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xxdragonwriterxx · 4 years

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🔥Can I Hear it Again?🔥

A/N: Hey guys! Thank you so much for the support, you guys have been so absolutely amazing and I love and appreciate all of you! Please take this self indulgent shorter fic! It has a slightly OOC Levi in it but I wanted to try something a little different this time with his character. I still tried to make him as realistic as possible, but a but more flustered than usual. Enjoy!

🐉Song Recommendation: “Kangaroo Court” By: Capital Cities 🐉

~~~

“No.”

“I’m not leaving until you say yes.”

“No, (Y/N).”

“Yes, Levi.”

“You are a serious pain in my ass, you know that?”

“Yes, but I’m a serious pain in your ass that’s going to help you heal, whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t like it.”

“That’s too damn bad.”

Levi leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, glaring at the woman standing in front of him, her own arms crossed and a determined look on her face. Damn, he sometimes forgot how stubborn she could be until something like this happens, showing her fangs a little and talking to him in a way that most people wouldn’t dare.

He had actually gotten hurt on the last expedition. It was rare, but he wasn’t invincible. It also didn’t help that it was caused by a rookie brat, a nearly fatal mistake causing Levi to have to swoop in and save him at the last minute before he became titan bait. Although he had managed to get the cadet away from danger, the maneuver he had used had been sloppy in an attempt to get to the soldier as fast as possible, leading to him crashing into a tree before he could straighten himself out. He wasn’t horribly injured, but something was definitely knocked out of place.

He knew he probably needed some basic medical attention but he refused to go to the infirmary, insistent that the medical supplies be used for the people who actually needed them for severe injuries rather than on his minor aches and pains. His shoulder had been bothering him all day but he continued to sit it out, confident that his body would figure itself out and heal over time.

He hadn’t expected (Y/N) to get wind of his refusal for medical attention. Hell, he hadn’t expected her to find out that he was hurt, but who was he kidding, (Y/N) had been with him since they were children in the Underground. Of course she would notice his normally unnoticeable reactions to pain.

He would never admit it, but his heart warmed as he looked at her on the other side of his desk, demanding he let her take care of him because she cared and was one of the few people who recognized he wasn’t perfectly fine in the first place. He loved knowing that she had his back, always had, and never failed to know exactly what he needed, sometimes before he even knew himself.

He huffed at her when she started tapping her foot, impatiently waiting for him to inevitably cave. They both knew he wanted it, but he was being stubborn.

“You know, it’s too late to act all invincible and unaffected around me now, Levi. I’ve been with you ever since we were nothing but living skeletons, you don’t have to act all affronted because you need help with a minor injury.”

He scowled at her, his intense gaze meeting her fiery one, her stance telling him she wasn’t going to back down any time soon. He sighed and rubbed his temples pretending to be annoyed. “Fine, but you better do a good job, brat.”

(Y/N) immediately relaxed and smiled at him, returning back to her normal bubbly self. He rolled his eyes at her when she came up to him, but didn’t fight it when she grabbed his wrist and dragged him from his desk chair, heading for his private quarters.

“Strip,” (Y/N) demanded as soon as they entered the bedroom, slipping into his bathroom to hunt through the oils she knew he had stashed away.

“Wow, (Y/N). If you wanted to see the goods that badly, you could’ve just asked,” Levi teased, smirking when she came back into his bedroom with a scowl on her face.

“You know that’s not what I meant. Shirt. Off. Now.”

Levi quirked an eyebrow, silently challenging her. (Y/N) sighed in annoyance and placed her hands on her hips giving him a look that threatened violence if he didn’t cooperate. He chuckled as he eventually started to comply, reaching up to unbutton his shirt while (Y/N) moved around his bed to lay a towel down.

When the shirt was finally off, (Y/N) had Levi lay face down on the bed, his face cradled by a mass of pillows, before she straddled his lower back. Years ago, she would’ve been embarrassed out of her mind. But fate had had other plans and at this point they had been through so much together, tending to each other’s wounds both emotional and physical, they had both learned to deal with the interactions between them that occasionally toed over the line of friendship.

Grabbing the bottle of lavender oil she’d found, (Y/N) squirted a healthy amount into her palm and rubbed her hands together, humming at the pleasant smell of the oil. Levi sighed at the first touch of her hands on his back, settling further down into the mattress as she started kneading the knots in his muscles.

(Y/N) started gentle, using her fingertips to discover where the source of his pain was before she really began to massage him, clenching her hands into fists and using her knuckles to knead him. Levi occasionally let out quiet hisses and groans as she worked, but for the most part the room was silent, (Y/N) too focused on giving him relief to engage in their usual banter. Not that she believed he’d be able to understand what she would be saying anyway, judging by his closed eyes and relaxed expression.

When she had finally finished up with his back, she moved on to his injured arm, gently prodding the flesh to find where he was the most tender. Finding the displaced joint, (Y/N) flattened her palms and pressed, a loud crack filling the air as his shoulder was clicked back into place. Levi’s breath had caught when she had popped his joint but he was otherwise silent, his body relaxing when she began to massage the strained muscles.

“Doing alright, Levi?”

“Hmm,” Levi hummed noncommittally.

(Y/N) smiled to herself and dug a little deeper into the flesh of his shoulder before gliding her fingers over his rough skin, using her fingers to spread the pleasure up his arm. Gently but firmly working his muscles, (Y/N) made sure to focus on each section of his arm, soothing his aches and pains like magic. Glancing down at his face, (Y/N) was about to check on him again when the sight made her freeze.

He was blushing. And it wasn’t a subtle salmon pink either, it was dark and obvious. Although her heart hammered at the sight, her stomach fluttering with how cute he looked, (Y/N) couldn’t help but wonder if this was making him uncomfortable. If he was blushing because she was touching him in a way he didn’t necessarily want to be touched but was too socially awkward to say something. She knew how he was, putting up a confident front as Captain when in reality he was one of the most sensitive people she knew. It was very likely that he wasn’t enjoying anything she was doing at all.

(Y/N) immediately started to doubt herself. She had initiated this in the hopes that it would make him feel more relaxed, not more anxious. She only wanted to make him feel good, but if he wasn’t enjoying it, she didn’t want him to think he couldn’t tell her about his discomfort. Despite the rapid flow of thoughts flying through her mind, (Y/N) managed to take a deep breath and organize her words, her mouth opening to tell him what she was thinking when a loud noise filled the air.

(Y/N) froze, feeling Levi stiffen beneath her, his eyes flying wide open as they both realized what had just happened. There was no mistaking the nature of the noise Levi had just made.

Levi had moaned. A loud, needy moan that filled the room.

The sound set her body on fire, her core clenching subconsciously as her mind immediately conjured up images of him on top of her, or her with his cock in her mouth, or her riding him enthusiastically, giving him the utmost pleasure as he rammed up to meet her.

Levi gave her no time to speak as he quickly rolled over and lifted her off of him, getting up to sit on the edge of the bed, facing away from her. (Y/N) was shocked when she saw him cover his blushing face with his hands, never having seen him show this much embarrassment before. He looked like he wanted to find the nearest knife and slit his own throat.

“Levi-”

“(Y/N), I’m sorry,” Levi whispered so quietly she almost didn’t hear it, mumbling into his hands. It was so uncharacteristic of him to be acting this way, but (Y/N) found it endearing, adorable even.

“Levi, you don’t have to apologize,” (Y/N) said, trying to cool her own flaming cheeks. “It was supposed to feel good, I’m glad it was, um… working.”

Levi groaned at her words, shaking his head a little. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I was trying to s-suppress it, but y-your hands felt so g-good and I couldn’t stop it.”

“Hey, it’s alright, it was natural! I was giving you a back massage after you practically dislocated your shoulder and almost displaced your spine, it was bound to cause a reaction from you. You were hurt and now you feel better, it’s just your body reacting to being healed again, nothing to be ashamed of,” (Y/N) said. She was honestly surprised she had gotten through that sentence without stuttering but she was glad she was able to hold firm, knowing he needed that reassurance right now. No matter how hot she thought he sounded, it was clear he was mortified.

“It wasn’t from the massage,” Levi said.

“Huh?”

“What just happened, that was because of you.”

“Wait, you mean you…?”

“Yeah,” Levi said with a huff. “I have for a while now, but I couldn’t find the right way to tell you so I just kept it to myself. I was hoping to tell you eventually, but I wanted to do it my way. So much for that I guess.”

(Y/N) was stunned. He…, liked her? Since when? Ever since she had known him she had never seen him gravitate towards wanting a partner, always appearing unfazed when even the most stunning women batted their lashes at him. He was still human, she knew he wasn’t immune to his hormones, but she had never expected to be on the receiving end of those desires.

Elated couldn’t even begin to describe what (Y/N) was feeling, her heart pounding with more than just the lust from their recent encounter. She had loved him for ages but had never engaged anything with the fear of possibly losing her best friend to something as stupid as feelings hanging over her head. But now that she knew the true nature of his emotions, (Y/N) wasn’t going to hold back.

“Hey ~Levi,” (Y/N) purred.

“Yes?” Levi asked, his brow quirked up at the sound of the husky lilt in (Y/N)’s voice.

“I’ve got to admit, that moan was pretty hot,” (Y/N) said, leaning up to graze her teeth along the shell of his ear, reveling in his responsive shudder. “Care to try making some more?”

Levi whirled around to look at her in shock, his silver eyes meeting her gaze until he could see the truth swirling within them. She really did love him back, something that made Levi’s stomach do a few funny flips. He couldn’t help the wicked smile that graced his features then, turning around to climb back to the center of the bed, suddenly immensely grateful for the towel she had placed over his mattress for the massage. Reaching for her, Levi leaned in and brushed his lips against hers, his eyes half lidded and filled with a lust that matched her own.

“Anything for you, baby,” Levi said huskily before (Y/N) crashed her mouth onto his, eager to make good on her silent promise to pull as many delicious moans from her normally composed Captain as possible.

#levi x reader #aot levi #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #captain levi #captain levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x reader #levi attack on titan #snk imagines #snk levi #snk x reader #snk fanfiction #snk #shigeki no kyojin

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wisherbysharlight · 4 years

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My God if I could only say, I'm holding every breath for you

Description: Patton Hart has been pining for his best friend's twin brother and his boyfriends for as long as he can remember. Word Count: 3067 Ships: Patton/Remus/Janus/Virgil, background Logince, established Remus/Janus/Virgil Warnings: Remus being Remus, twins squabbling AO3 This is a gift fic for @sunshineandteddybears for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange. The “summer romance” piece kinda got away from me, but this is definitely found family! I hope you enjoy!

Patton was wiping down the counters, about 15 minutes after closing, sunset shining through the windows as he hummed along to the radio, a sense of peace radiating through the store.

Of course, that’s when chaos erupted.

“Pattycakes, you gotta save me!” Remus cried as he threw the door open so roughly the windchimes actually smacked against the window above the door before falling back down and jingling merrily to announce his presence. He ran behind the counter with no hesitation, gripping onto Patton’s waist. (Patton only shivered because of the burst of adrenaline. That was the only reason. No other possibilities. Nope.) Remus angled them both towards the doorway just as Roman came bursting in with the same amount of urgency, fire in his eyes and shirt dripping wet and seemingly tinted a particularly garish shade of greenish-brown.

“Remus, you can’t hide behind Patton forever, you bastard!” he seethed, and Logan, Janus, and Virgil came through the door behind him, much more calm, almost to the point where Patton would call them bemused. Logan took a seat at one of the small tables along the wall, pulling out his phone with a very evident intention to simply wait the whole debacle out, while Janus and Virgil both leaned up against the glass case in front of Patton. “Get out here and face me, you coward!” Roman bellowed again, clearly not giving up anytime soon.

Patton grabbed an empty paper towel roll from next to him and turned at the waist to whack Remus in the head with it, “Remus you cannot use me as a human shield, go answer for your crimes.” “Kinky. I’d much rather have you issue my punishment,” Remus joked with an eyebrow wiggle, then cackled when Patton made a strangled noise and shoved him back to the other side of the counter. However, as soon as he was in range, Roman grabbed hold of him and pulled him into a headlock and his laughter turned swiftly into a shriek of “Oh shit!”

They were 12 years old, tearing through the woods in a dual-friend-group game of manhunt the summer before 7th grade. Virgil was hot on everyone’s heels and adrenaline was coursing through their veins. Patton leapt over a log and turned a corner, hunting for a good place to hide.

He heard a curse of “Oh shit!” echo through the woods before the sound of three branches breaking in succession, a huge crash, and a subsequent groan. He quickly pivoted and went sprinting back towards the house, and the sound, easily finding Remus splayed across the forest floor even in the dim light of the moon.

“Why would you climb a tree, silly goose? Don’t you know the branches are weak that high? Scared me half to death!” he chided as he fell to his knees beside him, already pulling band-aids out of his wallet in his pocket.

Remus grinned impishly up at him, and Patton felt his breath catch in his throat, fumbling with the wallet briefly in a way he prayed the other boy didn’t notice. “What’s a lil fear in the face of a bunch of excitement, Patty?” he crooned, and Patton shoved a handful of band-aids at him with little delicacy in his haste to move past the tease. “Besides, I have the best nurse in the world to patch me up when my fun does go south, apparently.”

Patton flushed and turned away, positive Remus could tell even in the weak light, but he couldn’t keep the earnestness out of his voice, “I’ll always patch you up, Ree. Promise.”

Remus didn’t get a chance to respond before Virgil burst through the bushes and tapped them both on the shoulder to get them out and a loud, extended debate began about the validity of the “injury time out”.

Janus leaned on the counter in front of Patton, jolting him out of his reverie. He pointed at the menu, with three shiny new additions at the bottom, “You finally manage to find a flavor sweeter than you, sugar?”

Virgil shoved him out of the way with an eye roll and a fond grin, thankfully distracting from how Patton felt his cheeks would melt the freezers. “He can’t stop flirting even for two seconds, I swear.”

Janus gasped dramatically, swooning against the counter and batting his eyes at Virgil like a starlet in an old black and white, “Maybe if you and Remus gave me the attention I deserve I wouldn’t need to hunt it down in beautiful, endearing ice cream shop owners.”

Remus snorted despite the way he was currently trying to claw his way out of his brother’s hold while being noogied like they were still teenagers and not fully grown and employed adults, “We could give you all the attention in the world, Janny, it would never stop you from flirting with Patton.”

Janus sniffed derisively at them, then cocked his head to the side as the song changed and smiled softly, “Hey, I know this song.”

Patton smiled brightly back, “Yeah of course, have it on all the playlists for the shop!”

“Simp!” Remus called over just as brightly, and Patton glared back at him, assuming it was aimed at him.

“Ok, you look miserable,” Janus said, making Patton jump from where he was staring down at his water glass watching the liquid swirl around the glass as he moved it in little circles and maybe lamenting his singledom a little bit in the face of a dance floor full of sappy teenagers in fancy clothes enjoying the crisp June night and each other as their last hurrah before graduation.

Patton plastered on a smile, “Oh Jan, I am perfectly hap-”

Janus arched a brow at him, tsking lightly and just loud enough for Patton to hear and stop speaking. “Don’t try to lie to me, I know what you look like when you are actually happy, Patton. And also you’re a god-awful liar.”

“...yeah ok. I’m a little bit lonely, maybe, with Ro and Lo gettin their dance on for the romantic stuff. But I’m not mad, they’re in love, and I told them to go hang on their own. We’ll hang out at the beach house after!” He couldn’t help but glance at the dance floor, where Logan was leading Roman in a waltz that was perfectly on time with the music, lost in their own little world.

“Well Ree and V bailed for the beach early. Not exactly their style of music or dancing, or my vibe to make them do something they don’t enjoy just to get my feet stepped on. Why don’t we be miserable together?” The song changed, to a song with a more Latin-inspired beat that Patton knew only one of every 10 words to, and Janus smirked, “Maybe you and I can even make the most of it and I can score a salsa partner.” Janus ended his proposition with an exaggerated wink and bow, and Patton took his offered hand with a genuine grin.

Janus didn’t miss a beat, switching eye contact to Roman on a dime, “Hey, did you know Remus was the one who’s been screwing with your guitar’s tuning?”

“NONONO HE’S LYING,” Remus cried as Roman tightened his hold and doubled down on his attack, this time poking at his ribs and making Remus shriek in laughter.

As Janus watched Roman wrestle Remus down to the floor of the shop, clearly satisfied with the reaction he managed to get, Virgil nudged him over with his hip to take his place leaning across the counter and whisper conspiratorially, “I bet it was actually Logan. Bastard can get away with murder, I just know it.”

Patton couldn’t help but giggle, with Virgil’s playful smile and dancing eyes across from him, so open and trusting in a way he never was unless it was just the group of them. He smirked a bit, nibbled at his lip in consideration, then leaned in to say in an equally conspiratorial style, “Logan’s only involved to see how long it’ll be before anyone catches on. My record stands.”

“You are a trickster Patton Hart,” Virgil gasped in mock-scandal. He wagged his finger with his hand on his hip in a not-half-bad impression of Patton during a lecture, though he was unable to match his Patton-ted Disappointed Frown while he was grinning, “I’d never expect my partner in crime to be doing something like this without telling me, shame on you. You know I always have your back.”

It was their last weekend of freedom before they started high school, and as per usual both twins had both their friends sleeping over. Patton woke before Logan and Roman, also as per usual, and snuck out of Roman’s room down to the kitchen, only to jolt as he found the light already on and Virgil sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Whatcha doin?” Virgil asked, legs kicking in the air in front of the cabinets lazily.

“Gonna try to make pancakes! I’m positive I won’t burn them this time, I just know it,” Patton enthused, then squinted suspiciously at Virgil, “What’re you doing?”

“Oh just hanging around, keeping an eye out in case anyone tries to burn the house down again so I can help out. Figured they might need a partner in arson crime, ya know, and I could let them know I’ve got their back,” Virgil teased, nudging Patton’s leg with a sock clad foot. He looked so precious with his sleep mussed hair and eyeliner from the night before smudged under his eyes that Patton couldn’t even bring himself to argue that he really didn’t need a babysitter. Honestly, he couldn’t even begin to pretend he didn’t want the excuse to spend more time with him.

The twins’ argument grew more heated, finally managing to distract Patton from where he was a bit lost in the way Virgil’s eyes lit up when he was amused.

“You fucked up one of my favorite shirts!” Roman screeched as he attempted to give his brother a wet willy.

“You put red koolaid in my shampoo two weeks ago, you baby!” Remus cried back, shoving at his shoulder to try to get him off, and succeeding rolling them only for Roman to roll them straight back.

“I know you were the one who put my script out of order,” Roman fired back.

“You should have been off book anyway! And you broke bro code and told Virgil I was the one who deleted his X-Files off the DVR. You are just as bad as me.”

“You gave mom’s computer a porn virus and blamed it on me!” Roman protested, and everyone else seemed to simultaneously sigh as they descended into their usual back and forth of dredged-up pettiness.

“Oh you're still - you squashed my bug collection.”

“You left me stranded in the yard after Remy’s homecoming party senior year.”

“That was absolutely justified, you made me listen to you wax poetic about Logan’s fucking lips for 3 hours.”

“You made me listen to you wax poetic about Patton’s EVERYTHING for 13 YEARS”

Everyone in the shop simultaneously went silent in a blink of an eye. Virgil went white as a sheet and swung to look at the twins with wide eyes, Janus gripped the counter white-knuckled and looked at Patton with a similarly stunned expression, and Remus turned nearly as red as the sash on Roman’s favorite Prince Charming costume. He shoved Roman off of him for real, a more severe growl to his voice as he seemed to realize there was no way to play it cool, “You are such a fucking dick!”

Roman stammered for a moment, clearly trying to digest the change in tone and the weight of what he’d said, before waving his arms above his head in apparent bafflement, “It’s not like he didn’t know you all were into him!”

“Roman,” Logan spoke up suddenly, gesturing at Patton and what Patton knew had to be a completely shell-shocked expression.

Roman looked up and went just as wide-eyed as the others, “Pat… did... did you not know?”

“...all of you?” Patton asked, then winced as his voice cracked in shock. He watched Virgil flinch and seem to retreat into his hoodie out of the corner of his eye, and Janus’ face smoothed over into a perfect mask of calm in the blink of an eye. He felt his heart break just a little bit at the disappointment in both of their eyes at what he was sure they saw as a rejection.

Logan grabbed Roman’s arm and yanked him away roughly, though Roman followed easily, “You all clearly need to communicate. I will handle this one.”

“Don’t wanna know about you handling my brother, poindexter,” Remus joked hollowly, sounding almost like it was a reflex with none of his usual cackle behind it.

Logan rolled eyes and headed out the door, tugging behind him a Roman who was fervently whispering, just barely audibly, “He didn't know, how did he not know,” to himself over and over again.

There’s silence in the shop for a while, just the sound of the radio faintly playing over the loudspeakers echoing off the walls as they all just stare at each other, not knowing how to start. Then Janus took a deep breath and spoke first, “Patton, I refuse to speak for these two clowns, but I will absolutely tell you that I, at the very least, have had feelings for you for many years, feelings which i was unaware I was not making perfectly clear, or that there was a chance of any sort of reciprocation.”

“Around 7 years for me, give or take. That first morning we made pancakes together,” Virgil added quietly, fiddling with the zipper on his sleeve.

Remus averted his gaze, looking nervous in the way Patton had only seen the day before he confessed to Virgil and Janus in high school, and admitted in the quietest voice Patton’d ever heard him use, “I don’t know exactly when, Pattycakes. You’ve always been there and as far as I’m concerned I’ve loved you just as long. And-and I just assumed it wasn’t returned.”

Patton swallowed thickly, trying to push back tears because he knew these boys and knew they would take them for disappointment rather than the joy they were. He dove at Remus first, vaulting the counter the way he always scolded Roman against and sliding to his knees next to the other man on the floor before crushing him in a hug. He flailed back at Janus and Virgil with one hand to pull them in as well, “Come here, all of you, we’ve lost so much valuable cuddle time!”

Patton was pretty sure Janus broke the sound barrier with how quickly he was plastered to his side and burying his face in his hair, and Virgil wasn’t far behind, wrapping an arm around his waist and burying his face in the crease of his neck and shoulder. Patton took that moment to be a bit daring himself and press a kiss to the corner of Remus’ lips, then giggled brightly when Remus grabbed hold of his cardigan and used it to pull him back in to kiss him full on the mouth with just as much passion and impulsiveness and laughter as Patton had always imagined. His mustache tickled Patton’s nose a bit but he leaned into it, humming happily in the back of his throat and feeling like a puzzle piece clicked into place.

Virgil only gave them a minute before he untucked his face from Patton’s neck and grouched that he wanted a turn. Remus let Patton go with a very put-upon sigh that didn’t match his playful grin, flicking Virgil on the nose lightly. “You gotta give him his kisses or he’ll never shut the fuck up,” he fake-whispered.

Patton grinned and turned readily to Virgil, and his lips met Patton’s in a much gentler dance. His kiss was no less deep or passionate for its caution, and his hands cupped his face like he feared Patton would float away if he didn’t hold tight. His fingers curled and twitched upwards like they wanted to bury themselves in his hair but didn’t want to overstep, so Patton took the initiative to grip the back of his neck and tilt his own head to encourage Virgil to do what he wished.

Janus was more patient, waiting for them to part for breath a few minutes later before taking hold of Patton’s chin from Virgil without a word and gently but firmly turning Patton towards him. Janus’ kiss could only be described as a caress, light and teasing and peppered with soft nips to his bottom lip before building up to something more solid. His warm hands rubbed calmingly up and down Patton’s spine and over his shoulders like he couldn’t figure out where he wanted to touch first.

Remus soon demanded he get another shot, then Virgil wanted another, then Janus again, leaving Patton so beyond cloud 9 he could barely think any more. They spent at least 20 minutes there on the floor, lost in each other, rotating kisses that were long overdue, letting their actions make the confessions their words hid from for years, not daring to move and break the spell of the moment.

Then a camera shutter sounded, paired with a bright flash of light that made them all jolt and look up in surprise.

“I said communicate you know, not make out on the floor,” Logan sighed, digging through his wallet to pull a 20 out to hand to Roman, who was grinning victoriously.

“I’m sorry for being a dick, but I had to do something and I told Logan the “accidental slip” would work,” Roman said as he pressed a triumphant kiss to Logan’s cheek and pocketed the 20, “But you have to admit it was a pretty great performance on my part.”

“Can’t believe I was betrayed by my best friends, I don’t know whether I owe you a scolding or a fruit basket,” Patton lamented playfully, cheeks hurting from how wide he was smiling. Janus ruined what little remained of the facade even more as he shifted slightly and pulled him into his lap and Patton clung tight to Virgil and Remus’ hands, with no intention of disconnecting any time soon.

#IntruAnaMoCeit #patton/dark sides #patton/remus/janus/virgil #polyamsanders #ts fic #i had no idea how to tag this #all sides #remus mention

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 3 years

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Better Now

A Bla/ck Tap/es podcast sickfic.

I have so many wonderful prompts in my inbox but the only thing I wanted to write was this wildly self-indulgent and overly long fic that's jam-packed with all my favorite tropes. I blame @matilda3948 for her recent amazing Dr. Strand sickfics for inspiration and @sanquintina for getting me into the podcast in the first place

This is technically Bl/ack Ta/pes fanfic, but you don't need to know anything about the series other than Dr. Strand is a persnickety, serious, stoic, skeptic with a very deep voice and troubled past.

Set after the end of the series as it stands currently and written in 1st person from the perspective of Strand's unnamed female partner. Could be Alex if you want, could be someone else with whom Strand finally found happiness and contentment. I kept that part generic on purpose.

Richard Strand is many things, but clumsy isn't one of them. So naturally I had to go investigate when early one morning I was startled by the sound of a tea mug shattering on the floor followed by a hastily bitten-off swear word.

In the kitchen I found my husband, the world renowned Dr. Strand, kneeling on the floor mopping up spilled tea. He glanced up with a sniffle as he heard me approach.

"Had it too close to the edge. At least it missed my pants. I think I got all the ceramic bits, but be careful."

His voice was even deeper than usual, low and gravelly from the cold he'd been developing over the past few days. That, paired with his heavy, reddened eyes and generally haggard appearance, gave me concern.

"You look like you hardly slept. How are you feeling?"

"I tossed and turned a bit last night. Couldn't get comfortable."

"Couldn't breathe I think would be more accurate. You were snoring and breathing through your mouth all night."

He sat back on his heels and frowned. "Sorry if I kept you up."

"You don't have to apologize. I'm just worried about you," I added as he winced when he stood, massaging the space between his eyebrows.

He shot me another irritated glance. "I'm fine. I just have a bit of a cold." I couldn't help but notice the weary slump of his shoulders, however. Even his suit looked less crisp than usual.

I summoned all my wifely tact and tried to make my voice persuasive: "Maybe you should stay home. You don't look like you'll be much use to anyone today."

He made an annoyed sound. "That's very unnecessary. I'm not staying home for a cold."

I looked pointedly out the window where a chilly November rain was pouring down steadily. "You really want to go out into that when you have a perfectly valid excuse not to?"

He too glanced out the window. After a moment he shook his head and cleared his throat, meeting my eyes again. "I'll be fine. It's just a little rain."

He headed toward the door, massaging his forehead once more.

"Don't you want your tea?"

"Oh, right." He whirled around quickly, grabbed the thermos, and headed toward the door again with a wet sniffle. I could only roll my eyes and sigh as the door closed behind him.

Most workdays I left after him and returned before him, and this Thursday was no exception. The rain was still pouring down when I arrived home from work that evening. I decided dinner was going to be vegetable stew and biscuits, not only for his cold, but also because I wanted some rainy November comfort food. Everything was nearly ready when I heard him coming up the steps. He opened the door, bringing with him a chilly gust, and I turned to greet him, but instead my mouth dropped open a bit at the sight of him.

His hair and clothes were completely soaked with rain, to the point of dripping puddles onto the floor as I watched, and he was visibly shivering, something I'd never seen him do before. Inexplicably, he was also shaking the loose drops off of his soaked umbrella, his expression drawn and miserable. I was noticing how diminished he seemed when suddenly his breath hitched violently:

"HehZIHH'shiew! HrrUUHHZchoo! HehhGIHH'nkkchoo!"

I rushed to his side, relieving him of his umbrella and briefcase and pulling his sodden coat off of him as he slumped down onto the nearby stool. Beneath the coat, his suit was nearly just as wet and cold.

"Oh, Richard, bless you! You're soaked to the skin. Ugh, and your hands are freezing. How did you manage to get so drenched?"

"A w-woman and her ch-children were w-waiting for the b-bus without c-coats. I held my umbrella f-for them until it c-came," he said, his teeth chattering and his lips blue with cold.

I toweled off his hair and clothes as best as I could before helping him undress. Any other day he would have brushed me off, saying he was perfectly capable of doing that himself. The fact that he allowed me to assist him spoke volumes to how poorly he felt.

I was behind him, trying to peel off his sodden linen shirt when he lurched forward for another volley of sneezes:

"HrrUUSCHH! HnnxXT! HHGGTchh!"

"Bless you again, poor love. You've made your cold worse going out in this," I gently chastised.

"I'm f-fine," he sniffled, still barely able to speak around his shivering. Yet he leaned back against me wearily as I removed his undershirt and replaced it with a blanket, and I thought I heard the softest hint of a groan.

I used my fingers to comb his disheveled hair, but frowned when I felt his forehead. "You're running a fever. You weren't feverish this morning."

He merely shrugged, wordlessly asking me to continue massaging his scalp, which I did. Slowly his shivers subsided, but he was clearly exhausted, and sniffled wetly every few moments.

"You look like you could use a hot drink and a warm bed," I said eventually.

"I'd start with a hot shower," came the mumbled reply.

"Hmm… what about a hot bath? I was thinking of taking one myself tonight, and I'm willing to share. No reason to waste the hot water. Dinner will keep for a bit longer."

He turned slightly, giving me a curious look. It wasn't that we had never bathed together before, but it was usually under very different circumstances. However, I happened to know my husband craved physical touch when he wasn't feeling well, though he would never ask for it. I was simply making life easier on both of us by preemptively offering it.

"I suppose that might be nice," he finally said. "But I'm very tired…."

I kissed his cheek. "No strings attached. Bath only. Then dinner and sleep. No funny business, I promise."

He relaxed slightly. "That's fine then."

"Good. Let me go run the water." I kissed his hair once more, then headed to the bathroom. He joined me there with a cup of tea after a few minutes. While the oversized tub finished filling, he leaned in the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck and looking distant and hazy, not to mention sick.

I shimmied off my clothes and slid into the water, gesturing for him to join me. He sluggishly obeyed, hampered in finishing his own undressing by his dripping nose. He set his mug of tea and a handkerchief on the little table beside the tub, then slid into the water in front of me.

His sigh of ecstasy as the hot water surrounded him was exactly what I hoped to hear, and he leaned back against me readily with a satisfied groan.

"Better?" I murmured in his ear.

"Much," came the rumbling reply, followed of course by a sniffle.

I pressed my lips into his hair again and again. He hardly moved as the heat soaked into him. I let my nails trail all over his skin and gave him a gentle massage, trying to help him relax, a feat he was rarely able to accomplish on his own

"Would you like me to wash your hair?" I murmured after a while.

He gave the barest nod in reply. Wordlessly I did just that, something else he would never consider allowing in any other circumstance.

I kept the soap far from his face, but the fragrance still had its way with him. I had nearly all the suds rinsed out when he suddenly jerked forward and leaned over the edge of the tub.

GihhIIISSHH'UH! Hhigg'CHUH! HihYEHSH'ooo!" He directed the spray as far away from me as he could, grabbing for the handkerchief to catch as much of the mess as possible. He mopped his face with a growl as he slid back into the water, but the spell was broken. He fidgeted against me, sniffling in irritation again and again as I finished rinsing his hair.

I suppressed a disappointed sigh. "You might feel better if you went and laid down now that you're warmed up. Get yourself a bowl of soup while I finish up here."

He grunted his assent, lifting himself out of the water and quickly toweling off as he began to shiver again right away. He donned his robe, took his tea, and went to get his supper.

The evening came to a quick close after that. Richard ate a small portion of soup, drank two mugs of tea, and refused any medication, but did little else. He wouldn't be described as loquacious on his best day, but he spoke even less than usual. The only noise he made was the occasional soft cough or explosive trio of sneezes and his perpetual sniffles as he attempted his usual evening reading. His eyes never lost their weary, hazy look though, and he was constantly shaking his head or wiping a knuckle under his nose, so I wondered how much he was actually absorbing.

When I suggested we go to bed, he didn't argue though, which was very unlike him. He fell into bed wearily, and it seemed he was asleep even before his head hit the pillow. I silently wished to myself as I drifted to sleep that he would either be recovered in the morning, or else have the sense to stay home if he was worse.

