -- that’s… good.” 

“Yep.”

“Listen, I am aware that -- I mean, I know that we need to sit down and have an actual conversation about--”

“In point-three miles, merge onto Harrison Boulevard.” 

“Look, Ethan, we’re almost there. You can save it for the drive back.”

+

True to their promise, the store has her items ready to go when they arrive. It takes them all of ten minutes to go from pulling into the parking lot to jumping back onto the highway. The five boxes that contain Sienna’s new bedframe are all tightly packed into the trunk. 

Sloane texts the group chat with Jackie and Elijah, who assure her that Sienna is already out with them for the Halloween bar crawl and that she won’t be home until after three a.m. 

Any chance of having that conversation stalls when a ringtone plays through the speakers as Doctor Toussaint’s name pops up across the display. They spend the next forty minutes discussing a case of nephrotic syndrome with her. Ethan volleys questions over to Sloane to gather her input. She gets a laugh out of him when she’s able to pull up the Oxford Textbook of Clinical Nephrology on her phone through her e-reader app.    

“Why on earth do you have that in your library?” he asks, keeping his voice down as to not interrupt Toussaint’s monologue about opioid addictions and their role in damaging kidney functions. 

“I needed it for an internal medicine class. I paid more for it than I did my rent at the time.” She can’t help but smile when Ethan chuckles at her explanation. Their back-and-forth with Toussaint continues for the rest of the ride, until they pull up to Sloane’s apartment complex and Ethan hangs up. After throwing on his hazards and opening his trunk, he offers to help bring up the boxes. 

Deciding that she isn’t so prideful as to try and carry them all upstairs by herself, Sloane agrees. It takes them three trips, the last with both of them hauling the largest box through the front door and unceremoniously dropping it straight onto the hardwood. 

“There’s nothing… breakable in there, right?” he asks between sharp inhales. Sloane forgoes words in favor of shaking her head, drawing her own quick breaths and deciding that her choice to skip the gym in favor of watching reruns of Fringe with Elijah was probably not the best idea. 

As Ethan straightens up from the dining chair he’s been leaning on for two minutes, Sloane moves to the purse she dumped on the table and retrieves a twenty-dollar bill. 

“You’re not planning on handing that to me, are you?” His expression twists into a frown as he shakes his head. “I told you--”

“Ethan,” she sighs, gesturing towards him again with the money. “It was over forty miles.”

“I drive farther than that when I go up to Sudbury to see Naveen.”

“That’s not my point,” she interrupts. “I want to compensate you for the time and energy and helping me carry all this shit up here. I know this isn’t how you wanted to spend your night off.” 

The frown on his face deepens, though the tightness around his eyes does diminish some. It’s a familiar look that she’s spotted a few times since their parting. Something she only sees when he’s looking at her. While she tells herself that it’s disappointment or frustration -- in the quiet of her bedroom, late at night, she knows it’s regret. And maybe that’s why she’s been holding on to that sliver of hope all these months, those scraps of maybe-someday thoughts. And maybe that’s why she gets a little weak in the knees when he sets those eyes of his onto her now and takes the few remaining steps between them. His hand drifts up and takes her outstretched one. 

Only for him to pull the money from her fist and shove the dollar back into her purse. 

That flame inside her ribcage that she’s been feeding for months flares to life at the movement, at how close he is to her now. 

“Why do you assume that my evening is ruined if I choose to spend it with you? It’s just the opposite.” 

His admission takes her by surprise, though she stamps it out in favor of the bitterness she’s been carrying around since that day in the atrium.          

“Well, because when you said we’d ‘make it work’ and then proceeded to ignore me outside of work for three months, I assumed that’s what making it work meant to you. That we were…” she pauses to drag in a breath, unable to blame it on the heavy lifting this time. 

“That we were…?” he prompts. 

“Done.” 

Ethan winces at the sharp response. His hand lifts into the space between them before he pulls it back and crosses his arms. “It’s difficult.” 

“I know that,” she admits. “But what’s not difficult is letting me know, so I don’t feel like I’m waiting for something that will never happen.” 

His eyes widen at her words. “No, that’s not -- what I mean is: what we do is important. On that we agree, yes?”

“Yes,” she nods.

“And, on that same level of importance -- for me, at least -- is you. And the only way I apparently know how to focus on both things is to… completely shut out one of those, because I don’t know how to mix them.” 

“So, we don’t.” 

He makes a confused noise in his throat. “I’m sorry?” 

She shrugs off his bewilderment. “I don’t have a roadmap for a situation like this, but you act as if we aren’t fully-capable adults. You said it yourself: our work is important. So, if we were to hypothetically get together, when we’re at work, that’s it.”

“That’s it?” he repeats, unable to hold back his trademark scoff, even as a grin dances at the corners of his lips. 

Sloane leans her hip against the table and lifts an eyebrow at his skepticism. “You make this seem like it’s the hardest question on the Step 2 test.”   

“Right now it feels like the Step 3, actually,” he quips. Shifting closer, he comes to stand next to her, while giving her the space to move away if she chooses. Sloane scoots closer. “You make it sound so simple, but there will be times when it’s not going to be so easy.” 

“Good,” she hums as she tips her head up to look him in the eye. “Because nothing worthwhile is.” 

There’s that sharp huff of laughter and he’s shaking his head, but then he’s leaning down and she’s leaning up and--

--then Paul McCartney starts singing about flying in from Miami Beach. 

“Is that the Beatles?” Ethan asks, straightening to look around the room for the source of the noise.  

“Yeah, it’s -- my landlord, he’s afraid of communists, it’s a whole… thing,” Sloane tries to explain as she scrambles for her phone, retrieving it from her purse and swiping to answer the call. 

“Hey, Farley, what can I--” she’s interrupted by a garbled shout about her car blocking the fire lane and the charge from the city he’ll tack onto their rent if it isn’t moved within the next minute. The complaints are loud enough that Ethan steps back to locate his keys. Sloane imagines Farley with a bucket in hand, dousing the little flame in her chest until it’s nothing but a whisp of smoke. “Okay, I’m -- yes, I’ll move it right now. Yes, right now right now.” 

Hanging up before he can finish his tirade, she walks Ethan to the door. 

“I’m--” she starts and then cuts herself off with a shake of her head, “--thanks again for your help. Really, I can’t thank you enough.” 

“Yes, of course.” He switches the key fob to his other hand and then back again, before clearing his throat. “I should--”

“Yeah, it’s late.” Sloane opens the door for him and leans back against the handle, trying to keep her hands to herself. They have time, she tells herself as Ethan bids her goodnight and disappears down the hallway. 

It’s what she keeps telling herself when she shuts and locks the door and turns to see the five massive boxes taking up most of the entryway. Remembering the whole reason for their trip, she begins moving them back into Sienna’s bedroom. 

She’s dumping out the steel posts from the second box when there’s a knock at the door. Pulling out her phone, she checks for any texts from drunken roommates that might have misplaced their keys and are coming back earlier than planned, but there’s no new message in the group chat.   

So, to find Ethan on the other side of the door is a nice surprise. 

“Did you forget something?” she asks.

“No, I -- I got to my car and realized that I left things just like I did last time.” His breathing is a little erratic and he doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands as he steps inside and hovers next to the couch. Sloane closes and locks the door behind her. “I needed to come back and finish that conversation we were having, or... whatever it was. I wanted to tell you how much I’m… disappointed in myself, knowing that my worries about us being together might have stopped you from finding happiness with someone else. Someone who could--”

“Ethan.”

“--no, it’s,” he shakes his head with a sigh. “Earlier, in the car, I shouldn’t have said those things. I shouldn’t have expected on you to always be there. It was selfish of me.” 

“I don’t want to talk anymore,” she interrupts. His face falls at her words, prompting her to shake her head at him as she approaches, a fond grin on her face. “All we’ve done is talk.”

