#why is one task a day seemingly enough to knock me out for a week

[skibasyndrome]

.

[maximotts]

𝙻𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝙾𝚗𝚎; 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 :: 𝙲.𝚘.𝚆.𝙼.

a/n: alright, here we go! I think I've mentioned it already, but most of these chapters are written and in my drafts so knocks on wood the schedule should stay as planned. I hope you all enjoy this series as much as I do and big special thanks to @furys-eyepatch for sending me the idea for Kinktober uh... obviously it got Quite Long

✎— priest's daughter!Wanda x college student!reader

✎— confessions AU; it's only been a few weeks, but Wanda won't get out of your head. With how small your campus was, you thought sure you were bound to run into her; until you realize she's the one person never on the invite list

✎— warnings: this is an 18+ series, minors DNI; this first chapter is pretty tame tbh, but we've got name calling, mentions of Wanda being an innocent little bean, allusions to bullying, and Brock Rumlow being a jerk

✎— words: 2.5k

series masterlist. || main masterlist.

That semester, you shared three classes, but your Folklore and Terror class was where you’d first seen her and just for that, it was your favorite. Three times a week you’d walk into the small lecture hall, barely on time, and Wanda Maximoff would already be settled at her chosen spot with her notebook open, books stacked neatly, pen and highlighters ready to be picked up as soon as your professors opened their mouths. She was like that for every class no matter what; from day one it was clear Wanda enrolled in college to learn, not socialize. 

Upon first glance, she’d single handedly convinced you she was the standard: focused, task-oriented, and studious. And just as quickly, you’d found Wanda was the exception instead of the rule. The rest of your classmates were exponentially more relaxed, talking to one another about anything from their massive workload to the current flatmate drama between dormitories. It was a tight-knit campus, most of the students having gone to school together since kindergarten and grown up in the tiny isolated town of Westview about an hour away. 

You’d expected to turn into a loner for a while, especially with transferring here in your third year, but new people were exciting front page news to young adults who’d seen the same faces for two decades and soon enough, invitations for study sessions over coffee, bonfires, and late night parties with weed brownies came pouring in. Everyone was surprisingly welcoming and you were grateful for the introductions, the companionship, all of it.. but wherever you went, Wanda was absent.

Eternally polite and quiet Wanda was nowhere to be found outside of class, and it only piqued your curiosity further.

After some casual prodding, you found out Wanda also grew up in Westview, but she was only a topic as an excuse for a few particularly annoyed girls to roll their eyes and sneer. Smart as she was, Wanda wasn’t ever invited to study groups, not that she asked either, no, she didn’t speak a word to anyone besides instructors and a few select people you recognized from your transfer orientation— the only kids that didn’t know her from town. 

A handful of times you’d caught her staring your way, but as soon as she noticed you looking back, she whipped around or turned her eyes back to her notes. For the first few weeks, you tried to pretend her avoidance didn’t bother you, but seeing her chat with other students made you wonder why she wouldn’t do the same with you. Sure you hadn’t approached her yourself, but honestly, you hadn’t worked up a good enough excuse to past “hey you’re pretty cute, please talk to me” and it just sounded too weird in your head to say aloud. 

Unfortunately, before you’d gotten a chance to think of a better conversation starter, Wanda started walking to your desk after class and your brain went into panic mode not only wondering what to say, but also what she could possibly want after seemingly avoiding you since the semester started. It was fine, everything was fine, she didn’t look mad at all, maybe… nervous?

You were moments away from speaking up as she made her way over… only to stop dead in her tracks when Brock Rumlow slung his arm over your shoulder. Just as soon as he began running his mouth about the next soccer game, Wanda spun around and made a beeline for her chair as if she hadn’t acknowledged you at all. While he ranted on and on, you tried to quell the disappointment, but it tugged the corners of your mouth down into a frown anyways. Not that the loud athlete noticed. “Shut up for a second… What do you know about Wanda?”

He only scoffed, both of you turning your attention to where the shy brunette now hurriedly packed her stuff into her red messenger bag. With all of her notebooks and pretty stationary, you wondered if her bag ever felt heavy… and if she’d let you carry it to class for her some time. “That religious little daddy’s girl? Stay away from her.” 

The strong reaction shouldn’t have caught you off guard, not when anyone who talked about her did so with the same distasteful tone, but it never failed to feel kind of… harsh. You didn’t need to grow up with a group of people to know how easy it can be to target one person and exaggerate every aspect of them until they grew to be a much bigger monster than they ever were in the first place. 

“She seems sweet though… Is she really that bad?” It was hard to believe anyone could dislike her that much when she was all oversized knit sweaters and gentle enough smiles to make you melt from across an entire lecture hall.

“Hey! Put those heart eyes away!” Brock poked your hip until you looked at him instead, ignoring your annoyed huff, “What’d I just say? She’s a total narc who goes running to her father as soon as she hears anything. I’m assuming you’ve never been to Westview?” You shook your head; the drive to your new school didn’t take you past the town and you’d been too busy with classes to explore yet. “Right, well Wanda’s dad runs the church, the one all our parents go to; whenever he got wind of something going down, all of us got a speech at home. Bit of a shame, she’s kinda cute, but can’t tell that bitch anything unless you want it blown to shit-” 

You might not have been friends with Wanda yet, but that didn’t mean you’d let someone, especially anyone as sleazy as Brock, demean her so boldly. It was in that sentence you discovered Wanda most likely kept her distance because of your new friend group. If so many people treated her how he did, you couldn’t blame her for staying away.

A hard elbow to the stomach left him choking on his own words, killing two birds with one stone to both shut him up and force him to let you go; you never liked how touchy he was anyways. “We’re all years into college now. She can’t still be like that.” 

“I’m not gonna chance it,” he shrugged, slinging his bag over his shoulder as if you hadn’t just knocked the wind out of him, “She goes home a lot more than anyone else, heard Mr. Maximoff picks her up too even though he pays for her apartment here. Something about her needing her own space to stay focused without ‘distractions’... weirdos, don’t know how her brother turned out normal. Trust me, the most you’ll get with her is maybe a walk through the courtyard.” 

A walk didn’t sound too bad right about now, particularly far away from this eye-opening, but awful little chat. “Well her dad doesn’t know me or my parents…” Maybe one day, hopefully, if you played your cards right, he would. 

Clumsily grabbing your stuff, you rushed out the door Wanda crossed through just a few seconds prior, looking around and finding her rushing down the stone path. “Wanda!” She had to have heard you, stopping briefly before continuing on, walking purposefully away even as you yelled out her name again. “Wait up a sec!”

It was a quick sprint to catch up with her, speeding a little ahead to jump ahead, forcing her to stop so as not to collide with you. “Wanda.. Hey!”

“Hi,” Even after weeks of lectures, you’d never seen her this close and already Brock was wrong; Wanda wasn’t just kinda cute, she was beautiful. Green eyes regarded you cautiously, narrowed ever so slightly. Her stiff posture showed she was already on guard, so different from the easy way you’d seen her open up to anyone else and you couldn’t lie, it stung a bit. You didn’t want her to be so worried; maybe the people you sat with didn’t like her, but you’d never said a mean word and even if you tried, you couldn’t think of one to say.

You could barely think of a coherent sentence to offer her.

“Hi… sorry for yelling,” You were a little out of breath, weighed down by your bag and still groggy from your professor’s boring lecture. For a second, you were scared Wanda would simply side step you and keep walking, taking advantage of your fatigue to avoid you entirely, but her expression softened, turning almost apologetic for her hostility. She even had a cute pout. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

Faint laughter sounded out behind you and the classroom was a ways away now, but Wanda’s eyes darted over her shoulder, catching Brock and a few of his various pals now on the grass, waving your way. You would’ve shouted at them to quit it, but you heard Wanda’s sigh and chose to ignore the ruckus for now, not wanting to accidentally egg them on further. “I hear a lot of things. Doesn’t mean I should pay attention to them.”

“Right…” Shit. She must’ve caught bits of your conversation, Brock wasn’t exactly a subtle guy. Wanda was gone by the time you cut him off; given how openly disliked she was, it couldn’t have been the first time she’d overheard herself being talked about. No wonder she practically ran out of the room. “Sorry about that.”

You felt for her in a sense, could empathize with being ostracized from your peers. Typically, going away to college fixed that, but Wanda was still stuck with the same group of people. Not that you wanted to talk to her out of guilt, not even close; the first thoughts you’d had about Wanda were far more lustful than pitying. All you wanted was one chance to get to know her for yourself. “Can I walk you to your next class?”

Wanda didn’t even try to hide her shock and you tried to pretend her reaction didn’t scare you that your other classmate was right about the courtyard walk. “That was my only class today.” 

“Mine too,” In truth, you had two long classes filling your afternoon; missing them just once wouldn’t hurt. Besides, you’d still be learning, replacing Wanda Maximoff for Governmental Statistics and World Literature. “Have lunch with me then?”

You could see her working through the proposition in her head, gauging your persistence against your seemingly genuine smile. She’d wanted to talk to you just as long as you had her, but there were…obstacles. Not only the crowd that drew you in, but also the beginnings of what she was just recently coming to terms with as a crush. Initially Wanda brushed it off as you being brand new, but when she caught herself making excuses to look your way and thinking about you while she grocery shopped, she knew her feelings wouldn’t pass by so easily. 

As much as she knew her inexperience combined with her bottom tier social status meant she had about zero chance with someone like you who she’d seen flirting with more than one girl already in your short time here, Wanda couldn’t get herself over it— over you. 

And Wanda wanted to have faith in you, to trust this wasn’t some awful prank you got roped into after you and her constant tormentors somehow sussed out her growing feelings and decided to poke at her new weakness for a laugh, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d fallen into that trap. 

The first experience was traumatizing enough, Wanda would rather not have to relive it as an adult. If the words religious little daddy’s girl weren’t still ringing in her head, she wouldn’t have thought twice. “You want to have lunch with me?” 

“Well I’d ask you out to dinner, but it’s only 1pm.” Not to mention, you’d been helpless thinking of some introduction that wasn’t clearly leading her on. Your usual smooth pickups felt too forward for a girl like Wanda, given what you knew about her; she’d take a lot of work to get to where you got with some people in just a few minutes and you really, really didn’t want to mess this up. 

Wanda’s cheeks blossomed pink at your cheeky comment and you were glad to have caught even a glimpse of it before she could hide her face behind her notebook. At least you could bank on her not being too extremely prudish, that gave you some wiggle room. “To make up for that asshole back there, please? We can get whatever you want, I’ll even pay.”

The terms sounded like a date, a lunch date, but it was all the same to Wanda who’d never successfully been on a date as well as to her fluttering heart. You learned right then Wanda was beautiful when annoyed, but positively gorgeous when she smiled at you. There were a million and one ways she could’ve responded, from disgust to polite rejection to even an overly gushy yes, but Wanda had to at least try to reply with a fraction of your ease. “I didn’t say no the first time.” 

“Well then, take us to your lunch spot of choice, sweetheart.” You stepped aside to let her go ahead, just missing Wanda’s cheeks darken to a tomato red from the sudden nickname, following close behind as your date led the way to her mystery destination. 

“There’s not much around here, you probably know where you’re going…” She was right, all walkable campus things were familiar to you now, but you could care less. 

“Shh, let me have this surprise-” Your phone buzzed in your pocket and unlocking it revealed an obnoxious text from Brock filled with kissy faces and laughing emojis. By the end of the day, it’d surely get around that you decided to hang out with their Public Enemy No.1, but you’d choose watching Wanda’s pretty pleated skirt bouncing ever so slightly as she walked with her adorable cautious glances, making sure you were actually still behind her, over the smell of sports sweat and hefty doses of Axe body spray any time. “I think you’re taking me the prettier route there anyways.”

Wanda’s mouth fell open when she realized your gaze wasn’t on the sidewalk or the leaves, but her, bashful yet again as she whipped back around. With less self-restraint you would’ve pulled her in for a hug, maybe nuzzled into her hair if you thought she’d accept that out here in the open. But girls like Wanda were a special kind, requiring time and coaxing and just the right words. 

You were willing to give her all of that and more. If no one else wanted her, you’d sure as hell take her before some other idiot could.

[koqabear]

hit me with your killshot, baby (C.YJ)

Summary:

It was a small, quiet town you had decided to move into. One that you could help with any healing or magical needs. What you didn’t expect, however, was to face a demon too powerful for your own good. The worst part? Seems like he’s gotten attached.

Yeonjun x reader/ demon!yeonjun x witch!reader

Genre: fantasy, enemies to ?? thriller(?), angst if you squint me thinks

Word count: 3.0K

Warnings: general physical fighting/violence, mentions of scars, burns, bones breaking, knives, blood, fire, descriptions of pain (let me know if I should add anything!)

a/n: This might get another part if it gets a good response <3 Writing fantasy is rlly fun for me as well, I’m so glad that this is the story that got me out of my writers block lmao

comments and reblogs are always welcome and much appreciated, hope you guys enjoy! <3

Disclaimer!! Absolutely nothing about this story is accurate or real, anything and everything that mc the witch does is made up!

It was about three in the morning when you got the call.

“Hello?” You said, eyes squinted as you had just been woken up from your sleep. The line remained silent for a moment, leaving you to wonder if this was a scam caller. You spoke again, only to hear hasty footsteps becoming louder, presumably running towards the phone.

“Hello?!” The voice called out, the loud exclamation causing you to jolt awake. “Oh my god, oh my god!” Their exasperated voice rang through your line, and you stood to get properly dressed, already anticipating their request.

“Where do you live?” You asked sharply, grabbing the keys to your car and waiting for their answer. They stuttered out their address, the sounds of the rain coming into your ear. They were now outside.

“Please come quick, this spirit has been bothering me for weeks now, I could have sworn they were harmless-“ they cried into the phone, only to get cut off by your stern command.

“Leave your home. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

They agreed, their voice quiet and shaky, and you hung up, beginning to drive to your new task.

It was no secret your town had a problem with the supernatural. That was the whole reason you lived here.

‘The town witch’ was what they called you. You remember moving to this small town the moment you turned eighteen, the rumors of the paranormal town beckoning you to help. With potions and incantations by your side, you were the best damn thing this place had ever gotten. But that was six years ago, and you were young and naive. The scars and burns that riddled your body only served to prove your progress, marking your place in this town permanently.

You sighed, your grip on your steering wheel weak. You were, after all, the only help these people had. Late night calls like this were beginning to become much too common recently, leading you to wonder if something, or someone, new was beginning to pester this poor town.

You arrived at the house, the thunderstorm only helping to provide a stereotypical atmosphere for you to work in. You got out your car, pulling your coat tightly against your body, the wind around you strong enough to hinder your footsteps.

The two story home before you rattled in protest, the front door swinging open the moment you got close enough. You felt your heart begin to race, beginning to question if this was truly worth it. It seems that whatever had been pestering the homeowner was no small ghost. Walking inside, you were met with the dark and empty home, the hardwood floor beneath you creaking in protest as you carefully walked around, the house seemingly calming the moment you entered.

You breathed in slowly, attempting to steady your mind as you surveyed the house, recalling what the homeowner told you before hanging up. This had been going on for a while, but it seems that it only recently became too much for them. Whatever was in this home really liked the attention.

Before you were able to take another step forward, you were thrown off your feet, slamming into the wall to your left, the many picture frames and decorations falling before you with a loud crash. The door slammed shut, and you covered your head, bracing yourself as you felt the glass shards begin to be directed towards you.

It’s here, and it’s angry.

Just as the chaos around you finally dulled down, you were met with the sight of the trophy shelf in front of you beginning to shake, your eyes widening as you began to run. You muttered a quick incantation to help shield you, the dull sounds of impact that began to pound against your shield only serving to make you run faster.

The hallway in front of you suddenly seemed never-ending, it’s violet wallpaper becoming harder to see the more you ran. Was the house layout always like this? The hallway suddenly ended, leading you to an open room, quickly recognizing it as the living room. The lights suddenly flickered on, disturbing your concentration as you noticed a shadow walk past one of the doorways.

Seemingly knowing you perfectly, the spirit took this small wavering to throw a book in your direction, narrowly missing your face as you ducked to the side, only to get knocked to your knees as you felt a kick to your back, your disturbed concentration causing your spell to be broken.

You turned around in a haste, summoning your shield once more as you unsheathed the knife you had in your coat pockets.

“Show yourself!” You barked out, standing up as you surveyed the room. “I know you’re here.”

Silence.

The howling wind outside stopped, the flickering lights suddenly still at the sound of your voice. You gripped the handle of the knife harder, trying to not let the exhaustion seep into you. The lights began to slowly dim, a lit ember flickering in front of you, only to be followed by many more, swirling into a raging fire directly in front of you. You jumped back at the heat, the familiar sight making you frown in anticipation.

“You look tired,” the voice said, as smooth and elegant as you first remembered it, “Maybe I could fix that.”

Standing in front of you was no other than Yeonjun. Clad in black, his dark eyes stared into yours as he towered over you, his platform boots shining underneath the dull lights, his hair slicked back and pushed away from his face save for a few strands that hung to frame his face.

“Yeonjun.” You said, a feeling of anger stirring inside you the longer you stared at him

“It’s so nice to hear my name come from you again,” he sighed, taking a step toward you, only for you to step back in retaliation.

Yeonjun was none other than the first demon you tried to expel when you first came here. You had fought with every single potion and spell you spent years perfecting, only to leave hospitalized and unsure that he would return. However, as the years passed and no sign of him appeared, you had assumed that you had succeeded in your battle against him, any signs of hauntings or poltergeists disappearing after that day.

“You,” you snapped, everything finally piecing everything together. “You’re behind everything that’s been happening recently, aren’t you?” You took another step back as he began to laugh, throwing his head back as if you had just told him the funniest thing in the world. Slowly, he calmed himself down, his eyes playful as he took his sweet time responding to you.

“Maybe, why?” He said, beginning to walk towards you slowly. You held your ground, concentrating on keeping your shield steady, they grip on your knife tightening. He stopped centimeters away from it, the aura of the shield humming as his clothes grazed the perimeter, shocks emitting on impact.

“I missed you, you know,” He muttered, head leaning towards you teasingly as he stood just far enough to not be blasted away from your shield. “It wasn’t fun hopping from town to town, trying to mess with other witches that resided there. They were just too…”

“Weak.”

You were barely given a moment before the sight of Yeonjun’s bright eyes filled your vision, the feeling of a scorching heat overtaking your senses.

Yeonjun had trapped you in a ring of fire.

A pretty small one, too.

Slightly panicked, you looked around for any place you could escape, the memories of the last time you got so close to Yeonjun warning you to get as far from him as you could, only to find that it was just you and him, trapped in a space that wouldn’t even allow you to shift backwards.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice taunting as he waited for your next move, “Claustrophobic?”

The weapon in your hand began to heat up, your mind working its hardest to form a plan that would work and let you come out alive. You already knew what this fire around you would do; It wasn’t a simple flame, and the scar on your chest that throbbed painfully in this demonic presence was enough proof of that.

The moment you had healed from your first encounter with Yeonjun, you had put all of the knowledge you had acquired from experience and older, more experienced witches into putting a weapon that would help you with violent demonic problems like him. It had taken you weeks of pure isolation and meditation to engrave the correct energy into the weapon, afraid to make any mistake that could lead to something drastic. By the time you were finished putting the last few touches on the weapon, (a protective incation; the words engraving themselves in fine print letter by letter as you poured the last of your energy into it,) you could barely stand, landing yourself at the house of a medic that specialized with witches.

“You’re lucky that you managed to come out of this with just drained energy,” He had told you one day, standing next to your cot and handing you a homemade medicine; its taste was horrendous, but it did the job.

“I’ve dealt with witches, succeeding or not, that had come out in a much worse condition. You’re very powerful, that much I can tell.” He confessed, his face sobering as he remembered why it was that you were there, “Whatever it is that you’re dealing with, I wish you luck.”

And now here you stand, the results of all your hard work and patience vibrating the more you concentrate on defeating the demon in front of you.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to try and hurt me with that,” Yeonjun laughed, watching the way your grip tightened the moment he landed his eyes on it, your knuckles turning white with the force, “You know your little knife can’t hurt me, right?”

While it was true that regular knives were nothing more but toys to him, you knew that what you were holding was not a regular knife.

But he didn’t.

You remained silent as you stared at him, quirking a brow to silently challenge him. He scoffed, rolling his eyes at your demeanor.

“Giving me the silent treatment now?” He said, pausing for a moment before looking back at you, “Fine. You think you can hurt me with that little kitchen knife?” With a single movement of his hands, the fire dwindled, going down until it was no more,

“Go ahead. Give it your best shot.”

You suppressed a smile.

Yeonjun was a lot of things. Strong, powerful, smart, hell, he was a bit attractive too.

But above all, he was cocky.

Slowly, and as subtly as you could, you adjusted your stance, your eyes never leaving his, ready to let your shield down to attack him.

“No games?”

His lips quirked up, his hands coming up to his sides to show you his full vulnerability.

“Fair and square. Here, I’ll even let you make the first move.” His pitch black eyes twinkled with his signature playfulness, his thoughts displaying to you loud and clear;

I thought you were smarter than this.

You fought the urge to scoff, and instead surveyed him for a moment, stepping back to give yourself a bit more room. He watched intently, his body language open and relaxed, clearly not threatened by you.

You lunged forward.

Before Yeonjun could move away, you swung your knife towards him, your stomach sinking as you missed your target, his neck, and sliced at his face instead. His head turned to the side, a hiss emitting from him as he turned back to you, the slash on his cheek burning into his skin, going deeper into his face as he began to bleed.

Except that wasn’t blood that came out of his face.

A thin liquid, pure black and mixed with the poison of your blade, trickled down his face. Slowly, he brought up a hand to his cheek, touching tentatively at his wound, observing the black substance that poured out of him, before turning back to you.

“Come on, you little vixen,” he groaned, the nickname that he called you from your first meeting rolling off his tongue smoothly, “Not the face!”

Cocky bastard.

But now that your first move was over, Yeonjun took a minute to crack his neck, the black liquid trailing down to his neck as he slowly rolled his head back, pausing for a second before straightening up, smiling at you sweetly.

“My turn.”

Right as you were going to activate your shield once more, Yeonjun ran to you, landing a solid punch to your stomach, sending you flying to the wall behind you, the wind being knocked out of you on impact as you crumbled to the floor. Looking up, you saw him lunge at you once more, mumbling your incantation for your shield, successfully knocking him back at the last second. Tumbling backward, Yeonjun layed on the floor as you slowly got back up, using the wall behind you as support, the wild and unhinged sound of Yeonjun’s laugh echoing off the walls.

“Oh, my little vixen,” he began, sitting up as he watched you regain your composure. “I missed this. I must admit, you have gotten stronger.” Standing back up slowly, you felt the room slowly heat up. You shifted, knowing what it was that he was about to do next.

“It’s exciting.”

Running towards him, you did your best to avoid the trail of fire that was now after you, ready to swing your knife at him as you got closer. Just as you were close enough to him, you swung towards his neck once more, the predictable movement allowing Yeonjun to step aside, only to get a kick to his chest, successfully knocking him down and allowing you to dive down, the fire that was about to pierce the center of your back flying instead to the wall in front of you, the loud boom barely covering Yeonjun’s scream as you dug your knife into his shoulder.

“Fuck!”

You towered over him, straddling his waist and putting as much weight as you could to keep him down. His hands immediately reached up to clasp over yours, attempting to pull the weapon out, only to have you retaliate by digging it into his skin more, his cursing filling up your ears as he struggled against you.

Your jaw clenched and you felt yourself begin to sweat, the same ring of fire from before beginning to enclose around you slowly with no signs of stopping. Your hands began to burn underneath Yeonjun’s touch, obviously his doing as he seemed to concentrate on attempting to scare you off with the same fire that landed you on the brink of death from your first encounter.

But you refused.

You refused to allow the demon to live any longer, to continue to terrorize innocent and defenseless people in your town, or in this world at all. And now that you had him under your grip, your hands struggling to successfully behead him, you weren’t going to let a little bit of pain scare you away.

Your hands began to numb under the heat of his skin, popping noises emitting from under his iron grip. He was attempting to break your hands, to render them useless, but with the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you pushed on, biting back your own groans of pain and trying to concentrate on your current task, and nothing else.

“Come on my vixen, give it up,” he said, his voice laced with pain and false confidence that he attempted to use in order to make you believe that he remained unaffected. But as your knife inched towards his neck, piercing through his skin and emitting a loud sizzling sound, you knew that it was all a bluff by the way he winced, a low grunt of pain escaping him.

“I really don’t want to hurt you, you know,” he confessed, the ring of fire snapping angrily at your legs, the heat making you want to faint from overexertion. But you continued to push on, much to Yeonjun’s annoyance. “Fine, you asked for it.”

He screwed his eyes shut, the ring of fire slightly calming down, along with his iron grip on your hands. Just as you were about to take this chance and behead him, you felt something coming.

You turned around.

A ball of pitch black fire, resembling a pure void, flew towards you.

It all happened so fast. Throwing you off of him, Yeonjun staggered away from you, watching silently as the void of black washed over you, your screams of agony causing him to look away, the slightest bit of pity washing over him.

This was it, wasn’t it?

You couldn’t move as this void of fire washed over you, a feeling as though every bone in your body was being broken and you were being turned inside out coarsed through your system, your screams ripping through your throat, the wish for death appearing in your heart.

But right as you felt as though you were going to black out, it stopped.

And Yeonjun stood over you.

He watched as you lay there, completely paralyzed with pain. It took a bit before you began to breathe again, your chest barely rising, the air flowing into you causing you pain. Slowly, you opened your eyes, Yeonjun’s face inches from yours, the dark liquid from his wounds dripping onto you.

“I almost feel sorry,” he whispered, his lips grazing yours. You tried to hold on, to finish your job, but the very effort of having to breathe exhausted you beyond belief. Slowly, he pressed his lips to yours, the kiss more of a half hearted apology as he lingered there for a second, his lips still against yours. His mind reeled at the feeling, and he pulled away, a soft smile on his face as he slowly brought his hand down, hesitating before caressing your exhausted face slowly, spreading his own blood on your face.

He grinned.

“I look forward to our next battle.”

And he was gone.

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you collapsed.

[rozcdust]

Fighting dog

Pairing: Kokonoi Hajime x f!reader

Genre: Angst

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: Violence, profanity, toxic relationship, mdni, codependent relationship, suicidal ideations, reader is unhinged

Synopsis: You didn’t know five letters is all it takes to lose your composure, and he should have known dogs adopted from the fighting rings can’t become lap dogs.

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | next

Thinking back on it, it could have ended okay.

You weren’t even supposed to be in the building tonight. You were supposed to go home, shower, get your duffle bag and make your way to the club, but Kokonoi asked you to bring him some reports in his office.

You knocked on the doors, waiting for a muffled ‘Come in’ before opening them.

You noticed Kokonoi wasn’t alone, as you threw a glance at Sanzu who was sitting on the floor next to Koko’s desk, calculating something, presumably a task Koko gave him to keep him quiet. and playing with a butterfly knife, seemingly bored out of his goddamn mind, and Kakucho who was sorting papers.

Koko was typing on his laptop, briefly glancing up at you.

“Hey baby.”

“Hello.” You smiled back, leaning down to kiss him, gently putting the reports on his desk.

“Thank you.”

“What are we, chopped liver? I can’t get a hello too?” Sanzu sounded annoyed, but it only looked amusing as he sat on the floor, pouting and gripping the calculator so hard, you thought it might break.

“Hello to you too,” You gently kicked him, moving away from his swatting, “and hey Kakucho.”

Kakucho nodded in your direction, seemingly lost in his papers, looking borderline miserable.

It could have been okay. Things could have ended differently if you just left in that moment without saying anything.

It was already a bad day for you, scratch that, it was a bad week. All the anger and frustration was building up in you, and usually it’s fine, you’ll fight to get it out, and be calm for the next week until the next rotation.

But Mikey kept you busy, and you had no fights scheduled for two weeks until tonight.

Maybe you would have been fine if it wasn’t such a bad week.

“Busy tonight?” Kokonoi asked you, distracted, still staring at his laptop.

“Yep, got a few fights scheduled down in Shibuya.”

“If we’re finished soon enough, we’ll come!” Sanzu yells from the floor, earning a chuckle from you.

“Thanks. Pretty knife you got there.”

Sanzu hands it to you, excited.

“It flows so smoothly! It’s a joy to flip around.”

“Oh shit, it does,” You say, mesmerised as you did a few tricks, “I’m keeping this, you can get a new one.”

You ignore Sanzu’s whining in order to press a kiss to your boyfriend’s temple, who really isn’t paying attention to you.

“I’ll go now, love you baby.”

“I love you too Akane.”

The atmosphere in the room got thick and heavy in a split second.

Akane.

You froze, feeling your rage hit a boiling point. It was a dumb slip of tongue, he was distracted, you knew that, it’s fine.

Akane.

Why is your heart hammering in your chest then? Why is there a heavy sinking feeling?

You’ve always had anger issues, and you knew yourself well enough to know when you’re about to lose it fully.

“What the fuck did you just call me?” You let out through gritted teeth, clutching the knife now resting by your side.

You were a feral dog, but you knew how to use that in rings. Wherever you were, in whatever scene, you were the best, there was no one better, and if there was, well. Not for long.

You never liked being the second choice.

“Hm? I called you A-“ Before you knew it, you showed him against the wall, forcing him to get out of his chair, the knife pressing on his throat.

He finally seemed to snap out of his concentration when he felt the cold metal on his neck, pressing down.

You heard Kakucho saying something, but the rage made you deaf and blind to anything but the fear in Kokonoi’s eyes.

It was intoxicating.

Dogs can smell fear, and it only makes them happier to pounce, happier to sink their teeth in.

The feeling of cold metal against your head brought you back, if only for a second.

“Y/n, put the knife down.” Sanzu’s voice behind you was steady, calm even, but you knew better.

Dogs can smell fear.