~~~~~~~~~~

Richard's alarm went off at the usual hour the next morning, and he shut it off right away. Normally he was out of bed in moments, but today he lingered, pulling the blankets closer around himself with a little groan.

I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but he continued to shift restlessly. After a moment, I heard him take a wheezy inhale and then break into a coughing fit, wet and hoarse. I turned to look at him again. He was on his back now, with an arm flung over his eyes.

"Aww, love," I murmured. "You ok?"

"I'm not feeling quite like myself," came the mumbled reply.

I reached out to stroke his cheek, letting my hand rest on his neck where I could feel his hugely swollen lymph nodes. He was well and truly sick now, and he needed to stay home from work. However, I couldn't be the one to suggest that, or else he would turn me down immediately and insist he was fine, as he had the day before. It needed to be his idea. I went with a different approach.

I nestled close to his side, kissing his shoulder softly. I could tell he was still feverish even through his clothes. "Busy day today?" I murmured.

He grunted wearily. I couldn't tell if it was affirmative or negative.

"I packed a big bowl of soup for your lunch. I hope it's enough to keep you full through the whole day. And don't forget, I'll meet you at your coworker's reception tonight. Was there anything I needed to bring to that?"

He slowly uncovered his face. "I was… actually considering staying home from work. It shouldn't be busy today, I can afford to miss. And… I'm really not feeling well at all. I'll make our excuses to John about his reception.

I did a silent victory dance in my head. "Oh, are you sure? I thought you had some important meetings."

"Nothing that can't be rescheduled." He cracked a red eye open, glancing at me suspiciously. "Why? Do you want me to go in?"

I shrugged nonchalantly, kissing him again. "I want you to do what you think is best. If you're not feeling well, you ought to stay home so you don't risk getting other people sick though."

"I suppose." He coughed hoarsely again, rubbing his chest with a grimace. "Yes, I'll stay home today. Let me call Carol and John."

He slowly stood and made his unsteady way to his phone, sniffling and coughing the whole way. The two phone conversations were very brief, for he hardly had to try to make a case for his illness, congested and hoarse as he clearly was. After he finished the calls, he shuffled back to bed immediately, heaping the blankets back over himself with a shuddering cough. I rubbed his back as he got settled.

"Can I get you anything, hon? Water, medicine?"

He shook his head. "Going to try to sleep this off," he mumbled, sleep already (or still?) heavy in his voice.

I knew medicine would almost certainly help his endeavors at sleeping. At minimum it would improve the quality of his sleep. However, I also knew he was stubborn about such things, so I didn't press the issue yet. "Alright." I kissed his hot cheek gently. "Then I'll leave you be for now. Let me know if you need anything. Sleep well."

I made the bed around him, straightening my side and tucking him in, then quietly left. The sound of his deep snores followed me out. So much for me sleeping in today.

He emerged again later that morning. I didn't notice him at first when he did, though. I had my headphones in and was dancing around while dusting. Turning around, I almost bumped into him, scaring us both. I yanked my headphones off right away, taking in his disheveled, sickly, blanket-wrapped appearance.

"You're awake! I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come out."

"Clearly," he rasped with the tiniest ghost of a smile. "You stayed home too?"

"It's my normal Friday off."

"Right, right," he sniffled. He then shuffled to the couch, collapsing onto it with a yawn. I went to sit beside him, unable to keep the concern from my face. I felt his forehead again, noting how he wearily leaned into the touch. I was forced to jump back though as he erupted into a volley of thick, chesty coughs.

I sighed, surveying him with worry. "You're running quite the fever, love. And the cold has obviously settled into your chest now too."

He nodded limply with another sniffle.

"I'm not taking no for an answer this time, I'm giving you medicine and you're going to take it."

He managed to fix me with a condescending look. "Medication for a cold is essentially pointless. It just treats the symptoms."

"You think making yourself more comfortable is pointless?"

He opened his mouth to answer, or so I thought, but instead he lurched forward into a trio of wet, spraying sneezes:

"Heh'YEISSHH'oo! YEEIISH'uuh! Gih'HIH-shoo! --ugh…" The forceful snapping motion of his head when he sneezed looked incredibly painful, so much so that he pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead with a groan in the aftermath.

"Bless you, hon!" I waited a beat as he composed himself. "So… what was it again you were saying about the futility of treating the symptoms?" I asked, admittedly snidely.

He only grunted softly. I couldn't keep the smug look from my face when he met my eyes once more. However, seeing how thoroughly miserable he was reawakened my sympathy immediately. I reached out to caress his hair and cheek yet again.

"How about I make you some tea, yeah? And maybe a bowl of soup?"

"Please," he mumbled.

"Coming right up."

Another round of his thick, exhausting coughs followed me into the kitchen, and I couldn't help but wince in sympathy, even though he couldn't see me.

In a matter of minutes I had his meal ready. When I brought it back out to him, I placed the soup on the table and dropped a handful of pills and a capful of medication beside the bowl with a meaningful look. His only reply was a small frown. I resumed my seat beside him and was about to hand him the steaming mug when an idea occurred to me.

"Is your throat hurting badly?"

He nodded heavily with a little scowl, as if he hated being reminded of it.

"Here, this may help a bit." I raised the mug to the level of his neck, pressing it against his visibly enlarged lymph node.

His eyes widened and he half-jumped back from the initial sensation.

"Trust me for a sec," I said gently, placing it against the swelling once more.

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, but allowed it. After a moment though he visibly loosened. Making a sound between a whimper and a groan, he leaned harder against the heat.

"Better?"

"Mhmmmm," he sighed.

After another moment I switched to the other side of his neck and repeated the process. He angled himself here and there to get the most heat coverage over the tender areas. Finally I slid the mug into his hands, kissing his forehead.

"Thank you," he breathed. "That was… relieving."

"You're very welcome. Now, can I do anything else for you at the moment?"

"I'm fine. You don't need to fuss."

"I may not have to, but I want to, first because you're my husband and second because I know you're not 'fine.' But if you're going to insist you are, I'm going to go fold some laundry. Holler if you need anything. Or cough loudly if that's easier."

That earned me a Dr. Strand signature, the 'amused huff.' "I will. Thank you again."

"No thanks necessary." He received another kiss to the temple before I stood and headed to the laundry room with a last pointed look at the medicine. It occurred to me as I walked away that I was likely giving him an overabundance of kisses considering how contagious he clearly was, but he was just so darn pitiful.

Twenty minutes later, I returned to check on him, bringing a glass of water as well. The tea mug and soup bowl sat empty on the coffee table, surrounded by a few scattered tissues. The medicine was untouched. The doctor was huddled to one side of the couch with another tissue held loosely in his hand and one pajama-clad leg tucked under him, staring listlessly at the wall. However, at the sound of my footsteps he stirred with a sickly sniffle, scrubbing a hand over his face wearily. I smiled in greeting, and though he didn't return the smile, he did brighten a bit upon seeing me.

"What were you contemplating so deeply just now? You looked very lost in thought," I asked, handing him the water, then tidying up his little mess on the coffee table, leaving the pills.

He huffed a humorless laugh, looking self-conscious as he fiddled with the glass. "I was actually imagining how extensive the trial and error process must have been to determine how best to brew tea versus brewing coffee versus, for example, brewing beer. Roasting the ingredients versus drying versus fresh versus ground and boiling versus steeping versus fermenting. The amount of time that must have been necessary to perfect something so simple is rather astounding," he rasped, with many sniffles and throat-clearings thrown in.

I raised an eyebrow at him curiously. Aimless ramblings about random topics were not the norm for my painfully disciplined husband. "It is astounding I guess. I'd never thought about that before. Anyway, how are you feeling after eating?"

"I'm fine," he said, finally setting down the untouched water, though the nasty cough that immediately followed his statement contradicted him.

This time I audibly sighed. "You do realize that you saying you're fine all the time is very counterproductive to helping me assess your needs? You don't have to be fine, love."

He gave me an odd look. "Conceptually, I know that. But you have to remember, for a long time I *did* have to be 'fine.' I didn't have the option to be otherwise. You, all of this… still feels like a new development or a dream at times. Old habits die hard, I suppose."

I sat on the arm of the couch beside him. He wordlessly leaned in toward me so I could lightly run my fingernails over his scalp. He softly groaned in pleasure.

"I'm not going to waste my breath telling you that I'm not going anywhere and I'm here for you, because you already know that. So I suppose I'll just have to keep showing you."

I went to press a kiss to his head, but I caught a glimpse of his face and changed my mind when I saw he was about to sneeze.

"Gihh'chuuh! Hehh'choof! Ghnxt'choo!"

The sneezes were brisk and wet and left him breathless. He blew his nose with a wince before he spoke. "Sorry, could you repeat that? I missed most of it," he said, sounding stuffy and a little peeved.

I chuckled and complied, going for the kiss this time. He had no reply, but instead leaned against me wearily as I massaged his neck, yawning deeply.

"You should rest again, love. Take a nap if you can. It's either that or watch TV, which you'll never do. I'm not sure you should attempt much else."

He wrinkled his nose. "I hate being so unproductive. I don't want to sleep the day away."

"Sleeping when you're sick isn't being unproductive, it's being wise."

"HehhGIH'choo! HEHHH-choo! Hihhh'YESSHH'uuhh!"

I was quite sure he didn't hear most of my statement, since he sneezed right in the middle of it. With a pitiful sound he tended to his nose yet again as I blessed him earnestly. Eventually his watery, heavy lidded eyes met mine. I couldn't help but notice yet again how flushed and disheveled he was and how utterly pathetic he looked, quite the opposite of his usual cool, collected self.

"Guh. Sorry. What was that?" he asked with a pathetic sniffle, sounding very annoyed now.

"Aww, your nose. You really are sick, huh? Poor guy," I said, continuing to stroke his hair.

He looked slightly offended. "You were having doubts about that?"

I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. "It's just something you say, dear.

"I'm aware of the colloquialism," he grumped. "But I find it a very odd one. And it's never been directed at me before."

"There's a first time for everything, then."

I was rubbing his back now. He yawned again, grimacing after, I assumed due to the sore throat. I also noticed he was starting to shiver.

"Ok, now seriously, tell me what I need to do to convince you to nap."

"I'm not sure," he said with a chesty cough, nestling deeper into the couch.

"Hmm. I accept that challenge."

"And what challenge is that?"

"You won't tell me what I can do to help you, and perhaps you don't even know yourself, so I have to figure that out for both of us."

"I don't think there's anything I need though."

"You need to sleep."

He rolled his eyes with an annoyed huff, but I could tell he knew I was right.

I stood and went to put some smooth jazz on the record player in the room. Sitting down again, this time on the couch on the other side of him, I gestured to my lap.

"Come lie down."

"Wait-- lie down… right there?"

"Correct."

"Why?"

"Because you love hair scratches and neck rubs, so I'm making it easier to give them to you. Also you're apparently freezing and need to share some body heat."

He frowned, suppressing his shivers as best he could. Still, I knew he wouldn't be able to resist for long, tired and miserable as he was. Sure enough, after a moment he slowly levered himself down with a resigned sigh.

I quickly threw a blanket over him, and then began the hair scratches. He made a tiny, appreciative sound.

"Better?"

"Mm," he grunted.

"Good. But you're sweating, love," I murmured.

"I'm not sure how since I'm freezing," he mumbled with a cough.

"Your fever is higher. I can feel it just by touching you."

He groaned, snuggling deeper against me.

I massaged his neck for a while longer, trying to ease the tension from his muscles. He continued to be restless though, and apparently unable to regulate his body temperature. One moment he would be shaking with chills pulling the blanket closer, and then the next kicking it away from his legs with a moan of discomfort.

The final straw for me was when he was overcome with yet another hacking coughing fit, curling in on himself miserably, trying to muffle it into his arm, the other hand clutching his chest.

Before he settled again, I leaned forward to grab the untouched pile of medication and glass of water from the coffee table. When he was again lying against me, I wordlessly held it out to him. He of course made a sound of irritation.

"Why are you being so stubborn? You need to sleep, and you can't sleep in the state you're in, at least not well. This will help your headache, fever, sore throat, everything so you can rest. I can tell you're exhausted."

After a final moment of consideration, he held out a reluctant hand. I handed him the items and he swallowed them without comment.

Neither of us spoke again for a long time, and didn't move from our places. I soothingly stroked his hair or rubbed his back, putting myself in a trance almost as much as him.

I could see the medication talking effect. His restlessness slowly eased along with his coughing. It seemed I could even feel his body temperature decreasing.

"Hnnkkt'CHUH! Hehgg'CHUHH! EHHG'choo!"

Just as I thought he was asleep, his body twitched with a trio of sneezes, the quality of which could only be described as lazy--slow, thick, and dulled. They hardly seemed to stir him from his stupor.

"Bless you. Are you ok?"

" 'm fine," he croaked tiredly. We were both quiet for a while, then he spoke up again. "You know, one of the reasons I keep saying I'm fine is because I can't begin to describe what an improvement it is to be with you while being sick compared to being sick in bed alone. The difference is as drastic as night and day--better doesn't begin to describe it. Asking for anything more than what I already have just by your being here feels selfish."

Richard would never express such sentiments under normal circumstances, and hearing it said so plainly overwhelmed me with emotion. Yet I knew he wouldn't want me to reply in kind. He would prefer to state his piece and let it be. And indeed, I saw his eyes drooping heavier by the second, so I kept my thoughts to myself for now, but leaned over to plant a series of kisses all over his hot face.

He hardly moved and didn't respond even when I finally stopped, but I couldn't help but notice the tiny smile playing around his lips as he drifted off to sleep.

#Sickness #sicknario #sickfic #snzblr #snzario #snzfic #everyone is hotter with a fever

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oftenderweapons · 4 years

Text

The Studio - Namjoon

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 9.7k words

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Rating: 18+

I told you I’d be back really soon ;) Tonight there’s a lot on schedule! I’ve been working on this piece for two weeks, since it carries a lot for both Namjoon and Vixen, emotionally speaking. It means a lot for me too, since to me it was truly a challenge in terms of the different levels of knowledge that Joon, y/n and the narrator hold. I think I’ve grown a lot in terms of writing even from Tiktok Towel Trick, which I wrote last May, but I’m really proud of myself comparing to what I used to produce a couple years ago.

Now, let me introduce this fic. The piece takes place two or three months after the two have started sleeping together (ideally late January or February). In this piece Vixen visits Joon at the studio after a bad fight and Joon’s self-imposed isolation. The two feel like they’ve come to a dead-end as they wait for the other person to cut ties. Namjoon is suffocated by his job, his tendency to lash out at his closest ones when he’s stressed and his previous traumas; Vixen is locked in her head, shut out by Namjoon and repeatedly accused of infidelity, as a sign of Namjoon’s lack of trust. Will the two manage to work things out?

Description and trigger warnings: The piece was written referring to Namjoon’s Rkive as in his vlive log. There is ANGST. Loads. There is some crying and it is not Vixen’s. Longing and miscommunication. In terms of filth: so much dirty talking the walls exude holy water by now. Unprotected sex (STAY SAFE GUYS!!!!!!!!), DDLG/daddy kink, Masturbation paired up with Voyeurism and Exhibitionism, Fetishism (Shoes, tights and lingerie), Oral (female receiving), Cumplay (eating), Marking, Spanking, Angsty doggy fucking followed by a very soft ride on the sofa. That should be all. Fluff alarm: Namjoon doesn’t want to lose his little fox and Vixen just wants to cuddle her big teddy bear Joon.

Wordcount: 9.7k

Here is my masterlist

Enjoy!!!

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Standing in the main corridor of the studios felt very strange. You looked around, uncomfortable, while the receptionist at your side stared at you, waiting. "Don't worry, he's busy all the time. We can wait, no big deal." The fact that you'd been greeted by Namjoon's driver at the entry desk had helped you get to the studios unannounced. "That boy always gets caught up on something. He shouldn't make you wait." He tutted, looking at you with a kind smile.

"____? What are you doing here?" Taehyung smiled at you brightly, close behind him Hoseok and Yoongi approached with heavy-looking bags on them.

"Oh, hi. I sort of stopped by for Namjoon." You bit your lip, smiling embarrassedly.

"He's still in his room. I can show you the way." Taehyung said, grinning.

Yoongi seemed to be observing him closely while Hoseok looked absolutely oblivious.

"No, I only have to give him this." You showed them two small bags, one containing food and the other a few things he had left at your place.

You tried not to let your heartbreak show.

"Maybe you could bring them to him, I don't want to distract him."

You smiled but you felt the tears welling up.

Yoongi's glance moved to you. It felt scorching. "I think you should bring those to him. I think he'd like to see you." His serious tone made you realise that maybe he did know what was happening. Maybe he did know better.

"I think he'd rather not see me right now." Your lips tightened in a thin line.

Both the guys turned to Yoongi. "Go, I'll see you tomorrow."

They both patted him on the shoulder and waved at you, Taehyung hugging you close. "It'll be alright. I'll see you."

Taehyung smiled at you, his cute cheeks popping upwards. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you had just granted him an exclusive piece by one of his favourite photographers. Maybe he was just friendly, maybe he simply liked you because he deemed you a decent human being.

Right at his heels, Hoseok gave you a cute wave, saying bye-bye in a cartoonish voice.

Beside you, Yoongi shook his head, still sporting a fond smile. "Uhm, I never know whether I should introduce myself. Anyway, we've never met before, so– I'm Yoongi. " He said with a tiny smile, his cheeks jumping upwards.

You introduced yourself with a small bow.

"You are just like he described you. He talks about you a lot." He commented. You blushed, almost feeling like dissolving into thin air. You never thought you would meet his friends like this.

Yoongi looked at your face. "You're exactly his type — in the best way possible." He blushed. "Let's go." He said, leading you. "I actually want to say a few things." He threw his bag on the floor, getting comfortable on the sofa in the common room. "How are you doing?"

You stared at your feet. "Decent enough."

"I'll be honest, ____. He hasn't been doing good. Not even decent, in my opinion." Yoongi announced, as if trying to prepare you for what you were going to see. "I feel like telling you a couple things about him. He can be hot-headed, and an absolute pain in the ass. He is a perfectionist, and a terrifically clumsy one at that." Yoongi huffed out. "He holds himself to extremely high standards and punishes himself whenever he feels like he's not delivering. And he has the horrible tendency to lash out when he's stressed. He just takes it all out on those who are closest to him." Yoongi patted the spot at his side, inviting you to sit. "I'll be inappropriate, maybe, but I have to say it. You don't have to stay at his side."

The sentence was like a slap to your face. It had never come to your mind to part ways with him.

"You don't have to put yourself through his tempers and tantrums. You need to be ready to handle those emotionally. If you aren't, I don't think you'll be able to go for the long run." Yoongi looked at you in the eye. "Sorry if I overstepped, usually people come to me to talk, I'm not used to giving unsolicited advice." He blushed and laced his fingers together, laying them on his thighs.

"I don't want to let go of him, Yoongi." You confessed.

"Then you should go bring this stuff to him in person. And remember, you don't have to be his therapist. If you want, you can be his partner, walk by his side, but it's not your duty to carry him." The man was incredibly smart and thoughtful. And sensitive. The more you got to know him, the more you understood Namjoon's adoration for him.

"Thank you so much." You bowed your head briefly, placing your palm on top of his hands.

He moved one on top of yours, patting gently. "Let's go find your grumpy bear, uh?"

With a groaned "aigoo" He pushed himself up, standing on his feet like an old man before bending to catch the strap of his bag. "This way."

He led you through the winding corridors until you recognised the door to Namjoon's studio. "Go on. Knock politely and be smart. Discuss. Negotiate. Compromise. And be kind to each other." He gave you the official salute and left.

You found yourself staring at the door, wondering if he'd roar at you for interrupting him.

The room sounded quiet.

You counted to three. Knocked.

"Come in." Said his voice with a weak rumble. He was probably distracted.

His studio was warm and welcoming, if a bit clustered. The lights were low and yellowy, coming from his desk and contrasting with the white gleam of his computer screen, still you could see everything perfectly in the slight penumbra, your eyes perusing your surroundings. It was easy to see why his apartment felt like a hotel room: he barely spent time there while this place really felt like home. It felt like stepping into his soul. Small sculptures and toys and collectibles were neatly lined in his bookcase together with some books. Then the baby shoes. Art catalogues. Candles. Art. A drape too big for the wall, but still there, a painting, probably from Yoongi, since you vaguely recognised his style. On the back wall, you noticed two drapes embroidered in traditional patterns. The floor was covered in thick cream carpets with geometric prints that reminded you of tribal symbols. And sweet lord, that was his wooden, swoon-worthy, customised low table, matching with the piece by the door holding one of his bonsai. A comfy couch with a fluffy, warm blanket, and embroidered pillows. You were mesmerised. You didn't have time to take it all in, your glance running from the upright piano to the microphone standing beside his chair. He didn't turn around, he kept staring at the screen, typing every now and then. His beautiful desk was crowded with stationery, electronic devices, a keyboard and all kinds of knicknacks.

"What is– oh. Hi." His expression was ice-cold.

"Hi. I was passing by, I wanted to bring you some stuff you'd left at mine."

His heart froze. This is the end then.

He'd been avoiding it for almost two weeks, hiding from you in his studio, even though the only things he could write were heartbreaking blue rhymes that had Jimin and Jeongguk exchanging pitying glances.