The teasing tone of her voice finally reaches past his nervousness; his shoulders loosen and his eyes light up, fixed on hers as she comes to a stop in front of him. She places a hand on his arm and squeezes there, her thumb running across the soft cotton of his shirt and feeling the warm skin beneath. He reaches for her and brings her closer, with a hand at her waist and another carding through the loose strands of her hair at her neck. 

Tipping her head up, he leans down and presses his lips to hers, soft and unhurried with the lingering hesitation he must still feel. Sloane pulls back and then dives in, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. She swipes her tongue at his bottom lip and makes a little noise of pleasure when he opens for her. 

It’s all new again, at first, until it’s not. Until the familiarity comes rushing back, like pulling a book from a shelf and re-reading it, the interest sparking again as the pages turn and the story unfolds its familiar pathways.  

Sloane fits her arms around his shoulders and draws him closer, until the solid lines of his body are pressing against her. He pulls back to catch his breath and she can’t help but admire his swollen lips, pink and flushed from their kisses. His eyes meet hers; it’s a storm brewing over the ocean, the blue shrouded by the ever-expanding black of his pupils. Under his watchful gaze, she places her lips to the base of his neck. Her name escapes him on the end of a sigh, his grip tightening on her as she nips at his stubbled skin, brushing a trail up the sharp line of his throat. Her attention elicits a groan from him, as he slides his hands over her hips and down under her ass. Picking her up, he carries her down the hallway and into her bedroom, where he knocks the door shut with his foot and settles her down onto the bed below him. 

The room is too dark for her to see him properly, lit only by the street lights from across the channel. She stretches across to the lamp on her nightstand. A warm glow floods the room; it carves deep shadows along the walls and closes up the space, the city beyond her window disappearing behind their reflections.  

Sloane sits up to meet him for another kiss, tilting her head to let him trail kisses down her neck. His fingers pluck at her shirt, drawing it up and over her. 

“I missed this,” she says as she makes slow work of his buttons, pressing her lips each time to his chest as the shirt parts. 

“I missed you.” Something in his voice causes her to pull back, just far enough that she can catch his gaze with her own. He cups her jaw, his fingers tracing nonsensical patterns across the side of her neck. “I missed you,” he tells her again, sucking in a sharp breath when Sloane takes one of his hands in her own and kisses his palm. 

“Then let’s make up for lost time, then, hmm?” Unbuttoning the cuffs at his wrists, she pushes the shirt from his shoulders. With the wide expanse of his chest on display, Sloane can’t help but skim her lips across the warm skin. Goosebumps follow in her wake, the fine hairs on his stomach raising as she moves her mouth lower and lower. Ethan makes a strangled noise when her touch sweeps down to his belt. She unfastens the buckle and pops the button on his slacks, her curious hand dipping down to take hold of him. 

Her name is a curse on his lips, hissed under his breath as he grips her shoulders; his fingers are ten points of heat, marking her pale skin and spurring her on. Twisting her hand just so, she grazes a fingernail down and across the head. A groan rumbles out of his chest. He moves to sink his grip into her hair and tugs, tilting her head back so he can meet her for a rough kiss. 

It’s another long minute before they pull apart for air. Ethan brushes the loose strands of her hair back behind her ear, his thumb sweeping back and forth across her cheekbone. Catching his hand, she pulls him down onto the bed with her. 

They strip away everything else, until it’s only them and their shared heat, their bodies moving against each other as they map out old trails across familiar skin. There are sentences, speeches and conversations hidden in the languid touches and heady kisses, a shared language that lets them say what their mouths won’t -- not now, not when everything is just falling into place again. 

“Come here,” she beckons and he goes, crawling up to her and grinning when he slows down the progress by nipping at her shoulder, causing her to laugh as she moves him into place. The wooden slats of her headboard are cool against his back, evident in the way he shivers. 

All of his attention is on her, though; those potent eyes of his open and alert, tracking her movement as she straddles his thighs. Then she sinks down, rocking her hips against his, and she revels in watching those eyes clench shut. His mouth falls open with a ragged sigh and his hands latch onto her waist. She takes one of his hands and drags it down her body, suppressing her own shiver when Ethan chuckles at her insistence. 

“I don’t remember you being this bossy,” he murmurs against her chest, where he’s making lazy circles with his tongue across her tightened nipple. 

Sloane starts to serve him a clever comeback, but he chooses right then to put his hand to work, the bastard, so the only sound she can respond with is a whine. She can feel the smirk on his face as he circles where she needs him most. 

“Stop teas--” she cuts herself off with her own strangled moan when he slips two fingers inside her. Pushing up onto her knees, she spreads her thighs, humming in appreciation when Ethan correctly reads into the movement. His touch goes deeper, his fingers gently thrusting in and out as his thumb rubs quick circles against her clit. “Oh, god, keep going. Don’t stop, keep--”

“There’s not a force on this earth that would make me stop,” he says, his voice gone deep with hunger. His cock is a heavy weight against her belly. “Not when I’ve got you like this.” He punctuates his sentence with a twist of his fingers, moving in tandem with his lips on her breast -- and here, here she could fall apart only by his touch and his voice. 

But that isn’t how she wants to go. 

“I think you’re mistaken,” she tells him, clearing her throat when the words seem to get all tangled up. 

He hums in curiosity, pulling off her breast with a wet pop. Then: another hum, this time tinged with confusion when she pulls up and away out of his touch. 

“Are you all right? Did I hurt--” 

She stifles his worries with a finger to his lips. Dipping down, she gives him a kiss of assurance, using her finger to drag at his bottom lip until he opens for her again. And then, with her clever distraction at play, takes both of his hands in hers. 

“I’m the one who’s got you,” she grins, bringing his hands up and curling them up around the thin wooden slat next to his head. 

A warm shot of pleasure soaks her insides when his gaze scans over her, as if deciding if he wants to play into her game. His answer comes when his fingers clench tight around the wood. 

“It appears you do.” And if his words are a little too wistful for what the moments calls for, when he’s looking at her like that and her body is singing for release, she doesn’t mention it. Between the two of them, they have plenty they need to unpack -- but it’ll happen naturally, this time. Because they have it, which is a luxury Sloane never could bring herself to hope for, before the hearing. 

“Rookie?” Ethan asks, his fingers flexing around her headboard, as if suppressing the need to reach out to her.

She pulls herself out of her own head with a toss of her hair. Reaching down, she takes hold of him and lowers herself down, taking him slowly, filling herself up with him. That pleasure swells when she glances up to see Ethan watching her. His breath escapes him in hurried pants as she moves, rocking her hips down and arching her back. Her fingernails dig into the dewy sweat that covers his shoulders, slick heat under her palm. 

The wood in his hands creaks under the strain. 

“Let me touch you,” he begs into the little space between them, then again, muffled against her lips when she tilts his head up for a wet kiss. He thrusts into her, matching the rhythm she’s created. 

“You are.” 

He meets her next kiss with a growl, breaking it off to nip at her jaw. 

“Let me have you,” he demands instead, working his hips faster into her and driving himself right where she wants him most. The idea of the rest of him wrapped around her isn’t such a bad one, then. 

She puts her hands on his and the signal is loud and clear. In the span of a second, he’s gripping her waist and circling his hips and she’s grinding down onto him, desperate for a release that seems to always be just out of reach, as if she’s trying to hold a fistful of sand.    

Then: his touch, slipping down to where they’re joined and rubbing against her bundle of nerves; and then: neon, every color known to science exploding at the corners of her vision, a brilliant burst of technicolor that drowns out everything else. The lines of her body go taut, rigid with her orgasm as marrow-deep pleasure knocks into her. 

