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stevesharrlngtons · 4 years ago

Text

picking out the stitches.

roman godfrey x reader

summary: after letha’s death; peter’s departure; shelley’s disappearance; and a brutal fight with subsequent break up with roman; you escape to the empire state for college and a fresh start. though, after thinking you have been given the space to move on with your life, your father’s unexpected death sends you back to hemlock grove. there, you are forced to confront the reason for your pained departure.

word count: 14.1k (oopies)

warning: mentions of an abusive father

a/n: this is a long bitch, with a possible part two (?) if this is enjoyed by you all! (: i hope the length of this makes up for it taking so long lol. also prob ooc roman bc i love him just being soft

please if you read this and like it, know that feedback is greatly appreciated and i’d love to hear any thoughts you have!! also im bad at editing

Tuna, turkey and swiss, BLT.

No option offered sounded particularly tasty. You had come in search of egg salad sandwich, a surprising delicacy from the Hemlock Grove Grocery Deli that you had been craving since your departure months ago. It felt like comfort food, a way to make being back in town bearable.

But the stockboys seemed to be sending you a message: there was no good reason to be back in town, and no sandwich was going to remedy your pain.

“(Y/N)?”

You flinched at the sound of your name as sweat prickled the back of your neck. The last fucking thing you wanted was to be recognized the second you got back into town. Being forced to interact with any of the waspy bitches or rednecks that attended your high school, especially now, seemed like a personal affront punishable with only your meanest of glares and most backhanded of compliments.

But, who you found had called your name was not only a surprise, but a pleasant one. Not a bitch or mouth breather in sight.

“Peter?” Your eyebrows perked up as you said his name, no doubt unable to hide your complete shock at his sudden appearance.

“In the flesh.” He smiled. That same boyish smile that he always gave especially when you needed to see it.

Your body worked on it’s own violation as you shot yourself at him, wrapping him in a tight hug. He thankfully returned the gesture, gripping the fabric of your dress in his fingers to keep you close. Peter pressed his nose to your temple and you buried yourself deep into the crook of his neck. It wasn’t until a voice cleared behind you that the two of you pulled apart.

“Excuse me,” A man holding a wire basket interpreted, seeming less than pleased to have been forced to witness your reunion.

“Sure, after you, sir.” Peter said, theatrically waving the man past.

“Stupid fucker, couldn’t even go through another aisle.” He watched the man leave with a scowl.

“Shut up about inconiquestional people and tell me what the hell you’re doing back in town!” You said with a wide smile while slapping his chest playfully.

“I think that’s a better question suited for me to you, don’t you think? Last I heard you fucked off to N-Y-C.” Peter said, leaning against the display of sandwiches.

“Yeah? And who told you that?”

“Destiny.”

You smirked and rested your shoulder against the display, “She’s got a big mouth.”

“Big mouth? Who cares if she does! New York is a big deal. NYU, even bigger.”

You roll your eyes at the compliment.

“Hey, no, I’m serious! You always were the scholar out of us. Fucking valedictorian while Roman and I barely managed C’s.” He continued.

At the mention of Roman, you sucked in a sharp breath through your nose, eyes breaking from Peter’s only long enough for him to see your pain at his name.

“You still haven't answered my question, you know?” You said, trying to seamlessly change the subject, fiddling with the ends of your hair to keep your hands busy.

“Yeah, well, it isn’t a happy answer.”

“Enlighten me anyway.”

Peter gives a heaving sigh, a signature of his, “Lynda got pinched for some shit and was transferred out here... I followed.”

Your heart sank. Lynda had always been exponentially kind and understanding. To you, Shelley and even Roman.

“Shit, Peter. I’m so sorry. How’re you holding up?” You placed a comforting hand on his forearm.

“As well as I can given the circumstances. I’m staying with D, so at least that’s good.” He gives a forced smile.

“I’m glad you’re with family at a time like this.” You drop your hand and slouch against the display, matching his relaxed posture.

There was a brief pause between the two of you, before Peter spoke again.

“Usually, when one party enlightens the other, they are obligated to do the same.” He leans in ever so slightly to emphasize his point.

“That is usually the deal, yes.”

“So?”

“My dad croaked a few days ago. Heart attack.”

“Holy shit, (Y/N/N),” Peter interrupted, face falling into a concerned frown.

“No, no. It’s fine. He was a piece of shit,” You shrug.

“Still, he was your dad.”

“Yeah, he was my dad who hit me and my mom and loved booze more than either of us.”

“He still was your dad, (Y/N).” He reiterated.

You purse your lips and sigh.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I have to be all fucking weepy about the whole thing.” You say, grabbing a turkey and swiss from the display and pushing off to walk toward the register.

“No one said you had to be,” Peter appealed as he followed behind you, “But don’t let everything get all clogged up in there.”

He motioned to his chest and you roll your eyes, setting your sandwich on the conveyor belt for the cashier.

“I promise you, the moment he is six feet under I will let all my emotions out. Mainly rejoice and relief.” You sent Peter a smile as your sandwich rang up.

“Four forty, even.”

You reach into your purse, but Peter beats you to it. He hands the cashier a crumpled up five dollar bill.

You give him a glare, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did. It’s gonna be my lunch too.” He snatched the sandwich from the bagging area and saunters to the exit, leaving you to gather the nickels and dimes.

Parked in a gravel parking lot looking over the lake, you and Peter sat in the cab of his tow truck. Both eating a half of the mediocre turkey and swiss while sharing a warm cherry Coke from the center console in silence. After a brief session of catch up on your lives over the past few months, you were both happy enough to just sit quietly in each other's company. Simply enjoying the comfort of being in the presence of someone you love.

“You ever hear from him?” Peter spoke up, mouth full of bread and slimy meat.

“Who?” You at least have the decency to cover your mouth as you spoke.

“You know who. Don’t make me say his name, you got all squirly last time.”

You sighed as you finish chewing the food in your mouth, savoring what you could of the cheap flavors as you avoided Peter’s gaze. Once you swallowed, you took a long gulp from the Coke can before answering.

“No. He’s been out of my life since that night. Really prefer to keep it that way, too.” You replied clippedly, not wanting to talk about him any more than necessary.

Peter belows a raspberry in response.

You looked over to glare at him, “What?”

“I just find that hard to believe.”

“That I don’t want to see the man who broke my heart?” You snap.

“No, that Roman has been able to keep his distance from you.”

“I thought we weren’t saying his name.” You abruptly look away and out the windshield once more.

“Apologies.”

“You don’t have to sound so sincere about it.” You scoff.

“What happened between you two, anyway? Before I left I could practically hear wedding bells.”

“Destiny didn’t tell you?” You press your lips together firmly, hoping Destiny had just made up a lie on your behalf to tell her cousin.

“All she said was that you and Roman supposedly got into this huge fight and you left a few days after. Nothing more, nothing less.” He explained.

“Yeah, well huge fight is an understatement.”

“Then what happened?”

You sigh deeply, reclining against the headrest and wrapping your arms around your middle for some misplaced search for security.

“It happened a few days after you skipped town. It was his birthday…”

Music echoed around you as you placed gentle kisses along the expanse of Roman’s neck. You ran your fingers through his hair gently, collecting grease and pomade on your fingertips and under your nails as you did. He had an arm securing you tightly to his side, the other had been holding you too, but he had retrieved it to light a cigarette.

After the traumatic week you two had undergone, you didn’t fight Roman much when he insisted all he wanted to do for his eighteenth birthday was drink, watch a movie and have you sleep over. You were happy he at least let you buy him a cupcake to commemorate the day, but wouldn’t see to any more festivities. He told you that now more than ever wasn’t a time to be merry. You didn’t blame him, no matter how much you wanted to celebrate him today.

So, you let him share his birthday cupcake with you in the bottom of an empty swimming pool and hold you in an uncomfortable lounge chair for as long as he wanted. Fortunately, this was as calm as you’d seen him in days and you hoped that continued; at least until midnight.

Roman lulled his head on top of yours and placed his hand on your hip, making sure every part of you that could be touching was.

The sound of a door opening resounded in the distance and the distinct tap of heels on tile followed. You felt Roman deflate next to you as you both recognized who the sound belonged to.

In sauntered Olivia, in a beautiful floor length gown with a sparkler in hand, painting patterns in the dark with the fire illuminating her wicked smile.

“Happy Birthday, my darling.” She chimed, looking down at the both of you.

You and Roman both shifted under her unwelcome gaze, neither responding. You turned further into Roman’s neck and you felt his fingers press harder into the flesh of your hip.

“It can’t be a party with just the two of you, can it?” Olivia said, dropping the sparkler to lay by her side.

“Well, three’s a crowd. So if you’ll excuse us.” Roman waved his hand that held his cigarette dismissively.

“One is the loneliest number, but two can be just as bad.” Olivia replied in a musical lit.

Again, neither of you respond. You busy yourself fiddling with the collar of Roman’s tank top.

“(Y/N), darling, you do look beautiful tonight.” She turns her attention to you after the silence she received. Something Olivia knew Roman disapproved of her doing.

“Thank you, Mrs. Godfrey.” You reply politely, glancing at her briefly before going back to Roman’s shirt.

“Is that the dress Roman bought you some time back? I remember hearing you tell Shelley about it over dinner.” Olivia continued.

“What is it that you want, again?” Roman snapped, making you flinch at his volume increase.

“I have a surprise for you. In the attic.” She gestured using what’s left of the dying sparkler at the ceiling.

“Can’t it wait?” Roman said, wholly disinterested.

“No, it cannot, Roman. It is your birthday surprise and I would like to give it to you now.” Her voice became more stern by the word.

Roman moves to look at you and you do the same. His eyes are inviting you to a conversation Olivia isn’t privy too. An almost psychic communication you’ve had together since the day you first met.

Do we go with her? Or wait her out until she leaves?

Just see what she wants. Once she’s shown you we can get back to doing whatever you want.

Roman pursed his lips before letting out a dramatic sigh, “Fine.”

He got up from the chair before offering you his hand to help you up.

Olivia watched as you both climb the ladder out of the empty pool and onto the landing.

“Let’s get this over with.” Roman gave his mother a firm glare.

He placed a hand on the small of your back and started for the door when Olivia stopped him.

“I’m afraid, this gift is for Godfrey eyes only.” She looked at you with weakly masked distaste.

You felt Roman’s fingers once again probe into your skin, “She is a Godfrey.”

“Not in name or blood.”

“But she will be so it doesn’t matter.” Roman retorted, harshly.

This wasn’t the first time he had alluded to your future together, and at the time, you didn’t think it would be the last.

“Well, she isn’t yet, is she? When she is, then she will be welcome to engage in all Godfrey birthday present exchanges.” Olivia sneered.

“There is nothing you could show me that she can’t-” You placed a gentle hand on Roman’s chest before he could continue.

This fight certainly wasn’t worth it. Especially not over a fucking birthday present.

“It’s fine. I’ll wait in your room.” You offered.

“Off the premise.” Olivia chimed in curtly.

“Excuse me?” Roman spat.

“(Y/N) can go home and see you tomorrow. This gift needs much explanation and discussion.”

“This is beyond fucking ridiculous!”

“Ro, it’s OK. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You smile up at him.

You didn’t want to leave him. Not now, not ever, but never with Olivia.

“I’ll see you later tonight.” Roman stressed.

“Tomorrow would be-”

“Let’s just call it a see-you-soon, then?” You cut off Olivia, never taking your eyes off Roman.

He just tightens his jaw, so tight you’re afraid he might crack a filling. But he nods.

“Fine. I’ll call you.” He says. And he says it with such sincerity that you know without a doubt he will, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He kisses your forehead and you kiss his cheek, not overly keen on giving him the proper goodbye kiss you wanted to infront of Olivia. As you walk away, you spare Olivia a last glance and the look on her smug face is one so self satisfied it made your stomach churn.

Roman never called you that night, or even the next morning. The calls you gave him were left unanswered; texts and voicemails the same.

You would have called Peter, Shelley or Letha to see if they’d heard from Roman at a time like this, but all were depressingly dead ends.

Under the circumstances that you left under the night before, you took it upon yourself to drive to the Godfrey residence and find out what the hell was going on yourself. You didn’t trust Olivia as far as you could throw her, and you didn’t put any heinous act past her.

Your worry beat out any common sense you had to stay away and wait for Roman to come to you.

When you arrived and knocked on the door, several times to be exact, it seemed no one was home. Though, both cars were in the driveway and you knew neither Roman or Olivia would take a cab anywhere. With balled fists you slammed against the wood of the door, kicking your foot against it as well for good measure. You had been in your knocking rhythm so long, when the door finally opened you stumbled forward.

You caught yourself on the knob and looked up to see who answered.

Roman stood above you with expressionless features and down turned lips.

“What?” He asked.

“Don’t ‘what’ me! ‘What’ you! You never called and you haven’t been answering.” You said, straightening yourself out.

“You’re not my fucking keeper,” Roman scoffed and turned his back to walk down the hallway.

Your face screwed up in confusion as you stepped over the threshold into the mansion and slammed the door, then followed him through the house.

“Excuse me? What is up with you?” You exclaimed.

Roman had stopped in the kitchen, rummaging through the refrigerator while trying his best to seem unbothered with tense shoulders.

“Nothing is up. I just didn’t want to call you.” He spoke into the crisper drawer.

“Since when?”

“Since now.”

“What the fuck did Olivia show you? Must have been really messed up for you to be acting like this.” You let a humorless laugh through your nose.

“Or maybe I was just happy to be rid of you and now that you’re back, I am pissed.” He slammed the door to the fridge, its contents rattling inside.

Your surprised expression hadn’t wavered as Roman glared at you, his eyes dull and unfamiliar.

“Ok, so, yesterday you’re talking about marrying me, and today I am some parasite you’re happy to be rid of? Is that right?” You took a step toward him.

“I was never going to marry you, you delusional whore.” His first real hit, chipping away at your weak armour. The armour he had weakened himself with his love and care for years.

“If I’m whore, I’d hate to know what that makes you.” You spat.

“It makes me the fucking billionaire who mistakenly kept around some boring girl with a mediocre cunt.” His second hit.

“Wow. You’re right, Roman. I am a whore, but I must be an idiot too! To stay with such a man who calls my pussy mediocre when he can’t even fuck me right.” You provoked.

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah? Why don’t you? Because for as long as I can remember I’ve been faking my orgasms just to get your pathetic little prick out of me. Is that why you cry after Roman? Because you know about that weak excuse of a dick between your legs?”

You were being cruel and frankly, spinning lies. But he was hurting you and you wanted to hurt him back.

“No, I cry thinking about all the other guys you let between your legs. Maybe that’s why daddy hits you, huh? Hoping that one day he hits you hard enough to rattle that whore brain so hard it kills you? So he won’t have to live with the shame? Or maybe he hopes if he hits you enough you’ll finally drop to your knees and show him that head everyone in town talks about.” The last hit, and the one that broke you.

You close the last few steps between you and strike him as hard as you can muster across the face, cranking Roman’s head to the side with the impact. The slap rings loudly through the room, so do your sniffles.

“How can you be so cruel? How could you ever say that to me?” You scream through tears.

“Just speaking the truth.” Roman said smoothly, his head still rotated.

“What is going on with you? What happened last night?”

“I came to my senses, that’s what happened. I realized that I was sick of wasting all my time on a miserable little bitch when I could be out fucking real women.” He says through gritted teeth, “Real women who don’t need so much tedious validation from me.”

“Are you done?” You snapped, your throat thick with tears.

“With you. Yes.”

You couldn’t think of anything else to say. Malicious words spun in your head, ready to fire off your tongue and tear him apart, but you knew you would never be able to get them out in one piece. You would stutter and sob and shake and it would give Roman even more satisfaction at seeing you crumble. So, you turned on your heel as fast as you could, holding your hand over your mouth to silence your cries and fled the Godfrey home.

“Shee-it.” Peter said, looking sick.

“Shee-it, indeed.” You nod.

“So, that was it?”

“That was it. I was there barely five minutes when it was all said and done… then I went home, cried my stupid eyes out and packed my shit. It was always the plan for me to do online courses and stay here with him, but, y’know, things changed... So, I left.”

“I know that feeling.” Peter says, giving the river a thousand mile stare.

“I know you do. Let’s not forget you abandoned me, too.” You said, far more harshly than intended. The topic of the break up having brought old wounds to the surface.

A pained expression crossed his face, “(Y/N)... Fuck, I’m sorry. I am. I just… after Letha,”

“You don’t have to explain. I’m sorry I snapped. I forgave you the minute you left, for the most part, anyway.” You shrugged.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You sigh and look over at him, “If I had been in your shoes I would have hightailed it the second I could have.”

He offers you a sad smile, “But you needed me, and I left.”

“It’s really OK. Because you’re here now. And it all worked out.”

“New York that good, then?”

“Better than good. I’m alone and broke-.”

“And that’s better than good?” He chuckles.

“Surprisingly, yeah. I’m learning and figuring things out on my own. I’m finding things that make me happy without having to worry about anything else. It’s just nice.” You smile as you speak.

“That makes me happy. Man, it really does. All I ever wanted for you was happiness. I thought I had left you with the silver you had left of it.” Peter says, resting his temple to the head rest.

“You did what you had too and so did I. I’m sure Roman did too, in his own twisted way,” You reply, “I don’t want to focus on the past anymore. I am purley looking forward to the future from now on.”

Peter dropped you off at home after hours of milling around the streets of Hemlock Grove in his truck. You kept asking if he had to go back to work, but he would dismiss your concern each time. Telling you that he was spending time with you and he’d worry about towing later. As much as you knew you should pressure him to take you home, you were happy for the company, especially when that company was Peter.

His reappearance in your life was unexpected, but wholly accepted and appreciated. You didn’t know the next time you’d be able to see him again, so you were going to enjoy his companionship while you had it.

Hopping out of the truck and brushing residual crumbs from the turkey sandwich from your dress, you shut the door. The window rolled down and Peter leaned over the console to look at you.

“Don’t be a stranger.” He smiles at you and you can’t help but return it.

“Never again.”

“If you have time, come by Destiny’s before you head back up north. I know she’d love to have dinner.” He proposes and your smile widens.

“I’d love that, I’ll keep you posted.” You start to back up toward your front door.

“And let me know if you need anything, anything at all. I know losing someone is tough.” His smile falls slightly as the funeral is mentioned again.

You knew Peter was worried about you and he had good intentions, but he didn’t know your father like you did. You were going to this thing for appearances and to make your grandmother happy, if you had had a choice you would have rather stayed at school.

“Got it. Thank you, Peter.”

You wave him off and you watch as he double takes to look at you until he is out of sight, only then did you enter your house.

The house isn’t much and it wasn’t the home you grew up in. When your mother finally left your father, she promptly moved you both into a smaller place on the west side of Hemlock Grove that was better suited for your new family dynamic.

It was a dated burgundy one story, with bland beige carpets and no overhead lighting in the bedrooms, but with two bathrooms. That was helpful down the line when your mother began dating again and her multiple suitors would stay for weeks at a time. You never wanted to be alone with any of them, so that meant crossing the boundary into her room to use the en suite was always out of the question.

Your bedroom was somewhere you always found solace and comfort, even now it felt more like home than anywhere in the world. It had a small excuse of a bay window that looked out over a small and shallow creek. One of your mother’s more involved boyfriends had built you a window bench years before underneath it, upholstered in red velvet. You had run your fingers over the soft fabric so many times, certain places were now rubbed raw and threadbear.

Roman used to sit on your bed while you sat on the bench, reading to him from a litany of novels, some for pleasure and some for assignments. He’d look at you and tell you the light from the window haloed you like an angel. You’d tell him he was just talking out of his ass to get you to stop reading and fool around. Then Roman would smirk and shrug, like he wasn’t sure who was more right. His memory seemed to be etched into every detail of your bedroom, unfortunately.

There was the small heart he had carved into your headboard with an unclicked pen, your initials carved around it. There was your small Ikea vanity, that was stained with nail polish from the time Roman insisted he could do your nails better than you could. There was your closet, just big enough to hold you both inside; where you would steal kisses when you first started to sneak him into your room at night. There was the faded paint on the wall in the shape of a rectangle, where a picture frame of you and Roman at your first homecoming together had once been. There was your fucking duvet cover, that you and Roman would hide underneath on bright mornings. Where he’d hold you and kiss you softly, whispering sweet affections until the muggy air between you became thick and he’d push your noses up over the edge of the blanket to take in giggling gulps of breath.

Roman Godfrey had left painful reminders of himself everywhere. There were too many for you to erase fully. His memory was like a Hydra, repress a recollection of his and two more would pop into your mind in its place.

Now, all the bench held your small suitcase that you had packed early this morning for your short trip down to Pennsylvania. Just some toiletries, a few changes of clothes, a black cocktail dress and a few textbooks. Just because your father died didn’t mean your school work would lighten because of it.

While it wasn’t very late, you had been up early to catch your train and hadn’t expected to be out all day with Peter. You excused your premature exhaustion and decided it was best to take a shower, have a snack and then go to bed. Tomorrow was to no doubt try your nerves, so a full night's rest was likely your best option.

After your shower, you slipped into a pair of pajamas and went down the hall to see if your mother had left you any suitable food. She was still on vacation with her current boyfriend and wouldn’t be able to make it back until Monday, a full day after you were set to leave. So, all you could hope was that there was something edible left in the pantry.

Tussling your damp hair in your hands, you padded through the kitchen to try and make something with the odds and ends your mother had in stock.

As you settled on a half eaten bag of tortilla chips and a jar of salsa, there was a knock at the door. Your mother’s car was missing from the driveway and anyone who would drop by unannounced knew she was out of town. Assuming it was a solicitor or a package delivery, you ignored it and continued on with your pre-bed snack. But the knocking didn’t let up.

Begrudgingly, you made your way to the door in the hopes of shooing off whoever was bothering you. Though, when you opened it, you debated simply closing the door like it nothing had happened. To just shut the door tight and pretend that you hadn’t seen who was standing on your doorstep. All six feet four inches of him.

With his back to you and a large bouquet of roses in hand, Roman glanced over his shoulder when he heard the door open. He looked about as startled as you felt when he laid eyes on you.

“(Y/N).” He blurted out, his body swiveling like an owl to face the same direction as his head.

“Roman.” You gave him a forced smile, cursing that you had lost your opportunity to run and hide.

“I, uh, well, wow. I, these are for your mother,” Roman whipped out the bouquet from behind him, “I heard about your dad. I just wanted to see how she was holding up. I know they aren’t close or anything, but y’know, it’s still the father of her child.”

You took the flowers from him carefully, making sure to avoid where his fingers lay on the stems.

“She’s not here, but thanks. I’ll make sure to let her know you stopped by.” You continued your kind facade before moving to shut the door.

But Roman was quicker as he placed a large hand on the wood to keep it ajar.

“I’m sorry for you too, you know? I know how it feels to lose a father. So, I’m sorry.” He said, like he was trying to keep you in his company as long as possible.

“Wish my dad would have eaten a bullet when I was a kid. You got lucky.” You joke, once more trying to shut the door.

And Roman continued to keep it open.

“Well, I know things ended… bad- But! I’m still here if you need me. For anything. Have all the preparations been taken care of?” He asked.

“Yeah, my grandma and grandpa took care of it. Nothing to worry about. But thanks, Roman.”

Roman’s eyes widened and his mouth puckered, the way he always did when he had a million things to say and no idea how to say them.

You began to notice his attire as he loomed over you, with no seeming intention of leaving you or your front stoop alone.

He wore a thick winter coat over a black three piece suit, tailored to perfection. His hair was parted on the right and smoothed down with gel. It certainly wasn’t your favorite look on him, but your input hardly mattered anymore. He wore Oxford dress shoes that were spotless and without a crease. You realized just then that he must have come right from The White Tower to bring the flowers to your mother, and these were his work clothes. These were the clothes and fifty dollar haircut of a fresh faced CEO.

You had known that he was set to secede the throne of Godfrey Industries once he turned eighteen, but you never gave it much thought after you moved to New York. The Roman who haunted your dreams and took residence in your thoughts was always your Roman. The boy who wanted to smoke and dance and kiss and laugh. Not a business tycoon out for blood.

“I didn’t know you would be in town. I would have stopped by.” He said, finally finding words to give him a reason to stay.

“You already have.”

“I know, but I would have made it more deliberate. More to see you and not to just give my condolences to you mother.” Roman explained, his hand still on the door.

You snort, “Yeah, well I don’t know why you’re giving her flowers anyway. She doesn’t like you. Not after I told her everything.”

“Yeah, uh, I didn’t know that.” He laughs uncomfortably, finally taking a step away and relieving your door of his hostage.

“Well, it was nice of you to come by. I’ll see you around, Roman.” It was clear from your tone that this incommodious conversation was over.

Though, Roman still was outwardly ignoring your brusque attitude, “Could I come in? I would love to catch up for a moment? For old times sake?”

“I don’t know if that is such a good idea.”

“I won’t be long, I promise.” He bargained

You watched him for a long moment, debating on what to do. On one hand, you craved his presence. You craved him after just one sighting and wanted him to come in, to talk, to listen, to heal. Because like you said to Peter in the car earlier, you did believe that Roman had done what he had for a reason, it was just no doubt a fucked up and selfish one. You couldn’t hate him forever, you didn’t want to. It would destroy you before it did any good.

On the other, all you could do was hear his voice echoing in your mind, explaining his disgust for you.

But, you wanted to look to the future. You wanted to free yourself of the burden of grudges and hatred. You wanted to forgive Roman, the best you could, and leave him and his faults to fester in the past while you moved on with your life.

So, you pushed the door open wider with the tips of your fingers and walked back to the kitchen, while Roman eagerly followed.

“I’ll have to find every vase in the house for these,” You quietly joked.

“I could buy a big vase to hold them tomorrow and send it over if you’d like?” He was following closer than you would have liked as you searched the cabinets for vases and empty jars.

“No, it’s alright. I think I’ll like how eclectic they’ll look in mismatched glasses.” You said, “And then I could put them all around the house. It’ll be a nice surprise for my mom when she gets home.”

You undid the thick satin ribbon holding the bouquet together and found a pair of scissors to cut off the ends.

“Want me to fill these with water?” Roman asked, nodding to the empty vases.

“If you don’t mind.”

Roman nodded, shedding his wool jacket and blazer, depositing it on a chair. Then, rounding the island to stand next to you to begin filling each receptacle from the sink.

He was closer to you now than he had been in months. You could smell his woody cologne that clung to his skin, mixed with cigarette smoke and the night air. He must have been driving with the top down. You hated that only his scent could send your heart into somersaults and make your hands quiver with need. All you could think about with him in such a proximity was looking up into his green eyes and him looking down into your (Y/E/C) ones. Looking down at you with that stupid fucking smirk. Then with that smirk, Roman would place a hand on your cheek and gently press it to your lips and you would be in heaven.

Anything Roman did to you was heaven.

Expect when he was hurting you. Which you had to remind yourself, he very much did.

“So, where’s your mom?” Roman asked, placing a mason jar next to faux crystal vase.

“In Florida with her new boyfriend.” You commented.

“Yeah, I heard she was seeing someone.”

“You know if he’s any good?”

“Nah, just that she was seeing someone. I keep an ear to the ground to make sure she’s doing alright.” Another glass filled.

“You don’t have to do that, Roman.” You paused cutting stems for a moment to glance up at him.

He was already looking at you.

“I know. I want to. It’s the least I can do.”

You hold eye contact for a few beats, Roman’s eyes boring into yours in that hyponic way that always left you weak in the knees.

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it.” And you both went back to your tasks at hand.

It was obvious that you were more than willing to work in silence, and it was clear that Roman wasn’t.

“So… how’s NYU?” He prompts.

“Good. I really like it.”

“Enjoying your studies?”

“Very much.”

“And the city? Is it treating you alright?”

“Yes, I think after I graduate I’ll stay for a while.”

Roman only hums in reply. Like that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that you’re doing well.”

“Thank you.”

The conversation lulls as the sound of water and sheers fill the room.

Roman is chewing his cheek and bobbing his head, and you know he won’t let up his chatter anytime soon.

“I’ve been working at The Tower. I took over a few months ago.” He says, eyes darting to you like he was looking for praise.

“Oh,” You reply like you hadn’t already figured it out, “How’s that going?”

“Fine. I mean, it’s a lot of work. A lot of stress, but I’m glad I’m doing it.” He sounds unconvincing as he rambles on about Godfrey Industries and Pryce’s lab while you focus on the flowers.

“Do you ever wonder what you would be doing if you hadn’t been told your entire life that you would take over Godfrey?” You ask, somewhat out of the blue.

Roman stops talking abruptly, his hands pausing under the tap.

“Not really.”

“Isn’t there anything else you would have wanted to do? Like in a dream scenario in a perfect world?” You elaborate.

Roman seems unsettled by your questioning, like these were things no one had ever asked him. Things he had never even asked himself.

“I think in a dream scenario, I would be rich beyond my wildest dreams. And I already am, so why waste time dreaming?” You can tell he isn’t even satisfied with his answer.

You don’t reply, leaving the subject where it lay in the air to go back to working in silence.

“So...” Roman begins again, refusing to let the conversation die down.

“You seeing anyone?” Roman tries to sound blase, but you know this question lays heavy on him.

You barely withhold a scoff as you set your scissors down to look at him once more.

He double takes in your direction, not wanting to look at you for fear of your answer, “What?”

“I’m just surprised you held off this long without asking the question we both know you wanted to ask the second you saw me.”

“Not really an answer…” he murmurs.

“Not really your business.” You counter.

“So there is someone?” You could hear a twinge of anger in his voice.

“Not that it is any of your business, because I want to stress that it really isn’t, but no. I am not seeing anyone.”

“Oh.” Roman’s lip twitches into a smile that he tries to conceal from you.

“Yeah, oh.” You roll your eyes and finish with your clippings and begin to arrange the rose into glasses.

“Aren’t you going to ask me?” Roman, with his work now over, turns to look down at you, a smirk on his lips.

“Ask you what?”

“If I’m seeing anyone.”

“I don’t care, Roman.”

“Really?” He leans closer to you.

“Well, what constitutes seeing someone, to you? A one night stand? A hooker? An actual multiple date relationship? What is your definition?” You jeer.

“How would you define it?”

“Different from you.”

“Oh come on,” He pokes, “Tell me.”

He was becoming far too chummy with you for your taste.

“I guess I would define it as multiple dates.”

“By that definition, then no. I’m not seeing anyone.”

“But if I defined it by hookers and one night stands?” You inquired.

Roman doesn’t answer.

You can’t help but laugh, “And you said I was a whore.”

The air between you changes, then. It was calm, if not slightly awkward before then, but now it felt tense and uncomfortable.

“(Y/N), I…”

“Don’t.” You reply before he can say anything else.

“But I want to say this, I need to.” Roman persists, reaching out to grab your shoulder.

You shrug off his advance quickly and take a few steps back from him. Roses and vases completely forgotten.

“I need to apologize to you.”

“You need to apologize to me for what, Roman?”

“For that night, what I said-!” Roman starts.

“No. What I mean is, are you apologizing because you’re actually sorry? Because you think that’s what you’re supposed to say to me? Or because you want what you did off your conscious?” You raise a single eyebrow.

“Are you kidding? I’m saying this because I am fucking sorry! I hate what I said to you, it fucking eats me up!” Roman throws his hand in the air as he yells.

“So it is option C.” You replied.

“Jesus fucking- no! It’s not! It’s A! It’s fucking A. You think I wanted to do what I did? Huh? You think I wanted you to leave?”

“Yes, I did. I do.”

“Then fuck you if you think that. Fuck you if you think that I wanted to say all those things. Maybe you don’t really know me at all.” Roman sneers.

“I already concluded that.”

He scoffs.

“Is this why you wanted to come in? Force me into conversation? Ask me if I’m dating anyone, give me a half assed apology and insult me?” You crossed your arms.

“No! No, that’s not why I asked to come in.” Roman shot back.

“Then why?”

“Because I fucking missed you, alright? I fucking missed you and I needed to be near you, even if only for a moment.”

Roman’s voice echoed in the kitchen, his words hanging in the air and ringing in your ears. You could hear them dance in your mind and slide down your back with a chill, taunting you and making your emotions tear in a million different directions.

“Roman, I think it’s time for you to leave.” You say, running your tongue over your teeth.

“No! I’m not fucking leaving. Tell me you don’t miss me too.” Roman took a step toward you as he ran a hand through his slicked down hair, ruining it’s perfection.

“I have to get up early, so I just really think you should go.”

“(Y/N), tell me you don’t miss me and I’ll leave right now. You’ll never see me again, I swear.”

You don’t respond, just cross your arms over your chest. You rub your hands over the skin of your arms, peaking your fingers beneath your shirtsleeves and gripping the fabric tightly.

“Just tell me.”

You meet his gaze as Roman closes the gap between the two of you. He was close enough for you to feel his breath on your skin and the warmth he radiated. An unwarranted chill set through you.

All hope of forgetting the past and moving on was gone, you didn’t care anymore. All you wanted was for Roman to leave. You wanted him to leave so you could wrap yourself in blankets and cry until you couldn’t see anymore.

“Roman, just go.” You whispered, your vocal chords straining to even do that.

“It’s because you can’t say that you don’t.” Roman raised a hand a single finger tracing the features of your face and causing your eyes to drift shut.

He traced your orbital bone and the angle of your nose and your eyebrow and ear. He traced your jaw and your chin and the shape of your ear and stopped to caress your lips.

With each swoop of his finger tip, he was erasing hurt and anguish and pain. He was soothing you and giving you an old form of intimacy that you had craved. He was regaining his sense of self in your mind, reminding you that he could act like he had before that night. He was twining his roots back into your mind.

When his finger finally stopped, you opened your eyes and saw tears had gathered in Roman’s. They were threatening to breech from his lash line as he stared at you with a drumming heart.

