#and the reasoning is real simple: they both had stressful jobs with long hours and would stress eat

[frankbelloriley]

My mom's been in town for a few days, and we got into an argument because I insisted she (and my dad) put me into Jenny Craig as a fat teenager (which is why I don't like diet programs and they do not work for me) and she's insistent that she never did. And I'm just like...I don't have body dysmorphia for no reason, chief.

[usagiarchive]

as long as you love me — 03 — SEEDS Ship 06

vash the stampede (tristamp) x f!reader

"as long as you love me, we could be starving, we could be homeless, we could be broke,"

⌒⊹˚୨୧ prev / masterlist / next / wattpad / ao3 ୨୧˚⊹⌒

⌒⊹˚୨୧ INTRODUCTION: 03 — SEEDS Ship 06 WORDCOUNT: 3.5k words CHAPTER SUMMARY: the very first mission.

You knew the desert was hot, but you didn’t actually think it would be this hot!

It was only the first few hours into your amazing new journey and already, you were starting to dread it. Vash was a few steps in front of you riding his own Thoma, you were riding your own.

“What is that?!” you asked, perturbed, seeing the creature in front of you, “What, a Thoma?” Vash had answered as he loaded his and your stuff on the creatures.

“That’s what those dodo-looking lizard things are called?” you asked again and the blond only laughed at your question.

Now, it seemed funny to you that Vash was ahead of you, considering only a few hours ago, you were the one most excited about this.

“I’ll be fine Xanther, stop worrying!” you remembered telling your friends when they told you you could still back out of it and you swatting their hands away as they doted on you like a child.

In a way, you were their child, even back at the academy. You weren’t incapable, yes, but you found that your friends often did things for you, even something as simple as opening your water bottle for you or feeding you spoons of food while you studied.

They always took care of you…

Luida told you events of what happened while you were asleep, too. She told you how Xanther and Ynez blamed themselves for what happened, “I should’ve dragged her to her room,” was what Ynez said, and “I never should’ve left her alone,” was Xanther’s.

It was neither their fault. They both knew that.

But human emotion was a terribly amazing poison to the rational mind. And no one can escape it.

“The two were on a long slump for a long while,” Luida had said, “Ynez requested to be frozen until you were awake, but Brad and I disapproved,” her lips pursing, “It always hurt me when we saw the look in her eyes after every annual PLANT check-up, the way she always bolts to the medbay and comes back looking so empty,”

Your heart felt tight against your chest as Luida continued to tell you stories of how Xanther and Ynez and the crew you were close with coped with your sudden disappearance.

The real reason Xanther grew out his hair, the way Ethan always visits you even though he really doesn’t like the antiseptic smell of the medbay just to always leave flowers on your side table, the way Niña always made sure to move your body on time, never missing her rounds, even when she got sick, which led her to be frozen for some time until she passed.

(a/n: no, they did not kill Niña with the cryo chamber, she died because her body couldn’t handle the stress of everything, remember Niña was a nurse so she was the one who took care of all the survivors Brad and Luida found, she overworked herself to the point of getting sick and burning out, and then she worried about not being able to do her job right and possibly failing as a nurse, so her body gave out and she requested to be frozen to give her body time to rest, a sub taking her place until the next annual PLANT checkup, unfortunately, her body did not survive during it, rip Niña.)

“Ynez may not show it, but I knew she was the one who took it the hardest, she always strived to be the one who does the most, I think she did it so you wouldn’t worry about your own work when you came back,”

After Luida left, you found your eyes stinging, you couldn’t breathe properly and you kept taking short gasps of breath as you willed your voice not to make a sound.

You know you shouldn’t cry over spilled milk, but you can’t help it.

Human emotion is a terribly amazing poison to the rational mind. And no one can escape it. Not even you.

You willed yourself to be stronger, to do more, to be more, so that all of Ynez’s efforts won’t go in vain, so that Xanther wouldn’t have to constantly worry over you anymore, so that Luida and Brad and all of the crew members you loved wouldn’t have to think of caring for a single person like you and put their own wellbeings aside.

So you can make your parents proud.

The stinging of your eyes reminded you of where you are, right, I’m in the desert, I shouldn’t cry, it’s a waste of body fluids and water, I could get dehydrated, you thought as you shook your head and wiped your eyes with the sleeves of your jacket.

You then notice Vash looking back at you and you tilted your head, “Is something wrong, Vash?” you asked as you caught up with him, the two of you now riding your Thomas side-by-side.

He looked like he was going to say as he opened his mouth, but then he shook his head, “No, it’s nothing,”

Neither of you bothered to fill the growing uncomfortable silence. Only the wind and trudging of the Thoma’s hooves against the hot sand were heard.

This was the first time it had been like this with Vash, he was usually very chatty, talking about anything and everything, this was the first time he had been so pensive and quiet, you wonder if you’d done something wrong.

You decided that maybe he was just scared of what was out here, maybe he, too, was unsure.

But deep down, something was telling you that wasn’t it.

Shrugging the thoughts away, you decided to give him a few hours or so to sort things out maybe he was also going through some internal conflict just like you were, earlier. But when three hours have passed and you didn’t get even a single word out of him, you decided to poke the bee’s hive.

You sped your own Thoma up and blocked his, he looked surprised, confused, even, “Hey, what are you do-”

“What’s wrong?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Vash, you’ve been quiet for hours, you keep looking over your shoulder to look at me, and every time you do, there’s this look on your face I can’t quite explain! You keep opening your mouth to say something, but you never do, so now I’m asking you, what’s wrong?” you finished with a huff.

The blond looked down, fisting the Thoma’s reigns in his hands as he pursed his lips.

“It’s nothing…”

You groaned, “Oh, come on, Vash! If it’s bothering you this much, tell me! You can’t ask me to come with you on a potentially life-threatening mission and not communicate with me when you think something is wrong! Come on, where’s the guy who talked about everything with me back on the ship?”

He stayed silent, you didn’t know if he was thinking of an answer to your question or if he was just plain out ignoring it.

Wait-

“Is it me?” you asked quietly, worry seeping into the cracks of your voice.

Quickly, Vash moved his arms a lot, “No! No! It’s not bad- I mean, it is about you, but it isn’t anything bad! I just- I think it’s unfair for you because you have your friends to come home to, and they obviously don’t want you to leave and I made you come with me on this stupid mission-” he rambled.

You were about to cut him off and answer about how 1. It wasn’t unfair to you because you agreed, 2. He also has friends to come home to on the ship, Luida and Brad are practically his parents, too, and 3. This mission wasn’t stupid.

But none of that happened anyway when you heard a ringing noise in your ear, it made your head hurt with how loud it was, it felt like whatever was ringing was physically inside your ears, it made you clutch your head and shut your eyes to try and alleviate the pain.

“…. we’re only a … miles away from… -me, … -ould… go back… sure your… -iss you, … -eally, i’m so… -ryy… never…thought… okay… don’t have to… really,”

You could still hear Vash rambling but it seemed so far away, the ringing sound screaming into your eardrums, you felt like you were gonna go deaf.

When it quieted down a bit, you opened your eyes only to find Vash’s face in disarray, looking somewhere at the sea of sand before you.

“Are you okay, Vash? What’s wrong?” you found yourself asking him even though your head was still hurting.

Slowly, he tore away his gaze from the sand and looked at you.

“It’s the PLANT, I can hear it, and it’s in danger,”

The two of you raced to where the PLANT was or where Vash was leading the two of you, the second he told you what was wrong, he kept mumbling that he got to go and went running off, looking as if he was in pain.

You followed suit, not wanting to be left alone in the sweltering desert, but also not wanting to leave Vash alone.

The Thoma thumped against the sand for a quarter of an hour before you saw something in the distance, and at that point, the ringing got louder. You sucked in a breath at the pain. It was like you got shot in the head with how intense the pain got.

As you got even closer, you could finally see what was written on the outside of the ship, SEEDS 06. It was a ship’s PLANT, you realized.

“Vash!” you yelled, and he looked back, his Thoma still going as fast as it could, you urged yours to catch up to his and it did, the two of you squinting so that none of the sand particles would get into your eyes.

“It’s the PLANT!” he yelled as you both got closer to the ship, gradually slowing down to not crash into the docked ship.

Thankfully, the stationed guards already saw the two of you from afar and were ready to meet you at the ramp. They were going to apprehend both of you at first (understandably, because they were uninvited guests tbh), but proceeded to give you access to the ship once they saw yours and Vash’s jackets.

The reflective fabric of the patches on your right sleeves, one that showed that both of you were from a SEEDS ship, too.

“I’m a Military PLANT Engineer,” you explained, “So is he,” you jabbed a finger in Vash’s direction as he smiled nervously when the guards asked what you were here for.

They let you both in and you wanted to lay on the cold floor of the ship, the temperature helping alleviate your headache, even though the ringing became more amplified.

Vash bolted, though, so you followed after him once more, knowing wherever he’ll go, that’s where the PLANT’ll be. He took multiple turns, left, right, right, left, right. And at the end of it all, you found Ship 06’s PLANT deck.

It had been exactly like your experience, all the engineers gathered around, not knowing what to do, everyone murmuring and talking about what to do amongst themselves as the lights glowed red over the PLANT.

Vash got over his panting quickly and was shoving people out of the way to get to the PLANT console when he was stopped.

“Hey, who are you and how did you get into the ship?” A man asked, hand on Vash’s chest to prevent him from coming any closer.

You quickly made your way to the front, snatching your ID out of your shirt and showing it to the man.

“I’m Y/n L/n from Ship 03, Military PLANT Engineer, this is Vash, he’s also a PLANT Engineer, we’ve come to assist this ship’s PLANT,”

The man took your ID and his eyes widened, hand on Vash’s chest loosening and falling to his side, “You’re L/n? The kid who fell into the PLANT tank?” he asked and whispers sprouted once more around the PLANT deck.

It was the same scenario all over again and it made your head throb even more, the ringing switched to your left ear only now and it was incessant.

You nodded and he held his hand out, “Welcome to Ship 06, I’m Gerard Lim, Doctor L/n, we are grateful for you and Doctor Vash’s assistance, how may we help?”

Vash wanted to correct the man but you shook your head at him and he nodded, “Let Vash have access to the console, hand me the reports from the last five annual reports and the last three weekly reports on the PLANT’s biodata,”

The PLANT engineers stepped aside to let Vash do his job and you stepped to the console as you reviewed the reports given to you. You winced as another wave of pulsing in your head and a loud shrill ringing noise passed through you.

There was definitely something wrong with you. No one else in the room seemed to notice it or hear it, too.

You looked up for a moment when the room erupted into gasps and you saw the unfurled PLANT coming closer to the glass where Vash has his forehead pressed with his eyes closed.

Your knees weaken and you grip the handrail, keeping yourself upright as you shut your eyes again, gripping the files in your hand to make sure they don’t fall, as you wait for the ringing to calm down.

When it did, you open your eyes to see Vash running to you, “It’s not her, it’s the tank,” he said as soon as he was close enough that only the two of you can hear, you look back and the PLANT is already furling around itself, returning to its usual form.

You nod at him, “Let’s get to work, then,” and he looks to the side as he sheepishly rubs his neck, “I’m, tank management isn’t my specialty,” he admitted and you could only nod, surprised.

“Ah, well, I’ll get to work, then,” you smiled, but you could feel it forming into a slight wince, one that Vash caught on to.

“Hey, you, alright?” he asked, very concerned, and you could only nod, this was turning into a migraine and you were about to puke your guts out any minute now.

“I’m fine, just a migraine,” you told him and you swear if he had ears it would’ve already been flat against his head.

You waved him off, “I’ll be fine, Vash, really, it’ll be quick fixing the tank,”

It was not ‘quick’ fixing the tank.

It took a total of more than two hours to return the PLANT to its normal state. Apparently, the programming and wiring of the tank was wrong and you spent the better first hour and a half of it trying to find the error, God, you hated coding.

The mistake in question was a mismatched and misplaced code in the flow of tank fluid going in and out of the tank, a mistake on the ship’s engineers’ part. You had to reprogram it and fix the wiring on the tank.

It was times like these when you missed your team, it seemed like on Ship 06, there was a bit of chaos and no one knew how to help, all of them in a panic.

Throughout the whole process, you felt like you were going to pass out any second, but you couldn’t, you couldn’t let yourself not finish the job.

Vash watched you as you worked the whole time, he was constantly asking if you were okay, to which you always replied ‘I’m fine, Vash,’, not that he was convinced, but he did try to help and was learning only from watching you.

When the light finally switched back to their blue color, the blond thanked you profusely and you shook him off, telling him it was your job and it was the right thing to do.

“I owe you two favors now!” he insisted and you could only laugh at him.

The engineers of the ship thank you and again, you brush them off, saying it was nothing. “I now see why you graduated Valedictorian from your class!” one of them said and you could only smile sheepishly.

That’s when you notice the ringing was gone and so was your migraine.

Weird, you thought.

“Excuse me, can I see your ship’s doctor?” you asked one of the women, Nancy, whom you’ve befriended just minutes ago.

“Oh, of course! I’ll come with,” she said and led the way.

A hand grabbed yours.

Vash.

“Where are you going?”

“Medbay,”

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, “I am, Vash, I just want to see the doctor for some pain relievers, maybe even a CT scan, now that I think about it,”

Vash put a hand on your back and started walking, “I’ll come with,”

“I did promise Doctor Trinh and Doctor Durand, after all,”

The CT scan turned out okay, so did all your tests, you were perfectly normal. The doctor had guessed that maybe it was some kind of response to the temperature or that your body was adjusting and this was only a side effect, something that worried Vash, but the doctor assured him that it was perfectly normal for humans.

He seemed less stressed after that.

The ship offered the two of you sleeping chambers for the night, to which you both gratefully accepted. Both of you set to leave the morning after, the post-success excitement and joy hitting only now.

“Of course! We can’t let our saviors leave without a good night’s rest, especially you, Doctor L/n! I mean, excuse my language, but holy shit! Getting to meet someone like you? One of the best PLANT engineers? This is an incredible dream!” A young woman, Claudine, fawned over you.

You could only blush, “Thanks, it’s nothing,” you brushed off again.

She left shortly, a very energetic person, you noted.

And then, it was just you and Vash.

The two of you sat in the cafeteria, eating your meals, when he broke the silence, “Sooo… what’s this about being the best?” he started.

You tilted your head, “Huh?”

“You know!” he motioned to you, “I’ve been hearing it since we got on the PLANT deck, everyone was whispering about you! Not that they were good at whispering though,” he laughed a little at the end.

“Ah, that’s nothing,” you shrugged and swallowed your water down.

“Nothing? But you’re all everyone talks about, come onnn, I wanna know the context!” he whined and you laughed again.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” you snickered behind your bowl of soup and he pouted and pointed a finger at you, “Hey, I’m older than you!”

An eyebrow raised at his claim, “Excuse you? I’m older than you, kiddo, you may look all grown up, but you’re quite literally only in your early 60’s,” you slapped his finger away, “I, on the other hand, while I may look like someone in her mid-20’s, I am literally 80 years old,”

“So that,” you pointed your spoon at him, “makes me older than you by 20-ish years, give or take,” you concluded.

The pout he had grew even bigger, it was adorable, really. “Aw, man, I can’t fight you on this, you’re too smart for me,” he sulked.

You flicked a rice grain at him, “Cheer up, pretty boy, at least you’ll live far longer, I’m only human after all,” you shrugged and he whined, his ears red.

“First of all don’t call me that! It makes me feel tingly, stop it!” He pointed a finger, again, “And second, don’t remind me how short human life is! I’m really gonna cry,”

You snorted at his reaction, “First of all, it’s rude to point fingers,” you slapped his hand away, again, “And second, why not accept reality, it’s not like we can change something inevitable,”

The two of you fell into silence after that, but a comfortable silence, the type where you know Vash is thinking about what you just said. You continued to finish your food as you waited for him to pick up the conversation again.

Vash had already finished his food, so he was just waiting for you.

When you had drank the last of your water and put your utensils back onto the tray neatly, Vash took both your trays and stood up, you do the same as you both walked to the dish deposit.

The blond still hasn’t replied but it wasn’t uncomfortable anymore, and the two of you walked back to the designated room given to you by the ship’s captain, MJ, in complete silence and you strangely didn’t feel an ounce of worry.

When you were about to close the door to your room, Vash spoke up.

“Reality is something we can’t change,” you turned to him as he spoke, “And I know we have to accept it whether we like it or not, but it doesn’t mean that I can’t ignore it for even just a moment,”

You could only smile at him and his words. You know the feeling. Knowing that everyone will leave someday, even if it isn’t by death, is a hard pill to swallow, but it is the truth.

“Goodnight, Vash,” you said softly.

He met your eyes with a sad smile.

“Goodnight, Doctor L/n,”

usagi's note: thank you for waiting on this chapter! took me a while to post because i had to study for our 2 hour tests TT, all i hope is i pass, honestly... anyway, enjoy reading!! in the part where vash is talking and it comes out in '-ere' its because the ringing overtakes and is very loud to the point where reader can't make much sense of what he's saying. that's all! see you next week!

taglist is open! send an ask or just comment below!

@onixsn @sharkalina666

©usagiarchive 2023. do not copy or paraphrase, repost to other platforms, and translate without permission, thank you.

[meabh-mcinness]

Love Lost

The Naberius's were the clan of unwaveringly loyal guard dogs. Each and every member was raised with the strictest guidelines and expectancies, and those who failed were disgraced. The latest members were the elder brother Narnia and the younger brother Kalego. Both excelled and will excel at every challenge thrown their way, until Narnia didn't. One mistake led to a life of regret and a love lost. 

Warnings of light gore descriptions and raw meat consumption! Oh, and Angst!  With the latest chapter reveal, I really wanted to come up with a reason on why Narnia would recommend Atori and Shiida to Babyls, basically any reason other than him returning to origins. Also posted on AO3 and Wattpad!

A heavy sigh left full lips as pale, thin hands ran themselves through long black hair. He was tempted to rip it all out in his stress, but knew that it would do no good in the end. He couldn't believe he was doing this. Going against everything he was raised to do, sacrificing not only his pride and beliefs, but who knew how many lives along the way.

Was it worth it?

He honestly didn't know anymore. Before, he would have said no, no matter how much he loved anyone, he would never abandon his post as a loyal Naberius guard dog. No matter how much he disagreed with his family ways, he recognized and even enjoyed the mysteries and jobs that came his way as the Border Patrol's Special Security Chief.

But then he met them.

A real life human from the other realm. He'd known of their existence, of course. You couldn't be as high ranked as him in the Border Patrols system and not know of them, but he'd never met one. Realm crossings were incredibly rare, and despite his decades of service, he'd never seen a real one until they had come along.

His claws flexed at the thought of them again. He could see them now even, with their soft skin, glittering eyes and bright smile. It was like they had been designed to lure him in and lower his guard, only to snatch his heart and take it for their own. Inadvertently crushing it in the end, when... When they were ripped from his side and forced to leave.

That had been the worst day of his life.

The best day was a tie, between Kalego being born and meeting them for the first time. He could remember it so clearly.

He had been relatively new to his job at the time. Only three decades in and still getting the hang of all the different procedures for the hundreds of different kinds of cases, when Henry had pulled him aside to go on a raid. A quick raid and small paperwork, and then they could both go home. It had sounded rather promising, after all there was an Opera show that was supposed to on in an hour along with a bottle of nice wine chilling.

What should have been a relatively simple case of raid and detain, however, quickly turned more extreme when it was discovered the criminal in question had a living, breathing human hidden in his abode.

Undoubtedly, both Henry and him had been shocked when their head innocently popped up from a cauldron stacked in a far corner. Tears strolling down their face faster than any river could run, but with blood stains around their mouth and splattered across their face. At first, they didn't realize anything was different about them, just assumed that they were an intended victim or an accomplice. Judging by the torn flesh on the criminal, however, Narnia was inclined to believe the former.

After all, they only had the head to go by at first, and plenty of demons didn't have horns. One of little Kalego's allies was a prime example, the Balam's hadn't ever had horns as far as anyone knew.

With Henry playing with the perpetrator (the demon often used these cases to let off steam Narnia learned over time), he had walked over to this new demon, curious but careful. After all, this other being could still be a helper rather than a victim. Reaching out one of his own thin hands towards them, he could only blink as they flinched harshly and backed as far as they could in the tiny space. Tears still flowed, but they bared their teeth in a show of attempting to be fierce. With a raised eyebrow, he gave them a quick glance over, keeping his hand out calmly.

Despite being new, he had seen plenty of cases of demons reverting to base instincts in order to survive in dangerous situations. As long as this one hadn't returned to origins, they should quickly realize he meant no harm, or at least grow bored with posturing and either calm down or attempt to fight. Though, he had to wonder at why they hadn't backed down at the shiny Chet badge on his uniform or from the feel of his power leaking.

Except they didn't do either. They stayed in the same position, never wavering in keeping their teeth bared, muscles tensed, and eyes focused on him. Whenever Henry or his intended catch made a noise, they tensed slightly more and their eyes would twitch, as if stopping themselves from glancing at the aforementioned noise. Soon enough, when Narnia had given up with letting them move at their pace, he heard a particularly loud crack and yowl from the fight. It seemed Henry was growing bored with the brawl, but that hadn't been what caught his attention. The being in front of him had also clearly heard it with the way their ears had twitched.

Their very small, rounded ears.

Now that Narnia did another more careful once over, he noticed that their teeth while bared only had four very tiny canines, the rest rather blunt. And the hands that were braced lightly along the back of the cauldron rim (likely to prepare to lift their body out quickly at any moment) held no claws. At least he had never seen such thin, blunt claws before. There were no tails or horns, no spikes or fur, no scales or feathers in sight either. It was almost as if they weren't a demon, but rather a...

Oh. Oh, no.

He did not want to deal with this or the paperwork it would later involve. He could already feel the headache blooming and could kiss his relaxing evening goodbye. Unlike many of his comrades, he held no interest in the human race. As far as Narnia was concerned, they existed and belonged in their own world, and that was it. No other knowledge needed beyond that they were weak and very delicious according to the school song. Now, however, he was slightly wishing he had listened slightly when he overheard the little Balam kid going on one of his imaginary being rants.

After all, no one mentioned in any of his briefs or trainings on how to capture said rogue humans that stumbled into their world. Frantically, he racked his brain for any stray info he could find. Anything that the tiny gargoyle had said would be helpful right now. A peaceful world, one where there was no danger. At least non-comparable to the Netherworld, which would explain the lack of common defenses found here in demon-folk. Did they enjoy touch? No, that was a solid Balam thing, he was sure.

Well, he supposed it wouldn't hurt to try petting them, it could very well calm them down. Naberius's were far too proud to admit it, but a good scalp massage when they were alone was rather nice. Never mind their bonded Cerberions who would do anything for a good scratch, especially those middle heads, where the legs just couldn't seem to reach well.

Surely, humans would feel the same? Slowly, he moved his outstretched hand closer towards the human, aiming for the top of their head, much like he would his Cerberion or praising Kalego. The closer he got, though, the louder a rumbling sound seemed to reverberate from the creature before him. By the time he registered it as the human growling, it was too late. He'd gotten too close, and all of a sudden there was a mouth where his fingers were supposed to be and hands grasping onto his arm for dear life.

He suppressed a yowl from tearing from his throat. He would never hear the end of it if others ever found out a mere human made Narnia Naberius yelp like some pup! He quickly grabbed the back of the neck of the human with his other hand, aiming for the fold of skin that all demons had, only to find nothing but smooth skin. Seriously!? Of all the things for their species not to share!

What happened to humans being peaceful and weak! This one seemed to have the same jaw strength of a panther-rat, only with far more pain due to the blunt teeth tearing his skin rather than the neat slicing of sharp fangs. Desperately, his hand traveled up and forward slightly and gripped where he thought the jawbone started. Feeling his prize, he slowly massaged the area in hopes that it was more like his Cerberion's jaw and that they would be forcibly relaxed into letting him go.

And in a way it seemed to. They slowly relaxed the pressure, but never let go entirely. What Narnia didn't know at the time was that they were slowly being discouraged at the fact he had barely even moved beyond his initial hand movement at their neck. The other one had yelped and screamed as much as a hyena seemed to laugh, leaping back, tearing their own flesh from themselves, leaving a massive chunk in their mouth. This one gave them nothing but a splurge of blood, that later they would be very disgusted with themselves for enjoying. The warm liquid soothing their parched throat.

While this specific human leaned neither one way nor the other in their carnivorous or herbivorous ways, a true omnivore; they had to admit, that after days of not daring to eat anything in this new world, the combined flesh and blood tasted rather good at that moment. With an added bonus of keeping this creature obviously intending harm away from them. The lack of food plus the sudden onslaught of taste of something possibly edible had sent the usual harmonious human into a rather feral state.

Narnia hadn't stumbled across a helpless being, he had stumbled across a human who was hungry. A very dangerous thing indeed, he learned. Later, he would be told it was a mood called "hangry" and that one should never get in the way of a hangry human. Narnia had never agreed to something so fast in his life, unconsciously rubbing at the deep scars that still graced his hand to that day.

Now, though, he would move the hand that was free up, towards the top of the human's head, and slowly rubbed it downwards in a petting motion. The being tensed up slightly, teeth crushing down just a little bit more, causing him to wince, but didn't actively stop him. Feeling emboldened, he repeated the motion, over and over again. Slowly, over the next couple of minutes, the human relaxed enough to almost remove their teeth entirely.

Just a little more and he'd be free, was what he thought, until he noticed that the head he was petting was shaking. No, not just the head, he observed looking them over. It was their entire body that was quivering, at first he was confused. Had he accidentally broken them? Henry would be quite crossed if so, humans were supposed to be returned unharmed to prevent possible exposure. Then again, humans were also supposed to be weak things needing protection, not feral biting machines, perhaps this one was already broken?

Suddenly he felt water hit his hand, breaking him out of his thoughts. Yes that was definitely water mixing with his blood. It took him a second to realize that the human was crying again. The discovery left him stunned, he was the one that had been ravaged into and yet they were the ones crying! Yes, this human was without doubt broken!

However, the sight of it also made him incredibly unsure of himself. Had this been some other demon he would have destroyed them within an inch of their life before maybe dumping them off with the nearest healers for daring to do such a thing, and yet the more he looked the more he noticed a distinct lack of any real vexation and a distinct want of wiping away the tears and making them feel better.

Mentally he shook his head, why was he feeling this way? There was a lot of things about humans lost to the past, was this unusual desire to protect them one of those? But if that was the case why were there so many stories about eating said humans? Unless, he glanced down again at where his hand seemed to meld with their mouth. Perhaps the stories got it backwards and humans actually ate demons, using false weaknesses to lower their guards? That... was a rather terrifying impossible thought that he was going to stop in it's tracks.

'Focus Narnia!' he scolded himself. It didn't matter how he or any past demon had felt. Right now he had a very misplaced crying human attached to him and he could deftly hear Henry summoning the cuffing spell in the background. If nothing else he at least had to get them off of his hand in order to save some sort of dignity.

Slowly he moved his free hand til it was under their jaw and gently placed the tip of his thumb and first finger claws into their mouth on either side of his other hand and carefully pried their jaw open. They let go without further fuss, tears still pouring and a slight sniffle to their breathing now. Now in possession of his own hand again he gave in a once over and winced at the damage. They had certainly did a number on him, and if they had gone much further he probably wouldn't have any fingers at all anymore. (If anyone later on had questioned when he started to fall in love, it would probably be this moment he pointed to. Anyone who could stand up to a being so much more powerful than them and inflict lasting damage was a keeper in his book).

Narnia deftly gave a healing spell over his hand to fix most of the damage, he was no Buer but even he should be able to ensure no scaring. Only he didn't. The bites healed certainly, but there were scars in the shape and size of each tooth belonging to the human. Perhaps he was more out sorts than he realized. No matter, a simple glamour charm when around others should be enough so he wasn't to terribly concerned, until he realized it was his left hand that had been gored. Well, that explained a few fair things.

'A marriage bite,' his mind supplied. Had this been any other circumstance at least, but it wasn't and here he stood with a quite possibly broken crying human that had claimed him, however unintentional, and the thudding steps of his supervisor coming from behind him.

He felt the growl push to leave his lips but pushed it down at the last possible moment, instead opting to quickly swing the human into his arms, purposefully hiding his left hand under the ripped remains of the oversized top they were wearing. Marriage bites were sacred, done only when two, or more, demons were absolutely certain they would take no others. Unlike the the easily breakable marriages that humans held, marriage bites were permanent and infused into the demons very being. In ancient times this would be how alliances were made concrete, an arranged marriage or two and suddenly the two families were then one, ending most conflicts. It didn't magically make the parties fall in love, but it did impart feelings to ensure their other was at least safe and happy.

Narnia would have to do everything in his power to hide this from absolutely everyone, especially his family. Luckily the bond was incomplete without his mark on them, therefor making the feelings small and inconsequential. He would see the end of his bond through by personally shoving them through the portal! Mind made up, he turned around to face Henry with his catch.

If only it had been that easy.

The only ones with the strength to make a portal were those of Chet rank and up, however the supposed only ones with the knowledge of how to open said portal were the Three Greats. Of the three only Sullivan was available, the other two somehow both out on Evil Cycles, but he supposedly didn't know it off the top of his head. He only had to check his libraries he had said, should only take a couple hours at the least, maybe a couple weeks at the absolute most. The deal was struck and I was placed in charge of the human until then.

"Naberius's are spectacular guard dogs are they not? So who better to protect them until we get them home again!" Sullivan had cheered happily, before skipping on his way out. And so Narnia ended up taking the human home with him, when it became clear Sullivan was not coming back that night. Got them cleaned and fed (and in that moment Narnia both discovered the power of human consummation and mourned his wallet's future) before giving them the spare room to sleep in.