Dropping the knife, you turned around, glaring at Sanzu, a smile on your face.

“Oh, doing what the king told you, huh? You’re gonna shoot me?,” You sneered, leaning forward, pressing the gun fully against your forehead, “Fucking do it then. Shoot me. Put me down, I deserve it.”

You could see Sanzu take a deep breath, and it only made the rage inside your chest burn further.

Dogs can smell fear.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?! You’re gonna disobey?! Fucking shoot me already! SHOOT ME!” You were screaming at this point, eyes wide open and manic, glaring at Sanzu.

“Y/n… Please calm down.” You could hear Kakucho whisper.

“Shoot. Me. I disobeyed.” Your teeth were grinding against each other, pure rage twisting your face.

“Y/n, I’m-“ Kokonoi tried to say something, but you snapped before he could.

“Shut the fuck up. Sanzu, pull the fucking trigger. Come on, splatter my brains out! It’s Mikey’s orders, do it. Fucking do it! What are you waiting for?! What the fuck are you waiting for?!!” Your voice was growing into a crescendo.

Sanzu didn’t move a muscle, only staring at you, wide eyed.

You let out a bitter laugh.

“I’ll fucking do it myself then.” Before he could react, you grabbed his wrist, twisting it, forcing him to drop the gun into your hand.

The only way to pacify rabid dogs is to kill them.

“Y/N!” Kokonoi yelled, trying to grab you, but before he could, you pressed the gun to your temple, pulling the trigger.

Click.

Frowning, you tried again.

Click.

You wanted to fucking laugh.

Throwing the gun onto the floor, you grabbed Sanzu, getting into his face.

“Told to shoot on sight, and your fucking gun isn’t even loaded? Pathetic.” You spat, letting go of him, making him stumble a bit.

You turned to Kokonoi.

“I’m fucking done with you. I could pretend I didn’t hear all your bullshit suggestions, I could pretend I didn’t fucking notice her face in your wallet, but this? Calling me her fucking name? You’re pathetic. You,” Taking a step closer, you saw him gulp, “Disgust me. I’m not your fucking replacement, you drive me fucking insane!”

Turning on your heel and grabbing your bag, Kakucho tried to talk to you, desperate to pacify you.

“Y/n, he didn’t mean it, it was a slip of tongue, you know it, come on, calm down, please?”

“God, you just don’t fucking get it, do you Kakucho? You. Don’t. Fucking. Get. It!”

“He didn’t mean to, y/n, please, it’s not worth getting in trouble with Mikey over.”

You laughed, sounding borderling manic.

“Of course you can fucking excuse it, all of you can! All of you do nothing but replace people! All of you are fucking pathetic, never letting go of the past, he’s replacing his fucking dead crush with me, you and the Haitanis are replacing that dead boy with Mikey, Mikey’s replacing the blonde guy with Sanzu, all of you are fucking depressing!” Shoving him out of your way, you opened the door, slamming it behind you.

The three men exchanged a glance, in shock and panicking.

You passed Ran and Rindou on your way out.

“Hey, y/n!,” Ran beamed at you, “tonight in Shibuy-“

“Shut the fuck up and don’t show up to watch. I don’t want to see your face.” You growled out, not even stopping to look at him.

Rindou and Ran exchanged a look, baffled. You never spoke to them with so much hate in your voice before.

Fighting dogs can’t become lap dogs.

[lepusrufus]

To bargain for immortality pt.1

It's here fellas, the mutation sequel that I've mercilessly teased you with!

Content warnings: gore, torture, blood (like... lots), just a bunch of puking up blood, Miranda being her usual mad scientist self, torture in the name of science, Nicole be sick af (both literally and of crow mommy's bullshit), a little bit of blood drinking as a treat, medical procedures.

////

Tic toc tic toc

God that clock is so annoying.

Nicole wasn’t nervous. No. She chose this, at least for the most part. She had a long conversation with all her family, Alcina and Esteria both assuring her that it would work. It’s been years since the beginning of the experiments and by this point the process was almost perfected.

Miranda knew what she was doing.

That mattered little to her nerves though.

She instinctively pushed herself further into Cassandra’s side, who’s grip around her waist tightened ever so slightly.

The waiting was downright tortuous.

She, along with Cassandra and her two sisters were in her infirmary. The room mixed the ancient decor of the castle with modern medical equipment in a beautiful way. Not that anything less would be acceptable. Not that the familiarity of her workspace brought her any comfort either.

All their eyes snapped in the direction of the door when a heavy set of footsteps, with two lighter ones, were heard down the hallway outside. Soon the door opened with a barely audible creak and the two matriarchs entered, followed suit by Mother Miranda. Her presence alone was enough to make Nicole’s breath get lost somewhere in her throat, on its way to an exhale. The black wings, even partially folded as they were, did their job of making her look so much more intimidating than she was. Not that she needed them to begin with, a look from those icy gray eyes more than enough to send anyone to their knees.

Mother Miranda was, in all ways that mattered, a goddess.

A goddess that was about to infect her with the same thing that failed countless times in the past. The same thing that made the crawling mindless beasts used as guard dogs in the undergrounds. Or that made all the lycans.

Nicole gulped, a gesture gone thankfully unnoticed to anyone other than her painfully dry mouth.

But Miranda didn’t spare her a glance. She simply busied herself with some tools she had brought on one of the metal tables. With each clink the room seemed to close in on her slightly more, until Nicole felt as if she somehow ended up in one of Heisenberg's death traps. Spikes moving closer and closer until they would pierce her body and leave her in a messy pool of blood and entrails.

She shook her head and took a long inhale. No. This was going to work. She was not about to lose her family over a pesky thing such as mortality. She was not about to lose Cassandra. If getting infected by the Cadou was what it took to spend eternity with her lover then so be it. Possible side effects be damned.

Mother Miranda finally seemed to have finished, a now empty flask labeled Cadou sitting on the desk behind her while the parasite was writhing in her hand, thin whip-like tentacles extending frantically around itself. She called her over with a nod, and with a deep breath and a parting hand squeeze from Cassandra, Nicole forced her legs to take her across the room. Her steps didn't waver, she'd be damned if she'd show any hesitancy in front of this.

"Shall we begin."

It wasn't a question really, merely veiled impatience. Miranda did not like her, plain and simple. The fact that she was there to begin with was already a miracle. Miracle that wouldn't have happened were it not for the Ladies themselves asking for it.

"Yes of c-"

Before her words even had time to completely slip out of her mouth, golden talons plunged into the base of her sternum.

"Hopefully this can teach you that I don't like people going behind my back."

Nicole let out a choked gasp, hands instinctively wrapping around Miranda's arm, weakly grabbing at black robes. Ironically enough, those very talons were keeping her upright and, when they were removed from her flesh with a disgusting squelch of blood, Nicole curled in on herself, falling to her knees.

"Wha-... cking ki-... -er!"

Cassandra's voice reached her ears broken up, barely passing through the deafening ringing. Miranda also gave a reply and then seemed to address someone else but her much calmer tone meant that it only sounded like a vague mumble.

Not that Nicole particularly cared at the moment.

She curled into a ball, her hands almost clawing at her chest trying to find some sort of relief. It seemed as if vicious tendrils were making their way into every vein and muscle, tearing their way through any tissue they found. Her chest felt as if it had a hot iron pressed directly onto the skin, searing pain radiating in a cruel pulse matching her frantic heartbeat. By that point she was either sobbing or heaving, something that involved shallow breaths for sure. Her lungs were protesting fiercely, emptying of oxygen and then refusing to refill if not with great strain.

To make everything worse, the pain seemed to shift, now engulfing her spine and sending jolts that made her head spin and want to throw up despite her jaws being clenched shut so tightly that she was sure she'd start to taste copper soon.

She was only vaguely aware of hands shifting her body and soothing words that fell on deaf ears. She was now on a softer surface, but that did nothing to alleviate the assault on each of her senses. Probably she had thrown up at a certain point as her sinuses felt like being scraped by sandpaper with each shuddering breath. Her mouth too had a lingering taste of both bile and blood that made her stomach turn all over again. She would give anything for her body to finally shut down.

Why was she still awake and conscious god damn it. There was only so much her body was supposed to take before the brain shut down and she was reaching her limit of how much agony she could endure at a moment.

Please please please just pass out please.

She didn't though. Her body seemingly deciding to feel every single bit of the infection process, complete with the unending waves of pain and nausea that hit her more than she wanted to count. Any bit of sanity left in her would've probably disappeared had she tried.

---

It took two days for the agonizing pain to subside. Another two for Nicole to be able to form any kind of coherent sentence. Cassandra's soothing voice was of immense comfort, always there to tell her how well she was doing and how it would all be better soon.

God she hoped.

On the fifth day, her stomach still lurched at any movement too sudden. Her lungs seemed to fill with blood, courtesy of the still gaping wound at the bottom of her sternum, with any inhale too deep. The fact that she got used to the coppery taste rising up in her throat was disgusting in and of itself. At least there weren't jolts of pain shooting through every nerve and muscle in waves anymore though. That was something.

The fog in her brain was still clearing. It was hard to focus on anything, and each time Cassandra, or anyone else, asked her a question they would have to repeat it at least three times. It was beyond frustrating, the mind that got her through med school drunk half the time was failing the insurmountable task of saying whether or not she'd like some water. Glorious.

A faint knock on the door reached her ears. A redundant gesture really, as she didn't exactly have the clarity of mind to answer. Besides it was hard to catch her in a more compromising state than curled up in the fetal position, covered in sweat and most likely blood clots stuck to her lips.

Esteria came in, her one blue eye that wasn't covered looking at her with all the gentleness neither of her parents had ever offered her. Or it was just the cruel trick of a delirious brain. Either way, light barefoot steps took the Mistress to her bed. She sat in the chair adjacent to it and, with taloned fingers brushing strands of auburn hair out of Nicole's face, she spoke softly.

"How are you feeling today?"

Her voice was just as melodious as ever. It was the voice one imagines they would hear from an ancient being found deep in the forest. It made Nicole just a tad guilty when the only answer she could give was a pathetic whine.

Esteria simply hummed, talons running through the long messy locks of hair sprawled on the sheets.

"Would you like me to braid this for you dear?"

Nicole frowned. The Mistress was an expert at braiding, quick fingers able to make beautiful designs, both simple and complex. Comes with having floor length hair, her hazy mind guessed. On any normal day, Nicole would've accepted without a second thought. But now? Now she was painfully aware of the state she was currently in.

"It's filthy," she croaked, her voice raw and like stones in her mouth.

And it was. Her hair was waist length and right now it was slowly becoming a curse. It was greasy and sweaty thanks to barely being able to move a limb for nearly a week, which meant no showers. Not to mention how she lost count of the times she bent down to empty the contents of her stomach into a bucket, only to have some rebel locks fall in her face and get subsequently dirty. God she felt awful.

Esteria didn't seem to care too much though, as she simply helped Nicole shift slightly and talons started to work at some pesky mats. In no time, her hair was in a comfortable braid that started relatively high, keeping the locks away from her nape which meant just a tad less overheating. Not to mention it kept it in place and away from her mouth that she didn't trust in the slightest right now.

"Thanks," she actually managed to not let her voice crack this time.

"Oh it's no problem. Also," there seemed to be an odd strain in her voice, "Mother Miranda is coming this evening. She said something about an examination."

Nicole couldn't help but openly wince and curl in on herself a little more at the mere mention of the woman. Her chest seemed to pulsate painfully at the memory of the golden talons embedded deep in her flesh. Right now she wanted those hands anywhere away from her.

"What time is it?"

Esteria looked at the clock placed somewhere on the wall behind them. "About twelve. Still got time."

How hard would it be to drag herself to the adjacent bathroom for a quick shower? The only way her situation could get worse was if none other than Mother Miranda came in to see her in that state. She took a deep breath that her lungs protested against and pushed herself onto her elbows. At Esteria's skeptical expression she tried to sound less horrible than she felt.

"I need a shower."

Esteria pursed her lips. "Sorry dear but I don't believe for one second that you can stand for more than a minute. I'll ask a maid to draw you a bath."

Nicole only nodded weakly and let herself fall back into the cushion.

---

It took far longer than Nicole would ever admit to get herself fully clean. Her muscles were sore and protesting at every pass of the soapy sponge. Her hair was a whole other battle and she had to bite down on her pride and ask the maid positioned outside her door for help. It was a tortuous fifteen minutes until the poor girl managed to detangle the long locks enough to be shampooed and washed.

After she was content with the level of cleanliness of her body and the maid was dismissed, she stood there preparing herself to get out of the basin. In the meantime she looked down at the wound at the bottom of her sternum. Maybe wound wasn't the right word. It looked more like a gray and black scar with vein-like tendrils spreading across pale skin. It looked downright gruesome. Miranda really did not try to do a clean job in the slightest. Didn't even think to use anesthesia, like she had with most other experiments, according to Alcina.

She sighed and finally pushed herself out of the water with shaky arms.

By the time Mother Miranda arrived she was feeling slightly better. Why she came personally was still a mystery to Nicole. Maybe some sick sense of satisfaction in seeing her in pain.

Either way, by the time their so-called goddess came into the infirmary and told Nicole to lay down on one of the tables, she managed to shuffle her way over without her body protesting too much. Cassandra also quietly made her way on the opposite side of Miranda, gaining herself a glare.

"Must you hover over her like that?" Miranda's tone was as even as ever, but her eyes betrayed annoyance.

"Does it hinder you?"

Cassandra was not an idiot, the growl she wanted to add into her question was instead replaced by a tone not too dissimilar to Miranda's own, who simply tugged her lips into a grimace.

"Very well."

At first they went through a normal examination. Pupil dilation, reflexes, all things a normal doctor would do. Then Miranda told her to unbutton her blouse so she could take a look at the infection scar.

Nicole couldn't help flinching when thankfully gloved fingers would poke and prod at the sensitive flesh there. Her cold digits felt like hot coals were spread on her chest and nails dragged uselessly on the metal underneath her body for some sort of distraction.

Mother Miranda decided to get a tissue sample and that's when Nicole decided that maybe she would rather spend eternity as a ghost. She squeezed her eyes shut when a scalpel was brought to the overly sensitive skin. It took her back to when she would do autopsies, years ago. Tissue samples were always an integral part of her work. How ironic that she found herself on the other side of things.

It's fine.

She winced when the blade cut into flesh and sent a jolt of pain through her chest. Nicole couldn't help but think of the long days she spent agonizing while her chest felt like it was burning her alive and hoping that it wouldn't repeat. A sigh of pure relief slipped past her lips when whatever fake deity there was besides this woman, listened to her and the sensation died out quickly. She dared to open her eyes, only to see Mother Miranda frowning down at the small vial in hand.

It was quickly given to an assistant and she unceremoniously grabbed Nicole's wrist, dragging the blade across the length of her forearm.

Nicole gasped at the sudden sharp pain, and even Cassandra dropped a few choice words in romanian due to the surprise. No. No no no. What the hell-

Any questions, or less dignified reaction, died in everyone's throats as they watched the skin stitch itself back together. The repairing muscles gave a tingling sensation but soon the only proof that a cut had been there were thin trails of blood.

Mother Miranda chuckled and wrote down something in the notebook she brought with her. "Accelerated healing. That can be of use."

Nicole couldn't help but throw a glance at Alcina, who was sitting in one of the many chairs with Esteria by her side. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of conflicting emotions flashing in her eyes like rapid lightning. She would've tried to decipher their matriarch's probable thoughts were it not for the smell that was starting to assault her senses.

"Ugh what's that…blood… "

Coherent sentences were still not something her brain wanted to do apparently, but judging by how her nose scrunched up in a grimace, Cassandra got the gist of what she meant.

"Um… your arm," she pointed to the still fresh blood slowly dripping from her skin.

Right. Dumbass.

"Or damaged sinuses. Should go away soon," Miranda added from where she was noting something down and giving instructions to her assistant.

Also fair.

She sighed and tried to ignore it. Her sinuses still felt like sandpaper all the way to the back of her throat. Every time she swallowed, it felt like needles scraping the inside of her neck down to her stomach.

Ugh.

Thankfully, Mother Miranda did not linger for much longer. She wrapped up any samples and was out of the room soon after with her assistant in tow. Then, Nicole could finally go back to laying down in bed and feeling miserable.

And miserable she felt. Her body seemed to have decided to rewire itself into its new mutation. It didn't have any effect on her physical appearance, but the insides seemed to want to liquefy only to be mended back together. It was another week of basically living with a bucket in her lap and throwing up blood clots that seemed to invade her lungs and organs. How she didn't straight up asphyxiate was a mystery that she didn't think she wanted solved.

And to top it off, she was starting to think that humidity from some leaky pipe somewhere in the castle was causing a slight mold problem. Almost everywhere she went, there was this faint moldy scent lingering in the air and it was mixing horribly with the coppery feeling inside her still offended throat and sinuses. Nobody seemed bothered by it though, so maybe it was simply a side effect of the infection that was yet to go away. It wasn’t nicknamed the Mold for nothing, after all.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Howdy! I got an ask/react for the Fo4 companions! How would a romanced companion react to Sole (preferably female) doing things to make them feel 'stronger' or 'protective' over her? Some random examples: Sole "can't" open something and has to ask for help/Sole conveniently forgets her overcoat when she knows it's going to be cold out, etc. the little things :) (Extra thing: you don't have to but if you could go into a bit more depth for Deacon and Hancock's response that'd be great :D )

Okay, this was so. much. fun. I took a few... creative liberties with the prompt, but I hope it’s still in the realm of what you were looking for! And, of course, thank you so much for the ask! I hope you like it!

Cait: 

     Sole pressed a cold cloth to Cait's cheekbone, and she hissed at the pressure of the contact on her swollen cheek. 

"Shit, sorry, Cait." 

"Eh, I've had worse licks than this."

"I know, but still… this one is definitely my fault." 

"It's hardly yer fault, luv, I'm the one who got meself inte this."

"How? I'm the one who started the fight." Sole protested, pulling her hand back so she could look her companion in the eye. 

"Maybe, but I'm the one who gave you yer drinkin’ problem, and that's what got us inte the fight in the first place." Sole chuckled at that, shaking her head. The two had had this discussion what seemed like a hundred times, both trying to take the blame for the constant slew of bar fights that they found themselves getting into. 

Tonight, it had been four intoxicated men who had decided it was a neat idea to discuss the details of what they’d do to Cait if they could get her drunk enough. While the redhead hadn’t seemed to hear, Sole had briskly made her way over to the group to give her two cents on these ideas of theirs. So, Cait had a point, maybe if Sole hadn’t had quite so much whiskey, she could’ve tried to solve the problem more... verbally. But alas, her confrontation had officially started with her fist landing at the temple of the man nearest to her, effectively knocking him out. And it had ended with Cait hauling Sole to her feet after disposing of the man’s companions. 

Cait picked absent-mindedly at the scabs forming on her knuckles as Sole brought the wet rag up to her face once more, dabbing at the blood next to Cait's lip. 

"God, how is it that you always end up with the injuries? All I got was a bruise to the cheek, and yet, here you are, looking like a human punching bag."

"I can tell ya that. It's cus it's always me rushin' in te save your arse. Why do you always take on more than ye can handle?" Sole snickered, not knowing if Cait found her own words as amusing as she had. 

"Because, I know no matter how many assholes I take on, you'll always be there to save me." Cait made a disgusted sound, rolling her eyes at that, much like Sole thought she would, before letting her emerald gaze meet Sole's eyes. 

"I wish you weren't, but yer damn right." Cait said, and Sole felt a little jump in her chest at the sentiment. Cait wasn’t the most tender person in the wasteland, but somehow, she always seemed to know what to say; to Sole, anyway.

The pair sat silently for a bit as Sole finished cleaning up her defender. Wiping down her bloodied hands, and the remainder of the crusted crimson on her face.

"Are ya done fussin yet? I'm tellin’ you, I'm fine. Can we just go te sleep already?"

"One more spot left." She told her, bringing the rag up to her bruised face once more. Sole's eyes fell to Cait's swollen lips as she drew the cool fabric over them, before leaning in to press her mouth softly to Cait's. Sole pulled away, but stayed close enough for Cait to feel her warm, whiskey-tinged breath fan over her as she whispered, 

"Thank you for saving me tonight. I really was way in over my head." Sole looked down, embarrassed at her admission, as Cait smiled at her. 

"It was my pleasure, luv. As you said, I'll always be there te save yer arse." 

Curie: 

     "You know, you don't have to come to me for something as small as zhis." Curie said as she examined the minor cut on Sole’s arm. “You could patch zhis up yourself easily!” 

“Well…” Sole felt heat rise to her cheeks as she searched for an explanation. She knew that every time she came to Curie for something like this, she was taking up the doctor’s precious time, but she couldn’t help herself. What was she supposed to do when Curie insisted on working all day when they were at a settlement? They usually came to settlements to relax, to help make repairs and look into any problems the settlers might be having, but Curie always insisted on doing check-ups for everyone in their vicinity. Sole loved her selflessness and dedication to her work, but… When were they supposed to spend time together? This is what I get for having a workaholic for a girlfriend.

“You know, infection is a big problem out here. I just thought it would be best to seek the help of a professional.” 

“Oh, of course, of course. How responsible of you.” Sole bit at her lip as Curie laughed at her. Well, she really has caught onto the whole ‘sarcasm’ thing.

 “Fortunately, you do not need to worry about infection in zhis, it iz not deep. But come here, with me.” Curie urged Sole off of the cot she was seated on and brought her to a table at the back of the clinic. 

“Wait here, se vous plait.” With that, Curie disappeared around the corner, and Sole stood around, twiddling her thumbs, as she tried to think of an excuse to get Curie off of work early. 

“I was going to clean my supplies with zhis, but we can do your arm first.” Curie said as she came around the corner, a bucket of soapy water in-hand. 

“Here.” Curie set the bucket onto the table and had Sole hold out her arm as she produced a clean rag from the pocket of her lab coat, and dunked it into the warm water. Sole watched as Curie wrung out the cloth, and brought it to the miniscule wound on her arm. 

It was comical, really, the care that Curie took in cleaning the cut that couldn’t have been more than an inch long, and was almost too thin to see. Another rush of heat made its way to Sole’s cheeks as she realized how ridiculous she must seem to the doctor, but Curie made no complaints as she used the other side of the rag to dry off her arm. 

“Zhere! It should be all better. I can wrap it for you too, if you’d like.” 

“Thanks Curie, you’re a lifesaver. But I don’t think you really need to wrap it.” The synth laughed at her as she threw the rag into a basket and picked up the bucket again. 

“Oh, mon dieu, I don’t know about zhat.” She shook her head, a pink tint coming to her pale cheeks at Sole’s flattery as she turned to go into the back of the clinic again. 

“Wait!” Sole said, reaching out her “good” arm to stop Curie before she could vanish around the corner once more. Curie looked at her, a questioning expression on her face. Sole stood, her hand still wrapped around Curie’s forearm, utterly at a loss of what to say. I just don’t want you to go. It’ll be another four hours until you get off. 

I think you should take a break?

Maybe you should have a half day?

Do you need some help here at the clinic? God, when did I become so damn clingy?

“Hmm.” Curie’s eyes pierced into Sole’s as a knowing look washed over her face. “I zhink I know what it is you want.” Sole just stared ahead, wondering silently if that were true. The doctor set down the bucket yet again, delicately taking a hold of Sole’s “injured” arm once more. Slowly, she brought it upwards, then lowered her head to place her lips gently over the cut. “Iz zhat better?” 

Sole giggled, still embarrassed, but definitely glad she had come to interrupt Curie’s work. I guess I can wait a little longer. Maybe make us a nice dinner for tonight...

“Much. Thanks again, Curie.” 

“Of course! Anytime, mon amour.”

Danse: 

     Sole sat at the kitchen table, draining the last of her coffee as her gaze fell to Danse, where he was seated on the steps outside the front door of her Sanctuary home. He stared ahead blankly, brows knitted together above his lusterless eyes as his hands worked to remove a spot of rust from a piece of power armor he had taken off his suit temporarily. Lately, the ex-paladin had been adept in putting on a show for Sole, making her think that he was okay, even after everything that had changed in his life over the course of a few hours. It had been over a week since he had found out about his true identity, and in that time,  Sole could tell that he had tried to remain strong. For whom, she wasn’t sure. She thought she had made it clear to him that she didn’t care about his “strength” in these times, she just wanted him to get through them, whatever the means. Yet, he only seemed to don this look of despair and hopelessness whenever he thought she wasn’t looking, and if she tried to bring it up, he would always attempt to change the subject, or he would tell her not to worry and simply say that he was still working on “adjusting.” 

She hated when he didn’t talk to her. The seemingly insensitive man was always happy to listen to Sole’s problems and offer what advice he could, often suggesting that she discuss her own issues as a form of therapy. But God forbid she tries to get him to do the same. Sole sighed as she mulled over what to do, and noticed Danse’s head twitch to the side, listening, before his gaze dropped down to focus on his task.

He’s been working on that same spot for almost an hour. If it’s not out yet, I don’t think it ever will be. Sole looked around the room, trying to find something that could possibly serve as a proper distraction for Danse, and her eyes fell to the wooden stereo below the window in the living room. She had left it there because she simply didn’t have the heart to scrap the old thing. Too many good memories surrounded it. Memories of her and Nate, dancing the night away as the records spun on and on playing soft love songs until the sun rose; of her rocking Shaun in her arms as she mosied around the living room, listening to the nursery rhyme vinyls that she had received as gifts at her baby shower... But those memories, they were from another life.

Sole shook her head. This is about him, she thought, not me. I can deal with my shit later. Right now, I need to focus on Danse.

She huffed another sigh, this time a bit louder, and watched as Danse ceased his hand movements and tilted his ear towards her again.

“Is everything alright?” He turned to look at where she sat, and Sole tried to look melancholic.

“It’s just… You know… nevermind, it’s not important.” Just as she assumed he would, Danse stood up and walked inside the house, setting the piece of armor and the rag on the table, and pulled out a chair so he could sit beside her. He looked down at her hands, which rested on top of the table near her empty coffee mug. She could practically see the sweat beading on his forehead as he hesitantly brought one of his large hands to rest over the top of her own. Ever since he found out what he was, he’s been afraid to touch me. So... this is a good sign, at least.

“If something’s wrong, I want to know.” He said as he looked up to meet her gaze, his worried expression matching the concern she was feeling towards him. Sole took a breath to appear as though she was steadying herself.

“It’s just… being in this house. It’s great, I mean, it’s still my home and everything, and I don’t want to go anywhere else, but…” she trailed off, her troubled expression only half-feigned at this point, given the truth behind her words. His eyes never wavered, silently encouraging her to continue.

“Some things are harder to look at than others. And that damn stereo over there just has to be staring straight at me every time I sit down at the table, it’s the hardest one for me to see. It's just, it was a house-warming present from my parents. They gave it to me and Nate after the wedding, and now… well, there are no more records to play on it. They were all ruined, and even if they weren't, I don’t think the thing would work anyway. But every time I see it, it reminds me of the people I’ve lost. My parents… Nate… even Shaun.” Sole didn’t have to fake the tears that came unbidden to her eyes as she recalled the memories of her loved ones, and she knew Danse hadn’t missed a thing when he started rubbing her hand softly with his. They sat there in silence for a moment, as Danse tried to reassure her with his gentle touch.

Then, still remaining silent, Danse stood, reaching his hand forward to brush his thumb over Sole’s cheek, wiping away the tear that had fallen. He then turned towards the living room, but instead of going straight to the stereo, as Sole thought he might, Danse opened the side door that led to the covered driveway. She watched as he doubled back, now approaching the stereo. Sole wasn’t sure what she had expected him to do when she mentioned her problem to him; maybe offer to help her take the thing apart, or try and see if it still worked, or simply give her another perspective on how she should view the piece of 200-year-old furniture. Whatever she expected, it certainly hadn’t been this. 

Danse squatted down in front of the large wooden beast of a stereo, wrapped his broad arms almost all the way around it, and stood, lifting the whole damn thing up until he was standing completely upright with the stereo held firmly to his chest. Sole’s mouth hung open as she remained seated at the table, seemingly paralyzed by the shock of what she was witnessing, as Danse sauntered awkwardly towards the exit. A thick vein protruded from his neck as he twisted the piece of furniture to fit through the door, and made his way out into the driveway.

Sole heard a groan from outside, accompanied by the sound of something hard hitting concrete. She stood up, prepared to head outside and see what exactly he’d done with her “problem,” but before she reached the doorway, she heard him call from outside,

“You can’t still see it, can you?”

“Um… no. But Danse, is it-- I mean, are you okay? It took like, four people to bring that thing in when we first moved it to the house.” The brawny ex-soldier appeared in the doorway, his chest still heaving from the effort of wrestling the wooden monster outside. He nodded to her,

“I'm fine." He huffed, "You don’t need to go out there. I’ll take it apart later, if you���d like. Or we can store it somewhere for the time being.” She shook her head at him, a little smile touching her lips. Even after everything he’s been through, he's still always looking out for me. Even with something as small and insignificant as this.

“You know,” she said quietly, “you didn’t have to do that.” Danse looked down at his feet, seemingly searching for something to say in response.

“But thank you.” Sole finished, and his eyes came back up to meet hers. For a moment, she saw a spark return to Danse’s amber eyes as the smallest hint of a smile softened his expression, and Sole felt hope. Hope for him overcoming his grief in this time of crisis, and hope for herself in being able to move on from the memories that had kept her chained to her past for so long. Together, she felt like the two of them could overcome anything.

Deacon:

     “Yes. Two please.” Sole said as Takahashi voiced the only question he ever seemed to ask. The robot placed two bowls of scrumptious smelling power noodles in front of her, and she reached for the bag of caps hanging from her belt. As she looked down to count her money, she heard a clatter of bottlecaps hitting the counter beside her.

“Got it covered. Come on, let’s dig in.” Deacon grabbed a bowl in each hand and headed over to a couple of empty seats at the bar.