“Tell me why you hurt me first.”

And Roman dropped his hand and said nothing for a long moment.

“It’s a long story.” He replies, sniffling loudly through his nose.

“I’ve got time.”

“It’s not pretty.”

“I don’t care.”

You had moved to the dining room for Roman’s story. You both sat on opposite ends of your mother’s old mosaic table that you had both eaten many meals at. It was covered in vintage tiles and you picked at the surrounding grout as you listened to him. You ground your fingernails between the titles, filing them into powder as Roman told you about his birthday and everything that had happened since the night you left him.

Of Letha. Of the child. Of the razor blades embedded into his arms. Of his mother’s tongue. Of the bloodlust.

Of the loss.

“This is some fucking Twilight bullshit.” You said once Roman had gone quiet.

“This isn’t fucking funny, (Y/N).” Roman replied, bouncing his knee and pinching his chin.

“No, it’s not fucking funny at all, Roman. Not even a bit, but it is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my life.” You snort a laugh from your nose.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Oh, I believe you. After all that shit with Peter, of course I believe you. Doesn’t make it any less ridiculous.”

Roman raises his eyebrows in understanding with a slight nod.

“So, what? You saying all that shit to me was because you thought you were going to suck me dry, or something?”

“Stop making jokes.” He growled.

“I’m being fucking serious, Roman! What was it?” You stood from your chair to impose over him.

“You deserved better. It would have been too much for you.”

“Oh, don’t be such a martyr, Roman!” You fumed, “Since when have you ever got to decide what was good and what was bad for me?”

“You don’t understand!” Roman pushed up from his chair with such force it tumbled to the floor, “I could barley fucking handle this, OK? I had been living a lie, I had become a monster overnight! I was fucking scared for you- scared for me. What I could do-”

His voice began to quiver and his palms shook as he wiped his clammy palms on his slacks.

“You would either have left me or I would have killed you. I don’t doubt that for a second, and I couldn’t lose anyone else. Not after Letha, not after Peter and Shelley. I just couldn’t.”

“So, pushing me away was the answer?” You asked.

“At the time, yes.”

You just shook your head, and collapsed back into your chair.

“I did it because I loved you.” Roman said, tears streaking his flushed cheeks.

“Stop, Roman...”

“I fucking loved you so much so I made you leave. I fucking love you more than anything.”

He spoke like he was taking his last breath and collapsed to his knees like a dying man, his bones smacking loudly against the linoleum as he crawled to you, tears still leaking from his eyes.

“You have to believe that I’m sorry. I am, I am, I am.”

Roman rested his head on your lap as he wept, his hands clutching your calves.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think or speak. All your mind could comprehend was Roman’s deep and encompassing sadness and his wayward soul.

You could barely grasp the story he told, so it was unimaginable to you how it must have felt to live it. Your heart ached for him so profoundly.

Of course you didn’t agree with what he had done to you, not for a moment. He had resorted to cruelty out of fear and you hated it. It was inexcusable.

But, you folded yourself in half and covered his body with yours anyway, and let Roman cry in your lap. You let him cry out the fear and sadness and the exhaustion he had felt these past months.

You had let Roman cry himself dry before escorting him to the door. He held your hand on the way and you didn’t stop him. When you reached the door, Roman was the one to open it and step out into the cold Pennsylvania night. Though, his hand stayed intertwined with your own as he walked out onto your porch.

“What time is the funeral?” He asked.

“10 AM.” You replied.

His skin seemed to glow against the night sky, his milky complexion contrasting beautifully to the dark nature behind him.

“I’ll be there.”

You shook your head, but squeezed his hand, “You don’t have to, really. It’s going to be long and boring.”

“(Y/N),” He looked at you with a crisp sincerity, “I’ll be there.”

You didn’t know what to say, because you weren’t entirely sure what you should say. You wanted to beg him not to come and make a spectacle at his attendance. You wanted to beg him to come and hold your hand and ward off the demons your father had sewn into your psyche.

“Please, Roman, it’s not a big deal. I swear. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

He pursed his lips back at you, like he was deciding if arguing with you on the matter was really worth it. Or if he would win or not. In the end, he said nothing. Just nodded and glanced over to his bright red Jaguar in the driveway.

When Roman looked back to you, you both knew a goodbye wasn’t needed. Your love-telepathy coming back just for a moment to bid each other adidu for the night. An intimacy you didn’t even know you missed until now.

Roman was the first to step away, pulling your hands apart as he did. You felt each finger detangle from his own, until your pinkies were the only things tethering you to each other. When they detached, your hand fell listlessly to your side and Roman watched you intently as he walked to his car, got in, and pulled from your drive away. Only looking away when he finally drove into the night.

You smoothed the dress over your hips as you smiled politely at guests entering the church. They offered you watery smiles and condolences as they spread out into the pews.

You wanted to spit in their faces and scream. Scream and sink your nails into your skin and tell them that he had painted bruises on your skin and installed his hatred for you into your heart before you were old enough to know it was wrong.

He wasn’t a good man. He was far from it.

But no one who was crying tears for him and shaking your hand knew this, and if they did they didn’t care. He was good at hiding what he did, what he had become.

You felt like your head was in a fish bowl with the more people who entered. Their faces blurring and distorting before you, their words muffled and useless. You began just nodding at everyone’s words, refusing to listen to anything else they had to say about Heaven and God’s good will. You wished you had a good excuse to leave and never come back.

It wasn’t until someone wheeled in the casket that you found your escape from the line of mourners and made your way outside. Because the second you laid eyes on the box of shiny mahogany, your stomach dropped to your feet and bile threatened to spill from your lips.

The man you had hated your entire life, the one who had hurt you, the one who struck you, the one who had belittled you, the man who hurt your mother. That man was dead. He was in that fucking box, seperated from you and the living by a few inches of wood.

That man was your father and he was supposed to love you and now he was filled with stuffing and had waxy skin covered in blush and a heart that would never beat again. A mouth that was sewn shut and would never speak again. To never yell, to laugh, to tell you he loved you.

It was over.

Then why were you so sad?

Maybe Peter was right... maybe you’d even tell him.

As you made your way outside, you sucked in as much fresh air as your lungs could take. You let the cold air chill your exposed skin and the grey skies calm your overstimulated senses. While gulping in the breeze and pressing your fingernails to your palms to ground yourself, you gazed out over the parking lot. It was then, that you shed your first tears of the day.

Because there, all in black leaning against his car was Roman Godfrey, looking right back at you.

He’d come.

Because he cared.

Because he loved you.

You didn’t think twice as he ran down the church steps as fast as your heels could take you to him, needing to feel him. Roman did the same, rushing across the asfalte to you, wrapping you in his arms immediately as you collided with his chest.

“You came,” You sobbed into his button down, “You came, you came, you came.”

“Of course I did.” He cooed, nuzzling close to you.

“I needed you and you knew and you came.”

“I’ll always come, even when you don’t call.”

As you both went back to the church, Roman stood with you to greet people coming in. His hand on your lower back and his grandiose stature and expression keeping people from dawdling too long to speak with you.

The service was bleak and full of lies, but you mustered through it without a scoff or outburst for your grandparents sake. Roman sat next to you the entire time, his arm over your shoulder and his temple resting against your head. He’d occasionally place a gentle kiss to your hairline or stroke his fingers over your arm as a reminder that he was with you.

And you loved him for it.

When it was all over and your father’s casket was being rolled away, everyone dispersed. Some to follow the hearse to the graveyard, some to just go home. You and Roman stayed in your seats. You had decided you didn’t want to see your father put in the ground. Not because he didn’t deserve it, but because you couldn’t handle it. You weren’t sure exactly all the reasons why, maybe Peter would know the answer to that, too.

You both waited until no one was left in the church, just watching the sun gleam through the stained glass windows at the ceiling and enjoying each other's company.

“You alright?” Roman asked once he was sure everyone was gone.

“I don’t know. I’m still figuring that out, I guess.” You said with a half hearted shrug.

“It’s OK. You have time.”

You gave a nod before leaning closer to him, resting your head underneath his own, letting Roman sit his chin on your crown.

“I thought I would be overjoyed when this day finally came… but I’m not. I’m not really happy and I’m not really sad. I’m just here.”

“I think that’s just fine.” Roman replied, rubbing gentle up and down your arm.

“Thank you for being here.” You remove yourself from under his chin to look at him, “It would have been so much worse without you.”

Roman offered you a soft smile and placed his unoccupied hand on your cheek.

You placed your own hand over his and shut your eyes, reveling in his soft touch.

It was so quiet and all you could hear was the sound of your heart in your ears and Roman’s rhythmic breathing.

“What now?”

“I’m not sure,” You open your eyes to see he’s already looking at you, “Where are you going?”

“Wherever you are.”

You smile, “Then take me there.”

As you walked through Roman’s front door, you tried to hide a frown. The old Godfrey mansion had been so intricate and full of character. With crown molding and warm golds and rich browns, and history in every nook and cranny. Roman’s new home… it was sterile and bland and grey. It felt cold even with the hum of the radiator. It felt large and imposing, much like it’s owner. It was the type of home that echoed with loneliness.

“So, what do you think?” Roman asked from where he stood close behind you.

“I like it,” You said, “It’s very…”

“You hate it.”

You turned to face him and he was looking at you fondly.

“I wouldn’t say hate. Just, not my style.”

He nods and takes a step forward, “Yeah, I sort of knew you wouldn’t like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You always loved the old house. Said it felt like you were in a victorian novel.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest at his memory, “And you always hated it.”

“I wouldn’t say hate. Just, not my style.” He grins at you and you can’t help but smile back at him.

“So, you decided when you moved out you’d make your new place the antithesis of it?”

“Something like that. Anything to erase the memory of my mother.” Roman says this with the cadence of a joke, but his eyes darken at the mention of Olivia.

“I can’t say I blame you.” You reply before he quickly changes the subject.

“Have a seat and I’ll make us both a drink,” He says, gesturing toward his large loveseat in the living room.

You do so, and as you sit down, you admire him standing over the wet bar. He had shed his blazer from his suit on the kitchen table, and through the fabric of his button down (an expensive silk blend from the looks of it) you could so the movement of his broad shoulders and the expanse of the muscles in his back.

The memory of running your hands across the peaks and valleys of his back stuck you. The memory of his smooth skin under your palms made your fingers burn with yearning and twitch with need to reacquaint yourself with the velvet that was Roman Godfrey’s skin.

Roman had finished making your drinks. Both crimson in crystal tumblers. He walked to you and handed you the beverage, which you accepted with a thank you. As you took your first sip of your drink, you couldn't help but smile as Roman sat down next to you on his couch.

“Vodka cranberry?”

“Like I’d forget your favorite drink,” He says, smiling against the rim of his tumbler, “Well, second favorite. I don’t really have the ingredients for a Long Island iced tea.”

“I think this works better under the circumstances, anyway. Drinking a Long Island iced tea after a funeral feels a little morbid.”

“Yeah, but your dad would’ve hated that you were drinking one.” Roman pointed out.

You chuckled, because he was right. Your father hated drinks where the alcohol was masked by chasers and sugar. He deemed them feminine and embarrassing for anyone to drink, ridiculing anyone (no matter their gender) if they ordered one.

“That is true,” You take a pull from your glass, “He would have hated that you went to his funeral, too. Because, well he hated you.”

Roman gives a wide smirk, “I can’t say that doesn't bring me some joy.”

You could count on one hand the number of times your father met Roman during the years you dated. Though, everytime he had, he made his distinct dislike for your boyfriend overwhelmingly obvious. He thought of Roman like most other people in town did. A spoiled, rich, entitled, sauve asshole. But, for your father, he felt like he had a personal stake in hating Roman. He masqueraded like he didn’t like Roman simply for dating his daughter, but he didn’t give a shit about you or your well being. Your father, the pathetic drunk that he was, was threatened by Roman more than any man you had ever met. He was the one person who he couldn’t intimidate and feel superior too, because Roman didn’t feel intimidated or lesser to anyone in the world.

“Me too.”

You both drink in silence for a moment, and you pretend not to notice Roman as he inched closer to you on the cushions.

“Do you remember,” Roman says, swallowing a gulp of his drink, “that time we snuck into that club in Philadelphia? And you and Letha, just got, like absolutely abliderated on Long Island iced teas?”

You smiled at the memory, your lips parting with glee the more you remembered about the night.

“Yes! Oh my God, I had totally forgot about that.”

Roman had paid off some bouncer to let the three of you into some club downtown and it had been a spectacular night. You and Letha were guzzling drinks like it was the end of the world. Roman was only encouraging your recklessness with jokes and bankrolling the bottomless teas. Letha had danced on the bar top while singing you an off key Elton John song while you drunkenly squealed with glee in a hysterical Roman’s arms. You had never seen Roman laugh so much until that night.

You all danced and drank and laughed and smiled. You had all hid in a corner as you had fished out cocaine from a baggy with your pinky nail, and held it to each Godfrey’s nose like you were giving them communion, before blessing yourself.

You distinctly remember hanging off Roman like a kola most of the night. Giving him sloppy kisses and groping him in the crowd with whispered promises of more when you were alone. You remember him smiling down at you and always having a hand on your ass. You remember Letha’s happy screams and giggles and how she was twirling so much on the dance floor she tumbled.

“That was a really good night.” You said.

Roman nodded, “It was. It was one of those rare times I could get Letha out of her shell.”

The mood dipped from happy memories to grief as his cousin's untimely death was remembered. It was written clear as day on Roman’s face that he was far from healed from her passing.

“I miss her, too.” You placed a hand on his.

“Yeah. Life isn’t far, huh?” You saw he was trying to ward off a wash of emotion, not wanting to wallow in her death, because it wasn’t an easy pit to push himself out of.

“No, it really isn’t.”

If life was fair, Olivia would have been long deceased. Roman wouldn’t have ever been coerced to do any heinous acts. Letha would be alive. Shelley would have never vanished.

You didn’t dare bring up his missing sister to Roman, because that pain was almost worse than the wound Letha’s death had inflicted. For the both of you.

You had learned from Peter the previous day that Shelley was still missing with no leads in finding her. You had nodded but said nothing else and he had let you.

You had always been close with Shelley. She was so kind and sweet, and incredibly understanding and thoughtful. You were the only two women Roman truly loved and that bonded you in a way, to be the only ones to have his unfettered devotion. The thought of Shelley, out in the world alone, scared and labeled a fugitive made you sick. You couldn’t think about it for long without your nausea sparking and tears forming in your eyes.

“What I said to you… that night? That wasn’t fair either. It wasn’t fair of me to hurt you like that.” Roman says, his eyes cast down.

“Roman, we don’t have to do this again. It’s fine, no worries.” You said as casually as possible.

“No, but it really wasn’t,” Roman shakes his head and rotates his body toward you.

“I said those things because I was scared, not because they were true. You have to know that.”

You swallow thickly and nod. Rationally, you knew that was true. After Roman had explained to you yesterday the reason for his vicious one-eighty toward you, you knew that he was only being cruel to push you away. But the words still hurt, they were still brutal enough to feel like there was an ounce of truth to them.

“I was wrong, I can see that now, yknow? I was really wrong for all of that,” Roman lamented, “I fucked up.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). That’s what I really want to say, what I really want you to know. And you know me, probably better than anyone in the world, maybe even more than I know myself,” He huffed a laugh, “And you know that I don’t apologize. Because I’m not wrong. I’m just not. I don’t say I’m sorry, not to anyone… but this, I gotta own up to. Because I was wrong for hurting you, pushing you away.”

You listened to Roman with baited breath.

“You were the only person who ever really saw me. Looked into my eyes and saw past the bullshit and accepted me, loved me… and the idea of you hating me forever killed me, fucking killed me so much. But it was better than you sticking around and seeing that all that bullshit was true, and maybe I was even worse.”

“Roman,” You rasped, gripping his hand tighter, your fingernails biting into his skin.

“I promised to never hurt you, to protect you, keep you safe. And I failed.”

Roman had always been protective of his loved ones. He hoarded them like a dragon with gold, prowling in front of them with bared teeth and spitting fury. You still remember the first time he pledged his devotion to you, his undying protection and loyalty.

It was after the first time he had met your father. A dinner at the Godfrey mansion with your parents, Olivia, Shelley, yourself and Roman. It was an evening requested by Olivia to meet the parents of the girl who had bewitched her son.

She had been her typical elitist self, turning her nose up at your middle class parents with joy. You were sure she was vibrating in her seat with happiness that she could feel so superior to your average parents. Likely hoping Roman would see this too, and kick you to the curb.

You mother had been aimable, mostly quiet. You always thought of your mother as a very charming woman, who could talk to anyone no matter the circumstance. But, Olivia would barely let her get a word in, so she took the hint. Though, you could tell Shelley liked her, and that warmed your heart.

The night’s conversation was dominated by Olivia for the most part, regaling the Godfrey wealth and stories of her privileged life. When she wasn’t boasting about herself, your father would be the one to chime in. Either with an offensive comment or with his poor table manners. It was like having a wild boar in the Shangri La and you felt your face heat with consistent humiliation. You could see your mother twitch uncomfortably across from you whenever he would act, and you knew she was in the same boat.

You were already planning your apology to Roman when your father spoke up. You had been too busy stewing in your mortification to follow the conversation being had at the time.

“Well, I tell you something, Roman. This one over here,” Your father stuck his fork over to you, “Isn’t gonna be a good little wife, not like your mother is.”

Your father threw a smarmy grin to Olivia.

“You’re gonna have to wipe her into shape. Always wants to back talk and cross her damn arms and stomp her damn feet at you.”

Your father laughs and nuges your mother with his elbow, like he had made a joke. Like he thought this joke about you as Roman’s meek little wife would please Olivia and your boyfriend.

Olivia laughed along and made a comment about her predisposition to wifehood because of her upbring, while Roman seethed. You could see his jaw flexing and hear the sound of his ragged breaths through his nose. You discreetly placed your hand on his lap, doing your best to calm him, but it did nothing as your father continued to make comments about your disrespectful personality, all with the cadence of a joke.

“Why don’t you go out for a smoke?” Roman said to your father through gritted teeth.

“Excuse me?” You father said, stopping mid sentence and glaring at Roman.

“I said, why don’t you go out for a smoke and cool off? And when you come back, be a little fucking nicer?”

Roman’s eyes bore into your father’s as he spoke. Your father looked furious at this teenage boy’s demand, and you were sure there was going to be a fight. Both men were incredibly hot headed, that this evening might even end in a physical altercation. But, your father just pushed up from the table and left the five of you in awkward silence. Roman relaxed once your father was gone, taking your hand from his lap and intertwining your fingers together on the tabletop. Your mother soon struck up a conversation with Olivia about the antique chaise lounge in the living room.

Roman held your hand for the rest of the night. When your father returned, he stayed silent.

When it was time for your parents to leave, Roman offered to drive you home. Though, the minute both you were out of sight of his home and your parents, he pulled over.

“Roman, I am so sorry about-” You began, but Roman stopped you by placing his hands firmly on your cheeks.

“Don’t apologize. Not for that fucking man.” He said, his tone turning venomous when he mentioned your father.

“The fucking nerve of him,” Roman spat, his hands tightening on your face, “The fucking nerve of him to speak like that about you. And to me! To me in my fucking home. I’m going to kill him, I’ll fucking kill him.”

Roman spoke sincerely and you wondered for a moment if you asked him to kill your father, would he?

“He’s not worth it, he’s not even worth your anger.” You sighed, placing your hand on his wrist and stroking his skin with your thumb.

“He isn’t worth shit. That fucking cunt.”

You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched your boyfriend speak obscenities.

“What?”

“You look very sexy when you’re this mad.”

You could see Roman’s face visibly relax. You knew he was still angry, but your comment had placated him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You grinned at him and began to lean in for a kiss when Roman stopped you.

You looked into his eyes again and you saw this serious demoaner was back.

“I will never let him say anything like what he said tonight to you again, OK? Never. I’ll never let him fucking touch you again,” Roman came to rest his forehead to yours, “I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. I will keep you safe forever.”

And you believed him. You believed him more than you had ever believed a single person in your life. There wasn’t an ounce of you in that moment that could argue with him. You trusted him fully.

“Ok.” Was all you could say with the emotion that was brewing from his confession, before he finally pulled you to his lips.

It was the first time you realized you loved him.

“All I have ever wanted is to keep you safe.” He said it with the same vigor and sincerity that he had in his original vow to you in his car on the side of the road.

And again, you couldn’t help but believe him.

“I forgive you.” You really did.

He was swathing you with the salve of love and honesty, healing the wounds he carved into your skin with his earnest.

“You were scared, you had just had your life turned upside down… I get it. It’s OK. I’m not blameless either. I said some nasty things.”

Roman looks up from where your hands are connected and gives you a signature fierce stare.

The weight of his gaze on you feels heavy as he leans forward to set his glass on the coffee table. His eyes never leave yours as he does. As he moves back to the couch, he uses his movement to his advantage to seamlessly reach out to cup your jaw, as he settled back next to you, much closer than before.

Goosebumps bit across your flesh as the feeling of his broad palm engulfed your face and his breath began to fan across your lips. Roman was smooth, he was graceful and agile in everything he did. Everything including the set up to a kiss, especially a long awaited and important one.

Roman glides his middle and forefinger up to cradle your ear, to anchor himself to you before using his thumb on the underside of your jaw to tilt your chin. You blood was rushing loudly through your ears and all you could think of was him as Roman’s other arm came to rest across the back of the sofa and ecase you in his arms. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip before he descended for yours.

And you felt euphoric. A warmth in the pit of your stomach that only Roman would kindle.

Roman nuzzled his lips against your mouth, the tip of his nose brushing your own. Your hands migrated to lay purchase on his shoulders as you let Roman pull you impossibly close to his body. You could feel his heated cheeks against your face and you could feel his racing pulse beneath your fingers as he tipped your face up and opened his mouth into the kiss. His tongue dipped past your lips and you accepted him with a soft whimper.

Your sound of pleasure surged Roman on as he began to kiss you harder. Sweeter. Messier. Hotter. Just like he always had.

Soon, you were flat against the couch cushions, Roman above you as his hands explored your body. Your legs bracketed his hips, pushing the heels of your feet against the tops of his thighs to keep him snug against you. Your hands clutched his back tightly, the very same back you had been craving to get your hands on since you walked through the door.

Roman’s lips detached from your own to drift to your cheeks, your jaw and your neck. To bite, to suck and lick with his sinful tongue. You keened and moaned at his attentions, your back arching into him. The spit he left in his wake met the air in a chilling exchange that cooled your fiery skin.

“My baby,” He said to your skin.

“My girl,” He groaned.

“Mine,” He bit the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“Mine, mine, mine,”

You didn’t want to be present while listening to his possessions. You wanted to let them grip you and own you and continue to make your stomach flutter. You didn’t want to have to tell Roman right now that you didn’t know if you could be his again…

“You’re mine, always, always, always,” Roman moaned against you, his voice pornographically seductive.

“Yes, please,” You didn’t know what you were begging for, but you just knew you didn’t want the feeling of Roman to stop.

“It’s me and you, we’re together again, it’ll all be OK now,” He says before giving you another sloppy kiss.

“Be with me, be here. We can make it work.”

Roman goes back to attacking your neck with his petal soft lips, but you were finally snapped from your the haze of pleasure he had accosted you with.

“Roman, hold on,” You pushed your hands on his shoulder, “Stop.”

“What?” He pulled away from you quickly, chest heaving as he looked down at you.

He looked so boyishly innocent. His lips flush from kissing and his once perfect hair askew from your ministrations. Eyes wide and questioning. He was the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

“I,” You took a pause, “I can’t stay here, Roman. I just can’t.”

He looked like you’ve shocked him, stuck his finger in an electrical socket and watched. Roman pushed himself further up, but still hovered over you.

“What do you mean you can’t stay?” He says your words back to you like they were a personal affront.

“I live in New York now, that’s where my life is. I can’t just leave.”

Roman’s jaw flexes and you watch him swallow.

“What? So, this means nothing?” He gestures between your bodies.

“No, of course not. Of course it means something.” You replied hastily.

But, Roman was already getting up off of you and started to pace the length of his kitchen. You pushed up to watch him with concern.

“I don’t know what you want me to do, I said I was sorry and I am. I really, truly am! So, why can’t you just stay with me? Be with me?” He argued.

“I know you are! I do, but just because I know you’re sorry doesn’t change the fact that I have a life somewhere else now, Ro. I can’t just abandon it.”

“Why can’t you? Just come home!” Roman threw his arms up in anger.

“I don’t want to abandon it, Roman. I don’t want to leave. I like it there.” You move yourself onto your knees as you speak.

“Jesus fucking-” Roman looked away from you and tugs at his hair, “I can’t believe you right now!”

“Roman,” You sigh.

“No! You know what? I have been declaring my fucking love for you for the past two days and that just means nothing to you? Because it doesn’t mean nothing to me.”

“It means something-!” You begin, but Roman talks over you.

“And that, that on the couch, that fucking meant something to me! Because you mean something to me, (Y/N). You always have and you always will.” He’s shouting now, if he had any neighbors you’re sure they would be able to hear.

Your eyes filmed with tears as you watch him.

“And fuck, while I’ve been going on like a bitch about how I love you, how I’m devoted to you, and you haven’t said shit! Not a word.” Roman’s eyes are beginning to wet as well.

“Is that what this is? You don’t fucking love me?” His anger cracks as his voice quivers.

“Roman, no!” You spring from where you knelt on the couch and rush to him, “I do, you know I do. I love you! I love you so much I ache.”

You cry freely now as you try to clutch his face, but Roman brushes you off.

“I love you, I have always loved you Roman. I always will. But,”

“But what? How is that not enough!”

“I need you to love me enough to know there is nothing for me here.”

“Not even me?” His lip quivers.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Your hands shake and so does your breath, “I mean there is not real life for me here. You have The Tower and that’s you life, but what about me? What could I possibly do here that would make me happy?”

Roman says nothing, just swallows a hiccup that threatened to burst from his throat.

“I need you to love me enough to let me leave.”

Roman’s face crumbles into a drastic frown as he fights tears, “I can’t. I can’t do that, not again, I can’t. I can’t let you leave again.”

“Baby,” You choke out.

“No! I can’t, I love you. So, please, just love me enough to stay. I’ll give you everything you could ever want, anything you could ever dream of to make it better here.”

“Roman, I love you. I do, I always will. But, maybe this will be good for us. Have time apart to be our own people. I think it might even be healthy?” You say your last words with a watery smile that Roman doesn’t return.

“I don’t want to have time apart. I had time apart from you and I was fucking miserable.” He states.

The thought of Roman all alone in this house, heartbroken and stewing in pity and anger makes your heart convulse with pain. You thought of all the nights you slept in your dorm room, silent tears streaking your cheeks as you held your hand over your mouth in hopes to not wake your roommate. You wondered if on the nights you cried for him, if Roman had cried for you? Had he cried at all? Or while you were pouring yourself into your studies to forget him, he was fucking whores to forget you?

“Roman, please just… I love you, just please,” Again, you had no idea what you were begging for. For him to let you leave? For him to convince you to stay? All you knew was that this day had been so catosphroticlly emotionally draining and all you wanted was to fall into his arms for comfort.

“Do you want to be apart from me?” He asked bluntly.

“Roman, just-”

“Answer me. Do you want to be apart from me anymore?”

Your mouth was thick with discarded tears and phlegm. All you could do was look at him and hope he understood you. To tell him you didn’t.

His eyes softened and you knew your mental tether was still intact.

Roman takes a step toward you and moves his head to be level with your own, “Then we’ll make this work. I’ll convince NYU to let you take online classes from here, OK? I’ll build them some new buildings - hell! A new campus. I’ll be their new biggest donor, their new favorite fucking person. I’ll give them whatever they want as long as they give me you in return.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Roman.” You look down at your feet.

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

You pierce your teeth into your bottom lip and look back up at him. Back at Roman with his pink, glossy eyes and hopeful gaze.

“I love the city…”

“Then we’ll fly up every weekend, no exceptions. I’ll buy us a loft in the heart of Manhattan.You can design it to your heart’s content. Make it will feel warm and old and us. The opposite of this place.” Roman says quickly like he knew that would be your next rebuttal.

You gasp a sob and close your eyes tight. You feel Roman close the distance between you both and cup your face in his large hands.

“And we will figure the rest out, whatever else is holding you back. We’ll find you your dream job or your passion or whatever you want.”

You crack your pulsing eyes, to see Roman’s face now streaked with tears.

“Just tell me you’ll stay.”

You knew this was a risk. You knew he was a risk. You knew leaving New York and NYU sounded naive and utterly foolish to someone on the outside of your and Roman’s relationship. You knew that you would fight with him, that you would get angry with him, that he’d work too much and that he would have to reschedule trips to the city. You knew you would get irritated with each other and you’d say something snarky and Roman would say something mean. You knew there would be nights you went to bed angry and days where you gave each other the silent treatment. You knew it would be hard. Most things involving Roman were. Expect loving him.

You knew that even with all the bad that came with a relationship with Roman, it was eons better than being without him for a moment longer now that you had him again.

You had wanted to look to the future, to forget the past and forge a new way for yourself. Truthfully, you still did. But maybe you could start over with Roman by your side? Wash away the pain of his indiscretions and learn and grow and heal together? You hoped you could. You hope you weren’t letting your overwhelming love for the man in front of you cloud your judgements.

So, you placed your hands on his neck and watched his face turn hopeful and said:

“Ok.”

i really wish i could say i loved this, but i am really on the fence about if this story is even good at all? it was better in my head. but! i hope you enjoyed it anyway and pllsss if you did, gimme some feedback <3 it makes me happy :-)

#i still have other one shots in the works so hopefully those are better than this!#also prompts will be opening soon (:#roman godfrey #roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #roman godfrey imagines #roman godfrey fanfic #roman godfrey fanfiction #roman godfrey x you #hemlock grove fanfic #hemlock grove fanfiction #hemlock grove imagine #hemlock grove imagines #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgård fanfiction #bill skarsgård imagine #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgard x reader #stevesharrlngtonswrites

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captainjimothycarter · 4 years ago

Note

I heard you were looking for prompts, what do you think it would look like if Steve were around during Agent Carter (s1), like maybe by the Iron Ceiling episode

So, it’s been a loooong while since I’ve seen the Iron Ceiling or any Agent Carter and I don’t have the spoons to watch the show, so we’re gonna improv. So not historically accurate because I am not researching stuff.

This is a full-fledged fic And probably not what you wanted either because this is so rushed out. Rip me

“You sound exhausted.”

Despite that Steve was over the phone and given the sound of it, somewhere where there wasn’t much insulation due to the wind in the background, she could tell he was giving that sappy smile. It was combined with a small laugh and the shift of the phone line as it crackled when he held it closer.

“What’s new?” He sighed instead of commenting on Peggy’s statement. It only made her worry more. When she remained silent, he sighed louder. “Pegs, I’m fine. Okay, yes I’m a little exhausted, but so are you on your end given everything. We’re both strained and I...miss you.”

His voice dropped down to the last two words, how desperate it sounded, made her heart drop. She wanted to crawl from this warm bed and wrap her arms around Steve and tuck his cold face into her neck to let him warm up. She wanted to protect him from not just the elements but the aftermath of a war that the public had no idea was about.

He whispered the last two words because he was forced to - not because he had anything to hide, so Peggy told herself this despite it tugged on her in almost a jealous means. They were both professionals, they could remain professional over the phone and in the rare times they got in person. It was the only few times they got to be in private did those veils drops.

Steve being rescued had been nothing short of a miracle, an act of God or whatever deity was out there that was looking out for them. She had been the one to pull him from the ice, one of the first faces he’d seen when he woke up in one of Howard’s private hospitals. She’d been by his side his entire recovery, from learning to walk again and to have some cognitive function. The fact she refused to leave his side [see here: Philips had ordered her under the SSR’s watchful eye to keep an eye on their prized specimen] had resulted in them getting much closer in their relationship.

Not only that, but it had caused her to start the American Branch of the SSR later than she had intended. While the boys in the office had no idea Captain America was alive [as they would all see to it], they knew of her history with Steve and used it against her as much as they could.

Steve’s existence, his being founded was kept under wrap and key. The only few people who had known about it were her, Phillips, and Howard. And of course, by now a recently rescued James Barnes and the Howling Commandos. As soon as Steve was stable enough, they sent him straight back to work, and given his contract with the SSR, they figured him pretty much property of the government.

It sickened Peggy to her core.

She was used to hiding her relationship and being professional in other’s eyes, but keeping Steve at arm’s length so he could be the government puppet in a whole new meaning was not what she wanted for her beloved.

“Peggy?”

“Hm?” The woman blinked, aware Steve had been on the other end, breathing noisily against the cold climate he was in to stay warm. “I apologize, darling, I was lost in my mind. As I was saying, I think our earlier appointment of meeting up to compare notes will be scheduled earlier.”

Underneath it, she was by all legal terms, still his liaison. Not only that, but she had been tasked with collecting information from both the Commandos, and that included at least monthly meetings with Steve. They might’ve been professional where they could share longing looks behind professional’s backs, but at least it was something to look forward to.

Steve knew everything going on with Howard and the SSR and her recent suspicions that there was a mole within their sights. Not just that, but Peggy was suspecting her phone lines had been bugged due to her involvement and friendship with Howard.

“Is it now?” Steve asked, turning his head to give a strained cough. It tugged on her heart. That didn’t sound too good. “Should I tell the boys?”

“Please do. I’ll wire in the details you’ll need. Anything you boys need on your end?”

“Dugan would kiss you if you brought him his usual stash. Pinky needs more fuses if you could snag a few. Oh, Bucky needs another set of binoculars and some more gloves.”