After the first couple days of they skirted around each other cautiously, both wary of the sudden new roommate situation, only made more awkward when it was clear neither could speak the other's language. When Sullivan stopped by Narnia barely withheld his shout of joy, watching the human was slightly fascinating but he was mostly bored having been sent nothing but paperwork to do in his forced absence from the workplace.

The shout of joy was quickly replaced with near tears of frustration when Sullivan declared he had not found the ritual and was merely stopping by because he had found another spell that he thought would be prevalent at the moment. Narnia couldn't help the confused head twitch at Sullivan's words, another prevalent spell? What was more important then finding the portal ritual to send the little beast back before it ate him out of house and home!

A translator spell. Sullivan had found a translator spell and thought it would be nice for him and the human to be able to chat properly until they could leave, especially since Narnia's absence would be noticed soon. This way the human could entertain themselves while Narnia could go back to work like everything was fine.

Narnia briefly wondered if he was strong enough to be able to strangle Sullivan for even a second before the Tet killed him.

From there it had only been a hellball effect. Being able to talk meant being able to learn beyond noticing basic observations. It meant learning each other's names. It meant being able to learn about likes and dislikes, loves and fears. And once they established a routine, a couple of weeks turned to a couple of months, and a couple of months became a couple of years it became clear that Sullivan never intended to find the portal and Henry and the rest of the Border Patrol forgot his little human's existence. It meant they were free to fall in love and whisper promises of forever in the dead of night with only the two moons and a matching set of bites as their witnesses.

Looking back Narnia now wished he had gone through attacking Sullivan, if for no other reason than to not have to feel this pain of utter loss.

All it had taken was one surprise home visit from Henry for him to recognize the human who had meant to have left years ago. Had Henry not been promoted to the Thirteen Crowns and got the other two Greats on his side before talking to Sullivan he probably could have kept them years more.

When it came time to let them go, he did as he promised himself years ago and sent them through the portal himself, once their mind was cleansed of everything they shared. And when the portal closed forever he begged Sullivan to wipe his own memories. A guard dog was no good when it was busy mourning it's missing parts, and he had no desire to live like Amduscious Poro, so crushed by their love for Derkila that to this day, centuries later they still looked.

Sullivan had tried to talk him out of it of course, with feelings that deep attached the spell was likely not to hold, but he had remained steadfast. After all it was his mind to do with what he willed, and they would never want to see him suffer for centuries just because of them, and the only way to not mourn was to forget. Was he being cowardly? Perhaps, but it was done in the end.

And so he spent the next several decades with no memories of any humans in his presence at all. Or why he felt the urge to crack a bottle of wine to celebrate on a specific day, or to curl in a ball and cry until he shriveled up from lack of water on a different specific day. Or why there was this random flower bed by his door beyond thinking it could be more welcoming, or where these extra glasses came from that he just couldn't bare to throw away.

When Sullivan was called in for a supposed claim from Baal that he had a trapped human, it tingled something in him, loosened things just enough.

It wasn't until one day when he was investigating the cause of the summoning's that destroyed Walter Park that he saw him though. The supposed grandson of Sullivan's that had appeared out of nowhere. He was on a float, surrounded by what appeared to be other students and... my was that little Kalego and his allies that he swears aren't his lovers? He certainly never expected to seem them here but was more than happy to have this little piece of blackmail up his sleeve.

Drawing his attention back in was Iruma however, something about him seemed off, until it slowly came together when a gust of wind blew his hair back, briefly exposing small, rounded ears. Like...

Like theirs.

And suddenly the spell shattered and he remembered. Remembered from the first contact, to the first kiss, all the way till the last time he touched them. Everything he had sealed away, exposed. He felt like he had been struck by the Demon King himself and had to take off without notifying anyone or else he'd lose all semblance of himself.

Or attack Henry for destroying his life, unintentional as it was. Or worse Sullivan.

He didn't blame Henry, not really. He had only done his job much as Narnia would have in his horns. And it wasn't Sullivan's fault that Narnia had been carelessly caught with his human and Sullivan had not. Still there was a deep rooted anger that burned through his veins at watching everyone get together with their families. A family he would never have now.

And it was in this mindset that Baal first came up to him. A favor for a favor he'd called it. Blackmail with a promise of a prize if successful was more like it. Apparently back when Sullivan had been brought it Baal had noticed his slight twinge at the mention at the mention of humans and done some digging. Digging that turned up the past case of his human, including how long it had taken them to be properly returned. It had only taken a few educated jumps from there and now Narnia was here with a choice to make.

Go to Henry and Sullivan with what he knew and have his past ripped back to the present destroying everything he and his family had built or give in the and listen to Baal's demands and have his precious lover back at the expense of possibly other lives.

Naberius's were the clan of unwavering loyalty, and he knew with whom his loyalties lay.

'I'm so sorry.'

His pen was placed to paper as he wrote,

"I, Naberius Narnia, hereby recommend both Atori Arachne and Shiida..."

Not sure how well I did with the angst, but I tried my best. *shrugs* I hope you enjoyed it regardless and maybe if wanted I can make a happier part two in the future.  

[wherethingscomebackx]

Top 25 Larry Fics of 2020

h 2020 was HELLISH. So thank you to all the writers, and I mean ALL of them, who kept us occupied as the world continues to burn.

You may be familiar with these lists:

Top 25 Larry fics of 2016

Top 25 Larry fics of 2017

Top 25 Larry fics of 2018

Top 25 Larry fics of 2019

We’re going on our 5th year!!  As always, I read a lot of fic and the majority of it is Larry. I like making lists and I like Larry so I thought I’d do some minimal research of the top 25 larry fics published/completed in 2020 in order of least to most kudos (with links). All of these fics are top notch so you should all check them out!

25.) a trail of honey through it all by @yvesaintlourent (27k)

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

Or, the TPH fic we’ve all been waiting for.

24.) even the best laid plans by @falsegoodnight (25k)

“Anyways,” Louis stresses, narrowing his eyes, “just let me say it and then rate how terrible of an idea it is on a scale from one to ten.”

“Alright,” Zayn agrees, sitting up expectantly.

“I want to ask Harry Styles to take my virginity,” Louis blurts, holding his hands out for emphasis.

The way Zayn’s eyes bulge is almost comical. “Negative infinity,” he says, voice choked. “Negative infinity times negative infinity.”

“Technically, a negative times a negative is -”

“Really negative infinity,” Zayn corrects himself, shaking his head wildly. “Louis, what the fuck?”

-

Or, Louis wants to have sex with someone and decides Harry is the perfect alpha for the job.

23.) A Distant Hazy Light by @greenfeelings (76k)

Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down.

Or, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down, until he builds his own up.

22.) Ghost Note Symphony by whoknows (96k)

Louis is on tour when he first hears about it. It’s all over the news – Harry Styles Attacked By Fan runs in headlines for days. It’s not even just the gossip rags, either. Actual journalists are covering the story. It would have been impossible to avoid hearing about it. Technically, Oli is the one who tells Louis about it, but it’s not exactly being covered up. Harry doesn’t answer Louis’ text asking if he’s alright, but that’s not really surprising. They haven’t spoken for months, and it’s been a lot longer than that since they’ve had a real conversation. The sting of the text going unanswered is still there, less painful than it might have been a few years ago.

It’s not that it’s easy to forget about, exactly. Louis has a whole life outside of One Direction now, though. So Louis goes on with his life, figuring that if Harry was seriously hurt he would have heard about it by now. He might currently be in the same country as Harry, but being on opposite sides of it puts enough distance between them that putting it in the back of his mind is easy. There’s nothing Louis could do, even if he thought Harry might want him to.

That’s why everything that happens next comes as a complete shock to him.

21.) Until by @allwaswell16 (38k)

Rural Eagle County, Colorado wasn’t the type of place to find a famous musician or actor. At least not until songwriter Louis Tomlinson showed up with pop star Niall Horan to visit his uncle’s horse ranch, and they just happened to find themselves next door to a reclusive former movie star.

20.) Strangers in Love by sweetums (42k)

Louis wakes up to find himself in a marriage with the last man he thought he'd ever end up with.

-

Prompt 51: An amnesia fic where louis and harry were enemies to lovers but after an accident, louis only remembers those memories that him and harry hated each other. now harry has to fix it. I think something like this less dark and less angsty compared to other amnesia fics and it could be funny

19.) A Long Way From The Playground by Pink_Sunsets (170k)

One Direction is broken up. They broke up five years ago. That should be the end of the story, right?

Harry is finished with One Direction. He now has a new life, one with two kids and a successful solo career. And he’s happy.

But a call one night from management flips Harry’s whole new life upside down, and he’s forced to face the life he had left behind.

As well as a certain blue eyed man who had left him behind.

18.) my love’s not simple (it’s fragile) by @falsegoodnight (27k)

“Can I take you out tomorrow?” he asks. “My shift ends at 7 but we can go for dinner at 8.”

Louis is silent for a few seconds and then, “Like… on a date?”

Harry swallows thickly. He hasn’t done this in years, hasn’t ever wanted to. “Yeah.”

He’s worried he’s misread things but then Louis raises his head to kiss Harry’s cheek. “Yeah,” he says easily. “Sure.”

Tension leaves his body swiftly. “Are you sure?” asks Harry. “I know we’re both so busy but I can’t not try with you, Lou.”

“Neither can I,” says Louis. “I think we can figure it out. I care about you a lot Harry. We’ve known each other for a week, but I already like you so much.”

-

Or Harry's new job is threatened by his impending rut. Desperate for a solution, he allows Niall to introduce him to Louis, an omega whose heat begins the same day. They click.

17.) Cocaine for Breakfast by @harryeatsburger (309k)

“It’s an easy job.” He continues, as if Louis wants to listen. “Like I said, a few trips. Parties, students, nothing dramatic.”

Louis gazes over to Harry. He’s looking thoughtful now, eyes on the green like he’s talking more to himself than Louis.

“Clubbing, drinks. Whatever, the business is just a side thing.”

That’s not how Louis remembers it to be, “You lying?” He honestly can’t tell.

Harry shakes his head slowly, meeting Louis' eyes.

“No,” He answers almost toneless. Harry clears his throat, “I won’t put you in any dangerous situation.” His voice is sincere, Louis can tell he means it, his jade green eyes glinting with truth.

or, - Louis Tomlinson is a drug addict, sent away from his beloved party-scene to recover. There, he discovers that small towns have just as much access to drugs as London did, plus something even better that he just can't get enough of. That something is a boy with green eyes and bouncy curls named Harry Styles. -

16.) Tastes like Strawberries by @sadaveniren (4k)

I’m stressed. I’m nesting and demand cuddles. Come over

Harry frowned and double checked who the text was from. Yup, it still said Louis - Grad, which meant it was from Louis from his grad school.

aka Louis texts Harry by mistake. It works out

15.) the way the storm blows by @rbbsbb (21k)

Louis doesn’t have a habit of thinking about Harry’s dick.

That would be weird, seeing as they’re best mates, and they share a flat, and they’ve spent holidays at each other’s family homes. Their friendship hasn’t ever risen to a point where Louis should want to see his mate’s dick, and he’s happy to keep it that way.

Except, all that Louis can think about is exactly that. The size of it. The shape. The amount of people it’s been in.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, or the fact that Louis’ just recently walked in to an eyeful of Harry taking turns on some slags that he’s never seen before, but. Louis’ mind can’t stop obsessing over the idea.

14.) bruise you like a peach by @falsegoodnight (40k)

There’s two reasons Harry despises Econ.

The first is that it’s boring as fuck. The second reason is a bit more personal, a bit more focused in a way. As in it’s focused on one specific thing, or in his case, person.

His name is Louis Tomlinson.

13.) Watching The World Fall by whoknows (11k)

This segment has been going on long enough that Louis knows what’s coming before James starts in on it, trying to sell him on something he knows that Louis wouldn’t normally be buying. But there’s four cameras surrounding him, and an audience watching him expectantly, so if Louis wants to continue convincing people that he’s doing just fine, he’s going to have to go along with it.

“We have a whole host of single men backstage waiting to meet you, Louis,” James tells him. “We want to help you find love tonight, on Late Late Live Tinder. Is this okay? Do you want to play?”

It actually kind of makes sense that his first date after the break-up is going to be just as public as said break-up. Something like coming full circle.

“Alright, James,” Louis agrees, hopping down off his stool.

“Okay, come down to the stage,” James says. Louis can’t even tell whether the excitement in his voice is genuine or not. “Right now, come on down!”

12.) Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds by @2tiedships2 (38k)

Broadway shows were one of the few things that could keep Louis’ attention for a full two hours without needing to move about. But not tonight.

The alpha next to him was both infuriating him and practically turning him on at the same time. He needed to leave. The alpha, that is. Louis was staying.

Or the one where Louis is a nonverbal omega who has accepted the fact that he will never find an alpha that will treat him as an equal. On the other hand, he’s never met anyone like Harry.

11.) The Wrath of the Emerald Eyes by @purpledandeli0n (85k)

His chin is grabbed harshly, facing the two deep green eyes that have been getting on his nerves for the past ten minutes. The smirk on the man's face does not vanish. The grip of his hand on Louis' chin does not soften, his thumb at the side of his lower lip.

His smile widens as he answers Louis' question, ''My name is Styles, but you will call me Captain."

•

Pirate AU

10.) Canyon Moon by @eeveelou (40k)

For as long as Louis has remembered, he has been promised to be mated to Harry, his best friend and the future pack alpha. But Louis’s heart belonged to the forest and to the hunt more than he could ever imagine it belonging to Harry.

Then Harry’s father dies in a violent accident, and Louis’s future alpha disappears on the wind.

An A/B/O Lion King AU

9.) We Both Got Nothing to Hide by lovelarry10 (43k)

“Talk to me, Lou.”

“I can’t,” Louis mumbled, knowing he genuinely couldn’t say it. He couldn’t admit to what he was doing. “Don’t ask me to say it, because I can’t.”

“Then… I’ll try and guess. You’ve… got some stuff of Harry’s. Something of his to make it smell like him?”

Louis just nodded, eyes fixated on the floor. This was humiliating, but he knew Zayn wouldn’t stop until he found out what was going on.

“Okay. Like… a blanket, or a comforter or something?”

“Kind of…”

//

Omega Louis has a secret nest. Alpha Harry keeps losing his clothes.

8.) sleeping on our problems by @falsegoodnight (67k)

I’m in love with you, Louis thinks. He feels empty, weighed down by his sadness and the loss of Harry inside him just moments ago before his knot finally went down.

There’s moments where he’s sure Harry feels the same. Like now, when he’s gazing down at Louis with so much adoration and tenderness. It’s like they’re both on the cusp of something more, but neither of them ever say a word.

His confession is on the tip of his tongue ready to slide out like honey, and yet he remains silent. They both do, looking at each other and recognizing the reluctance mirrored in each other’s eyes. It’s then that Louis realizes they’re both scared.

-

Or Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

7.) like it’s a game by @soldouthaz (32k)

there is little harry hates more than truth or dare.

and louis.

6.) before we knew by @falsegoodnight (39k)

“C’mon Lou,” says Zayn after a moment, He sounds even more exasperated than before. Louis sort of has a knack for exasperating people, especially people like Zayn who aren’t usually bothered by his brattiness. “Can’t you give this guy a chance? Harry Styles? Aren’t you curious about him at all?”

Despite his best efforts, Louis still flinches at the name. He really shouldn’t be so affected after all these years. He’s seen the name printed down the curve of his waist in obnoxiously and uncommonly large loopy letters every single day since his sixteenth birthday eight years ago. He’s very familiar with the name Harry Styles.

It sounds pretentious and Louis hates it.

He hates everything about his supposed soulmate.

He hates his large handwriting that stands out like a claim on his skin whenever he’s walking around shirtless. He hates his pretentious name. And now he hates his supposed curls and green eyes and dimples.

-

Or Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed into his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

5.) Mine Would Be You by @crinkle-eyed-boo (114k)

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

4.) You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) by @harryrainbows (95k)

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

Or: Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.

3.) The Space Between by @lads-laddylads (39k)

Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why.

Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.

2.) Nothing But You On My Mind by @absoloutenonsense (83k)

Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.

1.) Collision by @tequiladimples (224k)

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

[themanip]

late nights

SUMMARY — you and bang chan are both equally as stressed out. your solution?  sleep with each other. boom, problem solved.

PAIRING — bang chan  x  reader  WARNINGS — mentions of stress and mental health problems, unprotected sex, soft!dom chan, mentions of kinks, really soft, really cute smut basically, crying (not sexually), sad thoughts, angry and frustrated emotions, angsty GENRE — heavy angst, fwb, coming-of-age kind of, smut, romance, porn with a hint of plot WORD COUNT — 4.9k, i got carried away my bad

“How do you deal with stress?”

Chan’s question wasn’t ill intentioned by any means, and as you both sat in his studio, you pondered on whether or not to actually answer truthfully. “I mean, you’re the leader of two more trainees than I was, and navigating as a girlgroup is much more difficult than boygroups,”

“Do you want the honest answer, or the more appropriate answer?” you crossed your legs, Chan’s couch feeling quite comfortable. He stared down at you for a moment, the height of his chair offering him that leverage.

The room was quiet, the lights were dim, and the entire environment was soothing. “Well, honest, of course. No point in me asking if it’s a fib, no?”

You nodded, blowing a puff of air out of your nose thoughtfully. “Truthfully, I use sex. It allows me to physically and mentally drain myself, and I sleep really well after getting fucked. It allows me to refresh the next morning, and my stress, at least physically, is diminished.”

You didn’t look at him until you finished talking, and his face was blank. Once you two locked eyes, he sputtered out, “Oh, I—”

“This is why I offered two options, Chan,” you laughed, and at the lighten of atmosphere he giggled a bit too. “I didn’t mean to, y’know,” he stopped, and you nodded lightly. “I get it, but as of now I don’t do it much anymore. I usually just let out my anger or stress during dance routines or working out but it doesn’t work the same, and sometimes I deliver moves too harshly while dancing.”

“Why not?”

You were unsure what he was referring to, and you crinkled your eyebrows. “How come you don’t do it anymore if nothing else helps the same way?” he asked softly, his eyes swimming with genuine concern. 

“I’m a lot more conservative with my body, I just have to trust someone. It’s hard to get to know a guy without them immediately wanting to jump into a relationship. You can’t really do that in what we do, and the second I start to trust a guy things go haywire. I just really have to have a good friendship to have sex, I guess.”

The entirety of the conversation, Chan’s cheeks were turning peach. Even in the dark, dim light, you could see it. “I understand, it’s a very tangible thing. Just giving yourself to someone like that without a basic relationship, platonic or not, is important depending on how you view relationships,”

You nodded in response, and a silence fell over you two. There wasn’t much to be said, but for some reason you decided to blurt out. “If you don’t know how to deplete stress, I suggest it. Just the no strings attached part, because otherwise things get messy and stress becomes inevitable. Just try it sometime, Chan. If you don’t like it, then consider it a learning experience,” you shrugged, and Chan pursed his lips.

“I mean it doesn’t sound like a bad idea, per se. I just don’t know how I’ll casually ask someone to have sex. Most women just run off the moment I mention it, and who knows if they’re even into the same things I am? There’s just so many things to be unsure of.” His chin was now laying on his thumb, and his pointer finger was laying above his top lip. He was deep in thought. 

You stood up, which cause Chan to unexpectedly flinch, and he watched you with careful eyes. “Chris, if you ever feel like you need a de-stresser, you know where to find me. Nothing will be weird unless you make it weird. Or we can always just talk, either way, I’m here. I have to go before Sumna comes and drags me out of here, but seriously. Whatever you need, no strings attached. Nothing leaves this room,” you mentioned softly, and his eyes widened at his English name. It’s rather rare you used it, so he pondered the specific use of it in this scenario.

“Thank you,” he muttered simply, and he watched you as you walked out. Was she being serious?

Chan and you had not talked in a few days. Whether it was a crazy schedule, you embarassing yourself, or him not knowing how to approach the situation, you didn’t know. All you did know was that you missed your friend. 

You and your bandmates had a hectic schedule today, and as the leader, you’d had to sit in on a meeting with your manager and JYP’s public relations manager. Apparently, Dispatch had caught one of your members, Lanzi, out doing something with another k-pop idol. Dispatch had only obtained two pictures of it, but it was clearly legible on who they were, and what they were doing.

The cost to get those pictures thrown out was much more than JYP would have liked, so she had to sit and get chewed out. Instead of being angry at Lanzi, she became more angry at herself. She had talked to them about things of this sort, but clearly not well enough. It was her job as leader, and she failed doing so. 

After a three hour long meeting, you were absolutely exhausted, mentally at least. And now, just after that, was choreography practice. You’d just learned the choreo a few days before, so for the most part you had it down. As lead dancer, you also had to make sure everyone else in your group understood that too. 

So, thirty minutes into practice, when none of your members seemed to be latching on, you sighed. Your entire job was to simply lead, and do well. Somehow, you couldn’t manage to do that. Once more, you started the choreography, and told your girls to simply stand back and watch.

You had a slight tone, but you needed them to understand that rhythm is just as important as the real dance moves. Your entire body was covered in sweat, and you were growing more frustrated by the minute. 

The way your body moved was no longer elegant, just harsh, angry strokes of somewhat rhythmic actions. You did your best to do it just as you were shown, but the overwhelming anger and emotion in your body was just more than you could handle. 

Little did you know, next to your bandmates, stood Hyunjin and Chan. They had come to ask something, but instead found you dancing your angered heart out. All stopped and stared, and Chan could only focus on the way your hips contorted, the patterns your hips followed.

As the music stopped, you turned around, and your eyes widened at the visitors. 

“We can leave if you’re busy, Hyunjin-ah just wanted to ask if he could borrow the studio tomorrow, and I wanted a word with you, if that’s okay,” Chan asked, and all of your bandmates went silent, expecting you to take the lead of the conversation.

“Hyunjin-sunbaenim, the studio is yours whenever you need it. Let me know what time, and Chan-oppa, would you like to talk now?”

Hyunjin bowed, and gave a quick thank you before heading out of the room. “Yes, please. If you’re too busy, no worries,” and you looked at your girls and told them to head back to the dorm. You were done for today, no reason to beat a dead horse when clearly today was not a good one to get skills in. 

“Can we talk in my studio?” Chan came closer to you, almost a whisper, and you knew this was going to go one of two ways: he was going to fuck your brains out, or he was going to let you know that he did not think of you in that way, and to please never discuss things like that with him again. You don’t think you could handle either, at least not today. 

“Yeah, let me grab some other clothes,” you said softly, rubbing your forehead in anxiety. Chan quickly started to mention something, and you shut him up quick. “I don’t—”

“Chan, I’m getting new clothes because I am sweaty and tired, nothing else. I will meet you in your studio after I am changed,” you sighed, your hot knees feeling good against the cool floor of the choreography studio. Your duffle bag now wide open, you grabbed an oversized long sleeve shirt and a pair of loose jeans. 

You also reapplied deodorant and some perfume so you didn’t smell like you lived in a sewer, the amount

As your girls were long gone, you felt free to change in the studio. Your clothes quickly fell to the floor, and you were now in more comfortable apparel that is not drenched in sweat. Dreading this conversation with Chan, you swiftly collected your things and moved them to the corner to come collect after you spoke to Chan and was ready to go home. 

Guiding your way to Chan’s studio was a walk in the park. The amount of times you’d go in there to talk to him, or for him to let you hear what he’d been working on, was countless. You two had budded a beautiful friendship, and he had been somewhat of a rock. He had always been so sweet, so loving. And you’ve possibly ruined it because you couldn’t think of anything other than sex when trying to guide him through dealing with stress.

Your eyes almost welled at the thought. You couldn’t cry though, not now. So, as you stood outside of Chan’s recording studio, you held your breath for a moment and looked up, letting the tears vanish.

A soft knock sounded, your knuckles rasping at the door. The hallways were silent, and you couldn’t hear a single thing from inside Chan’s studio. Your own heartbeat pounded in your ears, and you tensed as you heard footsteps leading up to his door.

He opened the door, his face showing no clear emotions. He didn’t seem angry, but he wasn’t too happy to see you, either. His hair was clearly ran through by his hand, blonde tufts falling back towards his ears. His makeup was done to perfection, light brown tones covering his lids. 

He wore a simple outfit, a loose black hoodie and dark blue sweatpants. He’d changed from earlier, his black ripped jeans now nowhere to be seen. “Come in, you can sit anywhere,” his voice was always soft, even though he could be fuming, his tone would never soar. 

“Chan, I just want to say I’m sorry,” you muffled out, plopping down unconventionally on his couch. “I just, I don’t know why I said those things or did that,” at this point, you just didn’t want him to think differently of you. He was the closest thing you had to a mentor, and he was an amazing friend. 

If you lost him, or ruined your relationship, you don’t think you could ever forgive yourself. 

You pulled your knees up to your chest as he took a seat in his chair, staring expectedly at you. Silence followed, so you continued, unsure of what he was expecting to hear. “I just don’t like you being stressed, and the only way I know how to cope with things is kind of like that, so I figured maybe you could too, and then I offered, and I feel like I just fucked things up between us. I.. just I’m so sorry.”

At this point your eyes had clouded up, and your voice had cracked multiple times. The day you’d had just piled up, and your exhaustion was visible. Chan’s eyes immediately softened, and he felt bad. He wasn’t mad, he just didn’t know how to approach the situation. 

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, and he stood up from his chair and joined you on the couch. At this point, you’d started full on crying. “I ruined our friendship, and now I’m sitting here crying so you’re gonna feel too bad to be honest with me about what I did wrong,” you were now sniffling hard, and your chest was dense you were surprised you could breathe. 

“No, love, that’s not it, I promise,” your heart pumped blood a bit harder at his nickname for you, and he placed a warm hand on your back. “I came here to ask if you were okay,” his tone was now nothing but soft and supportive, and he continuously rubbed your back. Warmth spread throughout your entire body. 

“I heard about the meeting, and everyone kept discussing how stressed out you were today,” in the dim light once more, his eyes glowed. They were so soft, so sweet. His entire aura was just warm, loving, and nothing was more assuring. 

“No matter what happens between us, you’re my friend, and I care about you,” he smiled softly, “Nothing would change that, unless you like, stabbed me or something,” he laughed soulfully, and you laughed with him. He pulled you closer to him, your head now leaning on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Chan. I just didn’t know what to do, and today has been really shitty,” you smiled, and let your head fall even closer to his chest. His thumbs ran circles around your back, and he held you close. “It’s okay, I understand. Trust me,” a warm silence encased the entire room, and as Chan now cuddled you warmly, your face was now red at the reality of the situation.

“Do you feel a bit better?”

“Yeah, I just needed someone to remind me of how things are and to keep me grounded,” you sighed, and Chan’s thumb was now no longer rubbing your back. His hand had stilled, and all you could hear was the heartbeat from inside Chan’s chest. He was so broad, and the expanse of his torso provided a very comfortable pillow.

“I wasn’t offended, or taken back or anything when you offered, you know that, right?” Chan spoke out of nowhere, the rumbling of his chest vibrating intensely. “I wouldn’t have known, I tried my best to ignore you in case you never wanted to speak to me again,”

A small laugh came out of Chan, and his chest pushed your head a bit. “No, in fact, I think I’ve thought about it a little too much.”

You pushed your head off of him at this point, and resuming your position before he sat on the couch. You pulled your knees back up to your chest, and looked at him. “Really?”

“You said you wanted to have sex with someone you trust, and I feel the same way. It’s really hard to come by good people with good intentions, and you also happen to be beyond gorgeous. Why would I not want to?”

With cheeks now flushed red, you giggled. School-girl giggled, specifically. You had no idea how to take this compliment, but then the realization hit you. Christopher Bang just said he wants to fuck you.

His face also turned a deep scarlet, and he looked down, waiting for a reaction. “Mr. Bang, the things you say. So scandalous,” you both laughed lightly, and you hummed in response to the silence. “If we decide to ever do something, it’s important we talk about it first,” you mentioned, and now the conversation went from light-hearted to a bit more serious.

 “Of course, but in what way?”

“I don’t know, what kinds of things do you like? I can’t promise I can pertain to everything, but there’s no harm in trying. Especially if it happens more than once,” you clutched your legs, and Chan leaned forward a bit, his elbows on his knees as he stared ahead.

“Uh, well,” he laughed, and covered his hands with his face. This was the Chan you liked, who could make any situation, no matter how dark, seem light and easy-going. “It’s not really,” he started, beginning to look at you, then stopping himself, “I don’t know. I never usually talk about it like this,”

“Well, how about this: I tell you what I like, and you tell me what you’re willing to do. Just because I like it does not mean you have to do it, but if you enjoy it too, its mutual pleasure, yeah?”

Chan simply nodded, now mesmerized by you. His face completely tracked yours, and you sighed. “I have always loved your hands. I really, really like if you’d put them around my neck, if you would ever feel so kind. I really love being praised, I love being called a good girl, things like that. My favorite foreplay is just making out, I’m just a big softie, but I can take rough if that’s what you like. I’m a big pleaser, and I want to make sure you’re taken care of and get some pleasure out of this,”

Chan nodded once more, and his fingers instinctively wrapped themselves around his rings, twisting and turning. “Your turn, Channie,” you smirked, and he leaned back, a smile crowning his face. 

“Well, I really like being soft and intimate, I like any position, bonus points if I see your face,” he smiled, his cheeks burning scarlet. He clearly did not talk about these things often, moreso just played them out in the midst of a high and never spoke of it again. But he and you both knew how important communication was, so he continued.

“I have played around with being called Daddy, but I’m not sure, and if you’re not comfortable with it—”

“If I am that uncomfortable with something, I promise I’ll tell you. Besides, that’s really cute. Rolls right off the tongue, right Daddy?”