The beginning of this tragedy was almost comedic in its stupid futility. It was just him incapable of perfecting a pre-chorus. A dumb verse or something. He had called you, talked it out but apparently all he did was just turn down your ideas and suggestions, snapping at you until you exhaustedly told him that you were tired and needed some sleep. He took that as you umpteenth sign that you didn't care about him — which you both knew was entirely wrong — and caused a huge fight which ended on you telling him to go fuck himself, at which he unceremoniously replied that he was okay with that since you were clearly already fucking someone else.

You didn't bother correcting him, since no matter how many times you told him, he always seemed to get back at you being unfaithful and uncaring. You were done justifying yourself, apologising for things you had never done.

"Uhm. I also brought you some food. I didn't know if you had already eaten."

He looked at you like you had finally lit a candle in a dark and cold room.

Your heart broke some more. You asked yourself if there was any more breaking to do, at this point.

You figured there was the moment you heard his hoarse voice speak. "Let's eat together."

You didn't have the guts to deny him.

You laid the bags on the small table and took off your coat. He stood on his feet immediately, crossing the room in a few broad steps and hugging you to his chest.

Let it hurt. You told yourself. It heals faster like that.

His palms settled at your waist and his eyes closed. He breathed you in. He had never felt something really end. His exes were like a song slowly slipping into a diminuendo until they became silence. His interest burned out, his curiosity simply died down and the feelings never seemed to grow fully. They felt like a balloon which was never supposed to be blown that big. This thing with you was like a song being stopped mid-chorus, silence biting in where it wasn't supposed to be. Is this what the end feels like? He asked himself as he held you tighter, one of his hands climbing up and burrowing into your hair. He pressed your face into his chest, where his heartbeat was so strong and so loud that you asked yourself if you could somehow amplify it, if your body could register it and replay it once you were alone in your bed, mourning over this. "You feel taller." He said, noticing how your forehead reached his lips instead of slotting under his jaw.

"I still have my heels on." You replied.

"Wanna take 'em off?" He asked.

You shook your head. "No, if that's not a problem.

He breathed out heavily. He interpreted your refusal as a sign that first, you were keeping your tough-woman shield up — which he couldn't blame you — and second, you weren't intending to stay long.

You tried to part yourself from him. "One more second, little Vixen. Just a second." He whispered.

You allowed him.

"Come on, dinner is getting cold." You said softly.

He didn't let you go, he simply loosened his grip and dragged you to the sofa. He was willing to keep you as close as he could until you ripped the bandaid off, unraveling this small spell that had turned his life into a perfect, dreamlike snowball.

Sitting on the sofa, he made you sit beside him, your side sticking to his from shoulder to hip to knee to ankle.

It was all too much but you didn't have the strength to part from him. He bent down and opened the small boxes.

It was fried chicken.

Like the first time at his place, at two am, naked in his bed after he had owned you in every way that mattered.

He loved fried chicken. And now it would always mean you to him.

No chimaek after fucking with anyone else. He wanted to keep it for you, in case one day you decided to come back, and he would say he had never done that with anyone else, that he had been waiting for you. Because some part of him told him that you would come back.

Both your brains were going on the same path, already mourning someone who was right there in that moment, but already felt so far away. The room was quiet but both your minds were screaming, thinking so loud that the silence was welcome.

"I got you fried chicken. I know you love it."

I love you, his brain replied. But his mouth stayed silent. It was too late anyway.

"Thank you." He said brusquely. He reprimanded himself for sounding so harsh.

"It's okay." You said quietly, using the lid to grab a couple pieces out of the ten or so. You didn't feel like eating and he always ate two thirds of the box anyway.

He exchanged one of your wings for a leg. "You prefer the leg." He said with a shy smile, trying to make up for the coldness he had shown previously.

You had been sleeping with Namjoon for three months now, spending all your spare time together at his place, sometimes moving in for the weekend, the both of you leaving your job early so you could spend Friday afternoon together and go on small dates. He usually had his schedule on Saturdays and Sundays too, so it wasn't uncommon for you to spend several hours alone at his place. You had made small improvements, making his house feel more like a home with small handmade crafts. And when he came back, you would usually try to keep it chill but eventually you ended up in bed, or on the sofa, or the kitchen counter. Or the carpet on the corridor leading to his bedroom. Or the shower. Let's just say that you would be all over each other.

You thought how different it would be now, and how difficult it would be to get him out of your system.

"How is it going." You asked quietly after you swallowed your first bite.

"Tough. I'm polishing some stuff, but this is the part where I doubt everything and want to rewrite all of it." He explained, his fingers gripping the chicken with a precision and finesse that reminded you of his delicate, careful side.

"You'll get through it. You're a pro by now. And I'm sure you have excellent taste. You know what you want and you'll find your way to it." You praised him, rubbing your shoulder against him since your fingers were dirty.

He leaned his head on your shoulder, shrinking down to reach you. "Thank you."

The more time passed, the more you realised he still hadn't said sorry for what he had implied during that phone call.

"That's okay."

"How have you been doing?" He asked, trying not to let his worry show. It still showed, though.

You decided on being honest. "I've been missing you."

He paused eating. "I've been missing you too." He put down the chicken, using the ball of his wrists to press against his temples. "I'm sorry about what I said that day. I know my past relationships and nerves are not valid excuses for how I treated you, but I got swallowed in those and I dragged you in."

You looked at the leg and finished munching on it, stripping the bone of the last few strings of meat. You put down the naked bone, licking your fingers. "You never talked about your most recent ex." You commented.

He picked up his head. "To put it simply, I was her side piece." He said, plainly. "She was getting married to someone else. And she messed around with me." He looked at his feet. "At the beginning I didn't know. It lasted around eight months, as she was waiting for her fiancé to finish his military service. After I discovered it, we kept going for a couple weeks, but I found the whole thing so upsetting and disgusting that we parted ways. Her fiance forgave her and they got married a while ago, a few weeks before I met you." He snickered sarcastically. "I even sent them flowers."

You blinked distractedly. "Joon, I'm so sorry, baby." You brushed your forehead against his arm.

"It's cool. I mean, it's not since I'm still traumatised by it. I've been talking about it with my analyst, but it's been a while since I last went, almost three weeks, because this project had been swallowing me whole — after chewing me a little, clearly." He had his exhausted laugh on.

You felt like you needed to talk about the whole story about that girl, but right now he didn't seem in the right mindset to do that. For now, knowing that he knew he had a bias and he was tackling the issue with a therapist was enough.

"Have you been sleeping, babe?" All the breaking up was momentarily suspended. There was something to save here. You had a lot you still wanted to save from this.

He seemed relieved when you called him that. Don't get your hopes up. He shook his head. "A couple hours at a time. Small naps when I'm tired."

"Okay, so once you're done eating, we're gonna take a good, long nap."

He didn't want to sleep though. He wanted to hold you close, kiss you, make sure that he did everything he could to make you stay. The meal continued quietly, and as soon as you were fed he asked you about your job, how it was going, if you had any new clients or if you had met any new artists. You replied to each question fully, telling him about curious accidents and little inconveniences.

And he listened. He had missed your voice and it felt good to listen to someone who wasn't himself or the boys' voices over speakers and headphones.

As you were both done with dinner, he guided you to the bathroom, standing behind you as you washed your hands. He took some soap, foaming it up between his hands before he caught your left palm within his, pressing and rubbing them together to clean you up. And then he laced his fingers with yours, lathering your digits in bubbles and making sure that the sticky sauce from the chicken disappeared completely. He moved to the other hand as you laid your head against his chest at his collarbone, tipping it back so you could stare at him. You were sure you had never adored someone this much. He turned slightly to look at you, smiling softly. He bent down and pressed his lips to yours gently. No man, no person in the world had ever touched you or kissed you like he has. No one has ever talked to you like him, showed you their world like he has. He reluctantly parted from your lips.

He led your joined hands to close the tap, moving to the hand dryer. It felt all too intimate.

"Joon."

"Let's get back to my studio, yeah?" He whispered in your ear. You nodded.

He laced his hand with yours.

Once you reached the studio, he quietly dragged you to the sofa, pulling at your arm so that you fell with your ass on his lap. He hugged you again. "I am so sorry about what I said. You have told me countless times that I'm the only one."

"You hurt me, Namjoon." You said quietly.

It felt like a slap, his full name.

"Let me make it right." He kissed your cheek and your eyes fell shut. "I want you."

And you wanted him too. You thought yourself crazy for wanting a man so complicated, someone who had disrespected you, who had repeatedly and blatantly demonstrated his lack of trust towards you. Still, when you needed reassurance, affection and devotion, your bodies always came into play, talking with a language so simple and obvious to each other that you simply nodded, whispering "I want you too."

With his index finger he turned your head, kissing you square on the lips and forcing you to part them, his tongue sweeping in your mouth, making your head spin with the intimacy and intensity of it all.

Let him take you, if that would reassure him that you only thought about him, you wanted only him and no one else.

His free hand curled around your thigh, climbing up under the tight knee-length dress you were wearing. The woolen grey number was the first thing to come off as he tugged it over your head and off his way. "You're so gorgeous," He murmured painfully, looking at you and taking in every small detail. "A work of art, little Vixen." He kissed your shoulder.

You smiled shyly, trying to straddle his waist. He toyed with the lace covering your breasts and nipples, teasing them with his fingers until they pressed hard against the fabric. Next he fooled around with the waistband of your tights, making you stand between his legs as he dragged the nylon down your thighs and calves. He stared at your feet, where the garment bunched up, noticing your black stilettos. "Off." He whispered, tapping his foot against yours. Once you took off the shoes, he bent down to help your feet out of your tights. He bit your leg harshly, leaving a mark behind. "Heels on again, Vixen."

Smiling darkly, you slipped them back on, shivering a little, but so happy to wear your favourite black lace set and stilettos for him.

"Walk for me?" He asked, making you put on a little show.

And God, did you enjoy it. His jaw went slack at the Brazilian cut of your panties, exposing to his hungry eyes the perfect curve of your ass, the way it swelled fully before meeting with the back of your thigh.

That was his favourite place to bite. And spank.

You did a small catwalk with your back to him, reaching his chair, which you turned around from his desk to the sofa. Facing the chair, you bent forward, your thumbs catching the fabric of your panties at your sides and pushing them down as you bent forward, offering him the whole panorama.

He groaned. "I'm gonna get an heart attack, baby."

You smiled at him viciously over your shoulder, letting your lower piece of underwear fall to the floor. Next you dragged your full palm up the curve of your ass, smacking it playfully as your fingers made their way to the clasp of your bra.

"You're gonna kill me, Vixen." He cried out.

Bra undone, you let both strings fall down your shoulders, removing one side first and letting the garment dangle from the other side, making your arm fall and drop the delicate lace ordeal.

Your smile disappeared in an innocent pout when you turned around, completely naked except for your shoes.

"I'm gonna sit here." You announced, waiting for his approval.

He nodded eagerly. "Make yourself comfy, Vixen."

You sat down, crossing your legs and propping your elbows on your knees. Shyness was not a word in your vocabulary in that moment. Your only intention was that of distracting him from whatever it was that was mauling his brain.

"Are you going to make me wait, Joon." You teased demandingly.

He stared at you, meeting your glance. "Stay there and sit still." He ordered before grabbing the hem of his sweater and pushing it upwards, taking off both sweater and undershirt in the process. His upper body appeared, a bit skinnier than two weeks ago but maybe it was just the distance and the slouching position. His sweatpants were taut around his lap and you bit your lip as your eyes traced the outline of his length. He laid his palm there, stroking himself over the cotton. "Missed you so much, baby." He groaned and huffed. His eyes closed, his hand grew tense, stronger and heavier. Licking your lips, you kept staring at him, squeezing your thighs as he touched himself for you.

He was hot, all the time, but this… This felt like a fever dream. You were soaked. Thank god his chair was leather and it could be cleaned easily.

He moaned your name, his eyes struggling to open enough to look at you. His voice was so deep and needy, mixed with heavy huffs. "Namjoon." You whined.

He opened his eyes fully, his hand coming to a halt. It was like a cold shower. He was reminded why you were doing this, why you had come to this, the sudden distance that had come within the two of you. "What is it, baby?"

You pushed your ass against the chair, looking for friction. "Come here. Touch me." You begged.

It pained him seeing you so needy and whiny and stressed. "Listen to me, baby thing. Listen very carefully." He wanted to reassure you but he couldn't come to you. "I need you to touch yourself, little one. Can you do that for me? I promise I'll touch you after you cum, baby, but I want to see you first." He asked, palming himself again.

You licked your lips. "Can I?" You questioned innocently, placing your palm on your thigh, your fingertips grazing your crotch.

"You can, doll. Do it for me." He growled, pushing his fingers under his waistband, grabbing his hard on at the base and stroking it as you parted your legs, exposing your wetness. You were beautiful, naked on his chair, dragging your middle finger along your dripping slit. Your other hand grabbed your breast.

"You're a vision, Vixen. You're magnificent, pretty thing."

"I want your tongue, daddy." You mewled, your finger dipping inside, emerging covered in glossy wetness.

He groaned, taking his cock out of his pants, moving the waistband to his thighs. “I’m gonna eat you later, pretty doll. I’ve been starving for weeks for that sweet cunt of yours.” His erection immediately sprung up, arching to his belly button, the lower tendon looking so inviting along that thick vein that always had him throwing his head back whenever you traced it with the tip of your front teeth. As your fingers met your clit, eliciting a whine from your throat, he used four fingers to press on the vein, his thumb already playing with the tip. His hands always looked incredible whenever he used them on himself, strong fingers and spidery tendons making the vision sinfully erotic. However, he was lost in you as much as you were lost in him, his lips parted, his breath panting while you opened your legs wider, using two fingers in small upward circles that teased the underside of your clit. You felt a chill run down your spine, your legs trembling and closing a little with an involuntary reflex. You giggled at that, closing your eyes and moving your grip to the armrest of the chair. Your upper body inched forward a little and your hand stopped.

“Too much, babygirl?” He asked and you smiled brightly, nodding.

You’re gonna miss it, the way she smiles when you’re doing it right, his brain reminded him and as a way to shut it up, he stroked himself faster, with more pressure, his spare hand brushing his abdomen and moving upwards, spreading over his pectoral, scratching the skin there before his thumb and forefinger curved around the base of his neck, pressing there.

You observed the motion, unpausing the movement between your thighs and humming as he gave you his desperate stare, the one that meant that he couldn’t take it anymore, that he was on the verge of it and even the smallest addition to the current situation would have him screaming and cumming.

“Joonie, lemme get close. Cum in my mouth, Joon, please.” You whined.

“No, naughty girl. Stay there and cum for daddy.” He groaned. “Come on, baby, I’m waiting for you.” He said, with a harsh and strained command.

Arching your neck, you started moving faster, opening your legs as far as the armrests allowed, but they only allowed an inch more than what you already had. Huffing with disappointment, you closed them and propped the back of your right knee on top of the armrest and repeated the gesture with your left leg, spreading yourself wide, almost hitting a split with your legs bent at the knees.

“God, you’re the dirtiest. You stretching it out for me? You’re so good, showing daddy how wet you are for him.” He teased, using that raspy voice that he knew always drives you insane.

With short, quick breaths you brought yourself closer and closer to the edge. “Daddy, please, keep talking to me.”

His hand slowed down. “Need to hear my voice, babygirl?”

You nodded and he snickered. “Then I’ll talk to you, little one. You know what I’m gonna do after you cum? I’m gonna crawl to you and kneel between those wondrous legs of yours. I’m gonna push your ass to the edge of the seat and feast on you like I’m trying to die eating that pussy. And do you know what you’re gonna do, Vixen?” He provoked.

You shook your head. “What am I going to do, daddy?” You questioned innocently, your words stumbling a few times as your breath got stuck somewhere in your throat.

“Oh, little fox, you’re gonna grab my hair and push that lovely cunt on my lips and tongue, fucking my face so hard and fast, pressing your sexy heels on my naked shoulders. I want to hear you gasp for air because I make you cum so good you forget to breathe, you forget how to speak.”

“Joon, I’m cumming.” You cried out, your legs starting to quiver and your clit getting too sensitive to stand the movement of your fingers, slipping them inside and pushing them in slow circles around your cervix.

His fingers moved back to the tip, the other hand massaging his balls. “Take it, Vixen, that’s it baby. I’m cumming, ____.” He moaned your name, spilling his release on his lower stomach.

You were still staring at each other with your chests heaving, eyes wild, hands stained by your pleasure. It was always the two of you. Always getting caught up in each other, always getting tangled in each other's fantasies with this constant lust pulling you in and never having enough. You wondered when the hunger would stop, when you would grow tired of his insecurity and possessiveness, when he would find out you're too kinky, too needy, too fucked up for a busy man like him to handle.

He cleaned his hand with one of the unused paper towels from dinner, crumbling it and throwing it in the box with the garbage from dinner.

"Joonie." You whispered, waiting.

"Coming, baby fox." He replied, standing up and taking off his sweatpants and boxers, walking straight to you. You closed your legs, a bit cold and embarrassed now that your high was over. Standing right in front of you, he cupped your cheek, making you look up at his face, however, even though your head was tipped back, aimed at his eyes, your glance hung low, staring at the droplets smearing his abdomen. "What are you looking at, spoiled little fox?" He said, with a sardonic smile.

"I wanna lick."

He grinned and scooped some liquid with his digit, bringing it to your lips.

Parting your lips, you licked your lower one first, then you let your tongue dart out and swipe at his finger, carefully sucking it into your mouth before he lowered his eyes, staring into yours and smirking seducingly as he pulled his digit out. You smacked your lips and savoured his taste, your eyelids falling shut as you hummed at his flavour.

His cock, once half soft, was now hardening again, swelling intermittently and slowly rising to his navel. But Namjoon's eyes were focused on your face. "Want more?" He asked once your eyes opened and your gaze focused on his face. With a sex-addled, lazy grin you nodded, opening your mouth.

He grinned right back. "Such a hungry little girl."

Impatient, you grabbed his hips, pulling him towards you and licking his belly clean. He groaned, observing you closely.

I'm going to teach her some patience and some manners, he thought darkly. However, he immediately reminded himself that he would never have the time, your liaison coming to an end.

With this unfortunate thought, he cupped your face. "I'm the one supposed to be eating now, ____. Let me take care of you, darling." He said, before falling to his knees. Immediately he pushed the back of the chair to the table, so that it wouldn't cartwheel out of his grasp.

Once more you asked yourself how many times he had done that before, thinking about how the relationship with the bride-to-be must have been mostly sexual, since you don't usually have much romance and dates with someone who is taken. Even though he didn't know she was taken. Whatever.

In that moment he was there, kneeling before you, placing your heels on his shoulders, cupping your ass and tipping it forward so he could easily and comfortably give you that first, glorious lick from your hole to your clit. "Taste so good." He said, nuzzling his lips side to side as he spoke, mixing the movement to the vibration of his voice. He bit the small tattoo at the top of your thigh, where it met your pelvis, just shy of your hip bone. "Sexy little thing." He kissed it. "Drove me insane since day one." As usual, he sucked at it, causing a dark purple mark to bloom over it. "Fucking perfect."

He laid his tongue flat against your slit drawing the tiniest circles with the whole length of it.

You hand-combed his hair back, holding it so you could look into his dragon eyes. He looked vicious and dangerous and so cunning, so smart in the most atrocious way.

"Namjoon." You moaned, your hips arching closer to his mouth.

He snickered cockily, moving his tongue slowly back into his mouth, allowing only the tip to wander up your crevice and reach the apex of your labia. He delivered a set of ten licks, slow and curling perfectly against your nub. "Are you good, little fox?" He asked.

You nodded and pushed his head back between your legs.

He laughed loudly, fighting against you. "I'm not done talking, brat." He bit your lower belly gently. "I'm gonna pump your clit with my mouth, Vixen. I'll suck it twenty times, then I'll let you rest until I'm ready again. I'll keep going until you cum. Remember that after twenty I'll pause. This could easily turn into edgeplay, baby, so you'd better get very horny very fast. You okay, Vixen?"

He checked on you and you nodded, impatient to simply have him on your clit.

"Be verbal, little girl." He reprimanded.

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl. Let's get started."

He wasted no time. He wrapped his lips around your clit and started sucking, sucking so hard that you knew the following day his jaw and ears would hurt. At pump fifteen you already knew you needed more than twenty to cum. And as twenty arrived you whined but you felt confident that the next set would suffice.

This time you felt your edge at twelve, still you needed more. You were getting wetter and wetter, so soaked that his saliva and your slick mixed up and made you feel uncomfortable between your asscheeks.

"Joon–" You said, at which he mumbled "language" in between two pumps.

"Daddy, I want your fingers inside." You said, indulging his every whim.

He fumbled around with his arms, securing you with his left, making sure that your backside wouldn't get too close to the edge of the seat, and cause you to fall. His right arm moved back to your front, his index and middle finger coming to your entrance and waiting, his drool sliding from his tongue down your slit and directly on his fingers which, now lubricated, slipped in with no friction or resistance. The pressure was mind-blowing, your head spinning. "Daddy, please."

"Please what?" He said, hitting his pause.

"Make me cum. Let me." You asked, as meekly as you could.

"Why should I, uh?" He teased.

"Because I am a good girl." Because I love you, said an obnoxious part of your brain.

"Then I need you to say it one last time, Vixen. I know I've tormented you, but I need to ask it once and for all. Is there anyone else?" He said, his voice almost breaking.

"No, Namjoon. I swear to God, there's no one else. I promise it. I swear on everything that I love the most. Please." You begged, hoping that he would feel the desperate honesty in your voice. "Please. You're my only daddy. I have you, only you. I am yours." You said, and God if it felt right, if it felt true, being his, belonging to him.

Tell him you love him, your brain said again, but you refused.

He smiled brightly at your declaration. "We're done playing, if you want to, Vixen."

You simply nodded, batting your lashes at him. "I want to."

"Then hold tight because I'm not going to stop until you're fucking my face and screaming my name and shaking on this seat. Understood?" He warned you.

"Yes, daddy." You replied.

"Then hold tight, baby fox. I'm gonna eat you alive."

"Try." You challenged him.

And that's when he pounced. His pumps became longer, impossibly tighter, and the small pause between one and the next became shorter. Your eyes locked with his, brows knitting together, lips parting in a mewl as you threw your head back. "Namjoon. Please, daddy."

Smirking, he mixed the pumping motion with a barely-there curl of his tongue, teasing your clit with such delicate pressure that you couldn't even wrap your head around the incredible amount of tension that it was causing in your body. Your hands tightened in his hair, your moans dissolving into small giggles.

He wanted to tell you how good you sounded, how pretty you looked, how he wanted to see this every day for the rest of his life. He loved seeing you this happy, this carried away. He loved your morning voice and your late night cuddles. He loved breakfast in bed and midnight snacks and three a.m. quickies. He loved watching you take off your bra from under your t-shirt before going to bed, he loved seeing you shiver as you went to the bathroom early in the morning, clad in his t-shirt, plain cotton briefs and a pair of socks even in the dead of winter, since he always kept you warm under the covers by holding you close. He wanted to confess it all: the heartwarming wonder he felt staring at you had when you focused while reading and studying, when you brushed your hair, when you got dressed before leaving for the day, when you stood at the kitchen counter, cooking, with your back to him, and again when you applied lotion all over your body after showering, when he kissed your nape, standing behind you and donning the zipper of your dress.

However, he stayed silent, showing it all with the reckless ministrations of his mouth as your chest blushed, your hands grabbed his hair almost painfully and your hips snapped, your mouth opening in a silent scream.

You hadn't even bothered telling him you were cumming. He knew anyway. His mouth became more gentle, resolving to small licks while his fingers massaged your walls deep and slow, perfectly responding to the contractions of your muscles. "Here, pretty thing." He murmured, his hair tickling the skin of your stomach. "I've got you, baby. Shhh." He calmed you down, your breath coming in heavy pants, your heartbeat going like crazy. He rubbed his soaked fingers against his thigh, briefly cleaning himself before coming up to your face, cupping your cheeks. "Are you okay, little one?"

You nodded with your eyes closed, getting sleepy.

He caressed your face. "Open your eyes for me, baby girl, let me see your pretty eyes."

With a beatific smile you tried to look at him, eyelids lifting, taking a few seconds to focus on him.

"There she is, my moonshine." He cooed, pressing a kiss to your lips. "You look really happy, baby thing."

You simply moved your head in a nod.

"Do you want more, little fox?" He asked, still fussing over you. "Can you take it just one more time, babe?"

Licking your lips you nodded again with a giggle.

He smiled. "You keep nodding, baby. Are you saying yes to daddy?"

"Yes, Joonie." You whispered slowly.

"Good girl. Can you walk, Vixen?"

"Yes."

"Great. I want you to kneel in front of the coffee table, darling." He commanded, rising to his feet and helping you stand up.

This would be the last time, he decided.

He would allow himself your heaven just one more time, then he would hold you close for a few minutes, clean you up, accompany you home and let you go. He wasn't man enough to look into your eyes. He was weak and unfair. He turned you around with your back to him, his erection brushing against the small of your back. Once you were in front of the table, he moved your hair to the side, skimming the curve of your ear with his lower lip. "Kneel, Vixen."

You did.

He kneeled behind you, moving the books and magazines on the floor, away from the two of you, while the traces of your dinner were thrown into the bag, which he would discard later. With an empty table, he pushed his palm from the small of your back to your nape, making your front adhere to the table and making sure that your hair was out of the way. "I know you love this table." He murmured.

"I do."

"I do, too." His heart felt like a burden. Without further hesitation, he grabbed his length and rubbed his tip against you. "You ready, ____?"

"Please."

With a groan he slipped in, the filling sensation causing a loud whine on your behalf. "Quiet." He reprimanded.

You got a little scared at his dark voice, knowing that at this point you'd better obey. However, it lasted little. Once he bottomed out, he growled, bending down to your neck. "You good, little one?" He said, his sweet persona back in place.

"Yes, daddy."

He was breathing heavily through his nose as he sucked at the skin of your neck, marking you. As soon as he was sure the mark would bruise and stay for at least a couple days, he released your skin. "Do you want your spanks, baby girl?"

Your eyes rolling with pleasure, you hummed. "I want them so much, daddy. Spank me, please."

He simply breathed. "With pleasure, little one." He knew no one would ever be this good to him.

His chest parted from your back, a small shiver settling in instead.

The first smack was harsh, angry. You clenched around him and he thrusted in violently, growling.

The second one hit the tender skin of your outer thigh, where it met your ass. "Daddy." You whined.

"Quiet." He chastised again, his voice strained. He hammered into you four or five times.

"Daddy, it hurts." You cried out, at which he stayed silent, simply spanking you again, twice, without rubbing soothingly at your skin. You emitted a shrill huffing sound of complaint, at which he answered with violent ramming into you, using both hands to push you onto his lap.

This was not how Joon usually did it. This was not normal. With worry distracting your mind, you turned your head, looking at him. His eyes were closed, droplets falling down his cheeks. Was it sweat or tears?

"Namjoon?" You asked, alarmed.

He shook his head, biting his lip. "You good?" He asked, eyes still closed.

"Stop." You murmured.

He obeyed, exiting your warmth and opening his eyes, still avoiding your gaze contact. "Did I—?"

"Look at me."

He shook his head. "I can't."

"Namjoon." You reprimanded.