Beneath her, Ethan is cursing and crying her name as their bodies jerk and tremble. They collapse into each other, somehow, their sweaty palms sliding along skin to soothe and calm. Color is soon replaced by shadow, as Sloane settles down against his side and tries in vain to stay awake. She blinks once, twice, and then the shadows melt away as sleep takes their place. 

+

She’s warm. 

It’s the first thing she takes note of when she wakes up, the blanket tucked between her legs and pillowed under her head. The comforting weight around her waist shifts. Another warmth tickles at her chest -- his thumb, she realizes, brushing along the curve of her breast. Sloane opens her eyes, preparing to roll over into Ethan’s embrace. 

“Fuck!” she hisses at the bright sunlight that seeps through the curtains. Grabbing the blanket, she flings it off and untangles herself from its hold. “Did you hear them come home last night?” 

Mentally crossing her fingers, she whirls to face him, cursing her luck when she realizes that it’s all she’s going to get of him this morning: a gorgeous eyeful, before she has to put clothes on and go find Sienna and admit that yes, she was a shitty friend who chose getting laid over putting her new bed together, and yes, that’s right, she already had the air mattress deflated to have room for said new bed, and was her night on the couch comfy at all? 

“Yes,” he grumbles, propping himself up on his elbow to watch her. “They all came back around four a.m. Very loud and very drunk, I might add.” When she continues searching the floor in lieu of responding to his complaints, he continues. “Do you have somewhere to be? You’re scheduled off today, you know.” 

“Yes, I know.” Failing to locate her clothes from last night, Sloane rushes over to her dresser and yanks open a drawer. “I requested off because I thought I would be crafting furniture until the wee hours. Not sleeping off an orgasm.” 

Ethan makes a face at the wee hours phrase, then makes another -- much, much different -- face at the mention of sex. And then he laughs at her. 

She pauses, gripping her Oxford University shirt with the fist she wants to knock against his shoulder. 

“Why are you laughing at me?”  

He throws back the sheets and pats the empty space next to him. 

“Come back to bed.” 

“I can’t. Her room is still a mess and it’s her birthday and I feel terrible. I’m going to--”

“Sloane,” he sighs, affection working its way through his expression as he smiles. “It’s done. Come back to bed.”

She doesn’t, but she does stop putting her clothes on.  

“What do you mean?” 

“What I said. It’s done.” At her noise of frustration, he finally gives up on messing with her and lays it out. “I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. I thought about waking you up for another round, but I know you don’t get enough sleep as you should, so I tired myself out by building her bed. I even figured out the mattress-in-a-box thing and put on those Pepto-pink sheets. So, like I said before: it’s done.” 

All the anxiety floats out of her at his words. “And,” he shrugs, “I felt bad for leaving her room like that, even though your distraction was the reason for its state.” 

She tries not to play into his barb, but she can’t resist it -- as is her struggle with all things Ethan Ramsey. 

“Oh, I was the distraction? Need I remind you who kissed who first?” 

“Sure,” he agrees, settling her against him as she climbs back onto the bed. “Refresh my memory.”

+ + +

Author’s notes and general what-have-yous: 

“Nothing worthwhile is” quote is from Uncharted 4. Step 2 and Step 3 are separate tests that medical students take for the U.S. Medical Licensing Examination. 

Originally, this was going to be a ‘stuck in an elevator’ fic but then I wanted a little more space for them to move about (both figuratively and literally). And sex in a hospital elevator is questionable at best and illegal at worst.

Also, in my playthrough, MC convinces Farley to give them the apartment by using the ‘other renters are communists’ option, hence the Back in the USSR joke here. Which makes it less funny to explain, but I wanted to avoid the confusion. 

[pftones3482]

I Think I Love You

Commission for @kriss-the-writing-nerd

Have all my commissions this week ended in wedding scenes? Yes. Do I care? No. Am I a sap at heart? Debatable. Under a cut for length. Enjoy!

~~

“I got you a present.”

Keith blinked rapidly, moving his tired eyes away from the paperwork he was going over and looking up at Lance. He was shifting from foot to foot in Keith’s doorway, holding a box in his hands so delicately that, were it not Lance, Keith might have thought it was a bomb. 

He was wearing pajamas, sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. The marks on his cheeks were glowing very faintly. In the light it might not have been noticeable, but it was late, so they were sparkling. It was a precious sight, one that made Keith’s heart flutter, but he forced his attention back to Lance and set down his reports from his mother.

“Why?”

Lance frowned, his hands dropping a little. “Well it…you and Hunk were off-world for your birthdays. I already gave Hunk his present, so I…I mean, it’s not really anything amazing, I made it, I just thought-”

“You didn’t have to do anything for that,” Keith said, soft. His lips parted and he glanced down at the box. His cheeks warmed a little. Obviously it wasn’t something special; he’d gotten Hunk a gift too, it wasn’t a Keith exclusive thing, but it didn’t stop the affection from rising in Keith’s chest nonetheless.

Lance stepped inside fully now, walking over to Keith’s bed and sitting gingerly on the edge like he was afraid Keith might kick him out. “Yes I did,” he snorted, pressing the box into Keith’s hands unceremoniously. “Like I said, it’s…nit’s nothing special. But I thought you might like it.”

Curious now, Keith untied the (red) ribbon from the package and set it on top of the reports. The flaps opened easily enough, and inside, nestled in (black) tissue paper, was a mason jar full of bright red jam. A piece of twine was wrapped around it, and dangling from the twine was a tiny wooden knife that was shaped suspiciously like Keith’s blade.

He pulled the jar out carefully, eyeing the label – strawberry rhubarb – and then fingering the knife, about the size of a butter knife. “You…made this?”

Lance’s cheeks were pink, his marks a little brighter. “Um…yeah? We make a lot of stuff o-on the farm, and I’m pretty good at jam, so I-”

“No, no,” Keith breathed. He looked up, eyes wide. “I mean, yes, that’s amazing, I haven’t had strawberries in forever and I’m sure the jam is…is amazing. I meant the knife.”

Lance’s tongue peeked out quickly as he licked his lips, so fast Keith barely caught it. It made his heart hammer. “Um…yeah. I uh…it’s something I picked up in my spare time. After everything. Woodworking is…relaxing. You can use it too, it’s meant to spread the jam.”

“It looks like mine.”

Lance’s smile was crooked, the glint in his eyes mischievous. “I know. Krolia helped me perfect it.”

Keith’s eyebrows shot up. “She was in on it? Dammit, Mom.”

Lance laughed and stood, twisting the hem of his shirt in his hands and nodding at the door. “I should uh…I should let you get back to your reports,” he said, eyes flickering to the paperwork on the bed. “Night, Keith.”

Keith realized with a start that Lance was already stepping out the door. “Lance!” he piped, a little too loud. If he hadn’t had any remaining dignity, he might have slapped his hand over his mouth. Lance turned back, eyebrows lifted, and Keith sheepishly held up the jar. “Thank you.”

He poured as much sincerity as he could into the words and Lance’s shoulders drooped a little – whether in relief or disappointment, Keith wasn’t sure. “Of course.”

Lance shut the door softly as he walked out, leaving Keith with a jar of jam and a pounding heart.

~~

“Surprise!”

Keith was lucky Lance wasn’t holding a knife. As it was, he whipped around, pinning the taller man to the wall in one swift move, arm pressed firmly against his throat and his other hand shoved against his cheek.

Dead silence, and then, slowly, Matt turned the living room light on. Keith held up his hands in slow surrender and Lance immediately dropped his stance, face shifting from pissed to surprised to sheepish. “Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Keith settled his hand on his throat, trying not to wince at the ache Lance had left. “Yeah, well…our fault.”