“I thought you were still trying to stay undercover?" Sole gestured to the Diamond City guard outfit that the spy donned. "Doesn’t it kinda ruin the illusion if you’re seen in public with me?” She said as she followed him over, sealing up her cap purse once again.

“What? You’ve never seen one of these guys at the noodle stand? Cuz I sure have. Just don’t talk to me, and I’ll be good.” Sole shook her head as she took a seat beside him, instantly deciding to ignore his request.

“Hey officer, I’ve got a question.” Sole swirled her chopsticks around the steaming bowl in front of her, before taking a bite.

“Yes, citizen?”

“Hold on--” she said through a mouthful of noodles.

Deacon laughed as he looked at her full mouth,

“Why--” He tried to talk through his bout of chuckling, “Why would you say you’re going to ask me a question and then take a big bite of food? What did you think would happen?”

Deacon thought he heard her tell him to ‘shut up,’ but it was hard to tell, given the noodles that filled her mouth, and the fact that she was nearly choking in her own fit of laughter.

Eventually, she managed to swallow her food successfully, and was finally able to get some words out.

"No, okay, serious question--" Deacon interrupted her with a snap of his fingers,

"Serious answer." Her genuine curiosity forced Sole to ignore him, and continue with her question.

"Tell me, why do you always pay for everything?" She asked.

"Ma'am, I am a law-abiding security officer. I always pay for the products that I intend to consume."

"I said serious, Deacon."

"Hey, shush!" He brought a hand up to Sole's mouth at the mention of his name, "What part of undercover did you not get?" She cocked a brow at his faked panic expression, noting the grin that he was trying to hide, as he lowered his head and turned back to his noodles.

"Like, okay," she continued, expanding on her inquiry, "whenever we go anywhere, you always pay for everything, and it's really odd. I've never met anyone in the wasteland who's done that, everyone's too busy trying to keep themselves alive to worry about paying for others. So, what? Are you, like, rich or something? I mean, c'mon, what's the deal? I have caps on me all the time, you know that, right?"

"Oh?" Sole saw his eyebrows rise above the tops of his sunglasses as he turned to look at her, "you don't think I'm doing this out of the goodness of my cold, black, heart, do you? No, I'm running a tab over here, honey. You owe me, big time." Sole narrowed her eyes at him, her uncertainty keeping her lips sealed.

"You mean, you didn’t know? Look, I don't know what to tell you," Deacon continued, "I thought you knew! Man, I'm glad you found out this way. Now it won't be such a rude awakening when the invoice comes."

Deacon turned back to his noodles, shaking his head at the thought. Sole's gaze bore into him, trying to figure out his level of seriousness. I really wish I was better at this. This is why I believed he was a synth for a month and a half.

"And if I don't have the money… you're not gonna call out a hit on me or anything, are you?"

“Hmm," he brought a hand to his chin, stroking his finger over it animatedly, "surely there must be some way you could pay me back…” He turned to look at her, wiggling his eyebrows as he did so, and she rolled her eyes, looking back to her noodles as she scoffed.

"Hey! What's with the face! I was talking about community service. Y'know, helping the children, and the elderly, all that good stuff. Get your mind out of the gutter, perv. And to think, I was going to have you volunteering at the children's hospital next week."

Sole instantly regretted taking another bite, as she tried desperately to fend off a fit of giggling in an effort to keep from choking again.

"I can't keep up with you Deacon," she said as she swallowed her food. "You're gonna kill me one of these days."

"Eh, don't worry, I can pay for the funeral." Sole raised a hand and shoved him in the shoulder playfully as he grinned at her.

"Okay, really, though. You do know I can pay occasionally, right?"

"Yeah, I know, I'm your partner, remember? I'm pretty much right next to you whenever you get paid.”

"So… then, why do you do it?"

"Do what?" Sole's nostrils flared at his obnoxious question.

"No? Joke didn’t land? Okay. Serious time," he flung his hands in the air as if surrendering, "I read about something… wasn't it, like, customary before the war to pay for stuff for your… friends?" Sole scrunched her eyebrows in thought,

"Friends? Not really. Significant other? Yeah, a little more common." She looked to where Deacon stared down at his noodles.

Is that, is he... blushing?

"But hey, I don't mind if you don't." She finished, tilting her head forward, in an attempt to catch Deacon's eye. She spotted a flushed little grin spread on his face, before he leaned his head back, restoring his cool composure.

"Oopsies, sorry about that, then. But I did warn you, I'm pretty new to this whole friend thing. So… you know, that's on you."

Hancock: 

     The ghoul lounged comfortably on the couch in the Old State House, idly playing with his combat knife as he waited for Sole to finish readying herself for their outing.

“Ahhh!” 

Hancock leapt from his place on the couch at the sound of Sole’s shriek, his combat knife instinctively falling into a position poised for violence.

He ran across the hall, crashing through the door and into the bedroom. Teeth bared and eyes wide, his head lashed from side to side in search of Sole’s assailant. He spotted her, cowering in the corner as she raised a shaky hand to point at the opposite side of the room.

Hancock’s glare followed Sole’s fear-stricken gaze, and he started towards the desk in the corner she had pointed to, but ultimately failed to see what it was causing her distress.

He turned back to her, an eyebrow cocked, as he raised the silent question of what had been the cause of her terror.

“On the desk!” She said, pointing towards it again, this time with greater intensity. Hancock slowly approached the corner of the room, knife still at the ready, as his eyes continued to search for any sign of… well, anything, really. An exasperated smile spread across his lips as his eyes fell to your attacker. A small, brown, spider picked its way through the objects littering the top of the desk, and Hancock had to hold back a laugh. 

“This is what had you all riled up? Oh, sweetheart, he’s just a little spider. C’mon now, he won’t hurt ya.”

“You don't know that.” She said firmly, her round eyes still trained on the desk. It had sounded like a joke, but her expression remained serious.

“Alright, you want me to get rid of him for you?” She nodded her head vigorously, and he chuckled as he turned his attention to the unsuspecting arachnid. He watched as it delicately stepped over a series of writing utensils, and Hancock frowned. Bringing his knife up to the top of the desk, he rested the flat of his blade directly in the spider’s path,

“That’s it, up you go, little guy.” He said quietly, as it stepped onto his steel vessel. Hancock twisted the knife around in his grip as the spider crawled around it, and made his way to the balcony. Once outside, he tipped his knife to the railing, encouraging the spider to crawl off the tip of the blade. Once the spider was safely making its way along the top of the railing, Hancock turned back towards the doorway.

“There,” he said, stepping back inside, “Now he can’t hurt ya, he’s all the way out there.”

“You… you didn’t kill it?” She asked, tentatively standing up.

“Nah, we only hurt the ones who hurt somebody else first, remember?”

“You don’t know that he didn’t hurt anybody.” She mumbled as Hancock sauntered over to her.

“Aw, give him a chance, maybe he can change, y’know? He doesn't really seem like the troublemaking type to me, anyhow.” He brought his hands to your waist, a smug expression playing on his face.

“Oh yeah, just like the way you always tell people you’ve changed?” She said, sliding her hands up his chest to rest them on his shoulders. “Way I see it, you’re still just as bad an influence on me as when I met you.” She said, a playful glint dancing in her eyes.

“Hmm, maybe you’re right, sunshine. Maybe I can't change any more. Maybe it's just my nature to be a bad influence on you.” He said quietly, a wolfish grin spreading across his face as he leaned into her. 

“Huh, maybe so. But bad influence or not," she pulled away from him slightly, to look up into his smoky eyes, "you really did save me back there. And, I know it seems silly... but I am grateful." His eyes softened at her little confession and, though he knew this too was silly, he couldn’t help but feel a swell in his chest at the thought of "saving" her. 

“And I’ll always be here to save you... from any spiders we happen to come across.” He pecked her lips tenderly, their close proximity practically forcing his mouth to hers. He should’ve known better, once he had a taste, he couldn’t get enough of her. 

“Even though,” He continued, as he pressed a kiss to her nose, “I’ve seen you,” then to her right cheek, “take down,” now her left, “deathclaws,” another to her jaw, “single handedly,” and now down to her neck, “I’ll be sure to handle all the unruly arachnids.” He whispered into the crook of her neck, before moving upwards again and pressing one more kiss to her forehead. He watched, grinning like an idiot in love, as a crimson flush crept up her cheeks. He wasn’t sure if it was from the embarrassment she felt regarding her phobia, or from the heat of his lips on her skin, but he decided it didn’t matter. Either way, he found it irresistibly adorable, and with that, he set his sights on her lips once more. 

MacCready: 

     MacCready sat on the floor, legs crossed, as he counted his ammunition cartridges. There were four of the .308, six of the .50, ten of the 10mm, and a few of the .38. There certainly wasn’t as much as he’d hoped there’d be, but he wasn't worried. Sole always seemed to have ammo to spare, and she wasn't stingy with it like he was. It was yet another perk to being with her.

He gathered his full magazines together near the ammo bag resting beside him, so he could begin placing them inside in preparation for their next outing.

"How are you doing over there, babe?" He asked as he stored the outlying bullets in little bags.

"I think... you know what, nevermind. I'm good." MacCready ceased his action, turning to look at where Sole knelt on the carpet of her Diamond City home. A pile of bullets and empty magazines surrounded her, the stack of seemingly full cartridges was pitifully small compared to his own.

"You, ah, need some help?"

"... No.” 

"Mmhm, okay.” he narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously, but she wouldn’t look up at him.

“Well,” he continued, “I'm going to put my full mags in the ammo bag, why don't I grab yours too." The sniper stood up, and made his way over to her, bending down to grab the cartridges that looked full.

"Wait! No, these, um, these ones aren't done yet." MacCready's eyebrows furrowed, but the shadow of a smile began to spread to his lips as he realized what was going on.

"So," he said, kneeling down so he could see her pretty little embarrassed face. "You haven't finished loading any of them?"

“No." She said quietly, refusing to meet his gaze. MacCready lowered his head so that he was looking up at her as her eyes stayed fixed on the floor. A lock of hair was draped over her forehead, obstructing his view. He reached a hand up and gently pushed it behind her ear, leaning in to give her nose a small peck with his lips.

"You want some help?" He said as Sole raised her gaze to meet his, a small blush forming on her cheeks. She didn't say anything, only nodded yes.

"Alright, you know, you could’ve just asked. I might have said ‘no’ the first time, but you know me, I eventually would’ve come around." MacCready said as he set to work with the magazines that had appeared full, but in reality, only housed half of the amount of ammunition that they could fit within them. He snickered in understanding, it really was the second half of bullets that was hard to load.

"Thank you, sweetie. You’re just so much better at it than I am." She said as she watched his practiced fingers make quick work of what probably would've taken her another hour.

"Of course... but, you are paying me for this, right?"

"Ohh, I think we might be able to work something out." She said, a sly grin playing at her lips.

He just chuckled at her words, but she could've sworn his fingers starting moving a whole lot faster at her suggestive phrasing.

Nick: 

“Tell me, why is this now a regular part of my job duties?" Ellie asked as she finished sewing up yet another tear in Nick's trench coat. "You know you're just going to end up with more holes in this coat every time you leave the office, and I don't seem to recall you ever caring about this old thing's appearance before…" she trailed off.

Nick knew that Ellie was fishing for answers. One specific one in particular, but he liked the ambiguity of the situation. It was this little game he and his secretary would play. He would leave clues here and there that pointed to the nature of his and Sole's relationship and wait to see if Ellie would say anything. All while she continued to try and force the truth from him verbally. He wasn't going to lose this round.

"What? A private detective can't keep up appearances for his clients? I think it's just good for business."

"I think it's a load of bologna. You know we gave Sole her own trench coat after she saved you, right? She could just wear her own, rather than steal yours every time you two go out on a case."

"What kinda fun would that be? I don't mind it, it's not like I get cold anyway. And the poor little lady never knows how long we're going to be gone, so I don't think it's her fault when we're out after dark and she wants to wear it."

Ellie rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh as she poked the needle back through the worn, beige fabric once again.

"She's got you so tightly wound around her finger, it's a wonder she doesn't call you 'Jared'."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know, it’s something I’ve read about, I guess it was a ring shop, or a jewelry company, or something before the war. I thought it sounded clever. Just humor me, won't you?"

The synth just shook his head, uttering a low chuckle as he watched Ellie tighten the thread, forcing the last hole closed.

"There." She said, tying up the last bit of string left over, before cutting off the excess. "It's done." 

"Perfect, thanks a million, doll. I'll see you soon, I've just gotta head out for a--"

"Date?" She finished the sentence for him suggestively, raising her eyebrows in question.

"A case. We're going to head out on a case, Ellie."

"Uh huh, sure. Well, here," she handed him back the coat, "now she doesn't need to worry about the cold air seeping in through all those holes. Let me know if you want me to insulate the damn thing when winter rolls around."

Valentine smiled, an uncharacteristically goofy smile, at Ellie's words. He was so obvious, why didn't he just come clean already? 

"Will do, I’m sure she’ll enjoy that. Thanks again, Ellie. You're the best."

"And don't you forget it." She said, turning back to the mound of paperwork still on her desk beside her sewing supplies.

“Ah well, I’ll get him to admit to it one of these days.” Ellie mumbled as she began sorting through the files in front of her.

Piper:

     Piper looked up at Scarlet from the table in the corner of the Dugout Inn, 

"Yes, so I think we'll both have a nuka cola to start off. Then I'll do the crispy squirrel bits, and she'll have the Salisbury steak." Piper pointed her finger to Sole, who was busy looking down at the table, before making a last-minute decision, "Aaand you'd better bring some of those snack cakes at the end, too." 

"Hm, as usual." Scarlet chuckled at that as her pen scribbled across the notepad in her hand. 

"But that sounds good, you two. I'll have that out in just a minute." The waitress grabbed their menus, Sole reaching up to hand it to her with a smile on her face before turning to peer at her partner from across the table. She waited for Scarlet to disappear around the corner to the kitchen before speaking.

"You really don't find it annoying?" She asked. 

"What?" Piper loosened the scarf around her neck as she looked questioningly at Sole. 

"I know that I ask you to order for me whenever we go out to eat, or drink, and it's gotta be getting a little old at this point, right?" 

"No, not at all, Blue!" Piper said as she took her hat off and placed it on the table, mussing her hair a bit with one hand. "This reporter actually finds it to be pret-ty endearing. It's like, the one thing you can't do. You’re good at, like, everything else, but this I get to help you with. It's a welcome change." Piper's hands dropped to the top of the table as she began absent-mindedly fiddling with her silverware. But her eyes stayed on the woman across the table as Sole smiled at her, still appearing a little embarrassed. 

"I don't know why I can't do it," Sole tried to explain, "I've just never been able to order for myself, even before the war. Just one of those bizarre anxiety things, I guess."

"Well, like I said, I don’t mind at all. In fact, I think it's cute." 

 Preston:

     Sole approached her Lieutenant, shaking her head at him, and she saw him sigh.

“No, the river just keeps going until it reaches a ravine." She told him, "And it’s too steep to climb down. Any luck on your end?”

“Hmm, not really. It's a little more shallow upstream, but it’s still about ten feet wide.”

“Damn.” She said, “We need to get across.” A settlement had sent a distress call across radio freedom almost an hour ago, if Sole and Preston took any longer, they might be too late.

“I guess we’ll just have to go for it.” She said, her face painting a picture of clear disgust at the thought of wading through the murky water.

“Well, let’s at least head upstream a bit. To the shallow part.”

“Okay.” Sole said begrudgingly, her footsteps unconsciously heavy as she followed her companion to the shallow part. Not shallow enough, I bet.

And she was right. As the pair arrived, Preston turned to Sole to gauge her reaction, noticing the way her nose wrinkled at the sight of the brown, swirling water.

Preston heaved a sigh, and started forward. Before he reached the waterline, he turned to see Sole still standing back, feet seemingly glued to the muddy ground. He couldn’t help but smile sympathetically at her, eyebrows creasing upwards as he watched her eyes look longingly at the far shore.

“Come here.” He said.

“I know, I know. Just start going, I’ll follow.” Preston chuckled at the exasperation in her voice. Instead of repeating his command, he simply walked over to her as her eyes remained locked on the other side of the river, when he reached her, he slowly pressed his hand to the small of her back.

“Hey, what are you--?” Before Sole could finish her question, Preston had scooped her up into his arms, bridal style. She let out a squeak of surprise, and he couldn’t keep himself from grinning.

“Is this okay? He asked, the brim of his hat pressing against Sole’s forehead as he looked at her.

“A warning would’ve been nice.” Preston laughed, shaking his head as he adjusted his grip on her, ensuring she was secure before making his way towards the river.

“Hold onto me.” He said, and Sole wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders.

“Ready?” Sole nodded to him, and Preston took a step forward, frigid water seeping in through his boots as he waded in.

“Wait, are you sure you want to do this?” She said, her eyes trained on the river as it raised up to Preston’s knees.

“I might be wrong, General, but I think I already am.” He said, the amusement in his voice faint as he gritted his teeth against the cold.

She felt his body shutter as he continued forward, the water reaching up almost to his waist, as he held Sole up higher to ensure it wouldn’t reach her. She let out a small sigh of relief as they reached the end of the channel. The water became more shallow, and Preston quickened his pace with each step that brought him closer to their destination.

Once completely out of the water, and past the muddy shoreline, Preston finally set Sole down gently. As her feet touched the ground, Sole kept her arms wound about Preston’s neck.

“Thank you, love.” She said, her voice soft as she addressed him as her partner rather than her Lieutenant.

“It was my pleasure, m’lady.” He said, briefly removing his hat from his head as he did so. Sole smiled at him warmly, but detected the faint chattering of his teeth, and when she looked down, she couldn’t help but notice the goosebumps littering his skin. 

“Oh, Preston…” Sole said as she pressed herself to him, rubbing her hands against his back and arms quickly, in an attempt to warm him with her friction. She felt hot air wash over her neck as he released a shaky breath of relief, leaning into her touch. The pair stood there for a moment, Preston syphoning off Sole’s warmth as she tried to repay him for his earlier act of kindness. Her hands slowed from her vigorous rubbing to a more tender sort of touch, before Preston’s head shot up.

“Shit, Sole, the settlement! We’ve got to move!”

X6-88: 

     This had become a common routine of theirs, and X6 wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it. Every time they were in Sole’s Diamond City home, she would insist on making dinner for the two of them. That, X6 didn’t mind too much; although, after consuming nothing but food supplements in the Institute for so long, it did take some getting used to. But eating the food wasn’t the issue, it was the making of it that had him perplexed. 

As far as he knew, Sole had been the one to install the shelves in her kitchen; and yet, every time she was in need of a spice of some sort, or a condiment, or one of her dishes, she would ask X6 for assistance, given that the shelves were apparently too high for her to reach. Why Sole continued to store her items on the too-tall shelves, he couldn’t begin to guess. But here she went again, asking him to reach for the box of blamco mac n’ cheese on the top shelf, the highest one, one that he could barely even reach. X6 decided it was time to voice his confusion.

“Ma’am?”

“Yes?” She asked distractedly as she focused on the strength of the flame burning on her stove.

“Why do you use these shelves?”

“What else would I use, silly?” X6 scrunched up his face at that, trying to hold back a verbal scoff at her wording.

“Would you rather I just store everything on the floor?”

“Well, no. That would… hardly be sanitary.” He wasn’t sure if she was joking with him or not. Did she think he was joking with her?

“Why do you ask, X?” She grabbed the box from his hand as he extended it towards her, and began tearing at the top of it with her finger.

“Well, it seems nonsensical to me, for you to continue placing all of your items out of your reach. What happens if I’m not here?” Sole placed a saucepan filled with water over the stove and turned to look at him.

“But you are here.” she said, shrugging, “What? Don’t you like helping me out in the kitchen?”

X6 blinked. What the hell did this have to do with what he liked?

“Well… I don’t dislike it. I’m just having trouble with-- I don’t-- I just... do you want me to fix the shelves so they are the right height for you?”

“No, I like them the way they are.”

X6 felt his eye twitch from beneath his shades. Confusion built up inside him, making the courser feel as though he might explode.

“Ma’am--” His voice faltered as he realized he didn’t know what else to say.

“I know they’re not practical, X. But you can reach them, and I like that about them. Even when I’m here alone, the fact that I can’t make dinner without you makes me smile.” X6 furrowed his eyebrows. That explanation didn’t help at all.

“Don’t you get hungry?”

“I'm not completely helpless, you know, I can usually figure something out.” She attempted to look annoyed at his question, but her grin gave her away. X6 narrowed his eyes at her, still not completely satisfied with the way the conversation had gone. He was still just as confused as he was before.

“Huh.” He said, mulling over all she had said on the subject. “Perhaps... in that case, we should ensure that I am by your side for any missions near Diamond City. That way, I can be sure the future director of the Institute doesn’t go hungry.”

“Well, if you think that’s necessary, who am I to argue?” The left side of X6’s lip tilted upwards in an expression of amusement, and Sole openly smiled at him, laughing a little to herself as she turned her attention back to the boiling water on the stove.

“Can you hand me the pepper mill? Second shelf.”

“I know which shelf. But yes, I can.” He said, turning around to grab it, as Sole continued grinning to herself.

Now I just have to make sure he never looks under my bed. Sole thought. If X6 ever found the step stool she had hidden there, what would happen to her kitchen helper?

[honey-dewey]

Worthless Comforts

Pairing: Din Djarin/Reader

Word Count: 2,146

Warnings: None

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Reader shows Din the small comforts that make life worthwhile. Like sleeping in a real bed and eating three meals a day. 

Life aboard the Razor Crest was always interesting. Not necessarily bad, but not good either. Interesting. Din had hired you originally as a translator, but that role turned into mechanic and then babysitter as time moved forward. You two were close, close enough for him to share his name with you. He knew your tells and triggers, and you knew most of his. So it was no surprise when you noticed he was stressed before he did.

“You need to relax,” you said offhandedly one day while you two were traveling to Tatooine to hunt a quarry. “How do mandalorians relax?”

“We die.”

You rolled your eyes, flipping another page in your book. “Okay Mr. This is the Way. When did you last eat something?”

Din shrugged. “It was that Bantha meat you gave me.”

“That was yesterday,” you said, sitting up straighter and staring at Din’s helmet. “When are we landing?”

“A few hours.”

You sat back, still eyeing Din’s tightly wound figure. “Okay.”

Tatooine was not your favorite planet. Boba and Fennec made it better, and Cobb was always fun. Peli gave you shit but made you smile, and you did like traveling with the Tuskens. But no amount of decent company changed the dusty atmosphere and the blinding suns. The way the sand dug into your feet and got into every crevasse. By the time you’d reached the old Hutt Palace, you were cursing the sand and the suns and everything in between.

“Finally!” Fennec said, guiding you into the palace. “We expected you last week!”

“Picked up another quarry on the way,” Din explained, nodding to the guards who stood by the doors. “Had the time.”

Fennec rolled her eyes. “Don’t you ever relax?”

“That’s what I said!” You said, nudging Din. He sighed and shrugged you off.

Boba was happy to see you both in one piece, and he was especially eager to see Grogu asleep in the carrier across your front. “Your rooms are open, as always,” he said with a grin when you suppressed a yawn. “Go unwind. The quarry hasn’t moved in three months. You can wait another few days. I know traveling the way you do can be stressful.”

Before Din could open his mouth and ruin it, you spoke. “Thank you so much Boba. We appreciate it.”

As night fell, you ate, drank, and talked. It was fun, and Fennec made for excellent company. When you finally retired, you found Grogu asleep in Din’s room. He must’ve taken the child when you weren’t looking.

“Sneaky bastard,” you said affectionately, shutting yourself in your own room and falling asleep as soon as your head hit the pillows.

You woke to loud thunder and the sound of rainfall. Confused, you rubbed your eyes and got dressed, forgoing your armor and weapons. You barely even put shoes on, sliding into leather flats instead of your supple boots.

Boba was already on the throne when you arrived in the throne room, Fennec on his right. He looked up as you walked in, an easy, relaxed grin on his face. “It seems you and Djarin have found yourselves trapped here,” he said. “Tatooine rarely has rainstorms, but when it does, they are dangerous. You will stay here until the rain passed.”

You noticed the final sentence was a command, and you nodded. “Thank you,” you said. “Din would’ve made me walk in the rain had you not kept us here, I’m sure of it.”

Fennec laughed. “Find him,” she said. “We have water for baths now. He smells like a bantha.”

You laughed. “Thank you again,” you said. “I’ll go find Din and tell him.”

Din’s room was locked, as it usually was at night, but once you knocked, he opened the door within a few minutes. “What?”

“Boba told us to stay until the rain passes,” you said. “King’s orders. Fennec also said there’s water for baths now, and she recommends you take one.”

Din nodded, stretching a tiny bit. You smiled. “Maybe we can take this chance and actually relax,” you said.

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

You rolled your eyes as you and Din walked to the baths. Tatooine was big on communal bath spaces, so bathing was always interesting. But you’d figured it out.

As you walked, you examined Din. He’d done the same as you, forgoing his usual armor in favor of his long sleeved brown undershirt, brown pants with the black patches, and boots. He was still wearing the helmet, but not the head covering that hid his neck. The high collar of his undershirt did conceal most of his skin though. He looked comfortable, especially with Grogu tucked up under his arm.

The bath room was empty when you arrived, and you immediately began to fill two of the dry pools. Each one was small, meant for one person, but all the sunken pools were open to each other. No privacy.

While you filled the tubs, Din found a wooden divider, dragging it over and separating your pools. When you were done, you collected soaps and towels before hopping behind the divider and stripping out of your clothes. You could hear Din doing the same, folding his clothes as he took them off. Finally, you heard the sound of the helmet being removed and set down, and then the ripple of water as Din got into his pool.

You and him soaked, side by side, separated by the divider, for a while. The water was warm, and the smell of rain that filtered through the palace made your eyes heavy. “Din?”

“Hm?”

You sighed, leaning back so you could stretch your legs out. “How long do you think this rain will last?”

“Rain storms on Tatooine are aggressive,” Din said from behind the barrier. “But it should only last a few days.”

A crack of thunder sent a small shock through your body, but you calmed quickly, relaxing into the warmth of the water again. “Okay. I can do a few days.”

An hour later, once the water had gone cold and you’d scrubbed all the grit from your body, you got out and toweled off. Din, judging from the sounds, was doing the same. When you two reunited, you both smelled better, and Din seemed a bit more relaxed. Well, relaxed for him. He was still guarded, but it seemed he was finally starting to realize he was safe.

The palace was mostly empty. The rain seemed to deter most potential guests, so the only people around were Fennec, Boba, Din, and you. You and Din swung by the kitchen to grab some food, you carrying the food while Din held Grogu. It wasn’t an easy task, considering just how much Grogu squirmed. By the time you’d carried the food to Din’s room, Grogu had bitten Din twice in a desperate attempt to reach you.

“Alright you little Womp Rat,” you said, setting Grogu in his cradle with his food. “Stop messing with us!”

Grogu pouted, but let you walk away without crying too much. You sat beside Din, looking over your kitchen raid spoils. “Damn,” you said. “We did good.”

Din snorted, and you scrunched your nose at him. “What do you want?”

“This,” Din said, reaching over you to grab a metal container that was warm to the touch. “Please.”

“Go for it,” you said, taking something you didn’t recognize, but it smelled heavenly. “You have permission to eat as much as you want, and please do, because I know you don’t eat enough on the Crest. Turn around though, I want to be able to eat with you.”

Din turned, and you sat with your back pressing to his. He seemingly got the message and removed his helmet, slowly eating whatever he’d taken.

“Y’know,” you said, stabbing another glazed slice of fruit from your dish. “We actually get three nutritious meals a day while we’re here. No ration blocks twice a day.”

Din hummed, and you could feel him chewing when he put his head back and pressed it to yours. “Those ration blocks really are shit,” he decided softly. “But I can’t cook.”

“I can,” you said. “If we store ingredients on the Crest, we should absolutely be able to have meals like this. And I don’t mind cooking,” you added, knowing Din was likely to protest. “How’d you sleep last night?”

“Decent,” Din said. “Feels good to sleep on a mattress.”

You laughed, reaching to grab a container of cake. “Told you!” You said. “You sleep on that damned rubber pad, I can’t believe it.”

“You sleep on the same kind of rubber pad,” Din pointed out. “Yours is just bigger.”

“Yeah,” you said slowly. “The mattress is really nice here. Why don’t we visit more often?”

Din was quiet for a second while he ate another bite of food. “I don’t like Tatooine,” he finally said.

“Preach,” you said, pulling Grogu’s cradle closer and feeding him some of your cake. “Want dessert?”

You and Din shared food back and forth until you were both full, Din finally relenting and admitting he wanted a nap. At which you closed your eyes so he could get up and get into his bed.

You didn’t open your eyes until you heard the curtains around the bed shut, a feature Boba had put onto the bed specifically for Din. When you opened your eyes, you saw the helmet sitting atop Din’s folded shirt. Oh right, he slept shirtless.

Standing and stretching, you quietly kept Grogu occupied until he fell asleep too, and then you decided to find Fennec and maybe practice sparring.

You scooped Grogu up and set him down on the bed, leaving him to crawl his way to Din’s warm side. As the curtains shifted, you got a tiny peek at Din’s sleeping form.

He slept on his side with his arms up, covering his face. His hands were tangled in his hair, and you stared, entranced by the scar pebbled expanse of Din’s chest. It was the most skin you’d ever seen on him, and you almost wanted to touch it.

“Are you getting in too?” Din asked sleepily, and you yelped, jumping away from the bed like it might hurt you. You heard shuffling from inside, and then the curtain rustled. Before Din could push it open, you slapped your hand over your eyes, determined not to look.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to go spar with Fennec,” you said, trying to sound firm despite the wobble to your voice. “Goodnight.”

Din chuckled softly, and you heard more rustling before strong and very warm arms wrapped around you. “Please come nap with us,” he said, leaning on you. His hand found your wrist and tried to gently tug your hand off your eyes, but you stubbornly refused.