As your eyes met his, you noticed they were rimmed with tears, and he was biting his lip to hold back a sob, shaking his head in shame.

Your initial shock was followed by an overwhelming sense of tenderness for the beautiful, delicate man in front of you.

You quickly decided what to do.

You turned around fully, facing him as you stood on your knees, your hands caressing his cheeks. "What is it, Joonie bear?"

He simply frowned and hid in the crook of your neck, desperate.

"What is it?" You asked again.

He nuzzled even more into your chest, inhaling the damp feel of your skin. "I just want it to be a good memory." He huffed with a broken whisper.

A memory? "Why would it be a memory, Namjoon?" You asked, confused.

"If it's our last time, I wanna be good to you." He said, and you could feel every ounce of sadness in his voice.

Last time? "Joonie bear, why would it be our last time?"

His shoulders shook with sobs as he stopped holding back his tears. "I've been a bastard, it's okay if you want to go." He tried saying in his most composed voice.

You frowned in confusion. "No, Namjoon."

"You want to leave me. It's okay. I need it only one last time."

You shook your head, trying to grab his chin and make him look at you. However, he strongly opposed.

"Joonie." You murmured, hugging his head and caressing his hair. "I'm not here to leave you." You whispered. "I want to be with you." You continued.

He shook his head even more. "I was dumb. You have every right—"

"No." You kissed his head, caressing his shoulders, hugging him tight. "I'm not going anywhere."

He looked up at you, his face covered in tears.

"Oh, baby bear." You cooed, touching his cheeks, kissing his forehead. "Don't cry, Joonie." He disappeared even more into you, hugging your entire figure, dwarfing you. "Don't cry, my love." You whispered, the word tiptoeing out of your lips. He sobbed harder. "I'm so in love with you, Joonie bear." You crooned, offering him all your soul in those simple, childish words.

"You love me?" He asked, confused, alarmed, petrified.

"I love you, Namjoon." You repeated.

He completely forgot his messy face and brought his lips to yours, his mouth melting into you eagerly as your tongues spoke a language that came so natural to both of you.

Breathless, he parted from you. "I love you. I love you so much." He pressed tens of kisses on your face with such speed and pressure that you felt like disappearing into him.

"I love you too." You giggled, trying to clean his face.

You both laughed, elated, his hands coming to your waist, holding you closer and closer. "I wanna make love to you." He whispered. "Let me love you."

"Missionary on the carpet or cowgirl on the sofa?" You asked.

"Why choose when you can have both?" He wiggled an eyebrow. You smiled. He smiled back. "Let's get on the sofa." He replied gently. "You'll catch a cold with your sweaty back on the freezing floor."

"But no missionary on the sofa…" You cried out like a child.

He smiled. "Do you want missionary so bad?" He kissed your temple, smiling.

"I guess I'll be happy with anything you want." You pouted, still doubtful.

"C'mere." He said, getting even closer. You slipped your stilettos off and he picked you up by the back of your thighs and with some strength you didn't know he had, he carried you to the sofa, careful not to step on your shoes. "I'm going to sit. Careful with your legs." He warned, plopping down as carefully and as gently as he could, mercifully avoiding to sit with your calves underneath him.

"Don't worry, I won't make you ride me, baby." He kissed your brow. "You're too tired for that." He cradled you to his chest, offering you a bit of his body heat. "Can you push it inside you for me, love?" He asked seducingly, kissing your neck.

You smiled and reached between your bodies. He was already pulsating, you knew he would come undone in a few strokes. Slowly, you lifted your hips and pushed his tip inside, making him groan.

"You're always so tight, babylove. Fuck, you feel amazing." He sucked at your neck some more, drawing a twin bruise to the one you had on the other side of your throat. "I feel like a fucking teenager with you. I can never get enough." His hips jutted a little, pushing into you while his forearm around your waist pulled you down, his hand gripping your ass.

"Daddy." You breathed out, your forehead pressed against his neck as he bottomed out.

"Yes?" He replied, soothing you with long caresses down your spine. "Does it hurt, doll?"

He had so many nicknames for you but you couldn't wait for your next. "No, daddy." He held your face away from his shoulder. "Are you sure babylove?"

Your face stretched in a slight grimace. "Maybe."

He giggled and kissed your cheek, sliding down to your mouth. "I'm sorry, Vixen." He pressed his lips to yours once and then again. "I'm so sorry, baby. For everything." He combed your hair back. "I can't promise you I'll never hurt you, but I can promise I'll try to make it better every single time." He held you close as your brow furrowed. "I love you." He whispered, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other pressing on your lower back.

"I love you too." You said right back. "But please, Joonie…"

"Need me to move?" He asked.

"I want you to cum." You murmured.

He smirked and nodded. "Want me to finger you?" He asked, already drawing short thrusts into you and helping you ride him with his forearm around you.

"Yes, please, daddy." You whined.

His right hand left the crown of your head, coming to the top of your thighs and beginning to draw small circles at the apex of your labia, the flat of his thumb wide enough to cover your bundle of nerves entirely.

"Would you like to take your time, Vixen?" He asked kindly, knowing that sometimes it took you a bit longer than him to actually get worked up.

"I just need you to keep going exactly like this. You're perfect, Joonie."

He grunted and started pushing into you from below. "Like this?" He said, his voice a tad strained.

His thrusts were low and deep, curling just enough to hit your sweet spot. He realised you started holding your breath. Usually that meant you were close.

He bent his head, looking down where your bodies joined. It was hypnotizing, his thumb drawing perfectly identical circles. He started kissing and licking any and every inch of skin that came close to his mouth, your shoulder, your chest, your neck, sucking whenever he managed to grip the skin for long enough to bruise and mark.

When you started shoving yourself on him, bouncing in earnest, he kept his cool and stopped fooling around, staying focused on lasting long enough, doing the exact same thing, knowing that with a few thrusts delivered just right, you would become like putty in his arms and he could just get crazy and chase his high.

With your lips parting in a high pitched moan, you pressed your hips to his two more times before your chest collapsed into his with a tired whimper. "Take what you need." You murmured before propping yourself with your forearms against the back of the sofa, lifting your hips. Your face was pressed at the crook beneath his jaw, your tongue blindly chasing the droplets of sweat sliding down the column of his throat. He emitted an animalistic groan before his palms thudded heavily against your glutes, gripping your hips so hard that both his knuckles and your flesh turned white. And then he started ramming into you from below. The sounds in the room were a mix of his grunts, the smacking of flesh and the wetness between your legs, but more quietly, under all those layers, in between a groan and the next, there were his whispered love declarations, which poured out of his mouth like prayers, until he was so close, so fucked out that he could only repeat 'I love you', over and over, interrupted only by a final howl as he spilled inside you.

In all of this you had tried to stay quiet, shushing him and kissing his neck, not sure that you were allowed to mark him.

You laid both exhausted, his body sliding sideways down the sofa, trying to rest on the seats, his head laying on an armrest as his ankles dangling from the other. You covered him like a blanket, your hair draping over his chest and tumbling down the edge of the sofa.

You were both sweaty and messy with cum and drool, still you simply laid there, until you felt too cold and shivered.

"Blanket?" You asked.

He shook his head. "I'd better dress you and take you back at mine. I can go home tonight. There's no use working late. I need to rest anyway."

"Are you sure." You asked, touching his face.

He kissed your wrist. "Sure."

"I have to clean your chair first. I should have some wet wipes in my handbag." You mumbled. "And I should clean myself too before I drip on your lovely sofa."

He hummed, tired, fake-crying as he said "I don't wanna get up."

"My bag is right beside the sofa, just stretch your arm backward." You directed him.

He fumbled around a bit, moving the bag from behind his head to your side, where you could easily reach inside. After a bit of rummaging, you fished out your wipes, making a quick work of pulling him out and cleaning yourself.

"Cold." He muttered with a pout, which you kissed away from his face.

"Come on, baby bear, get up and get dressed. I wanna shower with you and shower you in kisses." You pampered him, trying to convince him to get ready to leave.

He whined as you sat up, quickly dashing to recoup your underwear. Once you were wearing it, you cleaned his chair, quite happy when you noticed that it wasn't half as bad as you though. When you turned, you noticed he was staring at you, already completely dressed, your dress in his hands. You moved closer.

"Up with your arms, love." He said gently, and for a second you realised that your simple and emotional confessions weren't a mirage caused by arousal or desperation.

You followed his instructions as he helped you wear your dress, slipping it over your head and helping you find both sleeves. Next he gripped the hem at both sides, delicately rolling the fabric down your body. Once it reached your knees, he let his hands skim back up your hips and waist, crossing his wrists behind your back before squeezing your ass. He stared at your throat.

"Will I have to wear a turtleneck for the next ten days?" You asked, slipping the neck of your dress aside and checking the damage.

"Sorry." He murmured.

"It's okay. I like it. I'm just teasing you." You said with a playful smirk.

"Brat." He mouthed with a snicker, bending down to pick up your tights.

You tutted, stealing them from his hands. "Let me do these, they're tricky."

He simply stared, his body trembling with a new tide of arousal at the mannerism you used to put on the garment, rolling up one leg between your thumbs and forefingers, pressing your toes against the stitching and dragging the nylon up your leg. He had seen this scene in an old Italian movie, but seeing the gesture in real life helped him understand the frenzy that the main character experienced after such an act. After you repeated the movement on the other leg, his mouth practically salivating, he watched some more as you fixed the gusset and the waistband, stretching the garment around the curve of your ass.

"Call me whenever you need to wear those." He whispered in marvel and agony. "I might take them off you just to see it all over again."

You smiled coquettishly, grabbing your coat and wearing it.

He kneeled in front of you, holding one of your shoes. "When's your birthday?" He asked, making you lift one foot as he slipped your heel on.

You frowned, the connection unknown to you. "Mid-november. Why?"

He held your other shoe and you held onto his shoulder as you lifted your other foot, wearing the black stiletto. "I loved seeing those on you tonight. I might buy you another pair or eight as a birthday gift."

You shook your head and laughed. "I don't need a sugar daddy, I'm happy with my plain, regular one." He rose to his feet and you grabbed his cheeks, planting a big, fat smooch on his mouth. "I'm actually very, very in love."

"Hello, Actually Very, Very in Love. My name is Head Over Heels — he pointed at your shoes — in Love. Pleased to meet you."

You laughed and he felt his heart explode with joy, his nose brushing against yours with Eskimo kisses. "Your bag." He said, bending to pick it up. "My bags." He said, collecting his tote and the small paper bag with his belongings that you had brought him. He neared his desk, checking the various devices. "Equipment off, computer off–" He mumbled as he moved the mouse to shut down the system. Meanwhile you fixed the low table, putting the magazines back on top of it. He switched off his table lamp and moved towards the door. "Dinner." He reminded himself, picking up the trash bag by the entrance. "You ready, Vixen?"

You hummed in confirmation.

"Let's go."

#bangtan smut #bts smut #bangtan sonyeondan #namjoon smut #namjoon one shot #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fic #bangtan fanfic #bangtan fic #Namjoon x reader

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avengersassemble-fics · 3 years

Text

Stark’s Girl

part 013/015 “i’m not going anywhere”

previous part // next part

masterlist

word count 3.1k

The Avengers Compound has not changed one bit, albeit the lack of people roaming the halls was hard to ignore. Your first couple months with Nat had gone relatively smoothly and you didn’t have a single blackout episode yet, but you had been taking precautions. You didn’t tune into the news, opting instead for streamed episodes of that Office show tony demanded you finish. Natasha had introduced you to podcasts, but you were careful to avoid any of the ones about “Moving on After the Blip,” or “Remembering before the Blip,” because you were sure you’d lose it. Sometimes you chose to just listen to soft classical music, which was your choice for today. It was the weekend, things had been quiet on the communication end for Natasha, so she dismissed you for a couple days (not that she wouldn’t be able to call for you if she needed, but the idea of having free time was nice.)

Every week you set aside some time to come to the deserted half of the Residence hall.. The rooms that once were lived in by other Avengers were abandoned, and this was one of the most glaring reminders of what was lost four years ago. You had a pattern that you always stuck to, and you always started with Sam’s room, clearing off any dust that may have accumulated and repositioned the knick knacks that adorned the shelves that lined the walls. There were pictures of him with his flight partner wearing the wings that Sam had made his own.

Vision’s room was a little more bare. And by a little more you mean it was basically two chairs and a painting. Nonetheless you made sure the painting always hung straight and no dust dared to stay on the famous Mulberry Tree. Sometimes you’d stop and wonder why Vision had chosen this painting out of everything, and almost always you opted for the answer that Vision admired Van Gogh’s acknowledgement of no matter his place in the world, all he could do was carry on and paint. Maybe that resonated with Vision, especially given his connection with Wanda.

Wanda’s room was more homey, you had always admired what she had done with the place. There had been a number of times she’d let you come in with a bowl of popcorn and you both would watch old timey sitcoms together. You took great care in making sure her room was exactly how she left it, and made sure to replace the vanilla sage wall scent just in case.

The last room that you often avoided was Steve’s. Nat said that he stopped by often for laundry purposes and to check in, but you had yet to see him since you moved back in. Was it an invasion of privacy or was it a nice gesture since you’d done everyone else’s? With a deep breath and steady hand, you pushed open Steve’s door and turned the light on and took in the sight.

It was almost exactly how you remembered it. The bed remained untouched all this time, still made perfectly just how Steve had done every morning. No one must’ve come in here in awhile, or maybe Steve did the last time he had come to see Nat, because there was a faint hint of his cologne in the air. You did notice that the small touches Steve did have in here were long gone, the only hint that anything had adorned the shelving in the room was the faint outlines that were slowly but surely being covered by dust. You hesitantly ran a dust rag over the shelving, going row by row before beeping interrupted your cleaning regime.

“Stupid earphones,” you grumbled and took them out your ear and shoved them into your pockets. You made a note to self to charge them when you went back to your room (and not run them through the washer like you did with tony’s pair that one time). You reached down for the windex to spray the mirror that hung on the wall when you gasped at the sight of someone standing behind you.

“What the hell, Steve,” you exclaimed.

Steve stood in the doorway holding a basket with what looked like a heap of clothing in it. The small smile that graced his face let you know that he was amused, and not afraid to show it. “So we’re breaking and entering now?”

The callback to your first meeting post-Siberia fallout didn’t fall flat. You stood a little straighter and motioned towards the door. ��I um.. I did the other’s and thought I should do yours too.”

“That’s a nice gesture,” Steve confirmed. He took small strides into the room, never giving off more than a casual vibe, and set his basket down on the bed. Steve proceeded to start folding the clothes he pulled out and you weren’t sure if you should leave or not, but the feeling was quickly squashed. “Don’t let me stop you from your routine.”

The term he used made you raise a brow, but you also didn’t question him on how he knew of your routine. Instead, you turned back to the mirror and sprayed it down, and wiped away the liquid with paper towels. The only sound in the room was the light squeaks made from your wipes, and the soft sound of his clothes falling into folded piles. When you finished you turned around and set the windex in the carrier you had with more cleaning supplies which caused him to look up from what he was doing. “Right I should.. Get out your way.”

You grabbed the carrier with no objection from Steve and made your way to the door. As much as it pained you to admit it, sometimes you missed his company. Steve had always been the one person you felt at home with, besides Tony and his family of course. But with Steve it was like.. Like how Pepper and Morgan were to Tony.. His family. Steve had begun to feel like yours, and maybe that’s why it was hard to not have that anymore. But his voice tore you from your thoughts, and froze you in your tracks. “Have you had dinner yet?”

“What?” You asked, unsure if he was even speaking to you. You turned around to him and he indeed was looking your way, folding a shirt in the process.

“Have you had dinner?” He asked again.

“Uh,” you checked your wrist and the watch you were wearing blinked back up at you that it was 6:45. “Actually no I haven’t.”

“Nat was planning on a late night to catch Rhodey on an update on a mission,” Steve started, placing the shirt he was folding down behind him and meeting your gaze again. “I was thinking Thai?”

You didn’t answer right away, averting your gaze to the floor in thought, which made Steve smile. “Oh come on.. I know it’s your favorite.”

You couldn’t help but laugh and raise a brow at him. “We’ve resorted to bribery?”

“If that’s what it takes,” Steve admitted. You found yourself biting your lip and finally gave him a nod.

“Alright, I’m game, but only if I get some of those little cheese rolls,” you countered. Steve nodded with a grin on his face.

“Deal. I have another load finishing but let’s meet in the kitchen in.. Thirty?” He asked.

You nodded in agreement and took a step back out the room, “Thiry.”

It was a nerve wrecking thirty minutes. Did you dress up? Why would you even dress up? Steve was just being.. Nice. That was all! And you weren’t so easily swayed with the offer of food, though the grumbling in your stomach said otherwise. When you had caught a glimpse of yourself you hurriedly changed out of the disheveled shirt you had been wearing and threw on some sweater you had found in your closet. It was warm and cozy, but also more put together. Did you want to look put together? God, why were you even stressing out like this? Steve and you were done, finished, over.. But you couldn’t help but think back to his smile. The damn smile was enough to make your head feel light. You tapped your phone against your thigh when a message came thru from Nat, and you scoffed at it.

Nat: Give me a heads up if things get steamy, I don’t want to hear make up sex tonight.

You weren’t going to reply, even when she double texted using that winky face emoji with its tongue out. You opened your bedside drawer and tossed your phone in there and decided you weren't going to stress about this anymore. You were going to go down to the kitchen and enjoy your favorite food from your favorite place (did Steve remember that too?) and.. See what happens. Go with the flow is what Tony always told you right? You didn’t want to stop and think if that applied to dealing with Steve again, and instead threw open your door and made your way to the kitchen.

The sweet and savory aroma that filled your nose as you came into sight was welcomed, and the sight of the familiar logo of the restaurant made you even more giddy. Steve did remember. He was pulling out take out boxes and the given chopsticks and dressings when he glanced up to see you approaching, and cracked a smile while he continued to lay everything out. “I think I remembered everything.. Shrimp pad thai, level three spice.. Let’s see..”

He drifted off as you watched him pull out another smaller box and give a little nod to himself. “Soft spring rolls with the peanut sauce,” he paused and pulled the small container of liquid out of the bag. “And as promised, an order of cheese rolls.”

He set everything aside and you chuckled, “Wow you really remembered everything down to the sauce.”

“What can I say, I’m a man of my word,” he motioned to the rest of the common space. “Maybe we can watch something while we eat?”

“Sounds good to me,” you agreed, and carefully with stacked takeout boxes, Steve and you made your way over to the common area, sitting on the same couch but with a comfortable space between you two. The night divulged into the two of you eating dinner, and Steve had picked one of the shows Wanda had introduced him to, called I Love Lucy. You weren't sure how long you both had stayed in the same spots, but the food was long gone, and it was pitch black outside. But you were.. Comfortable. You were enjoying his presence, though you both did still keep your distance. It was significantly colder now since there wasn’t much movement in the room, and you sat back with your legs under you and arms crossed over your body, your sweater no longer much help.

Steve took notice a while ago and had periodically checked his watch. The time neared closer to 11, and knowing you sooner or later you would fall out. The lights may have been dimmed but he could see the way your hands pulled your sweater cuffs to cover your fingers. But you didn’t make a move, which he didn’t know why. Well.. He kind of knew why because he had felt the same way. He was just as nervous as you were, but he didn’t want to see you suffer in silence. “It’s gotten a bit chilly, I’m gonna grab a blanket real quick.”

You had let out a small mhm, and Steve stood and walked over to the cabinets that surrounded the tv you both were watching, and grabbed one to use. He proceeded to sit back where he had been all night, and spread the blanket over his lap. As he fiddled with the fabric he glanced your way and saw you eyeing the soft cover, and he lifted the part closest to you. “There’s plenty to share if you want?”

You weren’t so hesitant this time. Steve only held the blanket open for you for a few seconds before you grabbed a hold of it and slid yourself closer to him so the blanket covered you fully. You glanced his way as you made yourself comfortable right by his side, and cleared your throat. “Thank you.”

You knew what he was doing, you weren’t completely blind to it, but you also were grateful that he wasn’t making it a big deal. Because it wasn’t right? It was just two adults watching tv, who had dinner together, and sharing a blanket. Totally, completely innocent. You were forced to refocus on the screen when Steve shifted next to you, and his arm draped on the couch behind you.

Innocent enough.. Right?

Steve was relaxing, he was getting comfortable. A few minutes passed before you decided to unwind a bit too. You relaxed deeper into the couch and pulled the blanket up a little higher, and let out a content sigh. In all honesty you couldn’t remember the last time you felt at peace like this. And it was thanks to Steve, which was a little infuriating to admit (because he knew what he was doing, you were sure of that).

Steve was unsure what was running through your mind, but he knew it must’ve been working a hundred miles a minute. He tried his best to focus on the episodes that passed by, not even aware of how much time had passed when he felt you fall into his side. He glanced down and there you were, laying into his side with closed eyes, and it made him check his watch. Sure enough it was past midnight, which was right on time for you. He could hear the heavy exhales, and he moved very carefully.

The arm he had draped on the back of the couch (in all honesty, in preparation for this moment) he lowered down to hook around you, and used his hand to pull the blanket up higher. Steve kept his arm wrapped around you and relaxed back into the couch, then with his free hand he grabbed the remote and shut the tv off, the bright light fading from the room. The only cast of light came from further down the hall, and allowed him to fully gaze down at you.

Steve had forgotten how peaceful you looked while sleeping, even despite what he knew was running through your mind. So Steve did what he thought was best, he closed his eyes and eventually drifted off to sleep too.

Nat was not prepared to walk into the kitchen early in the morning and catch Rogers and you cuddling on the common room couch. But boy was she living for it. During her morning routine she had a shit eating grin on her face, and prepared her coffee as silently as she could. The coffee pot warmed up with a soft hum, she had made sure to load it with coffee grounds quietly, and when it was ready to be poured she opened up the cabinet, grabbed a mug, and closed it as loud as she could.

Bang.

The sudden noise was enough to startle you, causing your eyes to peel open and be met with the glaring sunlight that poured into..

Oh no. The common room. You were still in the common room.

Your eyes darted to where the sound had come from and there was Nat smiling into her coffee mug, and you slowly shifted your gaze up to Steve who was just waking up. You were now very aware that he was holding you which therefore meant you were cuddling with him. You had never gotten up so fast in your life, pulling the blanket up with you. Steve glanced Natasha’s way and then back at you, who was rolling the blanket up rapidly. “Oh-”

“I’m so sorry,” you offered, and even offered him the blanket back. Steve, with a raised brow, took the balled up blanket with one hand and you proceeded to shake his other. “Thank you for the dinner, Steve.”

And then you were gone in a flash. Steve sighed and set the balled up blanket down and rubbed his face with his hand when a chuckle from the kitchen. Natasha took a couple steps closer to him, and rested her shoulder against a wall. “You’re certainly playing with fire.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Steve replied as he stood from the couch. Natasha shrugged and tapped her fingers against the mug in her hands. “We fell asleep.”

“All I’m saying is you told me you were going to just ask to have dinner and call it a night.. But here we are,” she couldn’t help but laugh at the end of that statement and Steve rolled his eyes. “Sorry, it’s just.. Well it’s kind of cute how much you’re trying to deny you didn’t plan this.”

Steve shook his head, and without another word to Natasha he headed to your room. It was a familiar route, right down the hall from his old room, and the door was closed when he finally got there. He lightly tapped his knuckles against the door and rested his shoulder against the frame. He could hear the creak from your bed and your feet hit the floor, and in a few seconds you pulled open the door and blinked up at him.

“Hi,” Steve offered.

“Hi,” you replied back. You didn’t move and neither did he and Steve sighed.

“I’m sorry if that was.. Too much. Just wanted some company last night and lost track of time-”

“I’m sorry for falling asleep on you,” you cut him off. Steve couldn’t help the lopsided smile that spread over his face.

“It’s not a problem at all,” he reassured you. For a second a smile formed over your lips, but then it faded, and your expression fell.

“Steve… What are we doing here?” You asked him point blank. Steve inhaled deeply before lightly shrugging his shoulders.

“I guess I’m just.. Trying to do the right thing,” Steve offered. You smiled sadly at him and he motioned his hand at you. “I missed you and just.. I wanted to do something nice.”

“It was nice, Steve,” you whispered to him before taking a deep breath. “But I’m.. Not ready-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered to you. You met his gaze and he shook his head lightly at you, not breaking that eye contact. “As long as it takes.. I’ll wait.”

Steve meant what he said, and sure enough he started to come by more. He offered his companionship and in slow strides you accepted his invitations.. But one question looms.

Was Steve going to keep his word?

- - - - - - - - - -

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ao3theskyisblue · 3 years

Text

Take it easy

Summary:

“Are you looking to get infected?” Nancy raises an eyebrow, smiling when TK snorts. “Because I’m pretty sure I can make that happen.”

“I see you’re just going to be a pain in my neck both on shift and off shift, huh?” TK teases, the words said without an ounce of heat, and Nancy shrugs, grinning smugly.

“My lungs are dying, TK. I think I have complaining privileges.”

Written for Day 4 of @911lonestarangstweek : Sickfic + “You need to rest.”

Read on AO3

“Tell me I did not just hear from that lovely nurse Melody say what I think she just said.”

Nancy forces back a loud groan, knowing that she would just be coughing up her lungs again. Looking up from her Instagram feed, she spies TK leaning against the entry of her hospital room, looking less than impressed. She parts her lips to reply, but TK holds up a hand.

“That was a rhetorical question. I forbid you to say even a single word.” The words sound like a warning, but Nancy has worked and gotten to know her partner long enough to see how worried he was underneath the whole tough façade. His arms were crossed, trying to mask how he was itching to wring his hands together, and she could see the residual trembling as he fought back the urge to tap his feet against the linoleum flooring.

“I could have my lungs taken out and still have enough air to fight you, Strand.” Nancy croaks, wincing when she hears how bad she sounds through all the mucus and dry throat, but TK doesn’t bat an eye. She follows him with her eyes as he tentatively closes the distance between them to sit by the chair at her bedside, obviously ignoring the warnings the hospital personnel gave about personal space.

“Are you looking to get infected?” Nancy raises an eyebrow, smiling when TK snorts. “Because I’m pretty sure I can make that happen.”

“I see you’re just going to be a pain in my neck both on shift and off shift, huh?” TK teases, the words said without an ounce of heat, and Nancy shrugs, grinning smugly.

“My lungs are dying, TK. I think I have complaining privileges.” She coughs to the side that TK is not currently occupying, the brutal hacking sound making her entire chest feel on fire as she gratefully accepts the spit tray offered to her along with the glass of water.

“Which is exactly why you are not coming back to work. Did you seriously think the doctors would discharge you like this?” TK lifts an eyebrow skeptically, running a gentle hand down her back as she tries to breathe in without coughing all the air back out again. When she feels no more incoming coughs, she straightens to look at him.

“I can flash my badge and get a discharge back home. Then I’ll just slap on a mask and go back to work. I didn’t break my legs, TK, I have pneumonia. I’m perfectly fine.” Nancy gripes, narrowing her eyes at TK’s scoff.