Lance finally turned around, his eyes widening and hands flying up to cover his mouth as he finally spotted the rest of the group, holding presents and cake. A “Congratulations!” banner dangled precariously from where Matt and Shiro had hung it over the dining room entrance. “What the quiznak?” he whispered.

Curtis’ smile was boyish, eyes twinkling as he slapped a manila envelope into Lance’s hands. “Lance Sanchez, you have been officially accepted to the Garrison as the new flight instructor for middle and high school students.”

Lance closed his hands around the folder in a daze, staring down at the envelope, at his name, and then back up at Shiro and Curtis. “I…I put in the application last week. Please don’t tell me you guys fast tracked it, I-”

Shiro set his hand firmly on Lance’s shoulder. “Of course not, Lance. But you’re an incredible pilot, you’ve flown in battle more than anyone outside of this room, and you’re great with kids. It was a no brainer. Iverson agreed.”

Curtis’ lips twitched. “He seemed peeved that he agreed.”

The group burst into laughter but Lance just stared down at the envelope, his lips parted in soft wonder. “Wow. Wow, I…wait, how long have you guys been planning this?” he demanded.

Pidge shrugged, finally setting down the cake Hunk had made her hold. “Just this afternoon. Shiro texted the rest of us after lunch, and Keith had pretty much all of this ready by the time we got here.”

Lance turned slowly to Keith, who was smiling sheepishly. “Weren’t you off world this week?”

Keith waved his hand in a so-so motion. “For a while. I was just on Mars, though, so I wasn’t far. Plus you leave your spare key in the same place all the time. It’s not hard to get in.”

“Yeah you really need a security upgrade,” Krolia agreed.

Lance looked back down at the envelope and Keith studied him, watched the way his fingers shook, how his throat bobbed. His teeth bit into his lip, smile starting to form, and then his whole body shuddered with a laugh. “Wow,” he croaked. “Um…um, when do I start?”

Shiro tilted his head in acknowledgement. “This fall, with the incoming class. It’ll give me and Iverson time to go over teaching regimens and planning with you before your first students. But hey, you’re basically famous. They’ll listen to you,” the man said, winking.

“Now come on, you guys,” Coran whined. “I’ve been smelling this quiznaking cake of Hunk’s all day, I would LIKE to eat it!”

Hunk whooped, scooped up the cake Pidge had abandoned, and led the group to the kitchen. Lance caught Keith’s sleeve as he passed, pulling him back. “You did all this…for me?” Lance whispered, searching Keith’s face carefully.

Keith forced himself not to react beyond a soft smile. Lance’s fingers burned through the fabric of his shirt. “Of course. You deserved it, you idiot. You put in so much work, and I – we all know how much you wanted this.”

Lance’s eyes flickered to where Shiro was handing Hunk a knife. “I feel like…I feel like I didn’t earn it,” he said, even softer.

Keith turned to block his vision of the others. Emotions be damned, he reached out and grabbed Lance’s hand by the fingers. He squeezed. “If anyone deserves it, it’s you,” he murmured, waiting until Lance looked at him again before speaking. “You helped save the planet, you lost people really close to you, you-”

“That happened to you guys, too,” Lance protested. He slid his hand away from Keith’s and pulled it to his chest, curling his free one over it. “I wasn’t the only one.”

Keith tilted his head. “Yeah,” he admitted. “It did happen to us. But we all have what we want.”

He laughed, glancing back at the dining room, where Pidge was now arguing with Hunk about whatever piece of cake she was getting. “Pidge got her family back and is working intergalactically with some of the smartest beings we’ve ever met. Hunk is a galaxies wide famous chef and diplomat. Shiro and Curtis are married and travelling the world helping at risk LGBT kids and also teaching in their spare time. Coran got his home planet back and is happy with Iverson – as totally weird as I find that. You absolutely deserve this.”

“What about you?”

Keith started, looking back at Lance in surprise. He was staring at him curiously, shaggy hair hanging in his eyes. “What?”

He shrugged. “What about you? You named everyone else. What about you? Did you get what you wanted?”

His eyes swam with the depths of the oceans, glinted with the reaches of the stars. His skin was warm, this close, and being this near him, being here, ached. Ached beyond words. Keith felt his mouth go dry and his heart race. He looked back to the dining room. Shiro and Krolia were speaking now, soft, watching him worriedly. He gave them a tentative smile before turning back. “I uh…yeah. Yeah. I got my mom. I have Shiro. I…”

He trailed off, fumbling for the words. Refused to let the wrong ones slip from his lips. He couldn’t. He couldn’t lose him. “I have you guys,” he finally settled on, offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I got…a family I never had. Friends I never had. I work with an amazing group of aliens. I…yeah.”

His stomach rolled as Lance’s head tilted in a miniscule way. “Friends, hmm?” he said.

And he was smiling, but there was something there, something Keith couldn’t place even while he nodded. “Yeah. You guys are pretty okay, most of the time,” he tried to tease.

Lance’s lips whitened as he pressed them together, nodding. “Okay,” he hummed. “Thanks, Keith.”

He brushed past him, and Keith was left feeling like he’d messed everything up.

~~

“You okay?”

Keith looked up as Pidge sat down next to him, her hands fidgeting with a piece of tech that Keith was sure he couldn’t even begin to understand. He hummed and looked back out over the Altean juniberry fields, watching as Hunk and Lance chased Lance’s niece and nephew through the flowers. It was their first visit to Altea, Christmas 4 years after the war, and they had asked Keith to join them on their trip.

He’d declined, preferring to watch from a distance. Being around Lance…hurt, sometimes. Especially on Altea. Especially on the holidays.

“You got it bad, huh?”

Keith choked on air, looking sideways at Pidge through the fringe of hair in his eyes. Her smile was sympathetic but her eyes glimmered with mirth. “What?” he managed.

Pidge shrugged, setting her tech aside and crossing her legs under her. Her green sweater looked ridiculously comfortable. “Come on, I’m ace, not blind,” she said with a roll of her eyes. A pause, and then she tapped her glasses frames. “Though I guess you could argue that point. You’re crushing so hard on Lance it’s kind of disgusting.”

Keith’s gut rolled and he looked down, fingers tightening on each other. He hadn’t told anyone but Shiro about his crush, though he knew that Krolia had seen some of the flashbacks of him crushing on the space whale. She’d never brought it up, and Shiro had stopped asking unless Keith spoke first. It was somewhat uncomfortable, hearing it from someone else. Like he was creepy and just…just wrong.

“Hey.”

He swallowed and let his gaze flicker back to Pidge, who was watching him with open concern. She scooted closer, bumping their knees and leaning on him. He sighed and edged his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his body and pressing a soft kiss to her head. “Yeah,” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

Keith’s heart lurched in his chest as he watched Lance tackle Nadia and hold her down, tickling her sides until she shrieked. His smile was wide. “Yeah.”

His breathing stuttered and Pidge lifted her hand, twining their fingers together. “So talk. To him.”

Keith shook his head once, his cheek scratching against Pidge’s scruffy hair. “I don’t…I don’t want to ruin what we have. I’d rather…”

He sighed and dropped his forehead against Pidge’s hair. She hummed, the sound vibrating her whole body, and tightened her grip on his hand. “You’d rather keep what you have and hurt yourself than lose him all together. Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Pidge nodded and then twisted, climbing into his lap. She was much bigger now than she had been during Voltron times, but she still fit comfortably against Keith’s chest, lanky arms curling around his torso and nose tucked against his neck. “Talk to him,” she said again, softer. “I promise you it’ll be okay.”

Keith hugged her back, feeling like his entire heart was going to be ripped from his chest. “You can’t possibly know that,” he said, still tracking Lance and Hunk’s escapades through the flower fields.

“I can. I’m a genius, remember?”