Despite he wasn’t here, she was nodding. Her hand worked without watching what she wrote on the paper. Steve knew of her suspicion of being bugged and had agreed code talking would keep the guys on edge and keep their conversations safe.

“I’ll see what I can do, no promises, darling. Please get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Peggy sighed as she got off of the phone, looking down at the pad of paper on her bedside table. Someone has been trailing us, be on the lookout and keep your weapon on hand.

And Dugan? Dugan just wanted his alcohol.

“Peggy, Dugan forgot the password again.”

Knowing that voice anywhere, she smiled despite her reserve as the familiar faces of the boys she had called family appeared out of the bushes. If she was concerned about a missing familiar face, then it didn’t show. Instead, Peggy found herself suddenly staring at the gray sky above them. The ground was cold and hard beneath her, but the body colliding with hers to knock her off of her feet was not.

There was a split second of silence before the Howling Commandos erupted into a field of laughter much to the rest of the stoic men’s confusion. Well, not so stoic now that the shock had runoff. Including the face tinted pink above her.

“Hello to you too, James,” Peggy laughed, Bucky slowly getting off of her chest and smiling in that boyish way that made her both jealous and loving.

“I didn’t believe ‘im when he said it, but I’m glad to be wrong.” Bucky was still as Brooklyn Boy as ever despite not having been home in months. He climbed to his feet and pulled her to hers, brushing the snow off of them. He pulled her into a proper hug, finding the Howling Commandos hugging her.

“You served with Captain America.”

Her heart clenched at the awe in their tone, looking at Jack who looked at her still with disbelief, as if she had lied this entire time about her connection to the Howlies. She shared a look with Bucky who looked as if he’d swallowed a lemon, standing near her left side. Dugan looked down at her too and he nodded in her direction.

“Not as long as she has. You good, Carter? Ready?”

Jack’s mouth opened, perhaps to dismiss Dugan treating her of all people like she’s the leader of this mismatched band of guys, but it was well ignored when they started to march through the snow. She watched as Jack hesitated as if debating on not following them before he scrambled not to be left behind.

“Pegs, you’re with me. Barnes, you too because I won’t have you pouting again.”

Peggy laughed, despite herself as she pulled herself up into the jeeps with Bucky’s arm thrown around her waist to help assist her. Bucky, for all his childish needs, stuck his tongue out at Dugan before the vehicle rumbled to life and they started to roll out. The quiet didn’t stretch on long, just enough for the loud engine to cover up any whisper talking.

“How is everything?” Bucky asked, his silver eyes wide with worry. “Steve has told us...everything that he could.”

“Same as ever,” Peggy sighed, shaking her head slightly. She glanced back to watch Pinky distract the SSR boys with a quick history chat. Good. “Howard’s still in deep shit and every step forward feels like one back. How’s Steve?”

Bucky frowned because they both knew that’s not what he was asking. “Exhausted. He never knows when to admit defeat. He was denied again to be stateside. He was told again his presence is needed out here.” The man rolled his eyes with a huff. “He’s one more bad night away from going AWOL, not that any of us blame him, poor guy is doing the job for all of us, plus whatever shit ya’ll send him to do.”

His tone told Peggy that he didn’t blame her, he was as frustrated as she was. “Hopefully it doesn’t come to that. I’m sure some sense will be knocked into him sooner or later.” Her mouth opened to ask a question but a look from the jeep across from them caused her to close it.

Jack was watching her and closely.

“Carter!”

Peggy heaved a heavy sigh as she repositioned her grip on the logs for their fire tonight. They were well enough hidden in the trees to ensure that no one should see the smoke with the light dusting of snow and gray skies around them. Stopping their conversation, she gave Jones a friendly smile and passed the logs off to him. She didn’t miss the annoyed look Jones shot Jack as he marched their way.

She wanted to snicker at how he was forced to walk, almost waddling like a toddler in this new environment. A comment was on her tongue, but to play fair, she bit it back and raised her chin. “Yes, Jack?”

“I don’t remember Dooley giving you command of our mission. You may disrespect his orders in the office but you will not disrespect me here.” He towered over her, a twitch in his jaw telling her that he’s been thinking about this far too long. She wanted to laugh, honestly because it almost sounded like he was jealous of her and her involvement with the Howling Commandos.

“He didn’t,” she replied in an equally cool tongue, shrugging her shoulders. “If you’ve been paying attention, Agent Thompson, I’ve been pulling my equal weight around here just as everyone else has.”

“Your involvement is this is only because of your pestering Dooley and your connection with the Commandos. Remember your place, Carter. You spent far too much time under Cap-”

A gloved hand clasping Peggy’s shoulder and making her knees buckle caused Jack to turn almost white as the environment around him. Despite knowing the situation, she had almost hoped the gloved hand belonged to Steve, but given how tightly it gripped her shoulder and the freehand that pulling on the strap of the rifle, she knew it was Bucky.

His lips were pressed into a thin line, eyes boring into Jack’s. He stood a little taller due to the boots, but it was enough for him to use his height over the agent.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Bucky mused, raising an eyebrow. “Peggy spent too much time where? Pegs, you wanna head back to camp, Pinky and Morita have a trick they wanna show you.”

Jack huffed, giving a roll of his eyes as Bucky’s arm pulled her closer to his chest. “Nothing, Sergeant. Carter and I were having a private conversation that you butted in.”

“If it’s nothing, then you won’t mind if I pull her away to help start the fire. You know us Howlies, too busy spending time worshipping the ground Steve walks on to know any survival skills. Only way we survived was cause of her.” He dug into his pocket and tossed Jack a small flashlight, nodding his head. “Go find us some more firewood, will you? It’s gonna be a long one.”

The look in Jack’s eyes told her that this conversation wasn’t over yet and honestly Peggy was looking forward to that.

“You know he’s going to think that you’re only protecting me because of Steve,” she sighed, shrugging his arm off as they walked back towards the distant camp. “Thank you, Bucky, but I can handle myself against Agent Thompson. It’s not the first time he’s been a right ass to me.”

“I know,” he grumbled, satisfyingly stomping on a branch to break it in half. “Steve has told us some things. He almost seems jealous of your connection to us - like you spend a whole war keeping our asses alive and you wouldn’t want to befriend us. Jackass. I think he’s waiting for us or you to slip up. They still think Steve’s a frozen capcicle?”

Snorting, Peggy gently smacked the sniper’s chest. “Yes but don’t let him hear you say that. Where is he?” She was used to being professional, keeping Steve at arm’s length in company but the fact he wasn’t around for her to assess with her eyes made her wary. If something had happened, they would’ve said something by now, especially Big Brother Barnes.

Bucky’s tongue clicked on the roof of his mouth, shrugging his shoulders. “He’s close by. He wanted to keep an eye tag tailing us, be sure we’re not being followed.”

That did sound like Steve, alright. He wanted to defend all of them, keep an eye on the stragglers, and be sure no one was planning an attack. Peggy got the feeling he kept distance because neither of them was sure this charade of professionalism could be kept up if he was here. Then there were the SSR boys and their belief Steve was dead.

“So how are you here?” Li asks, breaking the soft chatter that had been happening around the fire.

Peggy swallowed the rest of the bourbon down, passing the canister back to Dugan. She didn’t need to see who Li was directing the question to, she could feel Bucky tensing up beside her. He’d been a little tense since Jack stomped back into camp, dumping the mood uncermonsely and sitting far back away from them.

“Yeah, Buck, how are you here?” Juniper snickered, nudging his friend with his elbow. “You kinda just showed up one day.”

“And you adopted me like the straggly, little pup that I am,” Bucky huffed, rolling his eyes. “Thanks for the scrap, Carter.”

He nudged her slightly but behind the bright silver eyes and the need to make jokes and defuse the situation, he saw the curiosity in Li’s eyes.

“It’s just...we all read the reports. You died. You fell off the train,” Li pressed, not reading the situation. “So, how are you here?”

Sharing a look with Peggy, Bucky shrugged again. He opened his mouth but Dugan spoke up before any of them could. He knew of Bucky’s time in HYDRA, they all did, they had pulled him out of HYDRA, but he didn’t need to relive the past because of some curious agent who couldn’t tell his left from his right. Certainly not one who didn’t bother to spend two seconds respecting Peggy.

“We found him,” Dugan grunted. “What those files didn’t tell you was Phillip’s, Captain Rogers’, and Agent Carter’s insistence on finding Barnes’ body. No one can survive a fall like that, but God above decided Barnes was too annoying to let die. And the fact he still owes me ten bucks.”

They all laughed because it wasn’t far from the truth. She watched Bucky sigh in relief and Dugan clasping his arm in solitude as he passed by them to dig through the bags.

“He only fell because Captain Rogers couldn’t hold on. Bet that guy rather polish his shield and shiny belt buckle -”

“You want to say something?!” Bucky snapped, the almost relaxed atmosphere had turned tense as he turned to glare at Thompson who had been sulking on the edge of the camp. “If you got something to say about Captain Rogers, then say it.”

“James,” Peggy breathed, squeezing his arm. “Let Jack be if he wishes to express his dislike of Captain Rogers, that is on him. Not for you to fight everyone who sees’s fit to voice their negative opinion.”

Not that she didn’t want to sock Jack in the jaw for that comment. Bucky’s death had torn through Steve, it ripped out any part of him that remained human, that clung to humanity. He was a changed man from that day on. He was reckless, rash, and only survived because she interveined and made him see that he was human, serum, or not.

Bucky grunted as he sat back on the log and shoved his half-eaten bowl of stew at Peggy’s feet. “Eat. I ain’t hungry. I’m gonna go take a piss and set up for the first watch.”

There was no point in arguing. Jack had sullied what had almost promised to be a relaxing night [as relaxing as they could get in this environment]. She laid out her bedroll after being sure the surrounding area was clear. She almost hoped she could see Steve. Almost.

“If Barnes is alive, any chance of Rogers being alive?” She heard Rameriz whisper to Li as her head laid on the pillow.

“A crash like that? There’s no tellin’. Barnes was extremely lucky but I dunno...fall from that height? You’ve seen the tracks…”

Their voices faded as Peggy listened to the sound of footsteps near her. She opened her eyes to see Bucky above her, thanking him as he laid an extra blanket over her before silently nodding and dawning his rifle. She would argue with him over him getting rest later, right now, she was exhausted and selfishly wanted to sleep.

In the morning, a fresh wave of snow had covered any tracks that surrounded the camp. It blanketed around them and put out their fire in the middle of the night. Despite the fresh snow, Peggy could see faint outlines of thick boots that stood near her bedroll and as she sat up, waking up before anyone else in the dark forest, she felt something heavier fall off of her than just the extra blanket.

A thick jacket that was too big for Bucky and even Dugan.

Steve had been by.

Unfortunately, the new jacket didn’t bypass anyone, not even a blurry-eyed Thompson.

“Whose coat is that?” He grumbled to her as they packed their bags for the mission ahead. “I didn’t see anyone wearin’ that last night.”

“It’s mine,” Jones grunted, passing Peggy to take the extra layer from her shoulders with a small nod from her. “Does it matter, Agent?”

“No,” the man grunted, a frown still on his lips. She knew what he was thinking - she was far too comfortable with the Commandos. When they got back to the office, this would bite her in the ass, she was sure of it, not that it stops her. “Just curious, is all. Not like Carter to wear a man’s coat. Thought it might’ve been her sweetheart.”

Peggy made a face, throwing her bag harder than necessary over Thompson’s shoulder and towards the pile they made for the jeeps. “The only sweetheart I have is my gun, Agent. Now if you’re done worrying about my lack of love life, we need to get moving if we want to use the snow to cover our tracks.”

“Don’t blame me, you’re the topic of gossip when it comes to office blabber,” he snickered, raising his hands in mock defeat even when Peggy rolled her eyes.

“If you must know,” Montgomery spoke up as Peggy stalked away to join Dugan and Bucky pouring over a map. “She’s all our sweethearts. Try having that for Valentine’s Day.” His wink didn’t go unnoticed nor did Peggy slapping his hand away and arguing with Bucky over an advantage point.

Jack huffed out in annoyance. This was his lead and Commandos or not, he was taking back control.

Peggy could feel the tension building up in her jaw, resisting the urge to rub at it. She could feel it twitching out of tension from clenching her jaw so tightly her teeth might snap in half. It was the only way she could distract herself from not wanting to yell at Jack who ‘stepped up to the captain’s plate’ and started to give orders.

Any argument had been instantly shut down with the argument that he was in charge, reminding Peggy of an older kid in charge of his little siblings. Any argument was useless when Jack was determined that he was right and they were wasting precious time.

“Barnes, keep a distance with that gun. Carter, you’re in the rear. Keep a lookout.”

The order made her roll her eyes at the back of Jack’s head. No matter how much he tried to take control of the situation, to put on his best I’m in charge voice, he was no Steve and had very little regard for people’s safety. Just the end task ahead of getting them in and out with the Doctor in tow.

It was a bad idea, but fine, if he wanted to stick her in the back to keep out of his hair, then she’d easily take this opportunity to keep away from him. Dugan and Jack lead them and despite Bucky was somewhere in the trees pretending to be a spider monkey, Jones fell into step beside her. Despite his larger size than her, he was quiet. He was the more reserved out of all of them.

“You could stay,” he mused softly, nodding his head to Dugan’s bowler cap. “We could always do with you back in our lead. Especially that one. God knows Steve misses you, Pegs. You’re much better off here than with these jackasses.”

A small smile twitched on Peggy’s pale lips, adjusting her hold on the gun. “I know, Gabe, thank you. I do miss you guys. It’s not against you or even Steve, I am needed back on stateside. Maybe I’ll consider the offer another time.”

He laughed, the laugh rumbling in his chest like promised thunder. “Perhaps that is best, hm? Steve needs to rest anyhow and if you were with us, he’d be far too worried about you, no matter how much he denies it.”

Peggy’s reply was lost to the sound of something falling in the forest. Something heavy. James. “Bucky!”

There’s no way Bucky could miss these branches, they practically made a sturdy bridge. He had sure enough footing but the sound of a bullet whizzing past her was enough to tell her he’d been shot at. “Gabe, disperse the others. Spread out. They’re-” She looked up when another flew past her, seeing movement in the trees. “They’re spread out. Treetops. Below. Take cover. I’m going after James.”

There was no point in arguing with her, the Commandos knew that well. She slid in the snow to avoid the flying bullets, using the shelter of the thick trunks to get to where the figure laid. He was breathing, grunting in that manner that told her he was in pain but he was alive.

“James,” she breathed, dropping to her knees. “Hey, hey, look at me. Can you walk? We need to get out of here.”

The man’s eyes were glazed over, most likely a concussion but he was no stranger to those. He nodded his head and moved to sit up, moving his left arm to grab at the gun. They both watched as it just twitched, the arm not responding to his movements. In the limited light of the rising sun, she saw the nasty break in his arm and his green complexion.

“If you vomit on me, James, I will be very cross with you. I’m going to splint this best I can with what we have, then we need to move. You can curse me out on the way, deal?”

She’d take that grunting as a yes.

Using the strap from both her gun and Bucky’s, cut with a knife, she placed his broken arm between two sturdy pieces of branches. It wouldn’t do for a permanent fix but it was better than nothing. Bucky did his best not to curse or shout in pain, hearing him whimper and gag. By the time she was done, he looked like he was about to vomit up their cold breakfast. Throwing his good arm over her shoulder, she steadied his weight to lead them into the denser forest.

“Carter! Where the hell have you been?!”

Jack almost seemed worried, but Peggy didn’t have time to consider it, dropping Bucky down on an overturned log. She was sweaty and pissed, worried. The bullets had stopped coming. That never stopped unless ordered to. They’d been found. This was going to make it all the more difficult.

“Getting Barnes before we let him die from your carelessness. His arm is broken. Dugan, any casualties?” She breathed a sigh of relief when the man shook his head. “Good. They’re still out there. How long have they been quiet?”

Jack’s jaw gritted as he looked down at his watch. “Three, four minutes now. Why?”

“I’m going to handle them before they expose us any more. We’ll be lucky if we’re not met with retaliation at the door.” Snatching her gun back, Peggy stood up, taking Bucky’s and laying it in his lap. “You’re still a decent shot even without your arm.”

She got maybe two yards away, returning to the trail before Jack ran up to her.

Jack’s hand snatched her rifle from her, his temple throbbing now. “You will not! That’s exposing yourself and us to danger, letting them know we’re holed up here. We don’t even know where we are, we ran off the trail because of them. We need to spread back out, find the trail. We’re sitting ducks.”

“All the more reason for me to go into the trees, Agent.”

Peggy tried to snatch her gun back, a bullet striking the trunk next to her head. Her breath lingered in the air for a split second, jerking her head back out of shock. She pushed Jack out of the way when she heard the next one, preparing to feel another bullet tear through her body. Her eyes closed, body tensed, but no pain came.

Her eyes opened when she heard the gasps, seeing a familiar figure dressed in a dark blue suit and holding up the end of a shield. He towered over her, using his larger body to shield her from the spray of bullets.

“Everyone out!” Steve snapped, waving his hand. “Agent Thompson, get your ass off of the ground and help Pinky with those explosives. One stray bullet and we don’t have to worry about who’s in charge. Dugan, Jones, get Bucky and get him on his feet. Dugan, give him a splash of your liquid courage. Buck, three, six, and nine o’clock, are the worst of our fire. I’ve taken most of what I could out. Morita, Montgomery, and Juniper, you get these SSR boys further in the woods. Thanks to your little leadership, Agent Thompson we will now have to wait for nightfall and pray we’re not found.”

If anyone had any questions about his skills, to what Steve wanted, no one questioned it. Everyone instantly charged into action.

Steve’s arm wrapped around Peggy’s waist, holding her close for a fraction of a second too long as he set her back on her feet. “You were hit,” he murmured, baby blue eyes that she’s forgotten how soft they were looking down at her shoulder. “Grazed.” He touched the wound and she flinched, having been unaware a bullet had been that close to her torso. “I’m fine, Steve. I can handle it once we can breathe.” She paused, watching Dugan pick Bucky up and raise the rifle in his direction before firing. They made a good team, odd, but good.

“We need to get going too, can’t be on Thompson’s bad side, now can I?” Steve mused, raising his brow in a way that told Peggy he didn’t care regardless. “I got my bike. We can lead them on a wild goose chase while they escape. You ready?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“He’s alive?”

The words were spat at her when she’d later arrived at their makeshift camp miles and miles into the dense forest. Peggy calmly dismounted from the bike with Steve’s help even if she didn’t need it. She wanted the excuse to feel his hand in hers while she ignored Jack’s bulging look.

“Thank you, Captain Rogers, for the assistance and ride,” Peggy hummed giving Steve a polite nod and a firm smile. She turned back to Jack while he started to unpack the bike, rolling her eyes. “Unless we are suffering from the same hallucination, then I will dare say that yes, he is alive. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get this wound looked at.”

At least the man had enough sense to let her brush by him, still standing and looking after her and Steve in shock.

Steve was ever the gentleman as he rolled Peggy’s sleeve down, enough for her to pull her arm out of the sleeve. It was cold in their little spot in the dense woods, not wanting to risk lighting a fire. Bucky was already asleep despite the rough ground beneath them, his head in Pinky’s lap. His arm was set in a better-made splint, but still rough for their situation.

“This is going to burn,” Steve murmured, pouring a little alcohol on her wound. She hissed in pain and ignored the looks she and Steven were getting. This was strictly professional despite how she was straining to not jump his bones right then and there. “I warned you.”

“Seconds before pouring,” she huffed. “Though, I suppose a little pain is needed to be kept in my senses.”

If Steve had anything to say, it was lost to Jack coming back into camp and sitting beside Li. He rubbed his hands together, blowing hot air between them. “It’s going to be a cold one,” he grunted. “We’ll need to watch in shifts, two per shift, we-”

“We’ve already planned that,” Dugan grunted, his mustache ruffled as he tossed his bowler hat on their bags. Or what was left of them. “Pinky and Li are taking the first shift while we all rest. Yes, that includes you, Steve.” He pointed his thick finger threateningly at Steve’s chest who just pouted at him. “You need to sleep. Pegs, tell him.”

“Yeah, Carter,” Ramirez snickered, “tell him.”

Rolling her sleeve back up and adjusting the gauze, she thanked Steve in a small voice. “Captain Rogers isn’t a child. He doesn’t need to be told what to do but if you’d like my advice, Captain, sleep while you can.” Her eyes told him the rest before I make you.

She wanted to comment on his appearance, the rugged stubble from his lack of shaving, the longer hair that was starting to sweep off of his forehead. His eyes looked almost hallow, black bags underneath causing the blue to stand out. He looked like complete shit, a hallow version of himself and it ached at Peggy’s heart.

“This stays between us,” Steve grunted to the SSR boys while their bedrolls were rolled out. “No one else needs to know I’m alive.”

“Did you rescue him?” Li asked, in awe, if not astonished whisper as he turned to look at Peggy. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“That’s above your pay grade,” she snapped back, watching Steve kneel by Bucky’s passed out form and tenderly hold his face in hands that seemed almost far too big. She wanted to say more, the more pity part of her that wanted to dig her elbow into the man’s chest and tell him she shouldn’t have to be involved with his hero to have some decent respect.

“Hm,” Jack grunted from where he slouched against an overturned log, “I can see who was on top in this relationship.”

It was clear Jack wore a chip on his shoulder. He had some resentment out for Steve and maybe that’s because he favored her, despite how he tried not to show it. He turned to look at Peggy for advice, not Jack who was once again trying to say he was in charge. He asked Peggy about the situation or would ask Dugan or Li, literally anyone but Jack unless he had to.

This little petty game kept up for two days where they traveled under the cover of night.

Steve had kept his distance as they planned, but they couldn’t help it when the Howlies left just enough room in their camps to sit side by side or when it was Peggy’s turn to take a watch, Steve would find himself awake even if it wasn’t his turn to watch with her. Or his bedroll would be close to hers. They’d find small ways to touch one another and even that got under Jack’s skin.

Due to Bucky being out of commission thanks to the broken arm, it was left up to Peggy. No one objected but Jack’s temple throbbed as Peggy easily took the rifle and lined herself up with a perfect shot of their guard. She silently laid on a few sharp and frozen rocks that were set above them, stomach pressed to the ground and breathing slowly.

One snide comment from Li or Jack had gotten to her, but not her aim. The bullet flew from the rifle and the man guarding the roof fell into a heap. Steve’s hand closed around hers as she was guided off of the icy rocks, the snow crunching underneath her feet.

“Nice!” Bucky breathed, shrugging the left shoulder. “Though, you still twitch your foot when you’re about to pull the trigger.”

“I’ll show you where I twitch my foot if you start that,” Peggy snapped, much to Bucky’s grinning face. “Satisfied?”

The last words were said to Jack, his nose wrinkled just ever so slightly as if to say let’s see.

“Everyone has their plan then?” Steve grunted, looking down at the map. “Three teams. Li, Jones, Montgomery, and Bucky to the west end. Double-check the boiler rooms, any nooks, and cranny. Juniper, Peggy, Pinky, Morita, and Ramirez to the east. Spread out. The rooms look to be larger and some have hidden doorways. Jack, Dugan, and I will take the top floors. We’ll meet in the middle in an hour. Jones, Peggy, and I have our radios, use it only if in trouble.”

“Yeah, Dugan, only if in trouble,” Morita laughed, elbowing the broad man. “Not when we think we’re hearing screaming.”

At Li’s confusing look, Dugan rolled his eyes. His cheeks flushed a soft pink. “It was a frog that I heard. Cap, can we go?”

Peggy caught Steve’s eyes as he rolled up the map. There was no bother hiding the fact that he did this on purpose, separating them to just get alone time with Jack. She raised an eyebrow at him and he sheepishly shrugged his shoulders.

“Steve, let’s go,” Bucky grunted, smacking Steve on the side with the splint and regretting it with a whimper.

Pinky’s arm threw around Peggy’s shoulder as their groups dispersed, leaning far too much into her frame. Not that she minded. Pinky always had a lingering smell of gunpowder on his fingers. “How much you wanna bet he’s gonna make Jack’s death look like an accident?”

“If Steve isn’t rash? He won’t. But then again...I’m afraid he’s never made a not-so-rashed decision in his life.”

Watching the love of your life fall to the floor in front of you seconds after he’s sacrificed himself yet another time to save you changes a person. There’s no radio this time. No radio, no signal blocking them, no interference, no cut-off, and left wondering. She’s staring down at Steve, her heart in her throat. It all happened in a split second, but the second he hits the floor, she’s in action.

A hand is tearing off the bottom of her uniform, pressing it over the bleeding wound where the bullet has embedded itself into Steve’s thigh

He groans at the contact and grits his teeth. “Is this revenge from the alcohol?”

“You wish,” Peggy grunts, keeping her eyes focused on the bleeding wound. She steadied her breathing despite the anxiety welling up inside of her. She wanted a second chance at keeping Steve safe and god damnit, she was going to take it.

The forces of God would not take Steve from her. She’d be damned if they did.

“Dugan,” she snapped into the radio. “We need to extract. Now.”

Her head snapped up at the sound of thundering steps, snatching Steve’s discarded shield to block his body, still pressing on the wound with all her might. She’d never thought she’d be so relieved to see Jack’s pale face. The man looked sick.

“You-you-shit.” His eyes nearly bulged out of his head at the sight of the bloodied rags in Peggy’s hand. “Carter, you’re hurt.”

“No,” she huffed. “But Steve is.”

“Fuck.” As if that was somehow worst and yeah, she had to agree it was, even if Steve wasn’t agreeing with it. He was still gritting his teeth and trying to sit up, trying to catch his breath.

“Come here, alright? I need you to put pressure on his wounds.” The guy was in shock and any amount of distraction to keep his hands busy was better than him standing in shock.

With Jack putting pressure on Steve’s wound and the Captain finally stopping his fight, Peggy got back on the radio. She was starting to become frantic, watching Steve’s face pale and Jack was starting to fluster. “Dum-Dum if you don’t answer me right this instant - Steve is hurt. We need extra-”

Her answer came in typical Howling Commando fashion - an explosion on the far wall. The ground shook beneath her, the ceiling threatened to cave in right in that instance. Everyone was piled into the back of the jeep, a crowd of people rushing forward to help her get Steve up to his good foot and rush him back towards the jeep.

“Get Jack,” she snapped at Pinky. “Make sure he doesn’t hurt himself. He’s in shock - have Montgomery give him those tabs.”

Getting a groaning Steve laid out on the floor of the jeep, Peggy laid Steve’s head in her lap. She didn’t give a damn who saw. She was tired, grungey, sick to her stomach with worry for the shivering Captain.

The fact he wasn’t speaking, arguing with her told her the amount of pain he was in.

Bucky and Jones were already on the wound, Steve’s face pinching as his pants were ripped open.

“Steve,” Peggy whispered, stroking her hand through her hair with a soft smile. “Look at me.” Her hand cupped his jawline, the pad of her thumb stroking a scar he’d earned from a shaving incident a few years ago. His blue eyes fell on hers, gritting his teeth and holding her hand when Jones started to dig the bullet out.

“This is r-revenge for...for something,” he grunted, gripping the floor of the jeep tightly. “Fuck, you coulda just talked to me, Pegs.”

Peggy chuckled, only to keep herself from crying. Stress. The strain on them. She was thankful when the jeep emptied once they’d reached their pickup point. An abandoned airport where a plane waited for them.

“Sometimes it’s easier to let others talk for me.” She bent her head down, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s lips. His felt so cold against hers.

Hearing a clearing of a throat, she looked beyond the pair at Steve’s feet, to Jack. He was still pale and shaken, but there was life back to his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “I didn’t see anything,” he mumbled. “I was just warning you that wheels up in ten.” He hesitated around the jeep, frowning before he was gone.

“Want me to go hunt him down?” Bucky grunted, pulling back from Steve’s bloodied thigh with alcohol in hand. “For sport?”

A fond smile tugged on Peggy’s lips. There was that Big Brother Barnes quality. “As much as that would solve many of my problems, darling, I can handle myself. Jones, you heard the man, what’s the verdict on Steve’s leg?”

Gabe’s small smile tugged on his lips as he pulled back, wrapping the gauze tighter around the wound. “You’re...rather lucky, Steve. There’s no permanent damage, but given your exhaustion and our lack of supplies, you will be slow to heal. You should head back stateside to get some proper R&R, have the wound properly treated. We did what we could, but no promises.” He clicked his tongue, his fingers pointing to Bucky’s chest. “And you are going with him. You got a broken arm.”

Bucky’s full lips pulled into a pout but underneath it, Peggy could see him vibrating. “What a shame that I broke my arm from a jackass’s decision.”

“Are you sure you guys can afford to lose them?” Peggy asked, gently laying Steve back down as she climbed out of the back. “We can send extra men to make up for them.”

“If you staid we wouldn’t need to worry about it,” Dugan mused, tapping on the side of the jeep. “But you’re needed elsewhere to keep those jerks in line. And make sure this one doesn’t try to run a marathon through Brooklyn on that leg.”

“Not much of a runner,” Steve grunted, letting himself be pulled up. He set his weight on his good leg, letting Jones and Dugan pull him to his feet.

As Steve was being put onto the plane, Peggy heaved a soft sigh as she turned back to Dugan. The hug from him was everything she missed - the bear hug that reminded her some things were worth savoring. Pulling away, he patted her cheek and grinned under that thick mustache.

“You keep our boys in line, won’t you? We can’t lose ‘em again,” he grumbled, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “And keep yourself safe. We’ll get to the bottom of this. We’re just one call away, Pegs.”

“Of course I will,” she mused. “Someone needs to. And thank you, Dugan. You’re a life savior. Literally. I’ll miss you.”

Sitting back between Steve and Bucky, Peggy could feel like she could breathe for the first time in a while. Steve was going to be okay. He might need longer rest than others, but he’d be okay. Dugan was wiring the information to Phillips as they spoke. Her head rested against the wall, feeling Steve’s hand tighten in hers in his light slumber. Against her shoulder, Bucky was snoring.

“Marge.” Her name made her eyes open to see Jack in front of her. Her body tensed, coiled, and posed, ready to fight because her boys were in her lap and exhausted, hurt. What more could he want?

“Yes, Agent Thompson? I was hoping we could get some shut-eye before we touched land.”

“I won’t keep you long. You’re...busy.” His eyes fell to Steve, watching the man’s face twitch in her lap. “I wanted to thank you for...assisting me back there. Any other person would’ve left me to my own devices, especially after the decisions I’ve made. You didn’t, you were the bigger person and I’m...thankful.”

Well, that’s the last thing Peggy expected to hear from Jack’s lips. An apology and him expressing how thankful he was for her? Well, that was rare. “It wouldn’t be fair for you to die because you were in shock. I’m glad you’re okay.”

His head bobbed, Steve grunting making him flinch slightly. He still wasn’t 100% okay. “I’ll leave you to it. What I saw...I won’t tell anyone.”

“Good,” Peggy huffed, letting her head rest on the wall and close her eyes. “Because I’d hate to have to kill you because you decided to be stupid.”

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Agent Carter #Iron Ceiling #This is rushed out #And horrible #And I am so sorry #But its done #7k!!!#Steggy Prompt #gardenroses1

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blkmxrvel · 6 years ago

Text

To Kree or Not To Kree

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Romanoff!Reader; Natasha Romanoff x LittleSister!Reader; Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff (brief but there!)

Words: 2222

Request: May I please request a Carol Danvers x fem!reader where the reader is really affectionate, but Carol isn’t really cuddly because she’s not used to physical contact? Like, the reader really always wants to kiss/hug Carol but doesn’t cuz she doesn’t want to make Carol uncomfortable? But when Carol initates small bits of affection, like hand holding, the reader gets really happy, and it kinda makes Carol guilty cuz C feels like she doesn’t give R enough love. Sorry if this is confusing I❤u!!!

Summary: You want touch, Carol doesn’t. Carol loves you, you love Carol more. Natasha stands up for her little sister.

Warnings: Carol is a bit of an asshole but means no harm, Natasha is a #mamabear. Angst-ish, but fluffy nonetheless.

A/N: what????? madi managed to post a request???? bitch ik! im sorry it’s taken me so long I was in a bit of a rut there! but iam back and I really like this one. I sorta kinda tried a new writing style? If yall like it lmk. Enjoy!

Everyone says opposites attract, and with you and Carol, it’s quite obvious.

You’re the kind of person who thrives off of human contact and affection. You love anything that involves contact, hugging, holding hands, high fives, cuddling, the whole 9 yards. It’s what gave you the euphoric feeling that everyone craves.

Carol is literally the exact opposite. She stays away from physical contact as much as possible

She doesnt understand the need for it, she wants her space. She doesnt need to….interlock fingers with yours to prove that she loves you. She may have been human, but technically, her wiring was still Kree.

And do you really think they allowed measly… mortal things like hugging and cuddling to slide?

…

That’s what I thought.

You never made a big deal out of it, though. You knew that was just Carol, and you didn’t wanna be the kind of girlfriend that always nags and is never satisfied.

Don’t get me wrong. You’ve tried. Like that once time at the pier.

It was date night, you and carol, and Natasha and Wanda. It was group date:movie on the beach followed by street food and a walk on the pier.

“Group photo!” Everyone huddled together as Natasha stretched her arms to hey everyone in the photo.

You stood by your girlfriend smiling wide, you took a regular photo and then a silly one. You saw Wanda stand on her tiptoes to kiss Natasha on her cheek, so you figured you would do the same to Carol.

I mean…Natasha sure as hell got a kick out of it. And you and Carol were just as much in love and they were.

So, standing on your toes when Natasha went to take another picture, you pressed your lips to Carol eyes.

Big mistake.

Carol froze up, you could’ve sworn she was about to have a seizure with how tense her body got.

“You alright?” Thinking that you crossed a boundary.