“You need to rest. Need I remind you why you’re in the hospital in the first place?” TK sighs, lifting his hands up before dropping them down on his lap. “You already had a cold before that call, and then you decided to leap off the side of a bridge like Prince Charming in that third Cinderella movie. Into the lake. Which was freezing, by the way.” TK shuddered, as if taken back to that scene, and Nancy held back a laugh because that would not help her coughing get any better.

“Oh, silly me. I should have dipped my toes in the water one-hundred feet up in the air to test the temperature before trying to save that little girl’s life. I’ll make sure to keep that in mind and grow longer legs in my next lifetime to do just that.” Nancy says drily, and she just smiles innocently as TK glares daggers at her.

“And you say I’m the impulsive one.”

“You literally jumped in right after me, so that argument’s invalid.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t catch pneumonia after, did I?”

They stare at each other blankly, before their lips twitch upwards at the same time as laughter fills up the room. Nancy tries to hold her own giggles back, but it was difficult when she had a partner that gave as good as he got, which made her want to strangle him half the time, and the rest of the time hug him and never let go.

“I still remember the double death glares from the captains,” Nancy manages to get out between their laughter with coughs mixed in between, and TK lifts a hand to cover his face, a wide grin peeking out from between his fingers.

“Little Amelia must have been so confused. I mean, there we were, soaked to the bone holding her in between us while our entire station just glares at us and planning the best way to murder us both.” TK snorts, and Nancy feels a new bout of laughter threatening to come out when she remembers the six pairs of eyes that just stared at them incredulously.

“You’re lucky Carlos wasn’t there. I’m surprised he hasn’t already been lugging around a portable doghouse for you to climb into next time this kind of thing happens.” Nancy snickers, laughing at the face TK makes at that.

“Oh, he chewed me out thoroughly when I got home. In between tucking in blankets and not letting me leave the couch in my homemade burrito, I couldn’t so much as go to the washroom without him glaring at me for even trying to get up.” TK rolls his eyes fondly, and Nancy feels her smile soften at the affection shining through every single one of his words.

“Love looks good on you, Strand.” Nancy nudges him lightly with an elbow, and receives a gentle squeeze on her arm. She knows she’s not going to like the next words that come out of TK’s mouth when his eyes suddenly sparkle mischievously.

“Speaking of love,” Nancy shoots him a glare at that, because she knows exactly where this conversation was going and that was not to describe what it was. “How’s that thing that we were discussing a few days ago going?” TK wiggles his eyebrows teasingly, and Nancy sighs in exasperation.

“It’s not going. Anywhere. We’re friends,” Nancy shrugs, looking down at the hospital linens, slowly picking at them with her hands. It was the truth, they were friends. So what if her insides feels a little weird when they were in a room together, it didn’t mean anything. “And she hasn’t spoken a single word to me since this happened.”

She let out a few quiet coughs, remembering how Marjan had hovered over them – over her at the scene, but then after she got admitted into the hospital, nothing. Not a peep. Not even a text or the occasional meme they send to each other over Instagram.

Maybe she had just been deluding herself the whole time.

Maybe her heart was slowly splitting into tiny pieces.

Asking for the moon was sometimes easier than wishing someone would stay.

TK falls silent next to her, and just when she tries to put on her best smile and change the subject, she feels a hand squeeze hers.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop. You and I both know Marjan wouldn’t give someone the radio silence treatment without a reason. And, she has the night off today.” TK trails off, the suggestion lingering in the air and Nancy sighs.

She just wants to forget.

“You’re right, I’m just a little-” Nancy cuts herself off, pursing her lips at the frenzied thoughts circling her mind.

“-Sick and just want to see the person who makes your heart feel all funny for a while?” TK proposes, and Nancy turns to shoot him a playful glare, ignoring the heat slowly seeping into her cheeks.

“Okay smartass, turn down the notch on cocky bastard a little, will you?” Nancy grins as TK laughs, and she feels a brief moment of satisfaction when he doesn’t move away from her swat to his shoulder. “Now, I know for a fact that you brought food with you. Give me my offering.”

With a small tsk and a quiet mutter of “of course, since you asked so nicely,” TK hands her a cloth bag. She slowly takes out a metal container along with a spoon wrapped neatly in paper towels, lifting the lid curiously. Her eyes widen in surprise at what’s inside, smiling at how pretty it looks.

“Tofu?”

“Tofu pudding,” TK adds, smiling. “Carlos has been into Chinese cuisine lately and found this off the internet. You usually eat it cold, but we thought warming it up a little might be better for you. You get your daily dose of protein while actually enjoying the food, it’s a win-win.”

Nancy picks up the spoon and dips it into the soft pudding, admiring how smoothly the spoon slides through. She lifts it up to her mouth, and although a little bland (though she couldn’t really eat any heavily seasoned food for a while anyway), it was delicious.

“If you don’t marry your boyfriend, I’ll do it for you.” Nancy takes another bite of the soothing goodness, smiling around her mouthful when TK blushes.

“High praise, I’ll keep that in mind.” TK chuckles, and Nancy grins before taking another bite, loving how easy it was to swallow.

Then, another thought crosses her mind.

“Wait, how did you get in here, anyway? I thought they were barring visitors.” Nancy narrows her eyes at TK suspiciously, wondering how the nurses hadn’t come in to kick him out yet. TK just smirks, leaning back against the chair and crossing a leg over the other.

“You clearly don’t know me very well if you think that’s going to stop me.”

Nancy hums, though she really couldn’t complain. He brought her food, after all.

“Fair point.”

Nights were the worst.

She has been a paramedic for close to seven years, and still, she could never stop being offended by her own body betraying her at the most crucial time of the day when she needed to rest without wanting to tear her lungs out and dunk them in an ice bath.

Sighing to give into her fate of a sleepless night yet again, she opens her eyes slowly, blinking against the dim lighting of her secluded room. Picking up her phone, she lets her eyes adjust to the change in brightness before a small smile slowly makes its way on her lips at the cute Buttercup video Mateo sent her a little earlier.

“Can’t sleep?”

Nancy jumps, a muffled shout coming out followed with a series of long coughs, making her wince.

Ugh, even the coughs at night were worse.

“Whoa, hey, easy. Sorry.” A warm hand rubbed her back in soothing circles, much like what TK had done earlier, but these hands left a lingering heat that didn’t disappear when they retracted hesitatingly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Marjan repeats quietly, her brown eyes stretched wide as she looks at her worriedly, and Nancy tries to smile, waving her off.

“It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting anyone.” Nancy lets out another cough before clearing her throat, gratefully accepting the water Marjan offers her. She takes a few sips, cringing at how her throat burns with each swallow.

The burn provides a welcome distraction from how Marjan was currently standing beside her hospital bed, wearing a simple green long-sleeved turtleneck and matching hijab, with a soft smile that brightened every single room she walked into.

She suddenly felt self-conscious about her own appearance, no doubt sporting dark eye-bags from the lack of sleep and looking paler than a ghost from not eating much other than the food TK or Captain Vega brought in for her. Paul had also swung by a few times, along with the other members of the 126 but she didn’t have the heart to tell them and their openly kind expressions that she couldn’t really stomach a lot right now. That, and how ingesting anything, including water, felt like swallowing porcupine quills.

Still, the urge to hide behind her hair was strong.

“How did you even get in here?” Nancy asks instead, frowning when she remembered that visiting hours were long over, and yet, here Marjan was.

She noticed Marjan shifting nervously, and it was definitely something new. She wasn’t sure she’s ever seen Marjan being awkward or nervous, and certainly not around her.

“TK pulled some strings. And I may have had a little…conversation with the nurses.” Marjan winced a little, and Nancy couldn’t help quirking her lips up in a small smile.

“Conversation, huh?” She hums absently, biting back a laugh at Marjan’s nervous glances back at the nurse’s station. “Is that what you called the ripping-into you gave the tattoo artists?” She couldn’t help tease, her smile widening at the spots of colour spreading across Marjan’s cheeks.

“Well it definitely seems like you’re feeling a little better.” Marjan sighs in fond exasperation, the awkwardness dissipating between them, and Nancy follows her figure as she sits down tentatively on the chair beside her.

“Do firefighters just have no concept of ‘I’m infectious?’ Aren’t you also a qualified medic?” Nancy asks playfully, her heart doing a little jump at Marjan’s wide grin.

“In sickness and in health,” Marjan shrugs, as if she hadn’t just quoted wedding vows at her, and Nancy just stares at her blankly. Marjan lifts her gaze, and she fidgets slightly when she feels those eyes staring straight through her.

“I’ve never seen you with your hair down,” Marjan comments quietly, and Nancy starts, lifting a hand self-consciously to run her fingers through it. “It’s usually always in a bun or a ponytail. You look…different.”

Okay, that fills her with mild panic.

“I can always tie it back up? My mother always hated how long I would let my hair grow, so I always have a hair tie ready-”

A hand grasps her wrist gently before she can tug the hair tie off her wrist, and she looks up to see Marjan looking at her warmly.

“It’s a good different.” Nancy lets out a small puff of air at that, slowly lowering her hands back onto the thin covering. She couldn’t help but notice Marjan still not letting go of her wrist. Something conflicting passed by her expression, and Nancy noticed that she kept on parting her lips to say something before holding back.

Leaning back slowly against the ridiculous number of pillows, turning her head to clear her vision of a few loose strands of hair, Nancy waited.

“I’m sorry.”

Okay, that was something she hadn’t been expecting.

She snaps her head up, turning to look at Marjan in surprise.

Why was she apologizing?

“…for what?” Nancy asks cautiously, frowning when Marjan shifts her hand to squeeze her arm. Her other hand is pinching on the edges of her clothes, and Nancy wonders if it’s a nervous tick.

There’s a sharp laugh, though it was lacking all humour that cuts through the quietness of the room, and Nancy wants to smooth out the creases between her eyebrows as she scowls sadly.

“I gave you the silent treatment. I ignored you when– I just, I’m sorry.” Nancy feels her shoulders relaxing, and suddenly, she wants nothing more than to hug the woman looking like the human version of a kicked puppy beside her.

“But you came,” Nancy says softly, waiting until Marjan looks up before continuing. “You still came, and that’s all that matters.” In a sudden burst of courage, she covers the hand that’s on her arm with her own, smiling at the look of surprise that greets her.

Marjan blinks at her, then down at their hands. With a small smile, she squeezes hers.

And Nancy lets her.

“You know,” Marjan starts, her eyes looking a little distant as if she was re-living a memory. “When you just leaped off the side of the bridge without a second thought, the first thing I felt wasn’t fear.”

Nancy feels her heart drop to her stomach at the look of sheer terror resonating in her eyes, but Marjan still doesn’t look up fully.

“Instead, it was a strong pull, screaming at me to jump in after you, a never-ending urge to make sure you were safe,” Marjan says lowly, squeezing their hands tighter. “So, when I couldn’t do that, when Paul had to physically shove me back, that was when the fear hit.”

Nancy suddenly couldn’t feel the burning pain in her throat. She couldn’t feel the constant ache in her chest, or the little prickles of pain every time she breathed.

No, she couldn’t feel anything other than the warmth of Marjan’s hand in hers, and how hard she was squeezing it.

“There was- there was a moment where I wondered if I would ever see either of you again,” Marjan’s breath hitches at the end, and Nancy feels her own heart break at the way her eyes shine brightly.

“I have so much I want to know about you,” Her heart stuttered at the three words, said without an ounce of hesitation. When Marjan looks up at her with shining eyes, she forces back the urge to wipe away the tears that hadn’t fallen.

“I’m here. And I’m safe. A little battered and bruised, but I’ll be just fine.” Nancy whispers, smiling reassuringly, and feels lighter when Marjan smiles back, albeit a little weakly.

Still, it was a genuine smile nonetheless, and there was nothing Nancy enjoyed more in the world than to witness Marjan’s brilliant smile every day.

“Besides, I’ve already been pushing the doctors to release me already.” Nancy shrugs, ignoring the glare immediately sent her way.

“You need to rest,” Marjan shoots back without a beat, and Nancy rolls her eyes.

“First Strand, now you? I’m fine.” Nancy scowls, though the little sniffle she lets out after doesn’t really help her case. Still, she glares up at the female firefighter in front of her, daring her to comment on it.

They’re locked into one of their usual staring contests, where their eyes speak more than any words they could say. Nancy was determined to not be the one who broke this time, but the piercing look of seriousness was starting to make her squirm.

Marjan finally blinked, making her feel a brief sense of victory before it quickly disappeared when she says, “You don’t need to push yourself so hard all the time.”

Nancy scowls.

Pushing herself, huh?

She thinks back to her years in college, to all the people who didn’t believe. To her parents, who had tried to be encouraging, but she could still see the tiny flickers of doubt. After all, a paramedic? Long hours, average pay, and no account for the danger?

She knows there were many other reasons that she tried her best to shove into the deepest recesses of her mind, but she had gotten where she was today by working hard, without once looking back.

Sitting back from a job she’s known and wanted her entire life didn’t feel right, even when she could barely take in a breath without coughing up her lungs or ingest anything other than water.

There’s another squeeze of her hand, and Nancy is shaken out of her thoughts as a pair of eyes watch her carefully.

“We all see you,” Marjan says softly, and Nancy swallows past the pain. “We all love you, Nancy, and we just want you to feel better before you hurt yourself even worse.”

In the dim lighting of the room they were in, surrounded by the smell of sickness and the low humming of the heater, Nancy suddenly feels lighter.

She squeezes the hand she hadn’t let go of, a quiet chuckle breaking free.

“You all love me, huh?” She couldn’t help tease, but instead of flushed cheeks and the anticipated stuttering, Marjan just looks at her with resolution in her eyes.

“Without a doubt.”

Without a doubt.

#911 lone star fic #Nancy and TK friendship #Nancy and Marjan friendship #911lsangstweek #Lol can be read as Nancy/Marjan #Hints of feelings from Nancy

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atths--twice · 4 years

Text

Christmas Eve, 1994

After being abducted and insisting she is fine, a month in quarantine proves that may not be entirely true. It has also been a year since her father passed away. How will Scully and her family spend the day? Will Mulder be included?

I love Firewalker, it's one of my favorite episodes. I rewatched it recently and I love episode where they are stranded and watching out for each other. Mulder is much more protective of Scully in this episode and I love it. Some might see it as him being too pushy or overbearing, but I don't. He missed her and worried about her and he doesn't want her to get hurt. Not after she had been gone for so long and he had no idea if he would ever see her again. His worry for her is incredibly sweet in my opinion.

So, I started to think about what happened during their month long quarantine and after they came home. They would have been home about mid December with Christmas just around the corner. What kind of plans were made in the Scully family? It intrigued me and thus this story began to emerge.

I hope you enjoy! Happy Holidays!

December 15, 1994

Scully sighed as she entered her apartment, exhausted after the flight home. The air felt thick and stale as she stood and looked around, the emptiness it had experienced during their month in quarantine nearly tangible.

With a groan, she walked to the refrigerator, sure she was going to find various forms of mold growing inside of it. Opening the door, she saw it was nearly empty and she frowned before she smiled slightly.

Her mother must have come by, knowing the length of time they would be away. Thankful she had done so, she sighed and closed the refrigerator. Rolling her neck as she headed to the bathroom, intent on taking a long soak in the tub, her phone rang and she groaned.

Hoping it was not Mulder calling with some rogue case he had found, considering they had been given a week off, citing a month long quarantine where they had been poked and prodded daily, as a sufficient excuse to give them a chance to relax.

“Hello?” she said, closing her eyes and crossing her fingers.

“Dana! You’re home! I was going to leave you a message on your machine, but I’m so glad to hear you’re home.” She smiled at the happiness she heard in her mother’s voice.

“Just got home actually, not more than ten minutes ago. Your mother senses must have been activated.” Her mother laughed and Scully walked down the hall to start the bath, letting the tub fill as they continued to speak.

“Thank you for taking care of things here,” Scully said, pouring some lavender bubble bath into the warm water. Breathing in deeply, she sighed as the scent washed over her.

“Of course, honey. Umm, the reason I was going to leave you a message was about Christmas. I know you’ve just gotten back, but it’s only a few days away. I wanted to let you know Bill and Tara won’t be here as he had hoped, but Missy will be and Charlie. He has a flight on Christmas Day, but he will be here Christmas Eve. I thought… as it’s been a year since we lost your dad… it would be nice to have, if not everyone, as many as we can home this year.”

“Yeah,” Scully said softly, closing her eyes as she thought of her dad, remembering the way he behaved at Christmas, tolerating it all with a shake of his head and a small smile on his face.

“I just… I’d hoped you’d be home.”

“I’m here,” she whispered, opening her eyes and watching the bubbles rising in the tub.

“You aren’t leaving again?”

“God, I hope not.” Her mother hummed and she smiled. “No, we’re off for a few days. Time off for good behavior it seems.” This time her mother was silent and Scully sighed quietly.

“So everyone who’s in town will be there?” she asked, hoping to break the tension that had appeared.

“Yes. It’ll be good, I think.”

“I agree, Mom. What time?”

“7:30 for dinner on Christmas Eve. Oh, and please ask Fox to join us.”

__________________

Scully stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in a large towel, as the water gurgled loudly down the drain. She felt flushed, her toes and fingers pruney, her hair wet and dripping down her back.

Grabbing another towel, she wrapped it around her hair, and wiped the steam from the bathroom mirror. Shaking her head as she looked at her reflection, she let out an exasperated breath.

Please ask Fox to join us.

Her mother’s words had been playing on repeat since she had hung up the phone. She knew she and Mulder had formed a bond when she was missing, her mother telling her how much it had affected him when she was gone. How he had looked every time she saw him: his disheveled appearance, the circles under his eyes, his unanimated expressions.

“He was lost, Dana,” her mother had said and Scully shook her head, not wanting to hear it.

Not after she had no memory of what did happen. And especially not after the nightmares had begun; the thought of the faceless men in the white room, a drill of some kind coming toward her, voices she could not understand, and the fear she felt at being unable to move.

She had them more while they had been in quarantine, perhaps the constant medical attention bringing them closer to the surface.

The first night it had happened, when she had woken up soaked in sweat, tears on her face, and her breathing erratic, her door had burst open and Mulder was there, the light from the hall all that filled her darkened room.

“Are you… are you okay? I heard screaming…” He had stood in the doorway, rumpled from sleep, as though unsure if he should enter any further.

“I… I don’t know. No, I… I’m fine,” she had lied and wiped at her face, turning away from him, her heart still racing.

“Like hell. You’re not fine.” She had turned her head, ready to yell at him, tell him she was perfectly capable of knowing how she felt, when the look on his face had stopped her.

He had looked exhausted and as she stared, she realized he had looked that way since before they ever came to the goddamn volcano. He had not wanted her to go, insisting she take more time off, but she had insisted more, telling him she needed to work.

During the time there, he had been overprotective and they both knew it. She understood, she did, but it had also pissed her off immensely. She could do her job and he knew that. She knew he knew that, yet it still had not stopped him from hovering or insisting she stay back and out of danger.

But as he had stood in the doorway of her room, his worry for her finally something she was ready to truly see, she had felt the anger drain out of her.

“It was a bad dream, that’s all,” she had said quietly.

“You’re okay?” She had nodded and he had run his hand through his hair, nodding as he reached for the door handle. “Okay. Good night then.”

“Wait. Would… could you… would you mind staying for a bit? Just…” She had watched the emotions cross his face and she sighed. “You don’t have to… I… I’m fine now.”

“I can stay,” he had said, letting the door close and sitting in the lone chair in the room. He had smiled slightly at her as she adjusted her pillows and laid down.

The room had been silent until he started talking about something inane, her eyes closing as she had fallen asleep to the sound of his voice.

During the month they had spent there, he had come to her room a total of ten times, when her nightmares had woken him and he wanted to be sure she was okay. Eventually he had foregone the chair, and instead laid beside her. They did not touch, but his voice was like a balm, calming her and allowing her to sleep peacefully.

Now though, they were home, and she knew they would not speak of it again. Even though they both knew how much they needed the other, this would be something that remained known, but unspoken.

Changing into her pajamas, she dried her hair, had a cup of tea and went to bed, her body and mind exhausted.

___________________

December 16, 1994

The next day she cleaned her entire apartment. She did laundry, cleaned the bathroom and kitchen, dusted and vacuumed, finding peace in creating a clean environment.

When she had finished, she went shopping, buying enough groceries for the week, knowing for certain she would be home for at least that amount of time.

She made a salad and a chicken breast for dinner, drinking a glass of red wine as she did. Glancing at the phone, she realized that she had not heard from Mulder all day.

It was not unheard of, especially considering they had just spent a month together, day in and day out, but it still felt odd. Sighing as she stared at the phone, both wishing it would and praying it did not ring, she finished her glass of wine and cleaned up the kitchen.

_____________________

December 17, 1994

In the morning, she called Ellen, who was delighted to hear from her, asking her many questions and inquiring after Mulder.

“How’s that “not jerk” partner of yours?” Ellen teased and Scully smiled, remembering the day so long ago when she had thought that way about Mulder; his stubbornness and single minded drive, overwhelming at times.

“He’s good,” she answered simply, not divulging any details.

“Still not a jerk?”

“Definitely not.”

“That’s good.”

“Hmm.”

Plans were made for lunch the next day and Scully went to bed early, her thoughts on why once again she had not heard from Mulder.

____________________

December 18, 1994

“So then I said, ‘well I’m not cleaning it up,’” Ellen said with a chuckle and the other women laughed. Scully forced a smile, her hands gripping her napkin.

When Ellen suggested lunch, Scully had not anticipated other women joining them. She did not know them and their presence had made her uncomfortable. She had been good at this once before, small talk and even gossip.

But now…

It felt commonplace and to be honest, a bit silly. She dealt in darkness and conspiracies, men who killed to protect government secrets. Listening to stories of household problems, kids who did not listen, or husbands who played too much golf, felt ridiculous and she had to fight rolling her eyes.

“I was abducted!” she wanted to yell, to see their faces when she said it. To have the table fall silent, not to continue the discussion about her abduction, but to shut them all up.

“That was fun, Dana. We need to do this more often. I know you’re busy, but we need to see each other more often,” Ellen said, hugging Dana goodbye a bit later.

“Yes, we do.” She hugged her back and closed her eyes, knowing she would not be calling, their lives far too different.

Driving away from the restaurant, she made a left instead of a right and wound up at Mulder’s apartment. Sitting in her car, she heard her mother’s words again, and she closed her eyes.

Please ask Fox to join us.

Turning off the car, she stepped out and locked the doors. Walking through his lobby, her heart began to race, not knowing why.

You’re being an idiot, she admonished herself as she stepped into the elevator. What in the hell is there to be nervous about? She shook her head and sighed as the elevator began to rise.

Clearing her throat, she knocked on his door and waited. Her fingers traced over his apartment key on her key ring that he had given her months ago, deciding if she should use it, when she heard him moving around inside. She swallowed as she stepped back and put both hands in her pockets.

“Hey,” he said, a look of surprise on his face. “I thought you were the Chinese food I ordered.”

“Sorry, no.” She smiled and he opened the door wider. She stepped in, under his arm, and stopped in the dining room, turning to look at him.

“Figured you would have been tired of seeing my ugly mug,” he teased as he closed the door. She smiled slightly and looked down. “You okay?” She nodded and raised her head. His eyes searched hers and she sighed.

“I had lunch today with some old friends. Well… an old friend who invited others to join us. I didn’t know them and…” She sighed again, shrugging her shoulders.

“You didn’t like them?”

“I don’t know. I…”

A knock sounded at the door and they both jumped. He put up a finger and she nodded as he opened the door and paid the delivery man. Closing the door again, he set the bag of food on the table and looked at her.

“Can I interest you in some egg rolls?” he asked and she shook her head. “Right, you’ve just come from lunch.” He stared at her and she took a deep breath.

“I should get going. Let you eat.”

“It’s Chinese food, it’ll keep. Always better cold anyway.”

“So you always say.” He smiled and she let out a breath. “I just felt so disconnected from them.” He nodded she shook her head. “It’s been so long since I’ve done anything with Ellen, or anyone really, I felt out of place.”

“Hmm,” he hummed with another nod.

“I don’t want to talk about what happened to me. I don’t remember it. Or… maybe I do but I don’t want to… I don’t know.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it…”

“But you want them to know.” She looked up at him and let out a deep breath.

“Yes and no. It just felt mundane talking about kids and husbands who golf too much while I…” She shrugged and he nodded.

“Believe me, I understand.”

“I know you do.” She smiled and he nodded. “I don’t want to constantly have it on my mind, but how can I not?”

“Have you had any nightmares?” he asked quietly and she shook her head. “That’s good.”

“Yeah.” She shrugged and sighed. “Especially since I no longer have anyone around to bore me back to sleep.”

“Hmm.” He chuckled softly with a nod and she smiled.

“I should go. Let you eat.”

“You could stay. Just me here… it gets kinda quiet.”

“No, I should go.” He nodded and she sighed, walking towards the door, wanting to stay but knowing it was best if she left.

“Sure I can’t tempt you with some egg rolls?”

“Maybe next time.” She looked back at him, her hand on the doorknob. “Oh, my mother has extended an invitation for you to join us for dinner on Christmas Eve.” He stared at her and opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“Why?” he asked after a few seconds.

“Because it’s Christmas and she’s Maggie Scully.” She smiled and he shook his head.

“I don’t think I should. It’s a year since your father died and I… it should just be family.” An odd look crossed his face that she could not decipher, before he sighed and closed his eyes. “What time?”

“Oh… that was easier than I thought it would be,” she said in surprise.

“Yeah, well…” He shrugged and she nodded.

“7:30 at my mom’s house. I’ll write down the directions-” She started to step towards him, but he stopped her with a shake of his head.

“I know how to get there,” he said quietly and she froze. Of course he did. How many trips had he made during her absence?

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you then,” she whispered and he nodded, unable to meet her eyes.

She walked out and heard the lock clicking as she walked down the hall. As she stepped in the elevator, she suddenly felt like weeping. Covering her mouth, the doors thankfully closed before the sound of her sobs could echo down the hall.

_____________________

After that meeting, they did not speak nor see each other again. Scully spent the next few days buying and wrapping gifts, relaxing, and not thinking about her abduction.

Or at least trying not to do so.

She had a few nightmares, waking up shaking and wanting to call him, but knowing she could not. He would accept her phone call, doing whatever she asked, but she could not continue to rely on him that way; she had to do it on her own.

On Christmas Eve, she put on a new dress, put her hair up and added a pair of pearl earrings her father had given her when she graduated from college. A small spritz of perfume and she looked at her reflection, checking that she was ready. Touching her earrings, she sighed.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered and left the bathroom.

The drive over to her mother’s was spent in silence, thinking about her father and how much she missed him. Missed the way he would tell a joke and laugh before he even got to the punchline. His no nonsense attitude, but the smile that came behind it. The strict rules he adhered to, which helped shape and mold the person she had become.

“I miss you, Dad,” she said softly, turning down her mother’s street.

The house was lit up, a tree in the window, the white lights shining brightly. As she walked up to the door, she wondered who had decorated outside, it looked professional.

“Dana! Oh, honey, it’s so good to see you.” Her mother held her tightly, Scully hugging her back, taking a deep breath. It smelled of spices and she closed her eyes at the familiar Christmas scent. “You’re early.”