At Keith’s scoff, she pulled back from their hug, looking up at Keith with a smile. “Hey. Man, I’m like, the least sappy person I know aside from maybe you. But you’ve been so gooey the last couple months it’s driving me nuts. He totally likes you, you’re blind not to see it.”

She tapped her glasses again. “And I’m blind. I’d know.”

Keith snorted and shifted his legs until Pidge’s back was against his chest, his arms settled loosely over her hips and his chin on her head. She fiddled with the cuffs of his red Christmas sweater Hunk had gotten him. “I won’t push you,” she said, her voice lost to the wind. “But think about it, okay?”

“You didn’t hang mistletoe up in the house, did you?” he asked, a warning tone in his voice. “I know you were helping Coran decorate.”

“Oh we totally did,” Pidge confirmed, laughter in her words. “But it’s mostly just plastered around Shiro and Curtis’ room. You didn’t answer me.”

Keith fell silent, tightening his grip on her and sighing. “I…I’ll think about it,” he finally agreed.

Pidge leaned back against him, warm and smelling like fire and cinnamon. “Thanks,” Keith mumbled after a moment. “For not…”

“I’d never,” and her voice was the most serious he’d heard it in a long time. “Never. That’s for you. When you’re ready.”

Down in the field, Lance looked up, face lighting up when he saw the two of them cuddling on the hillside. He lifted his hand and waved like a maniac. Pidge snickered and waved back, elbowing Keith until he lifted a tentative hand too. “You’re in love with such a dork, you know that?”

His smile came unbidden. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

~~

Lance found Keith on the roof of the family barn, watching the stars as if he hadn’t spent the last six – or 8, depending on how you looked at it – years flying through them. He climbed the trellis up, getting a glance at his approach, and sank down next to him, wrapping his arms around his knees. For a while they sat in silence, listening the wind coil around them and the crickets chirping in the distance.

“You’re going soon, then?”

Keith had been on planet for the last several weeks, since Easter, and all Lance knew was that he wasn’t staying at the farm forever. Which…part of him kind of wanted him to, even though he knew that Keith was doing important missionary work on other planets.

“Mm-hmm.”

Lance hesitated. When it came to Keith, he was at a loss. Hunk usually needed cuddling and hugs and long talks to work out his problems. Pidge used the rubber duck solution for scientific problems and quiet cuddling for emotional ones. Allura had been a mixture.

But Keith…was a mystery. Lance knew he openly talked about his feelings with Shiro and sometimes Pidge or Krolia, but never him. It stung, in a way. But it didn’t mean he was going to stop trying.

“Are you okay?”

Keith drew his knees closer to his mouth. Lance stayed quiet, knowing that sometimes pestering didn’t help people talk. He kept his eyes off him, too, watching only from his peripheral. Keith opened his mouth once, twice, closed it again and kept it shut. After a long, agonizing few minutes, he finally spoke.

“Do you ever feel…” Keith faltered, fingers physically opening and closing to find the word. “Like you’re not…I don’t know, in the right place?”

Lance tilted his head, leaning it on his knees. “Mentally or physically?”

Keith kept his eyes turned to the sky. “Maybe both?”

“Mm, yeah, sometimes. I think everyone does. Do you���feel that way?” he asked, trying not to pry too deep.

Keith’s lips pursed and Lance found himself tracing the shape of them with his eyes while he waited. “Kind of,” Keith said, licking his lips. “I…I love what I do. I love the people we help. But lately I’ve…”

He trailed off, and with a tug on his heart, Lance realized he was crying. He sat upright, eyes wide and mouth falling a little, but forced himself not to move. “You?”

Keith’s chin quivered. “I feel like…” His voice cracked. “I guess I’m homesick. But I don’t…I don’t even know what to call home. If it exists.”

His whole body shook and it took everything in Lance’s willpower to not scoot over and hug him until he couldn’t breathe. “My mom is…she’s so important to me. And I love her. And I feel at home with her. But it’s not…I lied. To you.”

Lance’s heart skipped. “What?”

“Last year, when you got the job,” Keith whimpered, pressing his hands to his face, and everything be damned, Lance scooted closer. “I told you…I told you I had what I wanted. I lied. I don’t know what I want, I just know that I want-”

He cut himself off, wary, eyed Lance like he was afraid he would laugh. His cheeks were red, Lance assumed from crying. “I want more,” he croaked out, voice wavering.

Lance let himself move in, wrapped Keith in the tightest hug he could muster. “That’s okay,” he whispered, carding his fingers through his hair as Keith clung to him. He swallowed, shutting his eyes. “You don’t have to know. It’s okay.”

“Please don’t leave,” Keith pleaded, his grip tight on Lance’s shoulders. “Please.”

Lance’s heart lurched and if he could have physically held Keith closer, he would have. “I won’t. Quiznak, of course I won’t, dude. You’re- you always have a home here. I promise.”

Holding Keith, listening to his shaking sobs and watching him break into pieces, Lance realized with a clarity he hadn’t had in a long time that at some point during the last five years, he’d fallen head over heels for the original red paladin.

~~

“I think I love you. I think…I think I love you. I love you. I think-”

“Lance! Come on, ten minutes until the march!”

Lance huffed and pressed his hands against the wall on either side of the mirror. His reflection stared back at him, slicked back hair, dark blue tie and black suit, a shockingly pretty orange rose pinned to his lapel. “Yup. Yup, I’m coming Hunk.”

The door opened behind him and Lance met Hunk’s eye in the mirror. Matching suit, though with a yellow tie, hair pulled back into a ponytail. He eyed him, frowning. “You okay dude?”

Lance rubbed a hand over his jaw, pushing away from the wall. “I don’t know. I want…I don’t know.”

Hunk shut the door behind him slowly, leaning against it and studying Lance. “It’s not the wedding, is it?”

Lance shook his head. “No, but you’re right, we have to get out there for the march. I can deal with it later. This isn’t the place.”

“For what?”

Hunk moved aside as Lance grabbed the doorknob. He didn’t turn it though, just held it. Pondering. “I want to tell him,” he said quietly.

Hunk was silent for a second. “Oh. Oh my god, dude, yes!”

“But I don’t…I don’t know how. And I shouldn’t…I really shouldn’t do it here. Not at a wedding, I mean, that seems super selfish, right, that’s selfish? That’s totally selfish, I couldn’t do that to Coran, I-”

“Bro,” Hunk chuckled, gripping his shoulders gently. “No, it’s not. I mean, okay maybe if you do it during the ceremony or make a big deal out of it, but you’re not gonna do that. It’ll be fine. I’ll be here the whole time, so will Pidge, and Shiro, everyone. You got this.”

Shay popped her head in the room, lifting an eyebrow. “If you two are done, you are two of the main four stars of this show, and we would LOVE for you to be out there.”

“Sarcastic much, babe?”

“It seems to be the easiest way to get humans to actually do things.”

“Touché.”

~~

Lance wasn’t sure how Alteans did weddings, but Coran’s vows were LONG as HELL. And then Iverson’s were just as long, and weirdly sappy (the man had grown on Lance a lot since his original Garrison days, but he was still a scary dude when he needed to be, so this was just a whole change of pace). The reception afterwards was lovely. Lance ate, avoided Keith, danced some more, drank way too much, and towards the end of the night downed his last glass of wine and stumbled outside.

“You’re not driving, are you?”

He turned to find Keith sitting there, red tie loose around his neck and jacket crumpled next to him. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, which Lance found unfairly hot. “Because I can drive you home, if you need.”

Lance shook his head, stumbling and sitting next to Keith with minimal falling. “No. No, I’m not…no driving. I’m not…I’m not stupid. I mean I am but like…not like that.”

Keith’s lips twitched in amusement. The air around them was cold, and it was helping to dull the alcohol in Lance’s system, easing the slight throbbing in his head. “You okay?” he asked. He was warm as hell.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Keith assured him. “A lot of people. I was getting overstimulated.”