“Yeah, Babe. I’m fine.”

You brushed it off and told yourself you were overthinking.

But you weren’t.

For the rest of the night, Carol basically avoided any contact with you, she didnt hold your hand, kiss you on your forehead. None of it.

You chalked it up to her maybe not being comfortable with PDA. You could get with that, I mean…it makes sense. She grew up in a time where people weren’t so open about two women loving each other, and a lot of people today still aren’t it made sense.

But then….Carol not only didn’t show you affection outside, but inside as well.

Everytime you initiated a cuddle session, she would always make some lame excuse “oh, it’s too hot” or “you’re crushing my bladder baby” and she would always play it off.

That happened a lot, like a lot, a lot.

So eventually, you let it go. You didn’t try to hug her, or hold her when she had a bad day. You knew she wasn’t going to hold up or rub your back if you came back from a particularly bad mission that left you with a nightmare. You knew that you weren’t ever going to have that. But you loved Carol, so you were able to deal.

Not being able to be intimate (not sexually) with the one person you loved most took a toll on you, of course it did.

Everyone could see it, especially Natasha.

Nat was your big sister, she was always the one who noticed even the smallest bit of a change in you.

So you bet your bottom dollar that Natasha heard the sigh you let out when she hugged you longer than usual.

This past mission was….brutal, to say the least. You had made it out by the skin of your teeth, broken toe and bruises and scratches everywhere, but alive nonetheless.

Of course, Carol was relieved that you were alive…and she told you that. But sometimes actions speak louder than words. All she gave you was a little smile and peck on the lips. There was no bruising kiss, bone crushing hug. But, you were used to it.

Natasha though, quite the opposite.

As soon as she saw you, her little sister, walk through the compound doors, she gave you the biggest hug.

All you could do was hug back, let out the biggest sigh, and with that came tears. It had been so long since you’d been hugged so passionately. Since someone’s love for you was shown through body movements and physical contact.

Natasha noticed how you were reluctant to pull away, and how when you did. You looked drained, albeit refreshed.

She knew the mission was tough but this was something else. She knew how you looked when it’d been awhile without physical reassurance.

“When was the last time Carol gave you a hug? Held you? Anything?”

And when you couldn’t give a solid answer let alone a recent one, Natasha was ready to rip off a head. You calmed her down of course, saying how it was okay, but She wasn’t having it.

“Why don’t you just tell her how much hugging and affection means to you? You don’t deserve this.” Natasha huffed and crossed her eyes, eyes sad eyes looking into yours.

“Because it’s who she is, Nat.” You tried to explain. “She doesn’t do hugs or late night cuddles. That’s just her.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Yeah? Well you do hugs, and kisses and holding hands and late night cuddles. That’s just who you are. Why are you the only sacrificing and making changes to who you are, when she’s living fine and dandy?” She threw her hands up, eyes wide and expectant with anger.

“Why is she perfectly sane and you’re losing your mind, hell yourself? And why the fuck didn’t you tell me about this earlier?”

Natasha was pissed yes, but it was coming from a place of love. And you knew you needed to hear it.

“I- I don’t know. I just love her and I didn’t wanna make her uncomfortable.”

She sighed. Placing her hands on your arms, rubbing up and down. You smiled. “That’s not love, Y/N/N. You can love Carol all you want, but you don’t love yourself if you’re willing to allow yourself to be hurt like this.”

Natasha was right, she knew that. And she also knew that you weren’t going to say anything to Carol directly. So she took upon herself, as she should.

You slept in between Natasha and Wanda that night. Sandwiched in between your two favorite people family members. Don't…. Don’t tell Tony that.

The next morning, Carol jumped up at the sound of banging against her door. It was still dark outside, she didn’t even hear birds chirping yet. Who in the world could that be?

“I don’t care if your decent or not Danvers, I’m coming in.”

The door opened and in walked Natasha romanoff, still in her pajamas, but a wicked look on her face. She sat in the chair facing Carol’s bed, faced hardened and eyes raging.

“Nat what the-”

“We need to talk about Y/N.”

Carol’s eyes widened, sitting up immediately. “I- Is she alright?”

“No, thanks to you.” Natasha raised her eyebrows, attitude spewing from her body language. Spicy.

“What are you talking about?” Carol rubbed her eyes, it was too early to be dealing with yelling and accusations.

“Why haven’t you hugged her? Or kissed her? Or held her after her worst missions? Or told her it was going to be alright when she wakes up screaming from nightmares? Because I’m sure she does. We all do. But unlike Y/N, we have someone to calm us down and make is feel safe? Do you even love her?”

Carol scrunched her eyebrows up at that. “Of course I love her why are you asking that?”

“Are you sure?” Natasha tilted her head. “Because if you did, you would see how tired and sad she looks. How all she wants is a hug and kiss everyone once and a while from her girlfriend! How she just wants to hold your hand when you pass through crowds because they make her nervous and she doesnt want to get lost!”

Carol stuttered. What was Natasha talking about?

“She wants to feel loved. Because actions speak damn louder than words. And you telling Y/N that you love her means nothing if she doesn’t feel it.”

Natasha is pacing around the room now, rage fueling her words. This was for her sister.

“God. She sacrificed the one thing that grounds her the most because you are ‘comfortable’ with physical contact.” Air quotes. “Well too damn bad, Danvers. Sometimes we gotta feel uncomfortable to make the one we love comfortable. And it isn’t even unreasonable, its human! And before you spew that Kree bullshit at me, you have your memories back, and all the feelings that come with it. You know what it’s like. Y/N hasn’t been hugged or held in weeks. She thrives on that. That’s why she probably almost died! Because she just couldn’t think, her body didn’t have enough energy, enough…love to get out of their sooner.” Natasha wiped her eyes, red and puffy eyes before looking at her sisters girlfriend. Her voice cracked all through her rampant speech.

“So before you say, you love her. Do you actions show it? She may be here now, might he huffing it and powering through. But a person can only handle so much before they break. And I’ll be damned if I let you break my sister. So shape up, or ship out, Danvers. My sister comes first.”

And with that…Natasha was gone.

Wow.

Carol just sat in her bed, hair still messy and eyes red and teary.

What kind of girlfriend was she? Natasha was 100% right. She didnt give you enough love, and she feels like a complete ass for not caring. She knew what she needed to do.

The rest of the day went as Normal. You had no idea about the whole Natasha/Carol debacle. And it stayed that way.

You woke up, in a….surprisingly not empty bed. Natasha and Wanda were at your sides, trying to hold in their giggles as they watched TV to not wake you.

Spoiler alert: didnt work.

Natasha asked how you’re feeling, to which you said “better than ever.” They both frowned at that answer. They didn’t even want to ask when was the last time you and Carol slept in the same bed.

You all went your separate ways. It was Sunday, you had training and a debriefing to prepare yourself for. But you needed to shower first. Mentally, you were refreshed, being squished because two bodies and snug like a bug in a rug really gave your mind a boost.

You were sad that it wasn’t Carol on either side of you, but you didn’t dwell too much on it. Not a good idea to think too much.

You walked towards your room, turning the knob to get your things to shower.

You nearly jumped when you saw a disheveled Carol on your bed. Red eyes and a look of pure guilt when she saw you.

“Carol, is everything alright?” She stood up and walked over to you. She played with her hands as she tried to find the right words.

“I just- I.” You reached out to place your hands onto Carol’s, immediately pulling your hands back when you registered just who was standing in front of you.

Carol broke at that. Tears now freely flowing from her eyes as she covered them with her hands.

“You’re scaring me, Car. What’s wrong?” She pulled her hands down and stared at you, the tears never stopping.

Suddenly, you felt yourself being pulled forward and warm, strong arms coming around your waist.

It was an odd feeling, a new one, and it took you a minute, but then you realized.

This is a hug, Carol is hugging you. Oh my god. This is the moment you’ve been waiting for.

You wrapped your arms around Carol’s middle, squeezing tightly as you laid your head on her chest. She squeezed harder, still crying, while words fell from her mouth.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’ve been the worst girlfriend ever. I put myself before you and I let you not put yourself first. I should’ve hugged you everyday, and kissed you on your forehead when you were sleepy and- and held your hand when were in crowds and let you lay on me when you were scared. I’m so sorry. You’re only human and I denied you of the one thing you needed most. Please forgive me.”

You didn’t let go of Carol, or say anything else. You just squeezed harder, your arms coming to wrapped around her neck, as she pulled your body even closer.

Tears sprang to your eyes when you felt her lips press to your forehead.

Was this a dream?

“This was all you wanted and I never gave it to you. You never go without it again I promise, I love you. I love you and I’m gonna show you. No more Kree Carol, Human Carol from now on.”

You placed a kissed on Carol’s neck, smiling when she sighed in relief.

This was all you wanted, and you finally got it. You’re only human.

#carol danvers #carol danvers x reader #carol danvers imagine #brie larson imagine #brie larson x reader #brie larson #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #captain marvel imagine #captain marvel #captain marvel x reader #wlw fanfic #wlw imagine #madi writes

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captain-kingliamsqueen · 5 years ago

Text

Matter of National Emergency- Liam x MC

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Summary: Liam and Riley are in Isolation in Valtoria...and one of them may succumbed to the almightly Tik Tok! <-- can you tell im bored?

Word Count: 1,667

Masterlist

ASK IF YOU WANT TAGGED! SORRY IF I MISSED ANYONE!

I always notice every single spelling mistake or issue after I’ve posted…so apologies in advance!

Tags aren’t working so I will be tagging in the comments.

Liam sighed as he entered his and rileys quarters at Valtoria, shutting the door behind him. It was just hitting seven o’clock when he returned from his last meeting. Liam and Riley loved coming to stay at Valtoria, it felt more like a home than the palace did, after they got married they stayed at the palace whilst they had some renovations at Valtoria done, they had the royal quarters basically turned into a reasonable sized apartment.

“hey, how was your meeting?” Riley called from the en-suite, she was just coming out as Liam had walked into the bedroom, she made her way over to him, moving to her tiptoes to press a kiss against his lips.

“it was…stressful” He sighed as he placed his hands on her lower back, nuzzling his head into her shoulder

“so…what happened? What’s the decision?”

“Lockdown, as I assumed would be the result, people aren’t listening to how serious this is, they don’t understand that the more they go out, the more people are going to catch this thing and more people are going to die from it, it’s really the only solution if people aren’t going to listen”

“I understand, so when are you announcing it”

“this evening, I’m going to shower and change then head to my office. ive sent everyone home, Bastian insists he is staying in Valtoria with us, so it’s just me, you and Bastian, he is currently setting up the camera for the live feed”

Once he showered, he dressed in a crisp white shirt and black dress pants with a blazer.

“I won’t be long my love” Liam smiled as he kissed Riley then headed out for his office.

Once Liam reached the conference room, he greeted Bastian then sat himself down at his desk across from the big camera sitting in front of the desk.

“is everything set up?”

“yes, your Majesty, you go live in just under a minute, your statement is written out for you, just in case you need it”

“thank you, Bastian,”

“alright, you go live in 10 seconds” Bastian informed him from behind the camera.

Liam quickly fixed his collar then straightened up. as soon as he seen the light change on the camera he began.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of Cordonia. This is an Emergency announcement from your King. As you all know the corona virus is sweeping the nation. last week I gave the orders to self-isolate if you are a vulnerable person, and many people did, but not all, a few days ago, I gave orders to shut all non-essential business’ and to stay home where possible but again not all listened so as your King, as your leader, I have decided that the best course of action is to go into lockdown, you must know, I hate that I have to do this but if people aren’t going to take this seriously then more people will become infected and more people will die. I am going to lay down some rules that every person in Cordonia MUST follow until further notice. Number one…you must only leave your homes if absolutely necessary, this means, if you need supplies such as food, essentials that you most definitely cannot live without! Number two, you may leave your homes for exercise, once a day for one hour! if you need medications, I have organised for all medications to be delivered to homes, if you need to see a doctor…call the helpline that is on the screen right now, you will speak to qualified nurses, if the nurse decides you should be seen in person, you will then be allowed to leave your home and attend a doctors surgery or hospital. All in all this means you should only be leaving your homes if absolutely necessary The sooner the public follow these rules, the sooner this will start to go away, I don’t want to see groups of kids walking around outside, meeting up with their friends, I don’t want to see people joining in groups for any reason what so ever. Queen Riley and myself are self-isolating along with you, we know it’s going to be hard, sitting in your homes, not able to go outside, when it’s lovely and warm or going to see your friends, but spend this time wisely, be with your family’s, spend time with your husbands, your wives, your children and your parents, time that you wouldn’t be able to spend with them if you were out working or at school, we have seen what this virus has done to other countries, please don’t let this vile virus take control, I wish you all the best, stay healthy.”

Once Liam finished, he bid Bastian goodnight then headed back to his and Riley's quarters. Once he entered, he shut the door behind him, making his way towards the kitchen where Riley was getting herself some water. Liam walked in, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

“hey, I was thinking we could go to bed and put a movie on?” she smiled sympathetically as she seen how tired he was.

“you know I think that’s the best idea ive heard all week” he smiled

The two made their way to the bedroom, they done their usual night-time routines of washing their faces, brushing their teeth and such then the two took themselves to bed. it didn’t take long before the two of them were out cold.

Liam woke to a giggle coming from beside him, he opened one of his eyes just enough to see the time on the alarm clock on his bedside table. 3:00 am. He groaned as he turned over to be blinded by the light from Riley's phone.

“what are you laughing at? Its 2am Riley.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t sleep” she laughed as she carried on watching the video on her phone.

“are going to sleep at all tonight?”

“yeah I’m just putting it down.” Riley pressed the screen off then placed the phone on her bedside table then shuffled over to Liam, she yawned as she cuddled into his chest causing him to instinctively wrap his arms around her. “I’m sorry I woke you up” she whispered before placing a kiss to his skin.

“It’s alright, sweetie” he placed a kiss on top of her head before the two fell into a deep slumber

The next morning Liam awoke to an empty bed, he frowned at the empty space that his wife should have been in, she had no reason so be up this early as the country was currently on lockdown, they had no meetings or obligations, they would have the odd conference call but that was it. He stretched as he removed the duvet and climbed from the bed, pulling a pair of lounge pants on before heading towards out of the bedroom.

“Riley sweetie?” he called when he didn’t see her in the living room.

“I’m in the kitchen”

“Morning beautiful what are you doing up?” Liam asked as he made his way to her wrapping his arms around her from behind as she finished fixing the mugs of tea she was making.

“I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep, I hardly slept a wink all night.”

“oh really?” he asked as he nuzzled his head into the crook of Riley's neck.

“yeah, hey I’m sorry I woke you up this morning, I feel awful.” She sighed as she passed him one of the mugs of tea

“I told you this morning and I’ll tell you again now, it’s fine, don’t worry about it” he replied as he gently pressed a kiss to her lips. “I love you” he added

“I love You too” she smirked, the two made their way into the living room where they curled up on the sofa whilst catching up with the morning news on the television.

“I don’t know who pissed 2020 off but whoever was I hope karma comes around and kicks them in the ass!”

“I’ll toast to that!” Liam chuckled as he tapped his mug against Riley's.

“hey…I heard a joke on tiktok last night, when I couldn’t sleep oh my goodness…what was it again?” Riley went quiet for a minute then started laughing “oh god that was it…”

Liam smirked at how funny she found the joke; he sipped his tea as she went on to tell him.

“so little johnny’s sitting in class and the teacher says she has a math problem for him, she says, if there’s 5 birds sitting on a wire and little johnny shoots one how many’s left? So little johnny says none, the teacher says no, the answers four and johnny says no, the answers none ‘coz If I shot one the rest would fly away, the teacher says, I like the way you think.”

Liam looked at Riley confused but laughing at Riley trying to get her words out in between laughing.

“okay…” he smirked

“little johnny says, I got a question for you, if there’s three women sitting in a store eating ice cream cones and one of them is licking it, one of the is sucking it and the other is biting it, which ones married…so the th-the teacher HAHA the teacher hesitantly replies, well I guess the one sucking it and little johnny…oh my god…” just as Liam took a drink of his tea Riley finished the joke, “little johnny goes no, the one with the wedding ring, but I like the way you think.”

Liam spat his tea out as he went to laugh, he chuckled as he wiped his chin where his tea ended up.

“is that why you were laughing this morning?”

“yeah” she chuckled

“that’s hilarious”

“what times your conference call?” Riley asked him

“1pm”

“okay, do you want to have lunch out on the balcony before your meeting, it’s supposed to be really nice out today”

“I would love to”

By the time half 12 hit Liam and Riley had just finished their lunch and were sitting outside on the balcony, just getting some fresh air.

“y’know even though the reason the countries on lock down is bad, I’m so happy we get to spend some time together and it’s not rushed or last minute, we can just sit and be together” Liam smiled as he took Riley's hand across the table.

“I totally get it, the reason behind it is bad, but the time we’re gonna get to spend together is a blessing and we can’t take it for granted.”

When it was time for Liam to go, they both headed inside, he placed a gentle kiss on Riley's lips then headed down to his office, whilst Liam was at his conference call Riley curled up on the sofa scrolling through her phone.

It was just a short 45 minutes later that Liam returned to the apartment, Riley had fallen asleep on the sofa, with Bash, their protective corgi, curled up sleeping at her feet. Liam decided to get some paperwork out of the way whilst, Riley was sleeping.

It was just after 5 when Riley woke, she heard Liam in the kitchen, so she got up and made her way to him. when she walked in her was stood boiling the kettle to make some tea. Riley approached him from behind wrapping her arms around his torso and cuddling into his back.

“I love you Liam” she whispered tiredly

“I love you too” he smiled as he turned into her hold, placing a kiss on her lips. “do you want a cup of tea?”

“that would be great” she smiled

“did you sleep well?”

“I did! Better than last night anyway”

Once Liam made the tea, he passed Riley one of the mugs then the two sat at the kitchen table with them.

“I found another funny tik tok” Riley grinned

“alright, hit me with it” Liam smirked

“so…there’s a family with a little boy, driving behind a trash truck on the highway, suddenly a vibrator flies out and hits their windshield. To try and save their sons innocence the woman goes, oh that was a huge bug! And the little boy goes, damn mom how does a bug fly with a dick that big!”

Liam nearly choked on his drink; he slapped his hand on the table as he threw his head back laughing. “damn, who do you even follow on this thing” he laughed

Riley climbed out of the shower, wrapping her towel around her, she dried herself off just as she went to lift the nightgown she had brought into the bathroom with her, she remembered she seen a trend of people walking out in front of their wife or husband naked to see what their reactions would be on tik tok, now of course, she wouldn’t be filming it but she knew it would be a lot of fun for the two of them, she smirked knowing what it will result in after Liam sees her. she walked out of the bathroom with her towel around her, she walked out of the bedroom and stood on the other side of the living room, Liam was sitting on the sofa with his back to her just about to finish up his call. Riley smirked as she unwrapped her towel, she slowly walked over towards the kitchen throwing the towel at Liam as she walked causing him to turn around. She smirked as she seen his face go from confused at the towel to his jaw dropping and nearly hitting the floor “damn baby” he mouthed as he watched her bare behind walking into the kitchen. She grabbed a glass of water to quench her thirst then as she turned around she seen Liam leaning over the end of the sofa so that he could see into the kitchen, Riley smirked with a wink as she headed into the room, swaying her hips as she walked past him, Liam stuck his arm out to stop her from going any further, he wrapped his arm around her legs gently pulling her closer to the sofa, he ran his hand up and down her leg.

“i-im…I’m sorry…I have to cut our conversation short” he quickly spoke into the phone. “I know but…it’s a matter of national emergency” he replied as he stood from the sofa, eyeing Riley's chest.

“ok…goodbye” he hung up then flung his phone onto the sofa with a grin on his face.

“are you ready?” he asked putting his hands on her waist as he leaned his head down, placing kisses along her jaw.

“ready for what, baby?” she sighed contently as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“for the wildest night of your life” he smirked as he reached down, hooking his arms at the back of her legs as he lifted her over his shoulder, receiving a happy squeal from her. He gently slapped her backside as he made his way to the bedroom with her.

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mojavehearts · 5 years ago

Text

Fallout 4 Companions react to Strong having a crush on Sole

(REQUESTED!!) (im cackling like a maniac already)

(I know I used this before but...This IS Sole and Strong)

some are them realising it and some are helping him come to the realisation (some of the reacts even work together as one!)

Cait:

Cait watched as Strong stomped back and forth in front of Soles house in Sanctuary, at 4 am, on a Sunday. ‘’Oi buddy! can ya quit yer stompin?’’ she whispers out angrily, putting out her cigarette onto the side of one of the small shacks sole built Strong grumbles under his breath which makes Cait come striding up ‘’what is your problem?!’’ she was trying her best to whisper at least ‘’Strong doesn’t know!’’ he roars back she covers her ears and sighs ‘’Listen big guy, people are tryin to sleep and they cant with you stompin around’’ Strong grumbles again and points at soles door ‘’Strong cant be without master’’ ‘’what you like a lost puppy or somethin’? yer supposed to be a big mean ol’ supermutant’’ Cait scoffs, now leaning against soles house ‘’NO Strong does not want to be, without master near him, makes Strong MAD!’’ Cait’s eyes widen and she backs away slowly ‘’good lord, you better talk to MacCready about that...’’

Curie:

‘’Ah monsieur Strong!’‘ Curie waves strong over in a chirpy tune ‘‘How have our experiments gone so far? any pain? some memories? violent tendencies more than usual?’‘ Curie had gotten some data from some ‘hospital’ of sorts from New Vegas and was testing the medication in does on Strong so far nothing was different of course Strong was already more ‘Put Together’ compared to many supermutants and it had been a very small dose, ‘‘No strong want stop, making head fuzzy! weak!’‘ Curie nods and checks her chart ‘‘When does this usually happen or is it all the time?’‘ Strong stomps his feet slightly ‘‘If Strong is near master it becomes fuzzy! want to stop! need to be strong and protect Master’‘ Curie stops writing down in her notes and freezes ‘‘Oh Mon dieu’‘

Codsworth:

Codsworth is what he calls ‘Smart for an old bot’ he knew from the get go, hes still full of old world ideals so he isn't to keen on it, considering supermutants are known as violent brutes as well, but he warmed up to Strong (well as much as one possibly could if they weren’t sole) and it became quite entertaining for him to watch over a cup of tea and a nice book (he makes the tea for show, sadly he cant drink it) as strong ‘somehow’ gets red when with Sole, it really makes Codsworth rethink many things

Danse:

Danse...Isn’t exactly a fan of supermutants in general, that's just the way he’s wired (haha get it...Ill go)

Strong would always try to size Danse up, whenever he would talk to Sole Strong would be there, either watching intensely with a violent glare or just interrupting whatever he could, so he went up to him and asked what his problem was, guessing it was because he used to be brotherhood and also because...Danse obviously wasn't a fan of him. Strong just stares him down and points a thick green finger to Danse’s chest poking it into him slightly ‘’Sole needs real man, not metal man’’ and walked off leaving Danse to be (the gif above)

Dogmeat:

You know that thing dogs do when they cover their eyes with their paws and or ears as well?...Yeah just that

Deacon:

One word nine letters Terrified

Deacon thought it was kinda cute at first when he would watch strong follow Sole around, in that scary sort of way...in that way where little girls sing ring around the rosy or your child stands beside your bed in the middle of the night and says nothing, but then he noticed things...different things, like how he would rarely let anyone else around Sole, and that one time where they went to the third rail and that person tried to hit on sole and he chucked a tantrum and set the third rail on fire and- OH MY GOD

Piper:

Piper was making her usual rounds around Diamond City, trying to question whoever she could about her new piece ‘’Mirelurks and their MireQuirks’’ when suddenly she saw strong browsing the general supplies store she was confused why he was here alone, things may have changed since Sole came into play but he might still get given a hard time, he scratches his chin and Piper moves closer to greet him ‘’Master friend, Strong need gift for Master, Master gave Strong milk of human kindness’’ Piper thought this was very normal in fact and did help him pick out something, but then he turned to her and said ‘’How do humans show ‘E fec tion’ ‘’ and she froze ‘’Oh wow buddy i’m not the one for that um...Maybe Nicky can help he was married once well- when he was- when he wasn't- wait was he him- yes of course- um - but its- well-’’ Strong had enough of her blubbering and scoffs already walking off to see valentine, Soles gift in hand. Piper breathes out and then in deeply but then starts laughing softly, it was kind of cute really, but she didn’t think Supermutants could feel ..Love?, Piper had already found a new, and better article idea. SCORE

Preston:

Preston sighs softly, wiping the sweat away from under his hat, taking it off to fan himself with it he noticed the ground rumbling slightly beneath him ‘’Strong that you?’’ Preston turns to the direction of the rumbles and places his hat back on, sure enough he was met with big green mean fighting machine, strong. ‘’You know master, what does master like, besides blood and fighting’’ Preston purses his lips in slight confusion an audible ‘huh’ leaving his throat ‘’Strong want say sorry for Third Rail on fire, Mack Ree Dee says I should show sorry with actions’’ Preston scratches the side of his face and stares at the ground for a minute ‘’why don't you go to diamond city? check out the stuff there I’m sure they would like anything from the surplus store’’ Strong grunts in agreement and stomps away again behind Strong stood MacCready with a tilted head and raised eyebrows Preston looks at him completely confused until MacCready takes his two fingers and draws a heart, Preston stands there dumbfounded his gun falling from his hands

Valentine:

It was a slow day for nick, seemed not many people needed help nowadays guess he had Sole to thank for this time off, but he was getting a bit restless with all this sitting around waiting for something, he felt kind of bad for wishing for things to happen but he was sick of the small ‘Lost my cat’ or ‘forgot where my nuka-cola truck was’ and sick of the fact all of those were deacon in different wigs, so when his door opened he was pretty excited he turns his head up quickly and is met with strong slowly trying to squeeze into the door, he struggled for a few minutes before sitting down, and then breaking the chair, but he still sat in place on top of the broken chair on the floor, nick chuckles and rubs at his temples why was the world against him ‘’Strong, great to see you...What do you need?’’ strong was quick to speak ‘’Paper send me but before that pwes ton and then before that mac ree dee and then before him irish lady, and now im here help strong now metal man!’’ nick rubs the lower part of his face and sighs ‘’so...Paper? sent you specifically?’’ strong nods with a grumble ‘’Alright..tell me what you need’’ it was better than seeing deacon in a long blonde wig talking in a high pitch voice about his cheating husband for 5 hours ‘’Strong been told to come to you because you were married and I need to know E fec tion’’ Nicks eyes widen slightly, the pupils whirrling vibrantly this had to be one of deacons tricks ‘’Affection? for whom’’ Strong slams a big green fist on the desk, breaking it, nick pretends the desk is still there for sanity sake and rests his arms in midair ‘’For Master! who else would be good enough for E fec tion’’ Nick could die at that moment ‘’Alright Deacon you can come out now’’ Strong roars angrily ‘’Bald man at settlement!’’ oh god so this was...Serious, nick takes a looooonnngggggg drag of a cigarette and sighs ‘’Alright...ill help ya’’

X6-88:

(petition for me to just use Raymond Holt gifs for X6 considering they are basically,,The same person like the personalities are spot on omg)

All of the companions where sharing their opinions/outlooks on Strongs growing affections on sole/if Sole would return them and all that, Hancock threw in a few sexual jokes (making everyone groan in different tones) while everyone else already knew X6 did not, and he found it obscene

‘‘x6, what do you think about it?’‘ Curie asks with her eyes full of curiosity, as always.

‘‘Absolutely...Not’‘

‘‘What do you mean ‘Absolutely not?’’ Piper asks with a joking scoff

‘‘it is ridiculous at best, there is no way’‘ the other companions sigh at him ‘‘hey it could be a real blossoming love my guy, they will have gorgeous half green babies’‘ Deacon says with a mouthful of carrot X6 looks at him in distaste and turns in his hair ‘‘X6! don't ignore us, stop being a grumpy pants you aren't in the institute anymore! love is real!’‘ Mac says excitedly X6 slowly turns his chair back and stares at him through his glasses

‘‘It might be, but not between sole and the supermutant, now before you complain, i am once again turning in my chair’‘

he will come around

MacCready:

‘’MACK REE DEE!’’Strong stomped up to Mac at INCREDIBLE speed ‘’whoa there strong! you could flatten me buddy’’ he chuckled but he was literally terrified for his life seeing strong run like that ‘’Loud lady says you can help me’’ strong says bluntly ‘’help with what?’’ now mac was interested ‘’I told her I didn’t want to be without Master and she tells me to see you little man’’ MacCready rubs his neck in confusion why would she send strong to him over nothing it was only natural that he would be if he considers Sole his Master ‘’After fire in Third Rail Master was upset at Strong, STRONG CANT STAND IT’’ Mac nodded slightly ‘’uh well...Sometimes a good ‘’hey I’m sorry’’ and some affection, maybe a hug and a gift can work?’’ strong seemed to like that idea ‘’I GO NOW’’ he roars ‘’whoa buddy wait! do you want me to tell Sole you’re leavin? I’m on my way to have dinner with her now’’ dinner!? Strong’s alarms went off in his head and he picks Mac up by his jacket snarling slightly ‘’Dinner?!’’ Maccready stares at strong, confused and terrified ‘’Um yeah...The thing people do to eat? she wanted Duncan and Shaun to meet formally? you were invited remember?’’ ‘’oh’’ strong slowly and gently (for a supermutant) and slightly dusts Mac off and turned away MacCready laughed softly at how strange he could be and then stopped dead in his tracks ‘’Wait what the fu- ‘’

Hancock:

Once the institute was defeated Hancock and Sole both came up with the idea to have a party for everyone at the third rail, all of good neighbour was decorated from top to bottom with funny decor, synth scraps, all of that (much to x6′s dislike, he still went) everything was fine and dandy, everyone was partying it up, Magnolia switched It up for the night and was singing some upbeat party tunes, and then some random stumbled up to Sole, Hancock watched for a distance he knew Sole could handle themselves so he just watched silently, it was chill and all until Strong war cried, threw the person into some lit candles which then got caught on a decoration and set it on fire and then in shock some people bumped into each other and started fighting AND THEN as everything was going to shit Sole had to jump up to Strong to avoid the fire as it pooled around them, the way strong held onto Sole, told him enough whether supermutants could feel that kinda thing or not wasn't his business. Putting out his cigarette he sighs and decides to help in the chaos as Deacon walked into the third rail ‘’ I BROUGHT PIZZ- aaaa???!’’

BONUS

Sole:

Sole was sitting at dinner with Mac, Duncan and Shaun and turned towards the empty spot they had reserved for Strong with a sigh. They just continue to smile and eat, until the door gets fireman kicked down (I cannot stop with that) and strong appears Sole stands up and strong walks towards them, a pretty sweet looking belt in hand he throws it at sole and they catch it ‘’is this for me strong? well thanks! I-’’ then Strong picks them up and awkwardly hugs them to his body sole struggles a little bit against him ‘’is this about the third rail? its alright strong I told you that I was just busy’’ Strong ‘’I’m trying to do human E fec tion’’ sole goes silent and then smiles softly ‘’thanks strong that’s really nice of you to do that for me, but you don’t have to I like you the way you are’’ strong slowly puts sole down and sole pats him on the arm

Mac and Duncan just looked at each other awkwardly and kept eating the whole time

Bonus Bonus

Maxson:

(I hope this was okay!! thank you so much for requesting I had a BLAST doing it!! xxx)

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contrabandhothead · 5 years ago

Note

if you feel like doing one id LOVE a ship! your writing is so beautiful🥺 im 5’4 w/ platinum blonde hair & hazel eyes. i’m a night owl & an early riser & i love the moon & sun a lot. i’m pretty quiet at first but once i’m comfortable it’s actually the opposite😂 i’m very intuitive & can sniff out bad people right away. i love being outside! if the sun is out so am i! if it’s not tho you can find me doodling or deep cleaning my house while blasting music😂 i hope this is enough! 🖤 thanks!!

Joe Liebgott

- general -

SIS I DON’T TAKE CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM ON THIS OKAY

IF YOU LIKE THE SUN & THE MOON YOU AUTOMATICALLY HAVE TO LIKE OPPOSITES ATTRACT (IT’S ILLEGAL NOT TO I’M SORRY)

Joe isn’t really a night-owl but he’ll stay up super late with you for no reason

he’s not exactly a morning person either; so, to summarize this thought, Joe really likes sleep

you’re an early riser, so expect lots of angry mumbling from Joe when you get up in the morning

he’s usually upset because the bed gets colder

also because he doesn’t have anyone to cuddle when you get up... so he’s gonna turn into a cocoon of covers until he feels like getting up

you’re an early riser who the fuck is an early riser who wakes up early why would you do that to yourself i will sleep 14 hours straight if i went to bed at like 6 am

you and Joe probably didn’t like each other at first

however, it’s not because you intuitively realized he was a bad person

no, it’s because Joe is just so suspicious + he’s literally always friggin angry, which automatically made you not want to be around him

now that you actually know him better, you realize that he’s aggressive to protect his own feelings so that no one will get to him

Joe is very grateful that you’re patient with him

he also loves that you take just as much time to open up to him as he takes to open up to you, it makes the relationship progression smoother

Joe likes the outdoors, he loves the way the wind feels

if you want to go outside, he’ll most likely go with you

Joe blasts ALL his music, so he doesn’t mind that you love to do the same

if a slow song comes on, you better dance with him

if you give Joe one of your doodles, he’ll cherish it forever

he has a ton of them clipped on to his sun visor in his taxi, along with a photo of the two of you

- how you two met -

you and Joe met at Camp Toccoa... and probably in one of the worst ways possible

it’s no secret that Joe’s a bit of a hothead

I mean, the man gets ticked off by literally the smallest things

you weren’t expecting everyone at Toccoa to be incredibly welcoming, especially considering that you were the only female joining the paratroopers

unlike some of the men, Joe wasn’t sexist to you, he just gave you weird vibes

and weird vibes in your book automatically puts someone down on the “people I don’t really like that scare me” list

it wasn’t that he was a bad person or anything, you two just had very different personalities and hung out with very different people

for instance, Joe tended to spend most of his time with Chuck Grant, Floyd Talbert, Joe Toye, Skinny Sisk, and George Luz, who are all incredibly loud and outgoing people

you also hung out with like-minded people, but since you were more timid you tended to spend most of your time around people like Eugene Roe

you and Eugene got along great, you two eventually became best friends

you generally forgot about Joseph D. Liebgott most of the time, and he did the same to you

Until one morning at least

you, being the every early riser, had gotten up at the brink of dawn... you didn’t do it on purpose, it was just the way you were wired

you decided to go help some of the men cook breakfast for all of the soldiers (you’re too pure ugh i love it)

after the majority of the cooking was done, they shooed you out of the kitchen, insisting they could get the rest done at that you had already done enough

you had argued with them until they had finally given you a pot of scrambled eggs, which you then began giving out to the soldiers

you weaved in between the long wooden tables, stopping at one you had yet to serve

“Took you long enough! My plates gettin’ cold over here!” Tab joked, getting an elbow in the side from Liebgott for his comment.