You whimpered, resolve softening at Din’s half asleep voice and almost unfairly warm body. “Din,” you said. “Your face”.

“My Creed has long since been reforged. You can see my face. Fennec and Bona both have.”

When Din pulled against your hand again, he met no resistance. Your eyes met his first, and you swear your breath stopped altogether. “Din.”

“Yes?” Din said, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. “Can we nap please? I’m tired.”

“Of course you’re tired,” you said, your wits finally returning to you. “You haven’t taken a break in a decade.”

Din led you back to the bed, and you discarded your shoes before crawling under the blankets beside him. Grogu cooed when you joined the cuddle pile, and you snuggled up to him and Din, deciding to close your eyes only for a second.

When you opened them again, it was to a loud crack of thunder. The suns had set already, and in the dark, you could barely make out the outline of Din’s face. His curls were unruly, the mess visible even in the darkness. You sighed, resigning yourself to sleeping beside Din, especially because his arm was tossed over your waist. You were a bit surprised to find that Din was big on cuddles.

It wasn’t long before you were drifting off again, absently watching the rise and fall of Din’s chest while he slept. You wondered faintly if this was the longest he’d slept since he’d last been here. He often napped in three hour increments, just for convenience.

“You awake?”

“Well I am now,” you grumbled, watching Din’s eyelashes flutter as he blinked, his silhouette shifting when he rolled to his side. “Why’re you up?”

Din yawned. “Felt you move,” he said softly. “Woke me up.”

“Ah. Sorry,” you said, settling back down and feeling your eyes droop closed. “I’m exhausted.”

“Same,” Din said, pulling you close. “Thank you.”

You smiled against Din’s chest, curving so you were practically molded to his body. “Any time Din. Any time.”

[surveycorpsbabie]

i prefer coffee - levi a.

an // so as much as i love all the fics of midnight tea times with levi i thought i’d put a spin on it. also don’t mind me always starting my blogs with fics about coffee

genre // fluff oh how i love levi fluff

wc // 1.4k+ unedited sorry

Insomnia may have been the bane of your existence in the past, at this point it seems more like an inconvenience. There are more pressing issues to focus and wallow on than a few hours of lost sleep. Still you found little ways to make the best of it.

Before joining the army you saved all the spare money you could manage to buy coffee beans. It was a luxury you knew, there were only a couple greenhouses in the upper ring that could even grow the plants. Still you couldn’t help but continue your habit of saving spare cash for coffee.

The only time you dared make it were on nights that sleep refused to bed you. The kitchens were bound to be empty at 2 am which was all you could ask for. Although you got why you still couldn’t stand the curious noses and endless asks for sips of your rare drink.

So you learned that early mornings were the best, and oddly enough the ritual helped you sleep.

When you first joined the Scouts you didn’t realize there was another night owl. You felt unbelievably embarrassed when you quite literally bumped into Captain Levi, this caused you to spill your drink all over both your boots. You had been saving up for the good beans to celebrate graduating from the cadets and they ended up spilled like mud on your new captain’s boots.

He offered to make you a new cup, you tried to refuse saying it was your fault but he didn’t seem to be listening. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you had been drinking coffee and not tea. You also didn’t expect him to have any and definitely didn’t think he’d want to share with a scout who hasn’t been outside the walls yet.

Since then you often found yourself sharing conversations with the raven haired captain in the late hours of the night. He often made tea for the both of you. You’d often find yourself hiding a small bag of beans in your pocket when he beat you to chase and you couldn’t make your brew before running into him.

He seemed to enjoy having someone to keep conversation with, you enjoyed his dry jokes and seemingly never ending scowl.

-

You smiled to yourself when you opened the door to the kitchen and found it empty. On your last day off you bought some preground coffee from a new farmer in the interior and were looking forward to trying it. Finding and trying a more affordable product always puts an extra pep in your step.

You hummed lightly as you watched the water come to a boil. You began to pour the hot water over the grounds. Eyes closed, you enjoy the sweet subtlety in the air and the sound of the coffee drips, they create a gentle harmony that you can’t get enough of.

The sound of someone clearing their throat cut through your moment of peace and pulled your attention to the door.

“Oh! Captain you startled me” you said with a nervous laugh. You wondered for a moment how long he was near, maybe if you had been paying attention you would have heard the echoes from his steps.

He rolled his eyes before muttering a soft “you can call me Levi.”

“But you’re my captain, sir” you tease “I thought you were all for respecting your superiors.”

“I am.” a man of many words, as always. Sometimes you wonder what goes on in that brain of his; why does he make conversations so hard to predict.

He stepped further into the dimly lit kitchen and watched with a bored expression as you finish making your drink.

“Coffee?”

You turn for a moment to soak up his appearance, he had one eyebrow raised slightly clearly curious.

“Yes I finally have a moment to try out this new blend.”

Perhaps your eyes sparkled when you talked about your secret passion or maybe you were making up the look of intrigue that Levi now wore.

He only hummed, taking a moment to think. A trait you noticed quite early on in your acquaintanceship, you hesitate to call him a friend...or more.

“I didn’t know you liked coffee.”

“Well I don’t get to enjoy it much, and you’re clearly a tea person so it never came up I guess.”

“Tch and I’ve been making you tea for years like an idiot.”

You couldn’t help but laugh “well I enjoy your tea so don’t worry too much about it. Now did you want to stand in the kitchen all night or do you want to sit down?”

-

You had almost forgotten about that night, days passed and soon weeks passed too. New cadets had come and with them lots of paperwork. Levi had asked you to help a couple times a week from now on, apparently asking said cadets to help was out of the question. As the captain so eloquently said ‘they are all useless shits’.

You gave a gentle knock on the office door, you knew you were already expected but still it felt off to drop any formalities with humanity's strongest.

A muffled ‘come in’ rang through from the other side of the ruffley cut door.

His office was always surprisingly warm considering the large window that should be seeping cold air into the room. Maybe it was a trick of the mind, the oil lamp gave a warm atmosphere and the smell of paper was oddly comforting.

You spotted the less than plush looking chair that sat across from the pair of eyes that watched as you make your way across the room.

He wordlessly slides you a stack of papers that were topped with a pen with one hand and a cup of presumably tea with the other.

Skimming the document you reach for the steaming cup, reading while drinking something was sometimes awkward but after many late nights you’d like to think you’ve mastered the art of reading while looking over a mug's rim.

To your surprise the warm beverage was not in fact tea, but coffee. You look to Levi for answers, surely he didn’t go to all the trouble of getting this just for you.

“What’s with the face? Did you eat something off?”

Any other time you would have cracked a smile at his specific bowel focused humour but you were spiraling. You almost scoffed at yourself, it’s only a drink.

“You got me coffee?”

“You said it was only for you huh?”

Your cheeks warmed “n-no i didn’t mean...i just meant it’s so hard to get and…”

“Just say thank you and move on.”

“Thank you..”

You shakily try to focus your attention back on the paperwork but it proved a difficult task. Was it really not a big deal? No, you knew how though it was to find coffee and he must have gone to the upper ring for it. It couldn’t mean nothing then right?

Taking a deep breath you center yourself. There was a long night ahead of you and that night had no time for your reading into what drink your captain gave you really meant.

“Stop overthinking.”

“I’m not” you try to give a reassuring smile “it’s pretty basic paperwork after all.”

“Tch.” his sharp eyes scan you for a moment, he was taking another moment to think over his words. “You know I wasn’t talking about paperwork.”

Looking down again you speak, meeting his gaze felt overwhelming for once. “Then what were you talking about?” You grasp for your cup and drink, eyes locked on the swirling movement of the dark liquid.

“You're not making too much of this.”

“The coffee...or us?” you could hear your heartbeat banging in your ears, the heat from your cheeks burned and you were sure he would make note of the colour. This was it, you had been dancing around subtleties and long glances for too long. If you had misread things you’ll never be able to look him in the eyes again.

The banging of your heart was suffocating.

Was this just his moment before talking?

Was this a pause for him to think of the right words to let you down?

Were you going to have to switch squads? Maybe Hange would take you in.

“Don’t be stupid. Why would I go to all the trouble of finding overpriced beans if there was no us?”

[lucisfavoritedemon]

Something Domestic

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary: You never thought your life to be grand, but you never saw as absolutely terrible either. You were always happy with the things you had, but the one thing that you always wanted was to find love. Little do you know love is just two steps away, and across the hall.

Square Filled: Neighbor AU @marvelfluffbingo

Warnings: super cute fluff, anxious Bucky, shy reader, slight smut, implied smut, slight angst 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3573

A/N: This originally was going to be a platonic Sebastian Stan x reader fic, but I got inspired to do something else. I was somewhat inspired by a TikTok POV called Two Lost Souls by hlovesmarvelpov which is where I got the idea to write what life was like for Bucky in Romania. I want to give credit to @nix-akimbo whose art I used in the collage for this story. Pics are linked here, here, and here. Other images we're found off of Pinterest, but the collage is mine made on Canva. Everything in italics is 3rd person POV of Bucky’s thoughts. This is not beta read, so all mistakes are mine.

Enjoy!

I never knew where life would lead me. I knew I wasn’t going to find something to do to make me rich. All I really wanted was to find a good job that paid me enough to get by. Living in Romania was an absolute dream. It was so beautiful, and it was always so interesting. Everyday felt like a new adventure. At the market you never knew who was gonna show up, or what was going to happen.

One day while at the market, just shopping for some fresh produce to restock my apartment with for the week, I saw an interesting looking man. I had never seen him before, and he definitely didn’t look like he was from around here. Something about him drew me in, but I was too shy to approach him to say hello.

I was definitely at that age where I was ready to look for mister right, and finally settle down. I seemed to have met every guy in this city, and none of them were to my liking. They all seemed very bold, manly, and had egos bigger than some of the buildings. That wasn’t really something I was looking for, and to be fair it was probably just part of their personalities, no judgement there.

There was something about this stranger though that was different. Yes, he was very handsome and buff, but he looked very shy and reserved. Not something I was used to, and that probably contributed to why I was so attracted.

He seemingly glanced my way, and I turned to look away. I knew I must have been staring and I felt awkward about that. So, I quickly finished up my shopping and ran home. I really hoped though that I didn’t make him think that I found him creepy. Damn my shyness, and anxiety.

It had been a few days since I saw the stranger at the market. I was walking down the street to my office when I happened to pass him by. He seemed to pause his gaze for a quick second before looking away. I walked past him at a decent pace, hoping he would make the first move to say hi, but alas, he did not.

The week went by, and it came time for me to head back to the market to restock my produce for the week. I ended my shopping spree and turned to head home when I ran right into someone's very muscular chest. I almost fell back when the person grabbed my arm, catching me.

“Are you okay, miss?” The person asked, speaking Romanian.

“I am fine thank you.” I looked at the person, and it was the stranger I saw last week.

“You’re welcome. Sorry I knocked you over.”

“Please, don’t apologize. I was the one who bumped into you.”

“At least allow me to help you carry your groceries home.”

I nodded and handed him a bag. He gestured for me to start walking, and I led him to my apartment complex. “My place is a bit messy, I wasn’t expecting anyone to come over to see it.” I said, going to unlock the door.

“Don’t apologize, I won’t go in if you feel uncomfortable.”

“I feel bad having you follow me all this way, and not even offer you a snack or something.”

“You’re too sweet. I’m okay, doll. I’ll stay out here. It also wasn’t too out of the way for me.”

“Are you sure?” I reached my hand out to take the bag he was holding.

“I’m sure,” he handed me the bag and turned to walk away, “and if you need me, I live just across the hall.” He walked over, unlocking his door, and opening it.

I almost fell back in shock. How did I not know this man lived across the hall from me? I surely would have seen him walking out. He turned and smiled at me before walking into his apartment. I tried not to look shocked, but all this time I had no idea he was living just 5 steps away. 

I close my door quickly and go to put my produce away. I tried to keep the stranger off my mind, but that seemed like an impossible task. Then, I thought of the perfect idea, I would invite him over for dinner. I wanted to get to know him, I needed to. Put all these wandering thoughts to rest.

I made us a lovely dinner of chicken and potatoes. I set everything up to look somewhat nice, and go to knock on his door. When I went to open my door to walk out, he was standing there ready to knock on my door.

He had a bouquet of different assorted flowers. I give him a small, shy smile as he hands them to me. I, of course, take them and find a vase to put them in. As I put them in the water, I look over at him, and he looks kind of sad.

“What’s wrong?”

“Are you expecting someone? I didn’t mean to come off straight forward. I just-”

“I wasn’t technically. I was going to ask you if you wanted to join me for dinner?”

“Really?” He perked up, and I nodded my head, “I was going to ask you the same thing. A home cooked meal sounds better than one you can get at any restaurant.” He chuckled.

We sat down, and talked for hours. He avoided some of the questions I asked him, but I wasn’t going to push him for answers if he didn’t want to answer them yet. We laughed, joked, and just enjoyed each other’s company. 

“I realised that I never asked for your name, doll.” He spoke up.

“My name is Y/n. I never asked yours either.”

“I guess we both figured it would come up eventually. My real name is James, but you can call me Bucky.”

I smiled as I thought of what a lovely name that was. I didn’t ask why he preferred Bucky over James. Something in me wanted to make him love it, adore it. I wanted him to treasure his given name as I was right now.

The night came to an end much to our dismay. I didn’t want to say goodnight though. I wanted him to stay, which wasn’t like me at all. I usually said yes to one date, and that was that. I don’t know what was different about Bucky, but he brought out a new side of me. He intrigued me, and I had to know more about him.

“Until next time, doll. Promise you won’t bump into another guy before then?” He chuckled.

I giggle, “I promise. You’ll be the only guy I bump into now. At least that’s my hope.”

He kissed my cheek before walking to his door, and I could have sworn I was flying. If that was the way it felt when he kissed my cheek, what would it feel like if he kissed my lips.

~*~

Over the course of three months every Sunday Bucky and I had dinner together. We started with switching off, but slowly Bucky had been taking over our Sunday night dinners. Tonight when I went over I realised that I was slowly moving into his apartment. 

“You okay doll?” He asked, looking at my far off look.

“Yeah. I just realised it looks like I’m starting to take over your apartment.”

“That was one thing I was going to ask you about tonight.”

“I’m so sorry, I’ll pick up my stuff and take back to my place i didn’t-”

“Not that. I was going to ask if you wanted to move in together. It doesn’t have to be in my apartment, and I know we’ve only been together for a few months, but-”

“You want to move in together?”

Bucky just nods slowly, and I rush to hug him. I no longer had to wonder what it would feel like to be wrapped up in his arms. I no longer had to feel that lonely feeling I felt after our Sunday night dinners. I tried to keep my mind from racing with all the things I had wondered about. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Bucky chuckles, squeezing me back.

After dinner, we walked over to my apartment to get some extra blankets and pillows. I hoped I hadn’t rushed him into this by slowly looking like I was trying to move myself in on my own. I hadn’t even realised that our hangouts had left with me leaving my belongings all over the place.

“My place is your place now.” He spoke up, placing the blankets he was carrying on the bed.

“I didn’t rush you into this did I?”

“No. I know it seems quick, but I just get this feeling when I’m around that makes me not want to take things as slow as we probably should.”

“I was worried I was rushing you into things. I didn’t even realise that I was leaving things over at your house.”

“No. I have been planning on asking you for a few weeks now.”

I smile as we curl into bed together for the very first time. He was warm, and I felt safe laying in his arms. Laying there for the first time in a long time, I fell asleep almost immediately.

~*~

It has been 6 months since Bucky and I started seeing each other, and it has been the best 6 months of life. Even the last 3 months have been amazing. I have enjoyed every minute I have spent with Bucky. He is sweet and kind, and I couldn’t ask for anyone better. He had my heart in his hands, and I didn’t want it back.

The only thing that was strange is he didn’t talk about his life at all. He wanted to hear all about my life, but he wouldn’t speak about his life prior to coming to Romania. I knew he originally came from America because we both switched from speaking Romanian to English when we are alone.

“Is everything okay, doll?” Bucky asked, tearing me from my thoughts.

“I was just thinking.”

“About what? You know you can tell me anything right?”

“Tell you, yes. Ask, no.” I kind of snapped as I stood up to put my plate in the sink.

“Is everything okay?” I could hear the panic in his voice, and I didn’t mean to hurt him, but I knew I had to say something, or it would eat me alive.

“I just don’t get why you want to hear all about me, but avoid questions about your life. I get it if you don’t want to talk about it now. I just don’t like it when you dodge it altogether.”

“Okay I understand that, and I’m sorry.”

Bucky really was sorry. He didn’t want to scare her away with the horrors of his past. He wanted her to know more about him. He wanted her to know that he is way older than what she may think he is. That he fought side by side with Captain America during WWII. 

He couldn’t get the words out though. He would lie awake at night trying to figure out how to tell her. Even on the nights when he found it hard to sleep, and he couldn’t lay there anymore, he wanted to wake her and just spill all the stories. 

He found warmth and comfort in her, but he didn’t want to haunt her with his past. He couldn’t taint such an angel like her, no matter how bad he wanted her to know. To hear her voice break just a little as she expressed how she felt broke him.

“You don’t have to be sorry. I just want you to know that it hurts me a little whenever you don’t give an explanation.”

“I want to tell you all about my life, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. I’m sorry.” His eyes went down, and my heart broke for him.

“James, look at me please?”

Bucky loved when she called him James. It was like she was trying to teach him to love his given name, and it was working. It rolled off her tongue so sweetly, and it came out so easily. He couldn’t help but obey when she asked him in that sweet tone of hers.

“The fact that you want to is enough for me right now. I’m not upset,” I smile sweetly at him, and walk over, placing my hand on his, “I don’t want to push. When you are ready, my love, I will be here waiting to listen contently.”

Bucky’s heart sighed in relief. He was worried that he had mucked everything up. He cared too much about her to let himself ruin things. If she wasn’t content with his response he would have told her everything. If it meant keeping her happy, he would give her the world. 

~*~

My conversation with Bucky seemed to have gone well. He slowly started to open up little by little. He was a bit vague, but at least he was trying. The first time he actually opened up a little was the first night I had noticed he was having a nightmare.

He was tossing and turning in his sleep, and I began to worry. I had heard never to wake someone up from a nightmare, so I sat there till he shot up. He was covered in sweat, and breathing heavily. He went to lay back down not realising I was already awake until I turned on the light. He looked over with sad, apologetic eyes. I just laid my hand on the small of his back letting him know everything was okay.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn't, I was already awake.”

I caressed his cheek, rubbing my thumb against his cheek. He slowly leaned in, and I followed until our lips came together. Sparks flew between us, and I felt butterflies. His lips were soft and gentle. The gentle kiss though soon turned into more. 

Bucky was gentle and slow. Making sure he wasn’t pushing my comfort level, and made sure he wasn’t hurting me. It felt amazing, and was the best night ever. I hoped that with Bucky and I becoming so intimate he would see that no matter what, I wasn’t going to go anywhere.

Bucky wasn’t sure how Y/n would feel if he initiated the kiss, but she put just as much passion into it as he did. He pushed into it more, and she returned it. Before he knew it he was on top of her naked body. He made sure he didn’t push her to do something she didn’t want to, but he could tell in her eyes she had been waiting a long time for this moment.

He made sure to be as gentle with her as he possibly could, but the urge to be inside her was too much for him to bear anymore. The room was filled with their moans as their bodies were connected so intimately.

Bucky felt that everything was going to be okay between them after that night. He held her as tight as possible after that, and was able to sleep through the rest of the night. Maybe he was worried about nothing. He felt like he could do anything now as long as he had her by her side.

~*~

“James, will you run out and get some fruit for me?” I hollered from the kitchen.

Bucky came into the room as he finished getting dressed, “anything specific you want?”

“No, just something I can turn into jam. The stand has been doing really well, and I’m running low on fruit.”

Bucky smiled as he walked over to me kissing my cheek, “anything for you, doll.”

Bucky left shortly after that, and I started to package the batch I had already made. Once I finished jarring what I had, I went to the walk-in pantry we had and started to shelve them. I thought I heard the door open so I called out to Bucky, but I got no answer.

“Everything alright out there my love?” I walked out of the pantry to be met by a man dressed in an all blue outfit. He was carrying a shield on his back that was red, white, and blue with a white star in the center.

He was looking through our kitchen, and I began to panic. I had no idea who this man was, or why he was in our apartment. I couldn’t find words to say when he noticed me.

“Where is Bucky?”

“Why do you want to know?” I asked, speaking in Romanian.

The man just turned around and looked at the top of the fridge. He pulled down a book, and that’s when I felt a hand on the small of my back. I jumped slightly at first then I realised it was Bucky behind me.

The stranger turned around, and saw Bucky. He started asking weird questions like if Bucky knew him, or why he pulled him from a river? All of it was so confusing and worrying to me. Before I knew it we were being attacked by the police. 

Bucky took off and I tried to follow him, but the stranger told me to stay put. Once the fight took the streets, I tried to follow on foot. By the time I got where I thought they would come out of, they were being surrounded. Bucky was being shoved to the ground and handcuffed. 

“James!” I yelled, rushing to him, and fighting the blockade of police.

They shoved me back, but I fought back harder. It was no use though as they loaded Bucky into a huge truck. I felt like my world had just come crashing down on me. Everything that happened this last year all came flooding back to me. I knew I had to get Bucky out of there. He was an innocent man, and I knew as long as we had each other, there would be nothing we couldn’t conquer.

~*~

Y/N tried to move on as best she could, but her heart felt empty. The day they took Bucky away in handcuffs was the day her heart left her. She closed her stand in the market, and went back to her dead end job. She moved out of their shared apartment because the thought, or even smell of him was too painful.

Y/n thought that the love of her life was gone forever. She even thought about moving away permanently, but loved the city too much to do that. The once bright and bubbly girl went back to her old reclusive self before she met him. No one had ever put the light back into her. Her smile was gone, and she hardly ever laughed anymore.

She was returning home from work one night, and decided to take the long way home. She wandered towards her old apartment complex as she often did. Ignoring the weird looks she got from the people she passed by, she kept her eyes to the ground. That was her mistake as she was lost in thought when she bumped into a muscular chest, almost falling to the ground. 

A firm gentle hand grabbed her arm kept her from falling, and she fought back tears as she remembered her very first full encounter with Bucky. “I’m sorry, I should have been paying attention.” Her voice broke as she fought back the pain, not wanting to look the stranger in the eyes.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I almost knocked you over.”

“Please don’t apologize. I was-”

“The one who bumped into me?” 

Y/n heard the man chuckle and almost felt like she could hear Bucky behind the chuckle. She gained enough courage to look up at the stranger who she bumped into, and the person she saw was not who she was expecting.

“You okay doll? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She didn’t even hesitate to jump into his arms. It was the reunion she waited almost two years for. He picked her up and held her tightly as if he let her go, she would disappear. Y/n nuzzled her face in the crook of his neck taking in his scent.

“I’m sorry I left you. I-”

“It’s not your fault James. You’re back, and that’s all that matters.”

Bucky pulled away slightly from the hug to look her in the eyes. He pulled her in for a soft, gentle kiss. For the first time since that terrible day, Y/n smiled into the kiss. Now that they were back in each other’s arms, she finally felt like her heart was put back together. 

She didn’t care what happened, she was just happy to have him back in her arms. She was happy he was safe and sound with her again. The light in her eyes had returned, and Bucky felt like he was falling in love with her all over again. The world could throw whatever it wanted at him now. He had his girl back, and he felt like he could overcome anything as long as he kept her by his side for the rest of his life.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I’m Always Curious Part Twenty Eight

Previous Part | Next Part |  Masterlist Notes: I hope everyone’s having a good week 💕

Sooo….. How are we doing…………….

Warnings: ....Less angst than last week? I think? I mean by my gauge anyway y’all might disagree

Also cursing and mentions of canon-typical violence Summary: “I don’t want to sound insensitive or glib, Kat, but this better be fucking good.” 

Can we talk? I had taken my time in answering Una’s message.

Maybe it was a little petty of me, but it was the first time she’d reached out to me in months, and I was tired. Despite the fact that the armistice between the Federation and the Klingons was in effect ahead of the Peace Accord in Paris, my work had yet to be completed. I’d been selected and summoned back to the Academy by Starfleet High Command to work closely with a number of other Comms specialists and the Klingons to draw up a treaty that would be beneficial to both sides, and would help to ensure that the armistice held. Are you going to hang up again? Was my answer, finally. Her response stunned me - but then, Una typically found a way to catch me off-guard. It would be difficult for me to hang up on you in person. 

-- I had this inexplicable urge to hug her, if only to ensure that we were both there, both real and solid, but I knew that Una was not a hugger. Instead I nodded to her as she slid into the booth seat across from mine. I’d taken up brief residence in one of the vacated mess hall spaces in the Academy while I’d waited for her. “How much time have you got?” She asked. “About an hour. It’s technically lunch break.” “We can get something to eat.” “I’m not hungry.” “...How are you?” She asked after a moment. “I’m not sure you deserve that answer.” I didn’t mean to snap, but— seeing Una in person, seemingly unchanged after what I had gone through - after Somonia, after the war, and after she had been so harsh to me, I was not in a mood to be warm and cuddly. Una nodded a little, unflinching. “I do deserve that,” She conceded, “I was...Processing. I should not have said that to you, it was a blatant disregard for your feelings. I’m sorry.” “...Well,” I bristled a little, “Thank you for that.” I glanced out of the window for a moment, gathering myself before asking, “So, why are you on Earth?” “There was a hitch in installing the new Holographic Communications System, it had to be brought in to space dock.” “Crew’s in one piece?” “Yes.” “Are you the only one down here?” “...Yes.” I lowered my gaze to my hands again. “Why did you want to meet with me?” I asked. Una stood and walked around to my side of the booth, sliding in to sit beside me. I didn’t turn to look at her, and she didn’t push for me to. “When...Spock told me that you were alive,” She said softly, “When he brought the timeline to me, the evidence… There was some little part of me that almost hoped he’d made it all up-- Not because I wanted you to be gone,” She hurried to explain, “But because I… Could not fathom the fact that we had left you behind. And seeing your medical file, reading the briefing that you gave Command-- the hell that you went through. If we’d turned back when Cornwell contacted us--” “You couldn’t have known--” “That shouldn’t have stopped us,” Una insisted, “We should’ve gone back, should’ve...Made sure.” I glanced over at Una to find her staring ahead of us, shoulders and jaw tight. “It was hard, watching the crew learn that you were gone. You were missed, you were needed, but seeing the news spread that you were alive, that you’d been drafted into service for the war so soon after you were found— And that we were constantly being told to stay out of the war on top of it … I was angry. I focused that anger in the wrong place when we spoke,” She admitted, turning to meet my eye, “I have regretted that every single day.” I felt tears prickling at my eyes and I lowered my eyes to the gold fabric of her uniform, clenching my jaw. “I’m not apologizing for not telling you,” I shook my head, "I’m sure Cornwell was monitoring my communications, and I don’t know what the repercussions would’ve been-- for either party.” “Considering the Admiral’s tendency to run a tight ship, as it were, I understand. I think you did the right thing...Commander,” Una tipped her head forward as she addressed me by my new rank. I rolled my eyes a little, a small smile creeping onto my face. It had been a battlefield promotion for the sake of my ability to command a small vessel during the Battle of Xisad, one of the last battles fought during the war. Cornwell had promoted me herself. “You know I had to take the Bridge Officer’s test when I got back?” I told Una, slouching down in my seat a little bit, “Just to make it official. They told me that if I didn’t, my rank would revert. I almost let it go.” “Why didn’t you?” “Durling.” “Eli Durling?” I nodded, humming, “Bastard goaded me, said I wouldn’t pass first try, so it wasn’t worth bothering.”

Una smiled. “Stubborn as stone,” She shook her head. “Don’t start,” I began to laugh, and it soon overtook the two of us. As it settled, I gathered my courage to ask the question that had been sitting on the tip of my tongue since Una had told me she was the only one on Earth. “Where is he?” “He’s on Starbase five at the moment. Visiting someone.” “Is he alright?” “Yes.” “And he...He knows?” Una frowned, nodding a little. “Of course he knows,” She confirmed, “You haven’t spoken to him?” “No. He hasn’t reached out and I...I didn’t, I wasn’t sure,” I admitted. I suddenly felt jittery-- sharp, and sensitive. It was like I’d taken a gulp of the worst kind of Koutovian tea. “So--” I cleared my throat, “When do you leave?” “In a few hours, most likely. Starfleet’s set us another mission. Do you know where you’ll be stationed next?” “No. I don’t know how long we’ll be working on the treaty and Command doesn’t want to set me to another post prematurely.” “I understand.” I could see the disappointment in Una’s eyes, but rather than say anything, she just tipped her chin up a little bit. “Do you think you’ll leave Communications for Helm now?” She prodded, and I snorted. We both knew the answer to that. 

-- Tilly and I nearly knocked one another over with the force of our embrace. I squeezed her as tight as I could, grinning from ear to ear, wholly uncaring that the transporter room crew and the Cornwell were nearby. “I have to check on where you’re staying, but um-- I’ll come and find you and show you and-- excuse me, Admiral,” Tilly ducked around Cornwell before hurting out of the transporter bay.

The Admiral arched a brow at the sight of me before gesturing for me to follow her. I fell into step beside her, glancing around. The Discovery hadn’t changed since my last stint on it, of course, but it was surreal to be back on the ship that I thought had been destroyed. But as nice as it was to be on a starship with no threat of war, I was not in the best mood. Treaty completed, peace talks aside, Peace Accord signed, I had been afforded leave. Shortly after that leave had been granted, I'd received a message from Admiral Cornwell. 