He visibily shivered, and you smiled. “I—uh, I like if you’d run your fingers through my hair, not too hard, but like soothingly, kind of? If that makes sense. I also like it if you’d verbalise when you’re, uh—”

You knew where he was going, so you leaned close to his ear and finished his sentence for him. “Gonna cum? Oh, it would be rude not to,” you laughed gently, and you saw the last of Chan’s patience snap like a rubber band. 

His hands grabbed your face sternly, yet somehow gently. “Do you want this?” he asked, the lust obvious on his face. Despite any previous conversation, he needed verbal consent to continue, and it would make him feel most okay with doing this. 

“Yes,”

The room was now silent, anticipation filling your entire body. You’d come in here crying, and you couldn’t help but hope you’d leave the same way; just a different type of crying. 

He pushed you so your back was now flush against the couch, the headrest leaning your upper torso closer to him. “Tell me to stop, and I promise I will, alright? The second you tell me to,” he was now looking you dead in the eyes, above you. Your legs were spread open, and his entire body was in the valley of your abdomen. Both of his arms were on either side of you, perching himself up. 

“Chris, just kiss me already,” you whined, and he laughed wholeheartedly, before dipping in. The first kiss was hesitant, exploring new territory. His lips tasted like vanilla chapstick, and the first few were light pecks. It took only a second before he took the initiative and added his tongue to the mixture. 

You rarely ever used tongue, most of your hookups barely even kissed, which is why none of them compared. Kissing was your weak point, it was a vulnerability. And Chan did not abuse that power once.

“Is this okay?” he mumbled against your mouth, your exchanging saliva now making more than your mouth lubricated. “Fuck, yes,” you moaned out, the amount of times he would kiss you now making you weak.

His hands dragged softly, and held themselves at your jaw, a classic sweetheart. His thumb was against your cheek so softly, the pads gracefully rubbing across the expanse of your cheekbone.

Everything about this was so domestic, so warm. His kisses were so soft, and full of love. There was no rush, no push to go any farther had you or him decided not to. His warm hands on your face made you purr on the inside, and when he pulled away, he had looked more beautiful than ever. 

You had no intention of mentioning the wetness that had gathered between your legs, until Chan was staring at you, and momentarily his eyes widened. “Shit,” he cursed, looking around rapidly. “We don’t have a condom. I’m clean and everything, but we don’t have to continue if you don’t feel comfortable,”

“I have an implant, and I’m clean too. I just want you, if you want me too.”

Chan had no other qualms about it, and he attacked your face in sloppy kisses. “Here, can we switch positions, my arm is hurting?” he asked awkwardly, and you laughed with your entire chest. It was a normal question, but the way he asked so ashamedly, as if it was something terrible. 

“Sit up straight, let me get on your lap,” you said softly, and he did as he was told. It was only then that you saw the bulge in his sweatpants, and you forgot that he actually had a male appendage, and from the looks of it, he was either girthy or long. Or both. 

As long as he knew how to use it, you’d be fine. 

He grabbed you by your hand to help maneuver you, and now your entire weight was on top of Chan. As you finally sat your hips down, he groaned. “Oh god,”

You took his face in your hands, and started kissing him again. At this point, you didn’t want him to be respectful anymore. His hands did not waver from your face, and so you took it into your own hands. Grabbing them both, so soft and calloused, and placed them as discreetly as you could, onto your hips. Moreso your ass, but Chan didn’t know your intentions. 

His hands pushed your hips forward, now rutting against his hard on. His lips and yours were now in a frenzy, drenching each other. It was still pretty slow, nothing fast paced, just more intense.

He broke the kiss, and his hands now edged at the bottom of your shirt. “Can I take this off?” he asked, breathless. His lips were now swollen and puffy, and his pupils were blown wide. 

You nodded softly, no words needed to be said. He quickly hauled the oversize shirt above your head, and groaned harshly when he realized you had no bra on. His first instinct was to latch his mouth onto your nipples, sucking softly. A moan left your mouth, and with nothing to hold onto anymore, your hands found his hair. 

Still rocking back and forth, your panties were probably soaked at that point. So much foreplay had you almost throbbing, and you couldn’t wait much longer to have him inside you. 

“Chan, please,” you moaned out, and he bit down on your nipple gently. “Only since you asked so nicely,” he added, and he told you to stand up. You did so, easily willingly, yet you loved the way he spoke to you.

It was almost a request, a plea. There was no power imbalance here, simply one trying to find another. He was so gentle, in everything he did. You wanted to drown in that feeling. 

He pulled your jeans off without a hitch, and eyed your lace panties hungrily, slightly thankful you’d changed earlier this evening. His fingers grasped the sides, pulling them down your legs. You were now completely bare, and he was fully dressed. This was a problem. 

“Not fair, your turn,” you pouted, and his eyes were fixated on your naked body. It felt odd, having him see you like this, but you couldn’t complain. Your arousal was now tainting your inner thighs, and Chan could probably see it too. 

He rid himself of his hoodie and his shirt at the same time, and you finally got a full view of him shirtless. This man was absolutely ripped, and you had to hold in a gasp. His arms were lined in protruding veins, and his abs were impeccable. You worked out, but not in your wildest dreams would you ever be able to maintain that nice of a physique. 

It wasn’t until he pulled off his pants, and painstakingly after, he patiently pulled his boxers off. God, did he have a pretty cock. A bit longer than average, slightly girthy, and it made your mouth water just thinking about it. 

Your first instinct was to pop down onto your knees, but as you were on your way down, Chan grabbed you by the arm. “Not this time, please, I need you,” he whined out, almost painfully. 

As you were on top of his lap, you were careful not to let him inside you yet. You figured he could decide when to do it, and you squealed when he let one hand slide from your face, down to your throat. His fingers, covered in rings, squeezed gently. He coaxed another moan from you as he let his fingers glide down the valley of your body, and found itself on your clit.

His movements were slow, but intense. His fingers glided over your folds, picking up some of your arousal, and placed all of his attention onto your little nub. Small pinprick moans escaped your mouth, and you began to tilt your hips in an attempt to get more friction. “Fuck, you’re so wet,”

Some noise semblant to a mew tried to leave your mouth, but his fingers tangled themselves around your neck further, leaving the sound trapped in your throat. “Are you ready? Or do we need to get you a bit more warmed up?” he asked softly, his mouth now next to you ear. His voice was dark, and husky.

“God, I just need you inside me,” you whined, and his hand let up on your neck, and he grabbed his cock harshly. He pumped it a few times, and spread your lips, and lined you up.

“Beg,” he said simply, and even if you tried to sink down, he now placed a hand on top of your hips harshly. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to. “W—what?” you asked, breathless. 

“Beg, I want to hear you beg for me to fuck you,” he repeated himself, and looked down at you mischeviously. You two were face to face, and his cock was still in his hands, and your lips spread wide open for him to see. “Fuck, please,” you whined, and to no avail, he didn’t budge, “please, daddy, I just wanna feel good,”

As soon as the name sounded from your mouth, he pushed inside of you. The stretch was amazing, it was slightly painful, but it felt like nothing on this earth could amount. His entire cock filled you out nicely, and the lewd sound of him smacking against you was filling the room.

His hands laid at your hips now, piling into you like his life depended on it. His balls were smacking against your ass, and the harsh thrusts stimulated your clit. Everything was so intense, the way he filled you so deeply, you could feel him in places you didn’t know he could reach, and you felt like you’d burst apart the seams. 

Shameless moans spilled from your mouth, and Chan was in your ear, grunting like a man starved. “Such a good girl, fuck, for me,” his groans were so animalistic, and the way his hands would hold you steady.

His fingers traveled down to toy with your clit, and he never stopped fucking you. Your fingers started to tangle within his hair, and his lips attached themselves to your neck, sucking, finding anything to latch onto. 

The second his fingers started rubbing your clit numbly, you knew that you were going to cum soon. Everything he did just felt so good, you were just a hole the second he started fucking you.

“I—I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum,” you breathed out heavily, and your legs started shaking. “Please, can I—please cum?”

“Yes, cum for me,” he breathed out in a husky tone, and it wasn’t long until you felt your thighs start to involuntarily shake, and the feeling inside your abdomen welling up. “I’m so—” you were cut off by your orgasm rushing over you, Chan’s fingers never stopped stimulating your clit.

You moaned out harshly, slumping towards him, unable to control yourself as one of the most harsh orgasms you’ve ever had washed over you. Your entire body started to seize, and you clenched around him harshly. He continued to fuck into you, sucking into your neck, and he starting fucking into you faster. He was definitely close, “Where-”

You cut him off, still under the shock of your orgasm, “inside me, please,” you begged, and he fucked into you once more, even harder. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,”

He lived up to his promise, as less than a few seconds later, his warm cum spurted inside of you, and he still rutted his hips, begging for more friction. He stroked into you a few more times, now drained of energy. He placed a soft kiss onto your neck, and whispered, “Thank you.”

You got up, and put your shirt back on over yourself, and Chan pulled his boxers and sweatpants on once more. A thought rose over you on whether to leave or not, but you knew Chan would be a skinship type of guy. He would probably have a drop, and not be used to just casual hookups like this.

“Do you want me to stay?” you asked softly, and a large part of you hoped he would say yes.

“Please.”

[randombtsprincessa]

Brush His Picture

All Rights Reserved. © RandomBTSPrincessa, Tulips98.

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Words: 12.6k I am sorry for getting carried away...again.

Genre: Fluff, Angst cause it’s me

Rating: General!

Summary: Your job of writing a bio for Kim Namjoon is thrown for a spin when feelings get involved...

Warnings: It’s Namjoon. I have gushed. I am not sorry.

A/N: Firstly a warm and cuddly hug for @wynniewright​ for whom this fic is written. I enjoyed our conversations and look forward to more of those! Secondly a big hug and heaps of thanks to @casuallyimagining​ for the gif banner because I suck at those. Thirdly thanks to @thebtswritersclub​ for hosting the wonderful exchange!

Smeraldo Books, in your opinion, was the best building in the small corporate complex located just a little walking distance from your little apartment. It was slate gray; concrete and glass which gave off a cold, aloof appearance from outside, but when you entered it, it was rich creams, warm browns with tons of plants and flowers. The smell followed you, as you climbed up the floors, multicolored as should be the place where you entered new dimensions via books.

Your own floor was pastel blue, pine wood and deep tones of red and browns sprinkled here and there. If you looked hard, you’d find some pink nestled somewhere too. Today it was on your own desk. You had outdone yourself to be early today. You’d packed up everything you could think of in a sensible tote – notepad, tablet, pens, pencils, heck you’d even thrown in a sharpener and ruler scale. You’d grabbed your hello kitty travel mug, filled it with yummy hot chocolate with a touch of espresso and strode down the street to work.

You would be getting the first assignments of the incoming season today and since it was your first writing assignment overall, you wanted to make a good impression – a very good impression. Your pressed clothes and smart shoes were testament of your frazzled fluttering last night, preparing for today. Making sure you had everything; you took a deep breath and made to enter the conference room at the back of the floor.

Each floor had one, for on-floor calls and projects undertaken by the different subsets of the publishing house you worked for. Yours, in particular, was the same blue and pine, a long oval table in the centre with purple and blue mismatched chairs around it. Light streamed in clearly from the high wide windows, with glass animals on the sill throwing rainbows on the wall. In the very centre of the table was a vase, sporting the very flower that the company was named after. The ethereal blue petals blushing with pinks and violets at their veins curled delicately, recently sprayed to look dewy and fresh.

You adored these flowers; you had three pots of them at home.

***

Rena arrived at sharp 9:45. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek high ponytail that you were semi sure could cut if she – ahem, whipped her hair back and forth fast enough. You’d mentioned that during a drinking night, and had been friends since. She was your mentor in more ways than one, and you relied on her heavily, this being your first year at Smeraldo. Your appearance today would reflect on her too and you wanted her to know that she could trust you.

“Good morning, Y/N.” She smiled at you.

“Good morning, Rena. Any news for the morning?”

She shrugged, unbuttoning her navy suit. She crossed her legs. “I know seasonal meetings are important, but you don’t have to be quite so stressed about them.” She winked at you. “Don’t worry, you’ll ease into it.”

You sighed in relief. If Rena was this unbothered, you had absolutely no reason to worry.

Your steady breathing remained until about ten minutes, when at 9:55, the door was opened and the head walked in with her assistants and the other members of the floor. You shuffled to the front of your chair as the meeting commenced.

As Rena had said, it really wasn’t anything to worry about. Your head was chill enough when she presented spreadsheets, delegating people to watch the stats and curves before the real reason for the meeting was dealt with.

The ‘projects’ were the writing, the works, the foundation of Smeraldo. Every ‘project’ floor had three to four of those. The stars, who would usually grab the opportunity to head out there, do the work your creative writing professor preached about and bring in the digs. The rest of the floor was the sheep, handling excels and graphs – like commoners.

This season began with two fantasy drafts, both quickly given out to the oldest, most experienced Stars, no questions asked. They were to draft first, present later before Smeraldo published them under their banner.

“Right then,” She looked up. “Now, I don’t suppose you need to be reminded that last year we joined hands to collaborate with HYBE. It is an honor that they chose us and we intend to honor them right back, don’t we?” The words were intimidating enough for us to all nod.

“We have already worked with them so it should be easier for us to get going on the contract this time around. Right Kayla,”

We all turned to look at each other while there was silence from where the Head pointed.

***

As a part of the Smeraldo-HYBE collaboration, personal booklets for each member were released along with quarterly albums, as a sort of promotion. Last quarter, it was Min Yoongi. Now the big season project fish was Kim Namjoon. These works were separate from Smeraldo fictions but equally as important, and if the Head was to be taken seriously, even more so.

After all, BTS was worldwide famous. To do them wrong, would mean our name was mud.

Kayla was the third writer on your floor, senior to you and she had handled Mr. Min’s book. It was a given that she would take charge for the other member’s books as well…

…only…Kayla was absent…at a seasonal meeting…

The fuming ears of the floor Head suddenly told you that maybe you did have something to worry about. With all due respect to Rena, you quietly celebrated showing up an hour early.

“Where the hell is she? What’s going on?”

We stared back dumbly.

“She didn’t call in sick or called off today.” One of the assistants supplied helpfully but cowered when the Head glowered at her.

“Well, that’s all very well, but who do I brief now?”

“Not to worry, you can brief Y/N.”

There was a longer pause in which the members of your floor, simultaneously, turned to look at you. Your jaw nearly dropped, head whipping to look at Rena; the picture of ease. She looked at you and smiled.

To her credit, the Head looked equally thunderstruck. “I…Y/N?” she asked.

You looked around meekly. “Yes ma’am.”

She looked at you askance, before resolutely glancing at Rena. “You will watch her, yes?” At Rena’s nod, she turned back to you. “Miss Y/L/N, I won’t remind you that this project is extremely important to Smeraldo. I would expect your utmost best, understand?” You quickly nodded your head.

“You will be meeting with Bang Sihyuk and Namjoon himself in two days. All information about the album and the HYBE workings will be in a dossier in your mail. Don’t disappoint me.” she cast another look at Kayla’s empty chair, sighed in annoyance before swiping her files over to her assistant.

“Until next time, people,”

When the room finally emptied, you immediately turned to Rena, “Why would you do that?” You demanded.

Rena looked exactly the opposite of how you felt. Stretched onto your nerves now lay the weight of the world, your world. You had been thrilled to get an internship at Smeraldo, working your entire life around the business and after scoring an actual job here you had never thought that one day so soon you’d be at the risk of losing it.

If Kim Namjoon’s book tanked – you were dead. Dead, dead and very much dead…

“I told you, Y/N, you worry too much. This job is probably the easiest ever and since Kayla decided not to show up…I mean, come on, you’re one of our writers…the job was bound to come to you. Head madam just needed some time before she came to you. I hurried the process up. Besides, how will you learn if you don’t actually do the work?”

“But…it’s Kim Namjoon…” You mumbled.

“He’s hardly going to bite your head off, Y/N. Chin up and head to the meeting like the champ you are. You’ll be fine.” She tipped your head back with her hand before walking out herself, leaving you to scurry to your desk, feeling nowhere near as consoled as you should’ve been.

***

Two days in and you were getting dressed up yet again. Only this time, your nerves were sparking like a frayed wire no one was paying enough attention to. You chose a simple but professional outfit, worrying if there was any way anyone could nitpick on it. You ended up switching to something much more formal (and in your opinion, stuffy) attire in the wee hours of the morning, unable to get back to sleep.

HYBE’s building was situated in one of the most upscale business locales in the city. You had to take a cab to get there, already deciding that no way would you have enough time if you took a bus or the train. Already the buttons on your top felt like an over-tight corset. Thankfully, you seemed respectful and important enough to the cab driver that he stepped on the gas pedal, having you step out on the pavement in front of the building with almost twenty minutes to spare. You swigged at the espresso chocolate mix in your cup before stuffing it back into your tote.

You could do this. You had all the qualifications…if not the experience.

You could not possibly screw up that bad, could you?

According to the dossier, the meeting was set in the lounge, somewhere comfortable and open, probably a request of Namjoon’s himself. You knew enough about the man to take a guess.

Inside the building, security quickly but thoroughly sorted you out. You were patted down by a friendly lady, who smiled as she scanned you out an ID and rifled through your purse. She spotted your Hello Kitty cup and chuckled, giving you a wink that had you blushing all the way to where you were supposed to meet – directions given very kindly.

Along the way you knew. You knew that if you ever had to change jobs, you would dearly love to take one at HYBE. The place was an eclectic mix of practical and fun. There were artist posters and records and awards sprinkled around, the most prominent being BTS of course. Sunny gold lined the areas, with crisp blues and greens.

You might have even passed a little park arena.

When you reached the lounge, a sprawling area of lush moss like carpets and pink and purple art work on peach walls, there were only two other people in. The ones you were here to meet.

You recognized Namjoon from the door itself.

Insanely tall and thickly built in all the right places, he stood at a window. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his baggy khakis, a thin blue sweater hanging over his frame, hiding just how muscular he truly must be. Your lips twitched at the deep rose pink hue of his hair.

The other man must have been Mr. Sihyuk, grey suited and glasses perched on the tip of his nose, steadily going through sheaves of paper. Both men looked up at your knock on the glass doors.

Mr. Sihyuk stood up first, hand outstretched but his smile looked a little confused.

“Um, Miss Kayla…how nice to see you, again…”

It seemed like a question, his eyes scanning over your face as if trying to place you and you froze. Your hand paused just a little away from his, eyes darting around to the Idol who joined his CEO.

“It was wonderful to have you with us again on the bio projects for the albums,” He continued, seeming unfazed by your gob-smacked face. “You did a brilliant job on Yoongi’s. I was sad to be unable to meet with you before.”

Oh…dear…they didn’t know it wasn’t Kayla who was going to be on the job. Suddenly you felt like sinking through the soft carpets, right underground. They probably had dossiers of their own, with Kayla’s name across them. They didn’t know that she had slept in that one day and they didn’t know that they were now stuck with you.

“I’m – I’m afraid there's some misunderstanding, Mr. Sihyuk. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m afraid Kayla was unavailable for the project.”

There was absolute silence on both ends after you finished. Mr. Sihyuk’s shoulders fell at your words, mouth parting as his eyes went scanning you again. This time you could distinctly feel him sizing you up. His eyebrows twitched up just so.

“Well then,” The other man, Kim Namjoon, the one you were supposed to write about, extended his hand. “I suppose we should rehash that welcome. Hello Miss Y/L/N, my name is Kim Namjoon. I look forward to working with you.”

You jolted a little, even stumbling forward to shake his hand, now thoroughly shaken out from your humiliated stupor.

“Forgive us, we must not have read the email citing the change.” Bang Sihyuk continued, spreading his hands genially.

“Don’t worry about it. These things can happen.” You fiddled with your bag strap with a tight smile, ignoring the urge to sway on the balls of your feet. The thick tension had still not dissipated as the three of you stood in a triangle, wondering who was going to make the first move.

It had to be you, shockingly. “So, um, shall we begin?”

You were shown a plush red armchair, Namjoon and Bang-PD taking the matching sofa as you were given the preliminary data. A small biographical book of sorts, more of a booklet if you were being honest; talking about an important segment in Namjoon’s life and his process and journey throughout the inspiration and creative take of the upcoming album. Standard, new age stuff…same as Yoongi’s…you already had Kayla’s old notes on the write up forwarded in your email.

You scribbled in small notes in your notepad while Mr. Sihyuk slid a small calendar across. “This is the tentative production and release schedule that we want to follow. There is, of course, plenty of time for you to follow Namjoon around and get a feel of the work environment, the studio life and of course, Namjoon himself. You’ll have quite a lot of time to write. The book will be issued and launched before the press conference and promotions will be done along with availability of the bio in stores.”

You studied the calendar before slipping it into your bag. “Thank you, Mr. Sihyuk. This is most helpful. We’ll be starting work from next week then?”

You were met with nods.

“Well, I’ll be off. It was wonderful to make your acquaintance, Miss Y/L/N. Please, forgive us about the whole Kayla mishap.” Bang-PD stood, you and Namjoon following and with a parting handshake he marched out of the lounge.

You began to slide in your pens and notes back in the bag when you noticed that Namjoon hadn’t followed his CEO out. Instead he stayed back; hands behind his back, watching you pack up.

You glanced up at him in question, meeting his impish small smile with a confused one of your own. “I’m sorry, I just feel so bad about the…thing before.” He said.

“Oh please, really, don’t worry. I’m, like, very new to this so it was bound to happen.” You waved a hand, slinging your tote on your shoulder, preparing to leave.

“Drive safe.” He said, gesturing for you to walk before him.

“Don’t have a car,” You blurted out instinctively before mentally slapping yourself.

“Oh, do you need a car? I’m sure we can get one to take you back to the office.”

“No, no, please.” Your ears burned at the thought of taking one of HYBE’s no doubt lavish company cars to simply take you back to Smeraldo. “I’ll just take a cab.”

You didn’t wait for his reply, shooting a quick smile and wave as you nearly rushed towards the exit.

***

Next week saw a dip in temperature, with you arriving at HYBE wrapped in a coat and scarf. You pulled off your beanie when the kind lady at the desk handed you your lanyard, this time stamped across it were the words EMPLOYEE/ COLLABORATOR. It felt heavy around your neck, the figurative noose as it were, in case you messed up.

Namjoon met you near the reception desk, jogging over from one of the elevators. “Hey!” He smiled wide, rosy hair glinting under the lights. “You’re right on time.”

“Oh,” You wondered if they were watching you for slip-ups and punctuality was one area they were scrutinizing. “On time for what?”

“To meet up; it’s so cold we’re all taking coffee breaks every ten minutes. I thought we could just work in the café?”

Namjoon rubbed his large palms together, drawing your attention to his fingers – soft and perfectly formed. You cleared your throat, shocked at yourself – tightly smiling back.

“Sure, lead the way.” As if you were going to refuse a request from Kim Namjoon himself, you and he walked the same route as you had the first time you’d come here. Only this time, you passed the lounge and followed another hallway which led to what was obviously the cafeteria. The back was lined with counters and serving tables of buffets. There were couches strewn about, booths, and tables. You felt like you were back in school. You hoped the food would be better.

Namjoon led you first to the serving tables. Stirring himself a simple cup of coffee, he turned to you. “Anything you want, you can find here. Sandwiches, subs, ramen, noodles, yeah, we have to go out if you want something more…sustainable.”

“No, this is great.” You gratefully tore open a mixer packet of hot chocolate, bringing out your own mug to put it in. you’d sipped the drink in the journey over, before finally realizing you’d emptied it.

Your new muse raised his eyebrow at the Hello Kitty but didn’t say anything, only suppressing an amused smile. You pretended not to notice that.

Once you were sitting at one of the tables near the windows, you spread your recorder, notebook, pens and cup, ready to work. “Ok, shall we start?”

Namjoon took the final gulp of his coffee, nodding.

“Right so, you’re going to be writing the prologue of the book yourself.” You muttered, flitting through the primary requirements.

“Yep, it’ll be more of a front to my thoughts which you’ll be writing about. It’ll be a personal note to the members, the staff and ARMY from me. Something that is completely mine but it will set the tone for your work.” Namjoon turned his phone to you, tapping a note on it. “I already have the first draft for it. It’ll be revised of course but I’ll email it to you so you can start with that.”

You picked up your pen and then it was only Namjoon talking about how the primary idea for the album came to life and began to gestate in his mind. You found it incredible, how a small incident or a sound could inspire someone like that. You’d never had any experience that moved you like that. You told him as such, wistful of the kind of inspiration that might never ever come.

Namjoon placed an elbow on the table, looking keenly at you. “You’re a writer.” He pointed out.

“Not really; I am working as such, yeah, but I wouldn’t say I’ve been inspired by anything. You have. I think you’ve been inspired since you were…what, fifteen?”

“I had a different beginning than yours, yes. But you can’t compare inspiration with experience. Experience comes after inspiration. Before, there’s only the feeling, the emotion that leads to it. Would you say that you started writing out of just an everyday inspiration, or did you feel something for the craft that drove you to it?”

“I wouldn’t say that’s a fair comparison.” You fiddled with the pages of notes. “I know your beginning, of course, everyone does. I didn’t have that kind of harsh circumstances pushing me to motivation. To be very honest…I’d say I’ve breezed past life. I love my job, but I don’t have much to show in the journey to it.”

Namjoon was silent for a few moments. His tongue poked into his cheek as he regarded you shrewdly. Finally, he gave you a sweet smile, eyes scrunching and dimples popping. Your pen stopped twirling in your fingers, blood easing in your veins at the simple change of expression.

“And that’s okay,” he said, “Not everyone should have to suffer through awful situations to achieve things they aim for. Success shouldn’t be measured in tears, Y/N. The point of life, in my opinion, is happiness and in the end that is what matters; the fact that you end up happy.”

You blinked as Namjoon’s blinding smile dimmed, turning into moonshine as he ran a finger over the rim of his empty cup. The seconds stretched by, you silently removing your gaze from his and taking down everything he had said. Your eyes wanted very badly to return to his face but you kept them firmly on the page, pondering his words, until you realized through your daze that he was speaking again.

“I’m sorry again, about PD-nim and the whole Kayla thing. The email we got was sitting in the inbox but we weren’t informed and neither did we think of checking the company email before the meeting itself.” His voice had softened, turned apologetic that had you hurrying to ease his conscience.

“I already told you, it’s no biggie, really.” You insisted.

“It must’ve been nerve-wracking, especially on the first day.”

You huffed, air whistling from your lips at him, before acquiescing, “Yeah, ok, maybe a little.”

That moonshine smile brightened again, defeating the sun beams that streaked through the windows. “Allow me to make up for it by giving you a tour of our studios. Same time, tomorrow.”

At that time, you were only glad that you could gaze at his face without an excuse.

***

It took you a few days, getting used to the new schedule. You were used to the short walk from your home to Smeraldo. You were used to the morning crispness on your cheeks, the thud of your feet on the pavement and then the warm confines of your office cubicle.

The new pattern involved you having to catch a cab everyday to HYBE. It wasn’t too expensive thankfully, and the hours you spent in the expanse of HYBE, shadowing Namjoon to his haunts and work areas was starting to prove much more enjoyable and rewarding than anything you’d be doing in Smeraldo.

You were drawn into the chatter and gossip of the makeup artists, the lady who intercepted you daily at the desk struck up more conversations with you when you entered. She had a son, you’d learned. Her husband worked away from the city but he commuted every weekend and they found time for getaways whenever they could.

The most jolting experience was meeting the rest of Bangtan.

Namjoon had asked you to accompany him to one of the group practices and when you entered the huge mirrored room, you spotted the rest of the boys sitting here and there, some on their phones, the other stretching.

“Hey guys,” Namjoon slipped the strap of his work out bag over his head, turning slightly to the side to show you standing behind him to the rest of the idols. You raised a hand awkwardly, waving.

“You brought a friend?” One of the men at the back asked – Jimin, with his baby features and an inquisitive smile.

“Actually, this is Y/N. She’s the one doing the bio book for the album for me this time.” He placed a hand gently on your back, pushing you ahead when you failed to step forward.

“Uh, hi,” you mumbled, “nice to meet you all. I’m Y/N.”

“Yeah, Hyung just said.”

Your cheeks immediately heated, helplessly turning to the one who’d spoken.

“Yah, Jungkook-ah, be nice.” A taller man – Jin - smacked the back of the maknae’s head, before smiling at you. “It is very nice to meet you, Y/N. Are you going to be working while we practice?”

The gentle voice of the older man did wonders for you. Reminded of Rena’s composure, you immediately brightened, bowing to them naturally. “Yes sir, I am supposed to be shadowing Mr. Kim so…I hope you don’t mind.”

This made them burst out laughing – Namjoon included.

“‘Mr. Kim’, wow, Namjoon you’ve traumatized the girl. Please don’t be so formal, we’re not used to it.” Jin chortled.

Namjoon rolled his eyes, taking your elbow gently to guide you to sit on one of the cushions against the back wall. “You can sit here and watch. We won’t kick you in the face that way.” He winked and you managed a weak giggle back when you had recovered enough.

Why, oh why did he have to be so attractive? In those loose black shorts, that blasted white tank, you hadn’t been able to quite meet his eyes ever since you’d met him today.

You decided to obey the laws of ‘work’ as BTS practiced their routines. You pulled out your usual supply of pens and your trusty notebook and began to scrawl everything you’d observed, this time the process of choreography and how the dynamics between the group members and Namjoon worked in these hard routines. It took you about five pages, filling out and circling details that you would highlight in the bio.

Soon enough, you ran out of work to distract you. You folded your hands in your lap neatly, simply watching in awe. Each member hit the beat with a different type of attitude. If Jungkook was sleek as a panther, Hoseok was a coiled serpent, but none of them ever missed a beat. There was a tandem between them all, which made you sure that they took this very seriously. After all, they were known for their work ethic and it was their bread and butter.