“I thought I’d see if you needed any help.” Her mother pulled back, holding onto her upper arms as she nodded.

Half an hour later, everything was ready and people began to arrive. There were a few people from church there, people her father had held in high esteem. Charlie came in to cheers and applause. He grinned and hugged them all as Missy walked in, a serene smile on her face.

As happy as she was to see them all, Scully kept an eye on the door, wondering when Mulder would arrive, wanting to be there when he did. She did not want him to be accosted and forced to make small talk.

“He’s running a little late.”

“What?” Scully asked, looking at her mother with a frown.

“Fox. He said he would be a few minutes late.”

“When did he tell you that?” She looked at her mother, confusion on her face.

“He called earlier today and said he would be running late as he had an errand to run.”

“He called you? He has your num-“ But of course he did. Why was she surprised?

“He’ll be here.” Her mother patted her arm and smiled as she walked away.

“Yeah, Dana. He’ll be here,” Missy teased, handing Scully a tumbler glass of whiskey. They clinked their glasses and she tried not to watch the door, not wanting to hear her sister’s gloating tone.

At almost 8:00, the doorbell rang and her mother walked over to answer it. Scully heard Mulder’s low murmur and her mother’s soft laugh, and then he was in the room, his eyes finding hers immediately.

Her stomach did a flip flop and she shook her head, walking over to him as she mentally rolled her eyes at her own ridiculousness.

“Hey. Sorry I was late. I was…” He stopped, looking her up and down. “Wow… you look…”

“Hello, Fox. Sorry... Mulder.” Missy said and they both turned to look at her.

“Melissa. It’s nice to see you again.” He cleared his throat and Missy looked at Scully, raising her eyebrows.

“Would you like a drink?” Missy asked and he shook his head.

“No, I’m fine.” He looked at Scully as Missy walked away. She smiled at him and he did the same. “Sorry I was late.”

“It’s okay.” Without thinking, she reached up and smoothed his tie, the knot slightly askew. When she realized what she was doing, she dropped her hand, her cheeks burning.

“Thanks,” he said softly, touching his tie and she nodded. “What are you drinking?”

“Whiskey. You want some?” She offered her glass and he took it, taking a sip. He made a face and handed it back to her.

“No. That’s godawful. Aack.” She laughed as she took a sip, having no such reaction.

“Beautiful,” he said quietly and she frowned. “I was going to say ‘beautiful.’” She continued to frown until she drew in a deep breath and let it out as she understood what he meant.

“It’s a new dress.” She shrugged, as though implying that was all it was, her mouth feeling dry as her heart began to race.

“Mm-hmm.” He nodded as her mother called everyone to dinner. He gestured for her to go first, his hand landing on the small of her back as she did, his fingers pressing gently and then disappearing.

The meal was delicious, with a toast to her father given which caused nearly everyone to tear up. Missy sniffled beside her and Scully reached for her hand, squeezing it gently.

After they ate, people sat around the table, talking about their families, friends, and plans for the new year. Mulder poured some wine into his glass and pushed it toward Scully, his arm going around and resting on the back of her chair.

As the talk turned to what had happened during the past year, Scully felt his thumb rub softly against her back, nearly imperceptible. She did not even notice how her breathing had increased until she felt his touch. Glancing at him, he kept his eyes on the person speaking, not looking her way.

Never had she been more grateful to have someone like him beside her. Someone who understood how it felt to be an outsider, while others around you carried on without a care.

His right hand was on the table and as she reached for the glass of wine, she ghosted her fingertips across his, silently thanking him. His thumb increased its pressure on her back for a second and then his touch was gone, though his arm remained on the chair.

When they moved into the living room, gifts were handed out to everyone, even Mulder, who seemed genuinely surprised by it. He held it in his lap, not opening it as everyone laughed and ripped off the ribbons and colorful paper.

“I didn’t bring a gift for everyone,” he whispered beside her and she smiled, laying the red ribbon on the sofa.

“Nor did you have to,” she said, looking at him. “My mother is my mother. This is how she says thank you. Open your gift.”

“Thank you for what?” he asked, looking down at the present lying on his lap. She said nothing and he raised his head, staring into her eyes. Neither of them said anything, but she knew he understood when he nodded, his hand brushing her knee in the pretense of moving the ribbon, and she shivered.

Laughter and thanks filled the air, people holding up their gifts for the others to see. Her mother smiled, her eyes sparkling with tears as she nodded, accepting their thanks.

Scully watched Mulder open his gift and smiled when she saw a tie and a pair of gloves. He took them out and tried them on, humming his appreciation.

“That’s the nicest looking tie you own,” she teased and he smiled with a nod, setting down the gloves and picking up the tie.

“I think you may be right.”

“Oh, I know I am.” He laughed and looked at her as she smiled.

“Do they fit alright?” Her mother stood by the sofa, smiling nervously, pointing at the gloves.

“They do, thank you, Mrs. Scully. I fear my gift wasn’t quite up to scratch.”

“No, Fox. It was perfect.” She rubbed his shoulder and walked away to speak to Charlie.

“What did you give her? I didn’t see her open anything.” He smiled and said nothing. “Mulder?”

“I gave her a Christmas Cactus. They don’t only bloom at Christmas, but I thought…. for your father and… you…” He shrugged, his leg bouncing. “I tried to find one but couldn’t until today. That’s why I was late, I found a nursery that would stay open, but it was farther than I had planned.” He shrugged and she stared at him.

“Mulder…” He looked at her and she sighed, not sure how to say what she was feeling. Nodding, he put the tie back in the box and glanced at her again. She smiled and found his hand, squeezing and letting go.

When he left, she walked with him to his car, shivering in the cold night air, despite the warmth of her coat.

“Well, I had a good time,” he stated, as though surprised, as he set his gift in the car and turned to look at her.

“Surprising, I know, considering there were no aliens or volcanic life forms.” He smiled as she raised her eyebrows and put her hands in her pockets.

“Not what I meant, but…”

“What did you mean? What were you expecting to happen?”

“Nothing to happen, per se, it’s just… I’m not family, nor exactly friendly with anyone, save you, and with your father’s anniversary, it just didn’t feel right.” He shrugged and she tilted her head, digesting his words.

“But you’re here and you agreed to be rather quickly when I asked you. You never really explained why.” He sighed and looked at the house, rubbing a hand across his mouth.

“Because of your mother.”

“How do you mean?” she asked, curious to hear his answer.

“I could say because I like her, she’s a kind person, but…”

“What?” He sighed again and put his hands in his pockets.

“When you were in the hospital, after you’d been… returned,” he said, closing his eyes. “The doctor told your mother and I about your living will, which I already knew about but never expected to have to think about so soon. When you fell below the criteria… the hospital had to abide by your decisions.”

Tears filled her eyes, imagining her mother in that situation and how she must have felt, but knowing her decisions had been right.

“It’s better to be prepared and have a plan, instead of forcing a family member to be the one to do it. To lay that guilt upon them.”

“And I agreed with you when I signed as your witness,” he said, opening his eyes. “I still feel the same way, but… seeing it in black and white and written down on paper, is different than experiencing it as you were lying there in a coma.” She nodded, wiping her cheeks, her tears warm, but cheeks cold.

“When they were walking out of the room to begin removing you from the respirator and the other life saving devices, your mother said you and I had a friendship built on respect and that while the moment was for family, I could join them if I wanted.”

He stared at her and she began to cry, unable to hold back the tears, as she understood what had made him agree to join them for dinner tonight. He stepped forward and pulled her close, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist, burying her face in his coat. Holding her as she cried, he murmured softly, his hands rubbing slowly up and down her back.

Pulling from him, she wiped her face, taking deep breaths as she did, trying to regain calm. She looked up at him and he smiled softly, his eyes searching her face, nodding as he seemed to receive the answer he was seeking.

A snowflake suddenly landed in his hair and she looked up as more began to fall. She laughed as she met his eyes again., watching the snow falling onto him, his hair filling with white flakes.

“I think you’d better get inside before you become a snowman… snow woman? Lady?” He furrowed his brow and she laughed.

But then her breath caught when, just as he had last year, he cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away a snowflake. His hand was warm, his touch soft and gentle.

“Merry Christmas, Dana,” he whispered, and she closed her eyes briefly, his thumb stroking her cheekbone and moving down to her chin, his fingers on her neck.

“Merry Christmas, Mulder,” she whispered back, opening her eyes and staring at him. His eyes dropped to her lips and her heart fluttered, her hands coming up to his chest, almost of their own accord.

He began to lean in closer, when loud laughter erupted from her mother’s open door and echoed in the quiet of the night. Her hands dropped down as she pushed off of his chest, his hand moving from her cheek. He cleared his throat as the people leaving the party exclaimed over the falling snow.

“Well…” he said, stepping back and dropping his eyes.

“Be careful driving home,” she said and he nodded, raising his eyes to hers. She smiled with a nod and he let out a breath.

“You get inside, snow woman. It’s starting to come down harder. Don’t want you to catch a cold.” He held her gaze and she heard the words he was not saying.

“Okay.” She stepped back and made to walk toward the house when she turned around and stepped closer to him.

Reaching up on tiptoes, she kissed his cheek, the cold of the snowflakes falling contrasting with the warmth of his skin.

“Merry Christmas, Mulder,” she whispered again as she pulled back. He nodded with a small smile and she smiled back.

“Get in where it’s warm. I’ll see you in a couple of days.” She nodded and walked to the porch, turning around to watch him leave.

Waving goodbye, she stepped inside the house, hung up her coat, and went into the bathroom.

Fixing her hair, she smiled at the pink in her cheeks, knowing it was not only from the chill of the night.

No, it was from the man who chased monsters, believed in aliens, saw conspiracies in nearly everything, and had earned family status as a result of the care and devotion he had shown to her and her mother during her absence.

The one who, despite her very best efforts, had taken up residence in her heart and would be impossible to evict.

Not without taking part of her heart away with him.

#Post One Breath #Post Firewalker #Abduction #Quarantine #Nightmares #Lunch #Worry #Discussions #Understanding #Christmas Eve #Dinner #Family #Gift Giving #Drinking #Cold Weather #Snow

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moonflowerlesbians · 4 years

Note

Or #22 for Dani & Jamie please !

Many apologies for this taking a hot minute. I started it to help with writers block and then it gave me more. Whoops. Also included here, prompt #35 from another anon.

This probably isn’t what you had in mind, but not to worry, angst is coming in another prompt.