“I don’t want to sound insensitive or glib, Kat, but this better be fucking good.” “You’re not in uniform.” “No. I’m not, because technically, officially, I am not here,” I reminded Cornwell as I cast her a sidelong glance, “Were those not your exact words?” “They were.” “Well, then if I am still technically, officially on leave,” I gestured to my civvies, “Then why would I be in uniform?” “You’re in a fine mood.” “Do I need to remind you what happened the last time you pulled me off of leave for an assignment?” I retorted. “The Discovery has been tasked with chasing down signals that have appeared in varying points throughout the galaxy.” I frowned. “I thought that the Enterprise had been tasked with that directive.” “It had, but it experienced catastrophic system-wide failures. The Discovery took over the mission.” “And I’m here because…?” “There is a colony on the way to the next point that’s in need of monitoring. Starfleet is not interfering, but we’re keeping an eye on them. We need you--” “A Tag and Run?” I asked, stunned, “You’ve really pulled me off of leave for a Tag and Run? Why not pull Durling?” “I have. He’ll be here in a few hours to oversee the op. I’ve business to attend to elsewhere.” “Of course you do.” “Commander, I may’ve tolerated a certain amount of this disposition in the midst of the war, but please trust that I have no such patience for it right now.” I fought the urge to snap back and roll my eyes. “I thought that Tag and Runs were only sanctioned outside of the war in the most extreme cases.” “Trust when I tell you that this is extreme, and sanctioned by Starfleet.” Cornwell stopped at the turbolift, turning to face me. “There’s something else that I ought to make you aware of.” “Oh, there’s more?” “I need you to keep your head.” I looked over her face, at the slight grimace on her lips, and that sharp, jittery feeling bubbled back up in my stomach. “...Kat, what--” “Admiral, a question.” I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help but turn at the sound of his voice-- my body was moving before I even fully registered it, half turned from Cornwell, half turned toward Pike. It almost didn’t register, at first, that it really was him. I hadn’t seen him anywhere but my mind’s eye, my dreams, for the longest time. He looked… Well. Almost just as I remembered. There were maybe a few more streaks of grey around his temples, but I didn’t get a good enough look. My brain finally caught up with my body, took in his bewildered expression - the narrowed eyes, his parted lips, the scrunch of his brow - and I turned my head away, eyes set on the turbolift panel. “...You couldn’t have mentioned this before I beamed aboard?” I asked Cornwell quietly. “I wasn’t sure if another ship would be in range. False hope would’ve been cruel,” Cornwell's voice was no louder than mine, her eyes set on the Captain.  I turned my head a little as the turbolift doors opened and Tilly stepped out. “Oh! Wow, just who I was looking for--” She glanced between the three of us, taking in the tense silence, “I...Am sorry to interrupt, but, um, your lodgings are ready, Commander.” “Thank you,” I mumbled. “Commander?” Pike’s repetition was hushed, almost awed. I turned my head toward him a little, unable to meet his eye. He’d missed so much-- and what the hell had I missed? “If you’ll excuse me,” I answered tightly, stepping onto the turbolift with Tilly. “See if you can find a uniform,” Cornwell watched me, “And try to give Durling less lip.” “No guarantees,” I retorted before the doors slid shut. -- 

“That seemed… Tense. Like cage-fight-with-a-Mugato-tense,” Tilly commented over the hum of the turbolift. She was right - it felt it, too. I couldn’t get that look Pike had given me out of my mind. It was buzzing through me; it was a stone in my stomach; it was behind my eyelids when I blinked. “Speaking from experience?” I tried to tease as we stepped off. “Ah-ha,” Tilly shook her head, “No.” I gave her a small shrug, following her down the hall, “Pike used to be Captain of the Enterprise.” “Right.” “And I haven’t seen him since…” “Since he thought you were dead,” It dawned on Tilly, “Oh… Oh that’s worse than a Mugato.” “It’s like two Mugatos.” “Well, here we go,” She stepped aside to let me in, “You’re gonna have a roomie, but it won’t be me.” “Who’s it going to be?” I asked as I stepped inside. “Well, it’ll be me, and if you don’t like that, you can sleep in the frickin’ cargo hold.” I froze again at the sound of that dry, almost raspy voice. “Jett?” I asked, stunned. “Is that a yes or a no to the cargo hold?” She added, standing from her bed, “I mean you don’t actually have a choice, but it only seems polite to ask.” I flexed my hands before I asked, “Can I-- Are you-- Can I hug you?” “Once,” Jett conceded, “But make it a quick one.” I didn’t approach her too fast, didn’t hug her too tightly, just patted her shoulder twice and took a step back. “What, um…” I asked lightly, throat growing tight, “What happened?” “It’s a long story-- And you haven’t even heard it yet,” Jett frowned, watching me step back to what would be my temporary bed and lower myself down onto it, putting my head in my hands. “Hey,” Tilly sat down beside me, resting a hand on my shoulder and rubbing it, “What is it?” I couldn’t answer. I just shook my head a little as I took deep breaths, trying to slow my pounding heart, trying to steady my breathing. “Are you mouthing ‘pie’? I should get her a snack?” I heard Jett ask Tilly-- which made me laugh through the few tears that were leaking from my eyes. “Pike,” I mumbled, “She’s mouthing Pike.” I could understand why the two were trying to be careful with me. I surely seemed panicked by what should’ve been amazing news. And it was amazing. I was overjoyed, relieved that Jett was alright, but-- between the mission, Tilly, Pike, and Jett, I was overwhelmed. And Pike had looked right at me -- Right at me. He’d seemed so startled, like I was a figure that had stepped out of a dream-- or a nightmare: unknowable, unplaceable, but strangely familiar and to be dissected. Maybe that was one small consolation. While Cornwell hadn’t warned me, she'd been remiss in warning him, too.

I tipped my chin up from my hands, looking between Jett and Tilly and giving them a weak, watery smile. “I won’t lie, though, pie sounds amazing right now.” "Sure! We can do that,” Tilly said quickly, more than happy to put a baked band-aid over this hurt, “Jett, you coming?” Reno shrugged, “I could eat.”

Tag list: @angels-pie​ ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta​  ; @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ ; @how-am-i-serpose-to-know​ ; @onlyhereforthefandomandgiggles​ ; @inmyowncorner​  ; @tardis-23​ ; @2manyfandoms-solittletime​ ; @paintballkid711​ ; @katrynec​​ ; @hypnobananaangelfish​​ ; @elen-aranel​ ; @blueeyesatnight​

[trillian-anders]

the assistant

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

warnings: violence, angst, fluff, smut && SPOILERS

word count: 6.8k

description: part 1 of 5. CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS, PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED THE FILM. you’ve been working for the thrombeys for four years now, the last three years of your service being a glorified babysitter to the most annoying, self-absorbed, dickhead hugh ransom drysdale.

You wanted to smack that dumb smirk off his stupid dumb face. 

Hugh Ransom Drysdale. The bane of your fucking existence. Standing there with that stupid fucking smirk on his face, he fucking loved this. Watching as you cleaned up his mess. A crying girl on his doorstep and you, his assistant (aka babysitter), trying to calm her down enough to get her to leave his house. This dumb contemporary floor to ceiling windowed, minimalist, empty souled house. The girl had been picked up at a bar last night. Charmed by his handsome face, the money he was careless to spend, the way he spoke to you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world. 

It was a fucking joke. A trick. You’ve seen it a million times and you’d be willing you bet that you’d see it a million more. 

The door blocked her view of him, your clear view of him from the side, sipping on a mug of coffee in his hands and fucking smirking. 

“He won't even see me?” You hated when they cried. Like each of them had this idea that they’d go home with Ransom Drysdale and fuck him so good that he’d tie them to his bed and never let them leave or something. 

You sighed heavily before replying, “Mr. Drysdale has business to attend to, he’s unavailable at the moment, but I can leave him a message if you’d like?” You did this maybe five or six times a week. In the early morning hours, after his sexual escapade and some rest, Ransom would wake early and leave for the gym. In that time you were supposed to ‘take out the trash’ as he described it. This morning, the girl left dazed and confused in the fog taking an uber back to her home, but returning an hour later trying to plead her case. It was giving you a migraine. 

The girl stepped back from the porch, shoes crunching against the gravel as she searched the windows for his face. “FUCK YOU RANSOM.” She shouted, flipping the bird into the air. The man hiding to your right, choked on his coffee in laughter as you watched the girl get back into her car and disappear from sight. 

“What's on the agenda today Ransom,” You shut the door quietly, turning to face him, “Because if I have to do that again tomorrow I’ll quit.” He scoffed in indignation. 

“You’re not gonna quit,” He drained the rest of his mug, “You can’t even leave the house long as you got that.” He gestured towards your leg. Sitting firmly on your right ankle was a house arrest bracelet. One meant for him, but carefully bribed into being put on your own leg. The stupid son of a bitch got away with murder, after the death of his late Grandfather’s housekeeper by his own hand and the attempted murder of the girl that got the entire Thrombey fortune, he stayed the lucky son of a bitch he had been his entire life. 

Evidence was mishandled, not enough proof. That whole, ‘beyond reasonable doubt’ thing. The rich asshole got fucking house arrest and court mandated therapy. Even after there were three fucking witnesses to him attempting to murder Marta Cabrera. 

Money oiled the gears of the justice system, letting the trust fund baby slip through without consequence. That’s where you come in. 

You worked for the Thrombey’s before. As a tutor to Meg when she began to fail her english class. For whatever reason, Lynda and Richard Drysdale liked you, assigned you a new task. Their sweet baby boy Hugh, called Ransom by everyone but the Help. You’ve worked for Ransom for three years now. The first year before the death of his Grandfather and Thrombey patriarch, and now two years after his death and wouldn’t you know it. Hugh Ransom Drysdale wrote a fucking bestseller. 

Everyone wanted an insight into this family. Harlan Thrombey always said there was so much of him in Ransom. He wasn’t lying. 

Ransom wrote the first of what you knew would be many new Thrombey family murder mystery novels. And he was reaping in the cash. He was two months away from his next big release. Something you’re sure would fly off the shelves just as quickly as the first. 

“Don’t worry,” He said, “I’ve got a deadline to meet.” His coffee mug abandoned by the front door for you to clean up, he left you to officially start your day. He retreated into the study he created for himself to crank out the last four chapters he needed for his book, maybe. 

Due to circumstances beyond your control, you were the one placed on house arrest. As long as no one was notified that Ransom left the perimeter of the house you were being paid well, and you being paid well meant your younger sister gets taken care of. You were able to send her money every month to help with the fact that she was staying with an estranged aunt. It hadn’t been easy once your mother died, but the Thrombey’s lighten the load so to say. 

That’s why you were washing Ransom’s sheets that reeked of sex, picking up and disposing of torn panties and tossing used condoms the fucking dick couldn’t be bothered enough to toss two more feet into the trash can in his on-suite. You’d invested in rubber gloves. 

On days that Ransom had to meet with his probation officer he would wear a dummy bracelet. It got him by and soon the fucker would be over and done with house arrest all together. You’d be able to move back home then. Hopefully. 

“Ransom, you ever gonna eat today?” You knocked on the open door of his study, bringing his attention from his computer to you, who held a bowl of pasta in your one hand. He sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. There were multicolored post-its surrounding his computer. Your mind made the connection with how similar it was to his Grandfather’s own workspace. You gently placed the bowl on his desk, turning to pour him a tumbler of whiskey from the small bar in the corner of the room. 

“I don’t know how the old bastard ever cranked out two books a year,” His neck cracked. “How is that even possible?” He took a large bite of the pasta, squinting at the screen. His eyes quickly shifted to yours, watching you set down the glass of whiskey in front of him. He grabbed your wrist. “Stay.” It was an order. “Sit.” You took your place in a chair across from him. 

“Harlan wrote every day,” You told him, “You write whenever you’re not off sticking your dick into anything that breathes.” He laughed at that. 

“Not everything that breathes,” He typed a few more words into the word document, “I haven’t fucked you yet.” Your core pulsed, he said yet. 

Audibly you scoffed, “I would never willingly fuck you Ransom.” You pulled your legs up onto the chair to make yourself comfortable. He smirked at that, eyes not leaving the computer screen. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” That stupid smirk. You hated that fucking smirk. So condescending. 

When you first met Ransom you were probably very much like the girls that you now pry out of his bed at 8 am. You had been tutoring Meg at the family home, sitting at the kitchen table going over Othello when he sauntered in, digging through the cabinets for snacks. You could feel Meg tense up next to you and that’s when he turned. He was so fucking pretty. Blue eyes, well kept hair, cashmere sweater, those broad fucking shoulders, and on his face, stretching that full bottom lip you wanted to tug between your teeth, was a smirk. 

That pulsing throb between your thighs soon was quickly forgotten as he opened his mouth and began to speak, “How’s it going Meg, trouble reading? Or do they not teach you how to read when you’re a liberal? Lord knows you guys never fucking understand anything anyway.” Meg snapped back at him, but you were stunned. You could tell he said that on purpose, knowing it would make her go off on the tangent he was now, finding a sick pleasure in it. That was the first time you’d seen the smirk. You’d lost count of how many times you’ve seen it since then. 

“I really hate you Ransom.” You sighed, sinking further into your chair. He had almost finished off the bowl of pasta by now, whiskey long since emptied. He thinks it’s funny, you hating him because he responds looking you in your eyes, maintaining his smirk, 

“I know you do baby.” He liked to do that. Call you pet names. Once he had even pretended you were his wife when you accidentally walked in on him and a girl he had been balls deep in, bent over the back of the couch. He fucking LOVED that one. The girl had cried, embarrassed, apologizing as she picked her bra up from the floor and slunk out the front door behind you. That was a while ago. Pre-Murder. You should have seen it then. How insane he actually was. 

Ransom was incredibly smart and was a quick thinker. It was part of the reason that he had gotten away with murder in the first place. You knew that. It showed in his novel. He would have you read chapters, give him your opinion, before writing and rewriting. Showing you again. He’d ask you if you could figure out who was the murderer, a sinister glint in his eyes, arms crossed, standing above you waiting. He could only be satisfied if you didn’t have a clue. 

It was a gift, you supposed, the ease in which he wrote to make every character a possible suspect in completely new and incredible scenarios. He had three books in various states of completion that he was chipping away at, the one he was currently working on seemingly better than the previous published. 

His Mother, the one who gave him the silver spoon and cursed him for having it his whole life, was suddenly proud of him. His Father, now divorced from his Mother, would come by weekly asking for money. Ransom loved that too. His Dad got nothing due to the prenup, leaving him penniless. The cushy job he had at Lynda’s real estate empire was gone, and now Dad was working at local agency scraping by on low commission. Last week his Father came to the door while Ransom was writing and muscled his way not too kindly past you into the house. 

“Ransom!” He called, finding his way into his son’s study. You quietly shut the door, returning to folding laundry. The door shut tightly behind him and sounds had been muffled. It’s only when their voices went from calm to a screaming match did the door wretch open and Ransom followed his Dad out, both red faced. 

“We’ve given you everything in your fucking life and you can’t even give one iota back.” Ransom opened the front door, gesturing to the porch. 

“Get the fuck out, and don’t come back.” His voice stern and commanding.

“Fuck you Ransom.” With that he was gone. The silence that had settled over the house was thick, Ransom’s hand still resting against the closed door before he took a breath and, without taking a glance in your direction, returned to his study. Closing the door. 

The echo of that argument sat in the house for the rest of the day, Ransom leaving soon after to find a body to lose himself in. If the murder trial did anything, it made Ransom into a bad boy and girls fucking loved it. He wasn’t, technically, guilty after all. 

You attempted to clear the bowl in front of him, but was stopped by his hand. His eyes never left the screen as he brought your hand to his lips, placing a kiss in your palm, before dragging your arm to his other shoulder, hugging himself with it awkwardly until you gave in and wrapped your other arm around him, holding him tightly for a moment. 

He was soft sometimes. His Mom never held him when he was a kid. He was left alone a lot while she was building her empire. Babysitters never stayed long, nannies came and went. Sometimes you truly felt bad for him, other times you remember that he was a dick and that he loved to play tricks and torment anyone and everyone that was supposed to take care of him, including you. The only difference was you weren’t able to leave. 

He let you go soon after that, letting you clean up the mess from dinner and stoke the fire place warming the house that always seemed too cold. As you stood by the fire, arms wrapped around yourself you could feel him behind you, coming to wrap his arms around your waist, leaning his head on your shoulder as you stared into the flames. There was a moment or two of silence as you both stood there. 

If this were any other situation, if Ransom loved you, if this was someone who loved you, if this someone cared enough to care about the things you care about, this would be kind of romantic. But it’s Ransom, and he didn’t care about anyone but himself, he definitely didn’t care about you, and he one hundred percent didn’t care about anything you care about. “I’m going out.” 

His arms left your waist and his chest left your back leaving you cold. “For fucks sake Ransom, I don’t feel like throwing out a girl tomorrow morning.” You turned to watch him throwing his coat on. He smirked. He fucking smirked. 

“I’ll give you a break and throw her out myself then.” And he was gone. 

Hours later you’re woken by the sound of Ransom coming home, sure enough he wasn’t alone. Soft giggles and a bang, he’s shoved her against the wall beside your room. There were muffled groans as you assumed she found her knees right there in the hallway. He got off on this shit, you knew. Often stopping somewhere outside your door to start his sexual escapades. Knowing you were mere feet away, like some half-assed exhibitionism. It wasn’t long after that the girl squealed and there was more muffled talking before they moved to his bedroom. To which you shared a wall. 

Your bedroom, before you were a live-in, housed a bunch of items you believed graced a teen boy’s bedroom walls at one point. And still, shoved in the corner, were playboy model cardboard cutouts, “They’re vintage, mint condition, and worth a lot.” Sure, Ransom, sure they are. Arcade games, framed patriots jerseys, a lacrosse set from his high school days. You were shoved in the middle of it all, a single bed shoved against the wall surrounded by what once was a room full of teenage boy memorabilia. A shrine to his youth. 

The headboard soon came knocking and hope for sleep was lost. The girl’s moans escalating to shrieks. Either he was as good as he says, or these girls really care about his ego. Either could be true when there’s more than one comma in your bank account. 

The kitchen was much quieter. A steady rocking still came from upstairs, but thankfully it was muffled by the floor. As you made a cup of tea you figured you would see if he had printed off a new chapter ready for you to read. You hope he wouldn’t have gone out without finishing it anyway. 

You were not sure why you cared to be honest. You had this love/hate for Ransom. He was an annoying prick who did something really fucking horrible, but he also made it very clear to everyone involved that you had nothing to do with it. There was a scary moment there, after his arrest, when you were brought to the station for interrogation. You hadn’t known he had even gotten up to any of these crimes. He kept you completely in the dark and he was sure to let his arresting officers know that. You hadn’t even seen him since the night Harlan died when he left the party stranding you at the estate. 

Money does crazy things to people. The threat of his steady income leaving was enough to push him to do something crazy. He was lucky enough that the recorded confession magically was erased. He was lucky for dirty cops. He was lucky that even though his mother despised his lifestyle she didn’t want him to go to prison. He was so lucky. Now with his first novel sitting highly on the bestseller list, he seemed even more lucky than he did before. 

His study was on the opposite side of the house from his bedroom, muffling the sounds enough for you to flip through the packet left on top of his keyboard. Three chapters away from completion you were following the detective through paces where things felt more confusing than ever, the clues were unclear and there was not much to go on, but the tension between the eldest son of the victim and his ex-wife were mounting and it was hard to believe that maybe this guy had nothing to do with it despite what was described as an ‘air-tight’ alibi. You read through the chapter twice, scribbling your thoughts in red pen along the margins. 

“What do you think?” You jumped in your chair, looking up to see Ransom in the doorway. 

“You scared the shit out of me,” Your hand still clutching your chest. He had a glass of water in his hand, chest bare, solid navy pajama pants slung low on his hips. His chest hair always got you, just a little bit. He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and pushed off the door jam to walk into the room, taking a seat in the chair you occupied hours ago. “It’s good,” you cleared your throat, “I’m not sure how much longer I can wait for you to finish to be honest.” He chuckled softly. 

“Let me see.” You handed him the packet and his eyes scanned the margins, reading your comments. They were mostly reactions, that’s what he liked. He wanted to know how you reacted to everything he put in front of you, did you like the romance, the tension, the lust he was trying to write between the ex-husband and wife? Or was it too distracting from the plot? Is the detective too unbelievable? He’s a character for sure. Can you figure out whodunnit yet?

“What are you doing out of bed?” You asked, spinning the chair side to side, waiting for him to put the packet down. 

“I told you I was going to kick her out.” He took another sip from his water. You scoffed, 

“And you couldn’t start doing this sooner?” A smile stretched his lips,

“I like how much it bothers you.” 

“It’s annoying,” you said, “Worst way to start my day.” He laughed. 

“That’s the only reason?” He asked, throwing the packet back on the desk, leaning back in his chair. Smirking. 

“You’re such an asshole, you know that?” You pushed back from the desk, moving to exit the room. He quickly grabbed your wrist, tugging you over to his side where he looked up at you, 

“If you wanna take their place, just let me know.” Your other hand came up to smack him on his shoulder, causing him to laugh as he released you, letting you take your exit. 

“Dick.” 

You found him the next morning at his desk, looking as though he had very little sleep. “Babe could you get me some coffee?” You yawned in the doorway, 

“Sure.” It didn’t take long before you were setting the cup in front of him. “Your therapist is coming by at one.” He nodded, not looking up from his computer. “I���ll come get you when it’s time for you to get ready.” 

He was focused. You weren’t sure where this focus came from. It was every once in a while that he would find this stroke of inspiration and write for a whole day straight. Hopefully he will be finished his book before schedule and be able to get ahead for the next one. 

Soon he was washed, dressed, and ready for the one person he dreads the most. He hated therapy sessions. There were only ten more he needed to do before the court mandate was over. Ten more weeks until you were able to get this lovely ankle bracelet off when you would hopefully be able to go back to the routine you had with him before. Where you’d sleep in your own shitty apartment and show up to work a 9 to 9 five days a week. 

After sessions he was always moody, quiet, and tended to need his favorite single malt restocked the next day. Not exactly in line with how he should be tending to whatever revelation the therapist has been streamlining him to, but that wasn’t any of your business. You could say though that during the last 42 weeks of sessions this refractory period was shortening to less and less time, maybe tonight you won't be peeling him off the floor of the study and dragging him up to his room drunk off his ass. 

While in the session you were trying not to listen in on, you were sunk heavily on the living room couch, drinking coffee and reading the latest chapter he had slapped into your hands before entering back into his study. The book was so close to being finished, the last two chapters leading you to the big reveal and aftermath. The climax was steady taking hold and you were more sure than ever that the eldest son had something to do with it. You didn’t know what he did, but it was something. 

He looked mad enough to kill as the Doctor left. Slamming the door, barely missing the Doctor’s jacket sleeve as he made his hasty retreat. Ransom stood seething for a moment by the front door, a chill running down your spine. He had murdered someone before, something you try to forget seeing as you are forced to spend so much time with him. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. It felt like an hour before he moved. 

“I’m going out.” The words spoken sternly as he stomped his way up the stairs like a petulant child, returning moments later, cleaned up, eyes blank, before grabbing his coat and slamming the door loud enough to make you jump. 

Aside from Ransom’s Mother never being around and aside from his Father’s string of extramarital affairs and aside from his Grandfather’s need to push him in every direction but close, you wish you could say that Ransom had a good childhood. But he didn’t. When he was little the kids picked on him for being rich, and when he was bigger they only became friends with him because he was rich. He was such a bully. At least, that’s what his Mother told you once drunk off chardonnay at his birthday dinner last year. 

Disappointment. 

That was a clear sentiment for the small family get together, and by small family get together you meant the dinner you cooked and Ransom looking like he’d rather be in prison than listen to his parents bicker over his Father’s new (Not so new seeing as he’d been caught kissing her by a PI before Harlan’s death) girlfriend. She was smart enough not to come. 

This night was looking a lot like that one. Ransom, after his parents left and you began to tidy up, began to scream at you. 

“What gave you the fucking right you dumb bitch?” He was spitting, face red as you cleared the dishes. “You’re only here for the money. The fucking money. How much is she paying you huh?” The bottle of expensive whiskey he had been drinking throughout the night was in his hand, swinging it around and taking pulls straight from the bottle. “Not enough obviously because you would have let me fuck you a long time ago.” 

Your face flushed red as your own anger began to rise. He continued, “Never, ever, fucking again will you allow my parents in this house, do you understand me?” His unoccupied hand grabbed your arm tight enough to bruise, turning you to face him. His eyes wild and unfocused. “I said do you understand me?” You not so gently wretched your arm from his. 

“Don’t touch me.” He always fucking did this. Blamed you for things you had no control over. Lynda approached you about a dinner for Ransom’s birthday. It was her name in your paystubs. You can’t say no. 

“How dare you-” He began, but was cut short.

“No Ransom. No.” Like scolding a fucking dog who put his paws on the table. You threw the bowl you currently had in your hands into the sink, turning to fully face him. “I am only here for the money and I am only here because your Mother pays me a lot to be here.” His jaw clenched. “But I’m also here because I’m the only fucking person who even remotely cares about your ungrateful prissy spoiled ass and if it wasn’t for me you’d be sitting in this fucking glass house, alone, with only your own self-righteous attitude to keep you company. So don’t you ever touch me like that again. Do you understand?” 

He loudly clunked the bottle onto the kitchen island, stumbling in your direction as you backed yourself into the sink. His trial had just concluded two weeks ago, Fran’s murder fresh on your mind and you wondered if you just made a terrible mistake. Over the course of this rant, the alcohol was sinking into his bloodstream, it turned his anger into a crippling depression. One that resulted in his hands softly grasping your shoulders, and tugging you into his body. His face found your neck and slowly started to grow damp with what you realized were his tears. 

Your heart broke a bit, too much empathy, even for this asshole. Your arms came to wrap around his shoulders, letting him cry it out. 

That was the first and only time you saw Ransom cry over anything. If he hadn’t been as drunk as he was you knew that moment would never have happened. The sweet little moment that made your heart ache was quickly gone the next morning when Ransom made you coffee and thought it would be hilarious that after you thanked him for being so sweet he joked that he poisoned it. You could still recall the cackles of laughter as you spit your coffee into the sink. 

That was the day he began writing his first novel. 

He came home alone tonight which was strange. And far earlier than normal. You usually were in bed, or holed up in his study by the time he arrived him after a night out. Staying out of his way as he drug a bubbly hopeful girl up to his bed to satisfy his own needs for the night. He found you tonight, sitting outside, watching Netflix on your tablet by the firepit you had decided to light, a hot cup of tea sitting on the end table next to you. Cozy and wrapped in a blanket. 

You could feel his eyes on you from the doorway. You tapped the screen, pausing your show and turned to look at him. His hair was slightly mussed, face flushed, and socked toes curling from the chill. He was looking at you strangely. 

“You’re home early.” You placed the tablet down on the end table, turning to face him. He nodded, crossing his arms and leaning against the door jam. 

“I just needed a drive.” There was a soft smile on his face, well that’s new. 

“Is everything okay?” He never tells you anything, but the sentiment matters. He looked to his feet, nodding. 

“I’m probably going to try to stay up and finish the book tonight.” He shifted himself back into the house, your voice calling out to him, 

“Come sit out here for a bit. It’s calming, just take a break from thinking for a minute.” He sighed and looked at you again, debating something in his head. 

“I need to be alone.” You tried anyway. He disappeared from sight. And that was that. 

The next day Ransom began acting even more strangely. The book was finished, the last two chapters handed wordlessly to you as he left for the gym on what you’re assuming was no sleep. That wasn’t the strange part. The strange part was when he returned three hours later bearing a box of donuts from your favorite bakery and two lattes, on his face was a smile. 

“What did you do?” You accused, “Did you poison this?” You gestured towards the latte he placed in your hand. 

“No.” He laughed, sliding the box of donuts to you. You stared at him skeptically before taking a sip. Tastes normal. 

“Are you sick?” Your wrist coming to lay across his forehead, temperature feels fine. 

“No.” He laughed again, pulling your wrist from his forehead and kissing your palm before opening the box of donuts, pulling a cinnamon sugar donut to his lips. “You just told me the other day how you missed these and I figured since I passed the shop on the way back it wouldn’t hurt to go pick some up.” It was suspicious. You continued to look at him skeptically. He sighed, placing the donut on the counter, grabbing the latte from your hand he took a large sip of it. “I didn’t fucking poison you Y/N.” 

Okay.

Okay. You examined the box of donuts, pulling out the bear claw that was begging to be eaten. Still warm. You moaned in delight as soon as the warm pastry hit your taste buds. You really had missed these. Opening your eyes, you saw Ransom staring blankly at you before his eyes shifted to the packet by your side. 

“All finished?” You swallowed and nodded, sliding the packet marked with red over to him and as he began to study your notes you tried to think about what could have possibly gotten him in such a good mood. The Doctor’s visit was odd enough. Yes he was angry when the Doctor left, but then just a drive? Not a blackout drunk, bringing two girls home to pleasure himself with and accidentally falling into a line or two of coke night, but a drive? 

Maybe therapy had been working? Maybe he had a breakthrough? He finished the novel. The eldest son had something to do with it, his airtight alibi just that, a cover for the crime having been committed at a different time than the coroner’s estimated time frame due to him freezing the body and allowing it to thaw in the house. 

You had asked Harlan how he came up with such incredible stories once. He said they just popped into his head fully formed, his brain moving faster than his fingers. He kept a little notebook with good ideas and would simmer in them as long as it took for a stroke of inspiration. The rest was just typing. 

He smirked at some of your comments, ‘what a fucking joke’ you wrote next to the eldest son’s monologue about being passed over, his whining, annoying, self centered crying about how life wasn’t fair. 

“What’s the smirk for?” You asked, removing the lid of your latte and dipping part of the bear claw in it. 

“The lack of sympathy for Greg.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. 

“He’s a fucking loser.” Ransom’s eyes met yours, “I bet you see a lot of yourself in him.” That made him laugh. 

“What? You don’t like spoiled rich men?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. You rolled your eyes, taking another sip from the milky sweet latte you didn’t know would feel like your life’s blood right now. 