They couldn’t slack in this just as much as you couldn’t slack in the bio.

Your eyes drifted back to Namjoon. Even though you knew, he wouldn’t describe himself as a dancer primarily, he was no less behind in his steps than his members. He moved with an awkward grace not unlike people of his height. God of Destruction – you remembered – and yet, you couldn’t help but watch when he moved. His chin jutted in concentration and you balled your fist under your chin, chiding yourself.

You were self aware enough to recognize the flow of your emotions and right now, they were particularly worrying. You were in awe of Kim Namjoon, anyone with any semblance of sense would be. He was intelligent, chivalrous, generous, charming, thoughtful, and humorous and in the days you’d worked with him, more than just books and music. He was a fun and charming person to be around and he attracted people like moths.

But…he was way beyond human leagues.

Someone like Kim Namjoon couldn’t be human. He had to be some eldritch being, put together into conception out of pure matter and stardust. There was no way his mind and his soul were meant to be meandering on this planet. And while you were aware he was far from purposeless, you wondered if he would ever be satisfied with his purpose in time.

Maybe…maybe not…

And you, as the self aware person as you were, couldn’t – shouldn’t – be having such tumultuous emotions regarding him. He was pink roses, a dusty shade of gold that had been polished and made to shine from a young age and he basked in the glow of adoration. He was at a peak you couldn’t hope to touch.

Never mind the fact that feelings mixing with work were always dangerous. You had no room for failure if these got in the way. You couldn’t afford to lose your job. You would lose everything you had staked and for what? You couldn’t throw your life away for an unattainable man. You sighed, closed your eyes and ducked your head before any of the men could notice your hard stares.

***

If you had to pick a climax for your journey with Namjoon, you’d pick the day he texted you a weekly schedule filled with interviews and media covered events that you couldn’t shadow him to. What would you do? You couldn’t exactly carry a notepad and pens in your mouth after him like a loyal puppy while he did his job. The interviews were okay, all you had to do was stand at the back behind the camera and note the way he answered his questions and if it was an English interview, the way he deflected stupid and rude questions from his members. Although it was clear by their now unimpressed faces they knew exactly what was going on.

The trouble was the red carpet event that you couldn’t push through. It would be a shame too, since this would be one of the prime times to jot a piece of Namjoon down. In front of flashing cameras, strutting with his head held high, knowing and projecting assurance. It would’ve been a great detail in the bio.

Apparently Namjoon thought the same, because as soon as he saw blue ticks in your text chat, he called you.

“So, what do you think?” He asked.

“About what, the event…? It’s too bad, I’ll watch it on TV and you can tell me how it goes over ice-cream.” You answered, in the face of his snort.

“Or…you could just come with me as my plus one. As a friend, of course, you can sit with that little note of yours and keep writing while people scream in my ear.”

You clutched the phone hard. He wanted you to come with him? He wanted to take you with him to an event? A red carpet event at that…on his arm, with people around…but as friends of course…

“Um…it’s kind of short notice…I don’t even have a dress.” You hedges unsteadily, hoping he didn’t notice the abrupt breathiness of your voice.

“You don’t have to worry about that. I have a fashion extraordinaire handy. Text me your dress size,”

The next you heard from Namjoon was when a huge, pure white box made its way to your apartment door. The delivery man took your signature on a tablet, wearing a sleek blue shirt and pressed pants that nowhere in the world could be a uniform for couriers.

You carried the heavy box to your couch in confusion, fingers fluttering with the navy blue ribbon around it in trepidation. Should you dare open it? It looked very expensive. Maybe this was a mistake and it got delivered to you in a mix up. But it couldn’t be. The name on the tablet was yours, the address yours…

You took a deep breath and pulled the knot loose.

The ribbon fell away gracefully, the top of the box grasped in your fingers and then you opened it up.

If you weren’t holding your breath…you’d have gasped.

Inside was a gown. Ok, that was a massive understatement. The fabric was thick, layers and layers of silk and glitter draped over each other to make a thing of dreams. The delicate straps of it felt like gauze, slipping over your skin when you pulled it out in pure awe.

You couldn’t possibly wear something like this. You could never pull it off. You glanced at the mirror near your door, the skirts catching the light of your room and sparkling.

You’d be wearing a million stars sewn on your body.

Your phone chimed the very moment your weak fingers were about to drop the dress, a sacrilege that proved you unworthy of it.

Hope you liked it J I’ll pick you up at 7.

And he didn’t take your calls. He didn’t hear you out. He didn’t listen to you list the reasons why you couldn’t do this, shouldn’t do this.

Your heart was already beating drums in your chest, each set letting you know that it was misreading this gesture. Namjoon wasn’t wooing you with this dress. He was simply making sure you didn’t look like a garbage can next to him. After all, red carpets meant celebrities, paparazzi, superior expectations. He couldn’t afford to show up with someone looking like they had barely been able to put together an outfit fit for the walk.

After hours of trying, at five you gave up, beginning to get dressed.

You washed and dried your hair, putting it up in a roll that was easy and you had mastered for your interview. It couldn’t be faulted…maybe it was a little simple but hey, you hoped the attention wouldn’t be on your hair. Not with that dress…

As you had guessed, the dress was heavy, weighing your body down till you had to carefully bunch handfuls of the sparkling skirt just to walk. You paired it with the lowest heels you owned, and a simple silver set – a gift from your parents upon graduating.

The brilliant shade of lipstick applied, you prayed and prayed that Namjoon wouldn’t find you disappointing. Of course, only so; that you wouldn’t be a source of embarrassment to him and HYBE and Smeraldo. It had nothing to do with you wishing you could be swallowed by the earth if Namjoon looked even slightly put off.

He arrived sharp at seven, even climbing out to greet you. Your trip in the elevator had been thankfully solo. No peeking neighbors to comment on your appearance but of course the building manager caught sight of you, gaping through the glass door of his office. You hoped he wouldn’t attempt to raise your rent.

Sleek and pristine in a black suit and silver shirt, open at the throat, your breath did catch at the vision he made. His hair was pushed back now and he grinned when you slowly tottered over. “Hi,” he said simply, eyes glinting in the glow of the dress.

“Hey, you didn’t take my calls.” You blurted out, again wanting to smack yourself.

“Yeah, I’m sorry; I got busy with speech training and fittings. They messed up though; I’m wearing shoes one size big.” You and he both glanced down at the polished black shoes with silver toes. you shook your head at the distraction.

“Namjoon, this dress…it’s too much; I can’t say anything right now but thank you.”

“Don’t thank me – it was Taehyung who picked it out.” His eyes moved down the dress before he looked away suddenly, hand moving to rub his neck. “You look great – beautiful, I mean.”

“Thank you.”

“Shall we?”

Namjoon helped you climb into the car, bending down so he could collect about nine drapes and pleats of silk to lay them on the car floor before shutting you in. You glanced at the driver of the Cadillac that Namjoon had brought and decided to stay mum for the drive.

The sprawling expanse of the hall where the gala was taking place sent you into nervous jitters. You touched the edge of the top, wondering if it was tight enough, if the necklace was enough to draw attention away. Of course, the dress was the highlight of your outfit, but suddenly all you could think of were the faux pas that could get you kicked out and possibly fired.

You had no time to turn to Namjoon with these worries, to beg him to allow you to stay in the car when valets were opening the doors.

Flashing lights, camera with too bright heads blinded you momentarily and all you heard was a quiet ‘wait’ from Namjoon before he was exiting the car.

He shot easy smiles at the front line of the media before turning to assist you. Maybe they realized that Kim Namjoon had indeed brought someone with him because the screams increased in pitch and volume, deafening you as well.

You were completely disoriented when you felt Namjoon’s arm go casually around your waist, one hand still holding your skirts so he could walk you at least to the main photo calls and away from the paps.

“Hey, easy, okay, they’re always like that. Are you okay?” Namjoon mumbled in your ear when you were a safe distance away, turning you to face him.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay…I just…wow, it’s a lot to take in.” You grabbed the skirts that Namjoon had let go and began to set them around you properly.

“Okay, all we have to do is walk this bit, get some photos, talk to that man at the end and then we can head in.”

You followed Namjoon's instructions quietly. Smiling lightly, when Namjoon posed in the centre of the carpet with the logo of the sponsors behind you two; Your posture probably wasn’t the most glamorous because the camera man shrugged before letting you pass – to the interviewer.

“Kim. Namjoon.” The white suited man gasped as if Namjoon had just landed from outer space and said something scandalizing.

“Oh dear, should I be worried?” Namjoon laughed breezily but his hold on your back stiffened.

“Not at all, it seems…who is the lucky lady? We’ve never seen you. Are we finally seeing the elusive RM being snatched up off the market?” The man took the time to level a polite smile at you before Namjoon waved his hand.

“Rubbish; I could never hope to snag someone like her. This is my friend; she’s accompanying me as part of a job.”

You noticed he never gave your name, thankfully.

“Ah…just friends? Pity, you look stunning together.”

“She is stunning but I would never claim to be as lucky as that. Do please excuse us, heels and all.” The interviewer laughed as Namjoon ushered you inside the hall.

Your smile had glazed over by now and when Namjoon sat you in one of the chairs next to him, you made sure to not move too much while he had to mingle.

As heavy as the gown was, the weight of it was something completely different now. Your wings had wilted back into nothingness, bringing you down to the earth with a less than pleasant thump.

Here, in the hall with actual stars around you, it didn’t matter if stars covered your body tonight. You couldn’t be part of this. You belonged in your cubicle at Smeraldo with books that had been your lifelong companions.

You weren’t stupid. You knew Namjoon being an idol was a consequence as well as reality. His proximity had blinded you, with those bewildering smiles and irresistible dimples. He’d poetically woven a spell that with him being now gone was breaking.

You were worlds apart.

Maybe this could be a story someday.

But it would never be reality.

***

Your realization couldn’t have come at a more opportune moment. As days went by, time spent with Namjoon waned; instead you went back to your little pastel cubicle, typing away at your laptop, pouring facts mixed with sentiment onto the digital document.

Soon, pages of this would be flying off the shelves along with an album. Your connection with Namjoon would be severed and you both would part ways as acquaintances.

That would be that. You tried not to think too much of it like that. It colored your work a little melancholy and you’d have to go back and redo it so it would be upbeat.

It was one of those days of you clacking away when a shadow fell over your cubicle. You didn’t lift your eyes at first, engrossed in the mild noises your keys made when the presence started to…feel hostile. You glanced up curiously, meeting the curve of an arm first and perched on it, was the weight of Kayla.

She wasn’t looking at you; instead her eyes were on the screen of your laptop, reading your work with a tilt to her head that – to you – was condescending.

“Kayla,” You called in confusion and her eyes flitted to you.

“Carry on, carry on, I’m just going to watch. I want to see how you’re going to do this.” Maybe you were paranoid…but she definitely sounded snide.

“Do what, type…?” you mumbled under your breath, about to turn back to work but she heard you and decided to answer.

“I want to see the new worker ruin Namjoon’s story. That way we can all go back to our normal lives.”

You stopped. Your eyes widened in surprise at the blatant vehemence. You turned to her.

“Excuse me, but I’m not ruining anything. It was you, who decided to sleep in and you who missed the meeting. If anything, you’re the one who ruined your shot.”

“It wasn’t a ‘shot’ for me, Y/N. It was a guaranteed project. I was sick, it happens. I’m just surprised they let the newbie take on such a big collab. But then again, being a lapdog pays in this industry. Connections are more important than talent, I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, you definitely would be the one doing Namjoon’s story justice with that attitude.” You snapped back. If there was one thing you wouldn’t stand for, it was her sullying Rena.

She smiled again, removing herself from your cubicle wall. “Petty fights don’t matter to me, Y/N. I’m still your senior and soon enough I’ll be back to doing my rightful share of work.” She walked off in a very final manner, leaving you to stare after her a good while before you could turn back to your screen.

The blinking cursor taunted you, each second that passed without it budging, a point in proving that Kayla may have been right. You growled internally, rubbing your dry eyes.

You needed a change of view.

***

Your laptop was now perched on the same table you and Namjoon had sat on that first day. Your back was to the rest of the café, eyes free to drift out the window. You sipped on a simple smoothie and tapped away, making good progress. At this rate you could hand in the first draft in less than a week. A hundred pages worth of a booklet formed much easier when your mind was clear. You wondered again if you could change places here.

You hoped at least this way you’d be safely out of Namjoon’s path and could also enjoy the lovely environment of the building. After all, one sin didn’t have to equate to ditching another, did it?

No sooner had your mind finished that thought when you heard his voice. Your fingers rattled over your keyboard, printing the stupid version of words on your screen and you had to halt in case he had seen you and was coming over.

When you didn’t hear that cheerful deep voice that was now uncomfortably familiar to you approach from behind, you took the chance to peek over your shoulder, just to see how he was – just that.

He wasn’t alone, thankfully. Next to him stood another familiar figure; much shorter and just as broad. Min Yoongi hadn’t been very verbose with you when you’d been introduced but then again, you knew the man wasn’t a fan of small talk with strangers. He was under no obligation to chat you up and you weren’t expecting him to either.

They finally picked up their orders, sitting at one of the tables in your line - Comfortably far away so that they wouldn’t notice you; but also within earshot of you. You sighed, returning your attention to the document on your screen.

“So, how’s the book coming? Any news yet?” You heard Yoongi’s baritone.

“Not yet, but I’m sure it’s going to come along fast. Give or take a few days maybe,” Namjoon took a loud gulp, scrolling through his phone.

“I hope so. She was new, wasn’t she? I didn’t remember seeing her when it was my turn. It was that other girl…Kayla something. What’s your girl’s name again?”

You silently cleared your throat, expecting Namjoon to snap in that you weren’t ‘his girl’ but he only hummed. “It’s Y/N. We messed up that day, called her Kayla. Guess we must have thrown her off her game that whole day, but she was amazingly professional. It was stupid too, that email was sitting right in the office email, and an intern missed it and didn’t tell us.”

“That’s what happens when you don’t treat your workers right. Even interns are deserving of respect. Maybe if they were catered to the way the company expects them to cater to it, it would -,”

“Hyung, I love your rants – but please.”

Yoongi shrugged, taking a bite out of his sandwich. You cracked a smile, biting your lip to stifle a giggle at Namjoon’s dazed expression.

“So, what’s she like? You hung out with her quite a lot.” Yoongi’s voice dipped, muttering something to Namjoon whose fingers stopped scrolling, a pensive expression on his face now. You glanced back at your screen, frowning, wondering what Yoongi must’ve said.

Namjoon didn’t answer for a long time and you had to keep glancing over, just in case he was actually muttering too and you were just not hearing anything but nope. He remained silent for a good long while, staring down at the coffee cup in front of him.

“I think…I think I would’ve preferred to work with this Kayla.”

You froze, your fingers hovering over the keys, making zero noise. You wished the other people in the café would quiet down and Namjoon would repeat himself but only this time you’d hear something else, something positive, something not so utterly crushing.

“Oh, she’s not up to the standard?” Yoongi asked.

“It’s…its stupid. I know it’s a shitty thing for me to say, but -,” But he was still going to go ahead and do it. He was still going to get those words out, unaware that you were able to hear him and have your gut wrenched.

What was wrong with you? Why were you not good enough to work with Kim Namjoon? Was it the rambling or blurting out thing? Was it the inability to retain composure? Had you messed up during a meeting that he was holding a grudge against? Did you somehow embarrass him during the gala? Had he already complained about you to his management and members, told them that this was the last time you were to work with them?

They had hushed up now, clearly having a private conversation and you were thankful. You didn’t know how you could handle hearing more. And you definitely didn’t want the rest of HYBE staff to hear how pathetic you were to their stars. If word got back to Smeraldo, you’d be fired. You’d lose everything.

You shut the laptop screen quietly, a hand sliding your things from the table top straight into your bag. Slinging your stuff onto your shoulders, you walked out of the room – out of the building – away from anything related to BTS.

***

You were resolute the next day, walking into Smeraldo with no words of greeting spoken to anyone. You got to your floor and then marched straight into Rena’s office, hurriedly knocking the prologue to the urgency of your matter.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” Rena frowned, actually getting up from her seat when you stumbled in.

Something did happen, yes. I got way in over my head.

“I…I…need to um, change – the BTS project. I can’t do it anymore.” The words rushed out, thick and unintelligible but Rena apparently got the gist of it because she dropped her shoulders, crossing her arms.

“What happened?” she asked flatly.

I have a crush on my subject and he thinks I’m the worst thing to happen since the rise of patriarchy.

“Nothing serious; I just…I’m not cut out for this Rena. I told you that day of the meeting. It’s too much, I can barely sleep, can’t eat.”

Ok, provided that was only one day because your mind was too obsessed thinking about what you heard but still – you could definitely apply the cases.

“What are you talking about? You just gave me your stats two days ago. You were fifty three pages in and climbing.”

“Yeah well I’m not happy with it. I’ve been writing in a daze. Please Rena.” You begged; you’d have gotten on your knees at that point but mercifully, after about nine seconds of shrewdly eyeing you, she finally sighed.

“Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed – and very, very surprised. You’re one of the better writers at Smeraldo, Y/N; I wouldn’t have pushed you for this if you weren’t. I believed in you. But I can’t make you work if you’re not happy and I certainly can’t let it affect this collaboration. It wouldn’t help anyone – so…fine. We’ll make the change. I’ll have the boss send an email…and you can personally go and hand Kayla all your material on the job so she can start as soon as possible. We still have time to make it up I think.”

You nodded, surreptitiously wiping a streak of moisture that had escaped without notice before you paused. And then you put in a request for Rena to consider before grabbing all your notes, drafts and your work laptop and walking up to Kayla’s more spacious cubicle.

She was reading a magazine when you tapped the side wall, eyes rising up to yours before her eyebrows raised at the amount of things you were carrying. Without preamble, you let them crash on to her neat desk.

“Uh, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m not doing Namjoon’s bio anymore. They want you to do it.” Namjoon wanted her, in particular.

Kayla stopped scowling, looking at you in confusion before her face darkened again. “Listen Y/N, I don’t care much for charity -,”

“It’s not. I swear it’s not Kayla. I really, really can’t do it anymore. Please…please just take it off my hands.”

Slowly, her face cleared, eyes still examining yours for any insincerity before she picked up your notebook, carding through the pages.

“It’s a little shocking, I’ll admit but fine. But you…why are you giving it up? It’s BTS. It’s probably the biggest break you’d ever get.”

You shrugged, unwilling to converse more than necessary about this. “I just felt bad…and ill about it.” You didn’t exaggerate and Kayla didn’t ask you to elaborate. You glanced down at the biggest bag which you’d placed under her desk. The box was still exquisitely white and unblemished.

“Can you just do me one last favor?”

“What?”

“When you see Namjoon, can you give that bag back to him? Tell him thanks for everything.”

***

The days passed quickly, each one easier than the last as you decided to stuff your stupid, pointless feelings – hurt and otherwise into one single compartment: DO NOT TOUCH.

Namjoon had had to meet with Kayla quickly, to put in effect the plans that the senior writer was going to play with. She already had your notes, but they would still have to spend some time together just so she could get a feel of his prologue and run with it.

It had taken about two visits from Kayla before your phone started to act up.

He sent a text first. At a decent time…you were at work, taking a small break when the ping came. You promptly slid the notification aside and pushed the nagging in your head to look at it into that one compartment. An hour passed…then another before another message came. You couldn’t help but glance at the words even as you slid it out of focus.

Are you ok? What’s going on?

Namjoon didn’t text again for the remainder of the day and you heaved a sigh of relief. It would be easier to not mess with that box of goodies in your head if only anything pertaining to Kim Namjoon was taken out of your path.

Only…he decided to call you…

As soon as you entered your little apartment and took off your shoes, flexing your toes, the trill of your ringtone made you fumble in your bag. You almost slid the call to accept, catching yourself just in time when you saw the big white KIM NAMJOON flashing on the ID.

You stared at the name, a proverbial finger dancing over the latch of the compartment. But you couldn’t…you couldn’t mope over him again; you had given an entire day of wallowing up to his name.

Again, you heard him preferring Kayla. You placed the phone onto the coffee table and went into the bathroom to change.

Namjoon’s persistence remained impressive though. He called and texted every day ranging from thrice to five times. Almost every time you frowned. You had given him Kayla. What more could he want? He was desperate to know if you were okay, wondering if something had happened to you and that Smeraldo was trying to cover it up but you couldn’t bring yourself to put him at ease.

Also, it was getting steadily difficult to keep his name out of your life. BTS was worldwide, he was a global entity. He was everywhere…the media, the news, there were even fucking standees in malls for them.

But your job was keeping you busy, mercifully.

The day you had gone to Rena to ask her to put Kayla on the bio project and take you off, you’d also asked to be moved to a different section of jobs, just for the time being – till you could come back to yourself, or so you told her.

In reality, the editing and beta reader position that you now held was time consuming and kept you focused and engrossed enough to not think about the idol. Not every piece of writing was amazing, but fiction was fiction and you gladly succumbed to romances and fantasies that were wildly improbable - simply because they were possible in their worlds.

You could not be more grateful to Rena for this. You finished more than your quota of three manuscripts a day, sometimes even staying up at night if one was particularly interesting. You knew you’d have to go back to writing someday but for now, you wanted to do a good job so you wouldn’t let down Rena more than you already had.

You shuddered to think of returning to your laptop. It was a mistake to think that you were cut out for this job. There was a certain level of coldness required to be a writer – the sheaves of paper in front of you proved that. You had none of that ruthlessness in you. You were too soft, too sheltered. You had grown attached to a subject that you were supposed to present as facts. Instead you had painted him in a fantastic palette of misdirected emotions that he was under no obligation to act upon.

And so now you were hurt…and it was your own fault.

To write again, you would first need a spine, one forged in titanium instead of the malleable clay that had wrapped around the fingers of others so easily.

In some days of your ruminations…Namjoon stopped calling and texting and you were then rudely interrupted by Kayla, striding over to deliver news you hadn’t asked for.

“Mr. Kim took the dress back.” she announced as soon as she pressed herself at your desk. You looked up from your fourth manuscript of the day, peering at her through your glasses. Your back was sore and your neck felt lodged.

“He’s asking about you.”

“Okay,” you said slowly, clearing your throat before reaching for a bottle of water. “I’m okay.”

“He said he reached out but you never responded. Why don’t you respond? He’s obviously concerned.” She continued, putting an unnecessary emphasis on ‘obviously’. It irked you.

“He was my subject matter. Now he’s not. It’s inappropriate.” You barely kept from snapping, shrugging noncommittally. Kayla was still there, eyeing you in that way, that made you feel smaller than her.

“Well, I don’t think he feels it’s inappropriate. He’s enquiring about someone he considers a friend. He’s been known to care about friends.”

You put the manuscript down finally. You looked up at her blankly but she didn’t flinch. Instead Kayla returned your heavy look with one of hers, raking you down with an appraising look. After a few moments of silence she gracefully straightened and turned on her heel, returning to her cubicle.

You picked up your manuscript again.

***

The cursor was blinking again. The walls of your cubicle needed a wipe down. Some of the pens in your drawer needed replacing. You revolved on your chair once – twice – thrice before facing the darn cursor again.

It had been two days since Rena had asked (basically commanded) you to return to your original post. One because you had gotten through the work she’d set aside for you. Second because Smeraldo’s projects were lining up and they needed their writers to buck up. You being one of them now needed to get in the game.

Or you would lose your job. After all, even though Rena treated you like a sister, it didn't mean she was going to baby you forever. Her own job would be on the line.

So you returned, starting out slow, with slogans and advertising scripts. Only…advertisements meant media research…and you knew what you were going to see the first thing you delved into that.

When your phone rang, you were almost eager to get to it. Namjoon hadn’t called in a while – it was safe again. You glanced at the unfamiliar number once, curious before you pressed the accepted call to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,”

The deep thrum of his voice reverberated in your ear, travelling straight through your heart – setting it to thump unsteadily – and landed deep in your belly, burning uncomfortably.

Your fingers tightened around the device, unable to speak, unable to pull it away from your ear, unable to comprehend simply hanging up. Instead you helplessly muttered his name. The two syllables were heavy on your tongue, some emotion injected in them that you doubted he could sense over the phone.

It irked you that you had so easily been caught unaware. You had paid attention to every text, every call for so long, swiping him out of your sight to avoid the temptation and here he was, smartening up and using another number altogether.

You guessed his IQ really did pay off.

When he spoke again, there was no weight in his tenor, no sense of concern that Kayla had said he felt about your absence. If anything he sounded cold, indifferent – as if you were just another person he was talking to.

And you were...you couldn’t mean anything to him.

“How have you been? It’s been quite some time.” He said, formal, aloof.

“Yeah, I’ve...I’ve been keeping busy. What...about you? How are you?” You mumbled.

“I’m fine. The bio is going on fine, I heard from Kayla.” He seemed to be moving while he spoke, you could hear distinct shuffles around him.

“That’s nice. So, is something wrong? Did you need something? If you lost Kayla’s number –”

“Can I not call you unless there was something wrong?” he cut you off smoothly, pleasant while you stumbled to correct yourself.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just –”

“Anyway, so the boys wanted to throw a party in celebration of the album finalization. It’s a dinner and games thing so be prepared to be bored if you’re not into that. They wanted to invite you because you were part of the bio making process.”

They...they were inviting you, not him. It seemed silly, to be stung by such a tiny little detail but you couldn’t help the down-turn of your lips, the frown settling upon your brows. “What about Kayla?”

“I don’t know, maybe one of the boys will get to it. So, do I count you in?”

“Why me, Namjoon, I left the project, didn’t I?”

“Is that a no?”

You sighed, annoyance surging at the way he deliberately ignored your pointed remarks. “Fine, I’ll be there.”

“See you at 7. You know where the dorm is. Just tell the front desk you’re here for BTS and give them your name.”

He hung up before you could spill out another question, pose another objection. You looked irate at the blackened screen, feeling used and mocked yet again. He had reached you so long after you cut him off and he had had the gall to sound miffed with you? You stuffed the phone back into your back.

The evening would last long. You vowed that this would be the last time you would have anything to do with Kim Namjoon.

***

You had been intimidated by the idea of BTS before. After spending a few days with Namjoon, you could appreciate them being normal men, seven men who just wanted to make music, who were young, a little dorky but overall just themselves.

Coming here, standing in front and looking up at the gigantic building that housed the dorm of BTS and their separate private apartments, you could only feel the previous nerves spiking again.

Your fingers were shaky as you pushed open the heavy glass door, thick enough to stop bullets and made your way to the marble front desk.

The concierge, decked out in a cream vest outfit, politely smiled at your approach – too professional to not rove his eye critically over your modest dress. You were at the dorm of BTS, after all. You couldn’t show up in jeans for a dinner party.

He nodded when you relayed your name, giving Namjoon’s reference which had them flurry to get you an elevator. Once trapped in the sleek metal box, the chiming numbers indicated your rising panic.

What were you doing?

Why were you here?

You had cut them out of your life for a reason. Why would you willingly show up again? Inside, of course, you knew the reason. You had unsettled issues. You wanted to talk this out with him. But you couldn’t – which again, added to the question as to why you would accept his invitation in the first place?

There was no way you were brave enough to stand in front of Kim Namjoon and ask him to explain himself.

When the doors opened; the wide hallway only led to one set of double doors. You looked around once; just to make sure that you were on the right floor and not about to barge into some unwitting souls’ suite.

Walking to the etched wood, you knocked a hurried patter that sounded abnormally loud. You didn’t even have to wait long. The door swung open almost immediately, as if he was waiting right inside for you.

Namjoon stood in a simple black long sleeve, rolled up till his elbows. His jeans stretched tightly along the length of those legs. Huh, he was wearing jeans...go figure...

“Come in Y/N.” He said, walking back into the house. You followed, slower, clutching your bag strap like the first day.

It was...relatively clean, being the house full of men. It was also too big for you to take in everything. You supposed they needed the space, each one with a personality of their own but together all the time. You wondered if they had studios in the two storey house too.

You focused on Namjoon, who had by now moved to the sitting area, flicking through some pages, not paying any attention to you. There was no sound. No one came to greet you, not even Jin who you thought was the actual host.

It was...suspiciously quiet.

“Namjoon,” You called. “Where is everyone?” 

The man only shrugged his shoulders for a second and it seemed that he wasn’t about to answer your question at all. However, at the very last moment when you were about to repeat yourself unwillingly, he muttered. “They went out to eat.”

What?

They were out to eat? After calling you over to have dinner and play games? 

“So...we have to go and join them or something?” you asked.

Namjoon sighed painstakingly, as if you were disturbing his peace but he finally dropped the papers onto the coffee table and stood up, hands in his pockets.

“No, Y/N, we’re not going to join them.”

What the hell was going on here exactly?

“We’re going to talk.”

You had opened your mouth when he finished his sentence, pausing in contemplation to what he could possibly want to talk about. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying I want answers, Y/N. Why did you stop coming over all of a sudden? Why did you stop working on the bio and give it to Kayla? Why didn’t you pick up your phone when I called you? Why didn’t you answer my texts? What the fuck happened?”

You blinked, once, staring at him in shock mingled with annoyance. There was a lot to Kim Namjoon; you would be the first to admit it. But you never took him to be this cruel.

“Why are you even asking me these questions? I wasn’t competent enough for you. So I did the right thing, I gave the work to someone who could match your standards. End of story; I don’t understand why you had to bring me here.” Your vehemence faded by the end of it, leaving you to drop your head and mumble half the words at your shoes.

You kept staring down when Namjoon didn’t say anything in retaliation. Seconds ticked by and finally you had to glance up to see Namjoon’s face tight, jaw clenched and he drummed his fingers over crossed arms. 