“Just let the lady do her job in peace, Tab.” Joe remarked.

Cobb seemed to perk up next to Joe, shoving his plate in front of your face

“Finally! A woman that knows her place! Hurry up girl, I’m dyin’ over here!”

Cobb head was pinned against the table. Joe stood behind him, twisting Cobb’s arm in a painful grip

the man was practically seething

“Don’t you ever talk to a lady like that again. Ever. Do you hear me?” Joe pushed his head further into the wood as he said each word, a groan erupting from Cobb as he mumbled a small “yes”

Joe released Cobb’s head, knocking it against the table again for good measure

he then picked up his own plate, offering it to you

“May I please have some eggs, ma’am?”

Thanks so much for submitting a request! I’m so glad you like my ships 💕 I’m so sorry this took literally forever, but thank you for being patient. You seem so sweet and amazing i’m 🥺🥺🥺 I hope you enjoy this, have a great week!

~ Ky

#joe liebgott #joe liebgott headcanons #band of brothers #band of brothers ships

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hyucks-archive · 6 years ago

Text

uncertainty.

word count: 10.2k

genre: fluff, kind of pest-to-lovers!au

member(s): donghyuck, ft. mark, renjun, jeno, jaemin, & jungwoo

warning(s): none, but probably bad language and typos...

author’s note: im embarrassed to post this thats all i gotta say i aint proud of it

“… as mentioned in the above statement…” you murmured under your breath while you continued to type out your essay. It was a quarter past midnight, and you were nearing the end of your 5,000-word essay. A cup of tea beside your laptop, papers sprawled across the table, a textbook resting on your lap, your hair in a messy bun, and your spectacles sliding down the bridge of your nose, you couldn’t wait to call it a day and finally crawl into bed to get the well-deserved rest you needed.

“Done!” you exclaimed, stretching your arms out and throwing your head back in a mini celebration. You could feel a chill run down your spine, the tension in your body being released now that you were finally moving after remaining stationary in the same position for the past five hours.

Slapping the textbook shut, you placed it on the floor beside you. “Save,” you murmured, fingers moving fast to click the ‘save’ option on your laptop. With the essay out of the way, you put your computer to sleep, picking up the cup of tea and gulping down whatever remained. Getting up, you retrieved the tissues and snack wrappers to discard of them.

Just as you were about to put on rubber gloves to do the dishes, the welcoming shouts of two familiar voices hit your ear – the neighbours were at it again. You decide that you were in a good enough mood, having completed your essay, so you didn’t need to bother with them. Sliding on the yellow rubber gloves, you turned on the tap and began doing the dishes.

“You’re being unreasonable!” Donghyuck shouted.

“Says you? You don’t even know how stubborn and unbearable you are,” said Renjun.

You continued to listen as the two voices went back and forth, insulting each other in the most childish ways possible. You rolled your eyes, “Peace and quiet, peace and quiet, peace and quiet…” you chanted, trying to hypnotise yourself into believing that all will be fine within a few minutes. That was usually the length of their arguments anyway.

You placed the last dish up on the drying rack, removing the rubber gloves and hanging them up to dry. You cleaned your hands with a kitchen towel, getting ready to do your stretches. You closed your eyes, calming yourself in order to get into the right state of mind to really relax and meditate with your stretching.

“Are you being serious right now?!” you hear Renjun exclaim.

You groaned internally; with how loud they were being, there was no way you were going to be able to focus on yourself. Huffing, you decide enough was enough, and you needed to put a stop to their ridiculous ruckus. It honestly baffled you how the other neighbours were able to tolerate the bickering of the two guys. It wasn’t like it was a rare occurrence, it literally happened every night or two. Granted, it usually ended within a few minutes, but tonight, it was going on for way too long.

Swinging your front door open, you looked up to meet eyes with the blonde-haired boy and the brown-headed boy, both of whom, had their attention on you, who had made an unexpected appearance in the middle of their battle. Renjun raises an eyebrow questioningly. You notice that he eyes you up and down, to which you remembered, you weren’t exactly in a very presentable state right now, with your messy hair and loose, crumpled t-shirt, paired with your floral pants. It didn’t really help that you had two modules in common with Donghyuck, and one module in common with Renjun at university, and that you guys were all close friends.

“Uh, yeah, hi, hello,” you begin, feeling a little self-conscious because of their stares. “Yeah, you guys are really annoying. If you’re going to fight, please don’t do it right outside my door,” you finish, flashing an awkward, pursed-lip smile. You gesture towards their door, “Maybe go in there and fight instead.”

You bowed politely, having said what you wanted to say. You stepped back into your house, pulling the door to shut it, but you couldn’t complete the action as Donghyuck reaches out a hand to hold onto the edge of the door. You stare at his hand, your eyes travelling up his arm to meet eyes with him. You furrowed your brows, trying your best to keep a polite smile. “What is it?” you managed out, almost through clenched teeth.

“Since you’re out anyway, you be the judge of this,” he says, pulling your door wide open. You stumble forward with his sudden action, your hand still wrapped tightly around the door handle. He mumbles an “Oops,” as though that would make anything better.

“Look, I really don’t want to be involved in your fi-”

Before you could even finish your sentence, Renjun began to explain the situation excitedly. You listened with your fists clenched, your lips pursed, and your eyes shifting everywhere. The only thing you really wanted right now, was to return to your home, to get the sleep that you were very much deprived of. You weren’t interested in getting involved in a petty fight between two obviously, relatively grown guys.

“Hyuck told me to take out the trash, and so I did. I took it out, like I do all the time, because he’s a lazy ass who doesn’t want to help out with chores around the house. But that’s fine, that’s not what this fight is about. So anyway, I throw out the trash, right? And now, he’s claiming, he lost his earpiece, and that I’m at fault because I took the damn trash out like he requested, when his earpiece could potentially be somewhere in the trash,” he finishes with a huff, hands on his waist, weight resting on one foot. He glares at Donghyuck angrily.

Donghyuck retorts, “My earpiece could’ve been in the trash, and I could’ve retrieved it fine if you hadn’t taken out the trash, dimwit.”

You rolled your eyes – you really could not believe these two guys were fighting over something as petty as thrown out trash and a lost earpiece. The two began to raise their voices at each other once again. In frustration, you put both hands out between the two of them, gesturing for them both to just shut their mouths for a second.

“Alright, both of you. Wait here. And try to keep quiet,” you say, finishing your sentence with a hint of desperation in your voice. You went back into your apartment, heading straight to the room, where your bag was. You reached into it and looked for your earpiece, grabbing it, before heading back to the corridor, where the two were thankfully quiet, and patiently waiting for you, just as you had instructed.

“Here,” you say, holding out the earpiece in front of Donghyuck. “Just take this, and stop this stupid argument.”

The brown-headed boy stares at the wire in your hands. He looks up at you, both brows raised, clearly surprised that you were giving your earpiece to him so willingly. You raised your hand higher, urging for him to take it. He doesn’t move, and neither does Renjun. This frustrated you even more.

“I’m offering a solution, take it,” you say, grabbing Donghyuck by the pocket of his jacket. You shoved the earpiece into his pocket, pushing him away once you were done. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to sleep. So, shut up and stop arguing,” you say, grabbing both of them by the shoulders and turning them towards their door. You shoved both of them forward, before turning around to enter your apartment, closing the door behind you. Donghyuck stares at his pocket that held your earpiece – the first item of yours he’s ever touched.

You headed straight for your bedroom, plopping down onto the comfortable mattress, which was everything you needed at the moment. For the rest of the night, as you drifted off to sleep, there were no more disturbances from the corridor.

With your messenger bag slung over your shoulder, and your textbooks hugged tightly against your chest, you made your way to the first lecture of the day. You were running on about four hours of sleep, thanks to having to deal with the ruckus last night, but you weren’t feeling as low on energy as you usually would. In fact, you were feeling quite energised.

Picking a seat that was at the far left of the lecture hall, where you were out of sight from the lecturer, you placed your books down on the table, seating yourself comfortably into the seat. You pulled out your laptop from your bag, placing it on the table. There was still approximately thirteen minutes left before the lecture would commence, so you whipped out your phone and began scrolling through social media, looking at the eventful lives of your friends.

Just as you were getting more engrossed in the content of your phone, the strong aroma of matcha tea tickles your sense of smell. You looked up to see a cup of matcha tea inches away from your face. Holding on to the cup was a familiar hand – the image of the same hand holding on to the edge of your door flashes in your brain. Sure enough, connected to the cup was Donghyuck. You noticed that he had your earpiece plugged into his ears, his expression nonchalant.

He removes a bud, “Just a sign of gratitude,” he says, pushing the cup of matcha forward. You take it from him, “Thanks,” you murmur, locking your phone and placing it on the table. You wrapped your fingers around the cup, eyes fixed on the front of the lecture hall, trying to analyse Donghyuck’s next action through your peripheral vision.

He removes his haversack and places it on the table, sliding into the seat next to you. This was extremely unusual and uncomfortable for you; you have always been the loner kid who sat alone in all lectures. Having someone sit beside you gave you an unexplainable pressure. Yes, the two of you were friends, but he’s never sat beside you, like ever. You continued to monitor him through the corner of your eye. He opens his bag and pulls out the textbooks for the lecture. He takes off the other bud, detaches the wire from his phone, and rolls it up neatly. He shoves the earpiece into his pocket, taking out a pen and opening a notebook.

“Where’s your laptop?” you asked. You immediately pursed your lips together, mentally slapping yourself. You didn’t mean to actually ask the question, you just thought of it. But before you could even stop yourself, the words had already left your mouth.

“I don’t like to use one,” he replies, turning to face you. You look at him questioningly, “What do you mean? You write all your notes?”

The boy flips through the pages of his notebook, showing you glimpses of the notes he had taken in the past lectures. Your mouth parts ever so slightly, surprised that he indeed, took all of his notes down physically.

“Isn’t that so inefficient though?” you question, leaning forward, away from the backrest of the chair. You were intrigued, because you’ve never seen anyone who still used a pen and paper for lectures. Usually, the professor would speak so fast, that even you, who typed all of your notes, couldn’t keep up. “Not really, I like it better this way,” he replies. He brings an arm up to the table and propped it, resting his chin on his palm. It was one of the rare conversations where Donghyuck was being nice and not snappy with his words, which was nice for a change.

The chattering in the lecture hall comes to a stop when the professor struts in. You readjust your position to face the front, opening your laptop and getting yourself into attention, in order to fully focus during the course of the lecture.

The lecture passes faster than usual, and surprisingly, you weren’t as conscious as you believed yourself to be with Donghyuck seated next to you. You always expected yourself to be wary of people looking at the screen of your laptop, judging you for the short forms you used or the things you chose to note down, but Donghyuck didn’t seem to care one bit. He had his head turned away from you the whole time, completely focused on scribbling down all the information that exited the professor’s mouth. In fact, at certain points of the lecture, when you didn’t manage to catch what the lecturer said, Donghyuck had all the answers. You couldn’t understand how his physical and manual way of note-taking seemed to be more efficient than your technological method.

“I’m glad you liked the matcha,” Donghyuck says, getting up from his seat. You looked at the cup of tea that was now empty, the remains of matcha powder at the bottom. “Oh, I prefer tea to coffee,” you say. He nods his head, “Ditto.”

Donghyuck slings a strap of his haversack over his shoulder. You, on the other hand, was still busy cleaning up your notes. You noticed his presence that remained next to you, “Aren’t you going to leave?” you asked, turning to look at him.

“What about you?”

You turned back to your screen, resuming typing as your fingers moved quickly around the keyboard. “I’ll leave when I’m done with this,” you say. Donghyuck doesn’t say anything, and continues to remain beside you. You didn’t have to turn to look to know that he was probably staring at your screen, which was making you feel pressured and self-conscious once again. You hunched forward, trying to use your small frame to block your screen as much as possible, even though your efforts were probably useless. To Donghyuck, it was simply another one of your interesting antics.

“I’m not reading anything,” he says, startling you. “What?” you voiced, to which he simply replies, “Just type in peace. I’m not looking.”

You nod your head and continued to type away at your laptop, ignoring the questions that were forming in your brain. It was like he could read what you were trying to do, what you were thinking in your head, and that undeniably creeped you out a little. Approximately twenty minutes go by, and you were finally done with the tidying up of your notes. Putting your laptop to sleep, you closed the cover and slid it back into your bag, getting up from your seat.

Donghyuck leads the way and you follow behind him. Soon enough, you see Renjun waiting patiently for the two of you, a leg propped against the metal railing, a hand in his pocket. He looks up and greets Donghyuck with their usual handshake, seemingly having made up since the argument yesterday.

“Sorry about last night,” Renjun says, smiling sheepishly. You roll your eyes, “You guys seriously need to stop fighting. I’m going to file an official complaint if you keep this up,” you say. Renjun nods his head, promising that’ll he’ll try to keep it down next time. “I don’t know about Hyuck, though,” he says, flashing a taunting smile at his friend.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, “You’re the one who starts all the fights.”

You groaned, attracting the attention of both boys. They look at you questioningly, to which you say, “Let’s just hurry up and meet the rest. I don’t want to get caught up in your fight again.”

The three of you head out of campus towards the usual hangout spot – a pizza parlour just down the road. The other three, Mark, Jaemin, and Jeno, were already seated in the usual booth, waiting for the three of you. The guys greet each other, and you flash a smile, waving hello to your friends as well. You slid in beside Mark, Donghyuck sliding in next to you, while Renjun takes a seat next to Jaemin and Jeno.

“We heard the two of you were at it again?” Jeno begins, nudging Renjun in the rib. The blonde boy flashes a glare at you, to which you held up both hands in defence, “It’s not me, I said nothing.” You took the menu and looked at it, detaching yourself from the sticky situation ahead. You feel Donghyuck flinch and move closer to you; he was crouched over, his knee against his chest. You didn’t need to see it to know that Renjun must’ve gotten physical again.

“It wasn’t Donghyuck,” Jeno cuts in, holding onto Renjun and holding out a hand warily, just in case Donghyuck chose to launch an attack as well. “We could tell from just your faces,” Jaemin said from the corner, looking up at Mark, “Ready to order?”

Mark nods, pressing the bell to call for the waiter. While Donghyuck and Renjun were exchanging threatening glares, the waiter comes over and takes the order, leaving once he was done. The group broke out into small conversations, with Renjun and Jeno engrossed in their own conversation, while Mark, Jaemin, and yourself, held another conversation. Donghyuck, on the other hand, was just scrolling through his phone, occasionally eavesdropping on the two ongoing conversations.

“I heard that a really cute kid will be joining us next week,” Jaemin dishes, taking a sip of his cola. You raised your brows at that, “Cute kid? What do you mean?”

Donghyuck notices how excited you were getting at the mention of a cute kid. His ears perked up as he tried to listen in on the conversation.

“My friend is coming over to visit,” Mark says, “His name is Jungwoo. A really sweet guy who also happens to be really cute and popular,” he finishes, flashing a smile of satisfaction at the end. “I don’t believe you,” you say, scrunching your face up in suspicion, “You could never have cool friends.”

Jaemin gasps at the comment, with Mark holding a hand to his chest to show that he was hurt. You laughed, and as you did, Donghyuck made another mental note – that you’d smile and be happy with other people, but you never seemed to hold the same emotions around him. Granted, the two of you never actually held an actual conversation before, since you guys were only acquainted because of your common group of friends, but given how distant and cold you behaved around him, it surprised him that you even had the facial muscles to smile.

“How long will Jungwoo be in town?” you asked.

“Probably a week or two, depends,” Mark replies.

You nod your head, drawing yourself out of the conversation when Jaemin and Mark began to talk about other stuff that you couldn’t relate to. You turned your head, to notice Donghyuck, who was still scrolling through his phone silently.

“Maybe try to be more social?” you say, lifting your legs up onto the seat, crossing them comfortably.

“Maybe try to give me personal space?” he replies, pointing at your knee that was hovering over his thigh. You rolled your eyes, dropping your legs back down, your feet hitting the ground. There it was again, his rude replies. “At least I’m not the one interested in a random guy that I haven’t even met,” Donghyuck murmurs under his breath. Unfortunately, you had sharp ears, and his comment didn’t go unheard.

“That’s none of your business,” you snapped.

The conversation ended there, just as the waiter returned with three pans of pizza. Donghyuck makes a mental note to stop being reckless around you. He needed to learn to say more things he meant, and less things he didn’t mean.

As the six of you began to dig in, Mark brings up the topic of Jungwoo to inform the rest of the pact that he’d be joining for a week or two.

“Let’s do something fun, then,” Jeno states, taking a big bite of his pizza. “Why don’t we go to an amusement park or something? Those will be fun,” Renjun suggests. Jaemin nods his head excitedly, “I’m so for the idea of an amusement park.”

Mark looks over you, at Donghyuck, who was just sipping at his cola.

“What do you think, Hyuck?”

Donghyuck nods his head and agrees to it, “I’m sure he’ll enjoy it,” was what he said.

A week goes by quickly, and the day of meeting Mark’s friend, Jungwoo, arrives. The group agreed to meet directly at the amusement park, which meant you would be carpooling with Renjun and Donghyuck, since the two of them literally lived opposite you. You waited patiently in front of their door, shuffling from the inside of the apartment completely audible to you. Within seconds, the door opens and you’re greeted by Renjun, who flashes a small smile at you, “y/n,” he greets.

He leads the way to the carpark, naturally going for the driver’s seat, since he was the only one with a license among the three of you. You stood at the bonnet of the car, to which Donghyuck questions, “What the hell are you doing? Get in.”

“I’m being considerate,” you retort, “Do you want to sit at the front or the back?”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes and heads straight for the backseat, ignoring you. He knew you preferred sitting at the front, so he yielded. But you weren’t aware of his good intentions, and simply took his actions as a sign of him being rude, as usual. You huffed, stomping your feet as you walked towards the passenger seat, opening the door and getting in. You buckled your seatbelt.

Renjun accelerates, and you could already feel the tensed-up atmosphere in the car. Did the two of them fight again? You weren’t sure. Deciding that Renjun was the more approachable one of the two, you whisper, “Are you guys in another argument?”

Before Renjun could reply, Donghyuck speaks up from the back, “No. And I can still hear you.”

You whipped your head to look at him. He had his eyes closed, his body slouched against the seat. Renjun chuckles at Donghyuck’s reply, “He’s just tired. He didn’t sleep much last night.” You nod your head and turned back around, focusing on the scenery of the drive. You hadn’t gotten much sleep yourself.

While you were excited to be spending the day with your friends at a theme park, you were also scared to death, because you weren’t good with rides. When you were young, and you got onto the first kids’ rollercoaster of your life, you finished the ride with your face completely green. The second time you visited an amusement park with your uncle, he had brought you onto the Viking, where you sat at the extreme end, and almost screamed your entire soul out. Not to mention, you also had motion sickness, so rides like the merry-go-round and bumper cars meant headaches. One could say you just weren’t meant for the amusement park, but you still enjoyed it.

Within 40 minutes, the three of you arrived at the parking lot of the theme park.

“I’ll drop you guys here first. Go get tickets, I’ll park the car,” Renjun says, pulling up by the ticketing counter. You unbuckle your seatbelt, turning behind to see Donghyuck still sound asleep. You were about to reach out to shake his knee, but he jolts awake to Renjun’s voice before you could do anything.

“Hyuck, go get tickets with y/n,” he says. Donghyuck doesn’t say anything. He simply opens the door and gets off.

“See you in a little,” you tell Renjun, getting off the car yourself. Donghyuck gets in line while you watch Renjun drive off. You joined him immediately after, the both of you simply waiting in line in silence. Donghyuck had his arms folded. He coughed twice, clearing his throat, his face scrunching up in discomfort. You figured his throat must be feeling dry because of his sleep, so you reach into your bag for water. Holding the bottle out in front of him, he stares at it. He murmurs a, “Thanks,” before grabbing it from you and gulping down enough to moisten his throat.

The rest of the wait was silent, and there were no further interactions between you and Donghyuck. Renjun joins the two of you a few minutes after you guys successfully purchased the tickets. Soon after, Mark, Jeno, Jaemin, and an unfamiliar, orange-haired boy, whom you assumed to be Jungwoo, arrived.

“Guys, this is Jungwoo. Jungwoo, this is y/n, Renjun, and Donghyuck,” Mark introduces, gesturing to each of you as he said your names. Jungwoo flashes a shy smile and fist bumps Renjun and Donghyuck, while he bowed to greet you. You smiled – he was definitely cute. Not your kind of guy, but still, cute.

“You guys got the tickets?” Jeno asks, holding his hand out. You nod your head, and gesture towards Donghyuck who was holding on to the tickets. He begins to hand one out to everyone, “Let’s start with the rollercoaster guys,” Renjun says, leading the pact. Everyone cheers in unison and agreement, to which you simply mouthed, “Yay.” You could already feel your palms sweating.

The seven of you headed for the biggest attraction in the park – the death rollercoaster. It had three dips, one three-sixty turn, a whole course where you’d be hanging upside down, and that to you, meant an absolute nightmare. But you didn’t want to be a party pooper, neither did you want to become the laughing stock of the group who couldn’t handle a measly rollercoaster, so you dragged your feet as you followed behind the pact, dreading as you approached the ride.

“This is going to be awesome,” Jeno says. Mark and Jungwoo were engaged in their own conversation at the front, while Renjun seemed to be regretting his decision of choosing the rollercoaster as the first stop. He was already clinging onto Jaemin.

“I can’t believe you’re already scared,” Jaemin mocked, to which Renjun defends with, “W-who said I was scared?” Jaemin rolls his eyes, pointing to Renjun’s arms that were grasping on tightly to Jaemin’s arms. “You’re literally worse than a cicada.”

Jeno, Donghyuck, and you burst into laughter at that, making Renjun curl back in embarrassment. He sulks and follows Jaemin as the line advances, leaving Jeno, Donghyuck, and yourself to have a conversation of your own. Jeno does a headcount and realises that you guys were an odd number, which meant someone had to sit with a stranger.

“Who’s going to do it?” Jeno asks, looking towards Donghyuck. He shrugs. Jeno drops his gaze unto you, to which you shrugged yourself too. Jeno nods his head, “Got it, I’ll do it.”

You don’t protest, even though you didn’t exactly like the idea of having to sit with Donghyuck, when you could already feel your legs becoming jelly. You’d much rather get on the ride with Jeno beside you, but you weren’t really in the mood to be pushy right now. You were just grateful you were able to sit beside someone you knew, just in case.

“Are you guys scared?” Mark calls, looking at the three of you. You shook your head, forcing a smile, “Not at all,” you lie.

While everyone believed you to be a strong-hearted being who wasn’t afraid of anything, Donghyuck noticed how your fists were clenched, and how you kept shifting your weight from one foot to the other. He notices the beads of sweat that were beginning to form on your forehead, which was odd, since it was still winter. “Is she scared?” he wonders to himself, continuing to monitor you. You were definitely behaving weird compared to your usual, nonchalant ways.

Before you knew it, it was already your turn to get onto the ride. You followed behind Renjun, who got in next to Jaemin. The operator gestures you towards the seats behind Jaemin and Renjun, and you get in first, with Donghyuck following behind. Jeno gets separated from the rest of you because the only other solo rider was at the back of the carriage.

You could feel your heart beat spiralling up, the fear starting to consume your entire being. You fidgeted with your hands nervously, grabbing at your fingers and squeezing tight, until your hand went white due to the lack of blood circulation. You looked around anxiously, trying to calm yourself down.

Donghyuck notices all of this. At this point, he was affirmative that you were scared, whether you wanted to admit it or not. Just as the carriage clasps backwards, signifying the start of the ride, both of your hands rushed to grabbed onto the bar, desperate for your dear life. Without thinking twice, Donghyuck reaches over, grabbing your hand and holding it firmly in his. You don’t look over, and honestly, you don’t even process this, because your eyes were shut tight and all that filled your mind was the rapid beating of your heart. The only thing you cared about right now was for the ride to be over.

Donghyuck intertwines his fingers with yours, resting your hand on his lap. He soothes his thumb over your skin, in an attempt to comfort you, to let you know that he was there. Obviously, given the nature of your relationship, that wouldn’t mean much to you, but he figured, that was the only way he could help you feel at least a little bit better during the ride.

As the carriage goes up the steep climb, you subconsciously found yourself leaning towards Donghyuck. Your free hand that was originally grabbing onto the bar, moves to grasp onto Donghyuck’s arm instead. With your head nuzzled in his chest, you kept your eyes shut tight, the approach to the highest point of the ride almost killing you on the inside.

Donghyuck feels his heart beat pick up its pace, not because of the anticipation of the ride, but because of the close proximity you were in. He didn’t want to admit it, and he never did, but you’ve always made him feel some type of way. Sure, he was snarky and curt with his words, but he felt that that was the only way you’d notice him. Even though you were constantly irritable around him, he still felt special with the fact that at least you treated him differently than the rest.

He allows you to cling onto him throughout the ride, neither of you letting out a sound. Within three minutes, the carriage takes its final loop, slowing down significantly as it approaches the exit point. You were breathing heavily, and you were barely conscious. Everything had happened so fast, but you knew you needed to regain your composure immediately so that the rest wouldn’t notice how scared you were on the ride. You immediately unlatch yourself from Donghyuck, to his disappointment, and you began to fix your hair, licking your lips to give them some moisture and colour.

The ride comes to a stop, and the bar gets lifted. Donghyuck exits first. He notices how you stumbled when you tried to stand. He guessed your legs were still weak from fear of the ride, so he extends a hand. You look up to meet eyes with him for a brief second, before taking his hand as he pulls you out, holding on to your waist to stabilise your posture, before retracting his hands immediately when the pact regroups.

“Damn, that was awesome!” Jeno exclaims, throwing his arms out in the air. “Wish I could say the same,” Renjun pants, looking faint. The guys laugh at him, “You’re such a loser,” Donghyuck comments, hitting Renjun’s arm, causing him to stumble. Luckily for him, Jaemin had caught him before he fell.

Right. If Donghyuck thought Renjun’s a loser for getting off the ride looking like he lost his soul, how much more of a loser did he think you were with how you were literally clinging onto him desperately for your life throughout the whole ride?

“How was it?” Mark directs the question to you. You smile, “It was fun,” you say, briefly looking over at Donghyuck, who wasn’t even looking at you. He was busy fooling around with Jeno.

“Let’s go for the Viking next,” Mark suggests, to which the rest immediately agreed. You followed behind the group as they headed for the next monster ride, preparing your heart for yet another round of torture. You figured it was going to be even harder to hide your terror this time round, since unlike the rollercoaster, on the Viking, you’d be seated in a row together.

Donghyuck strays behind the group as well, walking at a pace similar to yours.

You break the silence with, “You held my hand first,” because you wanted to defend yourself. You didn’t want him to know that you trusted him in the few minutes on the ride, and you didn’t want him to know that you were extremely grateful that he was beside you throughout the ride.

“I didn’t say anything,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets.

You didn’t want to say anything, but you knew that you had to, if you didn’t want the rest of the group knowing how much of a coward you are. But before you could even open your mouth to ask Donghyuck for a favour, he says, “Nothing happened on that ride.”

You blinked thrice; was Donghyuck voluntarily keeping your embarrassing behaviour a secret for you? That was odd, even for him. No matter how unpredictable he was, you never expected him to be sensitive to others. Before you could even give another comment, the group arrives in line of the Viking. Mark turns around to involve you and Donghyuck in a conversation.

You watched as Donghyuck’s face brightens up with a smile as he engages in a conversation with Jungwoo and Mark, something you’ve never seen before. To you, Donghyuck, although bubbly and extroverted, was equally cold and reserved, his different sides coming out at different timings. In front of you, though, it was only ever cold and reserved. He giggles as he continues speaking with Jungwoo, and you hadn’t realised you had stared for too long, until Mark whispers, “What happened on that ride that’s got you charmed?”

You immediately snap back to your senses, shoving Mark lightly, “What do you mean?”

“You’re not looking at Hyuck with eyes of hate like you usually do,” Mark says, wiggling his eyebrows. You roll your eyes, smiling as you replied, “I don’t hate Donghyuck. I just don’t particularly favour him, that’s all.”

Mark hums, a teasing smile plastered on his face, “Sure, y/n. I believe you,” he says, to which you smacked his arm, “I’m serious, Mark.”

The topic gets dropped when Mark’s attention is taken away from you, to focus on Jaemin, who had called for him. Your eyes find their way back to Donghyuck, who was still engrossed in a conversation with Jungwoo. You started to doubt yourself; did you really dislike Donghyuck as much as you thought? Maybe Mark was right, but then again, Mark is also one of the most oblivious people you’ve met, so naturally, he wasn’t the most credible person when it comes to reading people.

As you got lost in thought once again, Donghyuck looks over and engages in eye contact with you, to which you immediately looked away, shaking your head to rid your mind of those silly thoughts. Your dynamics with Donghyuck was supposed to be mean and hostile, and it is going to remain that way. That’s just how the two of you functioned.

The line continued to advance, and soon enough, it was your turn to get onto the Viking. As you trailed behind Mark, with Jungwoo and Donghyuck behind you, the boys got onto the extreme end of the boat, one by one. As Mark was getting on, Donghyuck reaches out and grabs onto your hand, stopping you in your tracks. You turned to look at him, but he doesn’t look at you.

He gestures for Jungwoo to get onto the ride first, his grip on you disappearing almost as sudden as it had come onto you. He gets in after Jungwoo, and you follow after him, settling in the seat at the extreme corner. You weren’t sure why Donghyuck had done that, but you realised why, when he sits himself in a really odd position that kept you out of view from the rest of the boys. Unlike on the previous ride where you felt your soul depreciating by the second, you felt a lot calmer now. Of course, you were still scared to death and you still really dreaded having to take the ride, but somehow, you felt a little more security with Donghyuck beside you.

The operator locks the bar in place, and you find yourself choked up in fear once again. You rubbed your palms on your jeans to get rid of the sweat, and just as you were about to hold onto the bar with both hands, Donghyuck had once again reached out to intertwine his fingers with yours. He hides your interlocked hands between the two of you. This time, you looked up to try to read his expression, but he was expressionless, just as he usually was.

The ride begins, and just like the rollercoaster, you were leaned into Donghyuck’s body, digging your fingers into his arm for your dear life. Donghyuck feels his heart palpitate so fast, it could pop out of his chest at any moment. As the ride begins to slow, he retracts his hand, turning his back towards you. He starts a conversation with Jungwoo, and in the meantime, you fixed your hair and expression, just as you had done on the rollercoaster ride.

You were the first to get off the ride, with Donghyuck following behind, and the rest of the group after him. The seven of you regrouped once again, Renjun looking significantly livelier than before.

“Now that was fun,” he says, dimple showing from his bright smile. “What’s next?”

Jungwoo brings out the map of the amusement park that he had gotten at the entrance earlier, looking for what other rides would be fun.

“I’m hungry though, can we eat first?” Jeno voices out, rubbing his tummy. “Should we split up then? Because I’m not hungry, and I’d rather continue going on rides,” Renjun suggests, looking towards Mark for an answer. Mark ponders for a moment, “Sounds good. We’ll rendezvous at 7?”

Everyone agrees, already splitting themselves into the group that was going to eat and the group that was going to go on more rides. You decided that you’d go with the rides group, since you weren’t feeling hungry yourself. Mark, Jungwoo, and Jeno were in the to-eat group, the rest of you gathering at the to-ride group. You said your goodbyes, going separate ways.

“Where shall we go next? How about the drop tower?” Jaemin suggests, looking at the map. Renjun agrees with his suggestion, but in all honesty, you weren’t up for another sweat-inducing, heart-dropping, absolutely terrifying experience.

“I think I’m going to go check out what else they have,” you say. The two don’t question you, and instead, turn their attention towards Donghyuck, who hasn’t said anything yet.

“I’ll go with y/n,” he says, to which the two nod and waved goodbye. They left, reminding the two of you to gather back at the meeting place by 7. You watched as they disappeared into the crowd, leaving you and Donghyuck alone. “You know, you can go your own way. I’m fine on my own,” you say, looking up at him. He looks down and looks you in the eyes, “Where do you want to go?”

“Honestly, I just want to look around,” you say, scanning the area. The weather was nice and cool, which meant it would be fine for you to walk around. Plus, there was so much to see around the place, with how cool the structures were built and all.

“Then let’s do that,” Donghyuck replies.