Lance frowned, furrowing his eyebrows. “I can go.”

“No,” Keith said, quick. He flushed at Lance’s curious gaze and shrugged, glancing away. “You’re fine. It’s not bad when it’s someone I…I mean…”

“I think I love you.”

Lance’s eyebrows furrowed as Keith whipped his head around, mouth gaping like a fish, until his words caught up with his brain. He clapped a hand over his mouth, swallowing. “S-Sorry, sorry, shit, that’s not-”

“Lance.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, hand still on his face. The world felt like it was spinning around him, suffocating him. He couldn’t breathe. Keith’s voice was gentle when he spoke. “Lance, are you just that drunk? Or-?”

The second time was easier. “I love you,” Lance breathed, letting his hands fall into his lap and his eyes open. He stared at the pavement, his mouth dry. “I wanted to tell you…for a while. But I…it was never the right time.”

A pause. “How long?” Keith asked, soft.

Lance licked his lips. “Thinking back on it? Since I almost got sucked out into space through the air lock. That’s…I mean, that’s when it started. It didn’t really hit me until a couple months ago.”

Silence. Lance shut his eyes again. “I’m sorry, I made it weird, I-”

“You didn’t make anything weird, Lance,” Keith whispered, and his voice was closer now. Lance cracked an eye open to see Keith facing him, a knee dragged up under him on the bench. His hands settled on Lance’s leg. “You have…no idea how long I’ve loved you.”

A breath that Lance didn’t know he’d been holding shuddered out of him and he surged forwards, hand sliding up Keith’s jaw and tangling in his hair, dragging his lips against his and trying to remember how to breathe through his nose as they kissed.

Keith’s fingers closed around Lance’s tie, tugging him closer, until he was practically sitting in Keith’s lap on the tiny bench. He gasped into his mouth, pulling back, and Lance blinked twice, dragging a thumb over Keith’s skin to swipe at a tear. “What’s wrong?” he whispered, anxiety settling in his gut.

Keith huffed a laugh, letting his forehead fall to Lance’s shoulder, hands moving to cradle him in a hug. “I’ve just wanted this for so long. It doesn’t feel like…like it’s real.”

Lance reached back and tangled their fingers together, pulling Keith’s right hand up to his chest and settling it over his pounding heart. “It’s real. I promise you, I’m real. This is real.”

He pressed a soft kiss to Keith’s forehead. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Keith snorted. “Me too.”

“Wanna get out of here?”

“Absolutely.”

[fandom-necromancer]

699. Let’s drink wine and trash-talk our co-workers.

Shoutout to the beautiful anon prompting this! I really enjoyed this!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

part 2

'Hey, man, how about we go out drinking tonight?' Nines sighed, filing away the rest of the papers holding their last successfully closed case. 'You know? To celebrate.' Nines knocked the papers on the table twice to align them, then stared over at Gavin. 'I can't drink, detective, as I told you repeatedly.' 'Oh, but you can!', Gavin was quick to deliver. 'And no, I don't mean your thirium replacement. They developed alcohol for androids.' Nines pushed the pages in their folder and pressed it shut, talking to Gavin in a tone that basically screamed at him how utterly disinterested he was. 'They have? So what? Why should I willingly intoxicate my otherwise flawless systems?' 'Well...' one could nearly hear the gears turning in Gavin’s head. 'For once you would get to see me doing dumb shit?' 'I get to see that every day.' 'Oh come on, dude, really?' But there was a smile on the android’s face, something that told the human to go on.

'Okay, let's say it's for science? Come on, this is pretty new still and I doubt Connor to go drinking. Maybe you are the first RK to test it. Aren't you curious?' 'Well, you certainly are', the android mumbled. 'But fine. The prospect of seeing you lose even more control over your bodily functions could be entertaining. Also, this way I can make sure you get home safely.' Gavin looked at him pleadingly. 'Ugh, fine, I'll try the drinks, okay? Though I doubt their effectiveness.'

 Two hours after their shift had ended, they had changed into more comfortable clothes and driven to a local bar, sat down at a table and ordered their drinks. A glass of wine was sat in front of Gavin as he wanted to “keep it classy”; Nines got a glass full of an iced blue liquid, the exact shade of thirium, but with a few swirls of something he couldn't analyse, not until he would swallow some. Gavin grinned at him, lifting his drink in a toast: 'To another asshole put behind bars for a looong time! Let's drink wine and trash-talk our co-workers!'

Nines let their two glasses hit between them, then hesitated before taking a sip. His eyes went wide as he realised what it contained. He had thought of some chemical added, unsure how that was supposed to do anything, when thirium was basically just a cooling agent. But no, this pseudo-alcohol consisted of nano-machines solved in the thirium that were now quickly spreading in his body. Immediately his defence-systems sprung to action, eliminating one of the little bots after the next without a sweat. Weird. This wasn't even a real attack. It was like popping bubble-wrap, not like fending off a threat. That was when he realised that was probably the intended effect. Humans had their kidneys to clean their blood, androids would have to do it manually. Deciding it would be a waste of money to destroy these machines when they were the desired equivalent to ethanol, he let them fare as they wanted and although not realising it yet, Nines understood what could happen would he have one too many drinks. This could get interesting.

~

‘You know… Chris alwayssssteals the restroom-soap in the lobby.’ ‘No!’, Nines exclaimed shocked and blown away of his co-worker’s behaviour. ‘He does!’, Gavin underlined his statement again and grinned at the androids openly perplexed face. ‘Why di… did you never tell anyone?’ The two had lost count of the number of drinks they had, not that it mattered. The nano-machines were interfering with Nines’ body in more than one way: he felt light-headed, had problems accessing his walking program and his thoughts ran in weird directions. But thankfully, Gavin was in the same situation. He leaned in far enough so that Nines could practically taste the alcohol in his breath. Could. When he got rid of the little bugs hiding it from him. ‘Blackmail’, Gavin lulled smirking at him. ‘How come you nnnever realised it? You got the all-seeing-eyes!’ ‘I… concentrate on my job for once.’ His voice was laced with static and words were hard. At the same time he wanted to talk more than usually in a sober state. ‘And frankly I don’t produce biowaste so no need to use the restrooms.’ ‘Asshole.’ ‘Sssstop it with the-‘ His voice box broke off with a few cracks then it reactivated. ‘the damn compliments.’

‘Ah, next time we shoulda invite Tina’, Gavin laughed. ‘Gurl knows EVERYTHING!’ ‘Seriously, how do you know that much about our co-workers?’ ‘Years of observation, my friend’, Gavin proudly pushed out his chest and weirdly everything Nines could think of at that view was chicken. ‘Okay, so what you have of Hank?’, he shook his weird imagery off. ‘Wanna embarrass Con?’ ‘Ecssssactly.’ ‘Cheated on all his tests in the academy. Not like he didn’t have the brains to do it, just liked havin’ fun more than study. Always passed, too. Asshole.’ ‘You were there together?’ ‘Hmm?’ ‘You and Hank?’ ‘Nah, but I have my sources… Wait. What about Connor? He got any weaknesses? Never found out anything. And damn I don’t wanna end up drooling on the floor again.’

Nines laughed and hollered: ‘That must have been a sight to behold. And I missed it!’ He shook his head. ‘He likes dogs’, he then replied smiling fondly, everything suddenly getting very, very heavy. ‘Pretends to like Hanks music but really doesn’t. I like it though.’ ‘Never pegged you for the heavy metal kind. Always thought classical bullshit was your thingy.’ ‘It is, too.’