“Unfortunately,” He began when your eyes met. “Doubt and Insecurity are two things that every artist struggles with in their line of work. There are no ways around them; you simply have to push through them. Work through them, Y/N; but you can’t let it take you away from your passion. If you felt doubtful of yourself, you should’ve talked to me, or any of us...you didn’t have to brand yourself incompetent and give into this negativity.”

If you had two cents of courage you would’ve screamed at him. Indeed, Kim Namjoon was a cruel man – a blind man.

And your nerves had finally grown into something more ferocious.

“I gave in? I’m sorry, Namjoon, but when your client is the one that ‘brands’ you incompetent, you kind of have to give in. You are the one who said you preferred Kayla. So I gave you exactly what you wanted. So stop pretending like you care about my insecurities and my doubts.”

Namjoon gaped at you like a fish, eyes wide and thoroughly confused. He held up a hand immediately. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

You snapped. “I heard you, that day, talking to Yoongi about how you would’ve preferred it if it was Kayla who was working on the bio rather than me. If I was bothering you that much or if you found me – I don’t know, not a good writer, you could’ve at least been professional about it. You could’ve emailed the company and asked for a switch, instead of bad-mouthing me to your damn members!”

Both of Namjoon’s hands were up in the air now, defensively. His eyes flickered around his house as he attempted to place the scenario you were describing to him. You saw the light bulb go off about a few seconds after. His demeanour changed immediately. His hands lowered, face cleared and his eyes scrunched before he did the worst thing imaginable that he could’ve done at that moment.

He laughed.

His body bent forward, hands clasping his stomach as his shoulders shook. His head dipped, chortles echoing around you as you stood rooted to your spot, stricken by his mirth.

In the moments that he managed to raise his head, he caught sight of you and laughed again, eyes watering.

You were seeing red. His frame lit up in flames in your head, fuelling you to whirl about on your heel. You marched away, almost at the door when fingers wrapped around your elbow, stopping your next steps.

You turned, seeing Namjoon already there, still smiling.

“Let me go.” You said firmly.

“I didn’t say I would’ve preferred Kayla to you because I thought you weren’t a good fit for the job, Y/N.” He said instead, hand loosening on your arm but not quite letting go. “I said it because...well, I was afraid I would be breaching our contract. Since...I kind of wanted to take you out.”

You stood there, watching Namjoon’s eyes flicker between yours, waiting for a reaction. His hand was still loosely cupping your elbow, fingers warm and splayed out over the skin. His thumb briefly brushed over the bone as if checking that you hadn’t frozen over.

But you had...you were standing stock still, staring up at the idol, uncomprehending the words that had spilled out of him. He had just said something very controversial, very brave...and very confusing.

You thought back to all your hangouts. The long talks that you scribbled down with your tongue poking out the corner of your mouth, the walks that you took, sometimes huddling together with shivers due to the cold weather, sharing hot coffees and chocolate ice creams. Telling him about yourself when he wanted a break and needed to listen instead of supply conversation. Then they changed to his texts, the good morning or good night texts that he would send, the occasional music recommendations and book suggestions.

And then the night of the Gala...that stunning dress...his behaviour...

Nowhere in any of these cases had you seen anything that spelled anything other than friends being friends. He had never flirted brazenly with you, simple banter being the only form of cheek you could recall. He was after all; your client and anything that could offend or upset him would result in your suspension.

“That’s...that’s...impossible. You never – not even once – I didn’t ever get the idea, not ever,” You fumbled over your words, pulling away or trying to once again but Namjoon shrugged, smiling sardonically.

“Well, I couldn’t exactly come out and say it, could I? You were working with me, for my company. I know the kind of pressure you must’ve been under. If I did say something, you’d have been obliged to agree because you’d think you owed it or something, just to keep the job. I didn’t really want to put you in the spot like that. The night of the gala I got carried away. I had a plus one and if I had to take someone, I wanted it to be you. I begged Taehyung to put the outfit together because I’m shit at high end fashion but you looked absolutely gorgeous and yeah, I owe Tae a thousand favours now but it was worth it.” He took a breath.

“I was waiting for the project to be over so I could actually, properly ask you out but well, I guess you heard me being an idiot that day and...” he waved his free hand vaguely.

“Oh,” you mumbled, your eyes leaving him and travelling back down to the floor. What else could you say? Sorry, I was eavesdropping on your conversation and got my feelings hurt and acted like a child? Yeah, you didn’t think that’d go over well.

“Which brings me to the question, why did you stop?” His thumb brushed over your skin again, prodding your attention to him and you shrugged like him, mumbling something about doing right by the client.

“Bullshit, if you wanted to do right by the client, you would’ve waited for me to say something. Changing people like that could’ve resulted in a breach lawsuit and I doubt you’d have risked that.”

You looked up at him again, irritated. Why did he have to poke holes in your admittedly stupid story? Hadn’t he shaken your world enough by telling you that THE KIM NAMJOON wanted to ask you out?

“You hurt me.” You hissed. “You made me think I was inept and it hurt my feelings because I’ve been attached to you and this book since day one. I finished the bio at home, for fuck’s sake. I lost objectivity when it came to you because you’re adorable, scary smart, caring, generous, a total goof and it doesn’t help that you look like a damn sculpture all the time.”

You yanked your arm one last time, successful this time around because Namjoon smiled widely, shyly, deep dimples poking into his cheeks that had you internally melting from how cute he was.

“I want to kiss you.” he said simply. “May I?”

What were you going to do, say no?

Instead, horrifyingly you started to sniffle. “You better, because I’m really ashamed right now and I will start crying.”

Namjoon was quick to cup your face, cooing over your squished cheeks in his large palms and he brought you closer, closer and closer to himself. Your hands clutched at the sleeves of his shirt while he pecked you lightly, dropping a flurry of equally soft and fast pecks on your cheek, the tip of your nose and chin before returning to your lips, delving deeper, testing the waters.

Your eyes fell shut, revelling in the plumpness of his lips as he delicately trailed them over yours, smacking kisses over you till you let out a giggle.

“Finally, she smiles.” Namjoon beamed at you, leading you back until you were gently propped against the door, your head comfortably resting on the wood and he deepened the kiss, bowing and moulding his body with yours.

“Should we be doing this here?” You asked nervously, when his lips began to travel over your jaw.

“The boys won’t be back for a while but we can head to my room if you want?” He wriggled his eyebrows at you, heat pooling into the skin he still held between his hands.

“Uh, I’m good here.” You muttered to his amusement. His eyes travelled back to your mouth, eyes hooding and then he was slowly leaning in again. You met him halfway and his mouth opened with the barest brush of tongue when loud pounding sounded right on the other side of the doorway, laughter and footfalls sounding the arrival of the rest of the band.

You moved away just as the door flung open, six boys piling in, “Can you believe none of us thought to grab our wallets, we have to go back and tell manager-nim to get the car again –” Jin grumbled with the boys stopping to gape at you in Namjoon’s arms as the two of you blinked at them like deer in headlights.

Then chaos erupted.

The whoops and cheers of ‘finally’ made you drop your head in a shy grin with Namjoon groaning behind you.

“Namjoonie finally got some!”

“OH SHUT UP!”

[wizkiddx]

was thinking for toms most recent ig story it sounds like hes working out early everyday, what if u did a blurb where the reader does it with his and its like best friend --> something else ? sounded like a you type of story, id love if you gave it a go ❤️💕

oohkay so sorry this lit just came through this evening and I suddenly got v stupidly into it (if u put in a req before that I promise I am working on it I just got way to invested cos this is stupidly cute) xxxx

summary: what starts off as tom taking you under his wing and some sunrise workouts together might just develop into something more

“It shouldn’t be legal…. to be doing anything… this fucking early!” Spoken, well yelled, in between the fake strokes of the exercise bike and your pants. All you got in response was the two men laughing at you, no sign of sympathy at all, as your gritted your teeth - fighting against every body instinct to stop the movements. Your heart was pumping like the clappers; breathing shallow and rushed and your arms… your arms felt like they were about to fall off. Combine that with the lack of sleep from waking up before the sun did at 5 am - meant you felt like your were in literal hell.  

Why ever you’d agreed to do these workouts with Tom and Duffy escaped you. Being the new and rising actress, with a new supporting role in the next Spiderman, meant you’d spent a lot of time with Tom over the past few weeks. Not to inflate his ego either, but Tom had been a real life hero to you. See, you were the complete opposite of his experienced and seasoned professionalism - this was your first acting gig. And what a gig it was, the second biggest part in a Marvel movie. You never really believed you’d get the part and even when you did, were pretty sure it was some elaborate joke, where Ant and Dec were going to jump out from some corner and go ‘ha its a prank!’ or something. 

Yet somehow it was all still happening, you had been flown halfway across the world to spend three months alone on a film set. Well obviously not alone, but you knew no one - you were a complete outsider. That, really, was the reason you’d agreed to do these sessions with Tom. He’d offered half heartedly while between takes as you were moaning about how out of breath you got in that scene. At that point, you’d only known each other for a matter of weeks, he really hadn’t expected you to commit to 5 am each and every morning. What he wasn’t aware of though, was how ocmplerly stranded and lonely you felt here, hence why you jumped at his offer. 

And yes you loved to moan and complain when you were there, however you were also so incredibly thankful he ever offered. Duffy, Tom’s PT, was a right laugh too and he took great joy in torturing you - and was also entertained by the new and inventive ways you’d insult him after he ordered you about. 

“Come on Y/n, 200m more and then we are done, even your little arms can survive that.”

“Really … not the encouragement… I was looking for.” Still panting, face bright red and blotchy as you pressed your legs straight again.

“Tom? You wanna help Y/n out?” 

“Nah you know… kind of enjoying seeing her in pain.” The British voice laughed from somewhere behind you, making you roll your eyes.

“Why the hell… are you not… torturing him?” He sounded way to comfortable and relaxed to be working hard. 

“He’s got a stunt heavy day today so wanted to go easy this morning.”

Now that was a bloody joke. You were BOTH filming the SAME scene today, doing the SAME stunts. 

“Did I forget to mention Y/n is on set too?” The joy in Tom’s voice made you want to do horrible things to him. Even though you felt like you wanted to collapse on the floor, you’d happily do a set or two on a punch bag right now - if that punch bag was Tom’s face. 

Before you could hurl some fresh abuse at your costar, Duffy called time on the rowing machine, turning the display off and passing your water bottle over as you slouched on the slidey seat. 

“Done good Y/n/n, I am actually super impressed with your progress” The stocky man patted you on the back genuinely, bringing a bit of smile to your otherwise grimacing face. He went over the chat to Tom about some boy shit that you couldn’t care less about, allowing you a couple minutes to get your breath back. As soon as you did and tried to dismount the machine of death, your ruined legs seemed to have other plans, shakily buckling so you ended up starfished on the floor, groaning at the dull ache that came with the sudden movement. 

And what show of concern did Duffy show you? A belly laugh that echoed round Toms indoor gym making you groan again, throwing your forearm over your eyes. It was in fact the curly haired brunette, who came and knelt by your side, wordlessly balling up the towel and placing it under your head as you shot your eyes open in shock. 

“You okay? Sorry… I might’ve taken our friendly competition a bit too far.”

“I just… just might have to gain the power of flight this afternoon cos my legs aren’t gonna bloody work.” Tom chuckled and shook his head at your dry humour. 

“Oh I’m sure we can talk to Jon and get that arranged… not like Marvel don’t spend years crafting the script and storyline for a newbie actor to change it all.”

“Might I remind you… they wouldn’t have to if your weren’t such a dickhead!” You exclaimed, sitting up and staring at him with an exasperated look than only made him burst out laughing again. 

“I’m sorry I’m sorry… I just cant take you seriously when you look like such a tomato!” His voice went an octave higher as he laughed at himself, the situation getting even worse for you when you heard Duffy join in too. 

The boy was bloody lucky you couldn’t lift your arms right now, otherwise they’s almost certainly be attempting to ruin his pretty boy face. 

/////////////////////////////

After a long day of shooting you and Tom were in one of the set buggies, being taken back to your trailers to change for the evening. There was a peaceful silence until Tom ruined it yet again.

“ Got any fancy plans for this evening then?”

“Well you know me, back to my lonely little old place and  frozen pizza - so living the movie star life.” 

“It’s a Friday! You not going out with your team or anything?” He sounded so bemused at your quiet plans, and mention of a ‘team’ had you cocking your head to the side. 

“‘My team?’ Tom until I get my movie star pay check I can barely afford my pizzas, never mind a whole persons wage.” You were still only three weeks into filming and although you spent an hour every other morning sweating your ass off with Tom - apart from that you’d tried not to impose yourself on him too much. You didnt want to look clingy and naturally Tom always had a mountain of people vying for his attention - you would go to the back of a long line. So honestly, you were still a bit of a mystery to him, right now you’d both only scratched the surface on each other. 

“Really? I know this is your first big job but I thought you’d have someone here?” 

“Nah… I mean I’ve kinda clung to the Marty on the camera crew but he’s going to see family tonight sooo.”

“Come back to mine. I’ve swapped Harry for his twin Sam, which is a bit of an upgrade cos Sam’s a chef. He just arrived last night. I bet he can one up any pizza you were planning on.”

“Honestly I don’t want to impose, sorry I didnt mean for this to be a pity party or-“ The buggy slowed to a stop and Tom instantly vaulted out of it, standing right infront of you and blocking you exist off the back sofa. Both of you were still in costume, Tom in latex and you in your corset-esque two piece, but then both wrapped in matching long line black jackets supplied by set. 

“No come on I’m serious… Sam’s dying to meet you and it’d be good to spend more time together. You know, cos of chemistry and all.” The last bit was a switch from his cool and smooth, normally easy going tone - into something a bit more… anxious? Just like that, before your brain even knew what it was doing, you agreed, smiling broadly and nodding. 

So barely an hour later, you were knocking on the doors to Tom’s mansion-ish rented Atlanta home which was much much more grand than what the studio had arranged for you. Even though you were here most mornings, this time it felt different. Yeh it was stupid, but you can’t help the way you feel and you were stressed. For no real reason… just, just because. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t awkward at all  and you especially instantly hit it off with his younger brother Sam. Everything just felt easy and simple which meant so much more considering you’d felt so isolated an alone halfway across the world for your home comforts. Being British too, simply chatting to the two young men about your hometown and growing up was just so familiar, it really helped you feel less homesick.  Naturally too,  you’d fallen into a casual and friendly ribbing of Tom with Sam, making the three of you spend to majority of the evening cracking up (or in Tom’s case pouting at the abuse). It was a nice change from the two on one attack you got from Tom and Duffy that morning. You’d all cooked dinner together… well no, you and Tom had stood idly watching Sam cook an amazing chicken curry dish - which he promised to give you the recipe too. Honestly Sam felt like your long lost best friend, especially when it came to your shared ability to berate Tom for anything and everything. 

About an hour ago Tom had stuck on the film, effectively shutting up you and Sam - thankfully for him since Sam was just about to get to some rather embarrassing stories of Tom as a kid. You and Tom were on the longer grey sofa; with Sam sat  the other side of the coffee table in an impressively soft armchair - looking as though it was swallowing the lanky boy. The calm, the silence and the comfort was only going to go one way for you though. After your workout this morning, plus all the running and jumping during the shoot,  after what had already been a pretty intense week, it was hardly surprising that you didn’t even notice yourself drifting off the sleep. 

Who did notice though? Perhaps your brown haired costar who’d been stealing glances across to you ever since the movie had been put on? Because as much as he hated to admit it to himself, this didnt seem to be panning out as a normal job. A normal job is something you put your all into, for a couple weeks, and then leave with good memories and a good pay check. Yes, he had only known your for a matter of weeks or so but it already seemed to be unfathomable to cut ties with you. How would he go without your kind mannered abuse everyday? You were just refreshing, new and mysterious. And Tom was more than intrigued, his interest was peaked. 

And it was stupid to feel like that…. Of course it was. You can’t fancy a colleague because things get complicated and awkward. Tom knew that. 

Then why was he now delicately draping a blanket over your frame and smiling smally when you hummed in your sleep, in what seemed to be a show of appreciation for the layer of warmth? 

Because you were his excited puppy of a costar who is giving everything she has for the job? Because he is worried and wants to look after you? Because he cares? 

No matter why, in that moment you were contented and as was Tom. Oh and Sam? 

Sam saw the tell tale signs in his brother. He saw the way Tom had been touching your arm or the small of your back just a little more than what would be considered normal while he’d been cooking. He’d seen the way Tom had been laughing purely because you had. His eldest brother never did anything rash, it was always a painfully slow process for everyone involved. But Sam thought this just might be the start of something. The start of a slow burn.

[pikemoreno]

lucky

pairing: marcus moreno x gn!reader

request: from @chibi-liz05​ “Can I request a Marcus Moreno fic (or ficlet, or drabble) where either Marcus or reader gets hurt (not seriously hurt) and end up in a med bay, kinda woozy from pain meds and they have a funny and/or cute conversation when the other one goes to check on the one hurt? Please.”

warnings: mentions of blood, injuries, death. it starts out pretty darn angsty, but gets silly and fluffy i promise. these two are hella married.

word count: 2.7k

a/n: honestly this is nothing like you asked for until the end? but this lil drabble idea inspired this whole one shot so i hope you enjoy what you helped my brain create? i loved this, needless to say.

i love this himbo and i’m so happy to write for him.

And thank you for the medical advice to @disgruntledspacedad! Thanks for helping me choose the right drug! 😆

wanna join a taglist? | masterlist

This was Marcus’s least favorite part of his job. 

As the newly deemed Director of the Heroics, he was the one to decide who went out on what mission when and with who. Normally it wasn’t too tall of an order. After all, he was chosen as director for good reason. He was perfect for the job. He was smart, organized, resourceful, and tried in everything to understand people-- whether that be in their personal habits or in their superpowered strengths. He was often commended for his ability to form the perfect teams for whatever job arose; and it came pretty naturally, it really did. 

That is, until emotion got involved, until personal bias compromised his decision making.

He was determined to not let you go on the mission, absolutely not. The band of powered individuals the team was going after were incredibly dangerous and unpredictable.They’d been a problem for months and this mission was all or nothing. The high stakes and vulnerable position made him incredibly reluctant to make you a part of the team that was heading out under the cover of night to apprehend them. When he didn’t name you among them, he was immediately countered by the rest of the heroes in the room about the choice. 

By all the accounts they were right. Given the tactics of the mission at hand, your teleportation abilities were perfect for the job. And if he was being even a little more honest, he’d agree with Miracle Guy that not sending you with them was a “disservice to the team.” It was and he knew it. In a very un-Marcus Moreno move, he was making the completely wrong choice and he wasn’t going to let the sound judgement of anyone else change his mind.

“Psion is not going and that is final,” he boomed. The room became deathly silent. “Now, go get ready. You leave in 20.” But no one moved, no one could. They were glued to the floor, watching their unflappable leader become uncharacteristically flapped. 

Marcus was the one to stomp out of the room first and you followed him without hesitation.

“Marcus,” you called, nearly running to keep up with long strides. “Marcus!” 

He didn’t even deign to turn around.

In a blink you were now in front of Marcus, hands out to stop him from continuing on without talking to you.

“No teleporting outside of work, Psion” he snapped lowly, but he still obliged your silent request and remained in front of you. You blinked at the small outburst.

“Mind losing the ‘tude so we can talk like adults?” You countered. Marcus lowered his head and whispered an apology. At that you stepped closer to him, your hands coming to rest on his tense shoulders in a soothing manner. “What’s bothering you, love? You know you can talk to me. This isn’t like you at all.”

When his eyes met yours again they were pained.

“It’s too dangerous,” was all he could get out at the moment. His exhale was unsteady as he leaned in, his forehead meeting yours in a much more “Marcus” gesture that brought you both back down to earth.

You sighed, fingers carding through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “Of course it is. It always is.”

“Not like this,” he countered, biting his lip. “These guys are no joke.”

“Neither am I,” you grinned, tapping his nose with your own before pulling back to look at his face in full. He laughed a little, but it wasn’t whole-hearted, you saw it in his eyes.

“And I trust you. I do. I know you’re capable. I just--”

“Worry?” 

“Yeah, that.” His eyebrows were furrowed. You softly ran a thumb across the harsh lines it made, smoothing them and making him smile.

“I’m not going to lie to you and say nothing is going to happen. Because it might.” He winced at the words, not wanting to think too hard on what “it” could be. “But I’m prepared and so is the rest of the team. We’re gonna watch each other’s backs like we always do and getting everyone out safely is going to be our priority over completing the mission. It’s going to be business as usual and it’s going to be OK. I’m going to be OK. You’ve gotta let me go. They need me out there tonight.”

“I know,” he sighed. “Just… Be careful. Be ready in 10.” You sighed in relief.

“Thank you, Marcus.” You kissed him. “It’s gonna be fine.” He kissed you. “We’ve got ‘em this time. I know it.” One last kiss, strong and lingering. You tilted your head, an invitation-- no, a plead-- for a deeper kiss, which he obliged before being the one to break it. 

“Go,” he murmured, “Or you won’t make it before they leave.” You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Be careful. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You smiled through the sudden onset of nerves before turning and walking down the hallway to join up with the rest of the team.

***

That had been hours ago. Now Marcus was in command with a skeleton crew, the late hours of the assignment sending most of the support and technical team home. He quickly decided that was probably for the best. The sweet little interns did not need to see their mentor so stressed and antsy. No, he had to be “on” for them, he had to be the Marcus Moreno. And he couldn’t be that right now. Right now he was an anxious husband and teammate. 

“Where are they now, Connie?” he asked the poor woman at the comms desk behind him for the upteenth time that hour.

“Trackers say they’re still in the hanger, sir. Last update was that they had the grunts and were waiting for the ring leader to respond to their distress call.”

He wasn’t responding. It’d been two hours. And that was a major cause for concern.

“Tell them to just bring who they have back here and we’ll keep searching for him. This is still a win as far as I’m concerned.”

The man who was on comms moved to press the talk button to speak to the team, but the comm crackled to life before he had the opportunity. 

“It’s an ambush!” Miracle Guy yelled from the other side, “We’re sitting ducks out here!”

Marcus’ heart dropped into his stomach. 

“Go! Go! Get back to the-” He heard your panicked voice call out, the sentence interrupted by a cry of pain. 

The room spun. Marcus knew he was yelling but he couldn’t hear a word of what he said. It all just sounded like white noise now, mixing with the jumbled thoughts in his head and the ringing in his ears. He must’ve said something right though, because everyone was working. One was arranging a rescue, one was calling out the vitals of the team via the trackers on their wrists-- everything seemed fine by the tone of voice, but Marcus couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t grasp a word that was said to him. He was totally on autopilot, only able to respond in vague nods of yes or no. 

“Hey,” one voice next to him cut through the fog and he looked up to Lucas, the man who ran comms, “They’re going to be ok.”

Marcus’s response was non-committal, not wanting to pull the young man down to share his current state of mind, but not allowing himself to share in his confident optimism either.

The next hour went by in a whirlwind and the next thing he knew, Marcus was downstairs in the medical wing waiting on you and your team to arrive. He’d been in this position before and the thought of it made his throat close up. The images flashed through his mind of a gurney and too much blood and a confused little girl and black clothing on a rainy day in April. 

He closed his eyes harder as if to block it all out. 

No, it couldn’t be like last time.

It was then that he heard the distinct sound of the sliding doors opening and the murmur of a small group of people. His eyes shot open and, though he stood to his feet, he felt that he could collapse in relief. There was no gurney. Minimal blood-- just a couple of cuts on your face. You were hobbling in, arm around Miracle Guy as he helped you keep pressure off of your left leg. Your face was pained, which probably should have concerned him more, but he was just too happy to see you upright… Breathing. As long as he had that, you could get through anything else together. 

He watched as the medical team surrounded all of you, asking questions, prodding delicately at injuries. Marcus could vaguely hear your voice cutting in and out through it all. 

“Super strength… Kicked… Broken.” 

They had asked you a couple more unheard questions that you responded to in a simple yes or no and then they were leading you to sit on one of the beds. He watched as you went, noticing the way you were looking around for… Something.

Oh.

He smiled.

You were looking for him.

In all his panic and then relief, it hadn’t occurred to him that you would want to see him just as badly in your current state. His heart warmed at the way your tired eyes lit up when they met his. He all but ran to you. 

“Hey baby,” he cooed, leaning in to capture your lips in a deep kiss. He’d never been more in awe of you, that you were real, that way you were his, that he could kiss you freely. When he pulled away he observed your injuries closer. Head wounds were always scary amounts of bloody, but he could see that all of the cuts were minor. He brushed a strand of hair away from where sweat and blood had plastered it to your forehead. “What happened? How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better,” you hissed as a stab of pain surged through your leg. He looked down to observe it. His immediate diagnosis wasn’t a good one. It was terribly hard to break a femur, but he was certain this was exactly what it would look and feel like. “Some super-strength asshole kicked me in the thigh to knock me down and--” You winced again. “They think she broke my femur, and I would have to agree.”

“I have to say I’m thinking that too,” he sighed. “I’m so sorry.” He kissed your forehead in between the cuts.

“What are you sorry for? You’re the one that tried to keep me from going. I forced you to let me go.”

“I should’ve stood my ground and had you and the team be mad at me,” he said completely seriously. 

“You’re ridiculous.” You side-eyed him, but smiled through the words. One of the medical staff returned at that moment, bringing over supplies to clean your cuts and asking if you’d like something for the pain while they got prepped for surgery. You nodded eagerly. 

“I’ll take this over,” Marcus said, hands open to take the first aid kit, “If you want to go get that?”

“Oh, sir I couldn’t ask you to--” The young woman gawked, slightly unbelieving that her boss’s boss’s boss would volunteer to do her job.

“You’re not asking me, I’m asking you.”

“A-- Yes, right away.” She handed him the kit and seemed to flee his presence to get an IV ready. You sat in silence a few moments as he prepared everything. He seemed lost, even in this small task. It took him longer than it should’ve to get his ducks in a row.

“Someone’s a little edgy,” you prodded, watching as too-intense eyes focused on cleaning dried blood from your forehead. He shook his head, eyes softening, but maintaining their focus. The whole endeavor was very clearly an attempt at keeping his hands as busy as his mind was. 

“I’d thought I‘d lost you. I thought...” His jaw tightened-- and it wasn’t due to the effort of wiping up blood. You stopped his hand from continuing its ministrations, lacing your fingers together.

“That it was all happening again?” you whispered. 

“It was like deja vu, baby. Everything was just like before.” The last word almost came out like a whimper. 

“But it’s not. I’m right here. I’m ok.” You brought your forehead to meet his comfortingly. The cuts stung just a little at the touch, but you remained there with him, feeling a deep, grounding breath fan lightly across your face.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You kissed his nose and pulled away as you heard the medic return with the Versed for the pain. Marcus stayed right by your side as you were put on the IV, a hand staying firmly on yours. Which more for him than for you if he was honest. It brought him back to reality and out of his head. He no longer had to imagine the worst, because the best had happened. You were really there. It wasn’t a repeat of the aching horror of seven years before, the day that still had you shaking him awake from unspoken nightmares. You’d made it home to him and Missy-- but he was going to be hard-pressed to go against his better judgment again, no matter how much the team needed you.

“Alright, you’ll start to feel it in just a few seconds. We’ll be back soon to take you into surgery, ok?” the medic explained to you as the IV was in place. You nodded. 

“In the meantime, let me keep working on this,” Marcus gestured to the bandages in the kit. As he got to work, he watched the look in your eyes totally change, the Versed taking effect. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, covering the cut that just barely grazed your right eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you sighed dreamily in a total demeanor change. The whole room lit up in his eyes. Marcus grinned at the way your posture slumped just slightly in relaxation. “And how are you?” you winked. Oh, this was going to be fun. He really needed to keep you talking.

“I’m doing great. Happy to be here with you, sweetheart. Now, sit still while I take care of this last cut,” he cooed. 

“Ok,” you giggled. “What a charmer.” 

“I try my best, darling.” He played along, enjoying the way the Versed had turned you into a starstruck girl with a crush.

“Oh noooo,” you squeaked suddenly.Marcus panicked, checking you over quickly for further injury. 

“What is it? Are you ok?” 

But you only grabbed his left hand, holding it up.

“You’re married!” 

Marcus blinked. What was in that stuff they’d given you? You put your face in your hands and Marcus tried to contain his laughter at the way your voice was muffled by your fingers. “You’ve been so nice and caring! I wanted to ask you on a dateeee. I’m so sorry if I came on too strong.”

“Baby,” he called with a sweet lilt to his voice-- still trying to hold in a laugh. 

“You shouldn’t call me that,” you sighed sadly, pouting, “You’re married. We can’t be together.” 

“Of course I’m married,” he held your left hand up now, “I’m married to you, you goof.” You blinked at the silvery ring on your finger. 

“Oh!” you practically yelled, “That’s so cool!” Marcus’ heart warmed at the way your eyes lit up at the realization. Even drugged out of your mind you were excited to be with him. He couldn’t help but feel likewise.

“I agree,” he smiled, “It’s very cool.” He intertwined his fingers and yours. 

“I’m so lucky,” you grinned toothily in response. It was so unlike the smiles you usually gave him: too exaggerated and, in a word, dopey. But it held the same affection. 

“No, I’m definitely the lucky one,” he countered. Your grin faltered slightly as you grew sleepy-- another possible effect of the Versed, he guessed. “Now, go ahead and lay back for me ok? I’ll see you as soon as you’re out of surgery.” You nodded in agreement and then right off to sleep.

Oh, he could not wait for you to get out so he could tell you about just how “lucky” the two of you were.

[daydream-believin]

What About the Smaller Picture (2)

Summary: Merlin knows best. And what he feels is best for you and Douxie right now is to sit around and wait for him to come back from New Jersey, Merlin-knows-when. (2) Your first day in Arcadia, it sure is something. (1) - (3)

Warnings: swearing, proofing is for nerds

Word Count: 2211

a/n: i hope to be able to make you feel the awkwardness radiating off of every part of this series

Hisirdoux’s special welcome tour didn’t exactly do its job of making you feel welcome. You supposed that was more of a problem with you than the town. It definitely wasn’t of any fault of Hisirdoux’s. If anything, he was being a little too warm. It almost felt fake.