“I think you know the answer to that.” 

“I think you find me endearing.” Ransom smirked. Your neck flushed. 

“I find you annoying,” You admitted. “I only put up with you because of my paycheck.” He licked his lips.

“Sure,” He closed the packet, pushing it aside to take another bite of the donut, cinnamon sugar dusting his lips. “You put up with me because you’re secretly in love with me, but you know that I would never get with The Help.” This made you laugh. 

“If you want me to be the Help I’ll gladly call you Hugh if it means you leave me alone.” He placed his paper cup on the counter, circling around to you. 

“I like when you call me Hugh.” His hands came to rest on your upper arms, grinning. 

“You’re disgusting.” He laughed at the clear displeasure on your face, spinning your stool around to him, and you leaned back, creating some distance as he came to stand between your legs. 

“You don’t mean that do you baby?” His fingers toying with the ends of your hair. You could feel your nipples harden in excitement, body betraying you. A wet growing between your legs. 

“Ransom what are you doing?” You said in exasperation. You weren’t blind. Ransom was gorgeous. You’d maybe, possibly, gotten off to the thought of him once or twice or maybe more than that in the four years you’ve known him. But he was also a scumbag who fucks and then throws girls out hours later. His moods were hot and cold. He had major Mommy issues and he’s not technically guilty of murder, but he’s a fucking murderer. But also… he’s been going to therapy and after that fight on his birthday last year he’s never laid a hand on you in anger again, there’s been some arguments sure, but he’s mostly nice to you. Caring even. 

“Why don’t you love me Y/N?” His voice almost came out as a whine. He was playing with you. 

“Ransom stop.” You pushed him away gently. He was fucking smirking. 

“Usually there’s a ‘don’t’ in front of that.” Cocky bastard. 

“You’re the worst person I know. And I hate that fucking smirk.” You picked at your now cold bear claw, trying to turn from him. 

“Why don’t you wipe it off my face then?” Your eyes met his and you glared. 

“What’s gotten into you today? Maybe you should go out early. Find some girl to satisfy whatever you’re going through right now.” His hands met your hips, spinning your stool back around to face him. 

“What if I want you to satisfy whatever I’m going through right now.” His groin fit right up against your core and you could feel his throbbing heat between your legs. Fuck. 

“Don’t make this mistake Ransom.” You placed one hand gently on his chest, attempting (but not really) to push him back. His forehead coming to rest against yours. “You don’t want this.”

“This is the only thing I’ve ever really wanted.” His breath mingled with yours, sweet, cinnamon and coffee. 

“You’re not thinking straight.” His lips brushed against yours, tongue coming out to wet his lips, his eyes locked with yours. Why weren’t you pushing him away? Your breath hitched as his tongue accidentally grazed your bottom lip. 

“The only clarity I’ve ever had in my life has been when I’m with you.”

His lips pressed heavily against yours, pushing you back against your bedroom door as his hand came to tangle in your hair. He was all consuming, body hot and heavy against yours. Your core was thrumming with want, moisture pooling in the crotch of your yoga pants. His hips were rolling into yours and you could feel the hard length of him against your belly. His lips quickly moved across your jaw to your neck and you could hear yourself moaning softly as he licked, sucked, and nibbled on the sensitive skin below your ear. Your hands clenching the soft material of the t-shirt by his hips, dipping your fingers slowly into the waistband of his shorts. 

His lips parted from your neck, hand tilting your head back so he could look into your eyes before taking your mouth once more. His mouth moved down this time to the tops of your breasts, hands leaving to shift the thick wool cardigan off your shoulders and onto the floor before dropping the straps of your camisole and exposing them to the air, nipples already pebbled in excitement. 

You hadn’t dated in a while, unable to because of your paid house arrest and before that the way Ransom had worked you to the bone picking up after him. And the touch from someone else always felt better than your own. His hands felt huge on you, protecting. 

Your head met the door as he enveloped your right nipple in his mouth, rolling the sensitive bud on his tongue until he felt the left neglected, and switched, beginning to toy with your right nipple between his finger tips. Moans and heavy breaths were the only sounds in the hallway as Ransom made his way down your body, slipping your yoga pants and panties off your hips as he found his knees before you. 

“Ransom-” 

“Shhhhh,” He pressed his lips against your naval, working his way to your trembling core. His hand lifted your right thigh, draping it over his shoulder as his eyes focused in on your, what you knew must be soaking, wet pussy. His eyes met yours from his knees, your legs trembling with anticipation, eyes locked as his pink tongue came to meet your pussy for the first time, a shuddering breath being released from you urged him on further. 

His thick fingers spread your lips open, exposing your clit to his gentle assault. A building pleasure in your core as his tongue began to skillfully work, pulling moans from your mouth. How was he so good at this? Experimenting with different strokes, different pressure, finding what you like. 

“Just like that, oh my god.” He rolled his tongue against your clit, eyes finding yours once more, keeping pace. You could see the corner of his mouth pull up in a smirk as he began to work you up to climax. “You’re such a fucking asshole, I hate that fucking smirk.” Head hitting back against the door as he used his fingers to tease your opening. “Oh my god.” Your hips bucked against his face, causing him to use the arm currently wrapped around your thigh to splay open on your abdomen, holding your hips still. The wet noises and soft grunts from the man between your thighs only caused you to grow closer to your release. 

“You taste so fucking good baby,” moaned between your thighs. 

“Don’t fucking stop.” You scolded. So close. So fucking close. He obeyed, continuing his assault on your dripping pussy, fingers entering your tight channel to stroke against your sensitive walls. He buried his face further into your pussy, nose coming to rest in the soft curls there as he watched you come undone. Your moans escalating in volume as you felt your body tighten with pleasure, hips begging to buck against his face as he rode you through it. He continued to lick and suck on your clit until your hands found his head, pushing him away, legs shaking as you dropped against the door, knees coming to rest around his body. 

That fucking smirk, “How was that?” He asked, face glistening with your cum. 

“Fuck you Ransom.” And he fucking laughed the bastard. What a fucking dick. He brought his face back to yours, gently claiming your lips. The tang of your pussy ever present as you felt him consume you. Your heart was still racing as he picked you up from the floor, bringing you into his bedroom and ever so gently laying you down on the sheets you had just changed two hours ago. 

His eyes were shifting between yours, a strange expression on his face. 

“You can’t kick me out tomorrow Ransom,” Your breathing was heavy as he began to work at your neck, his hands going to remove his gym shorts. “I can’t leave.” He pressed his lips back to yours as you felt him rub the tip of his dick against your clit, your body shaking with over-stimulation. It felt so intimate. Before, his eyes on yours as he brought you over with his tongue and now as he slowly enters you, stretching your walls with his thick cock, eyes not breaking contact he sighs,

“I think you’re the only person I’ve ever loved.” 

[urlocalnctstan]

𝚃𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜

Genre : Angst, Fluff, Slow-burnish, Idol AU

Pairing : Jaehyun x Reader ft.Mark (other members too)

Warning(s) : strong language, age-gap, mature contents, weird writing style lmao, uh what else? idk but yeah

Disclaimer :The story is completely fictitious, idol-fan relationships are not common so some of you crazy ones out here, pls don’t get too delusional, your oppas will be your oppas only virtually, not in real life.

Playlist : Youtube Link / Written

Word Count : 5.4k

Summary : ‘Time and tide waits for none’- a quote that is universally accepted and believed. You both had had your experience of meeting the right one at the wrong time, the concept of love long forgotten after the sudden downfall of your relationship together. But will time eventually heal everything for you both?

The car came to a halt, your mind subconsciously drifting back to the humiliation you faced tonight back at the office.

“ARE YOU FUCKING DUMB, Y/N?” your boss was a fuming mess, his whole office scattered with the documents you had brought just a few moments ago. At the sight of the shredded papers, you felt you heart clench. You worked so hard for this project, disregarding God knows how many nights of your sleep. The feeling of abomination was slowly creeping up from the pit of your stomach towards the man who stood taut, seething in rage.

“HOW MANY TIMES DID I TELL YOU TO JUST DO WHAT THEY ASKED YOU TO?” He yelled, his fist furiously banging on his wooden desk, beneath his hand rested some pieces of the torn documents.

“Sir, even you know how risky it is to design as they asked to. If a blunder happens it is our company that is to be held accountable, not theirs.” you knew it was pointless to reason with the stubborn headed prick, but you had to try out your luck.

“Get out. Out, out, out. Get your fucking face out of my face.” He swished his index finger repeatedly, letting out a frustrated shriek just as I was about to exit his office. His wrath was nothing new in the office, as all the other employees shot me a rather pitying look when they saw me exiting the team leader’s office with hands full of ripped papers. Wow, my 2 weeks worth of sleep. Just wow. You didn’t bother to reciprocate their sympathetic glances, storming out of the corridor as you furiously started clicking the floor to your cabin. The jabbing of your finger on the glowing button that read ‘13’ was the only sound that resonated in the fairly empty area, earning annoyed looks from the two individuals who stood right behind you.

“Ah, fuck.” You banged your head against the steering, recalling the even as you clutched the handles harshly. “Why,” another bang. “do I,” bang. “live like” bang. “this,” bang. You could feel your face was burning without even touching it, streams of tears flowing down. Just as you were about to give yourself another bang, the sudden honk of a car made you pause amidst your ritual. Indeed all motherfuckers love to test my patience. You decide to ignore the rider, mainly because you were also partially at fault for resting in your car in the middle of the park. You twisted the metal keys as the ignition went off, signaling your car was ready to flee. Yet again, you were distracted by soft knocks. You prayed to God to help you not lose your shit, at this point you were questioning if He ever hears your woes at all. The soft knocks stop immediately when you started to pull down the window, the person straightening only crouch again.

“Y/n?” his called out unsurely, as if he were afraid of mistaking you for someone else. You knew that voice, and that is not good news. Shit.

“Mark?” you were surprised to say the least, not expecting to run into an old friend. “Oh my god! How have you been?” You shoot out of your driver’s seat, instantly being engulfed into a bone crushing hug by the male.

“I have been good. Oh god, I can’t believe this! I can’t believe I ran into you after so long!” Mark still held you tight your embrace, the sudden reunion making him feel giddy with excitement.

“Yes indeed,” you were the first to pull out from the hug. You took a moment to study him; black mask covering half of his face as he smiled widely, eyes crinkled and the signature cheekbones still the same as they were in the past. God, it’s really been so long. “What are you up to these days?”

“Er,” Mark scratched his head as he laughed nervously, unsure if he was allowed to give you spoilers about his new album. “I have been working on my solo album actually.” 

“Are you for real?” You found yourself hugging Mark again at the joy of his successful career. “I’m so so proud of you mate!”

“Thank you, thank you,” Mark swayed you lightly, his voice muffled due to the mask he wore. Mark was the one to pull out now, still keeping your caged as he placed his hands on your shoulders. “In no way I am gonna let you leave without a trace again,” he almost groaned.

“Promise, I won’t anymore,” you signaled to the stack of files that rested on the backseat of your car. “They won’t leave me alone.”

“I’ll just ask your boss to assign you with more tasks then,” he giggled mischievously, earning a light smack from you at the mention of such an absurd idea.

“I’ll track your way to hell to kill you again if you do something like that,” you hissed at Mark, who was still giggling at your frustrated reaction. The atmosphere became quiet as Mark looked up in the vacant sky, deep in thoughts while you waited for him to continue. Your phone buzzed against your leather coat.

[From Bullhead] : Don’t think I am overlooking your mess. This is the first and final warning from me.

You shivered, half from the cold and half from the text you just received.

“26th, sharp at 8 PM, my place.” He snapped his fingers, hooting at the realization of having a free day in his busy scheduled life.

“Okay, done.” You should have refused, you thought. But for some reason, you found yourself agreeing to his offer, you felt both sad and guilty for disappearing out of your friend’s life without a trace. However, you couldn’t ignore the greedy feeling you felt, the want to see him again. “I think I should be done around...7:30? So I think I’ll be able to make it.” You unlocked and handed him your phone.

“You have to make it,” his eyes focused on the screen of your device, swiftly typing what you assumed was him number. “Just incase, text me if I happen to forget - no I know that look, Y/n, you must text if that happens..” He rolled his eyes, knowing that how much you would be overthinking about possibly tiring him because of his busy lifestyle. Mark dialed his number from your phone before handing it back to you. You visibly snickered at the name he saved his contact with : ‘My Boo MarkLee <3’ 

“Stop pretending as if you never renamed my existence as Markie Boo,” he groans, remembering how this has been his another one of the hundred pet names he had. Your conversation was cut mid way as his phone loudly vibrated in his phone, swiftly pulling it out as the guy whined in annoyance.

“Yo, I gotta go now I guess, something came up at the company.” He looked sad, pouty. “See you around, yeah?” You were pulled into another hug by the male, he surely loved to hug as usual.

“Yes, yes. Now go. Don’t be late.” You patted his back, pulling out of the hug and shooing him away towards his car.

“See ya, Mom.” He beamed as he sped off with his car. 

“Dumbass.” You muttered, softly laughing at the name he would always call you by, despite being years younger than him. You rounded around your car, getting inside. The start was bad but the end was good nonetheless. The keys of your car jiggled as you closed the door. Again, you twisted the keys, your mood slightly better than before for which you were grateful. Your car’s ignition blared, as you positioned towards the exit of the park, subtly muttering ‘long ass ride.’

The digits ‘7:37’ glowed on the the small digital clock beside your desktop. You felt stiff, stretching your neck as your bones made those cracking noes. You stare at your toes, zoning out was your passion and you excelled at it. You snapped straight, letting out a deep sigh as you started to scheme the projects before you were to hand them over to your bullhead boss. Soon enough, you were done, muttering almost too loudly for everyone that you wished your boss would be napping off instead of being awake.

Good for you, your prayers were answered for the first time in a while. You quietly placed the files that contained all the details that needed to be checked again by your boss, quietly making your way out of his cabin as soon as possible. On you way, you informed his secretary you were leaving, her face wore distraught and annoyance but softens as she saw you approaching. Sometimes you felt sympathetic towards her, often asking the heavens to bless her with utmost patience and perseverance to deal with the bullhead.

The marble floor clicked with every step you took, the sounds eerily audible in the serene lobby. It was very rare for the lobby to be filled with people in evening, the employees would practically sprint off their seats as soon as the clock hits 7. You made your way out of the building, making a mental note to buy a gift for Mark on your way back to home. What would he like? Take outs? Homemade? Wine? You drove across the street before halting your car in front of the department store that was situated just a few blocks away from your office. The header of the store glowed, the alleys seemingly half-crowded with people of different occupations you assumed. You let out a hiss as you felt a chill run down your spine, it was almost the end of Autumn which meant Winter was just round the corner. You decided to rely on your instincts, deciding to gift your friend a fancy bottle of wine despite having zero knowledge about it.

You were never quite the fan of wine. According to you, the seemingly alcoholic drink was too expensive, plus the etiquettes that came along for its consumption would always just make your turn your head away every time you laid your eyes across one. You schemed through the white shelves filled with different tastes and colors of wine, each hailing from various corners of the world. “How do I even spell it?” You crouched down a bit to a bottle that had caught your attention, the exquisite name was starting to make your head hurt. It’s probably a white wine you thought, the transparent color of the liquid was what made you convince. But something rather nostalgic caught your sight, before you could even realize, you found your fingertips caressing the cold glass bottle of the red liquid that you held now.

“If were to be a drink, then what would I be?” You lazily laid sprawled across the couch in the living, while you boyfriend who sat on the marble floor across fumbles with the knotted bunch of cables. Jaehyun had his gaze focus of the wire maze in his hands, eyebrows furrowed and lips pouted in immense concentration.

“Peach milk,” he smiled, unbeknownst to you he was actually implying a double meaning for his answer.

“And why that?” You felt his choice a bit amusing, not really expecting that as an answer.

“Because I love your ass and boobs,” he winked, only to be hit by a pillow that was resting beneath your curled legs. Jaehyun felt himself giggling by your reaction, it was cute to see you being annoyed. “Babe, c’mon. I can’t lie about it.” 

“Never mind, just forget it.” You started to get a bit pissed, hurt as well because your sensitive ass thought he would probably say something sweet that would make you heart flutter. 

“Peach milk is my favorite, that’s the main reason why,” Jaehyun shifted his focus back to the cables, the last two knots were too adamant to let go of each other. You felt yourself smiling, too wide, he definitely knew you well. Cheeky bastard.

“What about me?” he asked, eyes still focused as he working on untying the last knot.

“Hmmm...” you shifted your position on the couch, now sitting up as you stared your boyfriend’s figure for a short while.

“Red wine.” sophisticated, classy, unique, warm. If you were to describe the aura around him, these would be the first choices.

However, your answer seemed to have caught Jaehyun’s attention, pausing in his tracks as he got curious as to why the specific choice. He had a huge grin on his face, he adored how you remembered the specific detail of red wine being his favourite, for he mentioned it in your first date which was 2 years back. But he knew there was more to it. He knew you too well. “But why red wine?”

You kept your gaze fixated on Jaehyun as he gets up from the ground, putting the cables in a secure manner to avoid another tie war. He hugged the pillow tight which you had previously thrown on him, before propping down beside you on the couch with a tired sigh, looking at you intently. It was as if you both were having a staring contest. So you rested your head on your right hand, both staring each other with soft smiles before you continued.

“You are much more to what everyone thinks you are,” you notice how Jaehyun cocks an eyebrow, still staring and trying to process what you just said.

“Just like wine, the more I know you, the more I know just how amazing you are. Both sweet and sour, but the balanced ratio of it is what makes you more admirable.” You admired how he was always able to balance things out, prior to what everyone believes about him, he had both good and bad sides to him. And that’s what made him more human, him acknowledging his flaws. That’s what made you fall for him.

Hearing you, Jaehyun thought he might dislocate his jaw anytime soon for smiling so hard. His heart started to do all sort of flips, ears starting to pink. It was at times like this when you don’t need words to express how you were feeling, silent but the communication was still present. Jaehyun slides his hand into yours, you glanced at both of your intertwined fingers before looking at him, his eyes full of hearts for you. You giggled, feeling shy at his intense stare but returning him the same way.

“I love you,” he whispered, his starry eyes which were only looking at you.

“Excuse me miss,” You jolt at the sudden change of voice coming from behind you. You whip around, a girl probably in her late teens stood nervously, her hands fidgets with the belts of her backpack. 

“Miss, you were kinda in the way so..” you felt flustered for absent-mindedly drifting into your dreamland while shopping for your friend, chiding yourself mentally in the process.

“Ah, I am so sorry,” you moved swiftly to the side to allow the teen some space to carry out her shopping. “Please, carry on.” You smiled softly. Though at the back of your mind you wanted to point out how she shouldn’t be consuming alcohol, but disregarded the urge nonetheless. Sometimes children should get to enjoy their minimal amount of fun in their youth too. You were still clutching the red wine bottle in your hand, eyeing it one last time before placing it back in the racks. You cleared your throat, as if to let the voices speaking inside your head know that you are not a stupid 20 year old anymore. You shake your head, glancing around to inspect if others were judging your state before proceeding to the counter for the random wine you picked which might have cost you half of your monthly salary. It’s okay to spend once in a while.

Mark was literally running around his apartment. Running. His head shot up as he remembered something. “Shit, fuck, are the bathroom lights okay?” he murmured to himself, sprinting off to the bathroom that was located in his vast living room first, followed by the ones in his bedroom and guestroom. Mark was still a newbie to the norms of living alone, him being a newborn living-alone man for sparsely 2 months. And he would barely be home due to his schedules. There were even times he would just forget his own bedroom.

“What else, what else,” he glanced over the whole area eyes drifting here and there before he realized something. Dumbass forgot to check if there were even enough food for two. Mark quickly scurried to the kitchen counter, the utensils were more than enough before checking his fridge. Beers? Check. Soju? Check. Kimchi? Check. Slices of chicken breast? Check. But the 33 year old still felt something was missing. Mark shifted his focus on the wooden shelf that was just above the kitchen sink, the transparent glass door of it making a creak sound as he opened it. For an apartment who’s owner was barely home, the shelf was definitely well packed and organized. It contained all sorts of ramen, tteokbokki and any other fast food you could name. “What else, what else, what else, what else,” he kept chanting, as if by some magic his chants of short memory would be heard and he would know what else was he missing out. He hunched over the lower shelf to inspect if all the sauces his housekeeper stores for him were present there. Absorbed in his thoughts, Mark did not notice the sudden sound of his bell going off, before the sounds just got repeated and even more louder. 

“What the fuck?” his eyebrows creased in annoyance, cussing out all the profanities he had in his vocabulary at the visitor’s insolent mannerism. Mark was beyond pissed, the person behind the other side of the door not only disrupted his memory battle but also had the audacity to ring the bell like a 3 year old in the middle of the night. Instead of just answering from the intercom, he directly opened the entrance door. “Look, it’s like 11 in the night - Hyung?” Mark halted his rant session as he realized it was Jaehyun standing in front of his house. Covered in black shirt, black mask, black pants - black everything, it would take a while for others who did not know him personally to recognize the member of the top boy group in the industry.

“Were you shitting or something,” Jaehyun smiled before casually giving his best friend a hug. Mark pulls out some of the spare slippers he had stored, while Jaehyun sits on the wooden step as he unties the knots of his black adidas. As Jaehyun get ups, he looks over to the other male standing in front of him, then down at the slippers and then again to the male.

“What?” Mark laughed, his hands shifting to the sides of his waist.

“Mark, please don’t go shopping by yourself next time,” Jaehyun silently judged Mark for offering him the fluffly colourful pink body and yellow polka dots slippers, similar to the ones he was wearing but the combination in opposite. 

“I got them from the BOGO offer going on in the supermarket just down the lane,” Mark wiggled his toes under the furry layer of clothing, slightly humming at the texture. “Bro this shit comfortable and cute, you can’t deny that.”

Jaehyun gives him another look, amused at how his bandmate’s old habits were still the same. “I help you out with your fashion choices next time. Don’t worry.” He patted Mark’s should, a sympathetic grin on his face as he anticipated the other male’s dramatic reaction. 

“Oh please,” Mark scoffed. “More like you need my and Johnny hyung’s assistance for your monotonous wardrobe!”

Jaehyun laughed at his friend’s rebuttal before lazily propping himself on the bean sack in the living room with a low hum. Oddly enough, Mark’s apartment felt more homely than his own apartment which was just above a few floors.

“But what brings you here?” Mark walks over to his fridge, judging by his friend’s sudden visit, he knew drinks had become a necessary part of the night. “And what about Hayoung?”

“What about her?” Jaehyun raised his eyebrow at Mark, skillfully catching the beer Mark had tossed to him after asking about Hayoung, Jaehyun’s, well complicated girl something.

“I though you guys might just....I don’t know, be official or something.” Mark stole a glance towards his friend, nervously opening his can. The momentary pin drop silence was an indicator, he indeed blurted something he should not have. The fizzy hiss of the beer can being opened barely broke the ice.

“I don’t do things like official,” Jaehyun scoffed, producing a low sigh after sipping the beer. Mark decided not to further press his friend, despite having an old unresolved grudge against Jaehyun somewhere deep within him. It had been years since all of that had happened, but he still felt hostility creep up inside every time he remembers that night, that week, that month. After all, it was you that Jaehyun had completely broken, torn and ripped apart.

Unbeknownst to the rummaging thoughts inside the mind of his bandmate, it took a while for the older to realize how oddly clean and organized the apartment looked. Jaehyun turned to Mark, eyebrows raised with mischievousness coating his words. “You having someone for the night tomorrow?”

Mark almost made a disgusted face but instead opted to scrunch. “Bro, I don’t have Tinder, neither do I wanna be a carrier of STDs.” Mark placed his empty can on the small glass table, simultaneously letting out a tired huff. Jaehyun almost took an offense to the statement, the attack was definitely but indirectly made towards him. But he decided to shrug it off, Mark was not lying after all. Jaehyun did not even know half of the girls’ names he had slept with, someday or another mixing up names which ends in him getting kicked out or being cursed out. That was what had happened that night as well. 

“Okay, I forgot. Hayoung, yes. Speak.” Jaehyun shot an incredulous look to the younger, as if he was able to read his mind or something. Mark only furrowed his eyebrows at the reaction.

“I-I....got kicked out,” Jaehyun’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the sharp eared male was able to catch his friend’s low murmur. Mark stifled his giggle, only to receive a glare from his friend. Jaehyun ran his fingers through his newly dyed lilac hair. Fucking embarrassing.

“But what made her do that?”

Jaehyun felt chills run down his spine as the scenario replayed in his head. He shivered despite the heater being on, an amused Mark glancing while chugging down the small remaining amount of beer. Mark was being a gentleman trying to conceal his laughter as Jaehyun rambled how he managed to fuck up yet another good hook-up buddy. At this point, Mark was not even surprised. Victim to his obvious facial expressions, Mark hated lying, and equally hated being lied to as well. Jaehyun side glanced his friend, a loud annoyed snort escaping from him. “Having fun, aren’t you?”

“Well, I mean it’s fun — sorry,” Mark clears his throat. He should be the type of friend who gives advices instead of laughing. Mark wiggled in his seat, distorting the empty can before having a perfect shot in the trashcan just a few feet away from him. Smooth one.

“I think I might retire, or just quit after the current contract ends,” Jaehyun felt tight, the words came out from him in a way too suffocating form. Mark visibly tenses, his laidback posture now crouching forward to his friend. Mark was too pre-occupied in his escalating solo career, the support he had been getting even before the official stage was way too much for him to fathom, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. A stinging guilt crept up inside him, chiding himself of being such an inconsiderate friend. “It’s high-time I start to live on my own accord.”

Mark decided to rather not pressurize the half-drunk dude with his numerous questions as to why or what has made him to take such a step. Jaehyun struggled to keep his eyes open, exhaustion was taking over his body ever faster now that he had booze in his system. Jaehyun would have rather opted to just spend the night on the couch (he preferred Mark’s limited edition long L shaped sofa over any king sized bed) but the guy decided to not get welcomed by his mate as ‘good morning.’ Mark put a hand on Jaehyun’s knee, an attempt to stop the non-stop stomping which was a very well-known drunk habit of him. Piling the blankets he just brought, the younger warned again, eyes like red lazer lights before trudging towards his bedroom. 

Feet wobbly, Jaehyun struggles to drag his build to switch off the remaining lights in the living room, glancing throughout the long empty space. He gulped down harshly, the familiar empty feeling creeping back to him which he had been avoiding for so long — for years. Jaehyun took a deep sigh, the heavy feeling feeling weighing down his chest as he took light steps towards the big glass window which granted him the view of the whole city. His eyes flickered at the luminous sight. He felt big but small, full, content but numb and empty. 

“Hyung, you’re still awake?” a sleepy voice spoke from behind, breaking out Jaehyun from his trance. 

“Huh?” It took a moment for him to process an answer. “Uh yeah. just like that. You go sleep.”

Mark shrugged, walking towards his bed as Jaehyun plopped down harshly on the duvet, wincing slightly as he felt a sprain in his lower back. With the alcohol slowly losing its effect on him with each passing second, Jaehyun started to feel more sober, more drawn back into the reality. He hated it. This feeling he was feeling.

Mark was having a rather difficult time to fall asleep. He even put on a random sleeping eye mask he uses for travelling, but alas that did not help either. He was too giddy, too excited for tomorrow. Pulling up the blankets over his head, Mark was assured he was safe from everyone, even maybe from God as a huge grin breaks out on his face. As much as he hates to admit it, Mark loved how things turned out to be the way they were.

“Oh god, this is so awkward. Oh god can I please please just die already?” Mark halted on his steps at the voice, glistening in sweats after the recent stage. He thought it would be an adventure to opt for the public washroom in disguise since the green rooms’ ones were all occupied by the rest of the members; and boy, Mark was really giving his all hold his pee.  

“OH GOD!” the sudden yelp caused the male to shriek quietly, muttering an inaudile ‘jesus’. Despite the odds, Mark decided not to test his luck, holding in the bubbling feeling just before explosion as much as he could. Muttering quiet curses, the male struggled to hold his posture as he stealthily tried to get to the other side of the stairs. Too busy in his on the way to urination voyage, Mark realized it was too late, he bumped. Bumped into someone. A girl. Hell yeah fucked. Panic crept at the back of his throat as he anticipated what was coming forth. Him being surrounded by numerous fan as he desperately tries to hold his pee. What a fucking sight.

“Look, I know you might be a staff or something,” Mark whipped his head at your voice. “But please just oh god,” you rambled, leaving the man standing with his legs crossed tightly in utter confusion. “I had no idea — Mark Lee?”

The colors from his faced drained, Mark turned casper for a split second. 

“PLEASE!” he was quick to react, half-whispering as he desperately caught your hands. “Please don’t just, uh.., shout or something.”

You immediately raised your hands in defense. “I uh have no reason to do so?” You stated, observing how he was literally squirming, it did not take you long to understand that the canadian needed to go the washroom as soon as possible. ”Oh!” You quickly moved. “Sorry for blocking your way!” Before he could even say thank you, you disappeared without any trace. Mark made a quick mental note to thank you, well that only if he ever happens to cross paths with you again. And deep down, he wised he would. On the other hand, you let out another distressed growl, promising to all of the heavens that never will you be ever accompanying your cousin sister, or let alone come to any concerts from now on. The stunt your drunken cousin had pulled just a while ago was humiliating enough, but of course, she had to spice it up by vomiting on the hallways just in front of the green room. You silently prayed and hope with all your might that maybe they will be generous enough not to sue you or ask for compensation for the mess, looking around cautiously for any employees before you sprinted off for the exit door, and yes, dragging the passed out stunt lady.

Mark felt as if he had a halo above his head, the water balloon inside him finally set free. But he had to race when he saw his phone buzzing with notifications, all of them belonging to his manager or the group chat of the members chanting same syllables ‘Where are you’ ‘show starts in 2′ ‘get yo ass here’. It did not take the rapper too while before he reached the green room, the makeup artists and stylists immediately wrapping themselves around him with brushes and hair sprays. He was smiling, genuinely smiling as he replayed the encounter he just had. Johnny raised an eyebrow with an amused grin on his face. 