You can also read this and my other prompt-fills here.

~~~

Drunk Jamie is a sight to behold.

It’s a rare and beautiful thing that Dani is sure to treasure on the infrequent occasions Jamie allows herself to fall and trusts Dani enough to catch her. To see Jamie inebriated is sacred, or, at least, Dani thinks so. Because she is the only one who’s seen Jamie drunk, face flushed and carefree laughter spilling from her lips. She’s vulnerable here, alcohol having eroded the rings of fearsome walls she’s built around her life, trusting Dani to protect her from any threats. She’s softer, more relaxed.

It’s a good look on her, Dani thinks.

They’re in the back room of The Leafling, reclining, legs propped up, on the ratty sofa they found at the second-hand store not three weeks prior. The shop is quiet, the doors locked and the lights shut off. The plants sit in baskets and pots and displays placed perfectly to suit their needs. Empty drink trays decorate the countertop, a problem for tomorrow.

“You did it.” Dani stares at the ceiling, her heart warm. Jamie’s back is pressed comfortably against her front, and Dani twirls a strand of brown hair between her fingers as crickets chirp outside. The world is at peace.

“We did,” Jamie hums. “We bloody did it. Business owners, the both of us.” She barks a laugh and nuzzles her head into Dani’s collarbone.

They’d just concluded a soft opening party for the shop. Small business owners and potential clients had wandered racks of Jamie’s precious plantlings as the woman herself flitted nervously on the outskirts to avoid the shower of compliments. Dani had done most of the talking, offering up hors d’oeuvres and baked goods. As it turned out, despite her hot drink deficiency, she’s a rather decent baker.

“Oh, these are just lovely!” Mrs. Windham from the bookstore down the way, had said, gushing over a bouquet of hydrangeas.

“All Jamie,” Dani had proclaimed proudly.

“Well, she has quite the gift.”

“Doesn’t she?” Jamie had met her eye from across the room, sipping on her second -- or third -- glass of champagne, and offered a small smile.

Dani doesn’t begrudge her the drinks. Jamie has never been much of a people person, and who is Dani to judge if alcohol makes socialising just a bit less nerve-wracking? Besides, a buzzed Jamie is quite endearing, if Dani’s being honest.

This is the part where Dani shines, in any case. Making connections comes naturally to her, or, at least, more naturally than it does for Jamie. Being a teacher, she had to be good at it. She always had a knack for cracking the toughest students, much to the bewilderment of her colleagues.

Half the time, the kid was just lonely. Needed someone to talk to. Dani could relate.

It’s a skill that’s served her well in life and in her relationships.

Jamie stirs, and Dani wrinkles her nose, spluttering as brunette curls invade her mouth.

“Hey, easy there-” she finds herself silenced by a bruising kiss. “Um,” she blinks up at Jamie, who’s looking down at her with a dopey smile, “hello?”

“Why’re you dressed like that?” Jamie drawls.

Dani surveys her outfit, though her investigation lacks scope on account of her incredibly attractive girlfriend straddling her lap. “Um. Does that mean it looks good, or should I change?”

Jamie avoids the question. “I’m rather fond of you, you know.” Her breath smells of cheap champagne.

“It’d be kind of awkward if you weren’t. We’re in pretty deep, you know,” Dani mimics, and Jamie’s faces scrunches in disapproval.

“That was bad. That was bloody awful, Poppins.” Jamie rolls off her to lean against the opposite arm of the chair, and Dani finds herself missing the weight. It’s nice feeling safe enough to have someone so close that even inches of separation are a loss.

“You never answered the question.”

Jamie hums. “You never answered mine.”

“You’re cocky when you’ve been drinking, you know that?”

“And you’re right beautiful all the time.”

Dani pauses mid-retort, her mouth open slightly. Jamie stares at her from across the couch, that damn cheeky smirk on her face.

“Quite alright there, Poppins?” Her voice is just above a whisper, sultry and mischievous. Leaning in, “Look a little flushed.”

“I...you…”

Jamie studies her fingernails. “Out with it, darling. Haven’t got all night.”

“I...I’m fond of you, too.” Dani manages. “Even when you’re lying.”

Jamie feigns outrage, hand coming up to clasp her chest. “Never lied a day in my life. ‘Specially not to my favorite person in the bleedin’ world, who also happens to be the most lovely woman I ever laid eyes on.” She runs her hands up Dani’s calves.

Dani scoffs, gently shoving her off. “‘Never lied’ my backside, but I’ll let it slide just this once, and only because you’re knackered.”

“Am not,” Jamie replies petulantly, then promptly yawns. She freezes. Dani raises an eyebrow. “Christ, betrayed by my own fucking body. Knew I never liked you,” she says to her stomach for no discernable reason. “Gone and ruined my whole plan.”

“Your plan?”

“Meant to woo you.”

“I’m sorry,” Dani laughs, “that was your attempt at being sexy?”

“Oi,” Jamie pouts, “thought I was doing a marvelous job, thank you very much. You’d’ve been properly smitten. Irresistible, I am.”

“Yes, right, of course,” Dani coughs, “consider me thoroughly wooed.”

“Aha! See that, ladies and gents? That’s how it’s done.” She gestures around the empty back room to her invisible audience, which Dani assumes is giving a standing ovation. She joins in, her solo bout of applause echoing too loudly in the space.

“Hey, Casanova. This plan of yours have an endgame?”

Jamie cuts her sweeping bow short. “‘Course. Can’t rile you up with nowhere to go. No fun in that.”

“And your goal was…” Dani prompts, sensing a trend. “To flirt me into bed with you?”

“Forgive me for wanting to romance my business partner to celebrate our smashing success.”

“Business partner, huh? Not sure how the laws work back in England, but here in the States, we have rules against sexual activity in the workplace.”

“Best get out of the workplace then, yeah?” Jamie’s eyes are dark.

“Yeah,” Dani breathes. She has half a mind to pin Jamie to the couch then and there. Not to go any further than, perhaps, a heated make out session. Not with Jamie in this state. But before the thought can fully evolve, Jamie’s face splits into another massive yawn.

Dani sighs affectionately and gets to her feet. “C’mon,” she says, holding out her hand for Jamie to take, “let’s go home.”

Jamie stands, a little shaky at first, but she’s stable as Dani gathers their things. Side by side, they walk the few blocks to their apartment. The night air is cool against Dani’s face, and the chill sobers Jamie enough that her promiscuity seems to settle. By the time they unlock the front door, she’s blinking sleepily at Dani, who guides her into the bathroom and starts the shower.

It’s odd to see Jamie like this, Dani thinks. She’s soft, pliant beneath Dani’s steady hands undressing her. The pensive silence is common enough, but this feels gentle, more open, somehow. The intimacy is of a kind Dani never imagined she would experience, and neither, she assumed, had Jamie. It speaks to the immense chasms they’ve breached on bridges of trust. That they are able to concede control of their bodies with a blanket confidence that they are safe. They are safe, and they are protected.

It’s a bond Dani treasures, and one she hopes will last a lifetime. Two, if she has anything to say about it.

Jamie steps into the shower with a washcloth, and Dani sets about laying a folded pair of flannel pants and an old t-shirt on the bed. When she returns, Jamie wears a towel and an adoring expression. Dani tilts her head, confused.

“Meant what I said earlier. About you being beautiful.” She is deliberately earnest.

It’s difficult to feel beautiful when your body doesn’t feel like your own. When you prepare to look in the mirror each morning and wonder if you’ll recognize yourself. When the face that’s stared back at you your whole life has changed, and a brown eye is a reminder that you aren’t in control. Dani is learning, though. Slowly.

And she knows Jamie wouldn’t lie, especially drunk Jamie. She lacks the capacity to be anything but adorably honest, despite her admirable attempts at seduction.

Unable to put her thoughts into words, Dani cups Jamie’s jaw, brushing away droplets that trickle from damp curls, and kisses her sweetly.

“To bed with you,” Dani says, shooing her into the next room. Jamie manages to steal three more kisses along the way. She tastes of the mint toothpaste she’d used in the shower. “Come on now, PJs are on the bed.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She thinks she hears Jamie murmur, and Dani can’t contain her eye roll. The situation isn’t unlike the bedtime antics of a child, and the mental picture of her grown partner in footie pajamas evokes a chuckle. She tucks that image away for later.

Helping the shirt over Jamie’s head from behind, Dani presses a fleeting kiss to the scar on her shoulder, a silent observance of the vulnerability they’ve cultivated. Jamie had never hidden her burn, choosing instead to spin her tale of woe before the story came up organically. Much, much later, curled in darkness beneath motel sheets, she had whispered her insecurity and given voice to the resulting shame around feeling self-conscious at all.

Dani makes sure to pay special attention to the area during all subsequent explorations, noting each ridge and pockmark like a cartographer charting new terrain.

She peels back a corner of their duvet, allowing Jamie to climb in.

Jamie clings onto her arm, pulling her in as well. “Please don’t leave me,” she frowns.

“I don’t want to go, but, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m still wearing my party outfit.”

“Hard not to notice when you’ve been teasing me with it all evening,” Jamie sighs, a little sad, a little longing.

Dani swats her playfully. “Go to sleep. I’ll be right there.”

“Can’t properly get to sleep without you, now can I?” Jamie grumbles, but rolls over nonetheless.

Evidently, she can.

By the time Dani slips into sleep clothes and finishes brushing her teeth, Jamie’s breathing has evened out. Dani tucks herself in beside her and drapes an arm across Jamie’s hips.

They’ve built this life together, the two of them. They’ve got an apartment and a small business and more plants than they know what to do with. They’ve got postcards stuck to the fridge and a rickety heater and several throw pillows that Jamie claims to hate but cuddles with when Dani isn’t looking. And, sure, the back left stove burner only works half the time, and maybe the lock on the front door seems to hate Dani’s key in particular, but this is their home, and theirs alone.

Not a foster home, not the O’Mara’s, not the Wingraves’.

Theirs.

Dani revels in the thrill of it all. She’s still scared out of her wits, certainly, but, Dani has found, it’s infinitely more difficult to be scared when the person you love most in the world sleeps soundly beside you on sheets you chose together.

She takes in this feeling, savors this comfort for when the clouds next block the sun.

Whatever comes next, she is not alone.

#my painkillers wore off and so did my ability to write apparently #oh well #I hope you like this!#the haunting of bly manor #dani clayton #jamie #dani x jamie #jamie x dani #haunting of bly manor #Bly Manor fanfic #fic #writing #my writing #prompt fill #damie #damie fanfic #fanfic #the haunting of Bly Manor fanfic #bly manor

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cosmiclatte28 · 4 years

Text

Maniac (Taeyong x you, Yuta)

warning : mention of Taeyong being a maniac and mad scientist.

It’s pure fictional and no these are nothing real and Taeyong is not like that. Please just read this for fun :) enjoy!!

The sparks of fire from connecting wires, constant buzzing noise from the generator in the dim room, and the wet shirt drenched in sweat didn't stop the young scientist in finishing his biggest project.

Grunting when his sweat falls on his hand and causes the screwdriver he held falls, he tosses them to the table and walks away to take off his shirts. He wipes his sweaty face and body with a towel he has in his garage and gulps the last volume of water.

Right in time when he finishes his water, a man enters the room with two cold beer and a plate of sandwich

"Take some break Taeyong," the man with a hint of Japanese accent walks to sit beside the bare-chested man with red hair.

Taeyong smiles a little when he sees the blonde Japanese guy calmly makes himself comfortable sitting beside him.

"Your accent is getting better." Taeyong wipes his hands to the towel and chugs on the cold drink Yuta brought.

Yuta chuckles "Thanks, I practice hard like you told me to." He looks around and sees the project Taeyong is working on

"How is it?"

Taeyong sighs "I cannot connect the last wire and burnt some of the metal pieces."

Yuta stands to examine the thing closely, he's Taeyong's best partner when it comes to robotic and he's been a lot of help in designing things.

"Let me try, my hands might be handier." Yuta focuses his eyes on the wires and opens a palm waiting for Taeyong to toss the tool he needs.

Taeyong just tosses the connector and lay down on the sofa for a moment he needs to rest his eyes.

"Tae!" Yuta's happy voice wakes him up. Taeyong scurries to his side and smiles when Yuta made the last wire connected.

"Thank you!" He pats Yuta's back several time as his eyes scan through the metal pieces.

"What next?" Yuta also sounds excited and interested in seeing Taeyong finish this project successfully.

"I just need to put in this programmed chip." Taeyong explains as he bites his lip when pushing the microchip into the socket.

The two young men hold their breath and almost forgot how to breathe when the metal piece standing in front of them opens their eyes.

"YOU DID IT!!!" Yuta hugs Taeyong tightly and even carries him and make one spin to congratulate his best friend's hard work.

Taeyong cannot hide his happy tears "Thank you Yuta! It's also thanks to your help!"

He did it, Lee Taeyong, 27 years old, made his first project comes to life.

He built an artificial intelligent that resembles human up to 90%. He graduated with a computer degree and some gifted robotic skills and with the help of Yuta, his father introduced Yuta to him before he graduated.

Taeyong shared a house with Yuta and felt comfortable enough to tell Yuta about his project, Taeyong built the garage to be his workshop and Yuta as his project assistant.

Yuta designed the human robot, according to Taeyong's description and requests. Yuta worked so hard on making the outer body of the AI to look like human and he did not disappoint Taeyong when one day Taeyong woke up to a pretty AI suite.

"You're crazy!" Taeyong said when he first touches the 'skin' of the robot Yuta worked on for a month.

Yuta shook his head "I just found the best materials! This looks super pretty because your design in first place is already breath-taking. Plus I know what I want more." Yuta tapped his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze "I know it's hard for you Tae, but if your wish is to make an AI based on (y/n), I promise I'll support you, besides I am happy to get a new friend." There’s something fishy on the way Yuta pronounced new

Taeyong hugged Yuta for his gentle words. “You’re always my friend and I always let you know my other friends too, what do you mean?”

Yuta chcukles “I mean the one like me. I finally have an artificial intelligent friend Tae.”

Taeyong looks into Yuta’s eyes and memories come back flooding his minds.

Yes, Taeyong had just lost the love of his life. He met you when he was a bachelor and he asked you out on your second year. You dated and graduated together only for you to tell him the news that you're terminally ill. Taeyong was shocked and surprised, he asked you why you never told him. And as cliché as it sounds, you told him "It's for the best."

Taeyong recorded all of the things you do with him, he secretly noted down everything you liked to do. By the time you left him forever, Taeyong already has the most important things he loves from you.

It took him a year to finally feel less sad than before (though still sad).

He told Yuta his idea of making an AI to replace you because he felt so empty and Yuta is always in for things to make Tae happy again.

For one-year Taeyong started working on the program, then to the metal bones and with Yuta's help he got the outer design perfect like you. There are so many trials and errors and Taeyong ever feels like giving up, but Yuta is always there to cheer him up and telling Taeyong it is okay to rest and when he wants to continue Yuta will help. That makes Taeyong continues his project until today.

Standing before him is a 98% copy of you. Physically this is like you, with no organs but he programmed you to have feelings and inputted memories from your dates with him. He tried his best to make the old (y/n) into this shell of metals and wires and silicone.

Right now, the AI he's working so hard for is reciting the greetings Taeyong programmed and Taeyong smiles when he heard your voice there. Well he had recorded some phrases of yours he loves and put it in the program.

“I am going to take a good care of her and make sure she is comfortable!” Yuta happily takes over the computer program and monitors your new health.

Taeyong takes a step back to sit on his sofa. There he sees Yuta and you, trying to communicate with one another. Taeyong smiles sadly when he realizes all of his life, he’s been surrounded by artificial things. His father was a famous smart inventor and he made Yuta, the first AI designed to take care of Taeyong, make him happy and make sure he gets all the helps he needed. Yuta was built perfectly for Taeyong’s father’s generation, though in some things like language his dad set Yuta to speak Japanese so Taeyong can practice his Japanese. After his father died of old age, Taeyong taught Yuta Korean, and updated some of his program. Now Yuta was programmed more like a friend rather than a guardian figure. Yuta doesn’t look like a robot, some of Taeyong’s bestfriend wouldn’t know if Taeyong did not tell them.

Yuta has been the greatest friend he has, although he is artificial he is capable of feeling and showing emotions.

Taeyong chuckles when his mind comes back to the present. Beside him, you sit while resting your head on his shoulder, the same way you always did back then. He caresses your hair and whispers, “I love you (y/n), to the point where I became crazy.”

That night Taeyong can finally sleep in peace when he knows he has you back right beside him, sleeping safe and sound.

“I am sorry honey if I turned into a maniac. But I, Lee Taeyong, am your maniac.” His eyes glint in the dark and he pulls over the blanket over his head.

As mad as a scientist can get, when one has their desired goal they won’t stop until they get it.

Yuta sits back on his private room. He plugs his charging battery into the socket and sits down while his hand reaches out for a pen and a paper. Carefully Yuta notes down the things that happens to Taeyong today. He notes how Taeyong finished his project, he notes how he is also happy to see (y/n) back in the form of an AI and Yuta cannot wait to have some time alone to tell (y/n) the things she needs to know living as AI. Yuta places the paper into a neat folder coded by years. He puts it back to the shelf next to four other years. Taeyong’s dad programmed Yuta to always make daily entries of what happens to his son, and Yuta will never forget that obligation. Taeyong never know about this, but Yuta’s sure one day Taeyong will see just how much things he had done in this life that bring a lot of happiness to others and to Yuta.

Yuta knows Taeyong looks like a mad scientist, a maniac, but for his entire life Yuta has only known these types of people as his family. The inventor and Taeyong. Yuta just learn about other people’s life that is different than his when Taeyong’s friends come to visit.

All in all, Yuta is glad his young master, or best friend is now happy with the love of his life. Carefully Yuta glances to his small monitor in his hand, it is the countdown to the day he will be shut down. He was programmed that when Taeyong reached the biggest goal he has, and when he got a new replacement Yuta might be shut down permanently. Taeyong doesn’t have to know this, Yuta saw how hard it for Taeyong was to let you go when he knows how many days were left.

The young AI investigates his screen, 72:00:00 and the countdown started.

Yuta smiles when he peeks his head over to see his best friend already finding his happiness back. Right, 72 hours should be enough for Yuta to make sure (y/n) knows everything she needs to know about Taeyong.

He’s glad at least he can finish his goal, shutting down is not something Yuta’s afraid of. He just wants Taeyong to be happy and he’ll rest forever in peace.

Little did Yuta know, Taeyong will realize about the countdown and he will find a way to stop it.

end

how is it? Did you see it coming that Yuta is an AI too? I had this crazy plot just in the crazy hours before I can sleep... I am sorry if this is messy, it’s done in a rush when I had the inspiration and my brain was working well.

Please look forward to the 12 days of Christmas fanfic project!! I finished everything and you’ll be able to read it starting from 26 Dec!

have a nice holiday!!

#taeyong x you #taeyong x reader #taeyong x y/n #taeyong x yuta #yuta x taeyong #yuta x reader #taeyong au #yuta au #taeyong angst #taeyong fluff #taeyong imagines #taeyong scenarios #yuta imagines #yuta scenarios #taeyong nct #nakamoto yuta #nct imagines #nct aus #nct masterlist

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vv3nti · 4 years

Text

the tapes

jj maybank x reader

summary: film school was your dream, it’s all you’ve wanted since you were eleven and the pogues were devoted to help you get there, especially jj. u

warnings: mild cursing, implied smut(BARELY), fluff

tape 2, june 8th

you couldn't help but pull out your camera; the setting was too exquisite not to capture. the white grains of sands sparkling in the fierce sun, aquamarine water colliding this the ground before recoiling back into itself, and the sea breeze whisking his blonde locks every which way. the view was too breath-taking, too beautiful to pass away. jj was a work of art, your muse, all of your inspiration emerged from his being, and you basked in his light.

you panned your camera from the sun, capturing all of its flares, then to the ocean, and finally landing on your partner's face. his eyes cast beyond the waves, many wrinkles prominent on his forehead as he pondered through his thoughts. you perfectly seized the boy with your lens; he was young but had been through many hardships, his eyes twinkled in the sun, but they had a dull, sadness deep within. he bore a story, and you wanted to illustrate it.

jj's lips twitched upwards, he didn't need to look at you to know what you were doing. "this again?" he beamed, finally sparing you and the camera a glance. "don't you have enough footage between now and yesterday? i'm gonna start charging for using this striking face."

you giggled as he gestured to his face. "you wish, and i already told you, you can never have too much footage." you gently rest the camera on your legs, videography was your passion, your calling. you could never get enough of it, and you blame your uncle; he gave you his old video recorder when you were eleven. he unknowingly opened a new chapter of your life. "and if i want to get into hollands film school, i need to get as much content as i possibly can." you explained.

jj took the device and set in on the beach towel beside you before bringing you into his embrace. he didn't speak a word; he only held you, he had witnessed how anxious you became whenever you thought too hard about rejection. jj tried to do as much as he could by providing you with the support and comfort you needed, he only hoped it would ease your worry and anxiety. your dreams had become his own, jj could never follow his own passion, his own self-destruction didn't allow him, but you inspired him. if you were happy, he was too.

only if jj knew you thought the same of him, jj gave you a reason to keep going. he showed you that if you wanted something to keep fighting for it, you don't know where you would be if he wasn't in your life. jj became your usual, and that's why you filmed him- although you've never told him that. the two of you needed each other.

tape 11, july 2nd

"how do i look?" kiara inquired, twirling around in a pair of orange, flamed shaped glasses. the five of you were setting up for a boneyard kegger, but you and kie opted for getting more content for you while the boys did all the hard work. once your friends found out about your desire to go to film school, they all offered to help you achieve your dream.

"breath-taking." you murmured your attention had shifted to the figures behind the girl. jj and john b dragging one of the keggers along the sand, their silhouettes cast from the red and orange sun. you moved your lens to get a sharp shot, one eye squinted as you worked on the focus and frame before walking further to get a few close-ups.

sweat fell from the boy's forehead, dripping off their chins and hitting their shirts. watching jj do the heavy lifting caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach, it felt like you were meeting for the first once again.

"aren't you supposed to be filming me?" jj's voice brought you from your thoughts, you had been staring at with working rather than documenting his actions. a blush formed on your cheeks as you looked away, you wanted to wipe the smirk right off his face, but you'd been caught.

you met his playful eyes. "i-i am." you expressed, raising your camera in the air. jj's grin didn't falter, he had completely stopped what he was doing to poke fun at you.

"sure you are, princess."

"stop." you whined. "i'm going to film john b, he looks much more interesting."

tape --, july 23rd

"what are you doing?" you swiped at jj who held your camera up to his eye, today was supposed to be a day of relaxation and drinking, but your boyfriend had other plans. you were soaking in the sunlight with jj as the other pogues were in the water surfing, and you had not planned on taking any videos for the rest of the day. "stop."

"why should i?" he countered, dodging your attempts at grabbing the device. a smile lingered on jj's face as he watched you grow frustrated at his tactics; he'd never seen why you loved this thing so much, but now as you look at you through the lens, he understood. everything was amplified, so pleasing in the eye of the camera, he could have sworn you were glowing. the more he looked at your figure, the more entranced he grew, it was utterly mesmerizing.

"because i'm not meant to be on camera, that's your job." you said in a matter of fact tone. you didn't want nor like to be on the other side of the camera, capturing the events around you was your responsibility, not the other way around. you didn't even know how to act on camera, you have tried to film yourself a plethora of times, but you always freeze up and stutter out a mess of words; to jj and the rest of the pogues it came so easy, like they were made to be on the big screens. plus, you were an observer, you enjoyed viewing and listening to how people went on about their day.

jj ran his hand through his hair, his brows furrowed and eyes downcast on your body. "but you're too beautiful not to be on camera, baby." admitting jj, he finally lowered the camera when you stopped trying to fight him for it. the two of you stared at each other intensively, waiting for the other to say something, but neither of you made a sound. you were too gobsmacked to even form thoughts, let alone speak a word, jj may have been teasing, but you really took his words to heart. as many times as he said you were beautiful, it never felt like this, it felt strange, foreign. jj saw something you didn't see in yourself, and you will forever thank him for that.

"you think i'm beautiful?" you didn't mean for your words to be so quiet, but that's what jj did to you.

"of course i do, y/n. you're the most gorgeous girl i've ever laid eyes on, i mean just look at. you are beautiful inside and out." he replied honestly. "your sexy, smart, and you do this thing with your lips whenever you're focus, and it drives me crazy. let's not forget your kindest and devotion, i mean, look at this thing; how long did it take you to save up for this thing? you have a heart made of gold, and it shows." jj could had countless things to say, but he felt he'd heard enough to get his point. he never wanted you to doubt yourself, jj saw so much in you that it amazed him everyday he saw you. he wanted to make sure you knew just how attractive you were. "and you do this thing when we're fucking, like-"

"okay, okay, enough, i get it. thank you, jj. it really does mean a lot." you chuckled, waving your hands in the air gesturing for him to stop. a blush rose on your cheeks, you wanted to cry, you just loved this boy so damn much it hurt. he never let you lose sight of what's essential— yet another reason you chose to film him everyday. the film application to holland is supposed to be about your life, and you have flawlessly captured it because jj gave you life, gave you a will. as long as you had him, you didn't need film school, or a camera, just him and the pogues; they gave you something a chunk of metal or an education couldn't. it wasn't something you could put into words or show in a video, but it was strong, stronger than anything you've experienced, and you wouldn't give it up for the world.

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reyescarlos · 4 years

Text

both of us are losing || a tarlos fic

word count: 4k || read on ao3

I know sometimes It's gonna rain But baby, can we make up now 'Cause I can't sleep through the pain

Carlos has always prided himself on his ability to keep his cool. He likes to think it’s what makes him a good officer and a great friend to those close to him. He’s patient and analytical. He examines a situation from all conceivable angles before drawing conclusions.

But even he has limits. Even he is capable of thinking with his heart over his head and, as expected, it hasn’t led him anywhere good.

Getting into an all-out screaming match isn’t how he could have seen his night ending but as he stands on the opposite side of the kitchen from TK, he doesn’t see how else this could go.

The evening had been going well until this point, the two sharing a quiet night in at Carlos’ place for dinner. As always, being able to share in TK’s company after a long day at work was the perfect antidote to a stressful shift. There’s never a greater comfort for him than to spend time with TK. It hardly ever matters what they’re doing. It’s always just enough to be around him.

These last three months they’ve been together have been a real highlight for him. Given the complicated path they took to this point, all Carlos wants to do is wrap himself up in moments like this where it’s just the two of them simply existing in the same space together.

With their meal done, they two work alongside each other in the kitchen doing dishes with TK on washing and Carlos on drying duties. TK’s phone chimes on the counter with an incoming call, the jingle echoing over the rush of the water from the tap.

“Grab that for me, would you?” TK asks, his hands covered in suds. “It’s probably my dad.”

Carlos drapes the dish towel he’s been using to dry plates with over his shoulder as he turns to pick up TK’s phone. His heart sinks to the pit of his stomach at the name he sees flashing across the screen. He stays frozen in place, unsure of what to think.

“It’s not the captain,” he says, his voice grave.

TK shuts off the faucet and looks over at him. Carlos holds the phone up for him to see the screen as well. TK sighs and rolls his eyes.

“I told him to stop calling,” he hisses, shaking his hand to get some water off before taking the phone from Carlos and rejecting the call.

Carlos blinks, his brain slowly processing what TK has just said.

“Wait, you’ve been speaking to him?”

TK sighs, ripping off a sheet of paper towel and drying his hands.

“It’s not like that. He wanted to apologize and see how I was. He left this long voicemail...it was so ridiculous. But then he called again and I figured he would keep doing it until we actually spoke.”

“When the hell did this happen and why am I only now hearing about it?”

Carlos’ voice sounds so different to him now and it’s evident that TK feels the same way because his boyfriend looks up at him like he’s someone else entirely.

“Carlos,” he says slowly. “Just listen to me, okay? I don’t want you getting worked up over this. I handled it and there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Handled what exactly? TK, what is going on here?”

“Nothing! That’s just it. There’s literally nothing going on here. God,” he groans.

“How can you expect me to believe that? Your ex is calling you. Repeatedly, apparently. Obviously something is happening. Don’t give me that.”

TK shakes his head and sighs.

“How long have you been talking to him, TK?” Carlos asks.

TK hesitates for a moment, pursing his lips before answering. “He reached out to me last week.”

Carlos stands up straighter, jaw clenched. “So seven whole days have gone by and you couldn’t find so much as a minute within any of them to tell me that your ex-fiancé reached out to you?”

“Ex-boyfriend!” TK corrects, as if that makes much of a difference in Carlos’ eyes right now.

He scoffs and shakes his head, wringing the dish towel in his hands. For a moment it’s too easy to pretend it’s Alex’s neck.

“Oh, well, pardon me then. That makes all of this so much better.”

“There’s no need to be sarcastic here.”

“You’re kidding me, right? You must be joking. I don’t care what the label is. What this boils down to is the fact that you kept this from, TK. What else are you hiding from me?”

“That’s not fair. I didn’t do this on purpose, Carlos, and I’m not hiding anything. I just didn’t think anything of it.”

“And maybe that’s the real problem here. You actively chose not to tell me and you probably never would have if he didn’t call just now.”

“Do you honestly think Alex and I are getting back together or something? We haven’t been talking every day, catching up like we’re suddenly friends. I didn’t answer when he first tried.”

“But you obviously picked up at some point and didn’t think it was worth it to tell me.”

“Because it doesn’t matter. He just wanted to check in and say he was sorry for what happened back in New York. I told him that I was fine, that I moved on and that I’m happy so we can just drop the conversation. He’s nothing to me.”

“It does matter, TK. It matters so much and the fact that you can’t see that…,” he trails off, shaking his head.

TK pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is all coming out wrong.”

“Then explain it clearly because I’m not understanding how you could think I didn’t have a right to know. It’s about respect and transparency.”

“Carlos, there was never a threat here. Our relationship was never in danger. I love you so much. If nothing else, I need you to know that.”

Carlos’ vision swims for a moment, his eyes filling with tears born more so out of frustration than anything else. He’s always been an angry cryer.

“That’s not how you show someone you care about them. You don’t lie.”

TK runs a hand over his face. “I didn’t lie to you!”

“Omission isn't the truth either, TK. It amounts to the same. Screw technicalities.”

TK jerks back, blinking twice. Carlos struggles to stop his heart from racing, his chest from heaving. The silence that falls between them now is unbearable. Carlos’ ears ring with their exchange.

This divide between them seems so much larger than the counter that separates them. Carlos has been here before and the ghosts of his past relationships start to creep into the room, suffocating him.

Carlos bites back on his lower lip, swiping at his eye. He feels like a dam that’s ready to crack at any moment. There’s too much pressure building in his chest and if he’s not careful, he’ll explode in a way that may cause far too much damage.

What he needs is fresh air and time away. This isn’t where he needs to be, at least not in this moment.

“I just...I can’t. I can’t be around you right now.”

Carlos tosses the dish towel down on the counter and walks past TK out of the kitchen.

“Are you serious? Carlos, where are you going?”

“I’m going for a walk, okay? I need some air.”

“It’s getting late and you’re upset. You shouldn’t be outside.”

“Well I can’t stay here so I don’t have many options, now do I?” Carlos snaps, turning around to face TK.

His boyfriend stops dead in his tracks. His bottom lip crumbles a bit but Carlos looks away, stewing in the anger that has taken root in him. This feels wrong but this frustration has its claws in too deeply for him to apply reason to the situation.

Other people get to rant and rave. Carlos keeps far too much inside. Now that the lid has been lifted, the steam has to go somewhere.

Carlos turns back, snagging his keys off the coffee table as he hears TK draw nearer once more.

“Carlos. Carlos!” TK calls after him.

It’s the last thing he hears before slamming the front door shut behind him.

~*~*~

Alone with his thoughts proves itself to be an even worse place for him to be. Carlos has no idea how long he’s been walking around his neighborhood but it isn’t long enough for him to grow comfortable with the ugly thoughts swirling around in his head.

He pictures TK being pushed too far with this argument, seeking solace in something familiar, in Alex. Logically, he knows that would never happen. Alex broke something between the two of them that could never be repaired and yet that cruel, insidious voice in the back of his head whispers to him, conjuring up imaginary scenarios that feel far too vivid and real.

Had Carlos not traveled this same road before with partners in the past? He’s been burned so many times throughout the years that a part of him had been secretly holding its breath just waiting for the other shoe to drop with TK.

Carlos has long since learned how to live with that worry lingering in the recesses of his thoughts. Even when things were going well, life had a habit of proving to him why he should always remain cautious and vigilant.

Certainly he and TK had gotten off to a rocky, awkward start with each other. But once they managed to find their footing, things had been going extremely well. Perfectly, Carlos would venture to say.

But inevitably, the end would come in the form of a boyfriend finding some way to let him down. It was almost always when he’d invested so much of himself. Carlos was worried he’d wind up giving away so many pieces of himself that there would be nothing left.

He thinks of the look on TK’s face as he snapped at him just before leaving. It’s enough to make Carlos sick to his stomach. He knows his insecurity has just ripped the bit of fabric that’s been binding them together this whole time. All Carlos can do now is pray that isn’t something that can’t be salvaged.

Even though he felt justified in being upset over TK keeping the truth from him, Carlos knows his approach was all wrong. Being quick to give into anger wasn’t his usual speed but he slipped into it as easily as a hot bath.

Picking the night apart, Carlos realizes how much he felt ambushed by the sudden appearance of Alex in his life. The man was thousands of miles away and yet he had placed himself so prominently into the future Carlos was trying to work towards with TK. The past had a nasty habit of circling back, the old becoming new again.

What really troubled Carlos was the familiarity of tonight’s scenario. He’s been cheated on, dumped, ghosted. Just about every relationship ended in disaster but he’d been wrapping himself in the belief that this time around, things were finally different.

You’re a great guy but…

I think we’re better off as friends…

I’m sorry to do this to you…

He’s heard it all before and then some. Knowing that TK had been harboring a secret like this set something off within. He knows TK’s actions weren’t malicious. Now that he’s had time to replay it all and truly recount his boyfriend’s words, he knows TK was just trying in his own way to shield him.

Carlos’ head is a riot of thoughts but the most pressing one is that he needs to set things right with TK.

He rounds the corner to his block, slipping his phone out of his pocket as he ambles down the sidewalk. He wonders if TK will even be keen on answering him tonight. If his boyfriend still wants space, he’ll of course respect that but Carlos hates loose ends and this one is a gaping hole.

He pulls up TK’s name in his favorites and touches his thumb to the screen, pressing the phone against his ear as he walks up the short pathway to his door and unlocks it.

The phone rings as he steps inside and Carlos startles hearing the chime of a phone inside his home. He follows the sound to the living room where TK is sitting on the couch, eyes fixed to the door. His legs are pulled up to his chest, his arms folded on top of his knees. He looks so small, like a child that has just been reprimanded, the cuffs of his sweater pulled down over his hands.

TK’s eyes are rimmed pink, his face flushed. The man looks as if he’s aged a few years in the span of time Carlos had stepped away. It makes something in Carlos’ chest crack open.

He falters at the sight of him, ending the call. In the silence of the room now, he can only hear the ticking of the clock as it counts the seconds it takes for Carlos to find something to say.

“You’re still here.”

TK looks wounded at the statement. “Would you rather I not be?” TK asks quietly, chin propped up on his arms.

Carlos toys with his keys before dropping them into the dish on the coffee table.

“Of course not,” Carlos replies, walking around the table to sit on the couch as well.

He leaves a bit of space between them, still unsure of what footing they stand on with each other. It’s reassuring to see TK now, to know that he at least still wants to be around him and talk this whole thing out.