‘Okay, what I always wanted to ask: How are you guys? I mean, probably weird because android n stuff, but he your parent or what?’ ‘I see him as a mentor. Although I can’t speak for Connor. Even I sometimes have problems figuring it out. ‘ ‘And… does he like me? I mean like, you and me….’ He gestured a bit with his hands without talking. Then suddenly realised his words and added: ‘Working together! You and me working together, haha…’ Nines was too intoxicated for him picking up on it. ‘He fucking hates you!’, he answered wheezing, and a bit later added a bit louder than necessary: ‘Hey, I said fuck!’ ‘Congra… Congratu… Happy phcking birthday, toaster, now you’re an adult.’ ‘I fucking love this. Normally my programming filters it out. Being impolite and imperfect and so on. Fuck. Shit. Fucking shit-‘ ‘Toaster.’ Nines looked up at Gavin’s face expectantly. The blue hue that had spread on his cheeks was just too cute for Gavin to immediately continue. ‘Wanna do… something reeeally stupid?’ ‘You know what? Yes. Never done something stupid before. Let’s do it. What are you thinking of?’ ‘Let’s go and egg Hank’s house.’ ‘Hell yes let’s fucking do it!’, Nines cried out enthusiastically despite having no clue what it meant. His research function was inaccessible.

They had stopped at a local supermarket, the underpaid cashier not caring enough to stop two drunks buying several crates of eggs at 11pm. Then they walked their way over to Hank’s house, what should have taken them an hour twenty-five but seemed to be far less. Nines didn’t know whether his internal clock was malfunctioning, or he simply didn’t remember ordering an automated car and frankly he didn’t care. What was important was that they stood in front of the house, eggs in hand and eyeing the windows as well as the other houses. ‘So what do we do?’, Nines asked. ‘We simply throw them?’ ‘Yeah. Throw as many as possible without getting caught!’

Maybe the little machines now attacked some part of his deviancy, because suddenly that order was burned inside his mind, the red text being the only thing that mattered. And he wouldn’t be a military grade android, the best ever created, if he failed his mission now. ‘We get a strategic advantage standing over there’, he pointed at a few bushes at a corner. ‘An easy way of retreat with optimal throwing distance.’ ‘Nice! Then let’s do this!’ With amazingly accurate aim for a drunk man, Gavin threw the first egg. It hit the wall and broke with a disgusting wet sound Nines heard weirdly amplified. But he just took out the first of his own and threw it in a perfectly calculated arch. One after the next smacking wetly against the walls and Nines kept the last bit of attention on his environmental scanner. As one of his projectiles wasn’t hitting the intended target and broke on the window, a bit of the shell still sticking to the egg and slowly descending to the ground now, the light inside was switched on suddenly.

Nines detected vibrations of someone standing up in the ground and was immensely thankful some of the more integral soldier-programs where specially protected. Quickly he took Gavin by the arm and pulled him with him into the bushes, the rest of their eggs falling to the ground. Surprisingly for his inebriated state, Gavin got the signal and started running next to him, half stumbling through the woods. Halfway through the human started giggling madly and although Nines knew they should probably stay silent, he couldn’t help himself but start laughing himself. That just made matters worse as it seemed, as Gavin stopped and fell on his back, all the while continuing to laugh.

‘Ah, shit, toaster, hadn’t had such fun in a long time!’ ‘It’s still interesting what you humans do for fun, but I think I get it?’ ‘Damn, I love you.’ Maybe the adrenaline had made him sober up a bit, because he looked up to him shocked upon his slipped words. But if he was sober, Nines definitely wasn’t until he decided to become. He just smiled. ‘Damn, I love you, too, Gav. No other moron would see me and think “yeah, let’s get drunk with a war machine and be idiots together.’ ‘You do?’ It was uttered in such disbelief that Nines started neutralising the bots in his systems. He shrugged. ‘Yes? I think so? I just never said anything. Didn’t know whether you would be open to that and I thought it would be better to not risk what we’ve built together.’ Gavin let his head fall to the ground, looking up to the treetops. ‘Same here, but not as eloquent’, he mumbled. ‘Shit, we’re some dumbasses, aren’t we?’

In the following silence, a distant ‘What the actual fuck?’ could be heard and that made them both giggle uncontrollably again. Nines reached down and helped Gavin up from the ground. ‘We should probably drive to your home.’ ‘We?’ ‘Well, I don’t think going back to Hank and Connor for the night wouldn’t be the best decision now’, Nines laughed drily. ‘Ah, damn, you’re right. But how…’ ‘I already called us a cab.’ ‘God, Nines, I could kiss you, but I think I have to throw up.’ ‘The next time, then.’

[dearlazerbunny]

Lie to Me (Ch 1 of ?)

Pairings: Loki x Reader

Genre/Ratings: M eventually (aiming for a slow burn here); warnings for kidnapping and subsequent anxiety/PTSD (will be marked before every chapter)

Words: 2200 

Summary: If you had to guess what the captured, traitor, trickster god Loki Laufeyson wanted or needed at this moment, a babysitter would be far, far down on the list. (Set after the events of Avengers 1.)

If I don’t post what I already have it’s never going to get finished soooo have some Loki. Hovering around 20k rn But I still have a looooot left to write. If anyone is interested in beta-ing/helping me flesh out ideas hit me up! 

“You.” You look up with a very good impression of a deer caught in headlights. The woman beckoning to you is clearly high up in the SHIELD hierarchy; her suit probably costs more than your entire life is worth. “Are you free?”

You glance down at the coffee you were supposed to be delivering to your coworkers. That could probably wait. “Um, yes ma’am?”

“Come with me.” She starts off in a brisk walk down the corridor, her heels clicking sharply on the floor. You follow without question, trying not to tug on your uniform too harshly in an attempt to break it in a little better. You still aren’t used to the issued clothing, considering you’ve worn the default uniform of hoodies and jeans of a college academic most of your life.

She herds you into a bare bones room, just a table and a few chairs. You stand until she gestures for you to sit, not sure why she’s even glancing your way. You’re a lackey, nothing more. Certainly not worth the attention of Maria Hill.

The woman tosses a folder onto then table, and it impressively lands squarely in front of you. “I’m assuming you’re aware of recent events?”

You raise an eyebrow. “If you’re referring to Manhattan, then yes. It’s been a bit hellacious around here.” Like there wasn’t a person on earth who hadn’t seen the footage of monstrous black aliens pouring out of a glowing portal in the sky. Everyone has been scrambling to control the situation that is blatantly so far out of their control they might as well be fighting sci-fi aliens with Neanderthal tools. It’d be amusing if it wasn’t so terrifying. “Are you with the clean-up crew?”

“Sort of.” She gestures to the folder and you open it. Inside are crystal-clear photos of Earth’s newly minted heroes and a horde of special agents escorting a raven-haired man into a transport vehicle. “Look familiar?”

You release a small breath. Intellectually, you know this is the man- god- who just tried to make himself king of humanity and threatened the entire Earth to do it. But that doesn’t stop the wonder and amazement from washing over you. Loki, Norse god of mischief, real and in the flesh. In the background you can see the golden-haired Thor, swinging his mythical hammer. Well, not exactly mythical, is it? It’s real. They’re real. All the gods and realms and monsters and mayhem that have captivated you since childhood and ultimately lead to multiple degrees on the subjects- they’re real. It’s absolutely incredible. “Yes,” you say, probably a little more wondrously that you mean for it to be.

“We’ve got Loki in custody.” She says his name so nonchalantly, like she isn’t referring to a thousands of years old immortal demigod of the golden realm of Asgard. “And we have no idea what to do with him.”

“And this has to do with me somehow?”

“Yes and no.” She sighs heavily, like she needed to be done with this shit a decade ago. “SHIELD is treating the prisoner with kiddie gloves. Fury wants every single loophole filled and locked down three times over. So we can’t just throw him in a deep dark hole and forget about him- he needs to be afforded certain… rights.” The tone of her voice implies she doesn’t agree with this sentiment.