People appeared to like Hisirdoux. All across town, he would greet friends, introduce you to them. Kinda like he was showing you off. You did not know what for. He barely knew you, yet he talked about you like you were an old friend returned to him. Like he was proud of you or something. You supposed he was establishing a cover story. And you weren’t sure why. Why not just say you were new in town? What tracks was he trying to cover here.

You stopped paying too much attention to what Hisirdoux was telling others about you. He was telling them that he cared for you. That he missed you. It was a lie, sure. But just hearing those words come out of someone else’s mouth were making you melt. It had been so long that it was hard for you to recall the last time a person said such nice things about you. That was sad. You supposed the blush on your face did good to add to the story he was telling. Made it more believable. You felt really pathetic that this guy you barely knew lying through his teeth about you was actually making you blush as if it was real. As if anyone really thought those nice things he said about you in real life. Man that’s really sad. Moving on.

The town itself looked a little rough. Like it had seen better days. It was apparently a hub of magic, so it probably had. A lot of the damage you saw looked very recent though. That made sense. The whole reason you wound up here was because you befriended a girl traveling with a pack of trolls migrating from this very town. When asked why they were migrating, Claire, the girl, had told you that their home had been destroyed in a recent battle. “The Eternal Night” they called the battle. You, of course, knew about such eternal night. You had heard of the prophecy, you just didn’t expect it to happen in your lifetime. And you may had freaked out just a tad when it came along earlier that month, the unexpected solar eclipse confusing you and your studies before you figured out what was happening. However, you had assumed the battle took place underground, you know, cause trolls. The town you explored with Hisirdoux told a different story. At one point you saw a troll walking by, under an umbrella, following a red-headed human woman with a baby in her arms. And the locals didn’t seem to care. No one batted an eye. Strange town.

What really baffled you though was what happened later in the day, back at the bookstore, when you cast a simple spell. Nothing too flashy, just a little levitation on a book Hisirdoux had sent you to find up on a high shelf you couldn’t reach. When he saw you, Doux made a really panicked gasping sound. He threw himself in front of you, shielding you from the people who were not even there, startling you, and throwing off your focus. The book landed on both of you with a thunk.

“You can’t do that,” his voice was hushed despite you two being the only ones in the shop at the moment, “It’s business hours. The mortals don’t know about wizards and they shouldn’t see magic,” he stressed.

“But- uh,, They look just fine with the trolls?” Confusion was written across your face.

“That’s different. It’s different. Look, the situation is weird, okay,” He made a little X with his hands. “But I can’t have you casting spells around the shop. Or in public, period. The mortals can’t see anything, okay?”

“Okay, okay. My bad. I won’t do it again- Promise.” Your face was hot with embarrassment. This was your fault for assuming. Fuck, he probably thinks you’re a wild card now or something. Not a good start to your professional life here. Or your relationship with this Adonis who’s reprimanding you.

“While there are some other wizards around town that I’ll introduce you to tonight, to stay safe, generally just keep the magic for when we’re alone and out of sight.”

“Oh, yeah, uh- Okay”

He grinned. Suddenly, he leaned in, catching you off guard. “It can be a special thing,” His voice was even softer as he was so close to you, “just between the two of us.”

Oh. So he meant when just You and Him were alone and out of sight. Ooookaaaayyyy. He winked to you as he separated himself from your side, and went off to the back of the store to continue unpacking a shipment he had just got in. He left you there, clutching that damn book to your chest, face now hotter than before, if that was even possible at all. Oh no.

Fuck, it was fucking day one. Day one! Day fucking one and you were developing a crush. NOPE. This was not something you were going to do. Uh-uh. Nein. There was no fucking time for this. Well, you didn’t really know how much time you had with Merlin and his addiction to being perceived as mysterious or whatever the hell was wrong with that asshole you worked for now, but the point is you did not have time for this! Hisirdoux was too much. Merlin really should have had the decency to warn you that he was hot. This wasn’t fair. Not only was Doux beautiful, but he was a touchy person. You weren’t going to stand a chance.

The thing is you had been sooo worried about how you and Hisirdoux were going to get along, you even brought up the concern to Merlin. To be honest, you had thought the old wizard to just be annoyed at your worrying, and that’s why he reassured you it’d all be fine. That you and Hisirdoux would get along swimmingly or whatever just get out of my hair kid. You were so afraid Hisirdoux would have to warm up to you like a cat being introduced to a new kitten. Afraid that he’d resent you since you were technically Merlin’s apprentice too now in a sense. And he was used to being number one, no one else to compete with for Merlin’s sparse pride since Morgana went astray. Merlin assured you Hisirdoux was very friendly. But like, would it kill the geezer to give you a warning that he’d be too friendly.

While you were having your little crisis, Douxie was humming along to the song in his head, stacking up the new books onto a display, trying his absolute dilly darndest not to think about what just happened. What he did. That wasn’t weird, right? Oh fuzzbuckets, he did something weird. He was just so used to playing up the flirty persona he’d developed he hadn’t even stopped to think about if he’d be making you uncomfortable. And he really wanted you to be comfortable. Plus, he felt pretty guilty he had to stop your tour around town to go accept a shipment he forgot. Strangely, he was really concerned about the impression he was giving you. Caring about what another person thought of him was not very in character for him. Not counting Merlin, of course. He was going to have to make this up to you. He really needed you to think he was cool. For professional reasons, of course. Definitely.

~ ~ ~

“SO! I recommend the steak because it’s the least disgusting thing on the menu.”

You gaped at the wizard sitting across from you in this sticky booth, peeping your head over the kitschy French-themed menu you held. He had no menu. In fact he refused to even touch it. Great. What did he know.

“I- What do mean ‘least disgusting’, Casperan.” You were almost afraid to ask.

“I mean that kitchen is filthy and the steak is your best bet for something edible.”

“Why. Why would you bring me here if the food is terrible.”

You were always weary of greasy chain restaurants, but you had expected this one to be at least a little decent, since it was a smaller Cali chain and Hisirdoux had fucking brought you to it your first day in the town. Surely he was kidding.

“I just wanted to show you where I worked nights. So you’d be able to find me easier if there’s any trouble. Besides, you can’t say you’ve been to California if you haven’t had Mr. Benoit’s. It’s like In-N-Out burger. Remind me to take you to an In-N-Out burger later this week.”

You blinked. “Oh – uh, okay.”

Hisirdoux continued, “I can’t have my phone turned on during my shifts so you’ll have to come get me directly if it’s a big enough problem. Make up an emergency. Are you good at improve?”

You looked around the restaurant, getting a feel for its layout, taking notice of where the kitchen and back doors were located, making mental notes of all exits. “Ah, well, I’m good at lying, if that’s what you’re asking…”

“Good enough.”

The waiter came to take your orders. Hisirdoux shared an inside joke with him. It should have been awkward, them laughing away at something you didn’t understand why you sat there quietly, but you were a little too fixated on how pretty Hisirdoux looked when he laughed. It was mesmerizing. The waiter took your order. You got the steak.

~ ~ ~

It was very important for you to establish connections in Arcadia’s wizard underground. Or at least that’s what Hisirdoux thought. You weren’t particularly a social butterfly. It’s not that you didn’t like having a large group of friends or anything, you just never really had a reason to have one. And Doux was hell bent on introducing you to every person in this town in one day apparently. You had met twenty-three wizards in counting over the last hour being shepherded through this off-brand apple store. You had so far learned no names. How did he expect you to remember these peoples names.  Scratch that. You knew one name. Zoe. Just because she was very annoyed at your and Hisirdoux’s presence in her workplace, and was very vocal about it. That being said, she didn’t make any real effort to get you to leave. You wished she would though. You were getting overwhelmed. Today had been incredibly stressful, with a lot of information to take in, and with only a brief rest when Doux was handling things at the bookstore. You wanted to go home. Geez, home. You realized that Hisirdoux had yet to show you home. Where was home.

You tugged on his hand to grab his attention. “Hey, I’m- uh – tired? Really tired. Can - can we go home?”

“OH. Yes! Home. Right away. Yes.”

Douxie possibly maybe had been avoiding home all day. It just, it wasn’t much. He had no idea how you were going to react. His space was small already without adding another person to it. Of course, it wasn’t any smaller than any of the one-room cottages that entire families used to share, but it was tiny for modern standards. Okay to be frank it was a back room. Not technically even an actual apartment. But it was his home. And now it was your home too.

Okay, so Hisirdoux lived in his bookstore. What was probably supposed to be a break room was his entire living space. It was… cozy. You set the backpack that carried everything you owned down on the floor and headed for the lumpy plaid sofa. It was nice and old, like a sofa should be. The plaid pattern covered any stains that might have been there. Hisirdoux sat down next to you, starting to fiddle with his hands. You looked around, took it all in. The was a kitchenette off to one side, a bed to the other side. The sofa was in the sort of middle ground. Notably, there was no table, barely any counter space, and various teacups on the coffee table, so it was a safe bet that he just ordered take out every night and ate it on the sofa. The twin bed was on the ground, and the quilts that covered it had visible holes. It struck you that this bed was the only one in the room. The one room.

“So I’ll take the sofa, until we get you a bed. I’ll, uh, figure something out with the space. We can put up curtains or something.” It was if he had read your mind.

You nodded, unsure of anything to add. This was,,,, going to be fun. A challenge. A test to see how long you can act normal while living in extremely close quarters with a funny medieval supermodel. Merlin help you. Something moved in the corner of your eye. You gasped.

“Kitty!”

“Oh, that’s Archie.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Talking kitty. How bout that.

[thr-333]

Just Another Class Trip :)  Part 3

You know getting dragged through a multi billion dollar corporations building to try and avoid your illegitimate father, a normal monday for most I’m sure.

First< Previous >Next

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

It’s official, I hate Adrien

Marinette groans, having been practically dragged out of bed for breakfast. Adrien was wisely backed up as far as he could in the elevator. She yawns, making it loud as possible and looking Adrien right in the eye.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have stayed out so late,” Tikki giggles, hidden in her scarf.

Yeah it turns out that ‘just need to help out one person’ turned into a it is now 3am and I am halfway across the city beating up a gang.

“At least the box was safe,” Marinette whispers back, she had crashed in Adrien's room, no matter how mad Lila would be, or because of it who knows.

And indeed Lila was mad. The second they step foot into the hotel restaurant the entire class turns to stare at them. Crowded around a smug looking Lila with tears rolling down her cheeks. Marinette just turns a sharp left to the coffee. It isn’t until she has downed half a cup and refilled it that she tries to look for her friends.

Chloe looks just as dead as her, so she sits next to her. Let the morning people talk, they were ready to pass out together.

“Kagami?”

“Yep, Adrien?”

“Yep,”

“Morning people,” They both sneer.

“Were you planning on sleeping all morning?” Kagami asks, eating breakfast like a normal person, what a jerk.

“Were you planning on watching me all morning?” Chloe half heartedly retorts.

“You are adorable when you’re sleeping,”

“Fuck you, I’m adorable all the time,”

“Chlo, language, please,” Marinette implores, nursing her giant cup.

“Shut up Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe snaps, face planting back into the table.

“She’s not that cute actually,” Kagami whispers to Adrien, “Wore a face mask she got green all over the bed,”

“I’ll get green all over you,” Chloe mumbles absentmindedly.

"Marinette,"

"Ah the storm is coming,took them long enough" She takes a gulp of burning coffee, "Yes Alya?"

"You cant just say that to a person," Alya tries to explain, as if talking down to a child, "Lila was up all night crying,"

"She probably just put on a recording and went soundly to sleep," Chloe scoffs, sleepily looking up from the table.

"I was with her all night!" Alya turns to Chloe, seething rage coming to the surface.

"Thats some impressive endurance," Marinette mutters, downing more coffee.

"You think she's been practicing?" Chloe smirks.

"This isn't-"

"Make sure she get's plenty of water," Marinette turns away, hoping the conversation would be over.

"Marinette!" Alya looks down at her the way Marinette often looks at her, the look at a dear friend who changed, "Can't you see you're hurting Lila?"

"Can't you see she's hurting me?" She covers that honestly by gulping down more coffee, she has not had enough for this conversation.

"You used to be so nice Marinette," Alya dodges the question, pointing to Chloe and Kagami instead, "Then you started spending time with these two, and, and you changed!"

"Believe what you want Alya," Marinette motions for her friends to stay calm, "But they stand by me when no one else will, especially you,"

"Thats because!- Marinette if you had just gotten to know Lila instead of being jealous this would have never happened," Alya looks down at her sadly, Marinette was sure Paris would have been up in flames somehow if she had ever trusted Lila, "If you just didn't spend time around these bullies everything could be the same, you wouldn't have become a bully too,"

"So what?" She spits bitterly, looking over at the table watching them, Lila looking disgruntled it wasn't an all out fight, "If I got up and joined that table right now, would everything go back to the way it was?"

"... No,"

Marinette’s pocket buzzes in a familiar sequence. Akuma alert.

"Ok then, not much point in arguing about it, I'm going to stay with my friends, the ones I can actually trust," Marinette quickly shuts down Alya's protest, "Now go get Lila some water,"

Alya walks off back to the table, everyone crowding around her. Marinette waits for the door to be clear, she has to leave before Alya finishes or the whole class will be breathing down her neck.

“Forgot something in my room,” Marinette slings on her back pack, “Be back soon,”

She was not back soon, she was not back soon at all. Luckily she should only be three minutes late for the bus-and nope they left, great. She’ll just have to catch up with the tour later.

Well, I had stuff to do anyways

She talks with the receptionist; her assistant should have sent her a prepared motorcycle to the hotel the day before. It’s a quick drive to the location she had selected specifically to be close to the hotel.

She puts on a simple domino mask before entering the building, she didn’t want anyone to leak her identity after all. Walking in she’s glad to see everything is not in disarray.

“MDC,” Her assistant, Liam walks up to her.

Liam was someone she met through Penny. He’s older than her and also acted as her guardian on most of her trips as MDC. He does know her civilian identity, which she trusted him completely to keep. She likes him because-

“Is that mine?” She snatches the cup of coffee as he passes it to her.

“Figured you needed it,” Liam smiles, wincing as she downs the burning liquid, it's fine she has a strong healing factor, “You said your bag was stolen? This should replace it, it’s most of what you had plus more,”

He rolls forward a pre packed suitcase.

“I would die without,” Marinette says in all seriousness, “So what's the damage?”

“No major problems so far, the security we hired is enough to scare away the smaller thugs,” Liam nods to some security personnel guarding each door, “They won't be enough if any super villains try to attack the actual show,”

“Mm, give them instructions on the night of the show they are only allowed to intercept small time, anything bigger they are not allowed to engage,” Marinette studies the room, there's great places to hide, friend or foe, “If they see anything they are simply to report it directly to me,”

“They can’t engage?” Liam looks around, trying to see what she is.

“They won't be able to stop them anyway, and there is no reason for them to die,”

“If you say so,” Liam leads her through the room where lights are being set up and walls are being painted, “So what's the plan if we do get attacked?”

“I’m sure Batman is going to have his eye on any big events,” Marinette approves of the color of the back wall, it looking even better in person, “Besides I’m planning on trying to intercept before any violence,”

“In other words you're going to make my job a lot more stressful,” Liam sighs, making a note or rather on his tablet.

“Not if I can help it,”

“You can’t,” Liam sighs again at her grin, “Didn’t you have a tour with your class today?”

“They left me,” Liam seems equally unsurprised, “But I should probably head for Wayne tower anyway,”

“Don’t get into trouble,”

“I never get into trouble,” Marinette smirks from the door, “Trouble drags me into it kicking and screaming,”

“More like keen and skipping,” Liam closes the door in her face.

Marinette strolls into the Wayne tower an hour late with Starbucks, she sees is her class, being a nuisance arguing with a tour guide.

“You cannot just leave a student alone in Gotham,” The tour guide all but yells at Madame Bustier.

“Marinette is very responsible, she can handle herself,” Madame Bustier more defends herself than Marinette.

“I don’t care how responsible your student is, that won't stop them from getting shot!” This time he does yell, “You need to go back and pray to god she’s alright and hasn't gotten lost for some murder to find!”

Alright time to break the tension

“Hey, what did I miss?” Marinette asks casually, Already sipping at her straw when all eyes turn to her.

“Marinette! How did you get here?” Madame bustier demands.

“I-”

“I think you mean ‘are you alright, I’m so sorry for leaving you behind,” The tour guide glowers, apparently threatening enough that Madame Bustier actually repeats him.

“I’m fine, I borrowed a bike from my friend in Gotham,”

“You don’t have a licence in Gotham,” Lila sneers triumphantly.

Oh look who actually did some research, how much digging did you do when I learnt how to ride a motorcycle

“I didn’t say it was a motorcycle,” That shut’s Lila up, “But yeah it is a motorcycle,

Worth it for that face

“Also I got my licence approved in America before I came,”

So worth that face

Lila opens her mouth, better than the flood gates, when the tour guide interrupts.

“Now that everyone is here,” He sends a smile to Marinette and a glare to Madame Bustier somehow at the same time, she gets the tinglily feeling of  miraculous holder, or maybe its just the caffeine, “We can start, my name is Dick I will be your tour guide today.

They follow Dick through the tour Marinette's group right behind Dick. She scribbled designs and took notes as he talked, asking her own questions. This got her dubbed Dicks favourite, and easy title to gain as the rest of the class lagged behind. Most were listening to Lila, only Max and Alix were straining to hear Dick over the chatter. Marinette would occasionally pick up a mention of the Wayne's and knew it wasn't related to the tour. She'd have to guess Lila was lying about either dating someone or saving their life, or because it's Lila probably both. A gutsy move in the Wayne tower she had to admit. Marinette could tell Dick was listening and would probably have that rumour make it back to the Wayne's themselves. Would the wrath of some of the richest and most powerful people be enough to stop her? not likely.

They split up for lunch at the cafeteria in the building. She saw the coffee machine and was about to make a bee line to it when Kagami pulled her back to eat some 'real food' whatever that is. She makes a break for it after eating the so called 'real food', right before the tour was about to restart. She reaches it as a familiar figure is also waiting.

"Hi Tim," She greets, getting him to actually jump, "You work here?"

"Hi! um-yeah," He looks over to her, "How did you do that?"

"Do what?" She takes the biggest travel cup they have available.

"Sn-nothing," Tim still looks uneasy, then his eyes lock onto the cup, "tired?"

"Was up till three am last night, plus jet lag?" She yawns, "Yeah I'm tired,"

"Then you'll want to put that cup back,"

"Hm why?"

he gets her answer when Tim ducks down, opening a hidden cupboard full of travel cups at least twice the size of her current one,

"Tim I love you," She fills up the giant cup, "You're my favourite person in Gotham as of right now,"

"Not Dick?"

"Eh, his puns are lacklustre," She shrugs, Tim spits out his drink, "You know Dick?"

"Yep, give him a hard time for me!" Tim calls over his shoulder, walking away.

"You got it!" She hurries in the opposite direction, late for the tour once again.

“Did you get another coffee?” Dick asks as they enter the PR department.

“They were serving them at lunch,” Marinette could almost laugh at how quickly he had begun to fret over her during the tour.

“I know, that was my brothers idea, or rather demand,” Dick sighs, someone else approaching the group to direct the tour.

“Your brother works here?”

“Sure does,”

“But you don’t”

This makes Dick pause, looking down at her as she sips at the coffee.

“What?”

“I mean you don’t work this job at least,” She shrugs, it wasn't hard to figure out.

“Why's that?”

“You seem uncomfortable, your charismatic but still lack the smoothness of a rehearsed tour, plus you seem offended that they are in the back chatting,” Marinette nods towards Lila and her posse, “Regular tour guides would be used to that,”

“You found me out,” Dick chuckles, “I’m just taking over for today,”

“Well I think you picked a bad class to do that for,” She looks over at most her class ignoring the speaker trying to get their attention.

“I think I picked the right one,” Dick says cryptically, then walks off to help herd the class.

“Alright you have to give me the recipe,” Marinette overhears from a nearby desk.

Someone is sitting on it eating a cookie, while the other taps away at her computer.

“Sorry no can do,” She shrugs, “I don’t know it,”

“How can you not know it, you baked them right?” He asks, trying to steal another one and getting his hand slapped away.

“Nope, new vigilante came in, beat up someone robbing my house and baked me cookies,”

“This is Gotham so I believe the first two,” He looks between her and the container, “But cookies?”

“They also gave me free therapy,” She shrugs, before tapping on the container,“And do you really believe I could make these?”

“Touche,” He smirks leaning back on the desk, “So who’s the new guy? With the Batclan?”

“No they said they were just passing through,” She doesn't look up from her computer, focusing intently on the screen, “Names Starling,”

“Never heard of them,”

“Neither, and I tried looking them up,” She sighs, pushing back from the computer in defeat, “Found someone, but it’s not them, actually couldn't find anything on them,”

“Weird,” He gets up from the desk, “Can’t imagine Batman is going to take kindly to a new vigilante running around,”

“Unless he adopts them,”

“That… yeah he probably will,”

"Oh no-CLAIRE" The speaker trying to wrangle her class stops, "We have a problem!"

"Sorry to cut this short," Claire doesn't look sorry at all, "Seems we have important matters to tend to,"

She follows Dick out of the department, ushering her class as she goes. Claire looks over at her like she has two heads, a mixture of impressed and pity, and perhaps a bit of jealously.

They get to go further up the building, to the higher floors. They reach a space that is mostly meeting rooms. He class decide to take advantage of Dick declaring they are completely sound proof, or maybe they took it as a challenge. Marinette is walking past a hall when someone leaning against the wall catches her eye.

“Auntie Selina?!”

They look around, only spotting Marinette seconds before they collide into a hug, she feels the tingling buzz of a true holder.

“Mari!” Selina picks her up and spins her around, no different from when she was five, “Oh, my love it’s so good to see you, when did you arrive in Gotham?”

Marinette watches as her smile morphs into horror.

“Wait, what are you doing in Gotham!?”

“It’s a class trip and- hey where are we going?” Her Auntie grabs her arm pulling her down the hall.

“Marinette!” Dick calls, walking around the corner, Selina makes a sharp turn down another corridor, “Wait!”

Selina is two steps away from running as she pulls Marinette through the maze of hallways.

“Auntie where are we going?”

“Down here,” She opens the door leading to a staircase, too narrow to be a fire exit.

“That’s not really what I was asking,”

Selina inputs a key code, the door swinging open as she is pulled into the room.

“Wait!” She gets pulled through another door just as quick “Was that wall full of weapons?”

“Just a picture sweetie,” She says sweetly, “Down these stairs,”

“Aunt Selina what are we running from?” They are running now, floor after floor.

“We’re not running from anything sweetie,” Selina speeds up, “I just wanted to show you a cool spot in Gotham,”

“Right,” Marinette raises an eyebrow, “I was actually with the class so maybe we could go later?”

“It closes in five minutes,”

“Like you wouldn’t just break in if we were going somewhere,”

“I promise I will take you somewhere nice,” She smiles back at Marinette, they reach the end of the stairs, coming to a garage of sorts, “If you promise to hurry up,”

“Sure-” She does a double take, of the room, “Hold up are those costumes?”

“Collectors stuff, you know,” They are surrounded by bat themed... everything, “Rich people,”

“Right and how do you know this?”

“I-” She hesitates, eyes drifting, “Hey look, the exit!”

They all out sprint towards the exit. Selina reaches out to open the door a second after it swings open.

“Selina,” The man smiles at Selina as she runs into him.

“Hey Bruce,” Selina jumps back, trying to hide Marinette behind her.

“Where are you going?” Bruce looks behind her at Marinette, who gives a little wave.

“Out! Got to hurry!” She grabs Marinette's arm again, trying to pull her around Bruce.

“Is something wrong?” Bruce grabs Selina's shoulders to keep her still and looking at him.

“Nope nothings wrong,” She wriggles out of his grasp, trying again to pull Marinette away.

“Ok then,” Bruce still looks worried but turns to Marinette instead, “Hello I’m Bruce Wayne, Selina finance,”

“YOU’RE HER WHAT!?”

“Snitch,” He Auntie spits out venomously.

“Why didn’t you tell me!?” Marinette asks her with the biggest grin.

“Surprise,” Selina gives half heated jazz hands.

“Wait! Whens the wedding? Do You have a dress? I’ll make one!” She deicides, brining out her sketchbook, drawing different designs, “What's the theme? Never mind tell me on the way to the fabric store, I’ll sketch up some designs,”

“Darling, please-” Selina is now getting pulled along.

“Oh! I’ll call Papa! I’m sure he’ll want to make your cake! We have to hurry, come on lets go!” They're already out the door, Marinette waves turning back to Bruce, “Nice meeting you!”

“What just happened?” Bruce asks Dick as he runs up next to him.

“She kidnapped one of the students on tour,”

“Who is now making her wedding dress,” Bruce nods, not understanding anything

“Did I miss something?”

I think we all did

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

Taglist:

@smolplantmum @flufflepuffle296 @dawnwave16  @caffeinetheory   @g-arya   @Maribat-2k20   @ladybug-182    @Actual-disaster-human    @fusser90   @messrs-weasley   @soap-lady  @paintedhope7   @zeneralla    @mochegato     @random-nerd-3 @clumsy-owl-4178  @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen   @too0bsessedformyowngood @certifiedbidisaster  @Purplegeekypanda @awkward0ghostfan @theymakeupfairies @tikki-marinette @insane-fangirl-of-everything @elmokingkong @inarachi02 @slytherinhquinn @moongoddesskiana @dast218 @buginetye @redscarlet95

[got-svt]

radio star: a svt social media au

summary: when yn accepts a job at her campus’ radio station her first year in uni, she didn’t expect she’d be anonymously singing stressed out university students to sleep. now, a year and a half in, she didn’t expect that there’d be people trying to figure out her identity either. genre: college au, slice of life, humor, fluff, angst pairing: ??? x f!reader

(masterlist)

warning: please don’t read unless you’ve read/been to part thirty-four !! this is the endgame point so tread cautiously ! but if you have read it or you came from there, then…enjoy;)

part thirty-five: worth it

Wonwoo held his breath, waiting for you to hang up. Maybe you’d tell him goodbye, thank him for being such a good friend and all the advice he had given you these past few weeks. His heart ached at the thought of you rejecting him, but part of him expected it anyways. He should’ve been more forward, more bold in his advances towards you. But he was terrified, the thought of losing you as a friend was much too great a fear for him to risk on something as silly as his emotions. There were multiple moments that he just wanted to tell you, to exclaim to the world that you were the one he wanted, and each time he found himself biting down his tongue — denying himself the simple pleasure of openly expressing his feelings. Wonwoo shut his eyes, it was too late to feel any sort of regret now. Not when he had multiple opportunities to actually make a move. 

He was halfway back to the dorms when you called him, his ringtone blasting through what would’ve been a quiet walk home. Wonwoo knew you weren’t feeling okay earlier, he’d spent so much time with you that he could easily read most of the emotions that made its way onto your features — whether it was happiness, anger, or embarrassment, he knew all the clues that suggested a certain emotion. He wanted to prod further into your claim that you were fine, but your years of friendship came with a certain kind of patience and trust, you’d tell him when you were ready and he was more than willing to help you out. He always was.

There weren’t too many people out on the street at that point in the afternoon and he had been lucky enough to spot a nearby bench when he answered your call. Wonwoo immediately knew something was wrong, you didn’t have to say anything the moment he picked up, you wouldn’t have called him everything was truly okay. He sat down, wanting to give you all of his attention, you were going to need it if you were distressed enough to actually call him not even hours after he left your side.

Wonwoo heard your voice, quiet and shaky, and it took everything in him not to run to you then and there. He kept his feet glued on the concrete beneath him, ignoring the twinges of heartache that made its way straight into his chest. It didn’t take him long to realize where you were going with that call, what exactly it was you wanted from him. You were about to make a decision, and you were afraid.

Afraid of how he’d react? Possibly. Wonwoo’s mind went into overdrive at the very thought, were you afraid that you were going to hurt him? Oh no, of course you weren’t going to choose him, he never had a shot anyways. 

Wonwoo took a shaky breath of his own, letting cool late afternoon air fill his lungs, he should get it over with now. The sooner this call ended, the sooner he could fall back on his bed and let the pain fully consume him. 

“Please don’t think about how we will react to it, at this moment that doesn’t matter. What matters is what you feel. We’re grown ups, we can handle heartbreak. Sure it will hurt, but we can move on. I can’t speak for the others, but I just want you happy. Even if I won’t be the one to bring you that. The only question you need to ask yourself isn’t ‘what about the people I hurt’, it’s ‘who is the one I love?’ ”

His voice lacked the usual confidence it did whenever he gave you advice, but he hoped you wouldn’t notice, he hoped harder that you wouldn’t call him out on it if you did.

Wonwoo waited for your response, seconds stretched into what felt like hours for him. He kept his gaze down on his feet, trying to stop the tears that threatened to spill. The sound of your breathing was soft, but he could hear it, you were thinking. 

“Wonwoo?”

Your voice startled him, sitting completely upright in shock. There was some hesitation in your voice, like you were wondering if you should even continue speaking. His heart shattered, you were about to break his heart, weren’t you? He sighed, Wonwoo figured that he would have to quickly move things along, rip the band-aid off for both of you.

“Yn, it’s okay, I can handle rejec—”

“It’s you.”

You cut him off before he could even finish speaking, his eyes went wide. This couldn’t be real, this definitely wasn’t real. Has the sky always been this alluring shade of purple and orange? One hand held his phone tighter, the other gripped the edge of the bench, his knuckles almost turning white.