“I’m sorry about walking out like that. I just needed to clear my head.”

“I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’m the one that got us to that point.”

TK lets out a shaky breath and continues. “I’ve never seen you that upset before.”

Carlos shrugs. “I don’t usually get angry, especially not like that. I wasn’t myself and that wasn’t right.”

“You’re allowed to get mad, Carlos. If something bothers you, it’s only natural.”

Carlos shakes his head. “I don’t like giving into that.” He falls silent for a moment. “I’m glad you stayed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I hate how this feels; this isn’t us. I don’t want you and I to end tonight on a bad note and have it spill over into tomorrow.”

TK stares at him for a moment and shakes his head as if to clear it.

“What?” Carlos prompts.

TK licks his lips and unfurls himself. “I’ve never been with anyone who thought like that. All my exes, our bad moods stayed with us for however long it took to fizzle out on its own.”

Carlos doesn’t like the sound of that at all.

“That’s not how I operate. Tomorrow is its own day. It shouldn’t inherit the troubles from today. I don’t like going to bed angry.”

It was an old adage his family swore by and Carlos had adopted the philosophy for himself as well. Harboring negative feelings was a disservice to everyone.

TK looks at him for a moment before lowering his gaze to his hands.

“I’m sorry I got defensive. I was totally in the wrong with this. I’ve been thinking it all over and seeing it from your perspective. I fucked up. Honestly, this whole time I knew I was messing up. You must hate me.”

“I could never hate you, T. You know that. I just needed some time to clear my head but I wasn’t walking out on us, I promise. I just needed to be alone and work some stuff out.”

TK sighs, letting out a relieved breath. Carlos feels guilty for making him worry.

“Did you find that peace of mind you were looking for?”

Carlos chuckles tersely. “Sort of. I realized the real reason why I blew up didn’t really have anything to do with you specifically. It was old insecurities rearing their heads and I caved. I thought I was past everything and all it took was one instance to show me that I’ve still got some things I need to work on.”

“Past what exactly? What kind of insecurities?”

Carlos sighs. He isn’t sure how to touch on his concerns now. It sounds so trivial and childish in his own head. He fears what TK will think if he brings himself to disclose what he’s been grappling with all evening.

“I know how much he means to you. Hell, you wanted to marry this guy, build a future with him. I’m not holding that against you, of course. It’s just...what you guys had clearly counted for a lot. If you had decided to continue talking to him or to even see him again, I couldn’t compete with that.”

TK’s brows furrow, reaching for his hand.

“Carlos, please listen to me. You win out each and every time in every possible way. Alex meant something to me. Past tense. As in used to but not anymore. I chose wrong with him but I know that I’ve got it right with you. That isn’t something I’ve ever doubted since meeting you.”

Carlos looks away, chewing on his lip. It isn’t like him to show his anxiousness like this and yet here he is, a ball of nerves.

“Talk to me, Los. What are you thinking?”

TK’s been so candid with him about his life back in New York, all the highs and lows of his battles with substances and depression. In Carlos’ eyes, those are real issues, true upsets that rank so much higher on a list than pesky confidence issues. But if he can’t be open with the man he’s in love with, Carlos realizes that there isn’t anyone else he can talk this out with. And besides, he reasons, his thoughts and feelings will always matter with TK.

“I’m not usually the first choice someone makes. Or...if I am, they always seem to inevitably look elsewhere. I never seem to be enough in the long run. Seeing that he called you, it scared me. I know that you love me and that we’re happy and good together. I know that we have something real and solid here. Rationally I know that you all ended on horrible terms. But even with all that in mind, I’m always so scared of losing you one day. I’ve had boyfriends run back to their exes before. I panicked thinking it could be the case here.”

“That’s never going to happen with me, Carlos. Never,” TK says quickly.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, actually I do. I know it for a fact. I am so incredibly in love with you. I never thought I could ever be this happy with someone and yet, here you are. All mine. I’ll say it to you every day and you can bet I’ll make it my mission to show you too. I don’t ever want you to doubt your importance in my life. I don’t know what I’d be now if we never got together. Alex is barely a thought and on those extremely rare moments when he comes across my mind, all I can think is how goddamn lucky I was that I dodged a bullet there.”

TK laces their fingers, giving his hand a squeeze.

“I had no idea you’ve been through all of that in the past. Shit, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s dumb. That’s no reason to flip out like I did.”

“Of course it is; it makes total sense. I didn’t mean to add to that, to be another person on that list. But I swear to you, I will never make a mistake like this again. I wasn’t trying to hide anything or be sneaky going behind your back. I didn’t tell you because I honestly didn’t want you to feel like you had any reason to worry because you truly don’t. I feel nothing towards Alex or any other guy for that matter. But I see how not telling you was way worse. I should have been upfront from the second he called me.”

TK sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. “I’ve still got a lot of learning to do.”

“So do I,” Carlos says, searching TK’s eyes. “God, I was being so stupid and ridiculous.”

TK frowns and inches closer. “Shh, no, you weren’t. Your reaction was completely justified, a hundred percent. I didn’t mean to make you scared and I’m so sorry you were ever with anyone that made you feel less than. You’re the greatest part of my life, Carlos Reyes. The absolute best part. There hasn’t been a single day that I haven’t felt like the luckiest guy in the world for being loved by you. You’re so much more than I ever thought I’d have.”

Carlos smiles at the reassurance. All the same, he can’t help but to feel foolish.

“Still, I’m so embarrassed,” he chuckles, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Why? You don’t ever have to be embarrassed around me.”

“I made something out of nothing and just showed you what a massive insecure mess I can be. Not exactly the finest quality.”

“If you say one more negative thing about my boyfriend I’ll...well, I don’t have an actual threat here. I’ll just be very upset.” TK kisses at his temple. “I love every part of you, even the messy bits. God knows I’m made mostly of parts like that and you still love me anyway. I don’t want you keeping up appearances or downplaying your emotions for me. Whatever you’re feeling or thinking, I want to know because it’s valid, Los.”

TK brings Carlos’ hand to his mouth, lips skimming along the back.

“You’re not a machine. It’s okay to feel things. And, to be fair, I went about this whole Alex thing totally wrong. I should’ve said something; I shouldn’t have kept that from you. This one’s on me. If an ex you were serious about did that, I’d want to know.”

“So you forgive me?” Carlos asks.

TK frowns, tracing the outline of Carlos’ jaw. “Babe, there’s nothing to forgive here. I’m not mad at you. I was upset with myself.”

“I snapped, walked out, and I made you cry. Those are criminal offenses in my book.”

TK laughs and shakes his head. “It’s nothing we can’t bounce back from, right?”

“Right. We’re okay. Better than that, even. We’re prepared if anymore exes decide to come out of the woodwork.”

TK laughs and nods in agreement. “Definitely. So, have we passed the ready-for-bed test now?”

Carlos hums in thought, standing up from the couch and tugging TK towards him.

“Not yet. There’s just one final step until we get the all clear,” he says.

TK smirks knowingly and tips his head up for Carlos to capture his lips. Carlos frames his boyfriend’s face in his hands, mouth moving over TK’s steadily. He kisses him deeply, casting out all the residual doubt and fear that’s knocking about, clearing it all like cobwebs from the darkest corners of his head.

He pulls back enough to stare into TK’s eyes, those gorgeous green irises teeming with so much love and affection. How Carlos allowed himself to give in to misgivings seems inconceivable now. No one has ever looked at him the way TK does.

“Okay, now we’re ready.”

Ready to put this whole argument behind them, ready to sleep, ready to tackle whatever obstacles may try to stand in their way.

As they walk hand in hand towards his bedroom now, Carlos feels as if he’s leaving so much behind. For all that he’s given away to people throughout the years, he’s struck by just how much the man holding on to him has given him back in return. And that, Carlos realizes, isn’t something anyone stands a chance of taking away.

#tarlos #carlos reyes #tk strand #911 lone star #ronenrubinstein #userjilly #sulkybbarnes #sunshinestrand #starlightbuck #usermaximus #userthai #useralie #brilliantbanshee #usermaddiee #userpauline #kimmy writes

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voltagesmutter · 4 years

Text

Pregnancy HeadCannon (Gavin/Kiro)

It’s an emotion, fluff kinda day.

Gavin:

“Do you we really have to do this?” You groggily questioned, taking lazy steps as you held your husband's hand. The cool air of the Sunday morning brushed against your exposed knees, sending a light tickle across your body.

“It will be fun! And you’ll finally get that morning exercise you always go on about,” A laughter in his voice, this is not the morning exercise you were on about.

The sun glinted down on the soccer pitch, the reporters had warned it was a heatwave of a day which was beginning early in the day. You and your husband were attending the annual event of a soccer match with a rival precinct from another sector. Three games consisted: Cops, spouses/partners, mixed. And because your wonderful husband thought it was a brilliant idea, signed you both up to participate. That the first time you ever looked at Gavin and thought of a divorce. You hated being up early, you hated soccer, you hated any sport for that matter and now the two now combined on your day off work was just pure torture.

“Beside, you look really hot in that uniform,” The blush grazing his cheeks as he swung your intertwined hands. Oh Gavin, I do love you.

The rules explained, 6 a side game for all matches and pleasantries made with the rivals, the games were ready to begin. Gavin and five other offices from his team took their positions, taking 2-2-1 formation, Gavin taking a defender position. Your eyes were unable to stop watching your husband in such a physical form, almost jealous of the beads of sweat that dripped off his forehead, a physique that even the gods would envy.

The ball kicked from foot to foot, balls being sent flying across the pitch in hopes of reaching the netted goal. The team rippled with stamina, none of them even losing an inch of fatigue through the 30 minute game. You on the other hand, you were exhausted just watching.

The partners and you all cheered as they managed to score a winning goal within the last minute, one of the sergeants dodging the attackers perfectly to hit the ball into the net. Walking off the pitch he gave you a quick peck on the lips, neither of you wanting to show too much PDA in front of his colleagues.

You took position as a defender, the rules had been explained but you still didn’t fully understand, your aim was to run around and kick the ball towards the goal. Normally balls flying to your face wasn’t something you minded, but in this circumstance it was. Having to duck and dodge every so often, a rival player profoundly booted the ball every time it came near them, almost smacking you square in the face at one point.

Your muscles ached from the running, only a few more minutes until the game ended, the rivals winning by over 2 points; the whole team out of breath, it was evidently clear none of you had fitness like your partners. By now the sun had risen, blaring down on the field, your skin tingling from the heat.

Only four minutes left.

You saw an opening, the ball passing from directly in front of you. You sprinted with the last of your energy, the ball blocked by your feet from the opposition.

Three minutes left.

You ran up the pitch, the wind pushing with a light graze behind you to help your speed, the opposition feeling it heavily push against them. What’s the fun in having a wind-controlling husband if he can’t use his powers to help his wife every so often.

Two minutes left.

Even if you didn’t win you still wanted to attempt at a goal. As you waited for an opening, the side of your foot hitting the ball, your skin tingling with a blaze.

One minute left.

Your vision popped with white, Gavin looked in horror to see the colour fade drastically out of your skin, your knees buckling from under you as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. A strong pair of arms swooping under you to catch your fall, black taking over your vision.

“Hey,” A soft reassuring voice filled your eyes, the warmth of a hand over yours as your heavy eyes peeled open. The brightness of the light made you hiss slightly, holding up a hand to block it as your vision adjusted. You lay on a blue leather chair in the emergency room, Gavin flying your limp body in recording timing after you fainted.

An iv drip inserted into your arm, even looking at it made your stomach queasy. Gavin sat to your right so you didn’t have to look at it, his eyes slightly bloodshot and the faintest wetness graced his cheeks.

“What happened?” You asked, adjusting yourself to sit up properly, Gavin bolting forward to help you.

“They said you passed out from the heat,” Gavin squeezing your hand before pulling you into a tight embrace, “Please don’t scare me like that again”. The warmth of his words sent your heart fluttering, your whole world clutching you tight to him.

A doctor came into the room only moments later, clip-board held close as he examined his notes. He reassured both you and Gavin that everything was fine, until a sentence sent your heart racing to the point the heart-rate monitor was pounding against the screen.

“Fainting is very common in the early stages of pregnancy, everything with the baby is fine”.

The room in the air almost stilled, you blinked a few times before asking the doctor to repeat.

“Mrs.Bai you’re pregnant,” The hand on yours twitched slightly, “I assumed you both knew,”.

The look shared between your husband and you was one of pure love, no need for an exchange of words as he cradled you close, tears from both of you ran down your cheeks.

It didn’t matter to either of you about the game that still continued, both of you winning in a completely different sense.

A life created from the purest of love in the universe.

Kiro:

The third wave of nausea hit you at work, barely making it to the bathroom in time as the contents of your breakfast came up in the porcelain bowl. Your stomach cramps throbbed, almost bringing you to tears. Never had your pre-period cramps been this bad.

You freshened up, noticing how you skin breaking out in the corners like it did as a teenager, you looked like you'd been hit by a brick wall. You felt like it too.

“You look worse than normal,” A stern tone met by a purple gaze. The CEO who you was just giving a report to moments ago in his office stood outside the bathroom.

“I feel it,” You mumbled, followed by an apology, face red with embarrassment from rushing out of your 1-1 meeting.

“Take the rest of the day off,” His tone not be argued with, “Go rest and do this right tomorrow”.

You didn’t argue or put a fight, too tired to battle a losing fight.

You almost had a heart attack when you came home, Kiro sat on the couch, game controller in hand.

“Miss.Chips! Your back!” Dropping the controller and running to pick you up in his arms. Still shocked to see your boyfriend who should be away on shoot for a few more days in your shared home.

“K-Kiro put me down!” You squealed playfully, a hand clutching to his shoulder with a slight lightheadedness, What are you doing home?”.

“Do you not wish to see me Miss.Chips,” He pouted, unable to hide his playful smile as placed your feet back on the floor.

“Of course I do, but your meant to be filming for four more days,”.

“We wrapped up early because of the good weather, so I’m all yours now,” A smile from his lips that would light up a room, your own personal pocket of sunshine.

“But why are you home so early?” He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“I don’t feel to good,”. Not telling him about your sickness, he didn’t need to know about that.

“Well it’s a good thing I’m home! Let me look after you,”.

He ran you a bath, heavy essences of lavender filled your home as the salts mixed in with the hot water. He held you close to his chest as you sat between his legs, massaging bubbles into your skin as he bathed your body with gentle touches. The brush of the clothed towel was pleasantry, letting the exhaustion win you over as Kiro carried you to bed. One hand pressed flat on his chest as your cheek pressed over his heart, the sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

You awoke to a horrific scent, one that bad your toes curl and the hairs inside your nose burn. Whatever Kiro was doing, it toyed with your sense of smell, the wrenched feeling of throwing up happening again.

Kiro dashed into the bathroom after hearing your sobs, stroking your back softly and whispering sweet words of reassurance.

“Your probably just over worked, I know how hard you push yourself,” His voice weathering slightly, the slight knotting of his brow.

“Is this why you came home early?”.

You answered in silence, a nod speaking for you.

“Is it… that time?” He asked bashfully as you gave another nod.

“What was you making?” Pulling yourself away from the toilet and leaning back against the wall.

“Your favourite of course! Them chocolate pop tarts,” His voice soft and gentle, his thumb stroking over yours.

“What did you do? Burn them?”.

“Silly Miss.Chips,” He chuckles and playfully rubbed your head, “You should know I’m a master at making them,”.

“But they smelt awful, that’s what made me sick,” Taking a few deep breaths, trying to clear your mind of the smell before you threw up again.

“How dare your nose betray your stomach like that!” He laughs, standing up and picking you up, carrying you bridal style back to bed, “You must be really unwell if you can’t eat your favourite treat,”.

He tucked you into bed, bring you a hot water bottle as he stroked your hair.

“Miss.Chips?”

“Yes Kiro?” You already knew what he was about to say.

“So since your not going to eat them pop tarts…” He sang sweetly.

“Fine, I guess you can have them,” A laughing sigh followed you response.

You spent the rest of the evening in bed, playing video games together, as always Kiro player one and you player two.

—

A week on and you hadn’t improved, in fact you were vomiting now every morning and Kiro’s concern was growing.

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” You tried to play it off but the way you dashed to the bathroom in a hurry, hand clutched over your mouth as you speed from the living room in a bolt of lightning.

“Miss.Chips I’m worried about you,” The tremor in his eyes made your heart melt.

“I’m fine,”.

“Miss.Chips”.

“It’s nothing,”.

“Bella…” He only called your name when he was serious.

But it wasn’t fine and you both knew it. You could have blamed it on your period as you originally had done so but the fact of the matter was you were late, your heart stammering. You were never late, regular as clockwork when it came to your periods so all of this lit your nerves on fire.

It frightened you to admit it but there was a possibility you could be pregnant, the symptoms all lined up and accidents can happen. It wasn’t as if Kiro and you hadn’t been spending every minute of free time after he came back from a tour ravishing each other.

“I’m late,” The words that had been harbouring in your mind for the last several days finally came a shore.

“But we’re not going anywhere?” The purity and innocence radiated off him as his slight delay in understand what you meant

A cocked eyebrow from you, the silence before a dropping gasp, penny dropping.

“Are you-“.

“I don’t know,” You cutting him off before he could finish his sentence, taking deep strides to pull you close.

“Do you think-“.

“I don’t know,”.

The pounding of heartbeats could be heard through both of your ears, an undoubtable flood excitement lingered in the air between you.

“Do you want to-“ He started, bringing a finger to your lip to halt your words.

“Do you want to find out?” His words laced with nerves but the calmness stayed in-control in his eyes and all you could do was nod in response, finding yourself lost in the hazy shade of blue.

—

The tears of pure joy and happiness range through your home that night. Joy that neither party could exchange in words to find out that player three had joined the game.

#mlqc #mlqc gavin #mr love queen's choice gavin #mr love bai qi #mlqc kiro #mr love kiro #mlqc zhou qiluo #mlqc zhou qiluo #mlqc fluff #mlqc headcanon #birdcop celebration #birdcopcelebration

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z3ld4 · 4 years

Text

Mercy Me - Part One

Summary: Jacqueline Laymore can’t really tell when it started to hurt to call Spencer her friend. But that didn’t really matter after she got kidnapped. Right now all that matters is getting home and getting Spencer Reid.

Warnings: Angsty? Mentions of self harm, suicidal ideation, death, kidnapping, is catholic guilt a warning? culty vibes, mentions of torture, and a very small mention of rape and gouging one’s eyes out.

Word Count: 1.3k (its a babey for the first part)

A/N: this is one of my first fanfictions on tumblr and in this fandom, so idk be nice or like really mean, criticize me, i don’t really mind. i used to write aphmau fanfiction nothing really hurts at this point. also this is an original female character fic because i for real can not write fic in the y/n format and i’ve had this idea for a while. it took a lot of effort to post this without puking in anxiety first but i hope it goes well ig.

If Jacqueline was going to die right then and there, she would have frankly been pissed. Sitting in the bathtub with blood seeping out of shallow cuts on her thighs would not be a great way to go. It’s especially stupid because they weren’t even new. Jacqueline knew better than to cut in the tub.

Especially since she’d been clean before the incident.

She wondered if that was the time to back up and take a second to think. Think about her wrongdoings.

Of course, Gabriel doesn’t give her the release of death and instead shot himself in the neck. Her eyes, always the worst part of her body, follow the arterial spray as it stains the yellowing ceilings. She almost wants to take the revolver and shoot herself in the head, but that would contaminate the crime scene.

Jacqueline is smarter than that. But the revolver is so close to her. Yet just out of reach.

Everything seems to be just out of reach when you’re kidnapped.

But everything is moot compared to the digging feeling in her stomach telling her that the gun still has five more rounds.

She doesn’t. Of course, there is more to her life than being a martyr for another’s sins. That isn’t what Father Julien said when she was younger, but Father Julian also tried to gouge out her eyes in the town square.

Father Julian did a lot of things, talking about the grace of God wasn’t one of them. But what can you really expect from a man that creates a psychopath? Jacqueline dug the heels of her hands into her eyes, creating swirling patterns behind her eyelids. Phosphenes. She can hear him say it. Spencer always made sure to tell her the weirdest facts he could remember. She can’t remember most of them but sometimes his voice pops up in her head reminding her of them.

A lot of things pop up in Jacqueline’s head these days. She smoothed her hair back with the water on her hands and stepped awkwardly out of the tub. Taking two towels from the rack on the wall, she wrapped up her hair and body. Carefully stepping around Gabriel’s body and blood pool she enters the bedroom. For a cheap motel, it was quite clean. Frankly, it wouldn’t be half bad if the carpet wasn’t a brown color and she didn’t come with the guy who kidnapped her. She dug through Gabriel’s luggage until she found yet another, white cotton sundress. It wasn’t a bad dress, quite pretty in reality. It was the situation that made it the ugliest rag Jacqueline had ever seen. It fell to just below her knees and the bodice fit her waist perfectly, the spaghetti straps dug into her shoulders but it could have been much, much worse.

Jacqueline would have liked the dress in another life. However, Gabriel had a thing for the whole ‘white equals purity’ thing and tortured her in a dress similar to the one she was putting on.

She stopped putting the dress on. Blinking through the tears forming in her line of sight, Jacqueline searches for a shirt and a pair of pants that could maybe fit her. She found Gabriel’s taupe button-up and slipped it over her shoulders, buttoning the front up to the third button. After digging a little more she finds a pair of army green pants, a little too high waisted for such a masculine man but she puts them on. Luckily Gabriel also had a pair of hiking boots which Jacqueline took the shoelace out of and used it as a belt.

The sandals that she wore when out with Gabriel would have to do, though it looked a little silly. Jacqueline took her hair out of the towel and ruffled it up a little, she always hated leaving her thick, wavy hair without product in it but it’s better than brushing it. The bangs brushing against the bridge of her nose are going to make her cry though. She used to hate how she looked in bangs but now, with Gabriel’s praises ringing in her ears, she almost likes the way they frame her face.

Almost.

Jacqueline grabbed Gabriel’s wallet on the way out of their hotel room.

The secretary looked at Jacqueline funny as she checked out. Granted, it was well deserved, Jacqueline looked like a mess of men’s clothing. She also was leaving without Gabriel, which sounded a little unheard of considering he didn’t even let her speak when they checked in.

Jacqueline wanted to call the police so the maid didn’t get a nasty surprise. She didn’t have a phone on her but she walked to the payphone on the street corner and quickly called 911.

“Hi, Hello. Y-yes… I… I need to report a suicide at Maple Leaf Motel, room 3C. My… My p-partner shot himself in the neck!” She wailed into the phone before hanging up. She was always good at faking things. Right now, faking composure seems to be the only thing keeping her sane.

Time to catch a flight to Quantico, Virginia.

Or, more likely, hitchhike. If there was anything Jacqueline had learned in her nine years with the BAU is to not hitchhike. But she had about two hundred and fifty dollars and the clothes on her back. And if anything she could pay for some gas and maybe use the self-defense that Morgan taught her. She knew that from where she was it would be around twenty days by foot. A twenty-hour car ride. And maybe a five-hour flight depending on the airport. The closest 'big' town near Maple Leaf was Lexington.

And deep down, Jacqueline really wanted to take a road trip. Nebraska is quite a pretty state. Though walking would be a little excessive considering she's technically been off for two months already.

The fact that she’d been with Gabriel for two months sent shivers down Jacqueline’s spine. The bureau wouldn't take her vacation days away for being kidnapped but you never really know with the government, do you? She started walking to the library when she realized that she could email Strauss and talk about her job and how fast she can be reinstated. Luckily the library was a few blocks down the street.

"Hello, dear! What can I help you with today?" The elderly woman behind the help desk smiled. Jacqueline figured that they didn't get that many people inside the small library.

Jacqueline forced a smile and walked up to the desk, "Can I use one of the computers? I need to email my boss about my... vacation."

The librarian gives Jacqueline a sugary sweet smile. "May I, Deary," The librarian corrected.

"Right," Jacqueline drawls. The librarian walked her to a clunky old computer and logged on before shoving Jacqueline down into the seat. Jacqueline goes through google to find her email service and quickly write one to Strauss. Strauss responded quickly, a short email reading:

Dear Agent Laymore,

You're thought to be dead. I can not grant you the ability to step into your building for recertification and discussions of reinstating you until you prove otherwise.

Erin Strauss

Jacqueline responded:

Dear Erin,

You're supposed to be nicer to people who are held as a hostage. Anyways, I guess a way to prove my identity would be that I can sing 'On My Own' from Les Mis perfectly, I know you have heard me do it. And that your husband divorced you after he gave you half of his liver due to your liver cirrhosis. You told me this one night when I was crying over my brother killing himself and getting disowned. I am the only person on the current team (I assume, though I'm sure Rossi knows ;D) who has that information on you.

With love,

Dr. Jacqueline Laymore PsyD

Ps. Please don't give my job away because I made a joke.

Erin responded with a very annoyed emailing detailing what they will discuss once Jacqueline reaches Quantico. With a valid ID of course.

Now the hard part, finding someone who wasn't a serial killer to hitchhike with. For at least twenty-four hours. In a car.

Spencer's voice called out in the back of Jacqueline's head, reminding her that there is a 0.0000086% of being killed or raped while hitchhiking.

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peterspideyy · 4 years

Text

chapter 9 - partners in crime

series masterlist

————

“understand the plan?” harrison asked, to both of you.

“yep.” you replied, popping to ‘p’, before placing the earpiece in your left ear, while tom did the same. harrison spoke ‘testing’ into the microphone connected to your earpiece, while you and tom gave a thumbs up to him, signalling how you can hear him.

“right, press this button,” harrison spoke, pointing at a black button on the ring-shaped device, “before the signals go off, and you should be able to hear us still.”

“should?” you shouted, looking at tom.

“you will, you will, don’t worry.” he replied, looking at the camera. you were all in a run down van (curtesy of the fbi of course), outside the ceremony’s entrance, where the whole team was listening and watching the dragons every move. as well as yours and tom’s. after harrison handed you the device, you slipped it on your finger, while tom rubbed your back. you don’t know why, but you always get nervous before a big mission. even though, you’ve been doing this for a long time, you still can’t help the butterflies form in the bottom of your stomach.

“it’s go time, ladies and gentlemen.” harrison spoke, with a slight accent making you and tom roll your eyes, before you both jumped down, tom helping you out.

“shall we go, mrs kingston.” he laughed, linking arms with you.

“we shall, mr kingston.” you replied, giggling slightly, as you walked up the steps towards the enterance.

after giving the security guard your ticket, you walked in, still linked with tom, to take in the spectacular room infront of you. the chandelier above you, glistened in the light, causing it to reflect of the marbel walls surrounding you, creating freckles of rainbow in various places. the music was low and calming, with the laughter and clinking of glasses being the only thing you could hear. you saw some agents already in the hall, who all put there wrist to there mouth to signal that you were both inside. you saw tom reach over, and collect you both champagne.

“to new beginnings.” he smiled, clinking his glass with yours.

“new beginnings.” you replied with the same action, before you both sipped the drink.

“what does that mean?” you heard harrison speak through the earpiece, making you and tom chuckle slightly, as he ruined your moment.

“come on let’s dance, yeah?” tom whispered, making you nod, as he gently took you over to where a group of people were already dancing with their significant other. you placed your hands on tom’s shoulders, while his where on your waist, before you moved your feet in the beat of the music. placing your head in tom’s neck, you breathed in heavily, allowing tom’s aftershave to calm you down.

“you look gorgeous, you know?” you felt him whisper, making you smile against his suit. you did feel gorgeous, which was a first as your not really one to get dressed up. the silk burgundy dress fit your curves, perfectly. it wasn’t revealing, but very flattering. you traced tom’s tie, which was burgundy, smiling widely at him.

“you don’t look too bad yourself.” you giggled, looking at him in his suit, which made him look even more handsome if that was possible.

tom laughed, allowing his head to fall back, before meeting your gaze again. you both got lost in each other’s eyes, and before you could even do anything, tom’s lips where against yours for a quick peck. you blushed at the action, desperately wanting his lips on yours for longer, but harrison’s gagging through the comms cut you off. again.

“save it for the honeymoon guys.”

you felt tom tense at his words, making you frown in confusion, but brushed it off.

minutes passed, and you and tom danced, while waiting for the dragons signal.

“tom,” you mumbled, making him hum, “somethings wrong.”

tom lifted his head up from your neck, “what do you mean, darling?”

“they should of signalled us by now.” you spoke, pointing up to the first floor where one of keith’s men should be. but it was empty.

“harrison,” tom whispered, while he said yes through the comms, “do you know where they are?”

“they’re there, tom.”

“well, they aren’t. so where the fuck are they?” tom whisper shouted, while you placed a hand on his bicep, trying to calm him down.

“says how they’re all outside the presidents room.”

“that’s not part of the plan.” you mumbled, while tom nodded.

“right where going up. press the ring, y/n.” tom spoke, while you did so, before you both went upstairs to the presidents room. arriving in a couple of minutes, you both got your guns out, while you pressed your ear against the door, to hear anything. closing your eyes, you tried to listen, but when you couldn’t, you signalled to tom how you’ll go in on a count of three.

“1.” you whispered.

“2.” tom replied.

“3.” you both spoke, before slamming the door open, to be met with an empty room.

“there’s no one here.” you breathed out, putting your gun away. turning to tom, he nodded before looking at you or more behind you. suddenly, his eyes went wide.

“y/n!”

before you could reply, you where knocked out by an object hitting the back of your head, with the last thing you saw was tom lying by you, unconscious as well.

————

you woke up. not completely though. it was still dark. opening your eyes, you winced at the sudden brightness, before closing them again. memories flooding back from what happened, flashed through your mind. you remember going into the presidents room. you remember being knocked out. you remember...tom. you shot your eyes open.

you were in a room, with the dragons surrounding you, while keith held a gun to your head, with his finger on the trigger. you tried to get away, but failed as you felt restrictions to your body. looking down, you saw how you were tied to a chair, via your wrists and ankles. glancing up at the gun, you tried to speak but filed again, as your words came out muffled, behind the masking tape.

“nice for you to finally wake up, y/n.” keith whispered, making you eyes go wide as he spoke your real name.

you tried to reply, but remembered you couldn’t, before he ripped off the tape, making you wince at the sudden sting. breathing out, you looked at him.

“where’s tom?” you whispered, still feeling weak from being unconscious.

he moved out the way, to reveal tom on his knees. but, you noticed how unlike you, he was beaten pretty bad, with fresh wounds of blood and bruises covering his face. he smiled at you weakly, before one of the men punched him in the stomach, making him spit blood out onto the floor. your stomach churned, as you screamed. begged, for them to stop.

“erm, how about no.” he laughed, before throwing tom into a chair by you, while other men tied him up, like you. glancing at him, you silently asked him if he was okay, while he nodded slightly in return.

“stop this now! they were only doing there job!” a man spoke next to you, and when you looked at him, your eyes went wide.

“mr president, are you okay?” you asked him, while he nodded, smiling at you slightly.

“we’re going to get out of this sir.” tom added, while you all looked back at keith who was laughing.

“wow! that was really touching.” he said, sarcastically of course.

“what do you want?”

“what i want, darling, is for you to finish the fucking plan, without your agents swarming the place.” he shouted, shooting his gun at the ceiling.

“we can’t do that.” tom mumbled, making kieth snap his head towards him. walking dangerously slow to him, he pressed the gun to his shoulder, before pulling the trigger, while tom let out a heart-wrenching scream.

“you’ll fucking do it though, or i’ll shoot a bit to the left, yeah?” he whispered, tracing the gun over his skin where his heart would be underneath. walking away, you turned to tom looking at how much blood was oozing out.

“if you don’t let me help him, he’ll bleed to death, and then none of us can help you.” you begged, panic rising.

keith turned to you, “no tricks?”

“no tricks.”

he nodded, before men behind you untied your wrists and ankles. then, you where putting pressure on tom’s shoulder in an instant, while kissing him cheek to help his pain. he brought his thumb up weakly, and brushed away a tear from the corner of your eye.

“i’m okay.” he croaked.

“don’t ever do that again.” you sighed, leaning your forehead against his, as you stared deeply in each other’s eyes.

“even though the relationship was fake, i always knew the love wasn’t.” kieth spoke behind you, making you both look at him, cautiously.

applying tape to the towel, as your hand started to ache, you sat down next to tom, with your hand on his thigh, gently massaging it, while he breathed in and out hoarsely. this wasn’t supposed to be how you started your lives together. you just wanted the plan to go smoothly. suddenly, you remembered how you still had an earpiece in.

“i need to use the bathroom.” you lied, but they seemed to believe you as five men took you to it, making you chuckle. opening the door, you noticed how men followed you, making you cringe.

“i think i deserve some privacy, yeah?”

the men looked at each other and then you, before leaving silently.

“harrison? harrison? pick up it’s-“

“y/n!” you heard over the comms.

“oh my god!” you sighed, glad you still have communication from the outside.

“what happened? i couldn’t hear you for ages!”

“me and tom went up to the presidents room, and then they knocked us out and tied us up, with the president. then kieth shot tom in the shoulder, so i patched him up, and right now i’m in the bathroom as i remembered the earpiece.” you whispered, starting to feel stressed.

“okay, okay, calm down. we’ll get a team in, in 20 minutes, okay?”

“20 minutes? a lot can happen in 20 minutes!”

“well, distract them, do anything to keep them there.”

you looked at yourself in the mirror, “tom, might not have that time. he needs a proper stitch up.”

“well, do it.”

your eyes went wide, “i’m not a fucking doctor, harrison.”

you heard him laugh, making you grow angrier, “you don’t need to be a doctor to stitch up. you did first aid training, didn’t you? that will be the perfect thing, to stall them for 20 minutes. it’s the earliest we can get them in.”

“okay. will you keep on letting me know how long we have left?”

“will do, partner!”

“tom’s my partner.”

“ouch.”

you laughed, “don’t worry, you’ll find someone.”

“y/n?”

“yes?” you asked, waiting for him to continue.

“don’t die.”

“thanks, that’s really the advice i need.” you sighed, before saying bye and leaving the bathroom, with the men following behind you.

arriving back in the room, you noticed a first aid kit. collecting it, you walked over to tom, who had his eyes closed, but when you stroked his hair, they fluttered open, while he grinned.

“what took you so long?” he whispered.

“just talking to your best friend.” you smiled, while he knew what you meant by that.

“how long?”

“20 ish.” you replied, while tom nodded.

“what are you doing?” kieth asked, gesturing to the first aid kit.

“well, i’m saving him.” you shrugged, while getting a wipe to start cleaning the wound, while tom hissed in pain.

“hurry up. we haven’t got all day!”

“we have. take your time.” a voice spoke, making you look up and see a faint outline of a figure in the darkness. you pierced your eyes, to try and see who it was, as you are sure you recognised the voice from somewhere. but, you don’t know where you did.

“no, we haven’t. soon, the fbi is going to realise they’re not coming back, and then they’ll arrest us!” keith gritted.

“they won’t, because i’ll tell them not to.” the figure replied, before they stepped into the light. yours and toms breath hitched. your eyes went wide, as you couldn’t believe who it was. who the mole was. you would of never of guessed it was him.

“carson?”

————

a/n- one more chapter, and we’ll find out what happens! did you have an idea carson was the mole? will you all get out in 20 minutes?

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