Your gaze lingers on him for longer than a moment – you didn’t want to think much of this, but you couldn’t help but have such thoughts cloud your mind. Was your relationship really as spiteful as you thought of it to be? Or maybe, that was what you wished to believe in, but it wasn’t really the case. And with Donghyuck’s nice gestures earlier on, you really didn’t know if he hated you like you thought he did.

“Hello? I’m getting old just standing here,” he says, reclaiming your attention. And there it was, curt, snarky Donghyuck, the Donghyuck that you were used to.

“Shut up,” you say, turning to lead the way. You convinced yourself that you were just mistaken. He was only nice in those few moments, but it wasn’t permanent.

After a few minutes of walking, you see a group of kids running past you, all of them having a different design of face paint art on their faces. Intrigued, you followed the trail of kids, which led you to a small, quaint shop hidden at the corner of the park. It had a brightly-lit interior, with bottles and bottles of different types and colours of face paint. A friendly old man stood by the counter, welcoming you with a friendly smile.

“Would you like to paint your face, miss?” he asks. You looked around the vicinity, with two other groups of people occupying separate tables. They were painting each other’s’ faces, seemingly enjoying the process.

“Will you paint it for me?” you asked, to which the old man chuckles, “Of course not, sweetie. You paint on your boyfriend, and he paints on you too,” he explains, gesturing towards Donghyuck.

Letting the man’s assumption of your relationship with Donghyuck slip past, you turned around to look at Donghyuck, and he sees the plea in your eyes already. “Can we do it?” you asked. Donghyuck furrows his brows, shaking his head in reluctance, “I don’t want to paint my face,” he whispers, eyeing the children who had their faces painted already. Admittedly, they didn’t have the nicest designs, but that’s because you weren’t the one who painted for them. “Please?” you whined, tugging on the end of Donghyuck’s sleeve. He feels his breath get caught in the back of his throat, your pleas actually working.

“Fine,” he concedes with reluctance. You smiled, for the first time, because of Donghyuck. You turned back to the shop owner, “We’d like to get our faces painted,” you say. The man leads you and Donghyuck to an empty table, placing a tray of tools and a tray of paints down. You hand him the fee, and he gives a tip of the hat as he wishes you well, “Good luck and have fun!”

Donghyuck sits down beside you, frowning. He couldn’t believe he was about to get himself into getting his face painted, just because he couldn’t resist your antics. He watches as the smile never fades from your expression. You looked through each tool and paint, resembling that of an excited child whom was just promised any ice cream flavour of their choice.

You grabbed a paintbrush with the tiniest tip, standing up and grabbing the first colour of choice – black. Donghyuck’s eyes follows your hands as you opened the bottle of face paint, dipping the paintbrush into it. You grabbed a wet wipe, “I’m going to begin,” you say. Donghyuck nods his head and closes his eyes as you wiped the oils off his face with the wet wipe, ensuring that his face was clean before you began to paint.

You picked up the brush from the bottle of face paint, smiling excitedly as you thought of what you wanted to draw. A small smile tugs at Donghyuck’s lips as he watches your expression, but he looks away immediately when you look down at him. “I’m really going to begin now,” you say, gently resting the hand with the brush on his cheek bone, while your other hand holds a gentle grip on his face. Donghyuck swallows his saliva; although you were in close proximity the past two rides, this marked the first time that your face was just inches away from his, so close that he could feel the heat of your breath brushing against the top of his forehead.

Just as you were about to begin painting, you retracted both hands, another design idea popping in mind. You wiped the black paint off the brush, and reach for the bottle of red paint instead. Donghyuck watches as you dip the brush into the red paint, before repositioning yourself, ready to ink your design.

“You know, if you don’t hurry up, I think we won’t even be done by tomorrow,” Donghyuck comments. You rolled your eyes, ignoring him as you repositioned yourself.

Donghyuck’s eyes does not leave you as you focused on painting whatever you had in mind on the far left of his forehead, the brush strokes tickling him ever so slightly. But he didn’t mind the feeling; it was alright, honestly, and he quite anticipated what you were drawing on his forehead. Minutes go by, Donghyuck noticing how your upper teeth bit down on your lower lip as you concentrated on your design.

Now that you were done, you began fanning the design with your hand, blowing on it occasionally to get it to dry faster.

“All done,” you say, looking at the end product with a smile of satisfaction. “I’ll take a photo of it,” you say, taking out your phone. You hold it out in front of Donghyuck, “Can you please smile?” you say, to which he abides, smiling sweetly for the picture. The smile of satisfaction doesn’t leave your face as you clicked into your gallery to view the newly taken picture, zooming in onto the design. You turned the phone screen to face Donghyuck, who recognises the design almost immediately.

“Is that supposed to be Gaara’s scar?” Donghyuck questions, unamused. You nodded proudly, “Yeah.”

“And why did you paint his scar on me?”

“No reason, I just thought it looked cool, that’s all,” you say. Truth be told, Donghyuck reminded you of Gaara sometimes, only because the scar signified a ‘demon loving only himself’, which was a possible way of describing Donghyuck sometimes. He rolls his eyes, “Are you done? Then it’s my turn to paint on your face.”

“No,” you say instantly, both arms forming a cross over your face, “You’re not painting my face. We’re done here. Let’s go,” you say, bowing politely at the shop owner as you exited the shop. Donghyuck follows behind unwillingly, sulking to himself about how you could paint on his face but he couldn’t do the same on yours.

This time, you spot a mini museum, and so you entered it, with Donghyuck following behind. The next few hours were spent simply looking around, admiring things, and not thinking much of anything or anyone. Night begins to dawn as the sky begins to darken. Donghyuck looks at his watch, “It’s almost time to meet the rest,” he says. You took in one final breath as you admired the beautiful view, “Okay.”

The two of you head towards the agreed meeting place, where Renjun and Jaemin were already waiting.

“You guys are early,” you say, giggling slightly at how pale Renjun seemed to be. “He forced me to re-ride the rollercoaster,” he explains, to which Jaemin defends with, “It was literally the only thrilling ride in the whole park.” You rolled your eyes. Jaemin points at the symbol that you had painted on Donghyuck’s forehead, “What’s that? Are you mimicking Naruto?”

“Actually, that’s Gaara’s scar. And I did it, isn’t it nice?” Jaemin shrugs, “I think it’s alright.” Donghyuck looks at you, and notices the slight disappointment in your expression. “I think it’s nice. I like it,” he says.

You turn to look at him. “But you weren’t ha-” Donghyuck doesn’t let you finish, “I said I like it.”

Mark, Jungwoo, and Jeno walk over at this moment, seeming to have really enjoyed their time together. Their sudden appearance didn’t give you another opportunity to question Donghyuck, so you had no choice but to drop the topic as well. Jeno murmurs a praise at the symbol on Donghyuck’s head, and Jungwoo begins by thanking the group of you, “You guys have been really fun to hang out with,” he says, “I’m glad we came here today.”

“Aw, no problem man, we’ll still be seeing each other for the rest of the week,” Jaemin says, fist bumping the boy.

“Right, which reminds me, where are we going tomorrow?” Mark questions, turning to look at Jeno, who was the one who had planned the entire week out. “We’re bringing him to the pizza parlour, and we’ll go watch the night sky after,” he informs, holding out a thumbs up. Mark nods his head and pulls out his car keys, “So I guess we’ll meet tomorrow?”

Renjun, Donghyuck, and you bid farewell to your friends, before heading to Renjun’s car to head back home. The drive starts off silent, but ten minutes down the road, Renjun speaks up, “I really need to pee,” he says, looking around for a rest stop. You frowned at your friend, “You couldn’t do your business before getting on the car?”

He doesn’t reply, hastily making a sharp turn into the nearest rest stop, parking his car in a vacant lot.

“You guys wait here,” he says, getting off the car and slamming the door shut. You hesitated for a while, contemplating as to whether or not you should drop the pressing questions you wanted answers for. You figured, other than now, there really wasn’t any other opportunities for you to be able to be with Donghyuck one-on-one, so you adjust your body, turning to face him. He had his eyes fixed on the scenery outside the window, his body slouched into the car seat as usual. He feels your gaze rest on him, so he says, “What?”

“You really confuse me,” you say. Donghyuck doesn’t say anything, so you continue, “One minute, you’re all nice and considerate, and the next, you’re cold and turn-offish.”

Donghyuck tilts his head around to look at you through lazy eyes.

“Why? Does it bother you?”

You paused, genuinely considering his question. Did it bother you? Hell yeah. Were you about to let him know that everything he did was making you feel some type of way? Hell no. And so, you decide to lie to him. You reply with a, “No.”

As though expecting that very answer, Donghyuck replies, “It should.”

You felt your heart stop. What did he mean by that? So many more questions started to surface in your head, but before you could even pose them to Donghyuck, Renjun returns, climbing back into the driver’s seat. You readjusted your position to face the front, the heart-fluttering feeling still in your chest. What exactly was Donghyuck trying to imply? You needed answers, and you needed them soon, but you knew you weren’t going to get any.

The next day, ever since the conversation you had with Donghyuck the previous night, the only thoughts that flooded your brain was thoughts about Donghyuck. The things he said, the things he did, and the expressions he made… everything was about him. You tried so hard to shake the thought of him off your mind, but you knew that at this juncture, the only way to get rid of thoughts about him, was to get the answers that you wanted.

Once again, you were situated outside Renjun and Donghyuck’s shared apartment, as you waited for the two to be ready, in order to head to the pizza parlour together. This time, Donghyuck was the first to come out. You meet eyes with him, to which you tried to hold onto that eye contact, but he broke it off almost immediately. And there he was, being cold again. There was just no way you could predict him at all. Everything was just confusing you.

The three of you got into the car, in the same positions you had sat the previous day. It was a mere five-minute drive to the parlour, and this time, the other four had arrived earlier than the three of you. They were seated at the usual booth, Jungwoo looking through the menu since it was all new to him.

You moved in next to Jeno, who was seated alone, as Mark, Jungwoo, and Jaemin were seated on the same side. He greets you with a smile as usual, and you smiled back. Donghyuck settles in beside you, while Renjun takes a seat beside Jaemin. The group of you exchange small talk, but the conversations were merely passing by, as you were focused on Donghyuck and Donghyuck alone.

He was being smiley and nice once again, participating in a friendly conversation with Jungwoo. The two seemed to really hit it off, with loads to talk about. But then again, he seemed to have loads to talk about with everyone else, except you. You feel a light kick from under the table, and you immediately looked up to see Mark flashing an all-knowing smile. He wiggles his eyebrows and folds his arms, his expression telling of how he was still on the whole something-is-going-on-between-Donghyuck-and-y/n bandwagon. You rolled your eyes, throwing a serviette at him.

Mid-conversation, Donghyuck notices you and Mark exchanging looks, and he definitely notices you throwing a serviette at the boy. He continues to focus on his conversation with the other guys, choosing to act oblivious to whatever you were doing beside him.

The food comes, and disappears within a matter of minutes, as everyone devoured the food. You finished your last sip of cola, with Mark taking the lead, “Alright, let’s head to the park guys.”

“I want to take Renjun’s car,” Jeno declares, holding onto the said boy. Jaemin joins in, “Sounds great, let’s go in Renjun’s car.” You looked at Donghyuck, who didn’t say anything. Mark speaks up, “If you all go in Renjun’s car, then who’s going to take mine?”

“I’ll go with you,” Donghyuck volunteers, moving over to stand with Jungwoo and Mark. “Hey, y/n, how about you take my car too?” Mark calls, flashing you that same, all-knowing smile once more. You frowned, shaking your head, “No, it’s fine. I’ll stick with Renjun,” you say, taking a step back to stand in line with the three boys. Renjun pushes you away, “Just yesterday you insulted me for having to pee mid-drive. I’d gladly kick you off my car, thank you very much.”

You looked at Renjun with widened eyes. Mark takes this as an opportunity, and urges further, “Yeah, just take my car this time, y/n.” You shoot the boy a glare, rolling your eyes and conceding to his request. You moved over to stand beside Donghyuck. Mark and Renjun discuss who was going to tailgate who, before leading the way to the cars. You got into the backseat, Donghyuck getting in from the other end. Jungwoo gets into the passenger seat, and Mark gets into the driver seat. He starts the car and accelerates, signalling for Renjun to follow behind.

The ride begins, with Jungwoo and Mark engrossed in their own conversation. Mark had the radio turned on to a relatively audible level, loud enough that you couldn’t really hear what Mark and Jungwoo were saying if you didn’t pay attention. You had your eyes fixed on the road outside, not really paying attention to anything, until you felt a tap on your arm. You turn to face Donghyuck, whom you could barely see under the dim street lights.

He opens his mouth and says something, but you couldn’t hear him over Mark’s voice and the radio. So you go, “What?”, focusing your attention on his lips. You were trying your best to lip-read, but it wasn’t really working well. You leaned forward, voicing another, “What?”, trying your hardest to decipher what he was saying.

Your breath hitches when Donghyuck suddenly leans over, breath tickling your ear, “If you keep staring at my lips like that, it makes me want to kiss you even more than I already do.”

He pulls back, slouching back into his seat. His head turned to face the road outside, you stayed still in your position, almost forgetting to breathe. You regained your senses when Mark declares, “We’re here.”

You get off the car along with the rest, Renjun pulling up beside Mark’s car. You were in a trance, completely lost in thought, the whole situation that happened in the car being of extreme surrealism to you. You trailed behind the pact as they picked out a spot in the middle of the park, one of which had an extremely clear view of the sky, so that you guys could stargaze.

You watched as the six of them settled down, already lying down and getting comfortable. You chose to sit a distance away from them, in order to process everything, and more importantly, to avoid being near Donghyuck. Your efforts proved futile when Donghyuck turns and notices you seated away from the group. He gets up and walks towards you, taking a seat beside you.

You don’t say anything, and neither does he. He has his gaze focused on the sky, while you had yours focused on the ground. Donghyuck reaches into his pocket and pulls out his earpiece, that your recognised as your own. You had forgotten that he still had it with him. He offers you a bud, and you take it, inserting it into your ear.

And just like that, minutes go by with the two of you just seated next to each other in comfortable silence, the soft humming of Donghyuck’s playlist in one ear. You were busy, lost in thought, while Donghyuck was simply enjoying your presence next to him. You could feel yourself actually enjoying this moment, as though you longed for more to come. It was not until the rest of the group decided that they had enough of stargazing, did the two of you finally move. Jaemin helps you up, Donghyuck getting up himself and dusting himself off. The boys began to walk back towards the cars, intending to call it a day already.

You bid your farewells to Jeno, Jungwoo, Jaemin, and Mark, who were going the opposite direction. You got into the passenger’s seat of Renjun’s car, remaining silent. Renjun tries to start a conversation with you, but you weren’t listening, so you didn’t reply. Instead, Donghyuck replied, and so the two of them engaged in a conversation while you spaced out all the way home.

“Bye, y/n,” Renjun greets. You don’t reply, as you keyed in your pin and entered your apartment, closing the door shut behind you. You stayed by the door, leaning your frame against it as you continued to recall Donghyuck’s words. He wanted his behaviour to bother you, and then he just straightforwardly tells you he’s been wanting to kiss you, completely out of the blue, and everything was just too overwhelming for you.

The doorbell rings, snapping you out of your train of thoughts. Reaching for the handle, you pushed the door open, to see Donghyuck just standing at your doorstep. He looks at you, and without any hesitation, drops the three words that answers all of your queries.

“I like you.”

You felt your breath stop for the second time for the night. Your heart began to palpitate more, the thumping of it audible in your ears. You could feel your heart pump against your chest, completely unsure of how to react to his sudden confession.

Donghyuck watches as you continued to stare at him blankly. Feeling slightly awkward with your lack of reaction, he purses his lips and nods his head, flashing an embarrassed smile as he points in the direction of his apartment, “Then, uh, I guess I’ll go home now,” he says, laughing awkwardly. He clasps his hands together and turns, but is stopped by your sudden hold on his wrist.

“Maybe I like you too,” you say, voice coming out barely a whisper. Nevertheless, Donghyuck hears you, and he sighs as a feeling of relief washes over him.

“Good because that would be so awkward, you know, if you didn’t feel the same way,” he says.

You continued to stare up at him blankly, unsure of what to do next. Just as Donghyuck was about to say something, you cut him off, “Well see you tomorrow then!” you say, flashing a smile. You waved goodbye, and before he could even react, you had shut the door on him. You stood with your body leaning against the door, a hand to your chest, trying to calm the erratic palpitations of your heart. You took in a deep breath, hands shaking, because you couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“Goodnight, y/n,” you hear Donghyuck from the other side of the door.

A smile tugs at your lips. You took out your phone and entered your gallery, revealing the photo of Donghyuck you had taken at the amusement park, after painting his forehead. Your smile widens, “Goodnight, Hyuck,” you whisper, fully anticipating the days to come.

#nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct imagines #haechan scenarios #haechan fluff #haechan imagines #nct angst #haechan angst #haechan #nct #nct dream #nct 127 #nct haechan #fic #fic: uncertainty

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pynkhues · 5 years ago

Note

5 and 11 from the October prompt list! 🙃

“I might just kiss you.” / “It’s not always like this.”

+ anon prompt: Alright I know you probably have a bunch of these but I have a prompt for Playing House. Prompt: Rio has a really tough day at work(like real shitty) and Beth senses it even though he tries to put on a brave face for her and the kids. She does/plans something to make him feel special and loved.

(This was actually originally just based on your prompt, @lilliloves, but anon prompted this today and it fit wonderfully, so I hope you both don’t mind sharing!)

Set in The Centre and Circumference / Domestic Fic universe

(Early-ish. Probably three or four months after I Could Be Your Welcome + See You in the Light)

There’s blood at his knuckles.

Ain’t the first time, and he’s sure it won’t be the last, but still – he finds his gaze fixed briefly on it anyway, flexing his hand, feeling the ache in it already. His skin ain’t split though, which means the blood belongs to the guy in front of him, this wiry fuck who’s already spat out two of his teeth on the floor between them, drool oozin’ out of his mouth, so thick with blood it’s almost black, and ain’t that a picture, Rio thinks, resting back into his heels.

His gaze flicks to Demon, and it’s all it takes for him to start rolling the silencer onto his gun.

“No, please,” Vinny moans, squirming back against the chair, hiccupping, feet leavin’ smears of dirt against the concrete floor of the warehouse. “I’ve got a family, I’ve got kids.”

And sure, Rio thinks, rolling his head back towards Vinny, keepin’ his face carefully blank. There’s a chill in the air, but Rio ain’t feelin’ it, not in here, not with the heat of the fight still thunderin’ through his veins, not with the righteous fury still boilin’ in his gut because shit, none of them should even be here, none of them would if it wasn’t for Vinny. Rio raises an eyebrow, pulling his expression into a look of faux care.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, yes, they - - I have - - my eldest is barely six years old. You know Emily. She’s just started school, she - -”

“You think about her when you stole my product?” Rio asks, voice lowly drawlin’. “You think about that little girl when you took out the connect?”

At least that’s enough to shut the fucker up, leave him splutterin’ on his own blood like he’s bein’ waterboarded, and Rio just watches him. Watches the lines of his throat twitch, his blackened eye swelling shut. He remembers getting shawarma with the guy. Remembers beers at Cisco’s. Thinks he might even remember the guy’s daughter for real – blonde, dimpled, all puppy fat cute like one of his sister’s old Cabbage Patch Dolls.

Mostly though he remembers this fuckin’ trip. Remembers sending this guy, days ago, out to pick up pills from Marta in Canada only to hear that the pills were gone and Marta was dead, and this fuck was nowhere to be found, and shit.

Marta had kids too.

“Rio, man, please. I fucked up, I know that, I - -”

Rio gives Demon the nod.

Demon offers him a cigarette, but Rio shakes his head, pulling his keys out of the back pocket of his jeans as he watches Diego hurl his guts up onto the concrete a few steps away. Kid’s pretty new – can’t be much older than 21, but both Dags and Bullet had vouched for him. Said he was loyal, quiet, got the job done. They’d worked with him on one of their smaller side hustles, and Rio figured what the hell. New blood could be good for the operation. This sorta trial was always good for the new intake too – let them see what waited for ‘em if they got in their egos, if they thought they could pull one over.

And Rio had been impressed enough. The kid hadn’t complained, had helped get Vinny here, even thrown a few good punches and helped Demon clean the body of any prints or DNA before gettin’ rid of it. The vomitin’ was a good sign too, for a kid this green. Death should matter. Should scare you. It means you treat it serious. Means you ain’t cappin’ people without cause.

It’s what keeps you kickin’.

“A drink then. Fuck, I need one,” Demon says, and Rio flicks his gaze back to him. “Back to the hotel?”

And he probably should. Their rooms are already booked, paid for. They’ve been stayin’ there for a few nights – had crossed the border and holed up as soon as Rio had gotten word of Marta, knowin’ just how quick they had to move to pull Vinny out before he could burrow too deep. Knew how quickly this situation needed handlin’.

Elizabeth hadn’t liked it.

Had done that thing where she’d tried to come with him – goin’ so far this time as to pack a bag and put it in the trunk of his car, plant herself in the passenger seat, and he’d practically had to drag her outta the thing. It hadn’t been until he’d told her she needed to stay to look after the dealership, the drops, keep business runnin’ that she’d agreed (although she’d still been prickly at that).

Truth was, it hadn’t just been business – although he couldn’t exactly deny it’d been good not to have to worry about it, to trust her enough to keep it runnin’ smoothly. Hadn’t even just been about the house neither, although it had been about that too. The kids were still gettin’ used to the new house and the new routine after all, especially hers, and he’s learnt fast how quick those seeds of guilt plant in her when it comes to them, knows how easily they grow, how ripe their fruits are, had known how twisted up she’d get herself if anythin’ happened while they were in Canada and the kids were in Detroit with her sister or her friend or - - worse - - that dumbass ex of hers.

Nah, it wasn’t just that.

What it was was he didn’t like her on these jobs.

Didn’t like her reckless ass ignorin’ plans or mouthin’ off, didn’t like her stormin’ into situations like that face and that body was some sort of armor, and, hell, didn’t like none of these guys lookin’ at that face and that body. Didn’t like them seein’ her, didn’t like them standin’ so close to her, didn’t like the fact that he dreamt of it sometimes. That clenched jaw of hers, somebody else’s gun underneath it, somebody who didn’t have anythin’ stoppin’ them from pullin’ the trigger, and just - -

Shit.

Rio rubs at his head.

He does want a drink.

More than that, he wants a fuck. Wants to release this livewire of tension in him, wants to lose himself in a body underneath him, but the only body he wants is Elizabeth’s, and he could drive home tonight, but that would mean talkin’ to her. Would mean gussyin’ up to her Bambi-eyed interrogation.

She’d be in her ugly ass pyjamas, he thinks, and the picture of it comes too quickly.

Probably the ones he hates the most. The cream satin ones with those little orange flowers. Sittin’ up in their bed, nipples hard, pokin’ up through her shirt, those pale cheeks of hers flushed pink, her eyes a little wet, her hair a mess, waitin’, breathless, for him, and - -

He snorts.

Who’s he kidding?

More likely angrily scrubbin’ dishes at 2am and ready to ask him a million questions he don’t wanna answer.

Shit.

Marta and Vinny.

“You know Vinny’s family?” Rio asks, turning back towards Demon, who nods. “Send ‘em the usual?”

“50g? You wanna send it cash or wire transfer?”

Rio tilts his head from side-to-side, considering.

“Cash,” he decides. “Send a hundred to Marta’s. Deliver it in person. We’re gonna need a new connect for the pills.”

Demon just hums in affirmation, flicking ash off the end of his cigarette, before he says: “I’ll stick around a few days. Get it sorted. Take it this means it’s a no for the drink?”

Rio blinks, surprised, hadn’t even quite realised that that was what he was doing, but as soon as Demon’s said it, he knows he’s right.

Thing is, it ain’t even like Elizabeth’s the first woman he’s wanted to lose himself in after bad days, just it’s barely even about fucking her at this point. Just - - he wants to bury himself in her until she’s all he can smell, until the taste of her skin is hot on his tongue, until he’s close enough to her he can count her eyelashes, and shit, that ain’t a thought he’s used to. Ain’t even one he’s particularly comfortable with.

Just - - he thinks of another cold night in the hotel alone and tense, and then thinks about bein’ home instead, thinks of her asleep, thinks of not wakin’ her to postpone her questions and the inevitable argument, thinks of crawlin’ into bed beside her, layin’ his head on her breast, the softness of her beneath him remindin’ him of all the ways he ain’t, her heartbeat fluttering beneath his ear, the way, only half awake, she runs her nails down his scalp, the way she smooths her too-smooth fingers at the base of his neck, and it’s urgent suddenly. The need in him.

He could be there in two hours.

“Call me tomorrow, yeah? Let me know how you go? Keep Diego with you. Show ‘im the ropes.”

Demon makes an acknowledging gesture with his hand, and Rio heads out into the night.

The house is dark when he pulls up, the only light comin’ from the back porch because Elizabeth swears it makes her feel safe (like the half a million dollar security system he bought doesn’t), and it means she’s not expecting him. Means she might actually be asleep. Means maybe she took him seriously for a change when he told her to stop waitin’, stop callin’, that he’d back when it was over.

He slips into the house, disarming the security system and beelining for the laundry. He kicks his shoes off, washes his face, his bruised hands in the sink, before filling it to soak his bloodied clothes in, adding the disinfectant from the cupboard, and stripping off to his boxer briefs there and then. It had been at Elizabeth’s insistence the first time he’d done this that they add the lock to the laundry room door, just to keep the kids out, and he’s glad for it now, for the ability to leave his shirt there, reddening the water, without worry.

Running a hand over his face, he grabs a pair of sweats and a t-shirt from the pile of clean laundry in the basket, steps out, fixes himself a drink at the bar cart in the living room, finishes it there alone, trying to steady his hands, his breath, to calm his frayed nerves before he allows himself the comfort of bein’ beside her. Tries to wrestle out of the maw of the last few days, of Vinny’s slack jaw and Marta in a body bag, scrubbing briefly at his face and finishing the last of his drink before starting up the stairs towards bed.

There’s somethin’ to be said there about the moonlight through the window, the too soft glow of the night outside of here, softening everything in its path, and Elizabeth is right there in the middle of it, curled up on her side in their bed, her hair fanned out against their pillows, bags beneath her eyes like she hasn’t slept well in days, which - - fuck, somethin’ in him twists at the thought, but then – right there, nestled into her chest, is Marcus.

It’s enough to make Rio stop in the doorway, dig his arm into the doorframe, enough it might leave a mark, enough it pinches. He should leave him, he thinks, slide into bed beside ‘em and leave it be, but then - -

Vinny’s blood is thick on his hands tonight, the weight of him heavy on his back, and he needs Marcus just - - away from it. Away from him, at least until the mornin’ comes, at least until he’s had the time to put this night behind him, to wash the stench of it off, and shit, he thinks, almost crawling out of his skin, leg jittery with tension beneath him. This ain’t somethin’ to be shared, not with him.

He strides quietly over to the bed, gently tugging his son out of Elizabeth’s arms, relieved more than anything when Marcus comes easily. He lifts him up, carrying him quietly down the hall and flipping on the light to his bedroom. It’s neat at least, which makes it easy to take him down, to flip over the sheets of his bed and lower his son into them. His head’s barely hit the pillow when suddenly big, dark eyes are bein’ turned on him, the kid’s little mouth fallin’ open like a spell.

“Daddy?”

“Go to sleep, pop,” Rio hums, and when Marcus tries to sit up, he gently pushes him back down.

“You’re home!”

“Nuh, but I will be tomorrow. You’re dreamin’ right now, yeah?” he keeps his voice low, dulcet, brushes his hands through Marcus’ hair, tucking him back down beneath the covers. “Faster you fall asleep, faster you’ll wake up, faster I’ll be home.”

And he doesn’t think the kid really believes it, but still, Marcus hums sleepily, happily, back at him, his eyes driftin’ shut again and Rio just - - watches him. Watches the rise and fall of his chest and the flutter of his eyelashes and he thinks how easily he could never see it again, like Marta won’t, like Vinny, and just - - shit.

He rubs a hand hard over the back of his head.

Not worth thinkin’ about now, he tells himself, slipping back out of his bedroom and heading back towards his own. It’s only then that the exhaustion really catches up with him – hits him square between the shoulders like somethin’ out of a cartoon, and he swipes at his forehead as he heads back towards their bed, gaze only flicking up to see Elizabeth sleepin’ soundly, the soft curve of her body like an invitation, and his eyes travel too easily down her, from her peaceful face to the arc of her shoulder and the dip of her waist, the long trail of her legs and - - he just - -

Stops.

There’s a lump at the foot of their bed, tangled up in the sheets, and Rio steps slowly towards it, eyeing off the mound of it when the lump squirms back suddenly, and shit, Rio thinks. He rolls his eyes, reaches for the blankets, lifting it just in time to see Jane peer back up at him, dubby in her fist, her little face scrunched up, half hidden in a bunny rabbit onesie and it must be a hand-me-down from Emma, because she’s swimmin’ in it.

“’ey,” he hums, and Jane blinks up at him, bright eyed, before she pants like a dog, wiggles her butt, goes to bark, but Rio frowns, pushes a finger to his lips and jerks his head to where Elizabeth is sleeping.

“Don’t wake your mama up. C’mon.”

He holds his hands out for her to leap into, only she pulls her face into a little scowl, shaking her head.

“No,” Jane growls, and Rio rolls his eyes again, frustration sparking in his belly.

“I ain’t playin’, darlin’, c’mon. It’s way past bedtime.”

And Jane just - - shit, she sticks out her tongue, and Rio exhales sharply, feels the stress of the day and the exhaustion of tonight press hard at his temples, but he smooths out his expression as best he can, reachin’ over to her, only she’s trying to tangle herself up in her mother’s legs, and Jesus, Elizabeth must be real tired if this don’t even wake her. Before Jane can get herself too wrapped up, Rio moves closer, pluckin’ her out of bed by the back of her onesie and pulling her unceremoniously away from Elizabeth.

He intends to lift her straight up into his arms and walk her to bed like he’d just done Marcus, but Jane starts thrashin’ the second she’s in the air, and shit, Rio grunts and then he’s gotta loosen his grip or he might accidentally hurt her, but loosenin’ his grip only serves to make Jane spring off the bed and sprint down the hallway in a flurry of pink fleece and animal ears. Behind him, Elizabeth stirs, and Rio’s head whips around, waiting for her to resettle before he moves quietly to the doorway. Jane’s standing at the top of the stairs, her little face peering out from beneath her bunny rabbit hood, and Rio frowns at her, gesturing his head to her bedroom.

Jane shakes her own head furiously in reply, and Rio exhales sharply, stepping out into the hallway, unsurprised when Jane retaliates by clutching at the railing and starting down the stairs, and shit, he thinks, picking up his step. The booties on her pyjamas are so big she’s gonna trip herself up, tumble head-first over them. He moves quickly enough to grab her underneath the arms and when she starts to yelp and thrash again, he spins her quickly in his arms, until they’re practically nose-to-nose.

“What’d you want?” he asks her, staring her down, because shit, his nerves ain’t here for tantrums tonight, and Jane just looks back at him, long and hard, little jaw rockin’, and this kid really is somethin’ else, and as much as he hates to admit it, if he were in a better mood, he might be amused.

“Special drink,” Jane settles on, and Rio arches an eyebrow at her, about to tell her it ain’t the time, but then - - shit, Elizabeth’s concoction of milk heated on the stove, honey, cloves and cinnamon really does seem to knock ‘em out. Maybe he can ground in a Nyquil to help.

“Then you go to your bed?”

Jane nods, and Rio does too, resignedly pushing her onto his hip and taking the stairs two at a time until he hits the bottom. He thinks about just depositing Jane on the couch, lettin’ her watch somethin’ bland and g-rated on the TV, but then he doesn’t really trust her not to sneak up the stairs, back beneath Elizabeth’s arm, and if she gets there again, Rio’s knows he’s gonna be subjectin’ himself to the couch.

So he deposits her on a stool at the kitchen island instead, glancing around the kitchen only to stop when he spots the pot on the stove and the spice packets already on the bench. He walks over, grabbing the pot and looking at the thin rim of milk build-up cooked into the sides of it.

“Looks like your mama already made special drink,” he says, rinsing out the pot and Jane just shakes her head.

“She made it for Marcus, not me,” Jane tells him. “She always makes it, so it’s not special anymore. It’s just regular drink.”

Rio arches an eyebrow, glancing back at her.

“That right?” he asks. “But it’s special drink when I make it?”

“Yup.”

And shit, she might be right. He ain’t ever made it before, and at least the fact that Elizabeth’s already made it for Marcus tonight means the ingredients are there for him. He racks his head for the steps, for the muscle memory of havin’ watched her make this thing a million times before, and - - right, milk on the stove. He grabs a jug from the fridge.

“Your hand looks funny.”

Rio glances over at Jane as he moves to flick the stove on, that damn blanket of hers half shoved in her mouth, the floppy rabbit ears of her hood hangin’ down past her shoulder. He looks at his hand and the bruises really are bad – a dark, bloomin’ purple that he knows will only stiffen over the next few days. Will swell and throb and he resists the urge to shake it out.

“Yeah?” he asks, and Jane rocks her head from side-to-side, considering.

“It’s like when I felled over. Did you felled over?”

“Fall,” he corrects, and when he looks over at her, Jane’s blinking at him in confusion, her blue eyes wide, her lips parted. He clarifies: “Did you fall over? Not felled, darlin’.”

“Did you fall over?” Jane echoes, and Rio turns back to the milk on the stove, reaching for the cinnamon. He looks at his knuckles as he shakes in the spice, and wonders if he should’ve worn gloves, somethin’ that might’ve covered them from view.