“What’s with the smile, bro?” Johnny pulls up some random exercises to relieve the tension in his muscles.

Instead of dodging his question, Mark replied, still smiling, but wider. “The pee voyage was a nice one.”

Johnny judged the younger for a second before chuckling and heading towards the stage. The loud noises from the fans echoed throughout the whole arena, full of green lightsticks gleeming like blossoming spring garden. No wonder I called them grass, Mark thought. But today, he was looking for a rather specific individual, his eye scanning almost all the faces in the crowd. He hoped to see you again, smiling gleefully as he performed, but thought that it was too greedy of him to want this much in a span of a day. And so he performed, for the first time without any pressure of doing good, enjoying every moment of the stage he was on and yet again, wished that maybe, maybe your paths will collide with his again.

.

.

.

part 2

[im-definitely-not-trash]

Here’s day three, thankfully on time. :) I tried to do less dialogue because my stories usually rely on dialogue a lot and I wanted to try something different.

Prompt #3: “Who did this to you?”

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

TW: referenced self-harm, infected injuries

Word count: 1536

Lance and Pidge were chilling playing video games. As they laughed at a characters death, Lance elbowed Pidge’s left arm playfully. She winced, quietly enough no one would hear, but Lance saw her face scrunch up in pain. He dropped the controller and pulled up her sleeve to her shoulder, Pidge protesting the whole time, trying to wiggle away. There were three long scratches on her upper arm, scabbed over and starting to scar, but Lance could see that they had been deep.

“Who did this to you?” he asked.

Pidge went quiet, shuffling away and pulling her sleeve down. Then she just stood up and walked out of the closet. Lance called after her, but she didn’t listen.

~~~

Over the next few days, Lance noticed that Pidge was treating him differently. She was fine around literally everyone else, but she hung out with Kosmo more than him. It was as if he’d done something to offend her, not worrying about her and what happened to her arm.

He tried several times to confront her again, wanting to find out why she was treating him like a disease and also to figure out what had happened and who had done it. But every time, she just ignored him and locked herself in her room so he couldn’t get to her.

Lance considered talking to Shiro about it, but ultimately decided against that. He wouldn’t have a clue what was going on. So he decided to leave her alone until she came back to be friends again.

~~~

His waiting time was cut short after about a week when Pidge showed up to breakfast looking exhausted and kind of green. She left her arm hanging by her side while she ate breakfast goo with her right hand. Her hand shook as she ate and Lance had to bite his tongue to not mention it in front of everyone. But after she excused herself without eating even half of her bowl, he knew something was way worse than it was before and he couldn’t just leave her to her own devices anymore.

He followed her out of the kitchen and snuck into her room with her (what a mess). She went into her bathroom, and Lance tried to watch through the crack in the door and the mirror what she was doing.

Pidge pulled her arm out of her sleeve, biting her lip to avoid making noise as tears spilled over. The three cuts in her arm had seemingly grown bigger, and they were discolored and oozing. Lance couldn’t take it anymore. He threw the door open, making Pidge jump.

“Come on, Pidge, who in the quiznak did this to you?? I’m going to kill who did this, I can’t believe anyone would hurt you! And why didn’t you ask for help at all?! It’s been at least a week that you’ve been hurt, and I know you haven’t said anything to anyone, and it’s pissing me off!”

Pidge was sobbing now, lightly grabbing her arm to curl up in a ball.

“Pidgey, I want to help you! Everyone does! Who did this?! We can’t just let someone like this to roam free to hurt anyone else. Just tell m—”

Pidge cried. “It was me!”

Lance shut up very quickly.

“You?” he asked in a whisper.

The tears wouldn’t stop streaming. “It distracts me, and I didn’t mean for it to get this bad, but I can’t stop thinking about Matt and my dad and my mom whenever Zarkon is going to make his way to Earth to hurt her and anyone else, and I can’t keep pretending that I’m not worried because I am but if I was worried, it would distract me from being a Paladin and so I needed to distract myself from getting distracted and when I distracted myself by my own terms it made it easier to fulfill my tasks as a Paladin, but it got bad and now I don’t know what to do because I can’t let anyone know and I’m still upset that you know and—”

“Pidge.”

She shook while looking at Lance. “What?”

The way her voice sounded, crackly and tired, made Lance want to cry too.

“We can help you. You don’t have to keep anything a secret from us. We can find other ways to distract you to focus, if that’s what you really need. But please, please, don’t hurt yourself as a distraction.”

Pidge sat stiff for a second, then just broke down crying again. Lance gathered her into a hug, carefully avoiding her arm.

“Can I tell the others, please?”

Pidge shook her head.

“Then can you tell them?”

She shook her head more frantically.

“They need to know, Pidgey.”

Her voice was muffled in Lance’s shirt. “They’ll think I’m not a real Paladin. I’m not worthy for it.”

“Shut the quiznak up, Pidge, you just told me you were doing this to be able to focus in the first place! And apparently it worked, at least until recently because of the infection. Now, call me a psychopath, but I’m glad the cuts got infected.”

Pidge went quiet again, stifling her sobs, but still shaking against Lance.

“Pidge, can we at least tell Coran? We need to treat the cuts.”

She was silent for a minute, then finally said, “Okay.”

“Okay. Good.”

Lance felt her grab onto him. “Can we stay here for a minute though?” she asked.