“What?” He sputtered out, surprised at himself for being able to find his own voice. 

“It’s always been you.” You breathed out, traces of a smile evident in your words and voice — like you were just now figuring it out too. “You’re the one I love.”

Wonwoo hung up, the flat dial tone ringing in your ear, almost like it was mocking you for confessing. Your breath gets caught in your throat, have you been reading things wrong this entire time? 

You sighed, unable to stop the tears that freely fell from your eyes, you didn’t think it would go this way. Well, you didn’t know exactly what to expect so you couldn’t be too mad at yourself, or Wonwoo either. So why did your chest still ache, heart constricting and squeezing as you gasped for any amount of air that you could inhale. Why did you hold onto that tiny sliver of hope for so long, the hope that he could possibly love you back? Did he only really see you as a friend? Was it a mistake even confessing in the first place?

But it was true, he was the one you loved. At the end of the day, at the end of everything that has happened to you in the past few weeks, he’s the one you wanted. It was always Wonwoo, he was the one who stuck by you through everything, who was always on your side no matter what, who took care of you from the sidelines. He was the one who made you feel excited to go to the studio, because you knew he’d be there working with you. He’s the reason you looked forward to walking home in the afternoon, because you spent it walking beside him. He’s the one you could talk to about anything and everything without judgement, maybe some slight teasing, but you knew you could let your walls down around him. 

It pained you that he didn’t feel the same. 

That he didn’t feel the same rush of emotions that you did. The way heat colored your cheeks whenever your hands would accidentally brush, the giddiness that came with knowing you’d be spending almost an entire day together, the way working never really felt like work because you were around each other and somehow his very presence enough made you feel comfortable and at ease.

But he didn’t feel all that. 

Why else would he hang up on you?

Maybe he was freaked out by the suddenness of your confession, you had been friends for so long that it must’ve been difficult for him to see you in any other way. You just wished he told you that he wasn’t interested instead of abruptly hanging up. 

A loud knocking on your door interrupted your thoughts, it was rapid, incessant, like the person on the other side of the wall couldn’t possibly wait to be left in. You wiped your tears with the sleeve of your sweater, trying your best to make yourself look as presentable as possible for your unexpected guest. You knew there was no point to it though, your eyes were probably puffy, cheeks red, and nose runny.

“Who could this be?” You muttered, angry and annoyed at the disturbance, all you wanted was to have one good cry before you had to face anyone again the following day.

“What?” You called out, opening the door with so much force that for a brief moment you were afraid that you were going to tear your arm off. 

To your surprise, Wonwoo was the one at your door. He was bent over, hands on his knees, panting as a thin layer of sweat coated his entire face.

“Did you run over here or something?” Your head was tilted to the side, blinking back wildly at the sight in front of you. 

Wonwoo responded by engulfing you in a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around you, making you step back a bit at the force of his actions. It didn’t even matter that he was slightly sweaty from what you assume was the run he took to make his way over to your doorstep. Your heartbeat sped up, you were sure that Wonwoo could hear it, feel it even as your body was pressed closely to his.

“I’m in love with you.” He spoke, Wonwoo’s lips close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine.  “I have been for the longest time.”

You pulled back ever so slightly to look at him, “Then why did you hang up?”

“I would be doing you a disservice if I did it over the phone.” He looked back at you, wiping away the tear streaks still left on your face. You could tell he felt bad about making you cry, you saw it in the way his head was tilted to the side, how his bottom lip jutted out in the smallest of pouts. “I wanted to tell you in person.”

“Is that some sort of jab at me because I told you over the phone?” Your brows furrowed, lightly hitting him in the chest. Of course he teases you not even seconds after confessing his own feelings. You were about to make a teasing retort of your own, mouth parted just as the words were ready to leave your lips, when you heard him chuckle. Light and airy, almost as if he didn’t have a single care in the world. Genuine warmth and happiness radiated off of him, it was infectious and anyone could feel it from miles away. 

“I’m just glad you feel the same way.”

“I do.” The furrow in your brows disappeared, the look of fake annoyance turning into one   of serenity. Part of you couldn’t believe you had waited this long to tell him, but you knew it was right. All of it was to lead to this very moment. “I’m sorry, it took me so long to realize it.”

Wonwoo smiled the softest of smiles, his gaze on you tender — like you were the only thing possibly worth looking at. A hand reaches up to cup your cheek, his thumb lightly grazing the skin underneath, “It’s okay, you’re worth it.”

Your hand moves on its own, gently resting above his as you melted into his touch. Wonwoo pulled you closer to his chest, placing a small kiss on your forehead before resting his chin on top your head, a content sigh escaping his lips. In that moment you knew: you were exactly where you were meant to be. You were home, and there was nowhere else you would rather be. 

wonwoo’s epilogue <33 

[ginanosakka]

The War Has Begun

Masterlist

Mind of a Monster | Next

Katsuki had been quiet as a mouse since the meeting, and even as he handled the investigation and information he was being relayed by those part of the mission, he looked more in thought than exploding with anger at his current situation. Usually, he would be patrolling the streets, taking down any petty thug or idiotic villain that dared to cause a scene in his area, but he found himself patrolling for as long as many other heroes he knew that preferred to take this profession slow. It didn’t even matter to him that he was seeing icy-hot on the news more than him now when he sat in the living room with his son.

His son.

Those words felt so right now despite the fact that children were at the bottom of his list of things to deal with. Seeing that blonde boy with the same blown out ashy blonde hair as his, sharing the same eyes with that damn sparkle of the girl he was forever intertwined with, he felt nothing but pure satisfaction and peace. The same satisfaction and peace he believed he could only have by being the number one hero, which was the reason why he spent so much overtime as a hero to try and surpass Deku, and to never be lumped into the same category as Todoroki. When he thought of being number one now, he couldn’t find that same passion for it.

“You should feel honored that the future number one hero lets you talk to him.” Katsuki boasted, grinning like a maniac while you sat across from him at the mall food court.

“Being number one is a sham, you know. My dad said that all those heroes at the top do it for money and fame, with the only exception being All Might. I prefer heroes like Gang Orca, he’s super cool and he actually cares about the people he’s saving.” You mentioned casually, picking up another fry from your tray of food and chewing on it.

Katsuki simmered down enough to take in what you said, and felt the slight shade you threw at his goal. “What’s that supposed to mean?! You think I’m a bad hero or something?!” He shouted, and you shrugged while ignoring the stares that you two were getting.

“That isn’t my dream to pick at, but it’s not hard to see that Endeavor doesn’t save lives because he cares about people. . You said the reason you want to be a hero was to make a lot of money and show off that you were better than everyone else. Do you really think you’re an All Might and not an Endeavor?”

He stood up with his hair casting a shadow over his eyes, and before you could even say another word, he walked away from you. You stared after him in shock at such a negative reaction from the truth, but you knew that he wouldn’t take that well. It was the truth that he’d been facing since starting UA that he wasn’t like his classmates who all shared his goal, but you knew he didn’t understand what you truly meant. The heaviness of your words weighed Katsuki down as he walked away from, his insecurities that he’d hide from you shining through in that moment. You were right in that moment; Katsuki didn’t understand what you meant, but he can’t pretend like it didn’t hurt.

“Real heroes don’t care about being number one as long as they’re helping someone. . what a dumbass.” Katsuki mumbled the moral of your words as they hit him like a train wreck.

‘She’s always been that damn wise, huh?’ He thought as he turned away from watching the television with his son to you.

You sat not too far away from them on his recliner, your legs crossed and eyes intently focused on your phone as you typed away. All morning you had been like that when you weren’t talking or doing something with Ryu. The two of you had not moved forward since his apology, but there were no longer small acts of aggression towards him when you spoke, and in your constant teasing of his short temper, there was no longer any comments about the past riddled in your humor. Though that didn’t ease his mind about the unspoken rivalry that had sprung from your reappearance.

He refused to lose you again, and damn sure not to shitty hair.

Without warning, Katsuki stood up and stalked towards you. His sudden movements took your attention away from your emails with your assistant and you looked up at him as he towered over you, and you’d never admit that the butterflies in your stomach weren’t from fear. In a simple tank top and shorts standing above you was a man that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but you’d much rather burn the image in the back of your mind and keep your hormones to yourself than embarrass yourself.

“We’re going out.” He said as if stating a fact, and in his mind, it very much was.

“. . . Who the fuck is we? Ryu, you didn’t hear me say that.” You blinked at Katsuki as if he had grown three heads, before looking to Ryu who’s attention had moved to the both of you when he heard the foul word fall from your mouth.

“When I burn stuff I’m bad, but you can say bad words,” you heard your five year old huff.

“I mean you and I,” Katsuki explained with slight irritation at you. “Pinky’s been bugging me anyway, so she can-“

You cut him off and turned your phone off, “there’s no need to call her. My assistant will watch him and I’ll babysit you.”

“Pain in my ass,” Katsuki mumbled just loud enough for you to hear as you stood up, and you smiled in return.

Being stuck in Katsuki’s house most of the time made you appreciate the outdoors more, and maybe a few weeks ago you’d complain about being in the park without Ryu, but it felt like a stilled moment in time now where you could pretend there was a sense of normalcy. You could pretend like you and Katsuki were just frenemies with complicated emotions, and he could take a breath from that world of constant ridicule and popularity contests. It was never spoken between you two, but it was clear that it wasn’t just you that was causing him to be stressed and consistently explosive; the hero community was wearing him down for a while now.

It only took finding out he had a child, rivaling the girl he lost, and having them both be targeted by her father, for him to realize being number one wasn’t that important.

“So, why did you want to take me to the park . without the child that loves the park?” You said with mild amusement, you two walking side by side in your hoodies and sweats to be at least slightly concealed in public.

Truthfully, in his moment of haste to get a leg up on his own friend, he hadn’t fully thought out an idea to get close to you. It wasn’t until he made it out of the apartment, after barely casting a glance at your assistant, Nanami, that you allowed into his home, that he realized this may not have been the smartest course of action. And he’d never admit that to you.

“You looked like you needed some time away, and I’m tired of looking at you working when you’re not even there.” He said gruffly, avoiding your face and doing his best to fight the small blush he could feel heat up his cheeks.

You chuckled lowly, “some things never change. . Speaking of that, how are things with Midoriya? I was surprised to hear that you didn’t full on murder him when he was announced the number one hero.” You said, giving him a sideways glance to gauge his reaction.

That was quite a blow to his ego. It took him a while to recover from losing to the boy he had looked down on his entire childhood, and then underestimated in his later years until he was forced to realize that Deku was his equal. What he lacked, Deku excelled, and there was nothing he could do about that other than to work harder. It took a long time for Katsuki to truly accept that there was something special about that nerd, and the world needed him.

“He’ll always be a loser to me. . but he’s a decent hero. I’d be a dumbass like the rest of you to kick his ass about it.” Katsuki said and looked you in the eyes, showing that he meant every word. “You know, I can’t tell if you hate me or care too damn much sometimes.”

You hummed with a smile creeping up on your face, “It’s a healthy balance of both. . I’m not ready

to overthink us right now when I can’t be completely open with you, or anyone else for that matter.” The smile that grew had withered near the end of your sentence, and you felt a flash of guilt in you for dragging him into a battle that had little to do with him. You dragged an entire army of heroes into this, and you couldn’t even guarantee they’d have their jobs. . without using them like pawns.

“I’m not letting you go through this alone. I don’t care how much you try to push me away, your shitty ass is stuck with me.” He said without missing a beat.

For a moment you smiled again, and Katsuki accepted the uncontrollable beating of his heart around you. Your bodies had inches closer during your walk, and though your hand never touched nor did your arms link, you felt close to another. It was possible that it was a toxic attachment neither of you should be so content within, neither of you wasted another breath to question it.

You both arrived back at the apartment a mere few hours later. Walking in public together in broad daylight wasn’t the safest idea at this time even in hoodies, so it wasn’t long before you both agreed to turn back. The sun was still shining outside when Katsuki opened the door, yet the eerie silence that welcomed him made a chill run down his spine and every alarm in his body went off at once.

His body reacted before his mind when he stalked towards the living room, then to the kitchen, and lastly to Ryu’s bedroom to find absolutely no one. There were things of Ryu’s missing — some clothes and toys that he took with him wherever he could. There were signs that a child had once been here still scattered around the house, but there wasn’t any sign that Nanami had ever been here.

Rage, fear, and sadness were running rampant in Bakugou’s mind as he frantically searched Ryu’s room for anything that would tell him where they went and that this was some misunderstanding. He was cursing himself for not taking a second look at that girl, and he cursed himself for leaving his only son with her when he knew nothing about her. Had he stopped and checked her out he might have been able to tell something was off — he might have been able to stop his son from going missing and be a good father like he should have.

His frantic thoughts stopped suddenly, along with his movements and time. He remembered who else was here and wasn’t making a sound while he tore the room apart. Who hadn’t made a single sound since leaving the park.

“Y/N.”

The way your name fell from his lips felt like venom being injected straight into your veins, but your face remained neural even as his manic eyes made contact with yours. You didn’t speak in fear that any response would cause him to spur completely out of control, and you knew that whatever response you gave him wouldn’t be good enough. This wasn’t a battle you’d win.

“Where. . Is he?” Katsuki asked slowly through gritted teeth.

“I think you need to-“ you attempted to reach out to him and de escalate this enough to explain, but he cut you off with more fury than a scorned man.

“Where is my son?!”

Before any answer could be given the front door was slammed opened with a deafening smack, sending you whirling around at the sudden action. Thundering footsteps came down the hall and before you could even let the anxiety consume you, men dressed in riot gear appeared in the doorway of the room with guns pointed in your direction. Your hands flew up automatically, and they wasted no time swarming you.

“Y/N L/N, you’re under arrest for conspiracy and premeditated murder.”

A/N: A missing mother, a missing son, and an arrest. What a wholesome story. Anyways, the angst never stops and the tables keep turning, LETS GET CRAZY!

Taglist (Closed) <3 : @fandomgirllover @cloudsgathering @that-bipolar-renegade-romantic @jazzylove @that-chick212 @bonbonthedragon @misssugarless @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @bakugous-bakahoe @pinkykookie17 @animexholic @arielting @samkysnks @simpforeveryone @damnirina @deneuves @tsumuuumiyaaaa @vintage-teddyxo @regalmigraine @samvmgh @iamagalaxy @officialtrashbusiness @xwackk @videogameboiwhowins @marajillana @ellasdilemma @plutoneu @saucey-kneecapzz42020 @thestarsanctuary @dewdropwifu @star-light-imagines @kritiiiii @bakugosbottombitch @the2ndl @candybabey @simply-not-the-same @sam-i-am-1025 @mes-bisous @eternallyvenus @peppytine @chaelysian @definitely-yours @oikawarc @suneaterofthebig3 @m0na-l0ver @nkb0048 @losertsukki @notyourfavorlte @caramelsquares @hikaru-mikazuki

[harrysgloves]

Here Comes The Sun

word count: 3.3k

story summary: After dating for 2 years, Harry finally convinces you to move in with him. Only to find out the person he loves most in this world suffers from depression.

warnings: Language // Mentions of depression, anxiety, insomnia, and everything else that goes along with that fucking terrible disease. // Fluff because I really needed it.

a/n: 100% needed this pick me up short story right now. The depression is real. Always remember to reach out for help if the load of your own depression/ anxiety/ insomnia/ mental illness gets too heavy for you to carry on your own. We all need help some times.

>>><<<

Things in your life had been going so well. Everything seemed to be fitting together so nicely like it was meant to be this way. That, honestly, should have been your first sign that a storm was just around the corner.

You'd finally agreed to move in with your boyfriend of two years after months of him begging and pleading with you.

"Come on, love. It'll save money." He said trying to be all sneaky, saying that was the only reason why he wanted you to move it.

"It jus' makes sense. Y'know ecologically. Less travelin' back and forth. Really, do it fo' the trees, love." He tried another time.

"Harry, if you care about saving trees buy a Kindle." You said as you laid down your own eReader to gestured to the book laying on his chest.

"Y'know how I feel 'bout those… things." He said with a wave of his hand before picking up his apparently superior "real" book. The sour look on his face made the side of your lip curl upwards letting out a hum as you picked up your tablet again.

"Well, when you get a tablet we'll talk about it." You said, smiling as you picked up where you left off in your book. Thinking you'd won the fight, there was no way he'd ever give up his love for turning pages for a digital reader.

You were very, very, wrong.

The next week you two hung out at his flat, cuddled up on the couch as usual. Your head laying in his lap as you tuned out whatever nonsense was on tv and scrolled mindlessly through news articles on your phone.

You only looked up when Harry moved his hand off your arm. Your eyes peered up at the smug bastard casually pulling out his new Kindle. The color draining from your face as he sat there with that infuriating cheeky grin.

"Anything we need to talk about, sweetheart?" He asked, eyes still on the screen of his tablet, that dimple popping out as he grinned.

"Oh, don't you sweetheart me!" You sat up abruptly beside him. The smile never leaving his face as he laid down his tablet on the coffee table.

"Why not, lovie? Something wrong?" He cooed, moving closer to you on the couch as you rolled your eyes at him.

"When did you get that?" You asked, gesturing to the piece of technology you swore he'd never EVER own.

"Two hours after y'left last week." His arms wrapped around you pulling you into his chest as you stared at him.

The cheeky jerk always tried to get what he wanted.

"H." You said, shaking your head at him.

"Jus' move in with me! Promise I'll pick up my socks and everythin'." He pouted his head laying on your shoulder until you pulled back slightly from him.

"Okay, I know that's a lie." You rolled your eyes, laying your head on his chest.

It wasn't that you didn't want to move in with him. You really did. You loved the guy. Even if he told the world's worst jokes and he hated your intense love of bad, corny, movies.

You considered him not just your boyfriend but one of your best friends. Not your absolute best friend because that bitch would murder Harry if he ever took her spot but he was close.

The only problem?

You'd managed to hide the fact you were diagnosed with depression for years. Any time any of your bouts of sadness seemed to hit he was conveniently out of town. By the time he came back they were close enough to being over that you could push through it. Pretend to be happy.

That's what you did best. Almost all the people in your life had no idea you struggled with a mental illness. That you had depression that fueled your anxiety which made your insomnia unbearable… which only made the depression worse.

It was a constant vicious cycle of depression, anxiety, and insomnia that you didn't want him to see. You liked being the person who made everyone laugh and have a great time.

You liked being the life of the party. Liked having fun and being adventurous but something in you would flip like a switch and suddenly you wouldn't be the same person anymore.

You'd spend days in bed, hardly moving, finding reasons to do your office job that you loved at home. You didn't see many people, blowing off your friends with excuses of being busy with work when really you were curled up in a ball in your bed staring at your bedroom wall, overthinking everything.

"Come on, what's t'big deal? I love ya and obviously y'not waitin' fo' marriage or anythin'." He said, laughing when you hit the jerk in the shoulder with the closest couch pillow.

"'M sorry but it was funny." He said with that annoying but oh so adorable sparkle in his eyes as he leaned his head back on your shoulder, sticking out his bottom lip to pout at you.

"Please move in? Pleeease?" He begged, pleading up to you with those bright green eyes you couldn't say no to.

"Fine but if you stop loving me that's your own fault." You sighed, settling on the fact that you didn't want your depression to hold you back.

If he loved you he would understand.

"Never gonna happen, love." He said leaning over to give you a kiss. Lips intertwining together causing the thoughts of worry to drift slowly from your mind.

>>>

It was only the first week of you two being moved in together when you felt that overwhelming sense of gray starting to edge its way into your mind. It was simple things at first, oversleeping, not feeling hungry, and not feeling up to doing much.

You easily chopped it up to the stress of moving and the adjustment period of getting used to living with someone else other than yourself. Telling yourself that there was no way you could be getting down when you had so much to be happy about.

Your nights after work were filled with nothing but cuddles on your couch. Pressed against Harry's chest as he read you the book you'd both settled on. Your fingers combing through his hair as you listened to every word pouring out of his mouth. Smiling softly as you nuzzled into his neck.

No, there was no way you could feel depressed when you had this to look forward to every night after a long day.

But you were wrong.

>>>

"Sunflower! 'M home!" Harry called out for you when he got back from the studio. A box of donuts in his hands as he shut the door behind him with his foot.

He could tell that you'd been feeling a bit off lately. You'd been sleeping more than you usually did. Complaining about your stomach being sick when he tried to get you to eat. Which never happened because you loved food.

When he rolled out of bed that morning to head to the studio you told him you were doing your office work from home. He thought it was odd since you usually loved going into your office. You'd been there so long that you considered almost everyone your close friend. Of course, you also didn't meet many people who weren't your friend which was one of the reasons Harry loved you in the first place.

You were always so sweet and kind. Going out of your way for people was something you didn't even bat an eye at. Your heart was made of pure gold and he loved seeing your smile light up a room anytime he took you out.

Lately though you'd been refusing to go with him to do things. Saying you had too much work to do. Something he tried to get you to stop doing to yourself. You had a bad habit of doing people's work for them when they gave you a half-assed reason why they couldn't do it.

He couldn't stand to see you work yourself to the point of stressing yourself out. Which is what he figured you were going through right now.

"Love?" He called for you again when you didn't respond. Throwing his keys and bag on the table haphazardly like he knew you hated but was slowly trying to break the habit of doing every day.

His eyebrows furrowed as he toed off his shoes. You usually came bolting down the hallway the second you heard his keys hit the kitchen table, telling him off for not putting them in the key bowl sitting by the front door. Something he didn't quite understand since you two usually ate in the living room and didn't even use the kitchen table unless people were over.

He walked through the quiet and dark house straight to the study. The door to the room jammed packed with his books creaked open revealing no one in there. Not even your laptop was in the room and nothing was out of place. It didn't even look like you'd been in there that day.

He closed the door behind him as he headed for the bedroom. He wasn't sure why you'd been in there since you said you had so much work to do and you were very adamant on no work being done in the bedroom. Saying it was only a place for sleep and sex.

When he finally got to your two's bedroom though he was surprised to find you curled up in a ball, buried under the thick comforter, asleep. Your hands gripping on the blankets as you huddled for warmth. Your easy breathing rising your chest gently up and down as you snoozed away peacefully.

A small smile formed on Harry's lips as he watched you for a second. This was exactly why he wanted you to move in, he loved seeing you already there when he got home. Even if you were asleep.

He placed the box of donuts on the bedside table before crawling into bed with you. The decompression of the mattress caused your eyes to flicker open as he laid behind you. His arm draped over your side as he pulled you closer to him.

"Mornin', love." He kissed your temple as you groaned in protest, not wanting to wake up since day time seemed to be the only time you could sleep anymore.

"Five more minutes." You mumbled, glaring at Harry when you heard him let out a small laugh.

"It's six in the evenin'. Y'won't sleep tonight if y'don't get up, baby." He said while his hand rubbed gently up and down your arm. The calluses on his fingertips scratched you slightly as you pulled away from him burying your face in the pillow.

"I'm sleepy." You complained, the pillow in your face muffling your voice.

"Y'never this sleepy." He said, pulling back from you slightly, brows furrowed in concern.

"I know. Just don't feel good." You shrugged as you rolled off the pillow to face him. You really should have told him then but the thought of him seeing you in a different light was terrifying. Logically, you knew he wouldn't judge you but the thought still loomed in your mind.

"Y'fevered?" He asked, touching your forehead with the back of his hand.

"No, nothing like that. Just tired." You sighed, wishing you weren't so much of a coward. Your teeth biting your bottom lip as your eyes darted away from his stare.

"Brought y'donuts. Those are always y'favorite." He said, hoping that would get you out of bed.

"Not hungry H. Wanna go back to sleep." You said, turning away from him again. You were so tired, your nights filled with nothing but restlessness and racing thoughts that somehow only subsided during the day.

"Y'stomach sick?" He asked, as he laid back down beside you. He wasn't sure what was going on with you but he could tell something was definitely wrong.

"Kind of." You said, Harry's mind racing with all the possibilities of what was going on with you.

Did anyone you know have the stomach flu? He didn't think so or at least you hadn't mentioned anything about it. Maybe it was the real flu he though but it wasn't the season for the flu and you'd be burning up if you had that. It could have been a common cold but you weren't sneezing or coughing.

His mind slowly started to piece things together for him. His eyes widening in realization before a small smile curled on his lips. He hugged you before pressing a kiss on your forehead.

You'd definitely needed all the sleep you could get if he was right.

"Alright, get some rest, darlin'. I'll come to get y'later." He smiled, turning to look at you with a weird glint in his eyes. "Love you."

"Love you too." You said, not sure what the hell had just happened but was glad he decided to leave you to your much-needed nap.

>>>

"I'll carry that." Harry said as he ripped the box from your hands. It had been the third time that day that he took boxes out of your hands that he deemed too heavy for you to carry out of your car from your storage building.

"H, why are you being so weird?" You sighed, rubbing your forehead, he'd been like this for weeks. His constant hovering was starting to become unbearably draining.

"'M not, don't want y'carryin' heavy stuff, that's all." He shrugged as he carried your box of photos to the attic as you plopped down on the couch.

It wasn't like he was going to let you unload your car yourself. He was already worked up about you clearing out your storage building yourself but it wasn't like you could keep things in there anymore. The rent had recently raised and really it was ridiculous for you to pay for a storage building when yours and Harry's place had an attic for storage.

"You should eat." Harry said sometime later in the evening when he had finished unloading your car for you.

"Not hungry." You replied, sitting up from the couch to stretch, your back cracking from how long you'd been sitting there not moving.

"Flower, please eat." He begged, his voice pleading with you as he sat down on the couch next to you.

"Harry, why is it a big deal?" You asked, turning to face him but you could tell he had suddenly gotten uncomfortable. You sighed, hands covering your face as you rubbed your eyes.

"You've been hovering over me for the past two weeks. What's going on with you?" You finally asked, hoping whatever it was could end quickly. You didn't have the energy to deal with everyday stuff let alone anything else.

"It's jus' y'know…" he mumbled, ears tinting pink as his eyes darted away from you. His hands fiddling with his rings as you raised an eyebrow at him.

"I don't know. Can you please tell me and start acting normal again?"

"'Ave you had your period this month?" He asked quickly, completely catching you off guard.

"What?" You had no idea what the hell that had to do with anything or why the heck he'd be worried about it.

"Y'know, y'period, 'ave y'had it?" He asked again, your forehead crinkling as you thought about it.

You hadn't had it yet but it was only one day late, which is completely normal for you when your stressed out from depression and not sleeping much. Your body liked to freak out on you when your emotional state wasn't the best.

"No?"

"And y'not eatin' and sick to y'stomach. Right?" He still looked anxious as he continued to question you. While you grew more and more confused by the second.

"Uhm, yes?"

At this point, you felt whatever his train of thought had been at the start of this conversation had completely gone off the rails. He wasn't making any sense whatsoever to you anymore. He might as well start speaking to you in a different language if he wanted to be this confusing.

"And y'tired and sleepin' all the time."

"Okay, what does that have to do with you acting funny?" You asked when you had finally had enough of his crazy questions.

"Y'pregnant." He said with a bright smile on his face that quickly faltered the second you busted out laughing at him. Your hand quickly covering your mouth when you realized he was now the confused one.

"Harry. I'm not pregnant." You said once you had finally calmed down enough to talk to him again.

"Y'are! That's why y'been so different lately." He said so passionately you almost felt bad for not being pregnant. The poor guy looked like you'd kicked his dog.

"H, I have depression." You said, finally telling him the truth about why you'd been acting so different.

His eyes flickered around your face then towards your stomach. The wheels in his mind turning as he realized all the signs he had misread.

"Why didn't y'tell me?" He asked quietly. The look on his face filling you with guilt.

"'Cause I don't like talking about it." You said, wanting to leave it there but you knew you owed him more of an explanation than that. Sighing as you reached out to hold his hand, your fingers absent-mindedly running across his rings as you tried to build the courage to talk about it so more.

"I get all weird and down. I don't like being like that so I don't bring it up a lot." You said finally breaking the silence he was giving you to talk freely about what was going on.

"We've been together fo' two years." He said, his fingers lacing through yours to stop your fidgeting.

"Yes, Harry, I'm very aware of how long we've been together." You rolled your eyes at him, a smile on your face until you saw the hurt look on his own.

"Why haven't I seen it before?" He asked, staring away from you and at the living room floor. Your heart sinking as you realized he was starting to blame himself for not seeing the signs.

"They always seemed to hit when you were out of town and before, when I wasn't living with you, it was easy to not show it. Like, I could be okay for a few hours when we hung out and I could go back home and it wasn't a big deal." You explained, pulling his attention back on you as you tried to casually brush off the fact you'd go through hard periods of time completely alone.

"'S a big deal. I wanna be there fo' yeh." He said tongue wetting his lips as you pouted at him. Your head resting on his shoulder, trying your best to be honest.

"That's why I'm telling you now. Sorry, it took me so long to say it. I didn't want you to look at me differently." You sighed, his hand tightening slightly, enough to make you raise your head up to look at him.

"I wouldn't ever look at y'differently, sunflower. I love you." He said, a smile on your face as you leaned forward and kissed him.

Even though you knew deep down that he'd always accept you and not judge you for your depression. Hearing him say the words made everything better.

"I love you too, H." You said when you pulled away from him. Your eyes were unable to stop watering as you looked at him.

"Don't cry, puppy." He said as his thumb brushed away your tears.

"Happy tears." You said through a laugh as you tried to wipe your open face dry of the water. A weight felt lifted off your shoulders knowing he'd always be there for you. Knowing you wouldn't have to carry the burden of depression alone anymore.