“Somethin’ like that,” he replies, capping the spice cannister, and it takes Jane a minute to reply, like she’s processin’ it, workin’ out what she want to say, and Rio lets her, his gaze fixed down on the way the cinnamon turns the colour of the milk, brownin’ it up. He blinks and sees the cinnamon, he blinks and he sees the blood on Vinny’s pale cheek.

He grabs the packet of cloves.

“Is that why you went away?”

Shit, how much of this stuff does Elizabeth usually put in? He shoves a finger into the packet of cloves, nudging them around, and finally scoops out a handful, watchin’ them bob around in the milk.

“What’d your mama say?”

“That you had to work.”

“Your mama ever lied to you?”

“No.”

“So I was workin’,” he tells her easily, glancing back around to look at her, and it ain’t exactly sudden, seein’ Emily in Jane’s place, propped up at the kitchen island, but it still takes him by surprise, makes him rock his jaw, jerk his head away, try to focus on the simmer of the milk and the sound of Jane’s feet, thumpin’ against the chair.

Jane ain’t Emily, she ain’t gonna lose a parent to this. She -

“When my daddy goes away for work, he brings us presents home,” Jane says, and Rio snorts.

Okay, maybe she’ll lose one parent to this. Rio can’t exactly say he’s keepin’ Dean off any lists. Shit, might be addin’ him to a few. (Not really, although - - he ain’t rulin’ it out). Still, he shifts his weight back, grabbing a spoon to scoop in some honey.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like candy or dollies.”

The honey oozes off the spoon into the milk, like Vinny’s bloodied drool to the concrete floor, and Rio’s voice is duller than he means when he says:

“Huh. Why you think he do that?”

Jane pauses, and the question must surprise her, her little mouth hangin’ open for a moment, until she shoves the dubby in it instead. Rio has to resist the urge to tug it out, had made that mistake only a few weeks after movin’, had had to endure Jane’s hysterics and Beth’s frustration (“She only started doing it after Dean moved out, it comforts her, just - - leave it, please.”)

“I don’t know,” Jane replies now around a mouthful of blanket, and Rio hums, grabbing her sippy cup off the strainer and pouring in the milk, making sure it’s not too hot in the process. He puts the top on, and glances at her, considering. He could just give it to her here, but in the end he holds up his hands, and Jane moves easily into them this time, lets him carry her to the couch, lets him hold her as he flops down on it, her body sideways in his lap, cradled in his arms like he’d do when Marcus was a toddler, like he still does sometimes, when he’s sick or needy.

And it’s funny, coz Jane fits like Marcus used to. Kid had a growth spurt recently after all, overtakin’ even Emma, and it all serves to make Jane all the tinier. Like her aunt, Rio thinks, briefly amused, then – more so, huffing out a laugh – like her mama when she finally pulls her pumps off at the end of the night.

(How big are Marta’s kids? Does he even know?)

“Order’s up,” he tells Jane, passing her the cup and letting her wriggle up until she’s practically using his arm as a hammock, her legs sprawled out across his own. She takes a generous drink only to reel slightly up.

“Yuck,” she says, spluttering, and Rio groans looking down at her, grabbing the cup and taking a sip, only to cough because shit - - it’s bad. Way too much cinnamon, enough it tastes almost like ash in his mouth, and maybe he’ll just leave it out entirely this time. Can’t fuck up just milk and honey, can he? He moves to get up, to make another, when Jane suddenly snatches at the cup again, clutching the sippy to her chest before shoving the nozzle back into her mouth. “No, I like it.”

And figures, Rio thinks, arching an eyebrow down at her as she wriggles back against his chest, sucking on the sippy cup, her eyes already half-lidded. He feels his own lids drop too, like they’re playin’ some game of Simon Says (go to sleep), and he could almost doze himself when Jane reaches the hand not holdin’ the cup out to his. She pushes out a tiny pointer finger and taps him on each of his bruised knuckles and he just - - watches her do it. Watches this scrap of Elizabeth play the hand he broke Vinny’s jaw with like a piano.

“Marcus and mommy are upset at you,” she says suddenly, half muffled around the sippy cup, and Rio’s gaze shifts from their hands to her face, but she ain’t lookin’ at him. She’s lookin’ at their hands, and after a minute, he sighs.

“I know,” he tells her. “They don’t like it when I gotta go away like that. I don’t like it neither, but sometimes I just gotta.”

Jane sucks the nozzle back into her mouth, staring up at him now, her eyes unblinkin’, and he always thinks it’s her sister that looks most like Elizabeth, but this one doesn’t go without, not with the steadiness of her gaze and the set to her jaw.

“It’s three,” she tells him, and Rio blinks down at her.

“What’s three?”

“Three times you gone away.”

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t that, and Rio stares at her, unblinking now, as Jane holds up her hand.

“Just after we moved here,” she ticks it off on her fingers. “Then the other time, now this time. That’s three.”

And shit, she ain’t wrong. He mostly thought Jane barely noticed. Not like anyone would ever mistake her for the most perceptive of Elizabeth’s kids (not that any of ‘em really are), but Jane’s all energy and distraction and shit. He’s been busy. He’s always busy, and Marcus has never liked it. Never liked the fact that sometimes he just gotta move, gotta bring things back, gotta handle things, but - -

“It’s not always like this,” he says, and Jane looks up at him, and there are too many expressions that pass over her round little face – disbelief and childish frustration until it finally settles on somethin’ else, somethin’ softer, less certain, somethin’ he ain’t seen on her face, at least not somethin’ he’s seen directed at him.

“You didn’t say bye,” she says finally, her voice small, and Rio exhales, annoyed.

“I did, darlin’,” because he did. Shit, got to fight about it with Elizabeth and leave Marcus red faced and weepy, made sure of that, but then - -

He looks at Jane and any self-righteousness dies on his tongue.

“Not to you though, huh?” he says softly, and Jane shuffles back into his arm, presses her forehead into his chest, out of sight, the nozzle of the sippy cup sucked into her mouth like a bottle, keeps herself looking away from him, and Rio exhales. He looks down at his bruised hands, then at her feet, where the booties of her onesie hang limply down the side of the couch, her feet lost somewhere in the legs of the thing, the hood of it hangin’ so far down her face it almost covers her eyes, and he reaches up to tug it back, just enough he can see her.

“’m sorry. Think maybe I’m still gettin’ used to this,” he says, because he hadn’t said goodbye to any of Elizabeth’s kids. Had trusted her to do it for him, had treated them like they were just a part of her, but - -

They ain’t.

They’re - -

Well.

Fuck.

Jane looks up at him, her eyes a little glassy and just - - he ain’t sure what that is, the feelin’ in his gut, hollowing itself out. “Can you be the first one I say hey to instead?”

She makes a show of turnin’ it over, her squirming against his chest and drinkin’ that goddamn awful drink he’s made her, but then she nods, and Rio tugs on one of her rabbit ears.

“’ey, Jane,” he says quietly. “You been good for your mama while I been gone?”

And she grins a little at that, shakes her head into his chest again, giggling before she can stop herself, and Rio smiles too, but rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He almost reaches out to her, but before he gets the chance to, Jane wriggles up his body, curls her arms around his neck, and Rio leans down, scooping her up closer, feeling her collapse sleepily into his chest, still slurping at that drink, and hell if that ain’t commitment. He exhales a laugh, dropping a hand to her back, and it practically takes up the width of it, and he can’t say what he feels, feelin’ the rise and fall of her chest against his, her snufflin’ breaths against his shoulder.

And it’s hard enough, but then he exhales and he hears Vinny’s last one, and his hand tightens on her back, and he just - -

Needs to put her to bed.

Needs her safe and happy and dreamin’ of her mama and Paw Patrol and out of his nightmares, and when he stands up this time, starts up the stairs, when he finally does put her to bed, she don’t make a sound.

And then just, tuckin’ her in - - all his energy’s gone, sapped out of him, and any jittery tension he’d needed to lose has gone cold in his chest, left him pulled thin and stretched out, and shit, he thinks, rubbing furiously at his forehead, it’s just - -

Just is, he reminds himself.

There wasn’t a way around it. Not a way that’d keep him and his safe.

And he can do this for his ma, he can do it for his sisters, he can do it for his son.

Can do it for Elizabeth and her kids too.

Can - - he exhales, leavin’ the thought alone, pulling his hand away from his face, grabbin’ the sippy cup from Jane’s iron grip instead and droppin’ it to her bedside table so it don’t soak through her sheets, flickin’ on her nightlight before slipping out of her room.

And it figures, that Elizabeth would be awake now, when he finally gets back to their (freshly) childfree bedroom, her blue eyes blinkin’ sleepily back at him, from her - -

Nah, he realises, his pillow.

“You put the kids to bed?” she whispers, pushing herself up onto her elbow, and Rio nods stripping off his t-shirt, arching his back, hearing it crack.

“You’re home earlier than I thought you’d be,” she adds, and Rio nods, padding over to the bed. He should leave his sweats on, knows he should, but for whatever reason, he can’t quite make himself. Just wants to be rid of them, rid of his underwear, rid of all of it. Wants to shower, but doesn’t have the energy to, so instead he just strips everythin’ off, sliding into bed beside Elizabeth.

She doesn’t complain for a change, doesn’t squawk or pout or nag him to put his clothes back on. She just watches him, her blue eyes too clear, her features drawn.

“Is it done?” she asks, and Rio sighs.

“Would I be home if it weren’t?”

It’s sharper than he means it to be and she looks a little wounded, and Rio exhales, because shit, he’s the one who don’t want this fight. Just looks at her for a moment, and it ain’t fair, that she can look this sweet, that her eyes and her body can sing like a siren in the night, callin’ for him across borders, across countries, callin’ him home, and he reaches a hand to touch her face because he wants to - - needs to feel her, but shit, it was the wrong move, because she’s gaspin’, grabbin’ his hand instead, a high-pitched sound escaping her throat when she sees how bruised it is.

“Let me see it.”

He yanks his hand out of her grip, curling it around her waist instead, pulling her beneath him, entangling their legs, hidin’ his hand half up her pyjama shirt.

“Are you hurt?” she asks, and he can tell she wants to squirm out of his grip, to try and flip ‘em over so she can look at him properly, find somethin’ to nurse, but she ain’t got a clue how hurt he actually is, so won’t do it, and for once, he don’t want to correct her.

“Keep askin’ questions and I might just have to kiss you,” he drawls, the to shut you up implied as he nestles his face into her chest, nosing between the buttons on her pyjama shirt so forcefully that the tip of it brushes the inner curve of her breast, inhaling deeply the faint smell of sweat and peach bodywash and that smell beneath it all that’s just her.

“You say that like it’s a threat,” she replies, the words light, jokin’, but her tone ain’t real, and he knows she’d let him, but he also knows she don’t want him to. That she’d give him sex tonight like a gift, and that’s not how he wants this, not with her, not now. He just - -

Shit, he just wants to hold her, but he don’t know how the fuck to say that.

She inhales above him, a little wet, a little damp, like she might be cryin’ a bit, and she says, “Rio, what – ”

He sucks in a breath, clenches his eyes shut, hand tightening on her waist.

“Not tonight, darlin’,” he says, his voice hoarse, cutting her off, and then - - because how can he say the rest of it? He just says: “Please.”

The word hangs between them, and then it’s those too-soft fingers of hers, pressin’ tentatively to the back of his neck, and he exhales, harsh and wet against her breast, sinking his head heavily down against her chest, his mouth open as her fingers firm there and he knows she’ll be back on this shit tomorrow, that he’ll have to tell her somethin’, that he’ll have to make sure that money gets to Marta’s kids and to Vinny’s, that the compensation will be nothin’ but he lets Elizabeth massage the guilt out of his neck for now and finally he lets his eyelids flutter shut.

#beth x rio #prompt fills #the center and circumference #domesticity #beth boland #rio #marcus #jane boland #my fic

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fangirlingatstuff · 5 years ago

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Ultrogon meet v. 1

(So I have multiple versions of how Rogon and Ultron meet, and Im bored so Im gonna post the first one here)

That night was hard.

Rogon could barely feel her legs as she dropped herself onto the floor of her cabin, hidden from the rest of the world.

Her spines shivered as she crawled, closer and closer to the couch in the middle of the room. The blood leaking from her side smeared on the wood floors, staining the carpet.

She finally clawed her way to the sofa. With a grunt, she pulled herself up to it.

Pain flared in her side. How stupid. How stupid was she to be caught in a storm, of all things?

Derecho had her laid out on a butchers block.

The pain nearly faded away the longer she sat still. Her tail was stiff from the fight, burning from the jerk on her spine.

How did she get into this? This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t on the field, she wasn’t even in enemy territory.

She was just trying to relax for a while, while her body heals from her prior...episode.

And yet, they followed her here. To the middle of nowhere Eastern Europe, in the middle of winter.

A tear slipped past her eye.

Her aching back made her grind her teeth, and for two hours, she sat on the couch, without moving.

She hasn’t responded to any reports. Hasnt responded to any messages, hasnt responded to any notes or letters or questions.

Where are you?

Rogon, where did you go?

Are you okay? Are you safe?

Please tell me you’re safe.

Ro, come home, please.

It killed her not to answer. It killed her to take a breath and look away from the screens.

But now, at this moment, she couldn’t risk her cover being blown. Her location leaking out to the rest of the Brood.

She rolled onto her side, tail flexing in pain. “Ow...” she groaned. Did she really have to be thrown into a tree? Hm? Was that necessary?

Tink.

Her ears shot up. Immediately, every scale, spine and hair stood on end. Something moved.

She shoved herself up and looked behind her. The back door was open, just slightly.

She always locked her doors, always kept every window sealed shut, but she did leave one door unlocked in case she needed to get away.

There were some tracks leading away from the door. They seemed human enough, thank Hell, but still. Any kind of compromise could spoil her location.

So, she rolled off the couch and landed on the ground without making any noise.

She sniffed the air. The smell of metal and smoke wafted through the air, so faint, yet still recent enough. She frowned and followed the prints to the stairs.

Was someone trying to escape the cold? If so, this was the worst place to be. She had no heaters, only surviving off of her own warmth, her millions of sweaters and blankets, and the fire that blazed in her throat. Everything smoldered to an ash the moment she left the house.

Her steps barely made a creak on the wood. Her tail slowly retreated and melted away, spines digging under her skin.

If it was a human, she’d hate to be caught.

Or, she could have a fresh meal. Grilled lumberjack sounded good, just about now.

Rogon made it up the stairs and slowly creeped down the hall.

There was a door open.

A door she didn’t remember opening earlier.

Her hand pressed against the door. “Alright,” her voice snarled out in a choked static, “alright...if you’re in here to kill me, clap your hands!”

Clap clap

“Oh bullshit,” her feet left the floor and she nearly jumped the entire staircase.

“Wait wait! I was joking!” She stopped, glancing at the door. It was a masculine voice. Rich, but glitchy.

Rogon took a few steps back to the door, and lightly pushed it open. The creak did nothing to calm her nerves, and neither did the bright red eyes staring at her.

Her face fell, “Holy shit.”

In the darkness, she could see a broken yet complicated frame. Sparks flew off of its side, metal plating its body.

A machine.

No, she thought, a robot.

“I’m sorry for the lack of lights,” it waved a servo around. Its voice was fuzzy, like it was being projected from a speaker. “But this house is horribly equipped.”

She sneered, “What are you doing in my house?” Her hands clawed in her gloves.

It must have noticed her reaching for the pistol on her belt, because it quickly raised its hands. “Please please! I promise, I don’t mean any harm!”

She scoffed and looked it in its blank red eyes. It looked very much like one of the Stark’s drones, but with some artistic liberties added to it. Its face was one single plate, with the same basic concept of Stark’s helmet, but an open jaw, and more narrowed optics.

“And what’s one of Stark’s drones doing with an AI attached to it?” She lifted her head up, looking down at the drone with enough malice to tackle an elephant.

It stood up quickly. “I am not one of Stark’s drones!” It snapped.

“No, but you are controlling one,” she snapped right back.

“...fair enough,” it relaxed, and she could get a better look at it as it was standing before her.

One leg was nearly completely locked up, with all that’s left of its right arm being a bunch of dangling wires. The side of its body was blown up and burnt, its shoulder plate torn off.

“Woah,” she snorted, “what kind of hell did you crawl out of?” She entered the room entirely, looking the machine up and down.

It shifted its weight, the floor creaking as it did so. “I didn’t know any one lived here.”

“Well, someone does,” she raised a brow. Her sides tightened as she crossed her arms.

“I just need a place to stay, to regroup,” it said. “I will not cause any damage—“

“You broke into my house.”

“It wasn’t that hard. The door knobs are broken.”

Rogon narrowed her eyes and cursed just as the chill of ice cold wind broke through the window. “You opened a window?!” She yelped and rushed over. The slam shut rattled the entire house. “Are you mad?! It’s cold as hell out there!”

“It was open when I came in,” it snarked. “The wind must have blown it open.”

Rogon breathed out. This was going to get her killed, wasn’t it? Oh well. Curse her pitying heart.

She looked over her shoulder. “Do you...have a name?”

She heard the sound of whirring machinery as it shifted again, “...Ultron.”

“Ultron? That’s a typical robot name.”

“Wait, do you not recognize it?” It sounded incredulous, like she had to have heard it before. “Do you not watch the news?”

“Do you see a tv anywhere?” She asked, gesturing around.

“No phone? No computer?”

“No. I use radio services,” she pulled out a walkie talkie from her waist clip.

The robot looked at her in what she deemed to be surprise.

She never heard of it before. “Okay, Ultron,” she turned around and sighed, putting her hands together. “I’ll let you stay here. But you have to promise me you aren’t some kind of, oh, I don’t know, spy software or some shit.”

It tilted its head at her, “Are you one of those government conspiracy fanatics?”

She scoffed, “No. I’m from Russia.”

He made a sound like he was clicking his tongue, “Ah.” Yes, that always makes total sense. “No, I am not any government intelligence software. I promise you that.”

Rogon nodded with a hum and started to walk out the door. “I hope you don’t need to eat,” she said with a laugh, “because I do not hunt for others.”

It chuckled lightly. “Oh no, I prefer my rabbit without fur. Or meat. Or bones. Really, I don’t want anything on my rabbit.”

She almost laughed at that. As she went down the stairs with a very visible limp, she heard it walk out of the room. The heavy clunks would have to take getting used to. But she wouldn’t be staying for long. “Are you hurt?” It asked.

“No, I walk like this for fun,” she grunted. With her entire weight on one side of her body, she was stretching her limits out thin. Usually, she’d be walking on her wings.

But she couldn’t risk that kind of exposure.

“Are your legs always like that?” She heard it begin walking down the stairs.

“I was thrown into a tree,” she quipped, walking to the couch. “Now, if it please you, Ultron, Imma fall asleep.”

The walking stopped. “Now, how rude would it be if a host didn’t give her guest her name?”

She stopped and looked at it. Did she give him her real name? She supposed it wouldn’t hurt. She technically didn’t exist to humans, anyways.

“My name’s Rogon,” she said and lied down. Her spines stretched against her back, and she was completely uncomfortable all throughout the night.

#ultron #marvel #bear|trap #rogon novak #Ultrogon #aou #age of ultron #oc

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inkribbon796 · 5 years ago

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The Other Side

Summary: Anti’s bored, and he does terrible things when he’s bored. Virgil just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. So the heroes have to save the day, without roughing Anxiety up too much in the process.

Encore: Right Here, Right Now

Virgil lived with Deceit and Remus, and he hated every part of it. The place they stayed at was in one of the worst parts of town, and they’d been living there for over a year now. It was never warm enough. Deceit’s first order of business when acquiring the place was to get his hands on a number of heaters and keep the room they slept in warm. But unless you were in that room, it was freezing.

So Virgil walked out of the apartment in normal clothing and hung around King’s Park, just crowd watching. He had his headphones in and his hood drawn up.

His favorite thing about the park was that if you wanted to be left alone, people left you alone. Except for the hiccup with Yan and the police one night, even Dark’s enforcers and network stayed out of the park. It helped Virgil feel like he had some type of privacy.

He stayed at the park for a while, and when he finally got hungry, went for a walk to figure out what he wanted, making sure to go in costume so that people would keep leaving him alone.

Something that turned into a bad idea when he heard the sound of a power box on top of the radio arching. Virgil looked back to see Anti scratching his claws against the electrical box, Natemare was standing next to him with a bag in his hands. Both of the chaotic villains were smiling at him.

Anti was the one who spoke, “Hey, kid, where’s yer old man?”

“I’m not a kid,” Virgil spat back, trying to get away from the edge of the roof. He was preparing to summon his spider legs to escape. Maybe he could get back to Dark’s area.

“Can’t fly can ye?” Anti took the bag from Natemare, and the other glitch demon turned into electricity and slipped back into the wires of the electrical box, a smile still on his face as he vanished.

“I can cling to walls, I don’t need to fly,” Anxiety trying to sound tough even though his heart was beating almost out of control.

“Good,” Anti smiled. “Yah know, Dark’s usually really tight-lipped about the stuff his boys collect fer ‘im, but he must have gotten wasted because he was carryin’ this . . .”

Anti pulled out what looked like an MP3 player but it looked like something that was probably cursed. “. . . Around like he was proud of it. An’ I figured ye should have it.”

“I’m not touching that,” Virgil snapped. “It looks like it’ll possess me. Why would you even give me that thing?”

Anti shrugged and the thing went up into a string of code, “Cause it’ll make him furious, an’ he won’t let me get close enough to his desk ta piss in his coffee.”

“Then why give it to me, he’ll just think I took it,” Virgil argued.

Walking over, Anti tried to set his hand on Anxiety’s shoulder. Virgil ducked away immediately.

“Why so nervous, guess ye live up to yer name, huh Anx?” Anti laughed. “Well, I’ll see if I can pawn it off to some third rate drug dealer, that’ll flip the town on its head.”

“Yeah, just keep that thing away from me,” Anxiety sprouted out his spider legs and just left, trying to get as far from Anti as possible, and was surprised when no one was following him. So, eager to calm down he grabbed a quiet spot of roof with enough of a protection for him to sit on and lean against, he put in his earphones again.

He was listening to some MCR at first and it was helping, but slowly in the background static began to build and Virgil was getting sleepy.

It wasn’t until he collapsed onto the ground in a head that Virgil realized something was wrong with him. The world seemed fuzzy and he could barely move his eyes.

His panic got worse when Anti appeared in front of him, smiling. Natemare was next to him, holding the MP3 player, hooked up to his own ears.

“Yah know, I think yah got a good head on your shoulders, taking somethin’ from me would’a been a dumb idea,” Anti smiled as he took the player from Natemare but was careful to still keep the headphones in Natemare’s ears. “Shouldn’ta let us walk off with it, though.”

Virgil could feel he was crying as the static in his head began to build, it was getting harder to think, harder to breathe. Anxiety couldn’t even blink anymore, his eyes were just staring at Anti.

“So let’s have some fun, it’s been ages since I’ve had a puppet,” Anti grinned and pressed something on the MP3 and Virgil’s body stood up of its own volition. “You’ll love it, N. It’s the best.”

Virgil was mentally shaking because his body refused to as Anti tossed Natemare the MP3, the other glitch demon was smiling.

For the heroes it was a normal day of patrols, and Logan coming in and out of their routine. All Logan would say was that he was conducting research as a favor to the Host and if he needed assistance, Logan or the Host would ask.

Logan was with Eric and Randall, keeping his watch on them more than anything else.

“At this rate, you’ll make it full time,” Logan smiled, talking to Eric.

“R-Really?” Eric smiled hopefully.

“Your control has greatly improved,” Logan praised.

“Hey, what’d I tell yah,” Randall grinned.

Eric smiled warmly, and then looked back down the street before he paled, pointing, “Uh, guys?”

Logan and Randall looked down the street, but it looked completely normal.

“What do you see?” Logan braced to grab his TASER.

“My dad,” Eric looked like he was about to vomit or curl up into a ball in sheer terror.

“Eric, he’s dead,” Randall reminded.

Eric took a fearful step back and Logan finally saw something, but it wasn’t Derek. Suddenly Logan was alone on a stage with bright lights shining down at him. Everything felt wrong, like he’d been forced to down five cups of coffee, each with about three shots of espresso, one right after the other. He could see a couple wrinkles and old stains on his favorite button-down shirt and tie.

“Thomas Sanders,” a disembodied voice in the darkness called out before Logan was hit with a string of trivia. Some he could answer, others he couldn’t. Every wrong answer or even slightly incorrect one was met by a harsh sounding buzzer. It barely took three questions before Logan realized he’d been caught in Anxiety’s fear powers, how he’d been caught so flatfooted was beyond him.

The whole ordeal was a little too frustrating and taxing on Logan, and the situation seemed to be already spiraling out of control.

“You’re not real,” Logan tried to fight the illusion, but it felt like he was hitting a brick wall with nothing but his bare fists. As if he knew it was fake, could see a way out, but he couldn’t free himself by just denying it.

Logan kept repeating it, trying to find some crack in Anxiety’s fear illusion. Then, a hand rested on his shoulder. “Lo.”

Logan turned around to see Patton, who looked like he was about to crumple into a terrified heap himself. “Sorry.”

“For?” Logan began before he was knocked out by something behind him. The logical side falling to the ground in a heap.

He woke up an indeterminate amount of time to the sounds of someone arguing. It gave him an instant migraine and he groaned in pain. “Where are Randall and Eric?” Logan asked immediately.

“Oh look, now he’s awake,” Roman said. “They’re sleeping their ordeal off.”

“No thanks to you,” Logan groaned, holding his head. His vision was swimming could someone obtain some painkillers and water.”

“Yeah,” Patton said, “give me a minute.”

Roman opened his mouth, but Logan cut him off.

“You will wait until my headache has abated,” Logan ordered. “Or I will not listen.”

“Fine,” Roman responded grumpily. He was given a little respite to relax and massage his temples.

When he signaled, Roman began, taking a deep breath before letting out a long rant, “Virgil used his fear powers to blanket half the town in a crazed fear spell and now he’s using it to take over the town. This proves he’s evil and needs to be stopped. See this is why we don’t trust villains because they betray, and-or kill us, and really we should have seen this coming. Patton doesn’t believe me, and I need you to talk sense into him.”

Logan just stared at him, waiting to see if he was actually done or not. Then he looked around. “Iplier I need a scientific explanation.”

Roman groaned, “Come on, Lo.”

“Dude, your friend is whack and took out half the city in a gnarly fear trip,” Bing interrupted.

Logan groaned, “I was talking to the Doctor, I’d rather have Roman’s explanation than that one.”

“It was pretty cool though,” Roman praised, offering a fist bump and Bing’s fist tapped his. Dr. Iplier was coming over to explain the situation in terms Logan could understand without a headache

“S’no problemo dude, glad you liked it,” Bing smiles. “But, uh, Anxiety’s probably not working alone.”

“Explain,” Logan turned back to Bing.

“So, I went to scout out what was going on, ‘cause the magic whatever doesn’ work on droids like me and Googs, but Anxiety was with Natemare an’ Anti,” Bing rambled. “So I got out of there, they totally didn’t see me.”

He was with both of ‘em?” Logan asked.

Yeah, it was super weird, dude was just staring out into space,” Bing reported.

“Do you have any video logs on the subject?” Logan demanded. Bing nodded and hooked up the closest Ipad anyone had on hand as he began to play a short clip of Anxiety standing in front of Anti and Natemare, the two of them talking as Anxiety was just staring. Standing unnaturally still.

“That’s a bit creepy, even for him,” Roman admitted.

“Something’s wrong with him,” Patton cut in. “Normally he doesn’t have good posture but his back’s like a piece of plywood.”

“Hold up a sec,” Iplier interrupted, and rushed to the door that contained both his and Henrik’s side offices. “Hey, Henrik, get out here, I need your opinion on something.”

It took a minute, but Henrik was walking out with Iplier, the two of them talking quietly.

Once the German doctor was standing with the group he looked at the clip, his frown becoming a tight, worried line, “Zat is not gud.”

“What?” Edward asked his friend.

Henrik took the recording back a couple seconds and pointed to Virgil. “He is copying Anti.”

“Is this a possession thing?” Dr. Iplier asked. “Anti can still do that right?”

“He’s what?” Patton exclaimed, bringing back Logan’s headache. “What are we going to do? We can’t leave him like that.”

“Patton, don’t scream,” Logan rubbed at his temples.

“This is awful,” Patton took the Ipad, looking heartbroken. “He must be so scared. What can we do to stop Anti?”

“Well, a little nap usually helps,” Henrik admitted. “But he might not like us after’vard.”

“But he’ll be free, that’s good, right, Roman?” Patton turned to him.

Roman hesitated, but after looking at Patton and then the Ipad, he sighed, “Yeah, Mopey Frown doesn’t deserve it.”

“That doesn’t explain what we’re going to do?” Dr. Iplier. “If it was just Anti and Natemare would could probably send a couple guys and have Logan use an EMP bomb.”

The American doctor turned to Logan, “Do you still have one?”

“Yes,” Logan admitted hesitantly. “But Anxiety is purely organic, and even if he wasn’t the range on them is too close. I would become consumed by his abilities.”

“What about Emile?” Bing spoke up. “You guys and King said Em’s got some kind of emotional empathy power like Patton, you just need to see him. Stand five blocks away on a rooftop.”

Patton made an uncomfortable noise, “Yeah, but Anxiety doesn’t like Emile, and Em can’t really do anything if the person’s fighting him. Anxiety’s gonna fight us on every word. Emile’s a bit of a squishy target. Can’t really fight against either Anti or Natemare.”

“You know who can though,” Roman’s face lit up. He looked over at Logan with a huge smile, leaning in closer to him.

Logan groaned. “Fine, if we must.”

“We kinda do,” Roman’s grin didn’t go away, it only got wider.

“Don’t pretend you hate it,” Roman told Logan. “I know you like being Remy.”

“So you two are going to fuse?” Bing asked.

“Yes,” Roman summoned and iced coffee. “Hold this for me, we’re going to want it in a bit. Don’t drink it.”

“You got it bro,” Bing promised.

Quickly Roman pulled Logan into the main area and was still all smiles as the creative Side held both hands up to snap his fingers and the space around them shifted. A twenty foot area around them turned into an old fashioned pub and Logan was now sporting a white button-down shirt and a black vest. Roman in a red vest that wasn’t buttoned.

“Let’s get started,” Roman smiled.

“I won’t cut out halfway into the song again,” Logan warned. “I still have a headache.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it Specs,” Roman smiled. “I wouldn’t dare stop a show tune halfway.”

Roman snapped his fingers as music began coming from the very room around them.

~::~ One Hour Later ~::~

Silver and Jackie were walking down Main St. with Remy walking behind them. The fused Side’s sunglasses over his eyes, drinking his iced coffee.

“So you two coming with me?” Remy asked.

“As soon as Anxiety’s done, we’ll take care ‘a the demons,” Jackie promised.

“Nice, I’m not exactly demon proof,” Remy smile, taking his still free hand and snapped his fingers at Jackie.

Remy set his coffee on top of the closest and safest surface. “Let’s do this,” the fused Side yelled. “Anx won’t stop himself.”

With that Remy stepped into the start of the fear bubble, as the other heroes had taken to calling it, that part of the city was in various states of disrepair. The people trapped in this part had either been rescued or were still causing destruction. Remy felt Virgil’s powers trying to affect him but with two different minds and two different fears, it seemed like it was having a hard time locking onto Remy himself.

Remy did try and knock out as many people as he could, just so they couldn’t keep harming themselves or others. He tried to put them in safe locations. The rest of the heroes could clean up behind him.

It didn’t take long to find Anxiety, neither the glitch demons or Virgil were exactly trying to hide.

“Hey crawler,” Anti caled out time Virgil. “You missed one.”

Virgil turned as if he’d been jolted and Remy could see the panic on Virgil’s face. A panic that seemed to become more frantic when he saw Remy. “No. No. No. No.”

Oh, he looks bad. Roman thought.

Indeed, we need to make this quick. Logan agreed.

“Hey, Anx,” Remy greeted, sand already appearing at his fingertips. He was trying to keep calm and keep a pin on where Anti and Natemare were. “You look like you could use a nap.”

Anxiety’s spider limbs shot out and his hands went up. He took a fearful step back.

Anti snatched the MP3 from Natemare’s hands. “Where do ye think yer goin’ huh?”

“Hey,” Natemare snapped at him, but Anti was messing with it and Virgil took a jolted step forward.

The exchange didn’t go unnoticed by Remy or Logan immediately started studying Virgil.

Now! Logan commanded and Remy smiled. Then he bolted for Virgil who looked even more terrified than before.

“Come on, V for Vendetta, work with me here,” Remy quipped, trying to get close enough to him to grab at the headphones still in his ears.

Virgil dodges, which both Remy and Roman thought was unfair someone with huge spider legs could still be so agile. “No, get away from me,” Anxiety shouted back, he stuck a leg in a piece of metal, probably from a car or a newspaper box and flung it at Remy.

The fusion barely dodged in time, and it almost hit Anti.

“Hey, watch it!” Anti hissed.

Remy glanced back, “Well that works too.”

Virgil kept throwing things at him, bits of rubble, pieces of smoking rubber, rocks, metal; and Remy kept dodging, trying get Anti and Natemare hit in the process.

It turned out that the fusion got to Virgil before the other villains could get hit. Remy tackled Virgil and panicked Side was trying to throw Remy back off.

“No, get off me,” Virgil was in a sheer panic and Remy reached up and grabbed the headphones off, knocking Virgil out with his sleep sand instantly. Anxiety slumping to the ground as the fear effects dissipated almost instantly.

“Shoot,” Anti frowned, walking towards Remy. “Well that was fun at least.”

“Woah, back it up, jazz,” Remy warned, standing between Virgil and the two glitch demons.