“Of course.”

~~~

When she told other Paladins as a group, they refrained from smothering Pidge because they could see how ashamed she was. But that didn’t stop them from individually going to talk to her.

Hunk was the first who showed up. He knocked on her door and came in when invited. They talked for a long time, Hunk telling her he somewhat knew how she felt but he wasn’t invalidating her experience. He asked if making foods from home would help, or make it worse, and she laughed, saying it would help and be delicious. His helpful distraction was food.

Allura showed up next. Once invited in, she simply asked if she could give Pidge a hug, and they sat together for a while. They talked about random things while always touching, and made plans for just the two girls to follow through with, no boys allowed. Allura’s helpful distraction was physical comfort.

Coran came in without permission, but he thought it was okay because it’s technically his castle. He joked with Pidge about anything he could think of, and sincerely asked where milkshakes came from if not from Kaltenecker herself. Pidge laughed at almost anything he said, and tried her hardest to explain how cows (and mammals in general) work. Coran’s helpful distraction was his natural humor.

Lance had already gone in several times, in between everyone, trying to not leave Pidge alone. If she wasn’t alone, she’d be distracted. Pidge understood the real reason why he was spending so much time with her, to prevent her from going back to her unhealthy distraction, but she appreciated it anyway. They played card and video games, talked, had spa nights, and did basically anything at anytime. His helpful distraction was quality time.

Keith came in and just sat on her desk while she sat on her bed. Pidge occupied herself messing with some gadget, and Keith awkwardly sat, waiting for the right moment. When he finally started talking, Pidge almost jumped. He explained how after he was left alone, sometimes his mind would run wild and he wasn’t able to focus on surviving. Even in the space cadet program at the Garrison, he had to distract himself so he could focus on being a pilot. He had chosen the same way, and he thought for sure that it was helping. Keith showed her his scars on the back of his wrists and the inside of his elbow. He told her how he lost sleep over it because his arms always hurt and his attitude got worse until he got kicked out. He had to distract himself more to avoid thinking about how disappointed Shiro would be and how he would live by himself. It wasn’t until he had gotten invested in finding what turned out to be the Blue Lion that he had stopped. He offered his help in the way that she could ask for literally anything, help cleaning her room, someone to talk to, anything that he didn’t have in that period. Keith’s helpful distraction was himself.

Shiro was the last to confront Pidge about anything. And confront her he did. He didn’t offer any distraction, only a listening ear so she could face what was always on her mind. Shiro understood more than anyone, because he was with Matt and her dad, and he left someone on Earth. And because of how he knew that, he knew that she needed to face it as well as distract when it was appropriate. He was helpful by not offering her a distraction.

And with all of these people around her, so willing to help, Pidge knew she’d be okay and she’d be able to work harder and in turn, defeat the Galra.

She can do it.

[prettywordsyouleft]

MonX Hospital | Hyungwon

Pairing: Chae Hyungwon x reader

Genre: dietitian – hospital au / romance / fluff

Warnings: medical and nutrition terms, a little hint of enemies to lovers but not really enough to label it as that

Word count: 3719

Index: Shownu | Wonho | Minhyuk | Kihyun | Hyungwon | Jooheon | Changkyun

“Holly,” Seungwoo called out and the registered nurse turned around to your group standing there, a bright smile crossing her lips. “Can you give us a hint?”

“Let me guess,” she started, pointing at the four of you with a playful smirk. “Mentoring season?”

“Who’s the best doctor to be assigned to?” Soyou asked earnestly and Jeongmin beside you nodded.

“Give us your expertise from working alongside them all.”

The nurse approached the group of students, folding her arms across her chest. “Well, that would be Doctor Coffee.”

“Doctor who?” Seungwoo questioned, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “Ah, don’t mess with us, Holly!”

“I’m serious, tell me who you all got?” the nurse instructed and then once you were all done, you listing over Doctor Chae as your assigned registrar, she looked at you smiling a little more. “Doctor Coffee is the best to learn from, I stand by it.”

“Why is he called that?” you wondered and she patted you on the shoulder, departing your little group with ease.

“You’ll find out!”

You weren’t sure what to expect from Holly’s recommendation, especially since she was referring to a dietitian. Maybe, it was just a fun nickname, and Doctor Chae was known to have a cup of coffee each morning. That didn’t stand out as something to refer to him as, over your several years studying a Bachelor of Science and now wrapping up your Masters in Nutrition and Dietetics, you had become accustomed to coffee as a vice for yourself, and the majority of students and health professionals you crossed paths with regularly. Coffee seemed to be the staple brew in the health industry.

In fact, as you headed towards Doctor Chae’s clinical room the following morning, you were carrying a takeout cup along with your assorted learning tools. Knocking once on his door, you smiled brightly when he called out for you to enter.

“Hello, I’m Y/N,” you greeted, placing your things down so you could wipe off your hand and hold it out to the doctor. He peered at you disinterestedly, barely gripping onto your hand before returning his gaze to the screen. Trying not to be offended, you watched him silently, one hand swishing an iced Americano around whilst the other scrolled over a patient’s file.

Finally, the doctor spoke. “How long are you joining my clinic for?”

“A month.”

“Okay,” he simply replied, going back to his notes.

Waiting for direction, you glanced awkwardly around the room. “Where should I set up?”

“Somewhere that suits your needs best and doesn’t interfere with the patient consultations.”

Was Holly right that learning from such a prickly doctor would be best? You grumbled inwardly knowing the others were no doubt assigned to more approachable staff.

Once the remnants of his cold beverage were finished, you were surprised by the change in activity out of the man. He threw the cup in the trash, stood up and stretched a little, ready for his first patient. The mood in the entire office improved tremendously, as if the last drop of coffee had to be consumed before the doctor kicked into gear.

You perked up by this, sitting up at your little station more eagerly.

And then it was go time.

You were immediately thrown into the issues various patients were having, writing down both your own notes and anything Doctor Chae asked of you. He was incredibly engaging with each session, both with the patient and with you. It was as if you were in a different office than the one you first stepped into.

The young doctor was brimming with knowledge and helpful tips to both you and his clients. He identified issues in their lifestyle and eating plans and explained everything in a way that was informative without sounding too jargon-loaded.

You almost had to wipe your chin for drool at one point; it had hung open in awe for far too long.

The first week of your practical module went by in a blur that it wasn’t until you were starting your next week in Doctor Chae’s office that you picked up on some observations of your mentor.

You had already become accustomed to his indifference in the morning before his first caffeine hit for the day, and there were several other instances where he returned with another cup within his hand from a meeting or lunch, and had even asked when you went to buy yourself a juice if you could get him a coffee whilst at the cafe last Friday. It hadn’t stood out to you as a problem until he sat down with a man in his early 40s who was facing several dietary concerns.

“How many cups of coffee are you drinking throughout the day?”

The man rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “About four to six, depending on the workload.”

“That’s a lot of coffee,” Doctor Chae mentioned and before you could hold it in, a snort left you. Both men within the room glanced at you as you flushed red, apologising quietly and then repositioned your laptop in attempts to deflect the attention away from you. The doctor cleared his throat a little before continuing with his questions for the patient. Once he was done with his diagnostics, he listed off various ways to help the man recover from burnout, lower his stress and support all this with a balanced diet – one in which didn’t include as much caffeine.

And once the patient left the room, Doctor Chae shut the door behind his farewell and turned towards you. “What was that?”

“Huh?”

“The snort within my consultation.”

You smiled guiltily. “Sorry.”

“No, tell me why you snorted exactly.”

“Well,” you started, feeling as if you were balancing on a dangerous edge with how intense Doctor Chae’s gaze was upon you. Still, you decided to use facts. “You had five cups of coffee yesterday.”

“And in your clinical impression of me so far, Y/N, are you mocking me?”

“I just found it interesting that your patient was drinking too much caffeine and as someone who is highly regarded as a nutrition expert, you know how bad it is for you and still do the same.”

“Interesting findings,” he responded curtly, returning to his desk. “What are your recommendations?”

“I uh, I don’t-”

“It was an observation you made over me, and I want to know if you were the doctor and I were the patient, what you would recommend.”

You panicked. “I’m not sure.”

“The right response is to lower caffeine intake slowly, ensure that I’m sleeping well and to look for alternatives to help with energy and any other reasons for why we take in too much caffeine as humans.” The doctor looked back at you questioningly. “Correct?”

“Yes.”

“So what would you recommend for me to drink this afternoon, Y/N?”

“More water, for one.”

“Can you go get me the biggest bottle you can find in this complex then?” he instructed, holding out his card. You stood up and took it with a quick nod, dashing out of the office and started your trek across the building to the café at the entrance.

Bumping into Jeongmin halfway, you let out an exasperated wail. He chuckled. “That bad with Doctor Coffee?”

“I have just made my working environment sour,” you lamented and the fellow student looked at you for further information. “Doctor Coffee doesn’t like being called out for not doing as he preaches. I accidentally snorted during clinical hours at a comment he made about caffeine intake and now he’s tasked me with getting him the biggest bottle of water I can find.”

“Rather you than me. Working with Doctor Laing has been a breeze. She’s so laidback.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled and Jeongmin nudged you playfully. You glowered at the path ahead. “I take back all I said about how much I was enjoying learning under him. He’s a narcissist.”

“Some doctors just don’t know how to take their own advice. Maybe he’s embarrassed that you called him out. I bet not many people have.”

You pondered the option and shrugged. “He could be. It wasn’t intentional.”

“Who knows, you might be good for one another. Him with all his expertise and you with your inability to keep quiet when you find fault.”

“Jeongmin!” you growled as your friend departed your side with a skip in his step. “Just you wait until I next see you!”

“Looking forward to it!” he called out across at the atrium with a fond wave. “Until then, may the water guide you towards clarity and peace!”

You huffed indignantly. Today was going to be a long day.

Doctor Chae did decrease his caffeine intake, at least for the remainder of that week. And whilst you tried really hard to keep your opinions to yourself, given he was prickly towards you for an entire day thereafter, you couldn’t help but find more fault with the dietitian's wellbeing.

He didn’t eat nearly enough, the coffee he did religiously still drink simply sloshing around in an almost empty stomach. He was also incredibly picky for someone who boasted to his patients to try and eat a wide range of food types where applicable.

For a successful dietitian, he was seemingly incapable of taking on his own advice.

“Y/N,” the doctor called out and you blinked out of your thoughts, smiling up at the man standing before you. “Are you going to share your observations?”

“The patient was too focused on weight loss-”

“Not those observations, the ones you’re basically sitting on top of your hands so you don’t spill out.”

“I’d rather, not Doctor Chae.”

“Hm, it must be an authoritative thing,” he muttered and then smiled at you. “Please, refer to me as Hyungwon when it’s just us. There. Now you can tell me.”

You laughed a little. “A name doesn’t take away our roles, Doctor Chae.”

“Hyungwon, please,” he repeated and then sat down on the bed beside your station. “Isn’t it annoying to withhold that information?”

“I’d like to keep working with you.”

“It’s that bad?” he guessed with a sigh, rubbing at his face. “I’ve tried with the coffee thing-”

“You barely eat. And what you do pick up is usually processed and only going to give your sugars a sharp boost and then fall rapidly, causing you to reach for the caffeine again. You don’t seem aware of how unbalanced your diet is, at least within this office and I don’t know if you’re tackling underlying medical conditions or live by a specific diet trend, which you and I both know don’t work for the majority of people and leads to unhealthy eating and medical conditions if overused.”

Hyungwon didn’t say anything for a moment, his arms merely remaining folded across his front. And then he broke into a bashful grin. “Feel better?”

“Oh, you have no idea how much,” you breathed and then blinked, your mouth falling agape. “Doctor Chae, I-”

“It’s easier to focus on others and what they eat,” he announced and you bit back the remainder of your apology. He didn’t seem mad this time, in fact, he was visibly flustered and you wondered if Jeongmin had been right the other week. Hyungwon cleared his throat and continued. “I much prefer making sure others are eating well.”

“Who is going to look out for you then?” you questioned and he became thoughtful before shrugging.

“I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Well, its lunchtime right now,” you mentioned, looking at the clock to confirm you were right for his scheduled lunch break. “How about we eat together?”

“Why would you do that? Don’t you meet up with your fellow student friends on break?”

You smiled brightly as you collected your bag. “Today, I’d much rather have lunch with you.”

The doctor was surprisingly out of his element as you dragged him across the road to an eatery, pointing out the different options before settling on a sandwich bar. You insisted that he add more than just meat and cheese to the roll, his uncomfortable expression causing you to giggle when you were seated across from him. “Doctor?”

“It’s very healthy.”

“It should be. A nice balance of carbohydrates, protein and fats. This will keep you going nicely for the rest of the afternoon, don’t you agree?”

“I don’t know if I like you or not, Y/N.”

“Well, I thought the same about you, admittedly,” you confessed, picking up your filled roll with a smile, thinking back to all the times you had worried over your placement in his office. Glancing at the man again, you merely grinned. “But I think I like you now.”

“Huh.”

There was a comfortable silence between you as you ate and when you both headed back across the road to the hospital, you felt lighter than you had all week long. Swinging your arms at your sides, Hyungwon watched you before smirking. “You’re like a kid.”

“Excuse me?”

“We’re in a place of work, and you’re too elated.”

“Should I come to this place grumbling and see it as a ten-hour sentence each day?” you wondered and Hyungwon smiled, loosening up his body a little more. You nodded eagerly. “Look at that, you’re more carefree as well!”

“Only until we have patients. Then the game face goes back on,” he instructed and you nodded, giggling as Hyungwon skipped across the atrium towards the Dietetics department.

The next day, you came armed with supplies. You guessed right that the coffee Hyungwon sluggishly made his way through was the only thing he had in the morning and placed a container of porridge in front of him, along with another snack-size pottle containing some fruit. “Y/N, I-”

Giving the doctor a reproachful stare, he groaned at you before eating the entire thing. You noticed he didn’t leave for his mid-morning coffee, and by lunch, he seemed more alert than his usual. Holding up another packed bag of food, you shook it gently. “I made us lunch. It’s nice outside, so shall we go on a picnic?”

“You know, Y/N, anyone would think you’re enjoying yourself right now,” he commented with a pout as you handed over his share of the meal you had made last night to bring today.

“I am.”

“I must admit, you know how to cook well.”

“Is that half the problem? Are you any good in the kitchen?” you asked and Hyungwon grew bashful. “I thought as much.”

“I never prioritised learning how to cook.”

“I bet your grocery list consists of pre-packaged meals.”

“I’m still in charge of you right now, Miss L/N,” he warned with a playful glint in his eye. “Stop calling me out like this.”

“You need to eat better.”

“Do I?”

“I’ll make sure you do!” you proclaimed and the man smiled to himself.

“You’re certainly making a point about it. Though next week is your last with me,” he mentioned carefully and you shrugged.

“My studies are held within this hospital, Hyungwon. It won’t be hard for me to continue this.”

“The bigger question is, why are you wanting to?” he asked boldly, staring at you with that intense gaze of his. You blinked a couple of times before smiling.

“I want to help you look after yourself. You do such an amazing job for others, someone should help you.”

“This won’t get you brownie points on my final assessment for you.”

You gasped noisily as he chuckled. “I was never aiming for that!”

“I suppose it does make sense for a dietitian to practice what he preaches.”

“Precisely,” you agreed smugly, holding up your bottle of water to clink with his. Laughing together, you finished your lunch before heading back in to work on the afternoon clinic.

As promised, even when your time in Hyungwon’s office came to an end, you still made a point of checking in with him. You couldn’t do the breakfast run but the doctor had taken to sending you pictures to make sure you left him alone about eating first thing in the morning.

And he had sent you one this morning which had you leaving your study session in annoyance, marching over to the outpatients sector of the hospital and towards the Dietetics department. Checking with the reception whether Doctor Chae was with or without a patient, you waited outside for him to wrap up with the patient inside before you barged through him when he went to shut the door after they left.

“Y-Y/N!” he exclaimed hastily, darting in front of you. Glancing around the office, you then glared at the man before you.

“Would you like me to tell you of my findings, doctor?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You see, I noticed that the lighting in today’s photo didn’t quite match the brightness of the world outside. Yesterday was overcast but today is not. And upon inspection, I see a coffee cup and no red and white spotted container. Funny, isn’t it? Because I’m sure you sent me a photo of your breakfast today.”

“I was in a rush.”

“Not that much of a rush that you couldn’t stop for coffee, Hyungwon.”

“You came all the way over here from class to tell me off for sending you the same photo twice? Come on Y/N!” he pointed out with a forced laugh, though you didn’t join him. Hyungwon gulped. “Fine, I’ll take you out for lunch.”

“You better.”

“I promise, now can I get back to seeing my patients?”

“I feel like you’ve become my patient,” you mentioned with a scowl, turning on your heel as you headed back to the university level of the hospital.

Breakfast and lunches together soon morphed into dinners as well. You hadn’t realised it, but you spent an awful lot of time together now. Standing in Hyungwon’s kitchen using his brand new cooking equipment, since he hadn’t really owned any before, you were almost done with dinner when Hyungwon appeared post-shower.

It should have dawned on you a whole lot sooner than now just how things had changed between you and the doctor.

You were unnaturally quiet over dinner and Hyungwon watched you carefully, putting down his utensils midway. “You figured out I didn’t eat breakfast again, didn’t you?”

“Huh?”

“I slept through my alarm. But this time I did get a blueberry muffin along with the coffee,” he continued, though when you didn’t praise his efforts, Hyungwon paused, narrowing his gaze. “What’s wrong with you?”

“N-Nothing.”

“Are you not happy with dinner? I thought you had done a good job,” he attempted, looking at his plate and then back to your face, still perturbed. “Y/N, you’re going to have to tell me so I can-”

“I think I’m in love with you,” you blurted out and Hyungwon rocked back in his chair, unmoving once the force of his action settled the seat again. You clamped your eyes shut. “I never realised just how much we’ve been acting like this for.”

“Acting like what?”

“Me coming into your world and making you eat each day. It was never my place.”

“No, but I’ve appreciated it. My health hasn’t been this good in years.”

“I stopped eating with my friends because I wanted to eat with you. And I’ve had fun doing so. We’ve been eating together for almost a year now.”

“Have we?” Hyungwon thought for a moment and then nodded. “So we have.”

“I’m guessing you don’t feel the same way,” you commented, pushing back your seat and standing up. “I should go.”

“Wait, Y/N!” he called as he came after you, taking a hold of your wrist and pulling you around. “I’m just confused about how you came to blurt out that you might love me when all you’ve done is talk about eating together.”

Looking up into his eyes as you tried to hold back your emotions from the sudden realisation, you inhaled a deep breath. “I could get used to doing more than just eating with you.”

“Last night we watched a movie together,” he pointed out and you nodded.

“See, we’re basically like a couple. You’re always helping me when I have problems too.”

Hyungwon smiled then, pushing your hair out of your face. “Can I tell you something?”

“Please, I feel like I’m going mad with how calm you are right now.”

“I thought we were already a couple,” he confessed and you merely stared back at him.

“What?”

“From when you were still being mentored by me. That last couple of weeks together, you insisted we ate together and treated me as if I was someone special to you. I knew back then I liked being around you. I mean, you were the first to point out just how easily I was forgetting myself. Your attention on me made me crave it more often.”

“Then why haven’t we made it official?”

Hyungwon shrugged sheepishly. “I didn’t think we needed to. I liked being with you and you seemed to like it too.”

“I do,” you agreed softly. “Why didn’t I connect what I felt for you was like I would of a partner until I saw you drying off your hair?”

“Did it feel highly domestic? You cooking dinner whilst I showered away my long day?” he offered and you reached up to place your hands on his shoulders.

“Can you continue that scene?”

“Hm, maybe I should thank the chef for her amazing meal.”

“That would be nice.”

Leaning in towards your lips, you closed your eyes and waited for impact. Instead, you felt the breath he expelled fall across your face, along with two words. “Thank you.”

“I think I’m going to kill you now,” you responded, snapping your eyes open right when Hyungwon pressed himself into you, kissing away your annoyance at his playful approach. Your eyes fluttered shut again and you fell within the kiss, humming in delight when he finally pulled away.

Hyungwon smiled at you affectionately. “Should we go finish dinner?”

“And watch a movie?”

“Then fall asleep against one another because it’s gotten late?”

You smiled, side-hugging the man as he moved you back towards the table in his apartment. “And eat breakfast together for the first time?”

“I really like the sound of that.”

_________________

Next: Jooheon

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[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance, Chapter 7: Hangovers and Confrontations

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

AO3 Link

I’ve been crazy busy this week, so this one is a bit short, I’m sorry! Thank you for your kind, complimentary, and h*rny thoughts in my messages this week. They truly keep me going. Big shoutout, also, to the few people that have messaged me angry about how long it’s taking Hotch and reader to get together - you had ample warning I was gonna drag this out ;) Final bit of business: there will be no chapter next Friday. I’m going to take the next two weeks to get ahead on writing so I’m not panicking when the content starts to get longer and more ~intense~. I’m sorry for that :( Thank you so much for your continued support, truly. You’re all amazing. Lastly - shoutout to @honeyshores for your advice on this one <3

Summary:  You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter Summary: You try to determine whether it's the hangover or Hotch causing more of your headache. 

Words: 2320

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

Your phone’s ringtone blared into your ear, waking you up from a dreamless sleep. Opening it to check the notification, you groaned at the bright light emitting from the screen. Upon seeing it was a text from Hotch, all traces of unconsciousness dissipated, and you sat up in bed, head pounding.

Ok, so you were really fucking hungover.

After Hotch freaked out on you last night and you ditched Cooper, you’d made it your mission to have fun with the rest of the team, which involved you buying everyone many more drinks. It worked - you didn’t leave until 2 am - but you were about to pay the price, because Hotch apparently wanted everyone at the office in 30 minutes. You checked the time.

7:00 am.

If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he was doing this on purpose.

You showered and threw on a dress, praying the commute to the BAU would give the 3 ibuprofen currently digesting in your otherwise empty stomach time to work.

  It didn’t - in fact, it just provided ample time for the nausea to set in. But by the haggard looks everyone else was shooting as they settled into the meeting room, they seemed to be in the same boat. 

Garcia, wearing massive sunglasses and laying on the couch in the corner, spoke first. “I threw up in the shower this morning.”

Morgan raised his head out of his crossed arms on the table, probably about to make some quip about Garcia and showers, but seemed to think better of being upright and laid his head back down with a grunt. 

“I feel great,” Reid said with a smile, prompting groans out of everyone, including yourself.

“That’s because you had like, 3 drinks.” JJ said. “And 2 of them were beer.”

“It’s also because I drank an appropriate amount of water. Did you know if you consume 8 ounces of water with each alcoholic drink, you can reduce the incidence of hangovers by-”

“Kid,” Rossi interrupted, taking a break from gulping down a massive mug of coffee. “Know your audience.”

“Everyone here?” Hotch asked, walking in and flicking on the lights, which earned him a collective hiss from the rest of the team. His shock at the reaction quickly turned to faint amusement. “More importantly, is everyone capable of working today without throwing up in a trashcan?”

“I’ll do my best, Sir, but I make no promises,” said Garcia, who definitely looked the worst for wear.

“Well, good, because Internal Affairs requested the Use of Deadly Force reviews early this year.”

Another groan from everyone, with the exception of you, who had no idea what reports he was referring to. As if reading your mind, Hotch turned to you and explained, “Use of Deadly Force reviews are required reports we fill out annually in which we analyze and justify every situation where deadly force was used against a subject. I know you weren’t here for most of these, but you can still help type them up, and it’ll be helpful to go over the cases for your learning.”

You nodded, not thrilled to watch the team dredge up the worst moments of the past year, but thrilled that today’s task didn’t require you to move from your chair. Hotch slid a box of files onto the table, reminded you all that he’d be in his office if you needed anything, and took his leave.

“Doesn’t he have to go over these with us, seeing as…” you trailed off, unsure how to speculate that Hotch was probably the one to take the shot in at least half of these cases.

Morgan knew what you were trying to say. “He goes over them before we submit the reports to Internal Affairs.” He grabbed the top file from the box and grimaced. “The Toelle case, man, remember that one?”

Prentiss sighed and rubbed her temples. “Just when I thought I might get through the day without losing my breakfast.”

  ____________

  You pushed your laptop away and slouched back into your chair. “I need a break.”

It was a miracle you’d made it to this point, honestly - your headache was now raging despite pain relievers, and you’d spent half the day meticulously poring over the actions of some of the BAU’s most gruesome killers. (Prentiss was right - the Toelle file had been enough to make everyone, even Reid, turn a little green).

“You doing alright, kiddo?” Rossi asked, peering over the file he was reading.

“Just hungover. Went a little harder than I expected to, ya know?”

“What happened with Hotch last night?” Reid asked.

“Reid!” JJ admonished. 

Morgan shrugged. “Hey, we’re all thinking it. We saw him drag you outside, then he stormed back in and left. How’d you manage to piss him off so bad?”

“I’m surprised you noticed anything. You were pretty occupied,” Rossi said, raising his eyebrows towards Garcia, who flushed scarlet. 

You laughed and sent a silent thank you to Rossi for taking the heat off of you. 

“He just told me the guy I was dancing with was on coke and that I shouldn’t hang out with him.” You shrugged. “It was weird and I kinda freaked out on him at first, but I guess he was right.”

That didn’t get the nonchalant response you expected - everyone looked just as confused as you were when Hotch had initially approached you.

“Wait, hold on,” Prentiss said, sitting forward. “He told you not to dance with that guy because he was on drugs?”

“Yeah,” you replied, “He said after Garcia got attacked by that one man, everyone on the team needs to be more careful about who they associate with. Is that not… the case…?”

You trailed off, because judging by the looks the rest of the team were exchanging, it definitely wasn’t .

JJ shook her head. “Hotch has never really cared what we do in our private lives unless it affects our job.”

“Yeah, like remember that time you dated Will for a year without telling us and we had to pretend we didn’t know?” Prentiss asked, grinning.

“Or that time you hooked up with the mail guy and you made us sign for your packages for the next month?” Morgan ribbed back at Prentiss.

“I was drunk -”

“I think you should talk to Aaron,” Rossi suggested gently over what was quickly becoming a team debate over who had the craziest love life.

Still reeling over the knowledge that Hotch’s erratic behavior towards you wasn’t merely some standard attempt to keep the team safe, you nodded and stood.

It was time for some answers, god damn it.

  The righteous indignation that spurred you towards Hotch’s office was quickly being replaced by nervousness as you neared. You considered turning back, but you were sure he heard you stomping down the hall, and you weren’t trying to make a habit of awkwardly hesitating outside like you had at his apartment. Despite his door being ajar, you knocked gently, and he looked up from his standard mound of paperwork and nodded. 

“Come in.”

You obliged and sat down across the desk from him, twiddling your fingers. He waited for you to speak, never one to opt out of awkward silence.

“I think we should talk about what happened last night. Sir.”

He cocked his head slightly, setting down his pen and folding his hands in front of him.

“What are you referring to?”

You hated how he did this - it was an interrogation tactic, you knew that. He’d make the subject describe a situation with which both parties were clearly familiar to get their interpretation of events, which was usually very telling. And, more importantly, it made them uncomfortable.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m referring to you pulling me away from the group and telling me not to dance with that guy at the club.”

Hotch sighed and picked his pen back up, scanning his paperwork, making it very clear he felt this conversation wasn’t worth his time. “I explained my reasoning last night. If you take issue with the standards I expect of my team outside of the office-”

“But you don’t,” you blurted out, cutting him off.

“Don’t what?” he asked, now looking at you.

“Don’t expect that of your team,” you explained. “I talked to them about it just now. They said you’ve never acted that way before.”

“Their interpretation of events may be different-”

“It’s not their interpretation,” you interrupted for the second time. “They told me about all their dating escapades and you’ve never made it your business, not once. Why am I different to you?”

You hadn’t intended that last part to come out the way it did, and you cringed at the vulnerability in your tone. He was silent for one, two seconds, and you knew then he was making a decision, that the answer to your question wasn’t the simple truth he’d projected it to be.

“You’re the youngest member of the team, and the least experienced. I feel a responsibility to make sure you don’t make any decisions that you may regret. I’m sorry if you felt I was out of line.”

The detachment in his tone felt like a punch to the gut. Some part of you had been secretly wishing, you supposed, that his actions betrayed something deeper - that you were different to him, and not just because you were young and naive. And when the team had reacted the way they did, you’d gotten your hopes up that it had meant something. Just like him telling you about his past. Just like him killing Matthews. Just like… it didn’t matter . Even if he had been lying just now, it wouldn’t have changed anything. He wasn’t letting you in because he didn’t want to. You’d overestimated your significance in his life, but in reality, you were probably no more than a blip on his radar. Hotch was the sun, the central point to which everyone around him was drawn, and you were a lonely, distant planet that had somehow convinced yourself you were close enough to have gotten burned. 

Choking back undeserved tears, you left his office, fighting the bile that was finally rising from your stomach, realizing that this was about to be the second time in as many days that your feelings for him had made you puke.

  ____________

  When Matthews lunged at you, he hadn’t spared a thought, not a moment for consideration before breaking his neck. He knew, even as he felt the vertebra detach from its seat in the base of the skull, that there had been other paths - not that killing him was unrequited, of course, but it was a last-resort type of action, and Hotch had never been a last-resort type of man. Morgan hadn’t questioned it, not beyond a hushed, “You good?” after the whole thing went down, but he could sense his shock at the fact that Hotch was the one to go straight for lethality.

And your reaction - that was what kept him awake at night. Not killing the suspect; it was a sick truth, but he’d killed far too many people by now to have that same nauseous, horrified reaction he did the first few times. No, it was the way you looked at him afterwards. He’d expected shock, panic - hell, even complete disgust - but you’d looked at him like he was your hero. Like he was good, somehow. And he’d wanted to correct every day since, say, “No, you’ve got me wrong, I’m not what you think I am,” but he hadn’t mustered up the courage. He’d grown to need that look, if he was being honest with himself; needed someone to gaze upon him with the admiration and respect and doe-eyed awe that you did, because sometimes it was the only thing that kept him from going home alone to his apartment and shattering every mirror in the fucking place so he didn’t have to look at his reflection.

So when you’d asked him - all flushed face and halting words and twisting fingers - why he’d acted the way he did, he couldn’t be truthful with you. He’d answered with what should’ve been the truth, because he couldn’t tell you that he’d wanted to kick that boy’s teeth in from the minute he saw him touch you for daring to defile something so innocent and pure and good, even if you’d wanted it. Especially if you’d wanted it, if he was being honest with himself.

This was all twisted, of course. There were a million ways to profile a man in his 50’s who thought the way he did about someone your age (not to mention his employee, for fuck’s sake), none of them good. He’d deserved the raised eyebrow Rossi gave him before he stalked off to drag you from the dancefloor, and he’d more than deserved the constant, chiding internal voice scolding him whenever he paid too much attention to you, asked you an easy question just so he could see you light up at knowing the answer, divulged information he hadn’t talked about with anyone in years.

He saw how much his words affected you. You’d tried to hide it, but you were so endearingly bad at masking your feelings, and even though his stomach twisted to see you crushed, he felt a twinge of hope knowing you’d wanted a different answer. He could’ve given you one that would have made you happier:

“You’re important to me.”

“I was worried about you.”

Even, “I wanted to spend time with you last night, instead.”

But those were all too adjacent to a truth that he starkly refused to consider.

So he let you down, because letting people down was something with which Aaron Hotchner had plenty of goddamn practice. 

[calpops]

falling facade | c.h.

part seven: falling forces

part one: falling flowers | part two: falling freedom | part three: falling fears | part four: falling failures | part five: falling fame | part six: falling feelings

5k words

Copyright © 2020 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

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Radio silence ensued between Calum and Arden for days after their parents left. Days of quiet left Calum’s admission floating in tense air and burning the back of his throat; the words taunting him among lonely days. She didn’t respond to his texts and she didn’t answer his calls, Michael wasn’t a mediator he wanted to use as the truth he offered her was one he didn’t want Michael to know. So he stopped texting and calling, decided to wait and try to play it cool though contractual commitments and management looming over him created more anxiety. Arden couldn’t opt out of paparazzi walks, they had to make posts and keep playing the game. After nearly a week Calum decided to head over to Michael’s and face her in person only to be met with confusion.

“She’s packing,” Michael informed as soon as Calum showed up; he didn’t even need to say a word for Michael to know he was in search of her.

“She’s leaving?” He asked and couldn’t keep the panic from his voice.

Michael was quick to catch it and though he may not have understood why he was so worked up he moved aside from the door and invited him in. He told him Arden ought to be the one to explain and sent him down the hall to one of many guest bedrooms. The door was closed but Calum heard footsteps moving about and rapped his knuckles lightly against the wood. A pause in motion ensued and Calum knew she was contemplating either opening the door or calling out to come in or go away. He hadn’t told her he was stopping by and he assumed her usual response to Michael would be something of the sort. Steps approached and the door swung open, Arden standing shocked and uncertain before Calum.

A suitcase laid on the bed with stacks of clothes inside, proving Michael’s statement to be correct. Calum knew Michael wouldn’t lie about that but the evidence was jolting and hard to swallow. Arden held a shoe in her hand and grasped the doorknob with the other, knees knocking into each other as her legs began to wiggle amidst the uncomfortable silence they were standing in.

“What are you doing here?” She asked after a stretch of silence. Her eyes flickered up and down Calum in her curiosity.

“You’re leaving?” He answered with a question and a sinking stomach. “You know we have a paparazzi walk scheduled for tomorrow.”

The burn in the back of Calum’s throat was flickering to life, words said and unsaid dancing on the tip of his tongue. Instead of telling her he wanted her to stay he reminded her she was obligated to. Instead of reminding her of what was and what could be real he reminded her of what was constructed and fake. He resented the words as soon as they rolled off his tongue and wished he could go back; say the right thing and be honest.

“I’ll be there,” she said and turned back to the bed and suitcase to drop the shoe haphazardly within. Calum followed her into the room, the days of silence and her curt answer doing very little to explain what was happening between them. His own foolish words didn’t help the matter either. “At noon, right?”

Calum nodded. “Arden, is everything okay?”

Calum really wanted to know if everything was okay between them but the words were caught in a fiery embrace and couldn’t escape. She turned back to look at him, hand blindly finding the edge of the suitcase to grip. She nodded this time but the nod slowly faded and pursed lips and downcast eyes replaced it.

“It’s fine. I just need to get out of this house,” she admitted and shook her head. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just need to get out of Michael’s hair. Stand on my own two feet. I got a job. Found a little place. It’s not much but it’s liveable seeing how I’ll be here a while.”

Words of being in Michael’s shadow and not having life figured out, not having a passion or pride floated through Calum’s mind. Suddenly her silence made sense.

“You could’ve told me,” Calum said and reached a hand out, almost certain she’d flinch or reject the gesture, but in her ever consistent way of surprise she leaned into the touch and nodded again.

“I know,” she began and shrugged. “But I wanted to do it on my own. I had to do it on my own. For myself.”

In a way Calum understood the sentiment of her words but couldn’t quite grasp why she couldn’t even pick up a call or return a text. A spiral of doubt and intrusive thoughts tumbled through and had his hand dropping from her arm, the loss of contact cool on his fingers tips and tightening his throat. Arden shifted and sighed, disappointment seemingly hanging over her head and escaping in her every motion. Calum shook himself, pushed his selfishness away and realized the situation for what it really was. Arden may not be chasing a dream but she was running after something.

“I’m proud of you.”

She looked up suddenly, inquisitive glance trying to figure out the simple sentence packed with meaning. A faint blush danced across her cheeks and calmed the doubts that once plagued Calum. She still reacted innately to him; leaned into his touches, knocked her knees together and blushed at compliments all while holding eye contact. Things were changing but what was real would always stay the same.

“It’s nothing, really,” she responded but the bite of a smile betrayed her humble statement and showed Calum his words were well received.

“I know you had to do it on your own but what about some help packing and unpacking? I can lift,” Calum offered and smirked as her gaze went to his biceps for just a fleeting moment. “Got anything heavy?”

Arden laughed and gestured to an already packed suitcase sat on the floor; one without wheels and that was stuffed to the brim. “Be my guest.”

***

Arden’s place was small but cozy by the time it was all set up. They spent all day bringing her things over and unpacking, adjusting the furniture that came with the apartment and running out to get a few necessities. It was late by the time they were done, takeout containers littered the small counter space and exhausted bodies crashed into the overly stuffed couch. There was still a lingering awkwardness that dwelled between them in Calum’s truth and Arden’s silence. Especially when there were no more tasks to keep them busy or food to keep their mouths full and provide an excuse not to talk. Calum yawned and stretched under the glare of light from the television static—they hadn’t figured out how to get channels but Arden didn’t mind. Calum would guess the moon was out but the very few windows were too small and awkwardly placed to see much of the night sky.

“I guess I should get going,” Calum mumbled and moved to stand from the couch. Arden’s hesitant touch stopped him short. She was unsure as her hand lightly settled on his forearm.

“It’s really late, you could stay,” she said and furrowed her brows before getting out a rushed, “if you want.”

Her offer surprised him, stunned him into his own silence and stalled any motion. They hadn’t spent a night together since Vegas provided allure of lights and drinks that wound up with them tangled in the same sheets as morning broke over the city. He remembered the panic that morning brought, the haze being demolished by the glint of the ring he had come to almost admire on her finger. It took him a few seconds to decide, to weigh the situation and realize he’d like a new morning with her. Something less panicked and nauseated, something like the naps they took on his couch together. Where they could wake up with ease. Even if Calum would have to crash on the small couch.

“I’ll stay,” he said with a decisive head nod and watched the smile slowly lift the corners of her mouth. Hazel went humble and a bit shy but stayed on him nonetheless as she stood and tilted her head to the only bedroom. “I can sleep here, on the couch, that’s fine.”

Arden waved her hand through the air and let out a small noise Calum might peg as a scoff. “You’d be crunched in on yourself. Besides, it’s not like you haven’t been in my bed before.”

Calum felt heat rise to his cheeks at the reminder of something he was already thinking about. He felt caught but laughed through it. “Right, Vegas.”

She threw him a look he couldn’t quite decipher and followed her to the room they had spent all day setting up. The mattress was still on the floor until a bed frame could be delivered but soft sheets and a pile of inviting pillows welcomed them.

“I was actually talking about when we were kids and you’d spend the night while I was away and I'd come back to you in my bed,” she said as she wandered to the closet and disappeared behind the door for a moment before emerging in a large shirt and small shorts. She was clearly dressed for bed and Calum stood in athletic shorts and a T-shirt from the previous day. “But there was also Vegas.”

Calum clapped a hand to the back of his neck where his palm and fingers were met with warmth. He was blushing all over at the reminder of memories he had forgotten. He blew out a breath as her knees hit the mattress and she pulled the covers back, an inviting pat to the comforter having Calum do the same.

“It was either your bed or the floor,” Calum defended and bit his lip. “Hope you didn’t mind.”

Arden smirked and slightly shook her head as she settled into bed, Calum was a bit stiff and awkward as he tried to do the same. The thought of Vegas was enough to make him settle at the edge; arm nearly falling off as he left little space between him and the floor. Whispers of reasons why this was wrong floated through his mind but they were quickly drowned out when Arden giggled and pulled him toward her with a small remark of him falling off and really sleeping on the floor. He rolled to his side, saw she had done the same and they were facing each other. A gap laid between them and though there was a want to close the distance he was also content to keep things the way they were.

“You don’t think we”—Arden began as she tucked loose hair behind her ear and slightly shifted—“did anything that night in Vegas, do you?”

She finally asked the question that had been continuously reappearing in Calum’s own mind. The only thing he could remember and be one hundred percent certain of was the kiss on the dancefloor and holding her close in the pool after hours. All else was a blur. But the way they woke up; with underclothes still on and rumpled as if from a full night of sleep, helped to paint a picture of what he thought could be.

“I don’t think so,” he confirmed. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.”

He couldn’t see a blush on Arden’s face but could imagine the rosy cheeks his words may have inspired. There was minimal light through a small slat of window up high on the wall. It wasn’t like in Calum’s living room where floor to ceiling windows painted her under sun or moonlight. This was more confined. The bed brought them closer than a sectional. It was more intimate. He could hear her breaths, could feel every shift in the mattress and map out every minuscule inch between them. He had thoughts of Vegas in his mind which brought tumbling woes of tomorrow barreling through as well. Another stunt loomed on the horizon. He didn’t know how his new truth being told would impact them in the face of the facade.

Arden yawned and burrowed under her covers just a bit more, pulling the blankets up under her chin and Calum could picture her eyes fluttering closed. He did the same, tried to get comfortable and it wasn’t for the lack of comfort the bed provided but the uncertainties of tomorrow that kept him stiff. Time passed in a blur, it wasn’t until Arden’s breathing was even and she had moved a bit closer that Calum began to relax and let himself fall asleep—though it was interrupted and constantly shifting.

By morning they woke in a familiar way. With Calum’s arm wound around Arden and her cheek pressed to his chest. Neither said anything as they pulled apart and vacated the bed. Only small smiles and lingering gazes back at each other brought them back to the reality of what the day had planned. They left Arden’s place once she was ready so that Calum could change his clothes and check on Duke; his friend had taken care of him for the night but a stop to say hello and make sure he was set for the day was needed. Arden took Duke out as Calum changed and a sense of normalcy and a craving for days like these befell Calum in an urgent way. If it weren’t for the silence on Arden’s end and alarm bells fleetingly ringing in his mind Calum may have had hope that this could be a new normal.

All too soon that normalcy was shattered when they had to leave for another stunt. The fake always caught up with them; the game was always in motion and distinguishing between realities was becoming increasingly more difficult. They found themselves in another familiar position, eyeing paparazzi out of the windshield of Calum’s car as Arden hesitated. Her fingers wound around the seatbelt and held it tight, white knuckles and a hazy gaze telling of how much she did not want to go. She let out a small huff and turned to Calum with pursed lips and a dropping hand. It landed on her thigh and made no move for the door handle.

“Did you mean it?” She asked and caught Calum off guard, made him nearly jump at the sudden question with no previous context. When Calum’s confusion was evident she further expanded. “What you said when our parents were here. Did you really mean it? It’s not all fake?”  

Calum nodded without even having to further process the question. “Of course I meant it.”

“Then why haven’t you said anything else?”

Now Calum furrowed his brows. “I guess I was waiting for you.”

He didn’t want to push and he didn’t want to assume or make her feel obligated to reciprocate. He took her silence as uncertainty and she took his waiting for her to mean the same. He now realized that what he said could be open ended and not answer the questions that might have been tumbling through Arden’s mind.

Arden shrank back in her seat and let her shoulders slump. She blew out a breath and a tendril of hair went with it, an urge to tuck it back behind her ear coursed through him and won. He reached over and gently did so, fingertips trailing and reveling in the moment and the contact. Her hand came up to capture his, brought it down to the console and rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand; it was as if the movement was her contemplation and mind rushing back and forth.

“Sometimes it’s hard to know what’s real and it’s even harder to know what you think is real too,” she admitted and glanced away, bit her lip and stopped the motion of her thumb. It took a moment before she could look at him again. “What moments did you mean? What did you feel was real?”

Calum softened and squeezed her hand, pushed the thought of paparazzi lingering outside to the back of his mind and focused in on her and the memories they had cultivated in just a couple of months.

“The night of the party. The road trip and everything that happened in Vegas”—Arden arched an eyebrow and Calum quickly reconsidered his words—“kissing you on the dance floor, sneaking into the pool, waking up together. When you stood up for us to management. Dates at the diner. Napping on the couch with Duke. Afternoons in the pool. Sunset on the beach. Being proud of you for opening up and finding a path to follow while you figure out where to go to chase your dreams. All of that is real to me.”

Arden went quiet but Calum felt as if he could hear her thoughts out loud—he just couldn’t make sense of them. It felt as if she was thinking in another language, in a way he couldn’t quite understand, but desperately wanted to. He didn’t want her to stay silent again. He laid his cards on the table now it was her turn to show her hand. Whether it was what Calum wanted to see or not.

“That’s all real to me too.”

Calum let out a breath of relief followed by a small and dry laugh, unable to bite back the bubble of hysteria that had worked its way into him. Arden pushed closer, closing some of the minimal distance and reminding Calum of how much he missed peaches and sugar. He licked his lips, dipped his down just a bit.

“Can I kiss you again?” He asked, and suddenly that breath of relief felt fleeting; he felt utterly breathless as he stared into hazel.

She averted her gaze and pulled back, a sinking feeling consuming Calum. He thought it was real.

“Not here,” she explained and looked out to the paparazzi waiting mindlessly on the curb. “Not while we have to do this.”

Calum understood; no words were needed to define this. Crossing lines of real and fake would only make things more hazy. When the moment was right, when everything around them was real, he would ask again. Arden took a breath and flung the car door open, leaving little time for Calum to think further or get too intoxicated by the scent of peaches. He followed her, wrapped her in an embrace to keep the cameras off of her as much as possible and strolled into the cafe as cameras snapped in their faces. While in line he thought less about what the headlines would say, thought more about what they might do for a real moment once the cameras were gone and if it might lead to something sugary sweet.

This stunt was different, management wanted more photos and more affection, something to splash across pages of a magazine and keep fans attention apt. It was the build up before the breakdown. They would have more intense stunts like this before the inevitable drifting phase and while that stage of the stunt already had a harrowing grip on Calum he tried not to think about it. He was okay with living in the moment and unraveling more of Arden.

The line moved fast and their orders came in quickly and they situated themselves at an outdoor table where the paparazzi positioned themselves at a slight distance to make the photos appear off guard. Sunglasses disguised Arden once more and a tilted laminated menu helped to hide her even more. Calum dipped behind it as well, imaginations welcome to run wild at the hidden shots.

“You know,” Calum started and smirked. “You didn’t tell me what your new job is.”

Arden tilted her head and leaned in, whispering words so they could stay between only them. “I can show you, after we get out of here.”

Calum nodded with enthusiasm as he was excited to see another real side to Arden; to show his pride for her accomplishment and maybe, just maybe, get another kiss. In the meantime he humored the paparazzi as they ate, flung an arm around her and played up all the aspects that management was seeking. Arden fed into it and it almost felt like making a mockery of the demand. Over dramatized affection and longing gazes, bashful and playful hiding behind menus and pretending the cameras didn’t exist helped bring them through their lunch with as little actual interaction with them as possible. Once the food was finished and Calum was certain they had gotten plenty of shots he pushed out his chair and stood; offered his hand to Arden and tucked her back into his side.

“That’s enough for today,” he said in a low voice as they walked away, never wanting to give them any more of Arden than was necessary.

Although, Calum had to admit the way they were acting was not them and it felt like a victory to pretend on their own terms. Whether or not it would fool the masses and appease management was up in the air. Their over the top performance kept the paparazzi at bay and from spewing comments to incite reactions or ask questions they wouldn’t want to answer. They fed off of actions, a picture sometimes worth so much more than words. Photos were flashy and attention grabbing. Words fell flat when they were practiced.

Back in the car Arden took Calum’s hand as soon as the cameras were put away. Out of sight, out of her mind and back to being real and okay. Her fingers laced with his and their hands rested on the inner console. Neither said anything about it; all that was said was directions to Arden’s job and questions about it that she danced around with giggles and an emphatic you’ll see.  

“Right here,” she said and pointed to a stone building with one large window and a glass door dominating the front. A flashy sign hung above the glass and Calum immediately smiled when he read it and pulled up to the curb beside the building.

“An art gallery?” He asked and remembered the discussion when they were sat in the grass about art only being a hobby and not a passion. “Don’t tell me you bought an entire gallery and filled it but I still don’t have one painting from you.”

Arden lightheartedly rolled her eyes at his comment as she unbuckled and Calum followed suit, wandered after her as she got out of the car and waved for him to peek inside the closed gallery.

“It’s not my gallery. I’m just a coordinator,” she explained as Calum took a look through the window to dim lighting and art hanging on stone walls—none of which he understood as well as Arden’s. “Who knew all it took was half a degree, an art history course and “good eye” to get a decent job. Well… that and maybe using Michael as a reference helped a bit.”

Calum’s hand found its way to the small of her back without thinking. She was still looking through the window and had come to bite her lip at the admission of using Michael’s name. Calum could tell it wasn’t something she wanted to do; still seeking to step away from his shadow and all. He thought quickly.

“It was all you,” he said and gently rubbed a circle into her soft skin as she gazed at him in question. “You got the job on your own merit. Michael’s name doesn’t hold any weight in the art world. Not this art world anyway.”

“You think?”

The question was genuine and the concern in her eyes spoke volumes to the authenticity of her character. She didn’t want to be a social climber. She didn’t want to use what little light got cast into Michael’s shadow to give her a step up. Calum couldn’t hold back the smile that overtook him or the need to move closer to her. She reciprocated and welcomed his embrace; hand moving to wrap around her waist as he stood behind her and ducked his chin down to the crook of her shoulder.

“I’m sure of it and I’m proud of you.”

Calum could feel the blush that heated up Arden and heard the slight choked up noise that slipped past her resolve. He didn’t know how long she had gone without hearing those words for something she actually felt pride for. Her hands found his and she titled her face towards his. She was so close, peaches and sugar once again invasive in the best of ways.

“I just figured if I don’t know what my own dream is yet I may as well help other people achieve theirs,” she said in a whisper and her lips nearly brushed along Calum’s cheek like so many thank you’s she had previously graced him with.

Calum warmed at her explanation and inched just a bit closer, felt her turn and welcomed her into his hold properly as he adjusted to accommodate. Her chin tilted up and her eyelashes fluttered as a quiet calm blissfully danced around them. Calum was hyper aware of his own heartbeat, could feel it in his throat and his ribs and the pit of his stomach. He wondered if she could hear it, if her heart was beating as erratically and wondrously as his. She licked her lips and the rest of the world faded away into muted colors. His breath hitched in throat.

“Now,” she whispered and let her eyes fully close as Calum leaned in.

It was soft and reminiscent of the dance floor at first. Just a tender touch that lingered for a beautiful moment. They both slightly pulled away but only enough to take one small breath before reconnecting. It was explosive and sent chills up Calum’s spine. His tongue swept at her lower lip and she invited him in, greedy hands sought out more of each other with a press of their bodies. Calum was fiery and floating, breathless and rejuvenated once they pulled away. Her eyes stayed closed a moment before fluttering open and softly meeting his gaze. Though there was the faint sound of bells ringing through Calum’s mind they were drowned out in favor of his heart beat and the small breaths that escaped Arden.

“I know you just got your new place set up but do you want to head back to mine?” Calum asked and waited with bated breath and hope on his heart and sleeve. “Duke misses you, you know.”

“Oh does he?”

Calum nodded with a cheeky grin and gave her a small peck on the cheek. “He does. Told me this morning.”

“How could I ever refuse then?” She questioned with sparkling eyes and a crooked smile as they started back for the car with hands held. “And you know Micheal won’t be waiting up for me anymore either.”

Calum stopped dead in his tracks and so did Arden consequently. Those bells came back as a blaring alarm.

“Michael’s gonna kill me,” Calum said with volition; as if it was a known fact. He rubbed at his jaw with his free hand and let worry crease his forehead. “Soon as he finds out we’re real that’ll be the end.”

Arden’s eyes went wide and Calum knew in that moment the warning bells had caught up to her. Her hand dropped from his and went unsurely to the hem of her shirt with a loose grip. Her knees knocked together and she shook her head. He could tell she was trying to think it through. He hoped he hadn’t scared her into not pursuing a real relationship. Michael was just another obstacle they would have to go around.

“Maybe we don’t need to tell him?” Calum asked with a wavering voice and not much faith; a bite of guilt already eating at him at the prospect of omitting such a big truth from his best friend.

“What Michael doesn’t know”—she said as she came back from the warning alarm and opened the car’s passenger door—“won’t kill you.”

Before she could get in the car Calum stopped her short and shook his head as he weighed the situation and his request. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

People passed by on the sidewalk as Arden took an extra moment to contemplate. Calum reached for her hand again and felt an ache in his chest ease up when she squeezed back.

“I mean, I did ask you to lie to your family,” she began and took a step toward him, the door shutting behind her. “And we will tell them all the truth eventually. Right now, we still have a lot to figure out between us. It’s probably best that it stays just between us. We don’t need more outside forces trying to call the shots.”

Calum knew that to be true, there was still a lot up in the air between them. It was real but it was still laden with questions and undefined. With a loose hold on her hand he pulled her closer and pressed a shy kiss to her forehead.

“Just until we figure it all out,” he agreed.

“Can we head to your place now? I miss Duke,” Arden agreed and teased.

Calum decided to ignore everything except the way she lit him up and made him feel like he was floating. To focus only on her and what was best for them. Nothing else mattered. Not Michael. Not management. Not questions and labels yet to be discussed. What they knew was that it was real and something more than a contract could define. All of the falling forces lingering around them didn’t hold half a flame to the importance of each other.

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Tagged: @rosecolouredash​ @irwinkitten​ @golden-hood @who-do-you-love-5sos​ @caswinchester2000​ @wildflowergrae​ @empathycth​ @cuddlemcalx @malumsmermaid​ @babylon-corgis​ @outerspaceisbetterthannothing​ @mariellelovescupcakes​ @xhaileyreneex​ @goth5sos​ @gosh-im-short​ @feliznavidaddycal​ @loveroflrh​ @findingliam-o​ @flowerthug​ @g-l-pierce​ @talkfastromance4​ @cashtonasfuck​ @sc0ttish-wildfl0wer​ @wastedheartcth​ @calumscalm​ @notinthesameguey​ @lukesfuckingbeard​ @myloverboyash​ @treatallwithkindness​ @haikucal​ @wiildflower-xxx​ @calum-uncrowned @egyptiangoldhood​ @drarryetcetera​ @another-lonely-heart​ @megz1985​ @idk-harry​ @dinosaursandsocks​ @wildflower-cth​ @idontneedanyone​ @everyscarisahealingplace​ @myfavfanficsever​ @stormrider505​ @karajaynetoday​ @333-xx​ @calumshpod​ @calumsphile​ @calumrose​ @justhereforcalum​ @grreatgooglymoogly​ @mantlereid @hemmingslftv​ @sltwins​ @queenalinescherrypie @emilyma​ @zhangyixingxing1​