[my-simp-land]

Setting Boundaries

Lately, I've been having trouble setting boundaries in my own life, so I felt inspired to write this where there is a happy ending and not just stifling tension in the house. I hope this helps someone in need. You can do it bb. We have to take care of ourselves :)

Lucifer x reader/mc

Fluff with angst. Happy ending

1997 words

Since moving into the House of Lamination and getting to know the brothers, it was obvious that Lucifer was the main caregiver in the house. His approach was more business than affectionate, but that’s okay; that’s where I come in. In the beginning, I would try to help Lucifer directly by helping him with his paperwork or running errands for him. I quickly realized that keeping his brothers out of trouble or solving the problem before it got to him helped him far more than organizing his filing cabinets.

The new chain of authority quickly became accepted within the House of Lamination. Mammon had me on speed dial, so my D.D.D. was constantly ringing off the hook. The other brothers were nice about it though. It gave them a chance to open up about more problems without worrying about the stress and reaction it would cause.

The House of Lamination, and in turn the RAD campus, changed overnight. The student council’s relationship had drastically improved, and anyone could see it. Other demons began to come to me with their problems. I made a drop box where anyone could write their problems or thoughts and submit them. Lucifer bequeathed me a bulletin board where I could answer some of the simpler questions, but I had a column in the school newspaper where I wrote about other, more complex problems. My peers began to say I was an angel with a demon’s perspective. The blessing, or curse, of being a human, I guess

***

Everything was working out for Lucifer. With your help, he had so much more time to complete his tasks but also give himself the basic care he needed. The house was clean. His brothers didn’t run to him with their every problem. School was becoming the campus Diavolo imagined it to be. What could go wrong? Well, a lot could go wrong actually. Very easily. He just had to keep his watchful eye and stop it before it went too far.

***

A few months into my new councilor position, I began to feel the effects of my work. The world around me was on the up and up, but I was so tired. I was so exhausted, physically and mentally. It took hours to come up with some of these responses, and I was so focused on other’s needs that I began to neglect my own. Usually I went home to my room to work on my responses in private, but today, for some reason, I decided to stay in the student council room. Other members came in and out working on their own projects, exchanging pleasantries, but eventually, all became quiet. It was just me and my melted down iced coffee.

I watched the condensation run down the side of my cup as I thought of a good way to respond to this problem. How does one properly discuss their boundaries with the ones they love? I had plenty of answers, but I couldn’t think of one that I had actually used.

“MC? You’re still here. We were looking all over for you.” Lucifer.

“Oh. Uh- sorry Lucifer. I guess I just got so caught up in writing that I lost track of time I guess.” He walked over and peered over my shoulder at the paper before me. We sat there in silence for a moment before he spoke.

“So, how would you solve that problem?”

How would I solve speaking about boundaries? That's a great question, Lucifer. I’ve only been thinking about that for the last two hours.

“I’m not sure. I always try to put myself in the demon’s shoes, but it just isn’t working this time. I have plenty of hypotheticals but nothing I can solidly say would help.”

He hums in reaction and walks around the table to take his seat. Across from me, his red eyes peer into mine. We stare at each other for moments before I look back down at my paper. I can still feel his eyes locked onto me. I can’t imagine what’s going through his head. Is he trying to solve the problem? Is he thinking about replacing me? Am I becoming another problem to him?

“What if I told you I submitted that problem?”

What. Lucifer...submitting a problem...to me? I didn’t think he’d have problems with the brothers occupied. Sure, I would have to drag Mammon into his office when the problem was bigger than I was, and sometimes I would give him some insight onto the student’s thoughts. But Lucifer didn’t have any real problems. He was the Morningstar. He can do basically anything that he wants.

“Well, um- I...I guess I would ask for more context since you’re here.”

“I only wrote that. How would you answer that?”

So...so...ugh.

“I guess I would try to go to a private place with them. Make sure it’s the right time to bring it up. I wouldn’t want them to already be in a bad mood or be taken by something else. I would try to be comfortable with them. Not come off as aggressive or manipulative. Oh idk.”

I sigh and place my head between my hands. “Usually I set boundaries in the moment. It’s just a ‘I didn’t like that and would appreciate it if you didn’t do that again,’ but this leaves so many possibilities.”

I carry on with my thoughts in my head before Lucifer interrupts. “Carry on with what you were saying before.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to beat around the bush, but I wouldn’t want to be harsh. It’s a fine line to walk. Simple sentences. ‘I don’t appreciate this’ or ‘It makes me upset when you do this’ then I would follow it up with ‘I would be grateful if you were to refrain from that behavior’ or something similar. Just straight to the point but not pointing fingers at them. Don’t condemn them. Either they would agree or deny to change. If they agree, I would thank them for understanding and change the subject. If they deny, I would really set the boundary. I would tell them that I won’t be around someone who does that and would separate until they change or we meet a compromise or it could just be over. Sometimes it isn’t that easy. There’s more conversation where a compromise is made.”

“But what if they ask why?”

“I would explain. ‘I don’t like the way it makes me feel’ or ‘I don’t want to see you, someone else be hurt.’ Honesty is key. I wouldn’t see it as a defiance, but a way to understand you better.”

Lucifer reaches across the table and takes my hands. “It makes me upset when you exhaust yourself and neglect yourself because of your tasks. I would appreciate it if you let me take care of things again, so you can take care of yourself again.”

I shoot out of my seat, ripping my hands from his. “That is not an option, Lucifer. I’m helping and mending relationships; not only between humans and demons but demons and demons. I also can’t leave you to handle everything again. I set the boundary of me between you and the Devildom. I don’t appreciate it when you neglect your own problems for others!”

He sighs and pinches his brow. “Doll, I’ve done this for centuries now. You’ve given me a great vacation. The best one I’ve ever had, but it’s time for me to take back over now. I can’t let you run yourself into the ground and say I’m doing my job of watching over you.”

I press my hands into the table. “I will not let you handle everyone’s problems again. I refuse. I’m helping you by carrying some of the weight.” We sit in silence staring at each other before I speak again. “Is this because of your pride? I promise you that no one sees me as better than you. We’re not even in the same league. You do much greater things than I do. I’m just a post-it note therapist. I’m just a sounding board for my peers. You help run, not only a school, but an entire kingdom just because you’re friends with the crown prince. You deserve more, and you know i-”

“That’s enough!” He flew out of his seat and slammed his palms on the table. We were face to face; our breath running across the other’s face. “You will not carry on with your little crisis hotline if you’re going to neglect yourself.”

“I won’t give you an ounce of this weight back if you are going to neglect yourself.”

“I forbid it!”

“You might think you have some chokehold on me like you do your brothers, but you’re not stopping me from doing what I want. I’m solving problems; not causing them!”

“You are causing problems! Problems with me! You aren’t taking care of yourself!”

“Well you weren’t either when they were your problems!”

“I’m allowed to do that!”

“Like hell you are. I care too much to see you passed out in your office or turning to the bottle! As long as I can do something, I will!”

I could stare into his eyes to see the storm brewing within. He wants to say more, but his pride is holding him back. He wants it his way, but I won’t allow it. I can’t. What will he do? Will he run to Diavolo for some special permission to get me to stop? Will he tear down my board? Remove me from the school newspaper?

“I care about you too. More than I let on.” The energy in the room immediately shifts. No longer is it an argument; but a conversation. “Just as it hurt you to see me in pain, it hurts me. I cannot let you carry on this way”

My mind goes into autopilot. I take a step closer to him. My arms find their way around his torso. His circle me. I bring my head to his neck. We stand there for a few minutes, thinking of responses, enjoying the other’s care.

“So you know why I can’t give it all back to you?”

He gives me a squeeze. “Yes.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “Well, what a pickle we’re in.” He laughs.

As we stand there, clinging to each other, we think. We both know it can’t carry on like this. I breathe him in. My mind eases.

“You could find some of your other friends to help. Maybe give them some sample questions to solve or just someone to help you write.” I nod into his neck.

“I can still help with your brothers. Maybe we could learn from this and set some boundaries with them.” He nods. “That sounds wonderful.”

I pull myself back just enough to look up at his face. “I’ll give you my word to take care of myself. To step back when I need it, whether it’s me who decides or you, and vice versa with you.”

“I give you my word.” “And I give you mine.”

All tension is gone from the room. We smile at each other, relishing in the fact that neither of us will be hurting anymore. “May I kiss you?” “Yes.”

His lips fall down to mine. They’re soft against mine. They move with the same grace as he does, but they’re confident. He pulls me flush against his body. The kiss maybe lasted a minute or two, but I felt like it lasted a lifetime. We moved in complete agreement. Where he ended, I began. Where I ended, he began. It was like we became one heart.

I had to pull away to fill my lungs. “Well, it didn’t go like I said, but I hope I helped you with your problem.

Lucifer’s head fell back with laughter. Not a brief chuckle but real, full belly laughter. “I’d say it did. Thank you, doll.”

P.s. I fully believe Satan heard the argument and seeing MC coming out the student council room and he was fully like "how did they not die?"

[punksarahreese]

Comfort | Restart

Medtober day 3 + 4 (event by @page-doctor-bekker)

Med student!Sarah; everyone needs a real support system

Word count: 2335

CW: minor parental gaslighting/manipulation

***

Sarah had hoped no one would notice, though she quickly realized her body gave itself away all too easily. No amount of caffeine could hide the sluggishness in her movements, her limbs feeling heavier than lead. If it wasn’t that it was probably the way her voice held no cheerful tone like it usually did, instead her words fell flat and had April casting her concerned glances.

She kept to herself that day, all too exhausted to even try to be social. As long as she made it through her clinical hours she could go home and sleep, at least for a few hours. She hadn’t gotten more than six the past few days, instead pouring over her textbooks that had taken their rightful place strewn across the floor. The exam for her latest rotation was coming up and Sarah was feeling the anxiety far more than usual. That was at the fault of her mother, though the woman would say it was her daughter’s problem alone.

“Sarah, you need to stop worrying over such silly things,” she had told her over the phone, “The only thing you should focus on is school.”

“Mom…”

“Now, you know how important this is. You don’t have time for friends, it will only slow you down. My daughter will be a doctor, right? You wouldn’t let me down after all this money I’ve sent…”

It always ended like that, the passive aggressive cherry on top of narcissism. Her mother wasn’t maternal in the slightest, though she would still use her relationship to Sarah for her benefit. Sure she made certain Sarah had all the money she needed to be successful, but it all came with a price. She was expecting her daughter to make a name for herself as a doctor, which would of course leave room for bragging and manipulation on Elizabeth’s part. Sarah’s whole future rested on her mother’s money as much as it did her own success, which was an unfortunate feat she was beginning to despise.

“Reese,” if she hadn’t already been sitting down, the sudden voice on her right could have knocked her off her feet. She winced at her own jumpiness, turning to look at Connor sheepishly.

“Dr. Rhodes,” she pushed a scrap piece of medical tape into her textbook before letting it fall shut on the marked page, “Hi.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah… yes of course. Just getting some studying in.”

“Uh huh,” he looked at her for a moment and Sarah knew she probably wasn’t helping her case by looking like a whole mess, “Ava was looking for you.”

Usually a mention of her mentor would immediately grab her attention and send Sarah scurrying off to find out what she wanted. This day, however, she wanted to do the opposite. Ava could see through her in seconds and Sarah didn’t have the energy to be chastised for being spacey or distracted. She was burnt out and as much as she enjoyed being on the surgeon’s service she would much rather go home.

“Oh?” Was all she said, getting to her feet. She checked her watch, realizing it was just in time for her break to begin. Sarah gathered her textbook along with her glasses she had opted to wear that day instead of contacts. One more look at Connor preceded her reply, “I’ll go find her in a bit then.”

She didn’t look back at the fellow but she knew he was probably watching her in confusion, her attitude much different than usual. Usually she would be following after Ava like a lost puppy, so the fact that she didn’t even ask where she was was wildly out of character. Sarah didn’t have the time to worry too much about it though, a chirp from her phone letting her know her mother had more to say to her.

***

“Check on your med student.”

“What?” The look Connor got from his colleague was a guarded one, clearly she didn’t know where this was going. Connor and Sam had been pestering her for a while about her soft spot for Sarah Reese, so Ava had become accustomed to assume teasing would ensue at any mention of her.

“She looks like a mess today,” he said as he snatched a chip from the bag she had been munching on, “Bloodshot eyes and way more jumpy than usual, and that’s saying something.”

“What happened?”

Connor shrugged but couldn’t help the little smirk at how concerned Ava immediately became, “Don’t know. That’s why you should check on her.”

***

Ava found her in the locker room reserved for med students and interns, thanks to one of Sarah’s classmates who pointed their instructor in the right direction. She wasn’t sure what to expect when she nudged the door open but what she got was a bit of a shock.

Sarah was sitting in front of her locker, knees pulled up to her chest and her grey scrubs already a bit dusty from the floor. She was staring blankly at the textbook propped up on the bench, completely unfocused from the words. She mustn’t have heard Ava come in because she didn’t react, the only sound being a sniffle.

“Sarah?”

Just like Connor had pointed out, she jumped far more than she had ever before. Ava knew the medical student was on edge most days, but this seemed a bit concerning. That worry only grew when she came around the corner to face Sarah properly, not expecting quite the sight she found.

Sarah’s eyes were swollen and red, as though she had been crying for quite some time. That theory was pretty much proven by the tears tracking down her ruddy cheeks, leaving little stains where they landed on her top. Her hands shook as they worried the fabric over her knees, a rhythmic movement that must have been an unconscious thought. The med student looked like she hadn’t slept for days or like she had been to Hell and back; or maybe both.

“D-doctor Bekker,” she looked up in alarm at her mentor, very deer-in-the-headlights as if she was terrified of what she might say. Something told Ava it wasn’t a coincidence that she hadn’t seen Sarah at all that day, since the other woman looked like she had been caught red handed by just the person she didn’t want to see.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Ava was crouching beside her without a thought, “What happened to formalities making you nervous?”

“I-”

“Sarah, what’s wrong?”

The brunette’s rapid head shake sent rouge curls tumbling into her line of vision, “Nothing! I’m fine.”

“Oh yeah you definitely look fine,” she was a bit shocked with the casual way Ava dropped onto the ground beside her, seeming unlike the focused surgeon she knew. Ava should be working, not sitting on the dirty locker room floor with her medical student who had spent the whole day avoiding her like the plague. Still, she showed no signs of leaving without an explanation, which made Sarah sigh.

“My cardio rotation exam is coming up…”

“Yes and? We’ve been preparing for this for weeks, Reese. You know the content like the back of your hand.”

“I don’t… it’s not that easy,” she protested, “If I don’t do perfect on every exam from here on out I might not match into the program I want. I need to be perfect, Ava.”

“No, don’t do that. You aren’t allowed to psych yourself out like this. You will do just fine, I didn’t train you to hide from the scary stuff now did I?”

“No…”

The blonde nodded affirmatively, “Exactly. So you’ve been studying and not sleeping, I take it?”

Sarah scoffed, “What gave it away?”

“The bags under your eyes are bigger than Connor’s ego,” she teased, “Plus the fact that you haven’t put that textbook away all day and you’re shaking like you do when you’re living off of caffeine.”

“Not fair,” Sarah sighed, “Don’t psychoanalyze me; that’s doctor Charles’ job.”

“Oh I would never take his job,” Ava replied, “I have a hateful relationship with Sigmund Freud and refused to do psych after med school.”

That was what finally got a smile out of Sarah, though it was followed by an incredulous headshake. Of course Ava would say something silly or unrelated to make her feel a bit better, she always did. She shifted uncomfortably on the hard flooring, looking at her mentor cautiously.

“Why are you here, Ava?”

“Because I needed to check on you.”

“You have other things to do…”

“Sarah, you’ve been spacey and avoiding me all day. I can’t very well let my star med student blow off rounds just to sit on this Petri dish of a floor and cry.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, just tell me what’s really wrong so I can help.”

“I told you… exams.”

“Yeah but exam stress doesn’t often make you look like you’ve been crying for hours straight. What happened, Sarah?”

She knew she was backed into a corner, very aware of Ava’s concerned, stern eyes watching her every move. It’s not that she didn’t want to talk to her, Ava was probably the only person she wanted to talk to about this, but it wasn’t that simple.

“Exams are coming up; I’m moving to neuro in a couple weeks.”

“Yes? What… oh.” The surgeon seemed to have a sudden realization about what really was wrong. She sighed, slumping back against the locker beside Sarah’s before replying, “Reese, are you upset you won’t be on my service anymore?”

“Don’t say it like that,” she couldn’t help the whine in her tone, “I know I’m being a baby about it, just forget it.”

“No, Sarah,” the comforting hand that fell on her knee made her jump a bit, “It’s okay to be upset about it. I know you weren’t all too excited for CT in the beginning so it’s… rather endearing that you like it so much now.”

Sarah’s cheeks flamed at that and she tried to hide them behind her hands, not replying. She hated how upset the thought of rotation change made her, especially since she never even wanted to do cardio. Pathology was going to be her specialty in the end so that’s the residency she was applying for. She had no reason to feel so attached to cardiothoracics, not to mention the gut wrenching worry that Ava would forget about her.

“Hey,” Ava nudged her gently, “Sarah?”

“My mom is on my ass,” she admitted suddenly, “She’s very controlling and our whole relationship is based on money. She expects me to only think about school and stop ‘playing around’ in clinicals because I’m supposed to go to path in the end. That’s why I wanted to hate cardio, I shouldn’t have gotten attached.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” she shook her head, “It’s irrational the way she makes me so anxious but… I need to do perfect, Ava. I can’t afford any other outcome, you know?”

“That’s far too much pressure on you,” Ava looked at her seriously, “You’re allowed to have a life, Sarah.”

“Not in her eyes. I have to be a pathologist first and a human second or my mother won’t be happy.”

“And what about you? Are you going to be happy?”

“That doesn’t… it doesn’t matter.”

The blonde scoffed, “That’s rubbish and you know it. You can’t do your best if you aren’t sleeping and you sure as hell won’t do well in something you’re not passionate about.”

“But-.”

“No arguing,” she couldn’t help the small amusement at Sarah’s immediate compliance, “Please take care of yourself, Reese. Do this for you, not anyone else, or you’ll regret it.”

Ava didn’t wait for an answer, instead she got to her feet and dusted off her dark pants. She held out a hand for Sarah, looking at her with expectant eyes. The student let herself be tugged up off the floor, though she had trouble holding eye contact for very long.

“Sarah?”

She hummed in reply, busy wiping ruefully at the tears that had started to fall again during their talk. She saw the worry in her mentor’s face and it hurt a lot more than she wanted to admit. Ava Bekker cared for her of all people and here she was spending the day sulking and avoiding her.

“Come here.”

She was a bit taken aback when the blonde opened her arms, offering a hug for the first time. She wasn’t a physically affectionate person as far as Sarah had seen, not with her students especially. Still, it had been a very long time since she had received any sort of comfort like that and she had a hard time finding a response.

Eventually she did melt cautiously into Ava’s arms, surprised by how strong and secure they felt.

The surgeon didn’t say anything, just let Sarah lean into her until she relaxed into the embrace like expected. It was clear the other woman didn’t get a lot of physical comfort and Ava felt her stomach twinge a bit at how socially distant Sarah seemed. She deserved a support system, especially in such a competitive med program, and it broke her heart to realize she didn’t have much of one.

“Listen, you are a brilliant student, even if you have trouble with confidence. Enjoy neuro, don’t waste that time being upset and instead learn as much as you can. Don’t doubt yourself or downplay your abilities just because you think you should be in a lab instead. You would make an amazing surgeon, Sarah, whether it’s in CT or not.”

“Ava,” her reply was muffled slightly by her hair, “I don’t…”

“Just put yourself first, okay? And don’t be afraid to ask for guidance. Even if I’m not your mentor anymore once your rotation is up… I’m here, I promise.”

Sarah couldn’t think of a meaningful reply, overwhelmed by it all but still soothed by the lilac scent that was so Ava. All she could do was mumble a “thank you”, but in that moment it was more than enough.

[carboniteprincess]

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, Canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, character death, murder, you're literally a rebel sniper, it's enemies to lovers boba is not going to be nice to you yet, love at first fist fight, I cannot stress this enough, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, he's kind of arrogant? but he's young give him time

Pairing: Boba Fett x F! Reader | 2.0k words

You're arguably the best sniper in the entire rebel alliance, with hundreds of high ranking Imperial officials on your belt. When you're given the order to kill Boba Fett, you are under the impression that this would be like any other mission. Unfortunately, he seems to have great skill of getting out of situations that aren't in his favor. Now you're on Tatooine, where your comrade Orda has lured him into discussing business in a shady restaurant under the guise of being an Imperial Commander. His luck has to run out at some point, and you intend that to be today.

Crossposted on Ao3!

Being a rebel wasn't as glamorous as you thought. You weren't conducting high-level espionage or anything of the like. Instead, your penchant for sniping was homed in on, making you one of, if not the best in the entire squad. The only flaw you had, was arrogance. Never have you let a target walk away, never have you allowed yourself into a tight spot. 

You were always ahead of the enemy, so when your general gave you the order to kill Boba Fett. You assumed it would be an easy in and out job, perhaps he would've posed a threat to other members of your squad. But to you it would be simple, right? Unfortunately not. 

This is your third attempt at some kind of ambush, luring him into a perfect position. Mandalorian armor had few weak points, meaning you had to meticulously spend hours figuring out where would land a good, clean blow. His neck. If angled correctly, one tilt of his helmet and it would be over. Right through the jugular, no more bounty hunter. Another imperial dog to add to your list. 

If he would just turn his head, a little more to the right. Sweat beads on your forehead, eyes focused down the scope. Being a good assassin was all about your ability to linger, to wait. You're positioned on a balcony, a blind spot to the restaurant below. Your associate kept him talking under the guise of being an Imperial Commander, negotiating pay for the next rebel target. Boba Fett sits across from him, drink untouched. If you could see his face you'd swear he seemed bored. His legs wide open, leaning back nonchalantly. 

Fingers clenching on the trigger, you close your left eye. It wasn't like you enjoyed your job, when this war was over you'd swore to never lift a weapon again. The Empire made you, molding you like clay into a perfect killer. A painful truth, a driving force. Your parents. Both were medical professionals, caught smuggling medication to the galaxy's poorest. Promptly executed and then you, an orphan. A street urchin, nothing more. 

It wasn't long into your teens that you heard of the resistance, your heart burned with a want of revenge. So you got stronger, learned how to use a blaster, pilot and any skills that would make you useful to their cause. But you weren't a rebel, not really. You didn't care for politics, didn't even bother listening to the speeches about restoring the Republic. It didn't matter to you, but what did matter was taking out as many Imperials as you could before you die in battle or finally become numb to the anger. 

Self-preservation was no concern of yours, and that made you dangerous. A loose cannon, hot-tempered, and scarily a woman. You were used to being underestimated by your peers on gender, height, birth planet…. and you were the one who gets the high-profile missions. You were the one who has the highest accuracy, years of practice which left your trigger finger calloused, and every other emotion muted. 

Boba Fett had become a real thorn in your side. Threatening your record, career and possibly your sanity. His uncanny talent for escaping situations, even if all cards were against him, was exasperating. You would be lying if you didn't have some modicum of respect for him though, you were somewhat alike. Respect, no matter how great, does not destroy a death warrant. 

Someday soon his luck would run out, and it would be you at the other end of the blaster. That day was today. Lips twitching into a smirk, you watch his neck turn. Bingo. You steady your rifle, pulse pounding in your ears. At last, this mission would be over. You'd become a legend, the woman who killed Boba Fett. 

Bang. You take the shot, accurate as ever. A hum leaves your lips, watching him fall to the ground. Your calculations were correct, there was a weak point. Every armor has one, even Mandalorian. It was like a drug, the puzzle pieces clicking together with every fragility you discovered. 

The restaurant below descends into chaos, even the bartender is panicking. All guests rushing from their tables, abandoning their meals as your associate checks the man's pulse. You stare down your scope, watching the ordeal. He gives a thumbs-up, definitely dead. A buzz in your ear alerts you to a comlink.

"He's dead. But I think you'll want to come down here." Orda replies through static. Your brow creases, what the hell could've gone wrong. Muscles twitching with irritation, you make your way through the currently uninhabited building. You were ordered to avoid collateral damage by all means necessary, a false fire alarm did the job well. 

Your feet tap against the stairs as you make quick work of assessing your surroundings— if something is wrong, then it's always better safe than sorry. It seemed to be all clear, so you proceeded out the door and onto the street. This area of Mos Eisley was pretty habitable, aside from the abundance of criminal undertakings. Dust kicks as you march into the restaurant, pushing through various guests who were piling out at lightspeed. 

With a gruff, you finally make it to the rooftop, an exclusive VIP spot which proved difficult to doctor identity necessary to enter. You're about to start asking what the hell could've been so important that he dragged you down here, but your eyes meet Orda's now slumped body, face down with all color residing. A frustrated sigh leaves you, he was a good man. Even worse, he was a great rebel. His heart was in it, unlike yours. He shouldn't have been the casualty here. You reach down, pulling out his identichip and stashing it in your pocket. An action that you've taken with far too many of your comrades. 

Painfully you pull yourself from Orda's body, standing upright. Lingering would be a deathwish, whoever killed Orda was skilled. An impressive marksman, obviously one of Boba's accomplices who mistakenly thought he was the one that shot him. You could go over what-ifs later, right now you were going to finish the fucking job. 

The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in crimson constellations as the wind settled. Inspecting Boba's body was your primary concern, whatever Orda discovered, it cost him his life. You were determined to find out what exactly it was, from a glance it seemed like Boba Fett. With a grimace, you move his drooping head around. Concerningly heavier than expected, beskar is light and durable. 

You hook your fingertips under the helmet, pulling it off and coming face to face with…. not your target. Fuck. You'd be deceived, spectacularly. Knuckles white, feeling bile in your throat threatening to explode in a cocktail of frustration and admiration. The crudely made edges of the helmet abrasive against your palm, a reminder of your failure. 

Without a second thought, your balled fist comes into contact with the wall, encasing the helmet and sending tendrils of pain, a shock wave through your arm as you verbalize your confliction with a strangled scream. Orda died for nothing, you were a joke. Everything you had built, buried and locked away was floating to the surface. 

But you haven't felt this alive in years. Being outsmarted, so cunningly sent a morbid thrill up your spine. You could almost laugh, had you not heard footsteps approaching. Impulsively your hand fell to your blaster, making a mental note to thank your teacher for always carrying more than one. 

"Surely you didn't believe it was that easy to kill me." Before he can finish you turn, firing your blaster in his direction. Of course, his armor deflects it with ease. "I must admit, I'm impressed. Not everyone could distinguish beskar through weight alone." A snort leaves him at your feeble attempt to hold ground, looking over your pathetic secondary weapon that could barely injure an Ewok. 

"Go thing I'm not everyone then." You stand, keeping your right arm extended, blaster aimed at his inner thigh. It wouldn't kill him, however it would allow ample time for escape. "You killed my friend." He's circling you now. "Who's your Intel? How did you know I'd be here?" 

"You are hardly in the position to be making demands, little rebel." Another chuckle, you'd heard of him toying with his advisories before, but this was different. A teacher disciplining a student. 

"You're going to kill me anyway, what's the harm." You huff, shrugging. He stops pacing, chewing over your words. 

"Killing you would be a waste." That bastard. "Of my time and resources." He adds matter-of-factly. 

"Orda wasn't?" You spit, voice cracking in frustration. Figuring out what made others tick was your specialty, but the lack of motivation and reason within Boba's actions is what baffled you. 

"That was a favor." He sounds like you should be grateful, almost insulted that you hadn't figured it out yet even with him practically dangling the answer in front of you. Perhaps you weren't as clever as he thought. 

"A—favor? How would killing my comrade benefit me!" You reply astounded, cheeks burning red, hand shaking on your blaster. 

You think for a second, taking your eyes off him. Why did it take until after the kill for Orda to realize what was wrong with the body… He isn't… wouldn't…could've of… you've been double-crossed. "He wouldn't— I've spent months with him—" 

"And every little thing you did, he told me." His admission is calm, you look over Orda's body, no longer do you feel remorse. Just shame. You couldn't even see betrayal under your nose. 

You walk closer to him, the barrel of your blaster getting dangerously close. Nothing could stop you from finishing your mission right now, but he's letting you. Knowledge is far more appealing than rewards in the resistance. 

With your grip around the handle tight, you slam it down across his helmet, your knee reaching his groin. "You're very easy to fool." A smirk replaces the look of misery on your face, it was a dangerous game to pretend to let your guard down. Your risk paid off, managing to get a shot at his thigh. 

Swiftly, you press all your weight on him, knocking him back just enough to make a run for the edge of the balcony. He groans in pain, you're so close to the edge, escape almost in your grasp— when a grappling hook wraps around your ankle. 

You struggle against the cold floor, doing anything you can to wriggle free from his grasp.

It's fruitless, as soon as he's in reach you're kicking him, hurtling all kinds of abuse. Your attempts to wrestle him are almost comical and in a frenzy, you grip the only thing that seems viable. His Helmet. You manage to free it, your fingers hooking under and pulling it off his head, sending it on the floor beside you. For a moment you're the one stunned, not him. 

Dark curls frame his face, a beautiful border to tanned skin. His nose is prominent but compliments his features. Scars pepper his face, but he's young. Younger than you thought. You watch as his forehead crinkles in anger, hands pinning yours beside your head. 

Wasting no time, you bring your head to crack his, sending him back with a kick to the stomach. Your nose pours from impact, dripping onto the floor as you clamber to your feet. 

"This isn't over." You hear his voice, unmodified. You rush to the edge, peering over and assessing if you can land in one of the speeders below. He stands, trying to rush over to stop you. "Don't!" 

With a wink, you throw yourself over the side. In seconds you're hurtling onto the street, watching a bare-faced Boba Fett grow smaller with each passing second. His eyes are widened in either admiration or shock for your bravery. 

He eventually dares to look over and finds that you're gone. Whoever you were, he finally had a worthy opponent. He would find you again. His little rebel.