“Nah, he was gettin’ borin’ anyways,” Anti smiled, “Hey, interested in a cursed artifact?”

Jackie ran in at full speed, blinging fast with his super speed and slammed his fist into the glitch demon, screaming at the top of his lungs the instant he made contact. Anti violently fractured, but Jackie was now holding the destroyed MP3 player that the two glitch demons had been using.

The speedster cursed and looked around, spiking the device to the ground. Remy was quick to scoop the thing into his pocket and grab Virgil, pulling his arm over his shoulder. “Hey, I got Wednesday Adams,” Remy quipped. “Let’s split.”

“Pass him,” Silver flew over and Remy let the other superhero take the unconscious Anxiety and fly away with him.

“Take him to Iplier, he trusts him,” Remy ordered before turning to Jackieboy Man who was trying to take on Anti while trying to avoid Natemare.

“Come on, Lo,” Remy muttered as he pulled the arm of his jacket up, Logan’s arm brace firmly strapped onto his wrist. “Tell me you calibrated it.”

Remy pressed a couple buttons, using Logan’s memories of the device to time up an EMP blast and grabbed onto of the fake bombs out of his pocket before rushing into the fight and throwing the thing at the two villains. It exploded on contact.

Anti and Natemare screamed and then they were gone. Jackie held his hands up, his nose bleeding and a bit disorientated from the light that had come from the fake EMP bomb.

“They gone?” Jackieboy asked.

“For now,” Remy agreed, holding his own heart. “I’m surprised it got both of them in one go.

Remy and Jackie spent some time with the authorities and the EMT’s, Silver and some of the other heroes arrived to help. Virgil had been dropped off with Iplier, still unconscious from Remy’s sleep sand. After the situation was manageable, the heroes headed back to the base. Mostly to relax, Remy immediately headed over to the medical ward where Ipler and Patton were, tending to a still-unconscious Virgil.

“How’s he doing?” Remy asked.

“You really knocked him out,” Iplier admitted, “but his vitals are stable.”

“Good,” Remy relaxed. “He’s gonna be pissed when he wakes up.”

“Hopefully not,” Patton whispered. “But he’ll probably be confused when he wakes up. I’m gonna make some cinnamon rolls”

“Sounds great, Patt-attack,” Remy lowered his glasses to the end of his nose. “How you doing? Wasn’t any time to ask earlier.”

“I’m good,” Patton smiled.

“Good,” the fused side asked. “How’s Em?”

“Doing well,” Patton’s smile got wider.

“Hey, am I ever going to actually meet Em?” Remy asked.

“As much as I’d like to, I can’t,” Patton looked away.

“A guy’s gotta try,” Remy shrugged, and snapped his fingers over Virgil. The petty thief’s nose twitched, and he groaned. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

Virgil’s eyes immediately shot open and his eyes started to look between Patton and Remy. He screamed and bolted off the table.

“Calm down, we didn’t arrest you,” Remy pushed his glasses up his nose in a Logan-esque manner.

“Did you need to wake him up so abruptly?” Patton frowned, crossing his arms in disapproval.

“Where am I?” Virgil demanded.

“My office,” Iplier interrupted. “The heroes brought you here to recover so you wouldn’t have the news poking at you while you slept.”

“Uhh,” Anxiety looked around, calmed by the fact he clearly wasn’t in handcuffs. “Thanks. I’ll just go.”

“You’re in the Heroes’ base,” Remy reminded, using Roman’s creativity powers to summon himself up a new frappuccino. “Prolly don’t wanna just walk out there just yet.”

“What?” Virgil balked.

Remy slurped noisily at his frappe. “Yeah.”

“I thought I wasn’t under arrest?” Anxiety reminded.

“You’re not,” Patton agreed.

“Haven’t even been read your rights,” Remy cut in. “Certainly can’t keep you here without cause since you obviously didn’t want to be there.”

“So, I can go,” Anxiety stood up.

“Let me level with you,” Remy grabbed a chair and sat down. “You know what I am, right?”

“That’s a stupid question,” Virgil told him. “Of course I do.”

“Then you know I speak from experience when I say you’re in every position to start making deals,” Remy told him. “Stay, talk a bit, and then if you still want Patt and I can walk you out so no one bothers you.”

“Why should I believe you?” Virgil spat.

“Because I’m not Dee,” Remy took another sip of his coffee. “Sides, Logan says your chances are good either way you take it.”

“So what do you guys want?” Virgil asked, sounding suspicious.

“Well,” Patton cut in. “You could join us.”

Anxiety just stared at him, a little surprised laugh slipping out of him, “Excuse me? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Anx, do you wanna spend the rest of your life trailing after Dee and Remus, cleaning up their messes?” Remy leaned in. “Cause that’s what you’re gonna be doing. If you’re really happy with being part of the League then commit and do it, don’t go off and rescue people and then claim to still be one of them.”

“Remy, be nice,” Patton warned.

Virgil was quiet, looking uncomfortable.

“Anx, pardon Rem,” Patton pleaded. “We don’t want you hurt. And I couldn’t stand to see Anti using you like that.”

“What do you care?” Virgil spat back. “Like you three ever cared, I got stiffed with the box and you three were too busy goofing off help me.”

“I regret that every day,” Patton started tearing up. “That I didn’t say something to you first, but I don’t wanna see you keep getting hurt. Logan doesn’t either.”

“Neither does Roman,” Remy interrupted.

Virgil glared at him.

Remy held up his hands, “I can’t turn back into them right now to give Ro a chance to prove it to you. All I can do is ask you to give us time to prove it. Please.”

The hostility in Virgil’s eyes started to soften. It took him a bit to answer, he started playing with his hands for a bit. “I’m not doing patrols, and I don’t do press conferences.”

“Deal,” Remy looked at Iplier and Patton. “I’ll talk to Silver and Jackie.”

“Hey, wait,” Virgil’s anxiety spiked. He stood up, “you can’t just do that.”

“It’ll be fine,” Remy promised, holding the door open for Virgil to step through on his own. A couple leaps of faith.

Nervously drawing his hood over his face, Virgil followed him and Patton, Iplier bringing up the rear of the group but giving Virgil room to flee and move if he needed to. When they entered the main area of the base, Virgil hid behind Iplier.

“E’erythin’ okay?” Jackie asked, looking at Anxiety.

Iplier looked at Virgil, letting Virgil stay behind him. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good,” Jackie nodded. “Anxiety, if you’re on the level, welcome to the group. Take a seat, try and relax.”

Patton smiled at Virgil and went off to go make some cinnamon rolls.

“Th-Thanks,” Virgil told him, looking around the room. His heart was still hammering out of his chest, but no one was attacking him or yelling at him. Virgil was so calm he’d completely forgotten about the deal he made with Dark weeks ago. Anxiety was just working on calming himself down.

Later that night, Anti walked out from the Void and in the middle of Dark’s main warehouse, shaking his head to clear some of the residue bits of the EMP black. He was more than a little angry. None of Dark’s enforcers guarding the place stopped him. “Hey, Dinodark!”

Dark walked out from his office, leaving the door open, a smile on his face as he snapped his neck to his right and straightened out his tie. “Ahh, Anti, you’re alive.”

“What did that thing actually do?” Anti asked. “I knew yah weren’t paradin’ it around fer shits an’ giggles.”

“It served its intended purpose,” Dark shrugged. “I have to thank you for being so predictable and helping out. Anxiety drags his feet and I wanted him out of the League.”

“Well, the hero’s have a new chump working with Logic,” Anti warned. “He had Logic’s tech.”

“A new apprentice?” Dark mused. “This new hero have a name?”

“Don’t know, couldn’t be bothered,” Anti shrugged, pulling a knife out. “You owe me, shitbag.”

“You stole something from me with the intent to harm my network, I owe you nothing,” Dark reminded. “I could have had Anxiety thrown out without your help.”

“Ye owe me Google fer the next month,” Anti argued.

Dark scoffed, already turning around before Anti literally snarled and lunged at the greyscaled entity. The two starting a scuffle between two of them. Dark’s enforcers moved out of the way as Dark’s aura clashed with Anti’s knives.

15 notes · View notes

infinitum-imaginaerum · 6 years ago

Note

F.11 with Wonwoo, please.

Wonwoo | F.11 “I’m just glad you’re safe. I wouldn’t know what to do if I lost you.”

Words | 6,060

Warnings | SWAT!Wonwoo !!!!! Soft bath hours: implied nudity. Lots of kitheth, slight angst?

Notes | This prompt doesn’t belong in the fluff section??? but like??? whatever I guess??? so it’s like… idk 15% angst. Im sry but this is just not a fluffy prompt hahaa. And as I said, many kisses. Please check the status of the game in my blog description before requesting!

Send a bias, a section, and a number and I’ll write you a thing!

You’d met Wonwoo through the NIS, or the National Intelligence Service, when the two of you were just young trainees at the ripe age of eighteen. The two of you were among the best shots of your time, and quite quick on your feet. Your risk analysis was incredible for someone your age, problem solving skills; recon mission assessments were all but too weak for the two of you. It was if you had been training for this all of your lives; the field agent aspect.

Constantly, the two of you were competing with each other, though it was mostly in fun as you both were above and beyond excelling in your academy. You were just kids back then, looking on to bigger and better and more dangerous and riskier things, getting into the NIS. Not only was the security of the country to be put in your hands, but the most serious criminal cases often crossed your teams after graduating your academy.

Wonwoo went to the National Police Agency soon after the two of you had gone your separate ways, dropping out of NIS. The two of you still often worked together when dealing with the more serious cases, as he was a top-tier member of the SWAT unit. Outside of work, the two of you often met for coffee, discreetly discussing cases in the open even though it was highly frowned upon. Both of you had set up your own list of code-words to make it sound like you were talking about ordinary things.

Here you were, now, four years down the road after entering the academy, two years into your separate forces. You and Wonwoo had occasionally entertained the idea of a relationship in passing in the beginning years, mostly as a joke to one another, not that neither of you had feelings for each other.

Because, in the feelings department, the both of you were raging.

His smile was much more attractive, his laugh made your skin crawl in the best way; his eyes held the galaxies, and his touch—oh, his touch lit you up like nothing else. It always had, since you first met, but now it was magnified, tenfold, and goodness were you weak for a man in a bullet-proof vest. A weird thing to be wired about, especially in your line of business, they were a dime a dozen.

You remember the first time you saw him in his tactical uniform, though he was a little more of a show off about it than most of the others. He was a sniper, so he didn’t need as much mobility from the bagginess of the uniforms. Often, when you caught him after a call, he looked so incredibly dashing in a tight black turtleneck, his cargo pants belted to his hips securely, a bullet-proof vest peeking out of the cover he was supposed to be wearing.

As the old saying went, you loved a man in uniform. It just was odd, coming from someone who shared a similar uniform from time to time, when you weren’t prim and proper in a skirt-suit or something similar working actual files for the cases at the confines of your desk—the desk Wonwoo often invited you away from. He insisted on buying your coffee every single time as repayment for taking you away from that work. Sometimes, when he couldn’t take you away from it, he brought the coffee to you and closed the door to your office silently behind him.

Everyone knew something was up between the two of you, everyone at NIS and NPA. Most of them just assumed you were dating already; it wasn’t as if their assumptions weren’t in the right direction. Others knew the details of your struggles with one another—it was hard to commit to someone in your field, knowing the risks that came through every single day while on that job. Still, Wonwoo persisted.

Often, he invited you out for dinner, just the two of you. Most times, you rejected with a soft blush and the shake of your head, even as he reached for your hand, trying to convince you to go out with him. But sometimes, you agreed. He always took you somewhere really nice, the both of you getting dressed up to go out since it was few and far between. Those were the nights the two of you most adamantly considered a relationship, when he dropped you off on your doorstep to share a kiss, or two, or three, or more when you grabbed his sport coat to pull him through the front door of your home.

You never wanted to admit it to yourself, but you were fully committed to Wonwoo, even if your title didn’t say so. The fact that he stayed with you through the night when they became a little more passionate than the others, or that he was always checking up on you and bringing you coffee, or that he texted you every time he got back from an intervention to let you know he was safe was slowly shattering your non-title. He started staying over at your place more and more, some nights passionate, some nights sweet, either way, when he stayed over, he stayed in your bed.

One thing you may have loved more than seeing him in uniform, was seeing him bare. The warmth of his chest when you slept against him was surreal, despite its frequency. When you’d wake in the morning and peer at his bare back, you couldn’t help but fawn over him, innocently, more often than not. You adored the rasp in his voice, laced with sleep, when he finally would wake and hull you up against him, requesting five more minutes and melted at the sound of your chuckle as you combed through his hair, deeply inhaling your scent masked by his own as you usually dawned his shirts. Half the time he was at your place, half the time he was at his own, despite still paying rent to his roommate.

Today, he was off, which meant he was actually on call, but didn’t have to actively be in the office. He brought a large cup of coffee to your office, strolling through NIS as if he worked there, but he had the clearance, both from NPA and from you. He knocked on your door, listening to your sweet voice invite him in.

“Good afternoon, beautiful,” he uttered to you, lightly kicking the door closed behind him as he set your coffee in front of you.

“Good afternoon, handsome,” you replied, a soft smile on your face to match his as you gathered the coffee in your hands, thanking him with a chaste kiss as he planted his hand on your desk, on top of your case file, to lean over to you lips. It wasn’t enough for him, though; he rounded your desk to step between it and your chair and leaned back, resting on your open file to garner a look.

“How are your cases going?” he asked you, fully aware of exactly what he was doing, exacerbating the situation as he plopped his rear on top of said file.

“Well, I was reviewing them to see if I could find any leads…” you trailed off as he lifted one of his legs to fully rest on your desk, hulling it just a little higher than his other hip to open his legs to you. He often did this, attempted to distract you from what you were saying—when you forgot, he won, and would lean down to collect a kiss.

“Jeon Wonwoo!” you protested, but that didn’t stop his kisses from trailing away from your lips and down your neck to what he could reach from the ruffled collar of your blouse.

“Yes, honey?”

“Get your cute butt off my files,” you warned him, turning your head to nip at his ear. He pulled back, giving you a dazzling grin, innocently peering at you but you weren’t having any of it as you took his chin, cupping it with your index finger under his jaw, your thumb pinching it. “Don’t flash that dazzling grin at me, boy,” you continued, shaking his head involuntarily, softly from side to side, “even if you melt my insides when you call me that.”

“You just melt my insides in general,” he replied, causing you to push him away with a firm hand on his chest as he giggled, teasing you.

You rolled your eyes as he stood from your desk, doing as you asked to pull up a chair next to yours. He watched you cup your coffee, gingerly sipping from it now and again as he settled into his seat until he was gnawing at his lip, looking at you, getting a little shy which was unusual for him. Your brows rose in question, coaxing it out of him and he cleared his throat.

“Can I pamper my baby for a minute?” he asked you, watching you melt at the pet-name. It got you every single time, no matter which one it was, when he called you something cute like that. When you didn’t object, he reached down, palm skyward to motion with his fingers. Your tight clad feet pulled out of your heels, lifting from the ground for him to tug your legs across his lap. His wide palm smoothed over your shins, cupping your calf as he rubbed your legs down.

“I know you’re on your feet a lot, standing in front of that profiling board,” he whispered to you, setting his coffee down on your desk to caress both of your legs down to your feet, digging his thumbs in the arch of both of them. He watched your lips part, a relieved sigh falling from them as he released the tension in your feet, both from being on them and from being contorted in your heels. Your coffee was almost shaky in your hands as your eyes fluttered closed, his thumbs working into the bottoms of your feet and back up your legs.

“You spoil me,” you told him, mostly a whisper as you took another sip of your coffee, your eyes opening again to peer at him from under your lashes.

He winked at you, “Maybe I do, but only just a little bit.”

“Are you coming over tonight?” you asked him, watching his eyes lift to yours after drifting back to your legs. His hands rubbed you down as he thought about his response, taking a deep breath.

“Do you want me to?” he replied, slipping your legs off his lap before tugging your rolling swivel chair in his direction, leaning far over to kiss your lips once, twice, thrice—gentle closed-mouth pecks that had your heart fluttering for him, especially when his fingers touched your jaw, tilting your head up for him.

You nodded, eyes fluttering back open as he pulled away.

“I was thinking we could have dinner and a nice quiet night in.”

“Mm, how about after dinner we have a candle-lit bubble bath and a fine bottle of prosecco,” he suggested, a purr in your ear as he charmed your coffee out of your hands, a more desperate kiss he placed against your lips.

“You really do spoil me, Wonwoo,” you purred back against his lips. His soft chuckle was a symphony in your ears, his soft hands tugging at your waist, desperately wanting to drag you into his lap. Just as he was about to, your boss knocked and opened your door. Wonwoo wasn’t unfamiliar to him, as your boss gave him a salute before turning his attention back to you, mentioning something about the profiling of one of the cases that had been cold on your desk for a while. You turned in your chair to search for it, picking through file after file before handing it to him so he could review your work—something for a press conference.

Once the door closed, Wonwoo looked over at you with a grin, his fingers back to tug at your suit jacket.

“You’re my queen, I’m supposed to spoil you,” he finally replied, giving you a half-lidded look as his tongue teased the side of his lips.

“That’s code for I want to drag you into my lap,” you responded, rolling your eyes even as he continued to tug at your jacket, trying to do just that, coax you right into his lap. He chuckled, dropping his head to break the gaze with you.

“It’s not code for anything!” he added, his hands finally finding the attempt at your waist futile as they dropped from your coat. Despite that, you stood, surprising him a little bit. It would have been hard to drag you into his lap the way he wanted, considering your pencil skirt, but you gave him a little bit of what he wanted as you leaned over and placed both of your hands on his strong thighs, leaning over him to garner his gaze again.

His brows were raised in surprise as he looked at you, but soon relaxed when his eyes fell closed, one of his hands placed on the back of one of yours, the other cupping your jaw the instant your soft, supple lips met his in a kiss that had his heart pumping hard. His deep inhale through his nose had your heart pumping just the same. Seldom did you kiss him like this when it wasn’t at your house, but something in you told you that you should.

The hand of yours he wasn’t pinning against his leg rose for a moment to stroke your fingers against his jaw before trailing down his neck, over his shirt and against his chest where you lay your palm flat over his heart and before long, the hand that was pinning your hand to his leg was then pinning your hand against his chest, clutching it against his body.

His warm tongue touched against your closed lips, begging for a little more, just a little, and your lips parted for a moment to gingerly graze his tongue with yours before shyly breaking the kiss.

“What’s gotten into you? You never kiss me like this at work,” he breathed against your lips, and you were kissing him again, removing your hand from his leg to thread through his hair and tilt his head for you as you nipped at his bottom lip. Something desperate was screaming at you, but you couldn’t place it.

Wonwoo’s brow drew together—not that he wasn’t enjoying it, but something wasn’t right. He tried to ignore it, tried to ignore the way your tongue touched tentatively against his, when you were usually so fervent about him. Maybe it was the fact that you were at work, typically not too keen about being this unprofessional, even in the privacy of your office.

But that didn’t seem like it, either. He was becoming an anxious mess, mirroring your anxiety. He tried to break the kiss to ask you, muffling a quiet ‘baby’ against your lips, but you kissed it away, silencing him. Your right hand was furled in the front of his shirt, a sure-sign that something wasn’t sitting right with you, only confirmed when he pulled away—

“Sweetheart,” he begged, cupping your chin to keep you a short distance away, but still at his will, “stop.” His eyes looked into yours, looked between them as he tried to read your face, your breath was nervous, but he didn’t give you enough time to say anything as he turned you, plopping you askew in his lap and wrapped his arms around you to cuddle you close to him.

“Something’s wrong. You’re never like this; talk to me, what are you feeling?”

His chin resting on your shoulder was a sliver of solace, his arms tightly around you to drag you into his warm chest. You were askew enough that he could peek up at your face, on the edge of your shoulder, begging for your attention. Unable to come up with a good answer, you shook your head, fingers soft on his arms wrapped around you.

“I—I don’t know, Wonwoo; I’m nervous,” you finally replied.

“Talk to me, baby,” he pleaded. “What are you nervous about? Is it about me?”

All you could do was nod, slowly at first but more vigorously the more you thought about it.

“I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, all of the sudden. Instincts… took over and—”

Wonwoo’s phone started ringing, and you knew that ringtone like your death knell. He looked at you, wanting to ignore it to make sure you were okay, but it was duty calling and he had to answer it. You nodded for him to take it and, with you on his lap, shifted to dig his phone from his pocket and put it to his ear as his eyes met yours again. It was what sounded like his commanding officer giving him the details of a high profile situation which sounded vaguely familiar like the open case file that was on your desk.

Wonwoo swallowed hard as he finally looked back at you. “I’ll be stationed ASAP,” he spoke into the phone before hanging up. He could see the nervousness on your face; he almost never got called in, especially like this. You could feel your blood pumping through your veins, but for a different reason. His commanding officer already had a three cop body count and when he gave the news to Wonwoo, he cursed under his breath, his face showing the disappointment with the situation.

“It’s going to be okay,” he tried to soothe you, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss the back of it. “It’s going to be fine.”

“It’s the case, Wonwoo,” you told him, wanting to direct your attention to the open file on your desk, but he knew what it was, and he wasn’t going to let you look. He wanted your sweet eyes on him as he reassured you he’d return to you. He cupped your chin, making you look at him and only him as he stroked your fly-aways back with the fingers of his free hand.

“My stuff is in the car—”

“I’m going with you,” you interrupted, standing from his lap to slide your drawer open, grabbing the Glock in it before his hands covered yours, and wheedling it back out of your hand.

“You’re not,” he whispered from behind you. “You’re going to stay here, or you’re going to go home. It’s dangerous out there and I don’t want you needlessly tangled up in it. I’m the best shot they have, and someone unaccounted for. It’s going to be fine, I’m going to come home to you and we’re going to have a nice dinner and forget all about it.”

“Be on the radio with me,” you replied firmly.

His arms tightened around your waist after sliding your drawer closed, clicking the lock on it, as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“I’ll be listening.”

He could feel your heart pounding in your chest, feel your uneven breathing against his body, and feel the tremble in your bones.

“I have to go, baby,” he whispered in your ear.

“Please, be safe.”

Without another word, just a chaste kiss against your cheek, he disappeared with the promise he’d come back to you. He hadn’t even bothered close the door behind him, his coffee next to yours on your desk, the messy files of the case open and splayed across it. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves—he was NPA’s best shot, and if he posted up properly like you knew he would, there would be no problems.

Still, you turned in your swivel chair to flip the small TV in your office on, turning to the live action news of the SWAT situation currently taking place down town, the situation Wonwoo was on his way to. Helicopters circled a building you were familiar with and you glanced at your drawer. You didn’t want to, but you heeded Wonwoo’s words. He would be back for you, he promised, but that didn’t settle the unnerving pit in your stomach.

Your boss pushed through your door, startling you, but he didn’t bother apologize before continuing with what he was going to say.

“There’s a SWAT situation—”

“I know,” you interrupted him. He looked around the office, noting Wonwoo’s absence and he looked at you, looked at the distress on your face. “He left about five minutes ago.”

“Go home,” he said, surprising you for a moment. “You’re just going to torture yourself sitting around here, helplessly, with all of the resources to go help him. But it needs to be just him, there’s nothing you can do. I can see the distress on your face—go home.”

It would have been what Wonwoo wanted. You grabbed your things, flipped the TV off, stowed all the files in the lock box which you shoved into your filing closet and headed out your office door, locking it behind you. You headed home without another word, trying to keep your mind off whatever could be going on and keep it on the reassurance he’d be okay.

You felt like you were going to throw up, trying to occupy yourself with what you were going to cook the both of you for dinner before realizing there probably wasn’t much at home. The grocery store was your first stop—an attempt to just continue the day as normal, as if you weren’t falling apart on the inside as you mindlessly perused the shelves for something to make.

An eternity you felt you spent in the store, only a thirteen item total in your cart. Your mind kept going to the radio; you begged to ask him how he was doing, what was going on, knowing he wouldn’t reply. That, and you didn’t want to distract him. You ignored it, putting your groceries in your car and headed home. An hour had ticked by since he left your office, and you wouldn’t dare turn on the TV. He would let you know when he was okay—and he would be okay. You sat on your couch after changing out of your work clothes, waiting impatiently, keeping the TV off. A little hard, you tugged at your hair, pulling it away from your face, trying to keep from going insane, trying to keep yourself grounded, trying to keep the pit in your stomach contained and keep the contents of it where they belonged.

You had prepared dinner for the most part, placing the proper ingredients in the crock pot. It was four forty-seven in the afternoon, and it would easily be ready by seven if he was back and ready to eat by then. You hoped, prayed even, that it wouldn’t be that long, that he would be back to you long before that. But the sun was quickly going down; visibility would no doubt get worse if there weren’t flood lights prepared for a stand-off.

Agony. Agony was all you felt as you fumbled with your phone in your hands for another thirty to forty minutes, considering giving him a call the more the time ticked by. You had dialed his number into the keypad, thumb hovering over the call button before you could hear the lock on your front door tumble from the turn of a key.

Relief washed over you as you tossed your phone onto the couch, leaping from it to get to the front door. Wonwoo hardly had enough time to drop his duffle bag in the entrance before your arms were tight around his neck, throwing your body into his to stagger him a bit off balance. It was a bit difficult for him to move as he wrapped his arms around your waist, sinking his face into your neck, his vest and cover restraining him a little bit. You could feel the firmness of his bullet-proof vest against your front, but that was much less of a concern than the warm liquid that smeared against your neck.

You were so concerned about him being home that you had transitorily forgotten to process the cut across Wonwoo’s cheek, hardly trickling blood, but enough to smear into your skin.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, probably talking about the blood as he held you close, feeling the entirety of your body against his, despite desperately wanting to tug you closer. “I told you I would come back to you.”

“What happened to you?” you whispered, trying to draw back to look at his face, but he wasn’t having it. He stayed nestled into the crook of your neck, holding you tightly.

“Nothing… nothing,” he whispered back.

“You’re smearing blood all over my neck, it’s not nothing,” you replied and he finally let you draw away. He reached into his back pocket for a handkerchief to clean the blood off your neck, ignoring your stare at his cheek, sliced from what looked like a tactical knife. When he seemed to be done, you snatched the handkerchief from his hand to clean his face a bit.

“I’m a little rattled… I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Your stomach about fell out of your rear—even though he was right in front of you, in the flesh, his words indicated there was a high possibility that he wasn’t going to return to you. You pulled entirely away from him, clenching his handkerchief in your hand as he unzipped his cover, revealing his vest that held two bullet casings centered on his torso, easily kill-shots.

The churning in your stomach came back as you brought your hand up to cover your mouth; the tears stung your eyes, but you pushed them away. He was there with you just like he promised and the casings stuck in the weave of his vest wasn’t going to change that. The grief on your face had Wonwoo’s insides tangling up.

“I—baby, I’m—”

“I’m just glad you’re safe. I wouldn’t know what to do if I lost you.”

He hurried to tug his cover off, his vest with it and dropped them both on top of the duffle bag, desperately wanting to feel you against him, to feel your warmth mingle with his own. Quickly and firmly, he tugged you in, pulling your whole front against him once again, but this time, it soothed the both of you to just revel in the warmth of one another. One of your arms wrapped around his neck, draping over his shoulders, while the other completely disheveled his hair, clutching him close as if he would disappear if you let go.

Wonwoo was counting his breathing, trying to calm the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. Clutching at the back of your shirt, his hands desperately tried to reel you tighter, letting your fingers carding through his hair calm him a little more as he began to walk to the both of you out of the entry way.

“I realized my mortality, today,” he said, more for himself than for you. You were always concerned about that, and you often expressed it. He tried to reassure you as if he was invincible, but you never fell for it. You knew of his mortality the same as his own—nobody was immune to a bullet. Despite that, you just nodded, understanding that he needed to get some things out but keep some other things in.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” you whispered back to him. He nuzzled deeper into your neck, no intention of letting you go any time soon. “It’s okay, Wonwoo,” you soothed, stroking down the back of his head and over his neck, hooking on his broad shoulder as you attempted to reel back from him again. You’d be having a word with NPA, with no real reason Wonwoo took fire as an add-on when they should have only called him with the necessary information for him to take the shot and be done with it.

In his eyes, you could see the cesspool of emotions. The fear, the relief, the contentment with finally being home; his arms were still tightly around your waist, but he’d let you lean back far enough to take both of his cheeks in your soft hands. Your thumb brushed just under his cut, which had stopped bleeding—barely a nick, though a long one.

“I had the intent of being the big spoon—”

Your thumb tugged at his bottom lip, silencing him almost instantly as you cupped his strong, sharp jaw.

“You don’t have to ask me for comfort; I will always take care of my man,” you finally replied, peering up into his eyes when his grasp around you finally allowed your feet back flat on the floor. His brow drew together, humming at your words—he loved when you called him your man. “Go run the bath, I’ll make sure the food stays warm,” you told him, dismissing him with a sweet kiss against his pleading and almost quivering lips.

You fiddled with the crock pot for only a moment; the food wasn’t quite done yet, but you had it programmed to low warm for when it went off. Faintly, you could hear the bathwater running in your master bathroom. He knew where everything he needed was at—the matches, the candles, the bubbles, the rose oil; he knew the temperature at which you liked the water and he laid out towels for the both of you. By the time you entered the bathroom, Wonwoo was already chest deep in the bathtub, clothes scattered across the floor as he eyed you.

In your hands were the missing pieces—two slender flutes and the bottle of prosecco he promised you, knowing that it was sitting in your fridge for a special occasion. This was special enough. He waded in the water a bit, finding the edge of the tile-encased bathtub to take the bottle from your hands as well as a cloth, also taking your lips with his in a sweet kiss. Quiet violin was playing in the background and the lights were dimmed. It was exactly as you had imagined when he offered you this earlier in the afternoon.

The bottle popped and he took both of the flutes, distracted with that while your clothes fluttered to the floor and you climbed the steps to settle into the hot water with him. Behind him was where you settled, as per his request, settling down with the water just under your clavicle.

“I changed my mind,” he uttered, crossing the tub to settle his back against the warmed porcelain wall and motioned for you with the finger still holding your flute. “I want to see the galaxies in your eyes,” he muttered to you, handing over your flute so he could help you settle over his lap. The scent of rosewater wafted through the air of the bathroom, mixing with the candles.

With your free hand you pushed his hair away from his forehead, brushing it out of his eyes before tracing his square jaw. His eyes never departed from yours, looking right into the deepest parts of your soul while his free hand entertained the small of your back, adjusting you on his lap so that everyone’s legs were comfortable. He delicately sipped his prosecco as your hand fell into the water, touching against his chest, against the love-bites littering his collarbones. He licked his lips, watching your eyes look them over, knowing you were the cause of all of those marks.

But those marks didn’t rile you or him, those marks reminded you of the blood under that skin, the blood that kept that flesh warm, the blood that kept your favorite human being alive and well in your arms right where he belonged. You couldn’t help but lean over and press a soft kiss against the cut on his cheek, and then his forehead, and then the tip of his nose before he was getting antsy, his fingers furling on your back as his lips tried to chase yours.

Your eyes fluttered closed with the anticipation of his lips, the sparks flew through your body when they finally met and your hand slid up to cup the back of his neck to tilt his head up just a little bit for you. His hand on your back tugged you into him, the skin on skin contact bringing a sigh out of his throat and against your mouth. He broke the kiss first, but rested his forehead against yours.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded, feeling the tension in your body he begged not to be there.

“I was scared,” you whispered to him, “I was right about my feelings. I felt like I was never going to get to kiss you again, back in my office. I—”

“I’m here,” he reminded you, taking your hand to put it over his beating heart. It was calm for you, the heart that belonged to you under your soft touch, his flesh warm and inviting—it was enough. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m going to have a word with NPA, there’s no reason—”

“Baby girl?” he asked, interrupting you, not wanting to hear any more about it. You looked from the wall that had caught your gaze in your frustration, his voice uttering that name melting you back into him as your gaze turned to him. He clutched your hand against his chest, pressing it firmer, making sure you could feel the way his heart beat for you. He shook his head, “Be mad tomorrow. Right now, I just want to be with you.”

You softened, relaxing into his lap. He was right; there was no reason to be upset about it now and taking your frustration out on him. He was there, as he promised, and would go to bed with you and wake up with you. He kissed your jaw as you thought, trying to calm yourself down as you took the first sip from your flute. Despite wanting you to face him, he helped you turn, knowing you’d calm down cradled into his body. He settled you between his legs, letting your back rest against his chest as his lips lingered next to your ear, your head resting on his shoulder.

Wonwoo reached forward to touch your knee which just barely peeked out of the surface of the water; his soft fingers against your skin pulled the goosebumps out, even in the hot water.

“Did you know?” he asked quietly in your ear.

“Did I know what?” you asked, pinning his left leg between your hip and your elbow as you stroked the backside of his knee, listening to him purr into your ear.

“That I love you?”

You shifted against his chest, squirming against him with the sweetest smile tugging at your lips, your eyes fluttering closed as you pushed back against his shoulder.

“Did you know that I love you more?”

“Ah, I don’t think that’s possible. I love you the most,” he teased back playfully, kissing against your neck under your ear that had your head tilting away from him.

“I can’t wait until your lease is up and you move in with me,” you told him.

It was his turn to wiggle against you, creating small waves in the water as he wiggled you with him.

“I can’t wait to wake up to you every single day, not having to worry about what’s going on at home and splitting myself between two houses. I can’t wait to come home to you every single night and just crawl into bed with you whenever I feel like it, knowing my time is unlimited. I can’t wait until I can ask you what you want for dinner instead of you asking me if I’m going to come over.”

“Wonwoo,” you hummed through a soft chuckle.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Cheers to that, babe,” you said, holding your flute just high enough to clink with his.

“Cheers to you, darling.

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