“Like what?”

“Like company, while we sort out all the red tape so we can prosecute him properly.”

“Company.” You’re completely lost. “He needs a babysitter?”

That makes a small smile flick across her lips. “If you want to call it that. We’re not happy about it, believe me. It’s an undeniable risk. But the lawyers are demanding it, and god knows we have to keep the lawyers happy.” A pinch appears between your eyebrows. You don’t like where this is going. “So. Will you do it?”

“Me?” You squeak, then immediately try to get yourself under control. “Why me? I was literally hired a month ago, I have no qualifications to do anything like this-”

She holds up a hand. “We know. That’s the point. All you need to do is sit in his cell for a few hours every day and pretend to look interested in whatever he’s rambling about. If he talks; he’s been completely silent since we picked him up. Take a book and a few snacks with you, don’t let him schmooze you into doing anything traitorous, and you’ll be fine. Plus,” she continued, “with your background we figured you’d be at least mildly interested.”

Damn. They’ve got you there. Several masters’ in mythology along with years of a childlike fascination means you’ve been ridiculously curious about Earth’s new visitors ever since Mjolnir landed in New Mexico. The spark in your eyes must have been obvious, because Agent Hill holds out a slender hand. “Have we got a deal?”

And so, not hours later, you find yourself wandering into the depths of SHIELD’s base. “Hi there.”

The room is depressingly stark and sterile- you thought you’d gotten used to being surrounded by the chrome and weird futuristic plastic that are apparently now the only two building materials left on Earth since starting at SHIELD, but this place takes it to a whole new level. And it’s newly constructed, based on the smell of drying concrete and fresh shavings peeling up around the screw holes in the corners. There’s a small, utilitarian metal desk and chair that’s been provided for you in the center of the room, so you drop your notepad and pencil onto the tabletop with a clang and pull out the chair. It screeches painfully against the floor, making you wince. Okay, no more of that. You suck in your stomach and slide in between the table and chair so neither have to move. A little tight, but you can make it work.

The other man in the room, framed behind a wall of glass, has not reacted to any of this.

He looks exactly how he did on TV, minus the leather armor and extravagant gold horned helmet. It’s all been replaced with the thin grey uniform SHIELD deems prison garb. You have to admit, he looks a lot less intimidating sitting pale and silent against the wall, handcuffs glowing faintly around his wrists.

“Um- can you hear me?”

Still no response. He doesn’t even seem to notice you’ve entered the room. Uuuuuuum, okay... There’s a microphone attached to the desk. You lean into it, frowning, fiddling with a few of the dials at the base. Then you tap on it and speak directly into the mic. “Can you hear me?” The man flinches wildly, a radical break in his composure, and his eyes dart to you angrily. “Oh, gosh, sorry, okay, let me-” you turn the dial down a few notches. “Better?”

The volume doesn’t seem to be at max level anymore- he doesn’t flinch again- but he also doesn’t say anything else. “I’m going to need verbal confirmation that you can hear me.”

He doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t seem to be looking at anything. His gaze is focused on some middling thing opposite of him, something invisible on the horizon, but he’s hardly glazed over- emerald eyes are bright and sharp, flickering lightly. They are not the eyes of a defeated man, far from it. More like one who has about fifteen thousand and twenty three plans all running through his head at once.

You suppose that should scare you, but SHIELD has reassured you that the cell is one of the most technologically advanced cells they’ve ever constructed. Also, those cuffs have some sort of magic-diffusing abilities, so no funny business there. Then again, he did basically destroy all of Manhattan, like, less than a week ago. You hadn’t even been in that part of the country at the time, SHIELD had called you in from D.C., but you can still feel the horror grip your chest in a vice watching skyscrapers fall to tatters on the news-

“Yes.”

His voice is so soft you almost don’t catch it. It pulls you from your thoughts nonetheless. “Oh. Okay, great.” You pull your pencil to you and neatly label the first page of your notepad with today’s date in the top corner. If you were going be stuck with him, you might as well take notes. Think of the papers you could publish! “Can you please, uh, state your name for the record?” That sounded professional, right? You’ve heard it on Law and Order a lot, anyways.

The prisoner raises one eyebrow slowly. “Really?” He draws out that one word into a three-second attack of sarcasm, but you simply shrug your shoulders.

“It’s protocol.”

“I am Loki Laufeyson, Prince of Asgard, God of Mischief and Lies.” With every title he spits from his mouth, his eyes flash dangerously.

“O-kay.” You jot that down on your notepad, giving it an underline for good measure. “And how would you like to be addressed?”

“Your highness.” He says it as easily as he might’ve said Bob or Ricky.

You blink. “Um. Not sure that’s within my pay grade, but we’ll see how it goes.”

“Where am I?”

“A very secure holding cell,” you answer confidently, and the god scowls at you. He’s apparently waiting for more information, but you shake your head- “that is literally all the information I’m allowed to give you about that.” You glance up at the camera tacked to the ceiling of the room. “Also, you’re being recorded at all times. Gotta tell you that for legalities sake.”

“SHIELD has always so been worried about legalities.”

That gets a small snort from you, and you tap the end of your pencil on your paper. “So-”

“Who are you, exactly?” He suddenly sounds very, very tired, and a little angry, like he’s already done humoring you. “And why are you bothering me?”

“Y/N.” You give him a little wave, since you obviously can’t shake his hand. “I’m a, well- archivist, of sorts. SHIELD brought me in to talk to you.”

“And you’re, what? Fury’s pet?”

“Hardly. I’ve been here less than a month. I don’t think this uniform has even been washed yet.”

Another eyebrow raise. “An interesting choice to interrogate their most wanted prisoner.”

You tap a little more frantically. “I think it’s so if you end up getting into my head, I won’t be able to give anything up,” you say thoughtfully. There’s a huff over the speakers you’re hearing him through. “Also, this isn’t an interrogation.”

“No?”

“Nope. I’m not really qualified for that.”

“Then what are you qualified for?”

“Jeg snakker norsk,” you offer, honestly wondering that question yourself. The look he gives you is a mixed amount of horrified and amused. “They thought it might be helpful speaking in a familiar language, I guess?”

“They do know I can speak literally hundreds of thousands of languages spanning any galaxy you care to name,” he says, apparently stunned by the new heights of SHIELD’s stupidity.

You sigh. “Yeah. I thought it was a stupid idea too.”

“This is laughable.” He’s on his feet now, close to the glass and staring you down threateningly. “Why have I not been removed to Asgard? They will presumably want to prosecute me for my crimes.”

“Um, I think they’re planning on it. But they want me to, um, talk to you first.”

“About what.”

“Well. Anything you want, really.”

“I have nothing to say to you mortals,” he spits, and the word splats on the ground like it’s a curse.

“That’s cool, I get that. But right now all the bureaucrats are running themselves in circles trying to figure out what to do with you, and all that red tape is going to take some time to untangle. In the meantime, they want to make sure you don’t go crazy from the solitude or something.”

“Since when has SHIELD cared about my well being?”

“I mean, you’ve still got rights and stuff. You can’t just sit here for who knows how long with only yourself for company.”

“And why not?”

“Wouldn’t you get lonely?”

“Forgive me, but I hardly think you are going to provide any sort of adequate mental stimulation.”

Geez, way to hit below the belt. “You can request someone else if you want. They pretty much just picked me out of a lineup and threw me on you, I don’t really think they care who sits here with you.”

“What would be the point? SHIELD only hires imbeciles and fools.”

“Well, then. I guess you’re stuck with me for a while.”

The man slumps back, apparently not encouraged by your words. Then he punches the wall with one of his restrained hands and screams angrily in clear frustration.

This is going to go so well.

A/N: Jeg snakker norsk = I speak Norwegian